Brotherhood Protectors_Montana Freedom

by Natasza Waters

  Mack raised the pistol and swung it back and forth. “You think you’re Superman now?” he jeered. “Able to bounce bullets off that chest of yours?”

  Cory glared at Mack, his chin lowered, feet slightly apart. “Nope. Why don’t you give your buddy that weapon first and then you can come take a piece of me.”

  Oh, shit, don’t egg him on, Sam thought. The men started to move in a slow circle like wolves ready to pounce on each other. Somebody was going to get hurt.

  Mack stopped and steadied the weapon, aiming it at or near Cory. She prayed he was too drunk to hit his mark, if he meant to hit him at all. Mack had always been about bullshit and bluster.

  The weapon fired and the ground spit dirt and mud an inch in front of Cory’s boot. He didn’t move. Just kept watching his target.

  “Stop, Mack. What’re you doing?” If there was a God, the sheriff heard the shot through the band playing inside the bar, but she doubted it.

  Another shot rang out. This time the dirt jumped in the air just behind Cory’s right leg. A slight quirk of Cory’s eye told her that one had come too close.

  The next few seconds went by in a blur.

  For a big man, Cory had speed, and Mack was too drunk to act fast enough. She blinked, and Cory had Mack in a stranglehold from behind. The handgun dropped to the ground.

  Mack’s buddies attacked.

  “Stop this,” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  “Back, Sam,” Cory ordered harshly.

  Her Delta Force protector delivered his fist with a powerful strike into one of his attacker’s faces, and the guy staggered backwards. The second man went down with a powerful kick to his stomach. Cory disengaged with Mack and waited for his third friend to make a move, but instead the guy stepped back giving up the fight. Mack attacked, driving a hard kick to his kidneys. Cory went down on all fours, not because Mack had taken him out, but to maneuver himself into another position.

  Cory thrust himself to his feet. Through the rain and blinding street lights, he rose like a legendary hero. With a powerful thrust, where knuckle meets bone, he struck Mack in the face. Sheriff Barron appeared and bolted across the road. Mack went down, his legs giving out with the force of the blow, but his hand fell on the handgun and he grasped it, then staggered to his feet.

  “Put the weapon down,” Sheriff Barron warned, drawing his own from a belt inside his coat.

  “Aw, come on, Joe. Just doing my civic duty by taking out the trash.”

  “Lower the weapon, Mack. Don’t think your momma wants to go to your funeral yet.”

  Mack wasn’t too drunk to hear the seriousness in Joe’s voice. He tossed the weapon, but before Cory could act, Mack hauled off and punched him in the face.

  Cory spun around, twisting Mack’s arm and drove him head first into the ground.

  “I’ve got him.” Joe rushed up and snapped the cuffs on Mack’s wrists. “You’re going to cool off in jail tonight.” A few of the sheriff’s friends and his deputy had already corralled Mack’s buddies and escorted them down the road. The court house just a block away.

  Sam ran to Cory’s side. Although he stood tall, she worried he’d been hurt and the nurse lingering inside her hadn’t abandoned her duty. He thrust his arm around her shoulders and tucked her to his chest, turning slightly as if shielding her from a threat. Raw energy pulsed from Cory who’d been forced to become a warrior again. He’d taken a good shot in the eye from Mack, who wasn’t a tiny guy. Blood dripped from a split in this lip.

  Sheriff Barron picked Mack off the ground. “Sam, Cory, you two okay?”

  Cory nodded.

  They stood in the middle of the street with the rain gushing down from the heavens while the sheriff hauled Mack away.

  “You’re not okay,” she said, checking the inflammation building around Cory’s eye. He jerked back when she touched his face. “Let’s get you inside and find something for the swelling.

  With his first step, she realized he’d been hit by a bullet and dropped to her knees, remembering Cory wince earlier.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he barked, his adrenaline still running high.

  Blood seeped through his pant leg. She couldn’t see the wound very well, but the tear in his jeans assured her he’d been injured. “Come on, you’re staying at Mrs. G’s B&B aren’t you? Let’s get you there so I can look at that.”

