by Becky McGraw
“A little trouble breathing, but it’s better than it was,” Trace replied.
“How’d you get stabbed?” he asked, continuing to work.
“Kitchen accident?” Trace replied smartly.
One side of Ethan’s full lips kicked up. “Those kitchen accidents are the worst. Shouldn’t run with sharp knives you know.”
“Now you tell me,” Trace hissed when he pushed in on one side of the cut.
Ethan took his vitals, then felt along his skull and neck. “Any dizziness, confusion, neck or back pain?”
“No. I didn’t fall, or get hit in the head. Just stabbed in the side.”
“Okay, Jenny is inside and can check you out in our sick bay. She’ll stitch you up.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Joel, slide that backboard in here will you?”
Joel shoved the end toward Ethan and he grabbed and pulled it all the way inside. Ronnie scooted to the back of the van to give him room to work. “This is gonna hurt big guy,” Ethan said as he positioned the backboard along Trace’s side. “Grit your teeth,” he said as he crossed Trace’s arms over his chest. “I’m going to roll you on your side, so I can slide this under you.”
“I can fucking walk,” Trace grumbled as he tried to sit up again.
Ethan shoved his shoulders back down. “I’d suggest you cooperate or I’m going to get my wife in here to deal with you. Trust me, you don’t want that,” Ethan said with a laugh. Trace heard a woman’s indignant gasp and Ethan chuckled again. “You know I love you, Roxanne,” he said over his shoulder as he rolled Trace.
Pain shot across his chest in a white bolt of agony and Trace couldn’t help but moan. Cold, hard plastic touched his back as Ethan eased him onto his back again. The man leaned over him and strapped his shoulders to the board, before repeating the process at his knees. His side throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Trace sure wished this guy could give him a shot or something for pain. Blackness closed in on him, and he didn’t want to pass out again so he fought it. Ethan turned the backboard and took hold of handles on the bottom, then backed out of the van tugging the board with him.
The bright lights from the porch backlit a beautiful blonde woman. The lights made her look like an angel, and he thought maybe he was slipping away after all. She smiled at him and her kind eyes were comforting. Trace sighed and closed his eyes. If he had to go, that wasn’t a bad sight to see last.
The only thing better would have been if the angel had red hair and amber eyes.
“Just lay the bed flat and put the board on it,” Terri directed as she ran around the medical shack gathering supplies to help Trace. Ronnie stood against the far wall watching her and Jenny work. Ethan sat the big medical kit beside the table then unclipped the straps across Trace’s chest and slid them to the sides.
“Let’s roll him and I’ll pull the board out,” he said looking at Jenny.
She took Trace’s shoulders and head, and Terri got at his feet and they rolled him. Ethan jerked the board out from under him and the women laid him back on the table. Jenny cut the rest of his shirt off and Terri pulled the pieces away. “We’re going to have to lay him on his right side, so I can sew him up. But let me check his lungs first,” she said putting her stethoscope against his side to listen intently.
The way these three worked together, Ronnie could almost imagine that they were in a hospital emergency room. In the small building, they danced around each other seeming to take every step without thinking. Trace was lucky to have them helping him.
Jenny listened intently, then her blue eyes narrowed. “It sounds like the knife might’ve pierced his lung,” she said with concern in her voice.
“That’s what I thought too,” Ethan said, then moved the backboard to lean it against the wall beside Ronnie. “But I don’t think it’s filled,” he added with a glance at Ronnie.
That was good right? Not filled must be good? Or maybe he meant it wasn’t filled with air? That wouldn’t be so good. Fear shot through Ronnie.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Ronnie asked.
The tremble in her voice surprised her. Trace Rooks wasn’t her husband, he wasn’t even her boyfriend. But the way she felt right now seeing him lying on that table, hearing what they said sure made her feel that way.
