Both men twisted around at the sound of the sirens coming from the road below. She took that opportunity to run like hell toward the woods, away from the van, hoping Devon would do the same.
Voices raised in Spanish indicated their debate as to what to do next. She didn’t turn to see if they followed or not, just ran until she found a boulder to hide behind. Chest heaving, she flattened her back against the cold rock and braved a look back toward the parking lot. No one followed. They had bigger things to worry about than some strange hiker.
An explosion rocked the forest. Flames shot high from the parking lot. She screamed and ran toward the lot. Tree branches tore at her skin but still she ran. Flames engulfed the van. The men were gone.
She fell to her knees, screams tearing from her lungs. Devon ran toward her, tears streaming down her face. Another explosion forced both women to the ground. Rocks flew through the air. The smell of gas and fire filled the air. She slammed her fists against the pavement...over and over...slammed until they bled.
* * * *
Sweat dripped into his eyes, pain throbbed in his lower back, but he held firm. He stared at his foot, willing it to move.
“You’re almost there, Colonel. You moved an inch, I swear. Do it again. You’re standing. Once we master this, we can start learning to drive again. Think about it. You’re one step closer to freedom...one...step. Do it again.” Becky stood in front of him, arms ready to catch him if he should fall.
He shook his head, unable to let go of the bar supporting his weight. Knuckles whitened as he held on. His right leg felt like a pincushion, as if it had fallen asleep from him sitting at a strange angle. He wanted to shake it, but couldn’t.
He smiled, though, because he felt it. Even if he didn’t move any further, suddenly felt like he’d summited Everest. Smile turned into a laugh of disbelief.
“Maybe you shouldn’t overdo it. Big move ahead of you tonight. It’s okay. You’ve had an amazing day.” Becky helped him back to his chair. “You’ve had a productive morning.”
He settled back in the chair, strangely satisfied. When he looked at Becky, he laughed again. “Progress, right?”
“Progress. Let’s get you back to your room. Hope asked me to walk Dude this morning so I brought him here. I figured she could pick him up when she picks you up. That’s still the plan, right? You’re going home with her? At least for the weekend?”
“That’s the plan.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs. He looked at the clock. It wasn’t even noon yet, but he’d packed a bag. Not that he had much to pack, but he couldn’t wait to leave. “What time do you think she’ll be here?”
She snorted. “No idea. She texted me before dawn to run over to her place and walk Dude, something about her and Devon being on a story. It wasn’t even light yet so...I don’t know.”
He knew he should have followed her. Something had been brewing between her and Devon when they had left. He’d felt the energy shift, had noticed the exchanged looks between them and Marshall. Hope and Peter used to exchange those same kind of looks.
“Speaking of Hope…” She stopped as they passed the recreation room and steered him inside.
Hope filled the screen, eyes serious, hair braided beneath a battered hat, a streak of dirt on her neck, the black eye barely concealed with make-up, and bandaged hands holding a microphone. She stood in the midst of chaos, fire trucks, police cars, and reported about a van of illegal immigrants who were murdered that morning.
He noticed the slight shaking of her voice beneath the calm exterior, the darkening of her usually vivid green eyes, the extreme paleness of her skin, the clenching of her jaw that proved to him that she was barely keeping it together. He knew then that she had been closer to the scene than what she reported, understood she had seen and probably heard more than she had wanted, could tell she felt sick.
He focused on her hat, recalled every time she’d worn it in Afghanistan, and his blood chilled. She only wore it when she felt threatened and scared, like it was some sort of battle shield.
“Maybe you need to stay here until you’re healthier. You’ve made so much progress in only a week. I wouldn’t want you to undo it. You stood today, after months of stagnation. Don’t risk all of that.” Becky looked at him, not as a patient but as a friend, and he wondered what she really wanted to say despite the smile. “You should get back to your room.”
“You don’t like what Hope does for a living, do you?”
“It’s her life.” She shrugged, walking beside him instead of pushing the chair. “She does what she wants, when she wants.”
“She’s a good reporter.” He looked at his folded hands.
“Yep, and she has the awards to prove it.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Becky sighed. “Warren is stopping by later with the custody papers.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the guidance.” He watched her walk to the windows in his suite and look toward the mountains.
“Dude’s in your bedroom. I tied him up in there so he didn’t cause trouble. Poor thing, always being left behind.”
He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “You think that if I start outpatient therapy that she’ll forget about me, too, is that it? Maybe leave me stranded somewhere?”
“I watched her every night,” she whispered. “I would wait for those reports just so that I knew she was alive. And there she’d be…confident and strong…always looking perfect despite where she was…she’s never been afraid a day in her life.”
He looked at the picture sitting on the end table without a frame and sighed. Like a slide show, he recalled every moment of his time in Afghanistan with Hope Shane; moments where she had cried in his arms as often as she had laughed. She knew fear. They both did.
“She’s been afraid, Becky.”
“She’s a warrior. You’ve said it yourself. She runs toward danger instead of away from it.” She picked up the framed picture of their wedding and shook her head. “Did you regret acting on impulse?” Her eyes darted from the picture to his face. “Is that why you denied being married to her for so many months? Did you want out?”
