Текст книги "Striking Distance"

Автор книги: Pamela Clare

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“When they dragged you from the room, you must have been terrified.” The false sympathy in Chapin’s voice sickened Javier.

If the bastard truly cared about her, he wouldn’t be putting her through this.

“Of course.”

“What did you think they would do to you?”

Laura’s voice held no emotion when she answered. “I assumed I would be killed or held hostage for ransom, as other journalists had been.”

“But that’s not what happened, is it?”

“No.”

No way

was he going to make Laura repeat details of her ordeal on live TV.

“Can you tell our viewers what

did

happen?”

¡Hijo e la gran puta!

Laura’s voice was calm, steady. “As your viewers already know, I was held captive for eighteen months, beaten, sexually assaulted, and threatened almost daily with beheading. I was eventually rescued by a team of Navy SEALs.”

Chapin seemed to wait, hoping she’d say more. When she didn’t, he looked gravely at the camera. “Beaten. Raped daily. Threatened with beheading. It’s been a long, hard healing process for you, I’m sure.”

The man warped Laura’s words. She’d said she was threatened with beheading daily, but he’d said she was raped daily. Obviously, he was trying to titillate his viewers.

¡Que clase e cabrón! What a bastard!

Laura’s chin went up, a glint of anger in her eyes. “I put that behind me when I testified at Al-Nassar’s trial. I have a wonderful life now.”

When she said nothing more, Chapin went on. “We’ve all just seen that horrifying footage of your abduction. As incredible as it may seem, Derek Tower, CEO of Tower Global Security, says he believes

you

may be to blame for what we just witnessed. More on this when we return.”

The moment the broadcast cut away to a commercial, Javier headed straight for Laura, ignoring Martin’s attempts to block him.

“You can’t go on set!”

“Try to stop me.” Javier strode over to Laura, who was staring down at the desk, her hand still clenched in a fist. He took it, held it, found it cold. “You okay,

bella

?”

She looked up at him, anguish and fury in her eyes. “He promised he wouldn’t do this. He promised. He didn’t even mention the car bomb. This first part was supposed to be about Al-Nassar’s trial and the car bomb.”

“You don’t have to put up with this. Just say the word, and we’re out of here.”

She shook her head. “If I leave now, I’ll burn a bridge with the network, and I’ll lose credibility with—”

“Twenty seconds!” a dark-haired woman called to them.

Javier squeezed Laura’s hand. “All right. You’re doing great. Just finish it.”

He stepped off set again as the camera once again went live.

* * *

IT WAS ALMOST over.

“One last question before we go: Is it possible that one of Tower’s men made a fatal mistake that day?”

Laura heard the one-minute warning in her earpiece.

She focused on her answer, careful not to rush her words. “I refuse even to speculate. These men were my friends. We’d traveled the world together for more than two years, and they lost their lives trying to save mine. Did security measures fail that day? Yes, but not because any of us were negligent. To paraphrase the State Department report, we were in the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time.”

“The wrong neighborhood at the wrong time. A dark day.” Gary paused for effect. “Thanks for joining us this evening, Laura. It’s great to have you back. It’s been a long time.”

“Thank you, Gary. It’s good to be back in the studio.” Laura gave the camera her warmest smile, held it.

The tally light went dark.

She shot to her feet, yanked out the earpiece, ripped off the microphone, letting both fall on the desk, her heart still pounding, her stomach in knots.

“Great show!” Martin walked over to her, his face split by a wide grin. “That was fantastic. I can’t wait to see the numbers. I bet they’re through the roof.”

Everyone was smiling, laughing, talking.

But not Laura. She felt sick. Enraged. Hurt.

She tried not to take her anger at Gary out on them. This wasn’t their fault. She shook hands, people seeming to crowd in on her, names and faces blurring together—Martin, Temple, Diane, Tania. “Thank you. Thanks, everyone.”

Then Javier was there beside her. He leaned in and spoke for her ears only, his presence giving her something to hold on to. “Do you want to change first, or do you just want to get the hell out of here?”

She was too upset to think, let alone make a decision, her hand reaching for his. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“Let’s go.”

People moved aside for him, seeming to want to get out of his path as Javier led her back to the dressing room, where Janet was waiting for them.

