Her Undercover Defender

by Debra Webb

  He stood, moving behind her. His hands were warm on her neck, and she sighed as he started massaging the tension out of her shoulders. “Just a little TLC and I’ll see you home.”

  “I drove,” she reminded him.

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman.”

  She groaned. It made her feel even worse about telling him what her brother had said. She should’ve seen the jealousy behind Trey’s wild claims. “I’m capable of making it home on my own.”

  “Of course you are,” he said. “You’re one of the most capable women I know. But—”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t be a gentleman.”

  “Exactly.” She felt his lips replace his hands, and a delicious tremor of anticipation slid down her spine. The man could make her burn for him with the smallest attention. She really wanted to give in to that attention.

  His warm breath feathered over her ear as he trailed kisses over the sensitive skin on her neck. “David.”

  “Right here.”

  She tried to get a grip on her thoughts. “I should do the dishes.”

  “I might let you. In a minute.” His hands slid down her arms and back up again. “Come here.”

  A puppet would have more self-control, she thought, responding to his clever touches as he urged her up and out of the chair.

  He pulled her flush against his warm, wide chest and kissed her until thoughts of brothers, dishes and deal breakers were history. She ran her hands over his shoulders, gasping as he boosted her up to sit on the countertop. He spread her knees wide and leaned in for a searing kiss.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing their bodies together. Heat and desire sparked between them, around them. She’d had crazy thoughts all day long that last night had been too good—a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He was blowing holes in that theory right now.

  When he cupped her breasts in his hands, she pressed into the hot touch, needing more. Tugging the hem of his shirt free from his jeans, she slid her hands up along the enticing angles and planes of his hot, firm muscles.

  “Oh, David,” she whispered, her head falling back as he yanked her scrub top up and away. No dessert? Who was she kidding? She was offering herself like a sundae with a cherry on top. “Do you have any whipped cream?” she heard herself ask. They were in the kitchen after all. This time she could blame the wine, though she’d only had one glass.

  “I’ll stock up for tomorrow,” he promised, his mouth closing over her breast through the thin fabric of her camisole.

  She combed her fingers through his thick, wavy hair, holding him close. She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky to be with him, but she knew she didn’t want it to end anytime soon—to hell with her brother’s false worries.

  She shifted, bringing his mouth back to hers. This want, this desperate need, was so new. She wanted to feel him deep inside her again when his body went tight as a bowstring. “David,” she whispered against his lips, reaching for his fly. “I need—”

  The shrill sound of her phone cut through the sensual fog.

  “Ignore it,” he suggested, laying claim to her mouth and sweeping his hot tongue across hers.

  She pushed him back a fraction of an inch. Barely room to breathe. “I can’t. It’s the ringtone I set for the hospital.”

  He swore, and she agreed wholeheartedly as she fished her phone out of her purse. “Hello?”

  “Terri.”

  Not the hospital. Her brother. What the hell? The interruption worked better than the coldest shower. “What?”

  “You’ve got to come home.” He sounded upset. “Now. I need...”

  “What is it, Trey?” She was done with his theatrics. “When did you change my ringtone?”

  “Now, Terri. I’m hurt. They shot me.”

  “Who?” Hearing the pain in his voice, she hopped off the counter. Questions could wait until she got there. “I’m on my way.”

  David caught her attention and rolled his eyes. She ignored him. They would work out their issues later.

  “Alone, right?” Trey asked.

  “Why?” Suddenly suspicious, she walked to David’s front window, looking for any sign of her brother. “Is this another wild stunt?”

  “No! I just don’t need an audience.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Hurry, Terri,” Trey said with a grunt. “There’s a lot of blood.”

  She ended the call and slipped her scrub top back on. “I’m sorry,” she said to David. “He’s hurt.”

  “How bad?”

  “I won’t know until I get there, will I? He says there’s a lot of blood.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No.” She planted her palm on his chest. “I’ve got this.”

  “Terri...”

  “Capable, remember?”

  “Yeah,” he grumbled.

  “I’ll text you,” she said as she raced out his front door, wondering what in the world her brother had done now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Terri pulled into the driveway, urging the garage door to move faster. Trey had sounded so desperate and afraid on the phone. She tried to hold back the memories and failed. Her heart pounded and the blood rushed through her head as she remembered those first hours and days after the accident. She pushed it aside. This wasn’t the time for fainting.

  Trey had been fragile then. Critically injured. He was whole and healthy now. Keys in hand, she took a deep breath and forced herself to slow down as she walked into the house.

  Trey might be in a strange emotional place, but he was fit and strong again. His clinginess was most likely about wanting to be the center of her world. She couldn’t fault him for the expectation—she’d put her brother and his needs first from the moment they lost their parents.

  “Trey?” She hooked her key ring on the rack by the door.

  “Over here!” Trey’s voice was tight and thready.

  Terri’s determination to remain calm wavered as she spotted him on the floor of the family room. She quashed the urge to assume a worst-case situation. The wound could be less serious than Trey’s pained voice indicated.