The man had been through enough already. Half of what he’d been through was because of her. He couldn’t die yet. She had a lot to make up to him. If he died, she wasn’t going to have the chance to do that. Ronnie wasn’t going to let him die. If that took taking him to the hospital, that’s what they would do. She would just help him deal with the ramifications. “Does he need surgery?” Ronnie asked.
Jenny looked over at her. “I don’t think so. He’s lost a good bit of blood, and could probably use a pint, but the knife just pierced his lung. It should heal on its own once we suture him up,” She looked at Joel’s wife. “Terri can you get me a suture kit?” she asked then looked at Terri’s brother. “Ethan can you help me debride and clean the wound?”
“Sure,” he said and they went to work preparing the area for stitches.
“Does he need blood?” Ronnie asked grabbing her arm. She hated giving blood, but would do it to save Trace. “I’m type O positive, so I can give him some. Isn’t that universal?” When she gave at the last blood drive, that’s what she’d been told.
“Yeah, he could probably use some, but we don’t have anything to collect it with,” Jenny replied without looking up. “And I don’t know what type he is. Since you’re positive Rh, that could cause problems if he’s negative. I’d rather be conservative. I don’t think he lost enough blood volume to be critical,” Jenny informed. She looked up and met Ronnie’s eyes. “Thanks for offering though. You did a good job keeping his bleeding under control, by the way.”
Ronnie laughed. “That’s about the only thing I remembered from the first aid class I took in high school.”
Jenny and Ethan rolled Trace to his uninjured side, draped paper around the wound and taped it in place. When Jenny picked up a syringe of medicine and started poking around in the wound, evidently anesthetizing the area, the whole room moved in front of Ronnie’s eyes. Cold sweat formed on her forehead, and she knew it was time for her to get out of there. Her stomach seesawed and she said, “Um, I’ll just wait outside.”
Stumbling outside, she ran into Dave at the door. “Whoa, you okay? Your face is white as a sheet,” he said with concern.
“I’m fine, just worried about Trace.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her down the steps and they stood at the porch railing in the light. “Thank you for all you did out there tonight,” she said.
“I’m glad I got involved,” Dave said. “Trace Rooks is tough, but if he went out there alone, it wouldn’t have ended well.”
“It still might not end well,” Ronnie said and her chin dropped to her chest. She still wasn’t convinced that Trace wouldn’t die. And if one of those women they rescued tonight died at the lodge, they would have a lot of explaining to do. “Trace isn’t out of the woods, and those women didn’t look to be in good shape either. If one of them dies at the lodge, we’ll have more trouble than we can shake a stick at.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Dave said, with a squeeze to her shoulders. “Don’t borrow trouble, sugar.”
“Easily said. So much could happen. I don’t want Trace to go back to jail. One of those men you shot tonight could die. You could be in hot water too.”
“Don’t worry about me, or Rooks. He’ll pull through this and I know you’ll make sure neither one of us goes back to jail.”
“Things keep getting more and more complicated by the minute. Who the hell knows I might wind up in jail before this is over too,” Ronnie said with a shake of her head.
It was the truth. She was just as involved in what happened out there tonight, as the rest of them were. Two men were probably dead out there in that field. Another one had been injured by her. Now they were basic
ally holding the surviving Coyotes hostage at the cabin. Conner could be dragged into the mess too, if the feds raided the lodge and found them there. And his family would too. She couldn’t let that happen.
“What are we going to do with those men you brought to the lodge?”
“Those men know who sent them out there to pick up those women tonight. They’re going to tell us who did that and if it was Mr. Ray Brown they’re going to tell us where we can find him. Caleb and Jamie are interrogating them now.”
“What then?”
“We go meet Ray Brown, and turn them all over to the police.”
“Won’t they ask questions? Can’t those men identify us?”
“Nope. I told Jamie and Caleb to keep their masks on, and I talked to Beau Bowman with the Texas Rangers. Once we’re finished with them, he is going to take them into custody. The Rangers and feds want Ray Brown so badly, they won’t care who caught him. I told Beau I got a tip and was following up on it. I don’t think Ray or those men will mention the women they were trafficking. If they do they’ll just buy themselves more charges.”