“We’re going to grab her things and go,” he said to Janet, who passed the message on to the deputy U.S. Marshals in the hallway beyond.

Laura entered the dressing room and walked over to her clothes, which hung on a hook beside the empty garment bag. “That jerk! He said he wouldn’t show the footage, that he wouldn’t ask for details about my captivity.”

She hoped no one was listening outside the door, because she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking, repressed anger and adrenaline surging through her.

“I used to like the guy. He used to be my favorite news dude. Now I want to bust his nuts.” Javier pointed to the vials and tubes of makeup sitting next to her makeup kit on the dressing table. “Are these yours?”

She nodded, wadding her jeans and shoving them into the garment bag. “He’s never forgiven me for giving that interview to Diane Sawyer. He wanted to be the first one to interview me after I returned to the U.S., but I went with Diane because she agreed to respect my boundaries. He wouldn’t.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s a grade-A piece of shit if you ask me.” Javier opened her makeup kit, held it edge to edge with the dressing table, and swept everything—every vial, brush, tube, and bottle—into the kit with his forearm.

Laura gaped at him. “That stuff is worth hundreds of dollars.”

He shrugged, then shut the kit. “That’s how SEALs pack makeup.”

The absurdity of his words made her smile.

Only Javier could do that—make her smile when she felt this shaken.

She grabbed the rest of her clothes, shoved them into the garment bag, and zipped the bag shut. She turned to find Javier holding her Kevlar vest. He’d just finished helping her fasten it in place when Janet appeared at the dressing room door.

“There’s a lot of media out there. Ready to go?”

“Just about.” Javier grabbed Laura’s coat and held it for her.

She slid her arms into the sleeves, then turned to face him.

Their gazes met, locked.

“Thanks for being here, Javi.”

He ran a finger down her cheek. “You bet.”

With Janet in front of her and Javier behind her, Laura walked out of the dressing room, down the hallway, and out the back door into the cold night, the two DUSMs who’d watched over the station’s rear entrance following them.

The night exploded with flashes and the

click-click-click

of cameras.

“Did you know Gary Chapin was going to play the footage from your abduction?”

“Do you plan to sue Derek Tower for slander?”

“Look this way, Laura! Just one shot!”

Thankfully, the engine of the SUV was already running, its back door open for her, a DUSM sitting in the driver’s seat.

Half blinded by the light, Laura caught the heel of one shoe in a crack in the asphalt and stumbled—just as a distant

crack

rang out, something whooshing above her head, striking the wall beside her, a spray of what felt like pebbles hitting her face. She didn’t even have time to react before she found herself on the ground, breath knocked from her lungs, Javier on top of her, firearm in his hand.

“Sniper!” he shouted in a deep voice she’d never heard before. “Nine o’clock!”

Gunfire. Screams. Running feet.

It was happening again.

CHAPTER

15

¡PUÑETA!

FUCK!

On a single inhale, Javier weighed his options. He had no infrared drone overhead to give him the big picture, no radio contact with the DUSMs, and no damned assault rifle. There were ten feet between Laura and the station’s rear entrance and a couple of lateral feet between her and the SUV’s open door. But judging from the hole that first shot had left in the building’s concrete wall, these were armor-piercing rounds. Bulletproofing was

not

going to stop them from penetrating the vehicle—which meant they couldn’t take shelter inside it—and lying here on the ground and trying to use it for cover was a fucking bad idea.

They had to move

now

.

But moving was risky, too. If this sniper had any training, he’d be watching, waiting for Laura to pop into his sights again in her attempt to flee.

“Stay low!” Javier caught her hard around the waist and dragged her up with him, lunging for the studio’s back door, Agent Killeen behind them.

“Get back!” he shouted to the station’s staff, who stood just inside the door staring in horrified surprise. “Get back, goddamn it!”

Two more shots, and Killeen went down with a cry.

Javier didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Laura would be dead if he did.

The best thing he could do for Killeen and the others was to get Laura out of the line of fire. As long as she was in the shooter’s sights, he would keep firing, putting every DUSM, reporter, and bystander out here at risk.

Javier threw himself and Laura through the open doorway, the two of them landing on their hands and knees just as the shooter opened up on the entrance.