  When they stood at the side entrance to the rental unit, Cory dug his hand into his pocket to retrieve the key. Inside the one room studio, she found the lights and switched them on, then guided Cory to the bed.

  “Take your pants off and lay down,” she instructed.

  A grin curled his lip. “Bet you were every guy’s favorite nurse.”

  Ignoring his teasing, she dropped her purse on the table. A few steps brought her to the kitchenette and apartment size fridge and freezer. She set a tray of ice cubes on the counter and pulled a tea towel from the drawer. With a twist of the plastic tray, she dumped the cubes in the towel, twirled the end and used a cast iron fry pan to smash the ice till it turned to pulp.

  Returning, she placed the makeshift bag against his eye. “Hold this here.”

  With a cursory look at his leg, she saw it was a glancing blow. The wound didn’t need stitches, but it did need disinfecting and pressure. Heading to the bathroom, she grabbed a fresh towel from a basket sitting on the counter and another tea towel from the kitchen. Walking past the sofa, she tucked a throw pillow under her arm. Cory watched her movements as she collected what she needed.

  Sam raised his leg and supported it with the pillow, then took a closer look. She’d need supplies. She knotted the tea towel around his leg. “I’ll be back.”

  “Where you going?” he asked, pulling the ice bag from his eye.

  She gently prodded his hand and rested it back over his eye. Mack had got in a lucky shot, and was even luckier that Cory hadn’t killed him. She knew Delta Force guys could do that with one strategic punch and it would have been lights out forever for Mack.

  “Be right back.”

  She plucked her purse from the table and headed out the door.

  Rushing through the pharmacy, Sam collected what she needed, as well as a bottle of Advil, and ran back to the B&B only a block away.

  Cory lay where she’d left him with his head on the pillow. Sam dumped the bag out on the bed and for the next few seconds, the only sound in the room was the tearing of protective paper from the gauze and bandages she’d purchased. She cleansed the wound, a slice of flesh across his calf three inches long. She butterflied the injury and placed the gauze on top, then wrapped it.

  Finished in under two minutes.

  When she looked up to see how her patient was doing, Cory watched her, leaning on his propped elbows.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re a nurse.”

  Cory’s sexy eyes swallowed her whole. Quickly, she gathered up all the paper and bits, and scrunched them into a ball. “Not anymore.”

  She stood, intending to throw the wrappers and bloody swabs into the trash.

  “You still see the blood, don’t you?” His voice a soothing balm to her nerves, even though the point of his question stopped Sam in her tracks.

  She kept her back to him, because looking into his eyes was like looking in a mirror that reflected images of every man, woman, and child she’d seen come through the hospital. Some of them would stare at her with anger brewing in their gaze. Defiant. Others were hopeful, while others had lost all hope.

  Pain. Agony. Loss. She’d seen every one of life’s hardest moments in their eyes.

  When she didn’t answer him, he said. “I see it, too.”

  Slowly, she turned. “Okay, Doctor Phil, I see it. So what?”

  Cory gazed at her. Prompting for more, but she didn’t have anything to add.

  “You know why it’s still there?”

  She swallowed. He patted the bed, and she stepped closer but didn’t sit. He reached for her hand and drew he
r to his side.

  Her heart fluttered with fear, or maybe because she couldn’t ignore the virile man lying on the bed with no pants. What God had given him lay irrefutable and ample under his low-slung underwear. Ropes of muscle led beneath the waistband, and his shirt had risen to reveal a taut, tight stomach. Smooth skin and muscle a woman yearns to touch.

  After a couple deep breaths, Sam finally lowered her butt to settle on the edge of the bed.

  “It’s because you know, and I know, it will never end. We tell ourselves there’s a good reason why we’re fighting or, in your case, healing. Folks at home see us as selfless. Uncle Sam says we’re doing it to keep our freedom, but regardless of the reasons, it will never end.” His gaze bore into her like a drill. “We did our part. Others will do theirs. There’s no guilt in walking away.”