In a perfect world, that could work. But right now, Ronnie’s world was far from perfect. Trouble seemed to be following them around every turn. But Ronnie trusted Dave Logan more than she trusted just about anyone. She knew no matter what, Dave would protect them. He wouldn’t let anyone know that Trace was alive, or what she was doing to try and help him. He was one man she’d never want to have to cross-examine on the witness stand. His flat effect and poker face were definitely daunting.
A well-dressed older woman walked up to the medical shack. Once she moved into the porch light, Ronnie recognized it was Allison Rooks and could see she was crying. Beside her was a stone-faced blonde cowgirl holding her arm.
“Watch your step, Mrs. Rooks,” the cowgirl said seeming to hold the woman up.
Allison Rooks sure looked a lot different than the last time Ronnie had seen her at Trace’s sentencing. Even as upset as she obviously was right now, the woman had made changes to her appearance that were nothing short of striking. She was beautiful. Evidently getting away from Leland Rooks had been good for her.
“Ronnie?” Terri said from the doorway of the medical shack and she turned to face the shorter dark-haired nurse.
Terri Rhodes sure didn’t look like a woman who had given birth to a baby just a few weeks ago either. Even though little Jayden was nearly half-grown when he was born, weighing in at a whopping nine and a half pounds, she was already back in her pre-pregnancy clothes and looked fantastic. Her pretty face looked worried to Ronnie though.
She wondered if something had gone wrong with Trace. “Is Trace okay?”
“Trace woke up and he asked for you.”
Allison Rooks wailed, and her knees buckled. The cowgirl caught her before she crumpled to the ground. “He’s going to be fine, Allison,” Terri said walking to the edge of the porch. “You need to calm down, or we’ll be treating you in here too.”
“He’s alive,” she said breathlessly. “He can’t die now.” Allison shook her head and her auburn hair danced at her shoulders.
“He’s not going to die, Mrs. Rooks,” Ronnie assured her walking to her side to take her other arm. “He didn’t call you? He said he was going to.”
“No, I thought he was d-dead, until just a few minutes ago.”
“There’s a chair inside, let’s get you in there so you can sit down.” Before you fall down, Ronnie added mentally. Trace should have called her.
Ronnie and the cowgirl led Mrs. Rooks over to a chair and helped her sit down. Trace moaned on the table as Jenny finished suturing his wound. She stood up to wipe her forehead with the back of her arm. “That should do it.”
“Is he going to be okay, Jenny?” Allison asked in a strangled voice.
“He’s going to be fine. He’s a little weak from blood loss, and I’m sure he’s in pain, but the good news is, I don’t think his lung is punctured. The pain was just affecting his breathing.” Jenny’s eyes traveled to hers and Ronnie nodded.
“Thank, God!” Allison said and her body slumped in the chair. To Ronnie, Allison looked a whole lot less worried than she had a moment before, but then she sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes swung up to Ronnie. “What the hell are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough to him? Is this your fault too ?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Trace heard high heels click across the tile floor, then his mother appeared at the table and took his hand. “I’m mad at you too,” she said. The relieved tears in her eyes contradicted her statement, but dammit, whatever the reason Trace didn’t want to see her crying. He shut his eyes. “I’m sorry for not calling you, Mama.”
That had been on his list, but he hadn’t had time. He should have made time.
“They told me they found your motorcycle crashed and you were probably dead. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?” she said in that tone only a mother could take and make her son feel like shit.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I was going to call you,” he said, swallowing down the knot that formed in his throat.
“But you didn’t,” she accused. “I was actually making funeral arrangements, Trace. For when they found your body.” Her voice rose an octave on each word. Every word was like a nail driven into his heart.
“There’s no excuse, Mama.”
“You’re darned right there’s not, and if you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you.”
Trace’s eyes flew open and latched onto hers. “I’d probably help you.”