More screams.

Javier jumped up, dragged Laura to her feet again, and hurried her down the hallway. “Everyone get out of the hallway and away from the door! Those rounds can penetrate concrete. Go!

Move!

”

He didn’t stop moving until they reached the dressing room. Both hands gripping her coat, he pressed her up against the wall. “Are you hurt,

bella

? Talk to me.”

She looked at him with dazed blue eyes, blood running down her temple, her entire body shaking. “I-I’m fine.”

Shit.

“Like hell you are.”

She was in psychological shock—acute stress reaction.

He quickly removed her coat, checked her for other injuries, and found abrasions on her palms and right knee from hitting the asphalt so hard.

God

damn

, that had been close! If she hadn’t stumbled . . .

His stomach lurched at the very thought.

She reached up, pressed her hand to her bleeding temple, and looked down at the blood on her fingers, as if she couldn’t understand what had happened, the expression on her face reminding him of the expression she’d worn in the helo after he’d carried her out of Al-Nassar’s compound. Slowly, she sank to a sitting position on the floor.

He draped her coat over her to keep her warm and pulled out his cell. “McBride, it’s Corbray. Yes, she’s safe but in shock with contusions on her right temple, her hands, and one knee. She’ll need an ambulance. We’re inside the building. Killeen is down. I think the shots came from the top of a parking garage to the north of our position. He’s probably using a flash suppressor.”

Through the walls of the station Javier could hear the wail of sirens, but it sounded as if the shooting had stopped. Oh, how he wished he were out there, rifle in hand. He would run that fucker down and catch him trying to make his getaway.

But Javier couldn’t leave Laura.

“We’ll stay put. Roger that.” He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket, then walked to a nearby sink, grabbed a paper towel, and wet it. “One of the deputies is taking care of Killeen. Ambulances are on their way.”

Laura was silent, her gaze focused on nothing as he knelt beside her.

He pressed the wet paper towel to her temple, gently wiping away the blood, something in his chest constricting when the light pressure made her flinch. “Sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to get a look.”

Her temple had a few deep abrasions, and it looked as if some debris had embedded itself in her skin, probably from ricocheting bits of concrete. Once it was cleaned out, it would heal fine. She was lucky it hadn’t struck her eyes.

“Look at me,

bella

. Talk to me.”

She met his gaze, her eyes still unfocused, pupils dilated, body trembling, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. But she said nothing.

And Javier understood.

She’d been forced to watch the footage of her abduction and had then stepped out the door into a hail of gunfire. Together, it was just too much.

He pressed his forehead to hers and looked straight into her eyes. “Laura, do you hear me? You’re safe. You’re here with me, and you’re safe.”

A voice came from the dressing room doorway. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Javier looked up—and found himself staring into a camera lens.

“Turn that fucking thing off!” He reached out, put his palm over the lens, got to his feet, and slowly pushed the cameraman out the door. “You got any shame, man? She’s one of yours. If she were lying there bleeding to death, would you film that, too? Yeah, you probably would. Ratings, right?”

Martin spluttered, glaring at him. “Do you know how expensive that piece of equipment is? You can’t—

“The hell I can’t.” Javier stepped back, slammed the dressing room door in the cameraman’s face, and locked it. He sat beside Laura and drew her trembling body into his arms. “It’s going to be all right.”

* * *

IT WAS THE reassuring sound of Javier’s voice that reached her.

“Javi?”

“I’m right here,

bella

. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Head throbbing, Laura realized she was in the station’s dressing room. She’d done the broadcast. Gary had played the footage of her abduction. And . . .

Oh, God! Someone had tried to shoot her!

“Wh-what . . . Who . . . ?” Her heart pounded as if she’d been running, her stomach churning, her body shaking uncontrollably.

He looked into her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that. McBride, the cops—they’ve got this locked down. It’s over. You’re safe.”

It was then she remembered, her heart giving a hard knock, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush. “Janet. Agent Killeen! She was shot!”

It was happening again. People were dying because of her.

“The ambulance is almost here. There are marshals with her now. She’s not alone,

bella

. Just take deep breaths.”

Laura closed her eyes, tried to do as he said, but the sound of gunshots and screams echoed in her mind, memories of another time, another place.

