“Careful, there’s glass everywhere,” he cautioned.
Her eyes widened before she clamped her hands on his wound, causing him to stifle a gasp. Fuck, that hurt!
“Cole!” she screamed out.
He could tell she’d yelled but again her voice sounded distant and muffled. Wishing his damn ears would stop ringing, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were watery, and the sight brought tears to his.
“It’s not too bad, I think,” she said uncertainly.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re shot. Ethan, you’re hurt. Because of me.”
“Stop that.” A firmer tone than he thought he’d be able to muster, it seemed to get through to her. “I told you before, none of this is your fault.”
Cole raced up to them, and dropped to his knees beside Zoë.
“Watch the glass,” Ethan cautioned again.
“Move your hands,” Cole told Zoë gently.
She did, and the relief Ethan experienced died shortly after when Cole’s not-nearly-as-gentle hands lifted his shirt and then pressed his side, front and back. Biting his lip, he wished Cole would stop but knew his friend was helping him. It still hurt like a bitch though. Concern lined Cole’s face as he met Ethan’s eyes.
“It went straight through. It doesn’t look too bad but you need to get to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” Charles’s voice sounded, slightly breathless.
Ethan hadn’t even noticed he’d arrived. He looked up to the man, standing with Boone, and Myles. Both Myles and Boone looked worried as they stared at him, but Charles’s gaze focused on Zoë. His eyes ran over her and seeing she was unharmed, a look of unfathomable relief descended on his face before he turned his attention to Cole.
“I’ve arranged for help.”
As if on cue, Dr. Faye Hughes entered the room, flanked by two men Ethan could only assume were CSIS agents. Black suits and ties, crisp white shirts, with rigid posture and stony faces, they looked like they could be running beside a presidential motorcade. He couldn’t see their ears, but had every confidence they wore wireless earpieces. They were hardly inconspicuous, but certainly looked authoritative. Faye looked around the destroyed room in horrified awe and was a few shades paler than normal. Ethan thought she looked like she needed a doctor.
“Here, apply pressure, I’d better tell poor Faye what’s going on here,” Cole instructed Zoë, then got to his feet and rushed to Faye.
Zoë took his place. Her troubled eyes met Ethan’s. Brimming with tears, they cut through him. He wanted all these people gone, wishing it was just the two of them in the house, as usual. Then he could take her in his arms, embrace away her worry, kiss away her fears, and convince her he was fine. Except he wasn’t. He was a little woozy now. It’s just the aftermath of the adrenaline surge, he told himself, you’re fine.
“Do you think you need a hospital? I’ll talk to my dad,” she said softly.
“No, I’ll be okay.” Cole had said the bullet went through him, which was good news. If Faye could confirm it hadn’t hit anything vital within him, and he doubted it, believing he’d feel much worse if that was the case, he didn’t see the necessity of a hospital visit. She could stitch him up here. Besides, spending time in a hospital would take him away from the only place he wanted to be, by Zoë’s side.
Faye and Cole joined them, and Zoë moved to allow Faye to kneel beside Ethan. He wanted to comment on the glass again but no one else had heeded his warning. Faye’s shocked expression morphed into a rigid professionalism as she examined both sides of his wound.
“I’m confident the bullet went right through, but I’d like you to go to the hospital for x-rays to be sure.”
“No hospital,” Charles announced again, with authority. Faye’s head whipped up and her expression told Ethan she understood Charles was in control of the situation. Her voice was cautious but determined when she replied to him.
“He needs to go to a hospital. While I doubt it, I can’t be sure there aren’t internal injuries. The bullet could have left fragments inside him that could cause further damage, and lead to infection.”
“Yes, but you and I both know that isn’t the case here. You’re a doctor, and I’ve seen enough bullet wounds to know just how lucky Collins is. When my men retrieved you and kept you at the ready, you were told your skills would be needed here, at the ranch, not in a hospital setting.”
“And if he’d actually needed a hospital?” she challenged.
