Quickly moving off the bed, Ben told Reese to stay put and went to check on Drew. While Ben applied pressure to the wounds, the other guy called for the ambulance. Lucky for Drew, the local sheriff had already called one to the location, just in case it was needed, and the medics came rushing into the room just a few moments later. Ben let them take over with Drew and came back to Reese, lifting her into his arms.
Then he carried her across the grisly looking room, through the open doorway, and out into the comforting darkness of the night.
17
DESPERATE TO REACH REESE AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, BEN HAD managed to get transport for both him and Leighton down to Islamorada in the county helicopter, where they’d met up with one of the local deputies. Even with the time it’d taken to get the flight coordinated, they’d shaved considerable minutes off what would have been a gut-wrenching drive down to the Keys.
Fear and fury weren’t strong enough words to describe the emotions that had burned their way through Ben’s insides as he’d spoken to Harry Jackson, the local sheriff, while coordinating Reese’s rescue. And relief didn’t come anywhere close to how he felt now that she was sitting beside him in this cold, sterile hospital corridor in the city of Key Largo, waiting for news about how Leighton was doing. Lizzie had managed to shoot him twice in the chest, before Leighton had drilled the last bullet straight through her heart. Lucky for the lawyer, the bullets in the gun that Lizzie had been wearing on her ankle weren’t hollow-point like the one she’d used on her psycho brother. But they’d still done some damage, deflating one lung and nicking an artery. He’d been in surgery for several hours now, but the last update they’d had was that he was doing well and would probably be transferred to the ICU within the hour.
Given any unforeseen complications, the guy was going to make it. Ben knew he should be glad, seeing as how Leighton had risked his life to keep Reese from being shot. But at the moment, despite his relief that Reese was safe and unharmed—except for a bump on the back of her head where one of the Jenningses had struck her—he was still too jacked up on adrenaline to feel anything but this tight, edgy restlessness.
He’d come so fucking close to losing her. So. Fucking. Close.
As they’d followed behind Drew’s ambulance in the deputy’s patrol car, Reese had filled him in on everything that Lizzie and Rick Jennings had said to her. Then he’d told her that they’d found a truck in the resort parking lot matching the description of the one that had caused the accident on Friday, which they believed was the vehicle she’d been driven down in. When she’d asked him why they’d waited so long outside the window before busting in, he’d said, “We couldn’t see from our position whether or not she was holding a gun on you until she’d fired at her brother. No fucking way was I going to risk spooking her and getting you shot.”
A wry grin had tilted her lips. “I think I was probably more worried about her shooting you. I kept trying to keep them distracted, so they wouldn’t notice you were outside the window.”
Ben had pulled her against his side, burying his face in her hair. “When she fired that first bullet, it was my chance to get in and take her down before she could get another round off.” His voice had been gritty with emotion. “But I was so fucking scared I wouldn’t be fast enough.”
They’d reached the hospital then, and hadn’t been able to finish the conversation. Reese had needed to give her statement to Sheriff Jackson, while Leighton had been taken straight into surgery. By the time Ben and Reese had wrapped things up with the local authorities, Alex, Brit, and a haggard-looking Mike had surprised them at the hospital. They’d driven down together in Brit’s car, after she’d run into Alex at the hospital in Moss Beach. Brit had been checking on one of her patients, and Alex had been waiting outside the ER while they patched Mike back up. Ben knew from having spoken to Alex earlier on the phone that Mike had regained consciousness in the ambulance. The doctors had checked him out in the ER, where he’d received ten stitches for the gash on his head and some serious pain meds before being discharged.
After Ben had given Alex and Brit a hard time for not taking Mike straight home, where he could get some fucking rest, his younger brother had admitted that he’d threatened to take a taxi down to Key Largo if they didn’t drive him. He felt like shit for what had happened and wanted to apologize in person. Amazingly, Mike could remember everything that had taken place before he’d been knocked out. He’d been watching a Mariners game in the living room when he’d heard a woman screaming for help outside the front of the house. Worried there’d been some kind of accident like a shark attack down at the beach, he’d gone outside to find out what was going on, and Rick had come up behind him, bashing him on the head. Then they must have dragged his body back inside the house, and gone after Reese.
To Ben’s surprise, Reese had fussed over Mike like a little mother hen, assuring him that he’d only done what any decent person would do, while they all agreed, trying to make the guy feel better.
Ben knew his brothers and Brit meant well, and he put up with them for as long as he could. But after an hour of listening to the women coddle Mike, while Alex had gone into another one of his brooding moods, slanting the occasional dark glance at Brit whenever she wasn’t looking, Ben had finally told them to go back home. Surprisingly, none of them had given him a hard time about it. They’d just wanted to see for themselves that everyone was okay, but seemed to understand that he needed some time with Reese. Brit told them both to call her if they needed to talk, and Ben had finally promised her that they’d stop by to see her when they got home.
As the group had started to take off, Ben had grabbed Alex’s arm, holding him back. “What was that about?” he’d asked, keeping his voice low.
