Under Fire

by Beth Cornelison

  “You’re not going to kiss me too, are you?” Birdman said, deadpan.

  Jackson didn’t miss a beat. “Well, you’re not as pretty as Lauren, but…” He dropped his hold on Lauren and stepped toward Whitefeather.

  In turn, Whitefeather held up his hands, cracked a grin and stepped back. “Keep your distance, McKay. A handshake will do.”

  Jackson chuckled and extended his hand. “Thank God.” He pumped Whitefeather’s hand and grew more serious. “And thank you, for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A doctor in scrubs emerged from a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and approached the group.

  “That’s Boomer’s surgeon,” Birdman said then strode over to meet the doctor.

  “Are you Jake Randolf’s family?” the surgeon asked Jackson and Lauren.

  “We’re friends. Is he all right?” Lauren asked, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

  The surgeon smiled. “I just checked on him. He’s waking up, and his vitals look good.”

  Lauren released the breath she was holding. “That’s great.”

  The doctor divided his gaze between Birdman and Jackson. “He’s asking to see someone named Mike. Is that one of you?”

  Lauren raised her hand. “That’d be me.”

  Boomer’s doctor raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh. Well, they’ll be moving him to a room in a little while. You can go in and see him if you like, but keep it brief. No more than five minutes. He’ll be groggy, might talk nonsense. That’s the anesthesia wearing off. But he should be fine.”

  She felt Jackson’s hand on her shoulder. Steady. Reassuring. The worst was over. They could all breathe easier.

  And life could return to normal.

  But what exactly was normal now?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With the help of a pediatric floor nurse, Jackson and Lauren settled Emily in her hospital room. After her blood oxygen level and vitals were rechecked, Jackson’s daughter extracted a promise from him that he wouldn’t leave her room for anything, and within minutes, the exhausted child was asleep.

  For the life of him, Jackson couldn’t stop touching Emily—her hair, her hand, her cheek—reassuring himself that she was safe and drinking in the sight of her.

  Lauren divided her time between Boomer’s bedside and Emily’s, reporting back to Jackson on Boomer’s increasingly good condition.

  A few hours later, as Jackson dozed in the chair by Emily’s bed, Sheriff Billows stopped by the room to update Jackson on the latest information the FBI agents had.

  Double-checking that Emily was still asleep, Jackson stepped out to the hall just as Lauren returned from her latest trip to Boomer’s room.

  Billows addressed them both. “The man they arrested at the cabin, the one shot in the calf, is Kenneth Carson. Goes by Kenny. The woman they found is his stepmother, Cara Carson. The name sounded familiar so I did some checking. Turns out Kenny’s father, Raymond Carson, is a patient at the Redmont Nursing Home. Terminal cancer.

  “Both Kenny and Cara have previous arrests for disturbing the peace, resisting arrest at demonstrations and unlawful assembly. Both are very anti-government. Kenny’s not saying much about the kidnapping or their terrorist intentions, and the woman’s too critical to answer questions.”

  “Then she’s still alive? And she’s here in this hospital?” Lauren asked.

  “Yeah, fourth floor,” Billows answered.

  She bit her bottom lip and met Jackson’s eyes. “Emily was asking about her. She saw Cara get shot.”

  Jackson’s stomach rolled, and he braced himself by grabbing the doorframe. “Oh God. Emily…”

  “I think it would do her morale some good to know Cara’s alive, that she survived the gunshot wound.”

  “You should know,” Billows added. “She’s not expected to make it.”

  Jackson rubbed his jaw and scowled. “I don’t know. I don’t want her anywhere near those people again.”

  “She’s hardly a threat anymore, Jackson. The woman is dying. And she’s important to Emily. Despite your feelings toward her, Emily and she bonded somehow during this whole ordeal.”

  Jackson lifted a dubious stare. How could Emily have bonded with the woman who’d kidnapped her?

  He shook his head and sighed. “We’ll see.” When he faced the sheriff again, he asked, “What about the others? There were five in the group that kidnapped us. We know Vince was killed, that still leaves Rick and Montego.”