“We would’ve dealt with that. As it stands, we don’t need to.”
The finality in his voice had her sighing as she turned her attention back to Ethan. “I need a cleaner place to patch you up. Do you think you can stand? Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”
“I can get up,” he told her. However, knowing how painfully he’d move, and not wishing to alarm Zoë further, he looked to Boone. He wasn’t surprised when Boone moved forward, able to read the silent plea in his eyes, although he didn’t care for the look in Boone’s. His friend looked scared, even if he tried to hide it. The fear was for him, Ethan knew, and could only imagine his present injured state dredged up bad memories for Boone, the witness to the horrific injuries he’d suffered years ago.
“I got him,” Boone announced in an easy tone, one certain not to alert anyone present.
Ethan bit back a cry as Boone gently pulled him to his feet. Pain seared through his side and he pressed his lips together tightly. Feeling incredibly unsteady, he threw an arm around Boone’s shoulder as his friend slouched dramatically to allow the movement. As Boone slowly moved forward, Ethan leaned heavily against him.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Boone said.
As they made their way, he bit his lip hard. Walking was extremely painful but now that he was moving, he was convinced the injury wasn’t severe. Grateful for the chance to remain on the ranch and have Faye tend to him, even more so for Boone’s help, he flashed his friend a grin.
“You got lucky again,” Boone said quietly.
“And you got my back again. Thank you.”
Boone returned the grin. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped making a habit of this.”
He chuckled. Oh shit, that really hurt. Still, he appreciated Boone’s attempt to lighten the mood. As the pain ebbed somewhat, he could feel the tension from Zoë who, with Faye, followed closely behind. Now anxious to get the medical treatment over with, he quickened his pace.
55
Hidden in the kitchen’s pantry, Nino Rosati swore inwardly. The plan developed by him and his men had failed miserably, and now he stood, stranded, alone in a house filled with people who’d shoot him on sight. Earlier, while his men rushed to the house in cars, he’d stolen across the property on foot, intent on breaking into the house from the side, able to sneak up on Kathryn Matthews while the men protecting her engaged Nino’s men. It was a perfect plan, one certain to eliminate her, and yet had failed somehow. He suspected the men around the house had clued into the distraction and turned back, able to arrive at the ranch in time to take out Nino’s men before they, or he, could kill the Matthews woman. When men had rushed into the house, blocking his way to the room housing the bitch, he had no choice but to hide.
Hearing several voices he didn’t recognize, he knew all his men were dead. The loss of Frank cut deeply, but he could do nothing more than avenge his friend now, and end this as planned. He just needed to wait for some of these people to leave, believing it safe to do so, and then take out Matthews.
Crouching down as he heard someone entering the kitchen, he peered through the slats in the pantry’s door. An incredibly tall man helped Ethan Collins into the kitchen. Kathryn Matthews was with them, along with another woman. The man helped Collins lay on the island in the kitchen and then left. Nino smiled as he silently thanked God for the opportunity before him. Collins was obviously injured, and wouldn’t be able to stop him. He could kill the bitch, and avenge Frank.
/> The two witnesses didn’t concern him. If the house wasn’t still teeming with people, he would’ve taken Collins and the woman out too. Now though, there was no reason to go down for more than one murder charge. Sure, he’d go to jail, but at least the Bosa family wouldn’t be after him, as they would’ve had Matthews been given the opportunity to testify against him for what she’d witnessed. Now, even if she’d told others what she’d seen, it would all be hearsay and wouldn’t hold up in court. He’d be convicted of the murder of Matthews, but nothing else. Hell, he could even run a racket in jail, and still be somewhat of a big shot. Steeling himself for his next act, he slowly reached for the door’s handle.
56
Outside the house, Boone approached Charles and Myles who stood talking as agents buzzed around them. Some were photographing the dead men, others on their phones, still more followed orders barked out to them. A few trucks pulled up and agents rushed to them. It was chaotic, but safe, the threat eliminated and, as Boone approached the pair, he thought of nothing but Ethan. He was sure his friend would be fine, but seeing him injured again did nothing but dredge up the memory of the day long ago, when Ethan had almost died right in front of Boone’s eyes. Stifling the images that flashed through his mind, his thoughts turned to berating himself.