Cries. AK fire. So much death.

Cover her! Cover her!

No. No. No!

She clung to Javier, the strength of his embrace and the reassuring tone of his voice holding her together, horror from the past threatening to drag her under. She lost any sense of time, aware only of Javier and the thrum of her own pulse.

A knock.

“Paramedics!”

“They’re here,

bella

.” Javier pulled away from her, reached over, unlocked the door. “They’ve come to help.”

Two men in paramedic uniforms entered, both carrying red medical kits.

“She’s got some abrasions, and I think she’s in shock—acute stress reaction,” Javier said.

The paramedics knelt down beside her. “You’ve had a rough night, but we’re going to check you over and take good care of you, Ms. Nilsson.”

One of them clipped something to the end of her finger and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her left arm, puffing it up until it was tight.

But Laura wasn’t the one who needed help. She tried to draw away. “Go to Janet—Agent Killeen. She’s been shot.”

Javier took her right hand and leaned in close where she could see him. “There’s already a team with her, Laura. These men are here to help

you

.”

They were here to help her? There was nothing wrong with her.

“I-I’m fine.”

None of them seemed to agree with her.

“Those contusions aren’t serious, but she’s definitely shocky. Pulse is ninety-eight. BP is seventy-five over forty.”

“We’ll get some fluids in her, give her some IV Ativan and some oxygen, and get her under transport.”

It took a moment for their words to hit her, but when they did, she shook her head.

“No. I’m not going to the hospital.”

“You’re in shock,

bella

. You need—”

“No! Take me home. I just want to go home.”

* * *

IT WAS ALMOST midnight by the time they reached The Ironworks and parked in the secured underground garage. Zach opened Laura’s door, Javier meeting her at the rear of the vehicle. Marc and Julian pulled into a visitor’s space near Laura’s car, which sat looking abandoned and forlorn, not having been driven in almost a week. Two other unmarked vehicles, each carrying two deputy marshals, slowly circled the garage, while the security detail that had her building under surveillance kept watch on the street.

She ought to feel safe, but she didn’t. Maybe it was recounting the details of what had happened for Alex for his news story. Or maybe it was just stress or exhaustion. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that had crept over her. She felt hunted, the world closing in around her.

They walked to the elevator, Laura sandwiched between the men, their footfalls sharp against the concrete floor, the echo eerie. She pushed the elevator call button, and they waited.

Ding.

Laura gasped, jumped.

It was just the elevator car arriving.

Javier slipped an arm around her waist.

She let herself lean into him, needing him, needing his strength, his confidence. How could anyone live with this kind of violence as part of his job? She glanced up at the men around her, each of them willing to risk his life for hers, each of them ready and able to kill, each of them . . . so much taller than she was.

She let out a laugh, surprising herself as much as anyone else.

“What’s funny?” Javier asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been the shortest person in the room before.”

The men didn’t say a word, but Laura saw grins on their faces.

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out, crossing the small hallway to her door. Laura fished in her handbag and drew out her keys.

Zach held out his hand. “Hunter, you and I will clear the place. You two stay here with Laura.”

Laura gave him the keys and waited, Javier and Julian beside her. She heard the click of the dead bolt and looked up to see Kathleen Parker and her husband peering out of their front door.

“Yes, I’m still alive. I know you don’t want me here, but this is my home.”

The door shut hard, the bolt turning with a quiet

click

.

“What the hell was that about?” Julian asked.

Laura was about to explain, but Javier beat her to it. “The day after the car bomb, Ms. Nosy Yoga Pants there came over to tell Laura that she and her hubby and some other folks in the building would sleep better at night if Laura sold her flat and moved somewhere else.”

“I guess I can understand why they’re nervous, but seriously?” Julian rested a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Sorry you had to put up with that, Laura.”

Zach returned. “The place is clear.”

Laura walked inside—and stepped on something. She looked down to find a large manila envelope with her name on it lying on the floor. Pretty sure she knew what it was, she bent over and snatched it up, tucking it beneath her arm.

But Javier had seen. “What was that?”

“Oh, just some files I requested.” She hoped he would assume she was talking about her job. “You all feel free to make yourselves comfortable. Grab whatever you want from the kitchen. I’m going to take a shower and call my mother.”

She walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She set her purse aside and looked down at the envelope. There on the front, Agent Killeen had printed her name with black marker.

Poor Janet!

Laura sat on the edge of her bed, ran her fingers over the letters, and found herself blinking back tears. Janet had fought to stay on Laura’s protection detail and had ended up taking a bullet for it. Was she out of surgery yet? How badly had she been hurt?

What if Javier had been shot, too? What if he’d been killed?

Laura couldn’t stand to think about it, the very idea making her stomach knot.

And suddenly she felt weary to the bone.

She was tired of being afraid, tired of seeing good people get hurt and killed, tired of feeling like every day was an uphill battle. Life had been challenging enough just trying to put body and soul back together, hold down a job, and find Klara.

But now . . .

What had happened today had reopened something dark inside her, punctured a deep hole in her sense of self, and exposed the brokenness that was still inside her. For a time, she’d been shut down. She hadn’t been able to think clearly.

Had she made any true progress? How could she still be a prisoner of this terror?

Allt kommer att bli bättre med tiden.

Everything will get better with time.

Would it?

Laura got to her feet, tucked the thick envelope into one of her drawers, then walked toward the bathroom.

* * *

JAVIER HEARD THE water go on in the shower and nodded to the others.

McBride spoke first. “Our guys found Derek Tower with a bullet in his chest on the top level of the parking garage. He was armed—an HK Mark 23 and a tricked-out AR-15 that was loaded with five-five-six green tip.”

Armor-penetrating rounds.

“Is he dead?”

McBride shook his head. “He’s in surgery at University Hospital. No word on his condition, but it doesn’t look good.”

A cold sense of loathing settled in Javier’s chest. “So Tower is our man after all.”

“What’s the first rule of assassination?”

“Kill the assassin.” Javier didn’t like the way this was coming together. “Maybe Tower was the shooter and someone showed up to take care of him, or Tower came to take out the shooter and it went sideways big-time.”

“How would a former Green Beret get mixed up with terrorists?” Hunter asked.

McBride shrugged. “Regardless of how it went down, there has to be at least one more person involved, someone bad enough to get the better of Tower.”

“If Tower isn’t our shot-caller, he must know who is.” Darcangelo ran a hand over the day’s worth of stubble on his jaw. “I just hope he survives.”

“How about Agent Killeen?” Javier knew Laura would ask.

“She made it through surgery. They had to transfuse her, but she made it. The round shattered her hip, broke her pelvis, and severed her sciatic nerve. They had to replace the joint. They’re not sure how much nerve function she’ll regain.”

“Jesus!”

Javier hated to think of the long road that lay ahead of her. If Tower was behind this . . . “It’d be best not to tell Laura yet. She really likes Killeen. She’s going to take it hard, and I don’t think she can handle anything else tonight.”

“Obviously, it was a mistake for us to let Laura do the interview at the studio,” McBride said. “We asked the station not to announce it, but they couldn’t resist. That gave our shooter a couple of days to plan. He got the studio’s address, was probably watching when she arrived, using the hour she was inside to get into position.”

That made sense to Javier. “Whoever he was, he had good night optics, and he knew how to shoot. If Laura hadn’t tripped . . .”

He let it go, unable to say it, the very thought making his heart trip.

“So the shooter sucks with ANFO, but he’s got some solid sniping skills.” Darcangelo seemed to consider this apparent contradiction.

“Not just solid, buddy. Rock fucking solid.” Hunter looked over at McBride. “I stood where he stood when he took those shots and scoped them myself. It was a good three hundred yards, but he hit everything he wanted to hit—except for Laura. He wasn’t just firing random shots, at least not until the end. He fired at her, missed. Then he took out the SUV’s engine and its tires, immobilizing the vehicle, clearly hoping she’d take cover inside.”

And then he’d have had her.

McBride pointed to Hunter. “He’s not just making shit up, Corbray. Hunter here served as an army sniper. Earned himself some medals, too. For a while he held the record both for confirmed kills and long-distance marksmanship.”

“So the guy we’re looking for can shoot, but somehow missed Explosives 101. That’s strange.” Then it dawned on Javier. “Do we know for certain that the shooter is the guy behind the car bomb?”

