“Cheyenne!” Steve called as he reached for her.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her descent. Unfortunately, their presence had been noticed.
“What the hell was that?” someone from below snapped. “I thought you said there wasn’t anyone else up here?”
“Take care of him. I’ll go take care of our voyeurs.”
“Oh, shit,” Cheyenne whimpered.
“Come on, Shy. We gotta get out of here.”
With Steve’s help, Cheyenne got to her feet. They ran up the hill, not even bothering to remain quiet. At this point, they needed to get away. Her heart pounded, and nausea rolled through her stomach. She’d never been so afraid in her life.
Keeping her eyes on the ground, she squinted through the darkness for anything that might make her trip. She ignored the small limbs that slapped at her face, neck, and shoulders. A few cuts on her face were much better than bullets any day.
A shot sounded from behind them, and Cheyenne choked back a sob. Was that aimed at them or the man they’d been torturing? No scream followed the shot, so she assumed he’d died instantly, finally free of the pain and fear.
Would that be her fate?
Steve stopped and allowed her to move past him, putting himself between her and the man chasing them. She could hear their pursuer as he forced his way through the brush. He was close. She glanced over her shoulder but without the moonlight couldn’t see more than a few feet away.
The light from a flashlight swiped across Steve’s back. Cheyenne gasped just as a shot was fired. Steve lurched forward, his face contorting in pain.
“No!” she screamed and rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground.
The shot had hit his shoulder. Blood oozed down his arm and back.
“Look at me,” she yelled. “It’s just a shoulder wound. We have to move.”
Steve shook his head and pushed away from her. “Go. There’s no way I can keep up.”
Another shot rang out, but it missed, hitting the tree a few inches from Steve’s head. Bark exploded off the trunk, raining down on both of them.
“I am not leaving you,” she snapped, shoving Steve forward. “Move it. Now!”
Steve stumbled but remained on his feet as they rushed up the hill. The trail was only a few yards away, but would that save them? They would be out in the open. Their only chance was to lose their pursuer in the thick woods…somehow.
The roar of four-wheelers could be heard in the distance. Cheyenne’s first instinct was to run toward the sound, but what if they were the bad guys? What if? Oh, God. What should she do?
The sound of footsteps behind them was closing in. They couldn’t outrun him; Steven was too hurt. They would have to take a chance and hope the four-wheelers weren’t with the guy chasing them.
* * * *
Grayson stopped the four-wheeler and listened closely. He put his hand up, signaling the others to stop as well.
“What is it?” Parker asked as he came to a stop beside him.
“I heard two more gunshots.”
“I’m amazed you can hear anything above the roar of the motors. I can’t hear a damn thing,” Parker replied.
They both shut their motors down. The others followed suit and waited as Grayson continued to listen.
Off to the right, the sound of rustling came through the trees. Grayson, along with the other four FBI agents, pulled his gun and waited for whoever was making the noise to appear. It wasn’t an animal. It was too loud, too clumsy as it pushed through the trees. He doubted it was the mob either. They would most likely shoot from the tree line, not alert them to their presence by making so much noise.
“Hurry,” a female voice said.
Grayson climbed off his four-wheeler and moved to stand next to Parker’s. They glanced at each other, silently letting the other know he had his back. They’d been inseparable since they were born. Even as children, they had been able to read each other. But as adults, that talent had intensified tremendously.
Two people burst through the tree line a few feet away. Someone shone a flashlight, and Grayson could see one was a male covered in blood, his body hunched over in both pain and fatigue. The other was female. Her face was pale in the darkness and covered in scratches, her eyes wide with fear, her hair full of leaves and twigs. Grayson’s protective instincts kicked in, and he rushed toward them.
“Help us, please,” she said. “He’s been shot.”
Grayson held up his badge for her to see. “FBI. What happened?”
“Oh, thank God,” she said with a sigh. “I took a chance you weren’t the bad guys. There’re men down there with guns. They were torturing someone. They heard me and chased us. That’s who shot Steve.”
While Grayson spoke with the woman, Parker came over and turned Steve so he could examine the wound. Steve looked pale and about ready to fall. The exertion had caused him to lose a lot of blood, but the wound shouldn’t be life threatening.
“It didn’t go through, so it’s still in there,” Parker said. “Radio down the hill and tell them we need medical.”
One of the other agents picked up his radio and called it in while Parker helped Steve over to one of the four-wheelers so he could sit down. Grayson turned to look at the young woman. “Can you tell me where they were?” he asked.
She nodded and pointed down the hill. “Several yards that way.”
Her fingers shook, and she pulled them back, clutching her hands in an effort to stop their trembling. She looked so fragile standing there, Grayson wanted to tug her into his arms and hold tight, to reassure her that everything would be okay. But he kept his distance.
She didn’t know him and might not appreciate such a move. Besides, he didn’t know who Steve was to her. The last thing he needed was an injured husband trying to take his head off.
The other agents headed down the hill in search of the wounded undercover agent. Grayson wanted to go with them, but he didn’t dare leave this man and woman unprotected, especially if they were witnesses.
