Inhale.
Pushing his weight onto the balls of his feet, crouched and ready to explode like a defensive end toward the quarterback, he gave a quick thought to Chloe.
A dark growl from Wöden, drew his attention.
As if his sheer thought conjured her up, movement occurred to his right.
His heart sank.
In the woods outside the far end of the shack stood Chloe.
* * * * *
Despite the snow-covered underbrush, Gage darted between trees in the direction of the gunfire up ahead. Out of his peripheral vision he watched Cleetus and Daniel flanking each side. The three of them made a net to prevent the crazed waitress from escaping. She needed to be contained. Her bloody rampage needed to stop here. The last thing they could let happen was her getting back to a town full of innocent people.
Right now, he had two innocent people to worry about.
His deputy and friend was up there. Bobby’s sister, now his sister, was up there, too. His heart told him to hurry. His head whispered caution.
Two more sprints, and suddenly what looked like a shack came into view. This had to be the deer blind Cleetus said was up here.
Wes shouted something from the structure. Gunfire from inside followed.
Using a thick tree trunk for cover, Gage scanned the area between him and the shack.
A single shot rang out and a hole exploded in the side of the cabin.
“Dammit,” he whispered, recoiling back behind the tree more, but still able to watch the scene in front of him.
Sudden movement caught his attention. What looked like a large mound of snow, leaves and branches rose then lurched in front of the cabin. A bit of bright orange hair hung out one side of the disguise.
Hannah. She wore a ghillie suit to match the winter landscape.
Shit. Earl had been right. The woman not only had a sniper rifle, she was trained as a sniper. How had Wes come into her cross-hairs?
More movement, very slight on the far end of the shack.
Wes was hunkered close to the ground, his attention completely focused on where Hannah now crouched in wait. Gage focused closer. Dark red streaked across the blue of his deputy’s jacket.
Blood. Wes’s? Chloe’s?
Where was Chloe? Still inside the shack?
As if watching a horror movie, something stirred to the opposite side of the shack.
Chloe, appeared.
A tall, straight target.
* * * * *
“God, no,” Wes whispered as Chloe stopped just outside the far door of the shack, fear grabbing him by the chest.
Movement to his left. He wasn’t the only one who’d seen her arrival. The mound of white and tree branches that was Hannah in the sniper-suit shifted. As if in slow motion, the long barrel of the sniper rifle arced in Chloe’s direction. A high-velocity shot at this short distance would tear her apart.
He couldn’t get to Chloe and he was too far out to stop Hannah.
She’d die. Because of him.
The most beautiful, vibrant, intelligent and loving person he’d ever known would be destroyed because of his past. He had one shot to take down the threat.
Lifting his gun, he aimed dead center at Hannah.
Suddenly a whir of grey and white shot out of the shack at Chloe as shots rang out.
* * * * *
Reaching the opening to the shack, Chloe froze.
Through the doorway she found Wes.
He’s alive. He’s not hurt. The fear that had propelled her to find him, eased for a moment. Then his position struck her. Crouched just outside the opposite end of the deer blind, he was armed with his hand gun and a big knife. He was going to attack Hannah?
Was the man crazy?
Something shifted outside the cabin. Like in a fantasy movie the snowy underbrush of the cabin had come to life.
What the hell was that?
A lock of reddish hair, fell out from under a glob of brown leaves stuck to the white mound.
Hannah!
Worse, what looked like a long branch shifted. Blood drained from Chloe’s head. The crazed woman had a rifle pointed right at her.
Turning to gaze at Wes one last time, she saw the terror on his face, just as something big, grey and white leaped out of the shelter of the shack, hitting her full force.
A cacophony of gunfire and screams ripped through the copse of trees.
Chloe landed on the hard, frozen ground with a huge, heavy furry blanket draped on top of her. Her lungs fought to suck in air. She tried to move, but the low growl from Wöden suggested she remain still.
“Listen to the animal,” a now familiar female voice said from behind her.
Harriett crouched beside a thick tree trunk and boulder.
“Wes?”
“Is busy.”