  The blood soaking through his shirt, smearing his hands, told a different story. “What happened?” she demanded, relying on her training as she began assessing his condition.

  “They found me.”

  “Who did?” She helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “The team,” he said. “I—I went out for the mail. They were waiting. Down the block.”

  She grabbed a kitchen chair and settled him near the sink. “Keep talking.”

  “The car rolled to a stop. Between me and the house,” he said. “This guy got out. Joe.”

  “Joe?”

  “I don’t know his last name. Everyone at Rediscover called him Joe.”

  “Hold that thought.” She looked at his eyes, pleased that he appeared steady. “I’m grabbing the first-aid kit,” she explained. “Don’t move.” She hurried away, pausing to grab her cell phone, as well as the supplies from under the sink in the powder room.

  “Do I need stitches?” he asked when she returned.

  “I’m about to find out,” she replied. She moved his hand and snapped a quick picture of the bloodstained shirt. With scissors she cut away his sleeve, letting it drop to the floor. She wet a towel and let him wipe the blood from his hands. Soaking another towel in cool water, she started cleaning his wound. “If the bullet’s inside you’ll need to go to a hospital.” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to be seen at her hospital.

  “It went straight through.” Trey shifted in the chair. “I can’t go to the hospital.”

  “Why not?”

  “They have to report gunshot wounds.”

  True. And she’d seen her share during her shifts in the ER. “Is there some reason you don’t want Joe to be found and arrested?”

  “Well, yeah. If he’s arrested, more people from the team will show up. They want me to go ba
ck, Terri. I can’t do that.”

  “I thought you loved your new job and the opportunities.”

  “I lied,” he said, his face crumpling. “I won’t go back. My place is here. With you.”

  That sounded like an afterthought. He’d used that scared teenager voice again, but she wasn’t convinced. “No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, least of all take you out of the state against your will. You’re an adult.” She wanted to ask why he’d claimed his team had been such a healing experience, only to paint them as violent now. Instead, she dealt with the immediate problem.

  She examined the entry wound on the front of his arm, noting the discoloration. She wasn’t a forensic expert, but it seemed Joe had shot Trey at a very close range. Gently, she prodded his arm just enough to confirm there was a clean exit wound. “You were right. Feels like the bullet went straight through.”

  “Good.”

  She didn’t trust herself to agree with his opinion. Something was wrong with the angle. “Did you fight with him in the street?”

  She wanted an answer that would dispel the ugly suspicions that were quickly becoming theories in her mind. It was his left arm. Trey was right-handed. The bullet, small caliber, had entered just above the midpoint of his biceps and traveled straight through. It was all a little too clean.

  “He got out of the car and we argued. He pulled out a big-ass handgun and tried to grab me and shove me into the car, but I jerked away. That’s when he fired.”

  Her heart broke, wondering if it was all lies. “You need stitches,” she said, trying to sort it out.

  “Go ahead,” Trey said. “You can do that, right?”

  “Sure, if I had a suture kit. You need a hospital.”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t a big deal. Just wrap it up. Don’t you have glue in there?”

  She knocked his hand away when he started rooting through the first-aid box. “Yes, but—”

  “Use that. I can’t go to the hospital,” he insisted.

  She stood up, her gaze locked with his. “You’re the victim of a crime.” Even if it was likely only a weapon discharged inside city limits. “The team knows where you live. Why does it matter if you report the shooting?”

  “It just does.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” she accused. He’d brought bad people right to their doorstep. Her doorstep, she amended. “I’m proud of you for escaping what is apparently a bad situation. Do the right thing and let the authorities take it from here.”

  “No.” He grabbed her hand in a hard grip. “If I report them, it only gets worse.”

  She didn’t want worse for either of them, but she didn’t have much faith that Trey could effectively avoid armed men. Assuming they existed. In her mind, she heard the echo of David’s warning. Her brother was different. Beyond the physical fitness and golden tan, he’d become a person she didn’t understand. She’d seen paranoid patients, and Trey didn’t quite meet that standard definition, but something was definitely off. If he’d been lying and hiding the reality of the process in Arizona, it could explain his erratic, changeable moods. She just didn’t know what to believe anymore.

  “This will sting,” she warned, preparing to swab the wounds with antiseptic wash. She wasn’t as gentle as she might’ve been and she took a bit too much glee in his shocked gasp. “Told you.”

  “You always do,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Guess that’s true.” She’d often cleaned his scrapes and minor injuries on the days their mom was at work. “Some things don’t change.” But her brother had changed, in big and small ways she struggled to pin down.

  She finished cleaning the wounds and pulled the gaps together with Steri-Strips and medical-grade superglue. While she might feel better if he had stitches, he was clearly opposed to the idea. “What’s really going on, Trey?”

  “I made some mistakes, all right?”

  She bit back the immediate retort about dropping out of the college she’d worked so hard to pay for. “Have those mistakes put me in danger, too?”

  “What?” His face paled and he lurched to his feet, putting the chair between them. “No. They just don’t like it when people leave the program.”

