by Misty Evans
Grabbing his keys from the hook, he shook his head. “You can’t come, Sal. Someone will be by to get you in an hour. You’ll get to hang out at SFI headquarters. Maybe you can fool around with Maggie. She’s a big, beautiful black Lab. You’ll have your paws full with her.”
The dog stuck his nose in the crack of the door, ready to bolt the moment Colton opened it.
“Salisbury,” he said, moving the dog back with his foot. “You can’t come with me. Trust me, buddy, Oklahoma is nowhere you want to be.”
The dog went right back to the door, gluing his nose there.
Cut me some slack, here, dog.
Beatrice was going to check on Paulina and make sure Marcelo had someone to take care of him until more permanent arrangements could be made. She’d even offered to bring Salisbury to the office to hang out with her dog, Maggie.
But the temptation of a warm bed and female companionship didn’t seem to sway the mutt who continued to plaster himself against Colton’s front door.
Shelby’s waiting. “Come on, man. I gotta go. This woman means everything to me. Don’t make me lock you in the bedroom.”
Salisbury just wagged his tail and panted, giving Colton a sad look.
Dammit. He never could say no to sad eyes. “Fine,” he huffed. “You can come.”
The dog jumped straight up into the air, wagging his tail furiously. Two more jumps, both on Colton, and for some stupid reason, the dog’s joy made him smile.
At least I made someone happy tonight.
“Come on,” he said, opening the door. “Let’s go.”
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Twelve hours later
HER LEG WOULDN’T move.
At least not the way Shelby wanted it to.
A lot of things weren’t working the way she wanted. Things like her coordination, her balance.
My brain.
Sweat trickled down her temple as she gripped the walker with both hands and sent another message to her right leg. She had ten feet of Therapy Alley in front of her, and by God, she was going to get down this ugly runway come hell or high water.
Determination screamed through her veins. Everything in her body tightened. Lift…shift…move…
“Rabbit tits!” she yelled. Her damn leg was still in the exact same place.
Heads swung her way, some surprised, others snickering. Her therapist, Alicia, looked up from where she crouched beside Shelby’s uncooperative leg.
“Rabbit tits, huh?” Alicia gripped Shelby’s ankle and moved her foot into the right spot. “That’s a new one.”
“I meant…” Donkey balls, but she couldn’t form the words. They were right there in her head, but somewhere between her injured brain and her mouth, what came out was…”Cotton dicks.”
Cotton dicks? Well, at least dicks and balls were in the same general vicinity, anatomically speaking.
Alicia started laughing and Shelby finally joined in, because, really, if she didn’t laugh, she’d cry.
“Colton would like that one,” she mused, wiping sweat from her temple. “And it’s rude of you to laugh at me.”
Alicia nodded, still grinning. “Completely unprofessional of me, but you have to admit, your colorful expressions are the most entertaining thing about my day.”
The rest of the patients and their therapists went back to working on their own rehab. Shelby watched, trying not to feel sorry for herself as the nine feet of carpeted track stared back at her. She had all four limbs—even if one of them still wasn’t working at 100%—and she could see, eat, and function almost normally. Some of the others in Premiere Physical Therapy couldn’t.
“Glad I can be of service.” Pushing the walker forward, she took a step with her left leg. At least she had one that cooperated. “But man, this was so much easier yesterday.”
Alicia stood, analyzing Shelby’s stance. “This isn’t unexpected. You’ve made amazing progress in the past few days alone, and will continue to gain more control over your gross motor skills as time heals you. Those cognitive puppies in your brain will straighten out as well. But some days, it’s going to be one step forward and two back. Literally.”
No. There’s no going back. “Can I get an extra session in the hydro tank again today? That might help.”
“One session a day,” Alicia reprimanded. “You know the rules. If you push too hard, which may be your problem right now, you’ll only set your progress back.”