“That wasn’t about regret.” He shook his head, unable to admit that he’d been too wrapped up in self-pity to think of anything or anyone else. He sighed. He didn’t know how or why his life in a war zone had been less complicated than his current situation.
“I think you see the wildness in her and wonder if you can handle it with your new challenges. I think you watched that news report and wondered if you can truly count on her in the here and now.” She handed him the picture, sadness softening her face. “She’s unpredictable.”
“What’s your problem with her? She’s amazing. Do you know how strong she is, what she sacrifices for what she sees as justice?” A surge of protectiveness straightened his spine.
“Justice...right. At what cost? Her friends, family...you? What is she willing to risk for the sake of a story and the spotlight?”
“That’s not fair.” He wanted to tell her everything he knew about Hope, but kept his mouth shut. Revealing secrets wasn’t his style, but neither was letting someone belittle the bravest woman he’d ever known. “She’s one of a kind.”
Arms crossed as if unwilling to open herself up to another view of her sister, she studied him for what seemed like minutes before straightening her spine. “I have other patients, Michael, so I’ll check in with you later.”
She left without further comment. And that’s when he heard the whining from the bedroom. Dude watched the door expectantly, speckled ears raised, head tilted to the side.
A week ago he’d been putting up a fight about being shipped off to Denver and now here he was with a dog, a wife and sister-in-law with a bad attitude. He grinned at the twists and turns his life had taken to this point.
He’d not only stood today, he’d taken a step without falling on his ass. Tonight his wife was taking him home. Tomorrow his parents were bringing Dalton up for
a visit. That counted for a helluva lot.
“So you’re my dog, huh? I’m not too sure how I feel about that. My son’s gonna love finding out there’s a new member of the family, though. ” He leaned over to unhook the leash from the chair. “I suppose you need to go outside, right?”
The dog stood, eyes alert, tail wagging.
“Yep, I thought so.” As an afterthought, he grabbed a Frisbee from the top of the pile of dog toys. “I suppose we should bond, get to know each other, have some fun.”
He couldn’t believe he was talking to a dog. More than that, he couldn’t believe it when the dog acted like he understood his every word.
What a beautiful day. Sun kissed his skin. Cool breeze tossed hair into his eyes. After maneuvering down the ramp to the walking trail, he released Dude from his leash and watched him sniff around the trees.
He thought of Hope when he looked to the mountains towering along the edge of the city. With a grin, he tossed the Frisbee toward her dog as he galloped toward him.
He began considering all the what-ifs he had denied himself since waking up in the hospital so many months ago.
Dude dumped the Frisbee in his lap, speckled paws resting on his knees, and waited for the next toss.
“She didn’t forget about us,” he whispered to the beast. “She saved my life. More than once. She’s on her way here now. I guarantee it.” Dude tilted his head to the side, eyes alive with interest. “I’m kind of a hardass when it comes to training, Dude, so I’m going to let you know that I expect you to be the best Frisbee catcher this side of the Mississippi. You work hard, I’ll work hard. Deal?”
Dude spun around in a circle, tail wagging as if agreeing to every word.
With a laugh, he threw the Frisbee as hard as he could and watched as the dog jumped at least five feet in the air to catch the thing. He applauded when Dude strutted back with an I-told-you-so kind of look in his oddly colored eyes. Yep, he was definitely Hope Shane’s dog.
Chapter Fifteen
“Why didn’t you call us when you knew who you were following and what they were up to? Hell, why didn’t you call us before you headed out last night, Shane?” Agent Wulf ranted and paced in the news director’s office. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’ve unleashed? Were you even thinking?” He thumped his fingers against his forehead. “I should lock you up.”
She tapped her foot in mid-air and gritted her teeth together. Saying nothing, she watched the agent pace a path in the carpet. Marion, the news director, shoved his hands through his already unruly white hair. Devon sat next to her, also silent.
It had been a helluva day.
“How’d you lose the tail we had on you?” Agent Wulf asked again. He slipped off his suit jacket as if preparing for a fight.
“I’ve instructed Ms. Shane not to answer any questions until we’ve all had some time to talk about this morning’s events.” The station lawyer commented on her behalf.
“The other day you were ready to cooperate with us, now what? You smell another Emmy in your future so you’re holding out?” Agent Wulf’s dark eyes bored into her skull. “You’re dangerous. You’re putting everyone around you at risk.”
She flinched at the accusation that always hit too close to home. She focused on the windows behind him, concentrated on the mid-day traffic going by and the Denver Performing Arts’ Center’s statue of dancing people across the street. She thought of Michael--thought of her promise to bring him home--and knew she needed to postpone that until she could wrap up this story. She’d have to disappoint yet another person today.
“I should arrest you,” Agent Wulf said before turning his focus on Devon. “Do you have anything at all to add? How’d you lose the tail?”
Devon shrugged. “We didn’t. They left to take Becky Shane McGill home. Don’t you talk to your own people?”