  Obviously, the commune or cult or team Trey had joined was about far more than clean living, meditation and solar panels. Terri scooped up the remainder of his sleeve and folded it into the bloody washcloth and towel. “Following you all the way here seems a bit obsessive.”

  “Would you drop it?”

  She’d been yelled at by patients before. The best response was none at all.

  “Wait.” Trey scrubbed at his face. “I’m sorry.”

  She continued cleaning up, wondering if he had any idea what a real apology was anymore. Moving as if he weren’t even there, she repacked the first-aid kit, mopped up the blood and returned the chair to the table.

  “Terri.”

  “Yes?” She paused to admire the flowers and flip through the mail.

  “Thanks for cleaning me up.”

  “Sure.”

  “Come on!” His mood swung back to volatile, and he slammed a fist onto the counter. “You’re worried about nothing. I handled it.”

  With her lips clamped together to restrain the lecture she wanted to deliver, she turned slowly to face him again. “Good. You’ll want to keep that dry and rest your arm.”

  “You don’t trust me,” he stated.

  “You’re not giving me much reason to trust you.” She pointed to the wounded arm. “I have no idea why you shot yourself, but you’re damn lucky you didn’t nick your brachial artery. You might’ve bled out before I got home.”

  “Shot myself?” he protested. “As if you’d care about anything more than the mess I’d leave behind.”

  Her hand fisted around the envelope she held, and it took all her self-control to keep that hand to herself. She wanted to slap him, to demand the truth. One honest answer could start rebuilding her trust.

  Instead, she reached for her purse. She wouldn’t stay here tonight. She couldn’t. Arguing with her brother in this kitchen, bickering like children cast a pall over the house. The loving memories twisted into silent accusations as she realized her good intentions throughout his recovery had turned into something ugly and unhealthy. She didn’t know how to fix it. She wasn’t even sure it was hers to fix.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I can’t stay here.”

  “I’ll leave.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She had to get out of this house. “That won’t help. I need... I can’t...” She swallowed. “I want you to be happy.”

  “Wait—”

  Her cell phone rang, interrupting him. Thank God. She didn’t want to hear more lies or excuses. She didn’t know her brother anymore. The accident and grief had changed them both. Possibly beyond reconciliation. “It’s the hospital,” she said, checking the display before she answered. “This is Terri Barnhart.”

  “There’s a crisis on the research ward,” Franklin said, pain lancing his voice. “We need you immediately.”

  “I’m on my way.” She left without a backward glance for her brother.

  * * *

  FROM HIS SURVEILLANCE position at the corner of the block, David watched Terri’s car back out of the garage. Trey’s motorcycle was still parked on the far side of the driveway. It irritated him how one call from her brother had put her on edge and amped up her frustration just when he’d managed to get her to relax. Confused, lost or discovering himself, Trey was someone David didn’t trust. Too many answers didn’t fit the big picture.

  He told himself it was because Trey nearly outed him with those bugs, but he wouldn’t have been posted here with orders to keep Terri in his sights if there hadn’t been a threat to begin with. David had barely cleared the driveway when Trey’s motorcycle roared to life and he left a trail of rubber in the opposite direction. Good.

  On a frustrated sigh, David called Tre
y’s movements in to Casey’s office. Before he could utter more than his name, Casey was on the line.

  “Are you at the hospital?”

  “No. I—”

  “Get there. Dr. Palmer’s sent an alert to his team about a problem with the patient.”

  That had to be what prompted Terri to leave the house so suddenly. She was too tenacious to give in or give up on an argument with her brother that quickly.

  Casey said, “I have backup aimed your way, but they won’t move without your signal.”

  “Excellent.” It was a relief to know the best agents in the business were watching his back. “I’ll call when I have something to report.”

  “I don’t have to remind you how critical Palmer’s advancements are. Protect the project at all costs.”

  “Yes, sir.” David ended the call, hoping he wouldn’t have to make a hard choice between Terri and the technology. Putting her second didn’t feel right, despite his instincts to follow direct orders.

  It didn’t take him long to catch up with Terri. He kept driving when she turned into the employee parking area. Circling through the hospital campus, he looked for anyone or anything out of place. He cleared the immediate and obvious areas and parked in one of the reserved spaces near the front door. At this time of night he wasn’t inconveniencing anyone.

  The guard at the front desk disagreed. “You have to move that car, sir.”

  “Hey there,” he said, flashing a smile along with his credentials. “A friend of mine called because of a scuffle on five.” He came around to check the security cameras.

  “No one told us about a problem,” the guard replied. “You can’t be back here.”

  “Only for a minute,” David countered. “If you don’t tell, I won’t.”

  “Is this some kind of test?”

  “Not at all. I’ll be out of your hair in just a minute.” He ignored the guard’s opinion of his response as he watched the cameras covering Dr. Palmer’s ward. “What’s the latest access time on this ward?” He pointed.

  The security guard grumbled as he double-checked the information. “I’m showing card swipes for Dr. Palmer and his nurse about two hours ago.”

  “Pull that up,” he demanded. “Get me the visuals.” The timing was impossible. Terri had been with him then. “Which nurse?”