Alex’s dark brows had drawn together. “What was what about?”
“Those looks you kept giving Brit.” As far as Ben knew, his brother and Brit had never had much interaction. Certainly not enough to warrant Alex having a problem with her.
Alex had rolled his shoulder, his mouth flat with tension. “She just winds me up the wrong way.”
Ben had given a skeptical snort. “You barely know her.”
Alex’s jaw had gone rigid. “I don’t want to know her, either.”
In that moment, it had all started to make sense, and Ben had had to fight back a shit-eating grin. After all this time, a woman had finally knocked Alex’s blinders off and made him notice her. He never would have fucking guessed that it’d be Brit, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t like the idea. He just hoped to God his brother didn’t act like a complete and total jackass.
“Are we done here?” Alex had snarled, knowing damn well what he was thinking.
Ben had held up his hands. “Go on. Get out of here.”
That’d been nearly ten minutes ago, and despite having the first quiet moment together since he’d carried her out of that blood-covered cabana, he was still sitting there beside Reese in the hospital’s god-awful plastic chairs, trying to figure out what the fuck he should say. Finally, he just went with what was in his gut. “You worried about Leighton?”
Her shoulder lifted in a tired shrug. “It’d be wrong not to be worried about him. What he did . . .” She blew out a shaky breath. “I never expected him to do something like that.”
Well, hell. What was he meant to say to that?
You could try telling her what you should have told her before.
Yeah, as if it was so fucking easy. It’d been one thing when he’d been terrified he might never see her again. Another thing entirely to look deep into her beautiful eyes and rip his fucking heart out for her.
She did it for you. Had the guts to tell you how she feels. That she’s in love with you.
He flinched as the words echoed through his head, making it pound. He was locking up inside, panic closing him down. He could feel it happening, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do to stop it. All he could keep thinking about was how close she’d come to dying. H
ow pathetically useless he’d felt waiting outside that damn window, hating himself for screwing up and letting those psychopaths get their hands on her.
Jesus, he had to get out of there. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t fucking breathe!
“Where are you going?” Reese asked, when he surged to his feet.
Ben didn’t even turn around as he replied. “Outside. I need some air.”
He followed the signs for the hospital lobby, so pissed with himself he could have chewed nails. He stopped in the middle of an empty corridor somewhere along the way, his chest heaving, head aching so badly it felt like his skull was breaking apart. For some goddamn reason, his eyes were wet, leaking over his face, the salty burn of tears tickling the corners of his mouth. This was unbelievable. He was falling the fuck apart! He panted, locking his jaw as he scrubbed his face with his hands, but couldn’t hold back the furious bellow that suddenly ripped itself up from the painfully tight depths of his chest, echoing through the sterile hallway.
A second later, someone walked by the far end of the corridor and stopped to look at him, before scurrying off. Shit. They were probably getting security. Time to drag his ass out of there. All this night needed was him getting loaded off to jail. Everyone at the station would have a fucking field day with that one. Not to mention how stellar it would look when it came time for reelection.
Forcing himself to move on, Ben worked his way through the mazelike hallways, until he finally reached the lobby and headed for the doors. Through the front wall of glass, he was surprised to see that the sky had turned a pearly shade of gray. He’d lost all track of time.
When he walked out into the sultry morning air, he caught sight of his brothers and Brit waiting in line for coffee at an espresso stand. He quickly turned and started heading for a little rest area set up at the far end of the building, making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for company. Hopefully they’d get their drinks and head on home, leaving him to sort his shit out on his own.
Making his way into the rest area, which consisted of a few benches and trees for shade, Ben propped his shoulders against the trunk of a thick palm, watching the way the hazy streams of sunlight shimmered across a small lake that stretched from the hospital into a natural mangrove. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and exhaled a ragged breath, enjoying the brief gust of wind that brought relief from the heat. When a slight sound brought his eyes open, he bit out a sharp curse, stunned to see the son of a bitch working for Houghton standing not five feet in front of him. The bastard was wearing a white dress shirt and dark slacks, looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ. What the hell?
Reading the violence in his expression, the man held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to cause any trouble, Hudson. I’m a federal officer and I don’t have a lot of time, so please just stay quiet and listen.”
“A fucking Fed?” Ben gave a low, gritty laugh, his battered knuckles burning as he squeezed his right hand into a hard, brutal fist. “Bullshit. You work for Houghton!”
“That’s my cover,” the guy grunted, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a small leather case. He flipped it open, revealing a federal badge, complete with photo and identification number. According to the badge, his name was Damian Jacobs. “You can take the ID number and run it if you want. It’ll check out.”
Ben clenched his jaw. He was ready for some fucking answers and he wanted them now. “Why the hell has a Fed been watching me?”
Replacing the badge in his pocket, Jacobs said, “I was working undercover with Houghton’s operation, until my cover was blown. I’ve got the mole he has working for him to thank for that. I thought it might be you.”
“You thought I was the mole?” Ben shook his head, fighting not to laugh. “Before this weekend, I haven’t had anything to do with that case in over a year. A fucking year!”