“The station is cooperating,” the lawyer continued. “If you have questions about the agents who were supposed to be protecting Ms. Shane, then that sounds like an internal FBI matter. Unless you plan on arresting anyone here today, we have nothing more to say.”
“You’re in danger, Ms. Shane,” the agent continued as if the lawyer hadn’t spoken. “You’ve made yourself a target here. Don’t you have an injured Marine husband to focus your attention on?”
“Leave Michael out of this,” she said after minutes of staying silent.
“He’s in it, though, isn’t he?” The agent’s eyes perked up as if sensing her weakness. “We’ll need to protect him, too, if you keep going with this on your own.”
“You’re already following him so aren’t you protecting him, too?” She met his gaze. “I’m leaving now. You do what you need to do...I’ll do the same.”
She stood without waiting for permission and exited without a backward glance. The source had called, asked to meet with proof that top law enforcement officials were in on the human trafficking. The last thing she needed to do was waste more time being lectured by a suit who—if he’d be truthful about it—wanted her to break the rules and kick down the doors he couldn’t.
As she walked through the busy newsroom, her mind clicked away with the story and what she’d witnessed that morning. Women were being enslaved, used up to repay a so-called debt to those who got them across the border and Denver had become a hub of the worst kind. They’d been burned alive like sacks of trash. There was still a manhunt for the men thought to be hiding in the forest. She gritted her teeth. Bastards. She wished she could hunt them down herself.
“So now what are we going to do?” Devon fell into pace beside her. “You look like you’re about to drop over from exhaustion. Is Michael still moving in with you tonight?”
She stopped by her desk long enough to grab her things. Unaccustomed to talking about him as her husband after months of keeping him secret, she stopped in mid-stride and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do about Michael. We’re supposed to meet Angel tonight in Commerce City.”
“He’ll be safe at your place. Have McGee stay with him if you’re worried.” Devon didn’t look too sharp herself. Dark shadows outlined her eyes, hair tied back with a scarf, and shoulders slumped as if exhaustion pushed down on her. “I guarantee that we all have feds shadowing our every move so how dangerous can it get from here on out?”
“Dangerous enough.” Legs felt heavy as she moved toward the door.
If Michael knew how worried she was about what to do with him, he’d probably go into one of his rants about being a problem, burden or whatever word he could find to justify why they shouldn’t be together. She needed to tread carefully there until he had his confidence back, until he trusted her fully again. So, yeah, what to do with Michael was the question.
* * * *
His doctor droned on and on about the limited sensations he was experiencing. He’d stood on his own and, although he couldn’t take a step and had only stood for about thirty seconds before falling on his ass, everyone was positive that they were moving in the right direction. He thought they were insane. Their optimism exhausted him.
Body aching from the physical therapy in the swimming pool this afternoon, his only thought was being done for the day. Two hours later he exited his psychiatrist’s office, sick to death of everyone in the New Horizons Institute.
Mood darkened even more at the sight of Byron Gannon, Callie’s husband, walking through the lobby.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Byron Gannon stopped and looked surprised to see him. Guilt flashed over his face before the smile slipped into place. He held up a sheath of papers.
“I’m delivering this to your doctor. We want your medical records entered into evidence in the custody hearing.”
“You want my what?” Oh my God, this is real.
“I really didn’t plan on running into you,” Byron said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Have a good day, Colonel.”
“Get the hell out of here,” he said.
“I
’m afraid I don’t follow your orders, Colonel Cedars.” The smile slipped from Byron’s face. “Have you gotten an attorney yet? You’re going to need one if you plan on fighting us.”
“I said to get the hell out of here.” He grabbed Byron’s forearm when the man would have walked past him. “Now.”
“There is nothing you can do, Cedars.” Byron narrowed his brown eyes before yanking his arm away. “From what I see and hear, you’ve already given up on your recovery so now is the time to give up this fight, too. Surrender is obviously in your nature.”
“Go to hell.”
“Admit it…you know what’s best for Dalton in the long run and it’s not you. Oh, and the secret is out about your wife. I know you’re married and I know who she is. She’s quite the celebrity. Reckless, though, always in some kind of danger. Didn’t she get attacked the other night? Wasn’t she pretty close to some kind of explosion this morning? Not exactly material for mom of the year. If you want us to back off, tell her to find a less dangerous profession. I mean it...make sure she gets the message.” Byron shook his head before walking toward the doctor’s office.
He turned the chair around and wheeled toward his room. Fury fueled him. Once inside, he slammed the door shut.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it…” He smacked his fists on the arms of his chair.
“Bad day, I see,” Hope whispered from across the room.
He turned and saw her sitting in the corner chair, her dog curled at her feet. Red hair hung straight and partially over her face. Dark glasses covered her eyes. She wore a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans and boots. Must be hiding the bruises, he thought.
“About damn time you decide to show up.” He turned away from her and moved toward the kitchen. His entire being shook with the force of frustration. He slammed a Coke onto the counter and poured it into a glass filled with ice.
“You look sexy when you’re all fired up,” she said after a prolonged silence.
“You look like hell.” He had missed her like crazy.