by Barb Han
Blood poured down Nick’s shirt as he cuffed the snake.
Shock overtook Nick as he realized the blood was his.
Once Jamison was secure, Nick folded over to the sounds of officers rushing downstairs. The one who’d breeched the building with him stood over Jamison, his gun aimed at his temple, as Nick rolled over onto his side, fighting the nausea and fatigue gripping him.
Damn.
He was shot? He immediately thought of Sadie. She was safe now.
The next thing he knew, she was over him, tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks.
“Stay with me, Nick,” she begged. The desperation in her voice was palpable. Almost enough to force him to come back to her.
She was safe.
What about Lucy?
As the scene in front of him played out in slow motion, he watched officers handcuff the dirtbags. One of them moved to Nick’s side and held his cell phone to his ear. “Someone wants to speak to you.”
“Nick? It’s Lucy. I’m okay.”
Relief flooded him. Sadie was safe. Lucy was okay. Nothing else mattered.
All he wanted to do was close his eyes and go to sleep.
Sadie’s voice became distant. Her pleas for him to stay awake faded.
Nick closed his eyes and allowed darkness to claim him.
* * *
NICK WOKE WITH a start.
He glanced around the stark white room. His vision was blurry. Where was he?
He tried to push up, unwilling to admit the fear creeping through his system, its icy tendrils closing around his heart.
The case was closed, and he’d most likely never see Sadie again. The thought caused worse pain than the bullet hole in his shoulder. A few stitches, a little physical therapy, and he’d eventually heal from that. Being without Sadie for the rest of his life put a hollow ache in his chest he’d never recover from.
“Nick?” the voice sounded uncertain and afraid.
Sadie?
He forced his eyes to stay open through the burn and glanced around the room. She was already to the side of the bed before his eyes could focus properly.
“How do you feel?” she asked, reaching out to touch his face.
The sight of her quieted his worst fear—the fear he’d never look into those beautiful eyes again and tell her just how much she meant to him.
“Dizzy. Nauseous.” Relieved.
“You lost a lot of blood when you were shot,” she said. “You must be in pain. Let me call the nurse.”
Of course, he just realized, he was in the hospital. But he didn’t want the nurse. He had everything he needed right next to him. Sadie.
He covered her hand with his, preventing her from pushing the call button. The whole scenario came back to him in a flood. The warehouse. Grimes. Jamison. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.”
“You’ve been here the whole time?”
Her cheeks flushed as she nodded. “Luke sneaks Boomer in every chance he gets.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Grimes is dead. Jamison shot you. They arrested him, and he’s going away for a very long time. So are the others in the warehouse. A few more of his men were arrested at Fair Park.”
“And Lucy?”
“She’s fine. Calls every hour to check on you, though.” Her smile warmed his insides.
“And Meg?”
“She had a little boy.”
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and touching her beautiful face. “You’ve been keeping track of everyone?”
“I knew you’d want to know as soon as you woke up.”
“How’s Boomer?”
“He’s keeping Gran company at the ranch. She texts me pictures of him every hour.” She laughed.
“I remember what you did in the warehouse. I’m proud of you.” His chest filled with an emotion that felt a hell of a lot like pride.
She leaned into his palm, and then kissed his hand.
“You been here the whole time?”
She nodded. “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
He couldn’t believe the love of his life was sitting right there. It would be better if they were somewhere else besides the hospital for what he needed to say. He wished they were somewhere romantic. He needed to ask her something, and he wanted everything to be perfect.
He canceled the thought.
Fact was there would never be a better time than now. “I need you to know that I’ve fallen hard for you.”
He was rewarded with a bright smile. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kept her close when he whispered, “I love you.”
She kissed him again, with more enthusiasm this time.
“I love you, Nick Campbell.”
This time, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to let Sadie walk out that door without knowing exactly what she meant to him. He had no intention of repeating his past mistakes.
He knew what he wanted for the rest of his life, and he wanted Sadie.
“I’d prefer to do this on one knee, but I’m guessing that would cause a whole host of people to come rushing through that door...”
She gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I don’t have a ring to offer you right now. But I sincerely pray my heart and the promise of forever will be enough. Sadie Brooks, will you marry me?”
The minute she took to answer felt like an eternity.
She nodded through her tears. “Yes. I will marry you, Nick Campbell. I want very much to be your wife.”
“And I want to be your protector for the rest of our days.”
* * * * *
Barb Han’s THE CAMPBELLS OF CREEK BEND continues next month with GUT INSTINCT.
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Chapter One
He’d wondered what this night would be like, and now he knew. Rick Cloud smiled as he looked around the private dining room his foster brothers and their wives had reserved for his homecoming. For years the Brickhouse Tavern had been one of their favorite watering holes, so it had been the perfect place for the celebration.