* * * * *
He fired. Not waiting to see if his bullet had done any damage, he dropped his gun and shot out of his crouch straight at his target, screaming to get her attention. “No!”
More gunfire sounded, spinning her slightly.
He flew at her like a centerfielder leaping for a line drive, landing on top of her before she could bring the rifle up. Pain shot up his hip, sending him half off her body.
“Ahggg!” Hannah yelled in his ear, trying to wrestle beneath him, her hands no longer clutching the rifle.
“Stop it, Hannah.” He pressed his weight down on her, trying to get her under control. “Killing me or anyone else isn’t going to bring back Isaac.”
“You killed him. You have to pay for it.” She moved again, the glint of metal flashed before he felt pain in his arm.
He rolled further to the side.
“You bastard!” she screamed, lunging at him, the knife pointed to his gut.
More gunfire sounded.
She spasmed, then fell on top of him. Pain seared into his side.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Wes!” With extra effort, Chloe managed to climb out from under Wöden and scramble through the snow to where Hannah and Wes both lay inert.
“Chole! Get back!” Gage shouted, suddenly appearing from the woods beyond. “She’s still armed.”
“Wes is under her. He’s hurt!” she shouted, ignoring his command.
Abruptly a mountain of a man appeared in front of her, huge arms hugging her close. “Stay back, Miss Chloe,” Cleetus whispered in her ear as she struggled to get free. “Let Gage secure the shooter first. Bobby wouldn’t want anything to happen to her sister.”
Only the mention of her pregnant, beloved sister kept Chloe from leveling the big man with a quick knee to the groin. He turned slightly and she could see Gage crouched next to the jumble of Hannah and Wes, placing his hand on the woman’s neck. He pulled a bloody knife from her hand and set it aside. Tears filled Chloe’s eyes.
Why wasn’t he hurrying?
Why wasn’t he trying to get to Wes?
“Give me a hand.” Gage motioned to the other deputy who’d been keeping a gun focused on the pair. They lifted the massive mound that was Hannah in her camouflage suit off to the side.
With an elbow to Cleetus’s side, Chloe gained her release and rushed over to Wes.
“Wes!” she said, coming to her knees beside him, cradling his head in her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Wes, please, please be alive.”
His eyes opened and he lifted his left hand to cup her face. “Just got the wind knocked out of me counselor.”
“Oh, God!” she said, lowering her mouth to his. The warmth of his lips easing some of her fear. He slid his hand behind her head, gripping her hair in his hand, deepening the kiss.
“If you two are done. I need to see to his wounds.” Harriett said, kneeling beside them.
“Wounds?” Chloe broke off the kiss, sitting back to scan over him. His right leg and arm, along with the side of his chest were covered in blood. “Oh, God, you’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing more than a few cuts,” he said, trying t
o sit up, but Harriett put a hand on his chest, stilling his movements.
“Stay,” she commanded.
“I’m not a pet dog,” Wes muttered.
“Stubborn as one.” Harriett had her hands up under his shirt, placing bandages she’d taken out of the bag Chloe still had on. “Looks like that knife wound glanced off your ribs. You’re going to need stitches. Now let me look at the bullet wound in your leg.”
“Bullet wound?” Wes asked. “Hannah didn’t have time to get a round off my direction. Who shot me?”
“I did. Needed to change your trajectory or you would have this knife deep in your chest instead of glancing off your ribs,” Harriett said, stunning them all. Before anyone could comment, she started giving orders like a drill sergeant to new recruits. “Daniel, go get your truck. Cleetus, bring the dog. Chloe go with him. Animal knows you. Don’t need him biting Cleetus. Gage, call your wife. Tell her that her sister’s okay.”
Everyone scurried to do as she’d ordered. Chloe hurried over to Wöden, reassuring the injured wolf-dog that Cleetus wouldn’t hurt him. Once the big man lifted the animal into his arms, Chloe walked with him through the woods back to Wes’s house.
“Get some blankets,” Harriett said, as she and Gage helped Wes onto the back of the pickup truck Daniel had parked next to Wes’s SUV.