He’d been wrong about Zoë, way wrong, his instincts completely off-base. Some Witness Protection Program Coordinator he’d turned out to be, unable to detect a viable threat to her, certain instead that she was the threat. He convinced himself that, given Zoë’s behaviour, he couldn’t have known what was really going on. He still wished she’d confided in Ethan before all this shit went down. That way, he and Ethan could’ve kept her safer, ensuring none of this happened. Maybe he could’ve talked her into entering the Program, or at least ensured she was never at a place like The Goose where her photo might have been taken. Biting back a resigned sigh, he joined the men.
Charles’s eyes ran the length of him. “I keep forgetting how tall you are. I almost didn’t believe when I read you were six-seven, but you most certainly are.”
Unsure how to respond, Boone nodded, used to people commenting on his size. He didn’t mind, unless they added ridiculous jokes at the same time, like asking him how his basketball skills were, or inquiring what the weather was like at his elevation. Employing his usual stance when talking with others, shifting one foot a distance from the other to minimize the height difference, allowing him to be more eye-level with the man, he lifted his chin.
“Faye’s stitching up Ethan. I’ll get her to check on Skip next. Rory’s with him right now.”
Skip had taken a nasty knock to the back of his head, and was extremely lucky to have only received that injury. The men who’d attacked the house were obviously prepared to kill those present, including police officers. Maybe the man who’d hit Skip wasn’t comfortable killing an older man. Whatever the reason, Boone was thankful Skip was only mildly injured. He’d seen a few minor injuries on some of the others, mostly cuts and scratches from flying glass. Ethan had been the most severely injured, and his wound didn’t appear too bad. All in all, the night had turned out more favourably than he’d expected.
“Good,” Charles replied, with a nod of his head.
Boone still wasn’t sure what to make of Zoë’s father but was grateful the man was on the right side of the law. Earlier, when they’d clued in to the ruse Rosati’s men employed, they’d rushed back to the house, thankfully arriving in time to engage Rosati’s men who’d had Ethan and the others pinned down. A solid marksman himself, Boone had been astounded with the accuracy Charles possessed, taking out many of the men himself. The years certainly hadn’t slowed the man down. He was scarily competent.
Before Boone could enquire about the trucks that had arrived, an agent rushed up to the trio, focusing on Charles.
“Sir, Rosati isn’t among the dead.”
“Are you certain?” Charles asked. Boone could hear the fright in the man’s voice. It echoed his.
“Yes, positive.”
Boone ran to the house, hearing the others behind him. He didn’t know how Rosati had got past them, but he was certain the man would attempt to take out Zoë, who was currently in the kitchen with his injured best friend.
57
“You did get lucky,” Faye informed Ethan as she cleaned his wounds. “The position of the shot is perfect, missing all your internal organs, and arteries. You really are fortunate. I mean, aside from getting shot in the first place. This is the cleanest gunshot wound I’ve ever seen.”
“Seen a lot?” he questioned. Holding Zoë’s hand as Faye worked on him, he tried to keep the situation lighthearted. Despite Faye’s assessment, Zoë still looked worried.
“Yep,” Faye returned with a smile. “Working in rural communities, I’ve seen quite a few. Drunk hunters don’t have the best aim.”
That drew a soft laugh from Ethan that he instantly regretted as it caused a fresh wave of pain. He suspected he’d be sore for a while, but relieved his injuries weren’t bad. He just wanted to get through Faye’s treatment and then deal with Charles and the others, get them out of his house, and then be with only Zoë. She smiled at him, kissed his hand, and then straightened up.
“I’m going to put on some coffee.”
“Sounds good to me,” Faye concurred.