Gene Redhouse, the only rancher among the six Navajo men, came up and patted him on the back. “Welcome home,” he said, then laughed as he saw their brothers Kyle Goodluck and Daniel Hawk clear away part of the heavy trestle table so they could arm wrestle. “They’re at it again.”
“Some things never change.” Rick’s eyes strayed to the pretty hostess as she moved around the room, making sure everyone’s glasses were filled and watching over them like a beautiful guardian angel. She was tall and slender, with shoulder-length honey-colored blond hair and beautiful green eyes that didn’t seem to miss even the tiniest of details. As he watched, she took away an empty dish of guacamole and replaced it with spicy salsa and blue corn tortilla chips.
“That’s Kim Nelson. Do you remember her from high school?”
“I never met her. If I had,
I would have remembered,” Rick said without hesitation.
“She was a freshman when you were a senior,” Gene said. “To hear her talk when we were discussing the plans for tonight, I think she used to have a thing for you. Kyle says it’s because you were quarterback, but I fail to see the reasoning. You hand off or throw the ball, take some hits and run the option once in a while. Barely got your jersey dirty most games.”
“Jealous, bro?” Rick said, and laughed.
“Nah. I’m the one who ended up with the prize,” he said, looking across the room at the pretty brunette watching the match. “Lori’s the perfect wife for a cowboy like me.”
“You were born to be a rancher,” Rick said. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
As Gene went back to join his wife, Rick found he couldn’t take his eyes off Kim. Even the way she moved caught his attention. The woman possessed a presence; a dynamic combo of grace and confidence that kept him searching the dining room for her.
Finally he forced himself to look away. He didn’t need this now. Though he’d never been the ladies’ man his brothers thought him to be, he’d never had trouble finding company. Now that his face was marked by a scar that ran across his nose and cheek, a leftover from a deadly knife fight, things would undoubtedly be different.
As Kim worked the room, smiling but definitely staying in the background, he noted the way she’d sometimes glance in his direction. He was about to seek her out when she came over.
“You’re the guest of honor tonight, Mr. Cloud. Is there anything special I can get for you?”
“No, I’m good, thanks,” he said. She had spectacular green eyes that stayed on his, never shifting for a quick look at his scar. Kim couldn’t have missed it, yet she still focused on him.
“I’m Kim, the events coordinator here at the Brickhouse.”
He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. And call me Rick.”
“Your brothers wanted to make sure every detail of your homecoming was perfect, Rick. That’s one of the reasons I stayed to handle things personally. The other, I’ve got to admit, is because I was curious to see you again. I knew who you were back in high school, but I don’t think you ever noticed me,” she said with a little smile.
“Definitely my loss.”
She smiled. “When Preston Bowman came to book the restaurant for the private event, my uncle and I knew we had to make this evening super special.”
His brother Preston, the lead detective on the Hartley, New Mexico, police department, had a way about him that intimidated most people. “Preston carries that much weight?”
“Actually he does, with me and my uncle, that is.”
Something in her tone of voice caught his attention, but before she could say anything more, they heard a loud thump in the kitchen and the rattle of a pot or pan bouncing on the floor.
Kim jumped. “I better go see what happened,” she said, excusing herself.
“Wait,” he said, reaching for her hand. Something felt off. He took a shallow breath and caught the familiar scent of rotten eggs. It seemed to be growing stronger with each passing second.
“That’s a gas leak,” he told Kim, then called out to his brothers. “Everyone outside! Quickly.”
“It’s getting stronger,” Daniel said. “Let’s go, people!” He pulled his wife, Holly, toward the front door.
Rick’s other brother, Paul Grayhorse, got there first but the door refused to budge. “It’s locked!” He turned the knob and shoved, but the door didn’t open. “No, it’s stuck or jammed.”
“Force it,” Gene shouted. “Kick it open if you have to!”
“I’ll check the back,” Rick said, turning toward the kitchen.
“I’ve got to check on my uncle!” Kim rushed past him. She started coughing as she pushed through the double doors to the kitchen. “Uncle Frank? Where are you?”
As Rick caught up to her, they found Frank Nelson lying on the floor beside a long counter, blood oozing from the back of his head.
Kim knelt beside her uncle. “He’s unconscious. We have to get him out of here,” she cried out.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rick noticed movement. It was a flexible metal gas line against the wall behind the stove. Cut in two, it was fluttering slightly from the outflow of methane. Nearby lay a pair of heavy-duty, red-handled bolt cutters.
“We’ve got to get out of here before a spark sets off an explosion,” Rick yelled. “Help me pull him out the back.”