Alicia’s reprimand was spot on and Shelby knew it. She’d insisted on having two therapy sessions yesterday, and it had left her body overly tired. When her body couldn’t keep up with her will and determination, she ended up more than a little frustrated.
Which led to her brain fritzing out and things like rabbit tits and cotton dicks coming out of her mouth.
Rabbit tits and cotton dicks. You’re a poet and don’t even know it—she could hear Colton’s voice now, mocking her. He’d be laughing so hard at her outbursts, he’d probably be rolling on the floor.
God, she’d give anything to see his cocky grin.
To see him period.
It was damn frustrating when her mind was filled with things she needed to do and people she had to talk to and her body wouldn’t play ball.
Her right foot was a boat anchor. Until she could walk the ten feet of Therapy Alley, her doctors wouldn’t release her. She wanted to smack something.
Use that anger.
Tighten, shift, mooove…
Her leg slid, anchor that it was, a whopping inch. That was it.
God, defeat sucked.
“I can’t,” she said, closing her eyes. Sweat rolled down her left ear and she wiped it away. “Lift it, I mean.”
“No worries. Take your time.” Alicia, ever the patient coach, crouched beside her again. “Relax, take a deep breath, and clear your mind. The more relaxed you are, the easier it will be.”
The only easy day was yesterday.
Once again Colton’s voice was inside her head, the SEAL refrain hitting the heart of the truth. She’d had so much energy yesterday. Moving her leg had been a breeze.
Flipping her eyes open, she bitch-slapped the defeat and realized Colton was standing at the end of her carpeted runway. “Come on, sugar. You can do it.”
“Colton?” she blinked and he disappeared.
A heavy sigh rushed through her lips and she wanted to sink down right there on the floor. Her brain had been hallucinating off and on since she’d opened her eyes six weeks ago. At first, she’d blamed it on her blurry vision, but as her eyesight cleared, she continued to see him.
Alicia’s gaze went to the spot where Shelby was staring. “Pretend he’s there, Shelby. Pretend he’s holding your favorite dessert in his hands. All you have to do is reach him.”
Alicia knew about Shelby’s hallucinations. She was one of the few, in fact, who didn’t freak out about them.
Not like Shelby’s parents. Even though the doctors had explained multiple times to her mom and dad about how the brain injury had caused minor damage and many of its effects would fade over time, Jack and Martha feared the worst—their precious, former-Miss-Oklahoma daughter had lost her marbles.
Maybe I have. Any woman who would want Colton Bells back in her life had to be a few fries short of a Happy Meal.
I never claimed to be smart when it came to Colton.
Taking Alicia’s advice, Shelby imagined her ex-husband standing at the end of the walkway, all smirks and smartass comments. He didn’t need to hold a treat for her—although she could really use one of those monster yogurts from the yogurt bar up the street, covered in nuts, fudge, and gummy bears…
Back on track! Reining in her thoughts, she geared up for another try. Colton’s simple presence would be enough of a carrot, if only he was there.
“There’s my girl!”
Her father’s booming voice carried across the room, and Shelby had to force herself not to cringe. Once again, she was the center of attention.
That�
��s what happened when your father was a former pro-football player-turned-TV evangelist who regularly got millions of hits on his YouTube Channel and had more Instagram followers than Rihanna.
“Hi, Daddy,” Shelby said as her father stopped at her side. Another man was with him—tall, model-handsome, and dressed in a sharp suit.
Her dad—known to everyone as Reverend Jack—kissed her cheek. “Honey, you remember Theo Ingram, right?”
“He’s my boss, Dad. Of course I remember him.”
Her father looked like he’d won the lottery, just because, yes, she remembered someone from before the brain injury. The memories of her life that she’d lost mostly centered around the day of the accident, but making her parents understand that hadn’t worked so far.
Sure, she still had moments when the right words wouldn’t come or she’d blank a name or face for a few seconds, but honestly, didn’t everyone? Simple slips couldn’t all be blamed on the bullet that had nicked her skull or the fact that when she’d fallen, she’d smacked her head on a concrete step.