  Billows fingered the wide brim of the sheriff’s hat he held and cleared his throat. “The FBI found a charred body not far from the cabin, beside a burned out van. We’re waiting on confirmation from dental records, but the Feds believe it could be Juan Montego. Information on him is sketchy.”

  “And Rick?”

  Billows shrugged. “No sign of him. He’s probably gone underground by now.”

  “So what are they doing to find him?” Jackson asked.

  “They’ve released an APB along with the sketch made from the description you gave. They’ll be watching his house, his credit cards—hell, his library card. He makes a move anywhere, the Feds will know.”

  Lauren grunted. “Big Brother is watching.”

  Billows quirked an eyebrow. “Given cause, yes.” He glanced back at Jackson. “Oh, and Agent Tarver sent word they want to speak with you again, after your daughter is released. Someone from the Department of Defense, Nick Rangard, is on his way here.”

  Jackson’s shoulders sagged, and he raked a hand through his hair. “Rangard. Hell.”

  “You know him?” Lauren asked.

  “He was my primary contact at the Pentagon regarding Stabilzon. I’m kinda surprised it took him this long to show. They usually kept me on a pretty short leash.”

  “Tarver wants a few minutes with you too, Miss Michaels. Then the BLM has requested that you and John Whitefeather report back to base camp for a briefing.”

  She met Jackson’s glance, her eyes sad, then nodded to Billows. “All right. I’ll be here or in Jake Randolf’s room when they need me.”

  “Meantime if either of you think of anything else, no matter how trivial it seems, let me or one of the FBI agents know about it.” Billows handed them each a business card, which Jackson stuck in his pocket.

  Placing his hat back on his head, Billows gave a nod and headed down the corridor.

  Jackson watched the sheriff leave and quirked a half-grin. “I underestimated him.”

  “The Mayberry comments?” Lauren stroked a hand down his arm and snuggled close to him.

  “Yeah. He’s a good man. A real help.”

  Lauren slid her arms around Jackson’s waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “You should tell him that. Everyone likes to hear they’re appreciated. That they’ve done their job well.”

  Jackson wrapped his arm around Lauren, settling his hand low on her back to nudge her closer. He caught the curious side-glance of a nurse who passed them, and he whispered in Lauren’s ear, “Follow me. We don’t have much privacy here.”

  Holding her hand, he returned to Emily’s room, checked that his daughter was still sleeping soundly, then tugged Lauren into the adjoining private bathroom. After closing the door behind them, he pressed her against the wall and seized her lips for a deep kiss.

  Lauren hummed her approval and reached around Jackson to squeeze his buttocks as she sank into him.

  An answering heat surged through him. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered between kisses.

  Lauren gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s only been about twelve hours since you left the motel this morning.”

  He grunted his acknowledgment as he parted her lips with his tongue, glided his hand from her cheeks to rest at her waist. Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “Longest twelve hours of my life. And not just because I was missing you.”

  She nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  He pulled her more firmly against him in a one-armed hug, his left arm back
in the sling and wedged between them. “I needed this. Needed you. When they said Emily wasn’t at the cabin…” He shuddered remembering the sick, sinking loss and horror he’d known.

  “Shh, it’s over. She’s safe.” Lauren pressed warm lips to his temple and her fingernails scraped lightly across his back as she held him. “Emily’s a great kid. She’s beautiful, Jackson. And bright. And strong. She’s everything you said she was and more. I really like her.”

  A proud smile curved his lips, and he rested his forehead against Lauren’s. “Thanks. I think the feeling is mutual. She told me how you stayed with her in the ER and how much that meant to her.”

  Lauren glanced down, her face sobering. “She’s had a lot to deal with, Jackson. She, um…will probably need counseling. She’s very frightened about being left alone. Birdman said she had nightmares.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed, tightening his hold on Lauren. “Damn Rick and his cronies. I could kill ’em with my bare hands for what they’ve done to her, for putting her at risk.”

  “Jackson, about Cara—”

  “No! I don’t want Emily anywhere near her.”