Her eyes narrowed as the foul stink of gas flooded the kitchen, but she didn’t panic. Kim took her uncle’s arm and Rick the other, and together they dragged Frank toward the rear exit.
Rick then pushed the left half of the double doors hard with his shoulder. It creaked, but only opened a few inches before it stopped with a rattle.
He looked down into the gap between the doors. “They’re chained from the outside,” he said, nearly gagging from the strong outflow of methane.
Putting his back into it, Rick pushed even harder. The doors squealed, but held tight.
“We’re trapped! Maybe the front door?” Kim looked toward the dining area.
Following her gaze, Rick could see his brothers all leaning into the door. Slowly they forced it open enough to give Erin, Kyle’s wife and the smallest of the women, room to slip through the gap.
“We can’t wait. I’ve got to break the doors down.” Rick pulled the unconscious man aside, lowered him to the floor and then took a step back. Bracing his arm against his body, he rushed the left door with a yell.
Rick’s two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle crashed against the doors. The brass handles broke with a loud snap and the doors flew open. Rick stumbled halfway across the loading dock and crashed into the guard rail before he could stop himself.
Racing back into the kitchen, he reached Frank and Kim, who was down on her knees beside her uncle. Glancing through the kitchen toward his brothers, Rick saw Daniel, the last of the party, just ducking out.
“Time to leave,” Rick yelled. He put Frank Nelson over his shoulder and strode quickly down the steps of the loading dock. “Hurry,” he added, looking back at Kim.
Kim slipped under the guard rail, jumped off the edge of the platform and met Rick at the bottom of the steps. Just then, Kyle and Preston came around the corner of the Brickhouse, running toward them.
“Get back!” Rick yelled, jogging toward the street with the injured man over his shoulder. “The place can blow any second!”
With Kim beside him, Rick angled left, heading for the corner of the next building over, a former theater turned furniture store. He wanted a solid structure between them and the upcoming blast.
As he reached the sidewalk, he saw his family, en masse, racing across the street in a loose cluster. They had no time to find cover. “On the ground!” he yelled.
Rick dropped to his knees and lowered Frank to the sidewalk. Pulling Kim down and against the wall of the building, he covered her with his body.
Suddenly the earth shook, shaking him back and forth as a massive concussive wave and flash of light swept out into the street. A blinding ball of hot air and flames followed, shooting out of the alley to his left and reaching halfway across the avenue.
The windows on the real-estate office a hundred feet away shattered, raining glass onto the sidewalk. Turning his head slightly, he could see the people he loved, facedown on the far side of the street beside the curb, arms over their heads.
A cascade of falling debris became an ear-shattering hailstorm of bricks and building materials. This went on for several seconds, then began to subside, overwhelmed by the roar and crackle of the resulting fire.
Rick rose to his feet, his mind racing. “You okay?” he asked Kim.
“My uncle... Where is his pulse?” She searched the area around his n
eck with a trembling hand.
“He’s breathing...he’s alive. Put pressure on the head wound and I’ll call an ambulance,” Rick said, turning his back to the wave of heat from the burning building less than twenty-five feet away.
“I called 9-1-1,” Preston said, coming up to him. He nodded at the older man on the sidewalk. “Let’s get him farther away from the fire in case there’s a secondary explosion.”
Together he and Rick carried Frank into the recessed doorway of the furniture store. “Did you get a good look around the kitchen?” Preston asked. “What happened in there?”
“It was no accident. The gas line was cut,” Rick answered. “I saw bolt cutters nearby. Somebody must have decked Frank, then cut the gas line and slipped out into the alley.”
Preston’s gaze swept over his brothers, their wives and the two waiters from the Brickhouse. They’d walked down the street several feet away from the fallen glass and stepped up onto the sidewalk as the first fire truck arrived. “Looks like we’re all okay, and that’s nothing short of a miracle,” he said.
“I’m used to being targeted,” Rick said, his voice reflecting the darkness inside him, “but the cartel I dealt with liked keeping things up close and personal. Cutting a gas line and hoping I’d be caught in an explosion just doesn’t fit their M.O. My enemies are a lot more direct and efficient.”
“Whoever it was didn’t just come after you. They came after all of us brothers, and that was a big mistake,” Daniel said, coming up beside them.
“Not necessarily,” Rick said. Years of undercover work for the FBI, fighting human trafficking, had taught him that control and clear thinking spelled the difference between life and death. Emotions only got in the way. “Others were there, too.”
“You mean they were after our wives?” Paul asked incredulously.
“More likely the restaurant staff,” Rick said. “If the doors hadn’t been blocked, another motive would have been to burn down the business so the owner could collect the insurance.”