Running into the cabin, Chloe grabbed the blankets from the bed. Back outside, she spread one on the bed of the truck. Wes lay down on one side and Cleetus set Wöden in beside him. The nearness to his friend, seemed to ease the wolf-dog and he nuzzled against Wes’s neck. Climbing into the truck bed with them, Chloe covered them with the other blanket, then hunkered down on the other side. She slipped her hand over Wes’s where he held onto Wöden. Turning his hand, he linked his fingers with hers and squeezed.
“Hold on you two,” Harriett ordered as she climbed into the truck cab with Daniel. “Let’s go wake up the Doc.”
* * * * *
As it turned out they didn’t have to wake up anyone. Doc Clint and his wife, Emma, were standing on the front porch of their clinic when the small caravan of trucks arrived. Beside them was an older, whipcord-lean, man with salt and pepper hair.
The minute the truck came to a stop, everything seemed to happen at once.
“We’ve got two gunshot patients,” Harriett said, as she hopped out of the truck cab. “The human one is a through and through in the right thigh. He’s also got a knife wound to the right lateral chest. Blade didn’t puncture the rib cage. No internal organs hit.”
Chloe moved to the side of the truck bed as the doctor and his wife helped Wes onto a wheelchair and hurried up the ramp into the clinic.
“The non-human patient has at least one gunshot wound to the back-left leg. Possibly a second. Didn’t have a chance to check. Besides I like my fingers. Glad you made it, Neil.”
“Your phone message didn’t give me much choice, Harriett,” the older man said with a chuckle. He stood by the side of the truck and held out his hand for Wöden to sniff. “Hello, old friend. Remember me?”
Instead of snarling like he had when Cleetus first approached him in the woods, Wöden whimpered and nuzzled the man’s hand.
“That’s it. You know I won’t hurt you. Let’s get you inside and make you feel better, okay?” The man turned to Chloe, held out his hand and smiled. “Dr. Neil Haverman, local vet.”
“Chloe Roberts.” She shook his hand. “I figured that’s who you were. Wes told me you treated Wöden when he first found him.”
The rattling of wheels interrupted them as Cleetus pushed a hospital-type gurney down the ramp from the clinic. “Harriett says she has room two ready for you Doc.”
Chloe moved to the side of the truck so the men could move the wolf-dog onto the stretcher, then followed them inside. “What can I do?”
“Go keep him calm,” Harriett said coming out of a room.
Chloe started after Cleetus and the vet.
“Not the animal. I can handle that. You keep the human patient calm. He keeps asking if you’re alright,” she said, pointing to the room she just left.
Hesitantly, Chloe stepped into the exam room. Wes lay on a stretcher-type table, his torso naked, a thermal blanket draped over his lower half except for his right leg, which was heavily bandaged from around the thigh. Beside him stood the doctor and his wife and a tall metal table.
Emma smiled over her shoulder when she saw her standing in the doorway. “You can sit right there,” she said, pointing to the cane-back chair on the opposite side of the room.
Wes lifted his head slightly and held out his hand.
Without hesitation, and not caring who might be watching, Chloe hurried to his side and slipped her hand in his. The strength of his grip reassured her that he was going to be okay.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.
“Yes. Of course. You were the one shot.”
“Saw Wöden knock you down.” He tried to lift his other arm to her face. Emma grabbed it.
“Dammit, hold still, Wes,” Clint said, pausing with a medical instrument holding a needle and suture out of the way. “It’s difficult enough to sew at this angle without you making the cut a moving target.”
“Sorry, Doc.” Wes said, again his words slurred.
He rested his arm back over his head, exposing the wound on his right outer chest for the doctor to continue his suturing. Chloe focused on Wes’s face and not the repair work going on to his body. There was a reason Dylan was the surgeon and not her.
“You might…have…a…concussion,” Wes said, staring into her eyes. His pupils were bigger than she’d ever seen.
“We’ll check her out once you’re patched up,” the doctor said, not looking up from his work.
“Sorry…I didn’t…keep you…safe,” Wes said, his eyes slowly going shut.