Her parents’ concern was justified; they’d been through a terrible scare. Every success—no matter how small—was a huge win in their eyes.
Yet, dammit if she wasn’t sick and tired of everyone acting like she was five years old.
Alicia stepped back, one hand discreetly checking her hair as Theo shook Shelby’s hand. Shelby wasn’t sure if Alicia’s smile was for her father or Theo. Probably both. Powerful men tended to bring out the feminine side in women of all ages.
Shelby looked at Theo and nodded. “Checking up on me, sir?”
His million-dollar smile made him even more attractive as he politely kept his eyes behind the dark frames of his glasses off her walker and on her face. “It’s good to see you’re up and about. Reverend Jack says you’re doing better every day. Everyone at the office is asking about you, so I thought I’d stop by so I can give them a report.”
Underneath the charm and megawatt smiles, Shelby knew the real reason Theo had stopped by. He wanted to check her memory of that day. He wasn’t the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Tulsa office because he was a nice guy. He was the ASAC because he got the job done.
After the fiasco with 12 September—a terrorist group she and Colton had taken on to rescue a friend of theirs—she’d been shipped back to Oklahoma. Since her superiors in Washington were a bit upset with her after Colton had ruined the FBI part of the mission to capture the leader, Iman Quan, she’d been lucky to land in Theo’s group.
With her skills at reading people, she’d been a huge asset at interrogations. She was a natural when it came to the science of people, reading micro expressions to figure out who was lying and why.
Then something had changed after she’d uncovered a connection between several veterans who’d been assassinated in close succession. Theo had assigned her to a small, mostly-unknown hidey-hole of agents working very specific, sensitive cases involving military veterans.
Welcome home. She’d ended up back in Good Hope, working a serial murder case.
Making sure her legs were balanced, she took one hand off the walker and pointed at the folder Theo had under his arm. The man who’d shot her was still on the loose. “Mug shots?”
His smile faded. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
“You can use my office,” Alicia volunteered a little too quickly.
“How gracious of you.” Another Theo megawatter, this time at Alicia, and Shelby thought her physical therapist might melt through the floor. “We only need a few minutes, and then I’ll give Shelby back to you.”
Alicia practically giggled. “It’s not a problem. I’ll show you the way.”
Shelby’s father kissed her cheek. “Want me to carry you, sweetheart?”
The last thing Shelby wanted was for her dad to carry her in front of all these people, especially the ASAC. “Thanks, Daddy, but I’ll use my chair.”
As Alicia showed Theo out of the gym, Jack grabbed the electric wheelchair and helped Shelby into it. “I’ve created a whole month of sermons on miracles, Shel. I’ll be taping the first this weekend for my Revival subscribers. I’d like for you to be there.”
“You know I love being paraded in front of your flock and used as a prop for your sermons.”
“Really? You’ll do it?”
Was he serious? “We talked about this. You can’t discuss what happened to me—it’s an ongoing case and the shooter is still out there. Plus, I don’t want you making my job with the Bureau national news. No one needs to know outside of our family. It could ruin my work.”
“You’d be perfectly safe at the church,” her father said, lowering his voice as he wheeled her along, refusing to let her do it herself. “And you can’t honestly think you’re going back to work for the FBI, do you?”
Shelby whirled in her chair to look up at him. “Of course, I am.”
He sighed dramatically as he pushed her through the open door into Alicia’s office lined with windows so Alicia could keep an eye on all the patients and physical therapists in the rehab area. On the walls hung her various degrees, along with pictures of all of her rich and famous clientele. Football players, track stars, actors; they came here to receive star treatment while recuperating from debilitating injuries in secret. After all, who would come to Oklahoma if they wanted to actually be seen?