“Do you think you could describe them to a sketch artist or pick them out of a lineup?” he asked.
She snorted and lifted the camera she had around her neck. “I can do better than that.”
“Holy shit,” Grayson said as he took the camera from her hands. “You got pictures?”
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Was that a bad thing?”
Grayson chuckled. “No, ma’am.”
She smiled slightly and glanced over his shoulder at Steve. A worried look creased her brow.
“He’ll be okay,” Grayson said softly. “Husband?”
She shook her head. “No.” She turned her stare back to Grayson, and he couldn’t stop thinking how pretty she was, even with all the twigs sticking out of her hair.
Back off, Grayson. What the hell are you doing?
“I’m Cheyenne Willis. I’m a cardiologist at County Hospital.”
Grayson smiled slightly. A woman with brains. He liked that. “Grayson Marx.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Your friend?”
“Steve Franklin. He’s a pediatrician. I dabble in photography, and he came camping with me so I could get some night shots. We heard the gunfire from our campsite and went to investigate. Because of the man’s scream, I thought maybe he was someone who’d fallen and accidentally shot himself. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Grayson nodded, smiled in understanding, and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “They won’t be able to get the ambulance up here, so let’s get Steve to the bottom.”
“Was the man who was shot an FBI agent?” she asked. “They were asking him about who else was undercover?”
Grayson cursed softly. “Did they torture him?”
She cringed. “I’m sorry.”
Grayson gave a nod. “Come on. Let’s get you guys out of here.”
Chapter Three
Cheyenne sat by Steve’s hospital bed as the FBI agents explained what would happen next. Ap
parently, she and Steve had stumbled into a mess. They were key witnesses to the murder of an FBI undercover agent, and because of that, life as they knew it was now over.
Protective custody. Witness protection. New identities.
Cheyenne felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. “Is this really necessary?”
“Protective custody, yes,” Grayson said from his spot by the wall. “New identities, maybe, maybe not.”
Cheyenne stared at Grayson and his partner, Parker, who looked so much like Grayson. She’d wondered if they were brothers, but they had different last names. She supposed that didn’t mean anything. Lots of brothers and sisters had different last names.
Both were tall, muscular, and had the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. They each had black hair, but Parker kept his much shorter than Grayson. Parker’s was less than an inch long, while Grayson’s went past his collar, the ends curling over the blue fabric of his shirt.
“How long will we be in protective custody?” Steve asked.
Cheyenne looked over at her friend. Steve had hardly said three words to her since coming out of surgery. He was angry, and, truthfully, maybe he should be. She’d run off, determined to help someone, and look where they’d ended up. Almost dead themselves. They still could be. If nothing else, their careers were probably dead.
They would have to start over, unable to use any references or work history from their past. And what about their degrees? How would all this work?
“Until it goes to trial, which shouldn’t be long,” Parker replied. “The FBI is tracking the mob down now.”
“What if they go into hiding?” Cheyenne asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Grayson replied. “In the meantime, we’ll run on the assumption things will happen quickly.”
Steve didn’t say anything, but Cheyenne didn’t miss the way the muscles in his cheek jerked. He was pissed. Regret tightened her stomach. She was going to lose him over this, and that would break her heart.
“Cheyenne,” Grayson began, “you will go with Parker and me. Steve will go with Agents Borell and Sneed.”
Her gaze moved quickly back to Grayson. “We’re not staying together?”
“Absolutely not. We can’t risk it. It’s better to keep you separated. That way, if one of you is found, the other is still safe.”
“That’s comforting,” Steve snarled.
“Steve—”
“Drop it, Cheyenne,” Steve snapped.
Her lips tightened. She took a deep breath and stood, staring down at her friend. He wouldn’t look at her. Putting her hands on her hips, she snapped, “Is this how it’s going to be? You’re not even going to look at me? How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
Steve continued to stare at the wall over her shoulder. Tears gathered in her eyes, and hurt tore at her chest like a claw hammer. They’d been through so much. Angry with each other even, but never like this.
Grayson walked up and put his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get going,” he murmured.
“What about clothes? Personal stuff?” she asked.
“We’ll take care of that. You can’t go back home. Not now.”
Cheyenne sighed as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She wiped it away in frustration and gave Steve one more look. “I love you, Steve. I hope you can forgive me.”
Steven swallowed, but his gaze never met hers.
Biting her lip to keep from crying, she left the hospital room and rushed down the hall to the roof access and the helicopter that waited for them. She studied every male who passed, looking for the faces of the mob she was sure would haunt her dreams. Even walking between Grayson and Parker didn’t make her feel any safer. Would she ever feel safe again?
They climbed into the helicopter: she and Parker in the back, Grayson and the pilot up front. Grayson turned in his seat and handed her a headset. She put it on, her lip quivering in sadness and hurt. “He’ll forgive you,” Grayson said through the headset.
Cheyenne shook her head and set the mic in front of her mouth. “Not if he loses everything he’s worked so hard for.”
“Neither of you will lose that,” Parker said from beside her as he adjusted his seatbelt. “Once this is all over, even if you need new identities, you’ll still have your careers. The agency will make sure you have everything you need to start over.”
