Not a man’s voice. Who the hell had come after...? Beckett struggled to hang on to consciousness, but he’d lost too much blood. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he fell into blackness.
* * *
TWIGS AND THORNS tore at her skin as Raleigh rolled into the bushes. Heat—so much heat—seared over her exposed skin. She raised her hand in front of her face to block the burn, but there was nothing left to see. Flames consumed the dry brush around her from the pile of twisted metal. The car had been wired to explode. If she hadn’t gotten out once she’d realized the electrical system was failing, she wouldn’t have escaped in time.
She pushed her hair out of her face, the crisp edges of dried leaves tickling her palms in the strands. She turned back toward the house. The shooter. They must’ve gotten to the vehicle before she and Beckett had. How? The house’s alarm system had been engaged before the power had gone off-line. Had they slipped inside before then or had they been waiting to make their move since Beckett had brought her here? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. She had to find Beckett, had to make sure he was okay.
Raleigh pushed to her feet and headed back toward the house. She’d made him a promise, but that’d been before her only means of escape had exploded. Now she had to go back. Breathtaking pain speared through her side as the adrenaline from the explosion drained. She tugged at the sweater she’d borrowed from the previous owner...and froze. Blood. A wave of dizziness flooded through her at the sight. A thin piece of jagged shrapnel, a quarter inch wide in some areas and a few inches long, protruded from her right side beneath the thick cables of yarn. She couldn’t risk infection spreading to the baby. She had to remove the shrapnel and clean the wound. Raleigh struggled to breathe evenly through the pain, to stay on her feet.
Whoever had stolen that money didn’t only want her dead. They were trying to destroy her completely. Who would do this to her? Who would risk shooting a US marshal for the chance of making sure she never uncovered the truth?
She scanned the dirt road leading back toward the house and stumbled forward. Shifting her sweater over the wound, she spit to counteract the dirt stuck to the inside of her mouth. There was a first-aid kit in the house. She remembered seeing it in the garage. “Beckett.”
Her throat burned as black smoke billowed into the sky and shadowed the ground in front of her. She forced one foot in front of the other until she reached the garage. No sign of Beckett or the... Her chest constricted. Drag marks carved into the dirt threatened to trip her as the weight of her upper body pulled her around the side of the house. Beckett. Crusted blood flaked in her palms from trying to slow his bleeding in the kitchen.
He had to be here. He had to be alive. She’d come back to her aunt’s cabin in desperation, but having him here these past eighteen hours had forced her to confront the demons she’d been hiding from her whole life. One kiss. That was all it’d taken to replace the pain, the loneliness and isolation with something she hadn’t felt in so long, hadn’t believed was meant for her—even for those brief seconds. He’d given her a glimpse of hope.
And she wasn’t leaving without him.
Dry dirt gave way to green grass as Raleigh followed the drag marks to the large barn across the property. Her legs threatened to collapse right from under her as she caught sight of one of the main doors partially slid back on its track. Hadn’t it been closed when they’d arrived? Pressing her back against the opposite door, she twisted her head to see inside, instincts on high alert. Ice slid through her as she caught sight of the body in the middle of the floor. “Beckett!”
Dried grass crunched under her boots as she rushed inside and dropped beside him. His chest rose and fell in shallow rhythms. He was alive, but unconscious. Her hands hovered above the bloody stain spreading across his shirt from where he’d been shot in the shoulder, the tubing she’d tied still in place, but now there was a second wound in his thigh. She had to stop the bleeding. Applying pressure on his thigh, she pressed her weight into him. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m here. Stay with me.”