The Fed’s dark gaze narrowed. “And that couldn’t have been the perfect front? The disillusioned detective who wants nothing to do with a case that nearly got him killed?”
Ben scrubbed his hands down his face again, thinking it was a miracle everything had turned out as well as it had. As if it wasn’t enough that the fucked-up, psychotic Jennings duo had been gunning for Reese, there’d been an undercover Fed out there trying to pin a perversion-of-justice rap on him.
Lowering his arms to his sides, he gave the jackass a cocky smirk. “I hate to break it to you, Jacobs. But you’ve been wasting your time. I’m not the mole.”
“I know. I’d finally figured that out.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
Jacobs rubbed a rough hand over his mouth, then shoved both hands in his front pockets. “I heard about what happened to your woman,” he ground out, the low words sounding as if they were being pulled up out of him against his will. “I actually saw the brother a few times while I was running surveillance.”
Ben took a step closer, his muscles going hard and tight as he held Jacobs’ gaze. “You saw him spying on Reese?”
Jacobs was watching him carefully. “Only a few times. Started keeping a closer eye out for him, but he was good at blending in.”
“Unlike you,” he sneered.
“Fuck you,” the Fed growled. “I only let you see me those times because I was trying to push you into making a mistake.”
“And what the fuck did you think the bastard watching Reese was doing?” His voice got rougher, like he’d swallowed something gritty. “You could have saved her from going through this shit, you stupid fuck!”
A muscle started to pulse in Jacobs’ jaw, but he kept his hands buried in his pockets. “I had orders from above not to act,” he bit out.
Ben made a rude sound of disbelief. “And you always do what you’re told?”
The Fed got right in his face, his voice hard and clipped. “I get that you’re pissed, Hudson. And yeah, you have a right to be. But I came here to tell you that I’m sorry. I didn’t think the idiot was for real.”
“Yeah, well. Why don’t you try telling that to the family of the woman he killed on Saturday night?”
“And if you’d been doing your job instead of fucking Little Miss Freckles’ brains out twenty-four seven, maybe you’d have caught the bastard before he got to her!”
“You self-righteous son of a bitch!” Ben snarled, throwing a punch that slammed into the Fed’s jaw, knocking him back a few feet. Stalking forward, Ben started to throw another one, but his brother was suddenly forcing his way between them.
“That’s enough!” Alex shouted, shoving him back. “This isn’t helping!”
“But it’s making me feel a hell of a lot better,” Ben growled, pushing Alex aside and shoving Jacobs against one of the massive tree trunks.
With a graveled curse, Alex wrapped his arms around Ben from behind and practically tossed him to the side. “Fucking chill!” he said, still shouting. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t the place for this shit.”
“He’s a fucking Fed!” Ben snapped, flexing his hand.
Alex appeared as stunned as he’d been when he got that bit of news. “What?”
Keeping his attention focused on Jacobs, who was rubbing his jaw, Ben quickly brought his brother up to date. Just as he was finishing, the Fed’s phone started ringing. Walking to the edge of the lake, Jacobs took the call, then made his way back over to them, appearing even more pissed off than he had before. “I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at Ben. “But I meant what I said. I came here to tell you that I’m sorry I fucked up. If it makes you feel any better, I owe you one.”
He wanted to tell the bastard to shove his offer up his ass, but Alex cut him off. “Take it, Ben. It’s always good to have someone like him owe you a favor.”
“Fine,” he ground out, still wishing he’d had the chance to beat the shit out of the prick.
Jacobs started to walk away, then stopped and turned to face him again. “You might also like to know that Houghton’s
people have made it clear you’re not a target. From what I hear, the man would personally thank you, if he could.”
Ben scowled. “What the fuck for?”
Pushing his hands back in his pockets, Jacobs said, “Saving his daughter.”
Alex snorted. “Has the jackass found religion or something?”
Jacobs shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. I just thought you might like to know.”
“Well that was a fucking eye-opener,” Alex muttered, after they’d watched Jacobs climb into a Chevy that’d been left in one of the emergency parking spots right on the curb.
“No shit,” he grunted, shaking his head.
Alex slid him a curious look. “Why aren’t you inside with Reese?”
Ben tried not to wince. “Because I screwed up.”
“What the hell, man? You saved her.”
“Not with that shit. I . . .” His voice trailed off, drying up in his throat. Alex was the last person on earth he wanted to talk this out with. He’d have better luck getting relationship advice from the Manson family.
Alex’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he turned his head to the side, squinting into the morning sunlight. “You really care about this woman, don’t you?”
Ben gave a frustrated sigh. “Yeah.”
Ignoring the NO SMOKING signs plastered everywhere, Alex shook a cigarette from the pack he had in his pocket, lit the tip, then took a slow, deep drag. After he exhaled, he said, “I never told Judith that I loved her.” He rolled his shoulder a little, staring down at the cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know if it would have made a difference. But . . . shit, it couldn’t have hurt. I don’t think Dad ever said it, either.”
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