“Why did you do that son? Why did you want everyone to think you were dead?”
He huffed out a breath. He might as well tell her the truth. She would hear it soon anyway. If she hadn’t already. “Because the way I left that ranch, if I didn’t do that the feds wouldn’t stop until they found me. I shot an agent, beat another one up, and almost ran over two more. And the man I worked for at that ranch is after me too, because I crossed him. I had to do something.”
“And that was the best you could come up with?” Allison asked him narrowing her eyes. “Faking your death?”
“At the time, yeah. Ronnie was in danger and so was I,” he said.
“Why do you care what the hell happens to her?” his mother asked shortly. “She helped send you to prison.”
“Well, she saved my life tonight. And she’s trying to help me take Leland down now. That’s not going to be an easy job,” Trace said. “You know what he’s capable of.”
“You do too, but you were working for him,” she accused.
“Mom, I can’t tell you everything, but I was at that ranch for a reason.”
“No reason could justify you working there. Working for him.”
“It was the only way I could get out of jail. The feds made me an offer for an early release to help them, and I took it.”
“Why are you letting her help you? How can you trust her? She might be setting you up to send you right back there!”
Trace sighed and glanced at Ronnie who was leaning against the wall on the other side of the room looking worried. He didn’t meet his mother’s eyes, because he couldn’t lie if he did that. “I trust her, Mama. Yeah, she unwittingly helped Leland put me in jail, but she’s trying to fix things. Just give her a chance. If things don’t work out, I’ll just hit the road. But at least when I do, you’ll know I’m not dead this time. I’m sorry for worrying you, but I can’t go back to jail.”
He was surprised he said all that without choking on the words, and he almost sounded convincing to himself. Yes, Ronnie had helped him tonight. Yes, she appeared to be trying to help him take down his father, but he still didn’t trust her. That would take some time. But he was giving her a chance.
That was saying something considering their history.
He felt someone move up behind him. “You are not going back to jail, Trace Rooks! And you’re not taking off,” Ronnie said shortly laying a hand on his shoulder.
Terri wal
ked up beside his mother and put her hand on her arm. “I think ya’ll need to go outside and talk. We’re going to keep an eye on him for a little while to make sure he’s stable.”
Allison looked up and Trace knew she and Ronnie were having a stare off. Trace huffed out a breath and closed his eyes, welcoming the fuzziness that the pain medication Jenny had given him brought. A little rest would be a good thing for him right now. Trace just hoped these two women didn’t kill each other while he was sleeping.
Two hours later Trace woke up and although he felt a little better physically, he felt worse mentally. Evidently the two women had recruited Terri Rhodes to get on his case too. The petite woman was removing the IV from his arm. “You know running isn’t going to solve your problem, Trace. You’ll eventually run out of real estate.”
“Don’t you start on me too,” he said tiredly. He accidentally inhaled too sharply and a pain shot through his sternum.
“I’m just telling you like it is. You need to let your mother and Ronnie help you. Don’t be a stubborn ass, or a coward and just run off. Your mother has been devastated,” Terri said with an edge to her tone, as she placed a cotton ball in the crook of his arm and covered it with a Band-aid.
“Can I have something else for pain?” he asked. If she gave him more pain medicine, maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with them at all, or think about it. Sometimes oblivion was a good thing, and drugs had their purpose.
“No, it will repress your breathing. I’ll give you ibuprofen.”
Ibuprofen and a Band-aid? That was the best they could do when a man got stabbed? They’d probably break out blow-pops if he’d been shot. “I need a shot for pain. What you gave me is wearing off.”
“Well, you’re not getting another one,” Terri said firmly. “You can put on your big boy drawers and deal with it. You’re not going to die. I just gave birth to a ten pound baby. Don’t think you’re gonna get any sympathy from me. Be thankful he stuck it in your side instead of slicing your throat.”
“You’re a mean woman, Terri Rhodes.”