This was her dad’s kind of place, which was probably one of the reasons he’d insisted on the 18-bed Premiere Physical Therapy Clinic for Shelby’s recovery, once she came out of her coma. Three chef-created meals a day, around-the-clock nurses and therapists, and interior design straight out of Elle Decor magazine.
Nothing but the best for his little girl.
Except, she wasn’t little anymore, and she hated all this extravagance. She wanted to go home, be in her own house, and do what most people did—go to therapy once or twice a week.
Unfortunately, she could barely walk, much less drive. She certainly wasn’t able to live on her own yet—her place wasn’t equipped for a wheelchair by any stretch of the imagination. Plus, with the killer still running loose, she’d need round-the-clock bodyguards. The thought made her shudder.
“I’ll see you later, honey.” Her dad tousled her hair like she was a toddler instead of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. “I hope you’ll reconsider doing the show with me. You can at least come for the taping. Daniel will be there.”
When pigs fly. Especially if Daniel Mitchum was there.
The junior pastor was a little too happy whenever Shelby was around, and her mother had already dropped multiple hints about how much it would mean to them if Shelby married a preacher. Daniel, who taught at the Bible College and assisted her father with his flock, was a win-win in their book.
“Bye, Dad.”
Alicia gave Shelby and Theo a small wave and closed the door behind her as she walked Shelby’s dad out.
Theo, thankfully, dispensed with his charm and got right down to business, setting the folder on the desk and leaning on the edge. He crossed his feet at the ankles and made a big deal out of cleaning his glasses. “I’m sorry to interrupt your therapy, but it is good to see you up and walking.”
“I’m getting stronger every day.
In the past three months, his crow’s feet had deepened. There were a few strands of grey in his dark hair. “Have you remembered anything from the night of the shooting?”
“I would have called you if I had. I don’t think I saw the shooter, if that’s what you want to know. If I did, I can’t remember him.” Curiosity ate at her. “What’s in the file?”
His face was inscrutable. “This is the case you were working on when you were shot. Thought maybe you should take a look at it and see if anything jumps out at you.”
“Do you have any leads on the gunman?”
There were seven emotions that showed on the face unilaterally across age, sex, race, and culture. They consisted of anger, fear, sadness, disgust, contempt, surprise,
and happiness. When someone attempted to conceal his or her emotions, “leakage” of their true emotions was usually evident on their face.
A firming of the lips suggested Theo felt disgust. “We assume from the angle and distance, your shooter was a professional. Military trained.”
Shelby had already stewed about that and had strong doubts. “Why didn’t he kill me then? He certainly had the skill necessary.”
“Maybe you weren’t his target.”
His gaze shifted to a commotion out in the gym. His face blanched at whatever he saw through the glass window. Fear. “We need to get you to your room. Now.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the suspects in your case file just walked through the door.”
Shelby swiveled in her wheelchair to follow his line of sight. Her breath caught.
She cranked farther in the seat, telling herself not to blink as she stared at a man in holey jeans and scuffed boots holding a dog in his arms that looked as ragged as he did. “Oh my God, tell me he’s real.”
“Real?” Theo sounded as perplexed as Shelby felt. “Of course, he’s real.”
There, looking as hell-on-wheels sexy as ever, stood the man who dominated her hallucinations as well as her dreams.
Chapter Two
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SALISBURY WIGGLED IN Colton’s arms, wanting down. At least a dozen people were in the gym using parallel bars, training stairs, weights, pulleys, and stationary bikes.
Several women near the door looked him and Sal over and smiled. A large, black therapist frowned and started heading toward him. A female therapist on his right, with a buzz cut and biceps the size of Colton’s thighs, said, “Hey, man, didn’t you see the sign?”
“Um, what?” He didn’t have time for this. He’d snuck in the side door with an older woman visiting her husband, and had already spent twenty minutes in the fancy living section of the place trying to track down Shelby. “Can you tell me if there’s a petite blonde in here with big blue eyes and a bigass attitude?”