It would be a long night, no matter how much Ethan hoped for the opposite. As Faye prepared a needle, he watched Zoë move to the counter. He’d come close to losing her tonight and it still weighed on him. She was safe now, and he was relieved, but also still filled with an awful lot of remaining questions about her. They had a lot to discuss, and he needed her to come completely clean with him, fill in blanks in the stories she’d given him, and, for once, be completely transparent. Certain she would, and they could start a proper life together, he smiled, despite his current position, about to be sewn up by Faye, who wasn’t exactly gentle. In fact, her rough handling had come as a shock to him. Cole had employed a lighter touch than Faye.
A blur of movement from the pantry drew his eyes to see a man rushing Zoë, leveling a gun at her. She spun to face him. Ethan did all he could do. Launching forward, he knocked Faye to the floor, landing atop her, and covered her body with his. His movement caused tortuous pain to rip through him, and a flash of grey in his vision. They were on the opposite side of the island from Zoë and her attacker, and Ethan’s heart hammered as he could do nothing but listen to what was happening.
He could smell coffee, and hear the shuffling of feet. It could have been the sound of Zoë’s feet moving about the kitchen, veritably glowing as she prepared breakfast. He could almost smell the bacon that accompanied most breakfasts she prepared, hear the sizzle of eggs, the pop of the toasters. But she wasn’t preparing breakfast. She was fighting for her life. He cursed his decision to protect Faye over Zoë, even as he was closer to Faye and, truly, his cop instinct had taken over, the desire to shield an innocent from danger. Zoë was innocent too though, and he’d left her alone with that man. A man armed with a gun.
When a gunshot rang out, he thought his heart would explode. Then he heard struggling. Zoë was fighting with the man. Pulling himself to his knees with a wince, he looked to Faye. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear.
“Stay down,” he snapped.
Getting to his feet with a grunt, his head spinning, he saw Zoë fighting with the man, a knife in her hand, the gun nowhere in sight. She must have disarmed him. Ethan blessedly couldn’t see any wounds on her. Oh, Zoë, you are such an incredible woman! The man held her knife-wielding hand tightly, as he struggled to get control of her other one. She was holding her own, but the man was sturdily built and she was no match for his strength. As Ethan rushed around the island, crippling pain tearing through his side, Zoë stomped on the top of the man’s foot forcibly. He grunted as he hunched, and she head-butted him hard. Ethan was almost upon them when she wrenched her hand free and then drove the knife into the man’s chest.
He fell back on the floor, gasping.
Ethan pulled Zoë to him and embraced her tightly. Her trembling arms wrapped around him, squeezing, causing a fresh wave of pain in his side but he didn’t care. His side, his entire body, could be doused in the most excruciating pain imaginable and he wouldn’t have let go of her.
Faye approached the man cautiously but Ethan could see he was barely moving. He’d be dead in a moment. Foamy blood bubbled on his lips, and his wide eyes stared at the ceiling, but seemed unfocused. Faye knelt beside him.
“That’s Rosati,” Zoë said on a rushed breath.
He’d figured it was, and watched as Rosati gasped once more, a choked, weak sound, and then closed his eyes. Faye placed her fingers on his throat and then rose to her feet. She didn’t announce it, but Ethan knew Rosati was dead.
“It’s over for real this time,” he told Zoë as he squeezed her tighter. “It’s over.”
Boone, Myles, and Charles burst into the kitchen, and their shocked eyes took in the scene. Charles drew close to them, his eyes wet. Ethan knew he wanted to comfort Zoë but didn’t let go of her, not just yet. He felt some guilt in denying Charles the ability to soothe his own daughter, but he couldn’t release his tight hold on Zoë. She’d almost died again, and his heart could barely stand it. He thought it might beat right out of his chest. She trembled, and he kissed the top of her head. Charles could wait. Right now, Ethan needed to feel Zoë in his arms. He needed the physical confirmation she was, finally, safe.
Done a Runner (Wanted Men of Bison Bluffs Book 1) Page 20