“Wes?” Chloe squeezed his hand in hers, panic rising inside her.
“He’s okay, just asleep.” The doctor said. “Harriett gave him some Dilaudid for pain before you came in the room.”
Chloe turned to the doctor and nurse. “Are you sure there wasn’t some internal damage? Shouldn’t he be at a hospital? Getting x-rays or an MRI or a Cat Scan?”
Clint removed his gloves and stepped back so his wife could start putting a dressing over the knife wound. He pointed to Wes’s thigh. “Harriett’s triage assessment was correct. The gunshot was a through-and-through, just needed stitching up. He’ll hurt for a while and need time for the muscles to heal, but no bone was broken.” Then he nodded to the wound in his side. “The knife pierced his chest, but didn’t go through the ribs or hit his lung.”
“How do you know without doing some sort of tests?”
“He would’ve been having great trouble breathing. Skin would’ve been blue. Probably would’ve coughed up some blood,” Harriett said coming in behind them, bustling around to unlock the wheels on the stretcher. “Room’s ready, if you’re done.”
Emma nodded, moving the metal tray out of the way. Chloe scooted back against the wall as the pair started out of the room. She went to follow them.
“Stay,” Harriett commanded and continued pushing the stretcher out of the room.
Chloe froze. Everyone in Westen was wrong. Harriett hadn’t been in the CIA. The woman had been a drill sergeant in another life.
A chuckle sounded behind her. “Probably both.”
Her cheeks flushed as she realized she’d been speaking out loud. “I’m sorry. It’s just. She’s scary.”
“Tell me about it. The woman drives me crazy on a daily basis,” Clint said, taking her elbow and leading her back to the chair she’d vacated. “Wes says you hit your head?”
“No, I don’t think so. It all happened so fast. One moment I was looking into the rifle barrel—” She started shaking.
The doctor took both her hands in his, chaffing them. “Take a slow deep breath.”
She did but the shaking seemed to get worse. “Then…Wes’s fac
e…and…Wöden knocked me down.” She hiccupped and her teeth chattered. “He…saved…my life.”
A heated blanket suddenly surrounded her. She looked up to see Emma standing beside her. “It’s alright now, Chloe. It’s all over.”
“But it’s not over. Is it, Chloe?” a deep voice said from the door. Gage stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, concern in his eyes, looking very much like the town sheriff.
Chloe shook her head. Her brother-in-law was right. The danger was far from over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Turned out, having a possible concussion worked in her favor. Clint insisted Gage’s interrogation take a back seat to her examination. Slightly disgruntled, Gage had agreed and left to help his deputies deal with Hannah’s body. Chloe knew it was only a temporary reprieve. He’d be back to get his questions answered, this time with her sister.
“I’m sorry,” Wes said from the bed beside her.
“You’re awake,” she said, scooting her chair closer.
A whimper sounded from the floor near the wall where Harriett had made a makeshift bed for Wöden.
“Might as well put him in here,” she’d muttered as she put the mattress from a stretcher on the floor and covered it with blankets. “No way is he leaving that wound alone if we let him out. If I’m going to have two cranky patients, might as well have them in the same room.”
“How is he?” Wes asked, leaning over enough to see his friend.
“The vet said he’d had two gunshot wounds. The first was the one we knew about when we found him. The second one, probably when he jumped to save my life, grazed across his rump.”
“Rump?” Wes chuckled, then held his side. “Damn.”
“Are you okay?” Chloe said, hurrying to the other side of the bed and pulling back the cover to examine his bandage. She moved his hand, checking that all the edges still held and no bleeding was on it.
“I’m fine, counselor,” Wes said, taking her hand in his and stilling her movement. “I’m just going to have to keep from laughing for a few days.”
“That goes for coughing, sneezing, and any other sudden movements. Trust me on this one.” They looked up to see Gage standing in the doorway, Bobby just behind him. He nodded to where Wöden lay resting, the cone of shame around his head to prevent him gnawing at his stitches. “Is he going to be okay with us coming in there?”
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 26