  Lauren huffed. “Emily said the woman saved her life. She got shot helping Emily escape. Emily needs to see her. She needs closure.”

  Every muscle in Jackson’s body stretched taut enough to break. “I just want to protect her. Emily’s already lost her mother, Lauren. I—”

  “All the more reason to give her this chance to say goodbye to someone she cares about. She never got that chance with Janine.”

  Like a punctured balloon, the fight drained from Jackson. His limbs shook, and he had to brace his arm on the bathroom wall to remain standing. “I hate this. I hate seeing my baby hurt.”

  “I know.” She put a hand on each side of his jaw and brushed his lips with hers. “Emily’s lucky to have a father like you.”

  He bit back the argument that sprang to his tongue. After all, his research was the reason Emily had been through this ordeal in the first place. Instead he caught Lauren’s mouth again and filled himself with the sweet pleasure of holding her, tasting her, touching her.

  “When Emily wakes up, I’ll see if the doctors will allow her to see Cara.”

  Lauren smiled. “Good.” She wove her fingers through his hair and massaged the tendons at the back of his neck. “And in case I didn’t say it before…I missed you too.”

  He sealed his lips over hers, drinking in the peace, the centeredness that only she gave him. Amazing really, since he’d known her such a short time, that she had that way of speaking to his soul, of calming the storm inside him and sparking a hope, a yearning for a bright future. But how bright would that future be without her in it? He and Emily would survive, would be fine on their own, but something would be missing. The past few days had changed him.

  Lauren had changed him. She’d challenged him. Inspired him. Given him so much.

  The thought of letting her go sliced deep with a jagged edge of regret.

  I could fall for you too, Jackson.

  Did he dare put his heart on the line again to love a woman he could lose too easily? In a heartbeat. A gunshot. A failed parachute.

  And how could he let his daughter grow close to someone who might be snatched away from their lives the way Janine had been? Emily had suffered so much already.

  Jackson kissed Lauren deeper, trying to blot out the demon doubts, wanting to lose himself in the retreat she offered. Her hands roamed, lighting fires, fueling his body’s ache for her. He kissed her with an urgency, a need to claim her, to brand her in a way that made her irrevocably his.

  When she arched her neck, gasping for a breath, he traced his tongue down the curve of her throat to the hollow between her collarbones. “Don’t leave,” he murmured against her skin. “Stay with me. Make love to me. Let me hold you like this every day. Grow old with me.”

  A purring sound rumbled from her throat. “I’d love that. But—”

  “No buts. Just say yes.” He moved lower, kneading her breast with his right hand while his mouth closed over the nipple that strained against her T-shirt.

  She moaned and thrust her chest out while her hands tugged his shirt up and found the overheated skin of his back. “I want you naked,” she whispered, and his groin responded with a hot, heavy throb.

  He insinuated a hand between her legs, found her wet and swollen. Ready for him. He groaned and sank two fingers deep inside her.

  “Daddy?” a tiny voice called from outside the door.

  Jackson jolted as if doused with cold water. He snatched his hand back and gulped a steadying breath.

  “Daddy!”

  “I’m here, Emily. Just a sec.”

  Lauren pulled away, panting, trembling like he was with unspent passion. She finger-combed his mussed hair and helped him straighten his shirt. There wasn’t much he could do about the bulge at his fly.

  He splashed cool water on his face at the sink while Lauren righted her clothes, and before he exited the bathroom, he took one last fortifying breath.

  Emily gave them an odd look when they came out of the bathroom together. “Why were you both in there?”

  “We needed to talk and didn’t want to wake you,” Lauren said without missing a beat.

  Emily nodded, accepting this explanation without question.

  Jackson resumed his post at the side of the bed and took Emily’s hand. “How do you feel?”

  “Better. When can we go home?”

  Home. God, that sounded good to him too.

  “Soon, Em. In the morning.” Clearing his throat, he glanced at Lauren then back at his little girl. “Emily, Lauren told me about Cara. How much she means to you.”

  His daughter’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “She took care of me.”

  “Yeah. And I’m so glad she did.” He rubbed a knuckle along her jaw and steeled himself. “Emily, she’s…here. At this hospital.”