Pulling the phone he’d given her from her back pocket with her free hand, she noted a mere glance of her reflection in the cracked glass. The phone must’ve been destroyed when she’d rolled from the car. She couldn’t call anybody. Tears burned in her eyes. She wasn’t trained for this. She wasn’t a doctor. Raleigh forced herself to take a deep breath. But neither of those things was going to stop her from trying to save his life. “Hold on a little bit longer. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Another reflection in the shattered glass hiked her pulse into dangerous territory, and Raleigh lunged to the side. The phone slipped from her hand as she turned to confront her attacker, but a hand fisted the hair at the side of her head and thrust her into the floor. The world tilted on its axis as black shoes slipped into her vision. Crouching beside her, the masked shooter—maybe the same one from the cabin, she didn’t know—gripped her chin in one hand. “I was hoping it didn’t have to come to this, Raleigh, but you wouldn’t follow the script we gave you. Like I told your marshal over there. None of this would’ve happened if you’d taken the fall for stealing the donations like you were supposed to.”
Recognition flared as brown eyes settled on her, and something inside Raleigh broke. She’d been right all along, but knowing who’d betrayed her didn’t make the truth any easier. The pain in her side intensified the deeper she breathed. “You can take the mask off, Emily. You, of all people, should have the guts to face me after what you’ve done.”
“You always were too smart for your own good. I told my employer we should’ve gotten rid of you as soon as you started looking into those transfers, but they’ve always had a soft spot for you. Don’t ask me why.” A gun materialized in Emily Cline’s hand as her former assistant pulled the thick ski mask over her head and tossed it a few feet away. Long black hair had been sleeked back in a low ponytail, accentuating the fullness of the woman’s nose and lips. The same smile her assistant had greeted her with every morning Raleigh had walked into her office tugged at the corners of her mouth. Emily ran her free hand over the frizzed hair trying to escape, the gun still aimed directly at Raleigh. Thick arched eyebrows drew together to form three small lines as her former assistant used the barrel of her weapon to move a piece of hair out of Raleigh’s face. “As far as I’m concerned, you were the perfect patsy, someone we could use and discard like so many others have done before. That’s why we targeted you, Raleigh. All those foster families, your aunt. Even the marshal over there. You weren’t good enough for any of them. Nothing you did could make them love you, and now you’ve outlived your use for us.”
The words carved through her, just as Emily had meant them to. Heat rushed into Raleigh’s face and neck, her heart rate spiking at the base of her throat. She diverted her gaze to the floor, not willing to let her attacker know exactly how deep she’d cut, but she couldn’t keep her attention from straying to Beckett lying there, bleeding on the ground.
The fact she’d been rejected—betrayed—by so many had made her an easy target to Emily and whoever else had framed her for stealing those donation funds, and her heart tightened in her chest. Because Emily was right. Nothing she’d done had made any of those families want to keep her, made her aunt love her, and despite the fact she and Beckett had been together for six months, in the end, he’d walked away from her, too.
If it’d been as easy as her getting arrested to tear them apart, then what they’d had... It hadn’t been real. At least, not for him, but that didn’t change the fact Beckett was her baby’s father, and she’d do whatever it took to make sure their daughter was loved by both of her parents as long as she could help it.
“From what it sounds like, you’re just a fixer, Emily. You’re not the brains behind the plan to embezzle from the foundation. You’re a pawn, like me. So who’s the one making the moves?” She dug the tips of
her fingers into the barn floor, hay bending under her grip as Emily stared her down. Air pressurized in her lungs the longer her former assistant had the gun trained on her, but if there was a chance she could find out who Emily worked for—and stay alive in the process—she’d take it. She wasn’t going to die here. “Do you really believe you won’t outlive your use to whoever you’re working for when all of this is over? That they’ll protect you when the truth comes out?”
A low laugh escaped Emily’s throat as she shook her head and straightened. Lowering her voice, the shooter leaned in as though she were about to tell Raleigh a secret. “Everything that’s happened these past few months—the forged signatures on the transfers, the offshore accounts in your name and the shell companies—that was all me. My plan, my execution. Only now I wish I would’ve killed you sooner. Would’ve saved me a whole hell of a lot of trouble.”
Emily aimed the gun at Raleigh’s chest, and every cell in Raleigh’s body screamed in warning. She couldn’t stop a bullet, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight either. Beckett was losing blood. Fast. Pressing her heels into the floor, she ignored the pain tearing through her side where the shrapnel shifted beneath her sweater and prepared to rush her former assistant as fast as she could.