  She bit down hard, her jaw clenched. Fiddling with the scraps of paper balled in her hand.

  “I’ll get you some water so you can take a painkiller.” Sam jumped up and headed to the kitchen cabinets, pulled a glass and filled it with water. Dumping a couple Advil into her hand, she returned to his side. “Stay off the leg for at least a day. I’ll check the wound when you come to work Tuesday.”

  “Tuesday? Somebody cancel Monday?”

  “I’m cancelling your Monday.” She rolled the pills into his hand and offered the water. He took them without argument. “Get some rest.”

  Before she could retreat, his hand swept up her leg and palmed her below the ass. “Flynn was a lucky guy.”

  She smiled down at Cory. “Not that lucky. He died.”

  “He did, but you didn’t.”

  She jerked her gaze away and withdrew. “See you on Tuesday.” She reached the door when she heard the bed groan with relief from Cory’s weight. “What’re you doing? I didn’t say you could get up.”

  He crossed the small space and snagged her behind the neck. “A tactical maneuver.”

  “Wha—”

  His lips powered down on hers, and her body thawed into a pool of something warm and languid. Before the thought materialized that she shouldn’t, she kissed him back. His arms drew her closer, removing all the air between them.

  She didn’t need air. She needed a fire extinguisher. Firm and sensual, his lips, his scent, trapped her in his aura, assaulting the woman who’d turned to stone inside until she forfeit the battle a second ago.

  Slowly, he drew away. “You’re a good nurse. Confident hands, but what I notice most is how beautiful you are. Good night, Samantha.”

  Chapter Five

  It wasn’t until she scrambled back into her truck that Sam blinked away the fog in her mind. Her fingertips brushed her lips and they pulsed with memory. Not of Flynn, or a random doctor, or a passing soldier she’d used to release some pent-up steam. A hundred percent of Cory’s essence flickered sexual air into her starved desire, coming to life inside her like a jet engine flames to life after a burnout.

  She fumbled inside her purse till the chill of metal touched her fingers, then rammed the key into the ignition.

  Stone cold sober, she drove home and ran up the stairs to the ranch house. Opened the front door, stepped inside and was greeted with stone cold silence. She stood with her back against the door, listening. Sometimes, she could still hear the echoes of a hospital or the whip whip of the helo wings while she sterilized, anesthetized, stabilized and operated—all in her mind. She’d been part of a team then.

  Her gaze wove around the great room, the lamp with a cowhide shade glowing next to the brown leather couch, worn thin in places by family and friends over many years. The chair her mother sat in next to the window where she loved to read. Even Tee’s favorite spot at the kitchen table where she got the best view of the Crazy Mountains, sat empty. This is what it would be like after Tania married Tucker. The ranch and silence.

  Sam shook off the maudlin thoughts and wandered to the kitchen to put on water for tea. After plugging in the kettle, she headed to her room to change into a slip of a top and comfortable underwear. Pulling off her teal blue thong, it drooped on one finger, and she held it up and laughed. “Sorry, Cory, you didn’t get to see these tonight.”

  She made tea and then curled up on the couch to watch some mindless TV. Wasn’t long before her eyes drooped with sleep. Instead of going upstairs to her comfortable bed, she pulled the soft quilt her mother made from the back of the couch and slipped it over her legs. Clicking off the TV, she fell asleep to the song of a coyote pack in the distance singing at the full moon.

  The phone ringing next to her head woke Sam, and she opened her eyes to a beautiful morning streaming through the window.

  “Bluebell Ranch,” she answered, shaking off the grogginess.

  “Bob Tollie. Morning, Sam. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No. No.” Why did everyone always lie about that? “What can I do for you?”

  “Wanted to touch base. Make sure we’d have your horses on site Monday morning. The temporary stalls are being erected as I speak.”

  She could hear banging and sawing going on in the background. “Thought it was Tuesday, but Monday is fine. We’ll transport ten of the horses early Monday morning.”