“Make sure they tell him that,” she said.
Grayson smiled slightly and nodded. He turned back around in his seat to face the front and signaled the pilot they were ready.
Things had happened so fast, Cheyenne hadn’t had much time to really process everything. What about her patients? She would need to get notes to the doctors who would take over for her. Maybe one of the agents could get a message out so she wouldn’t have to contact them directly. Some of her patients, especially the nervous ones she’d been working with for a while, would be upset that she was gone. That she wasn’t there to hold their hands as they went under like she’d promised.
Open-heart surgery was scary, and some patients spent weeks working themselves up to being able to do it. If she wasn’t there, would they back out? Would they die because of her?
Another tear slipped free, and she choked back a sob. Parker curled his arm around her shoulders, offering support. “Women say I have a very comfortable shoulder to cry on.”
His voice came through her headset like a beacon of light and reassurance. She glanced over at him and his broad chest. She bet he did have a very comfortable shoulder. She snorted slightly at his attempt to make her smile, but the understanding in his eyes forced the dam to burst.
With a loud hiccup, she dropped her head on his shoulder and let the tears flow.
PARKER HAD A hard time listening to her soft sobs. He hated to hear women cry. He always felt helpless. She’d held up so well until Steve had basically turned his back on her. Parker would have liked nothing more at the moment than to deck the guy, but he was hoping her friend would eventually come around.
It was a lot to take in. Being shot and his whole life turned upside down, all because his friend wanted to help someone. It wasn’t fair.
Grayson glanced at them over his shoulder, and Parker didn’t miss the spark of interest in his cousin’s gaze. Their connection wasn’t just proximity or closeness of family. Born from identical twin sisters in the same year, they’d been together since birth. Parker believed it was something his mother had done. Both sisters dabbled in witchcraft. Still did today. Parker was convinced his mother had woven a spell of protection around him and Grayson that had somehow bound them and given them a mental connection that at times was quite strange.
Parker knew when Grayson was upset or hurt and vice versa. A few times Grayson had been hit somewhere and the bruise would show up on Parker, or Parker had been cut and Grayson would get the scar. Some of those had been more than a little difficult to explain, so they hadn’t. They’d remained silent and let everyone make their own determinations, and there had been quite a lot of doozies.
Right now, looking into Grayson’s eyes, Parker could feel Grayson’s attraction to Cheyenne. Parker felt that attraction too. She was adorable. Smart and pretty, even with all the twigs still in her hair and smudges of blood and dirt on her face. And those eyes. They were the most unusual shade of blue. Not sky blue like his and Grayson’s, but a bright turquoise color.
She was about five feet six. The top of her head came to his shoulders. As they sat in the backseat, he realized how nicely she fit against him. Thoughts of sharing her with Grayson ran through his mind, and he blinked to clear his head. He had no business going there. She was under their protection.
He looked at Grayson and shook his head slightly. They both needed to get a grip on this. No sharing the witness.
Chapter Four
Cheyenne stood back and stared at the secluded, three-story cabin nestled on the mountains above Gatlinburg, Tennessee. She’d always wanted to come here. It was
a shame that, under the circumstances, she wouldn’t get to explore it.
“We called ahead with your sizes, so the local Tennessee Bureau of Investigation agents should’ve left a few outfits here for you,” Grayson said as he came to stand next to her.
She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun setting over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He was so gorgeous, and his tall, muscular body left her feeling vulnerable and a bit warm inside.
Her stomach loudly protested the fact she’d missed lunch earlier. As soon as she heard the sound, she cringed, and her face heated with embarrassment. She always hated when her stomach did that. “What about food?” she asked.
With his face in shadow, it was hard to see his expression, but she’d have sworn she saw his lips twitch. “The cabin is always stocked, although there may be a few things we’ll need still. We’ll see what we have, and then I’ll make a run to town if necessary.”
She nodded and turned back to the cabin. The setting sun gave the dark wood a reddish hue. Two chimneys stood tall on either side of the house, like sentries guarding the grounds. A porch ran across the front and down one side to the back, where she was sure it continued to wrap around. The view from the back must be stunning. The view from the front was nothing but trees and a long, secluded driveway.
It made her feel safe that she couldn’t see the road and no one from the road could see her. At least as safe as she could feel at the moment. She had no doubt she would continue to look over her shoulder until this whole situation was over.
“Do you guys use this cabin a lot?” she asked.
“Parker and I don’t normally, but other agents have. The TBI uses it mostly. The agency has several places like this scattered around. It’s cheaper and safer than using hotel rooms. Although sometimes we use those too. We thought since you apparently like camping and the mountains, we would bring you here.”
She smiled slightly. “That was very thoughtful.”
Again his lips twitched before he turned away and began to stroll toward the cabin. Cheyenne got a strange feeling there was more to it than thoughtfulness. Sometimes she would catch a knowing look passing between him and Parker or a wicked light spark in Grayson’s eyes for a brief second before it disappeared.
Crime & Punishment 3: Theirs to Share Page 2