Movement registered from behind the shooter, and she realized Beckett was conscious. She kept her gaze on Emily as he fought to get to his feet. Was he going to attack from behind? He’d already taken a bullet to the shoulder and what looked like a knife wound to his thigh. How much more blood could he lose before his body started shutting down? Her mouth dried. Desperation clawed up her throat. They had to get out of here, but without Emily in cuffs, the shooter would keep coming after them, and they wouldn’t have any proof to clear Raleigh’s name. Raleigh had to give Beckett a chance. Before Emily realized he’d gotten to his feet. “If you kill me, the secondary account you and your partner have been hiding from the FBI will be exposed.”
Emily kept her expression hard as stone aside from the slight downturn of one corner of her mouth. A piece of straw snapped under Beckett’s boot, and the shooter twisted around, finger on the trigger.
And fired.
Chapter Seven
“No!” Long dark hair and a flash of red against white blurred in front of him as Raleigh tackled the shooter to the ground. She was alive. The explosion... She must’ve gotten free of the blast, but now the shooter who’d tried to kill her was scrambling for the gun.
The bullet burned across the surface of his arm but missed puncturing another hole in his body. Beckett stumbled forward, dizzy. Every nerve ending in his leg screamed for relief. The attacker’s knife hadn’t gone too deep, but there was a possibility he was losing blood a lot faster than he’d originally calculated. He closed in on the two women struggling for the weapon.
That flash of red along Raleigh’s white T-shirt. A sickening twist knotted his gut. She could’ve been injured in the explosion. He had to get her out of here. Had to get her help. What if it affected the baby? Neither of them would forgive themself if something happened to their daughter. His injured leg dragged behind him, and a single kick from the attacker knocked him off-balance. He hit the ground, his shoulder reminding him there was still a piece of steel lodged deep in the muscles of his shoulder.
Wrapping her gloved hands around Raleigh’s throat, the woman she’d called Emily fought to smother his future right in front of him. Raleigh’s legs kicked out in an attempt to loosen the other woman’s grip, but the shooter had the advantage, and she knew it.
“Get your damn hands off of her.” A growl built in his chest as he reached out for the nearest item he could use as a weapon—a shovel—and swung. Hard. The metal reverberated off bone into his hands, and the shooter collapsed onto her side. Strained coughing kicked his heart rate into overdrive as Raleigh struggled to sit upright, and he tossed the shovel. Crouching beside Raleigh, he skimmed the angry red skin along her neck. “Tell me you’re okay. Is the baby okay?”
“I think so.” Her hand shook above her wound as she pulled the oversize green sweater away. She nodded, out of breath. Wild green eyes focused on the woman unconscious beside her. “It was her. Emily. She pretended to be my assistant so she could ensure all the evidence of the missing funds pointed to me like we thought. She set up the offshore accounts in my name, forged my signature on the transfers. All of it, but she wasn’t working alone.”
“She had a partner.” Clarity slid through him for the first time since he’d caught up to her in that old cabin less than twenty-four hours ago. Hell. Had it really only been a day? Beckett pulled a set of cuffs—the same set he’d secured Raleigh with—and dragged Emily’s wrists behind her back. Slight movements from the hay in front of her mouth said she was still alive, but she’d have to deal with a hell of a headache when she woke. “Makes sense. My guess is she’s a professional. She’s been trained in weapons and hand-to-hand combat better than most of the deputies on my team. Someone like that is usually only good for one thing—following orders. She was hired. Emily probably isn’t even her real name. Most likely a cover planted inside the foundation.”
He hauled Emily from the floor and dragged her upright against one of the empty horse stalls, his leg threatening to give out with each step. Sweeping the shooter’s gun from the floor, he tucked it into his empty shoulder holster. Where his service weapon had ended up, he had no idea. Right now, it didn’t matter. He’d just make damn sure Emily never laid another hand on Raleigh again. Ever.