  “Great, but I was hoping we could get twenty, if that’s possible? The director wants to start shooting a particular scene, and it calls for more horses.”

  She put ten additional horses on a mental list which meant ten more to groom on Sunday. “Ten more we can do.”

  ****

  Sunday around noon, Cory drove down the gravel road into the Bluebell Ranch. His leg ached a little and the flesh around his eye had turned a nice color of blue and green. Parking the truck beside Carl’s dually in front of the barn, he got out and looked around. Samantha must have needed help. He walked into the barn, calling out Carl’s name.

  “Jesus, Cory, glad you’re here.”

  Cory walked the breezeway. None of the horse’s stuck their heads over the gates with interest. Maybe they’d transported them early to the movie site. “Thought I’d drop by and see if Samantha needed some help for—”

  His words stuck in his throat when he reached a stall halfway down the barn. The door swung open, and Carl kneeled on the hay beside one of their geldings.

  “What’s going on?”

  Carl stood and swept the cowboy hat from his head. “Damned if I know, but most of them are like this.”

  The chestnut gelding lay in the stall, his stomach bloated. Diarrhea wet the straw and the horse groaned as if in pain. Cory crossed to the stall across the barn and found the quarter horse on its side as well. “What the fuck?”

  “Has to be something in the feed. Only five of them aren’t affected,” Carl said. “I’ve called the vet. He’ll be here in a half hour. I just came by to check on Miss. Samantha. See if she could use a hand.”

  “Where is she?” Cory’s unease rose a notch.

  “Haven’t seen her. I came into the barn first.”

  “You think it’s the feed?” They both walked to the pile of bags sitting on a slat against the wall.

  “I called Bayley’s. They said they hadn’t had any other reports.”

  “If it’s not the feed, then what about the water?”

  Carl nodded. “Maybe.”

  “Where’s the source? Do you have a well?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Cory followed him outside.

  “Up there,” Carl pointed. “There’s a stream that runs all year. It’s piped down here, into holding reservoirs underground.” He pulled one of two heavy tank lids open. A ladder attached to the wall of the circular tank led into the inky darkness.

  Cory gripped the edge and stepped onto a wrung, working his way down until he reached the water. He dipped his palm and sniffed then tasted it. “It’s bitter,” he yelled up. “Somethings tainted the water source. I need a container.”

  “Be right back,” Carl yelled down.

  He didn’t have a flashlight, squinting to look around the tank in th
e dim light. Nothing obvious jumped out at him, but something had contaminated the water.

  “Catch,” Carl yelled down, and dropped a small plastic cylinder.

  Cory scooped some water and flipped the stopper closed, stuffed it in his chest pocket and climbed the ladder. “Can you call some of the guys in? They need to check the water source up on the mountain. Maybe it’s a dead carcass.”

  “Already done. Jed will be here in five minutes and Tex is right behind him.”

  Cory looked around. “Ya think she’s already up there?”

  “Her horse is still in the barn.

  Then the feeling of unease jumped to a five gauge alarm. “Does this source feed the water in the house?”

  Carl’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

  Cory was running before the word left Carl’s mouth. He vaulted the steps two at time and almost tore off the screen door.

  “Sam?” he yelled. He surveyed the kitchen and living room and then ran up the stairs. “Sam!”

  He yanked open the bathroom door and found her.

  “Get out!” She groaned, and then retched into the toilet.

  “Shit. Sam.”

  “I’ve got the flu.” She retched hard again. Her fingers shook as she gripped the rim.

  Cory threw open the window and knelt behind her. She’d had the same response as the horses.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pulled her hair from her face. Carl appeared at the door. “Call an ambulance,” he ordered. “She’s burning up.”

  “No.” She retched so hard her back arched and her body spasmed.

  He wrapped his arm around her hips to support her. When she finished, Sam lay back against his chest. Her skin slippery with sweat and she panted.

  “I’m going to get you bottled water to drink. You’re going to throw it up, but you’re dehydrated.”

  She groaned and wrapped her arms around her middle. He shifted his hand under hers and splayed his finger across her stomach.