  She scowled and shook her head. “No. She’s dead.” Emily’s eyes teared. “Montego shot her. I-I saw him…”

  “She didn’t die, honey. The FBI men found her and brought her here. But…she’s very weak. Her injuries were serious.”

  Emily struggled to sit up, a desperate pleading filling her face. “Can I see her? Please?”

  The plaintive rasp in Emily’s voice tattered what was left of his doubts. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  If it meant moving heaven and earth, he’d make the visit happen for Emily. It was the least he could do for her.

  Getting permission to see Cara took some finagling, some string pulling with the FBI, but finally Emily was allowed a short visit.

  With an uneasy tension winding him tight, Jackson stood at the door to Cara’s room and watched his daughter approach the bedside. The woman’s face was pinched and pale, and numerous tubes and wires were taped to her skin. A nasal cannula fed oxygen into her nose.

  For a moment, Emily only stood and stared, trembling a bit. Jackson drew on every bit of his remaining strength not to snatch Emily away from the bed and shield her from this reminder of her traumatic past days.

  Finally, Emily touched the woman’s still hand and leaned against the mattress to whisper, “Cara?” She inched closer. “Cara, it’s me. Emily. I—”

  The woman’s eyelids twitched, lifted slowly, and Emily drew in a sharp breath.

  “‘Mm-ly?” Cara mumbled.

  Emily’s shoulders shook, the only sign Jackson had she was crying until she spoke again, her voice choked and high pitched from emotion. “I wanted to see you. I had…I had to say thank you.” Emily sniffed. “You saved my life. And Montego shot you. But I never wanted you to get hurt. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

  Cara’s fingers moved, shifted to cover Emily’s and curl weakly around his daughter’s hand. “Shh.”

  Emily swiped at her face. “Don’t die, Cara. I don’t want you to die.”

  Pain stabbed Jackson’s heart. He should end this now. It was too much, too hard for Emil
y.

  Cara drew a shallow breath that clearly took most of her strength. “We…all die…‘M-ly. But never…really gone.” She raised her arm, and it shook with the effort. She tapped Emily’s chest. “People…we love…are here. Always.”

  “Like my mom. You said she still takes care of me. Watches out for me from heaven.”

  Cara’s lips jerked in a facsimile of a smile. “Yes.”

  “Are they going to put you in jail? ’Cause I’ll tell the police how you took care of me. How you helped me with my asthma and saved me from Montego. How you helped me escape. That has to count for something.”

  The woman winced, said nothing.

  “Cara?”

  “Y’re a…good girl. My boys never…” She closed her eyes and fell silent again without finishing the thought.

  Her boys. Kenny was her stepson, Billows had said. Had she had another son? Or two? Jackson’s mind scrambled processing this bit of information, and he nearly missed Emily’s next words.

  She leaned close to Cara’s pillow, right next to her ear and whispered, “I love you, Cara. I’ll never forget you.”

  Jackson’s heart stilled. Oh, Emily.

  A tear leaked from the older woman’s eye, and the heart monitor beside the bed beeped just a little faster. “Mm’ly…you saved…my life.”

  Emily sat back and cocked her head. “Me? How? When? I don’t understand.”

  But Cara offered no explanation. She closed her eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath through her mouth.

  “Cara?”

  “So…tired.”

  Emily looked around at all the devices hooked to the woman, wiped her nose on her arm and plucked at the thin blanket covering Cara.

  In the awkward silence, Jackson’s mind spun like a tornado. There was something here he was missing. He knew it. Something had niggled for hours, since he’d talked to Billows outside Emily’s room.

  Turns out Kenny’s father, Raymond Carson, is a patient at the Redmont Nursing Home. Terminal cancer.

  Jackson rubbed his jaw, dug into his memory.

  The waitress at the diner in Redmont…telling them how full the motel was likely to be…

  And Raymond Carson’s boy came in town unexpectedly to visit him over at the nursing home, was in here earlier for dinner. Poor Raymond’s not doing so well these days I hear. Cancer’s just eating him up.