“Whoever sent her to kill us is going to know she didn’t finish the job. If they were willing to hire someone like this in the first place, there’s nothing stopping them from doing it again.” Raleigh wedged her boots into the hay-covered floor until her back pressed against the opposite stall from Emily. Clutching her side with one hand, she slid her palm across her lower abdominals with the other, as though seeking assurance the small life inside was still there after nearly being blown to pieces. Fresh blood spread beyond the border of where her sweater skimmed the waistband of her jeans. Color drained from her face as she shook her head slowly. “We’re still in danger. We’ll always be in danger as long as I’m a loose end. It’s never going to stop.”
“I’m going to find who did this. I give you my word. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again. Understand?” Crouching as best he could in front of her, he swept her sweater out of the way, one hand cradled at her lower back as he studied the piece of shrapnel in her side. Shallow exhalations brushed against the overheated skin of his neck despite the frigid temperatures outside. Ripping his coat from his shoulders, he bit down on the groan working up his throat from the bullet wound. “You’re losing blood. Stay as still as you can while I find something to get that metal out.”
“This wasn’t how I imagined seeing you again.” Her lashes brushed against the tops of her cheeks. Letting her hand fall to the top of her thigh, she revealed the bloodstained handprint across the white T-shirt she wore. Directly over where their baby would be.
“How exactly did you think it would play out?” He had to keep her talking, had to get her to hang on. Because despite the mess they’d made of their relationship, he still gave a damn about what happened to her. Her and their baby. Beckett shoved to his feet. He pushed the pain and weakness in his leg to the back of his mind. Red-and-white decals drove him toward the large first-aid kit hung against one wall of the barn. Clean her up. Get her to safety. Nothing else mattered.
His heart stalled in his chest as he turned at her lack of response and noted the slackness in her expression. He hauled the kit from the wall and limped back to her side. The kit skidded across the cement, bits of dust and hay digging into his knees. Framing one hand along her jawline, he brushed her hair out of the way with the other. She was breathing but unconscious. Sweat built in a thin layer along her temples. Couldn’t be an infection. Not this fast. “Raleigh, open your eyes.”
No answ
er.
No. He maneuvered her flat onto her back, raised his voice and checked her pulse at the base of her throat. “Raleigh.”
“Looks like I’ve done my job after all.” The thud of Emily Cline setting her head back against the warm-colored wood of the stall reached his ears. “Although I have to admit, Raleigh Wilde wasn’t nearly as easy to surprise as her partner, but this was a lot more fun. A challenge.”
“Calvin Dailey.” Of course Emily had killed him. Because the only person who could clear Raleigh’s name couldn’t be left to the chance he’d never talk to the feds in the future. Beckett didn’t bother looking at the woman sent to ruin Raleigh’s life as he spun the first-aid kit latch toward him. He riffled through the contents, pulling alcohol, cotton pads and an emergency sewing kit from inside. “Say another word, and I’ll make sure you don’t wake up a second time.”
“Promises, promises, Marshal Foster.” Emily Cline’s laugh pooled dread at the base of his spine. “But don’t forget, I was able to insert myself into a global foundation and operate without raising any red flags from the executives for over a year, and the only way I could’ve done that was by doing my research. I know you.” The weight of her attention constricted the air in his chest. “Your moral code you pride yourself on so highly doesn’t let you see in anything but black and white since you realized your father was the reason you lost your mother. At least, until yesterday, when you decided that woman was worth risking your career and everything you believed in. You’re finally seeing the world isn’t black-and-white. No matter how many criminals you’ve put away to prove otherwise, I know you won’t kill me in cold blood. You don’t have it in you.”
Beckett’s hands hovered above Raleigh’s wound, blood trickling from the shrapnel with every shallow breath she took. His ears rang at the sight. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see anything in front of him but the dark outline of his mother bleeding to death on the floor of their farmhouse all those years ago. His vision swam, his heart pounding hard behind his ears to the point he thought he might pass out. The only person who’d ever supported him, who’d always been there for him, had slipped away as easily as water draining from a tub.
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