McBride shook his head. “We can’t be sure these two attempts on her life were made by the same person. We have no idea how many suspects might be involved or whether they’re part of a cell. We have no clue how Tower is connected to this or why he was shot. All we have are more pieces to the puzzle, and that puzzle keeps getting bigger. We’re pulling surveillance video on the parking garage. Hopefully it will give us some answers.”

“DPD is canvasing for witnesses,” Hunter said. “This happened in the middle of downtown Denver. Someone must have seen something.”

Javier hoped so. “The pieces need to start coming together—and fast. It was close today, man, too close.”

“Hell, yeah, it was,” Darcangelo said. “We got ahold of the news footage, then slowed it down. That round missed her head by no more than an inch.”

Javier’s stomach seemed to hit the floor.

McBride met his gaze. “You saved her life. You realized what was happening before anyone else. She’d have been dead the moment she regained her footing if you hadn’t been there.”

Somehow that didn’t make Javier feel better. “So what’s the plan?”

“We work the case,” McBride said. “We pull surveillance video, question Tower if and when he wakes up, and strengthen security around this building. Until we know for certain Tower is our shooter, we cover all adjacent rooftops and keep this place under tight surveillance. Laura can’t set a foot outside her own door. They took a shot at her today because they knew exactly where she was going to be and when. But they haven’t tried to hit her here, which tells me they’ve scoped it out and decided it’s too risky.”

Javier would see to it that the risk level got even higher.

“Any chance it would be safer for her in Sweden?” Darcangelo asked. “She’s got family there, right?”

“She’d have to give up the life she’s built for herself, and she doesn’t want to do that.” Javier couldn’t blame her. She’d already lost more than most people could comprehend. “Besides, what’s to stop these guys from boarding a plane and taking a little trip to Stockholm? You think they can provide security in Sweden that we can’t?”

“Good point.” McBride glanced at his watch. “We need to get some sleep.”

They stood.

“Just a warning,” Hunter said, pointing to Javier. “You made prime time.”

“That’s what I hear.” Javier already knew.

Nate had called an hour ago to tell Javier that his face was all over the television. Thanks to Channel 12, where he’d made the mistake of introducing himself, all of the stations had reported his name, broadcasting it to the world together with live-action footage and still shots of him throwing Laura to the ground, covering her body with his, and getting her out of the line of fire.

“You’re in it now, bro,” Nate had said. “All the same, I’m glad you were there. You were the first one to react. You saved her life.”

Javier hoped the brass at NSW felt the same way.

Yeah, right. You’ll be lucky if they don’t hand you your ass.

“Thanks for what you did today, Corbray.” McBride shook Javier’s hand. “Nate said you were the best, and now I see why. I’m glad we’ve got you on our side. If you ever leave the Teams and need a job, you know where to find me.”

CHAPTER

16

LAURA SAT ON the edge of her bathtub hugging her bathrobe around herself, fighting hard to hold herself together. “Was anyone else hurt . . . or killed?”

Javier knelt on the floor in front of her with a first-aid kit, dabbing antibiotic ointment on her skinned knee, his hands in white sterile gloves. “A reporter got creased by a ricochet, but he’s going to be fine. McBride says he’s already home.”

“So many people might have been killed.

You

might have been killed. Oh, God, Javi, if you’d been shot—” The thought stopped her breath cold.

“I wasn’t.” He looked up at her, his brown eyes warm. “Let’s stick with the positive, okay?”

“Okay.” She would try.

He studied the scratches and bruises on her knee. “I think you need to ice this. I didn’t mean for you to get scraped up.”

“Next time you shove me out of the path of a bullet, be gentle, okay?” She gave him a smile, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. “You saved my life.”

“Walking in those damned shoes saved your life.”

“I’ve never been graceful in heels.”

“Thank God for that.”

From somewhere out in her bedroom, her cell phone rang.

“Who is calling this late? Did you talk to your folks?”

“Yes.” Her mother and grandmother had been asleep, so they’d gotten the news from her. They’d been very upset, of course, and had asked her again to come back to Sweden. “It’s probably Gary calling to apologize—or make excuses for himself. I should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise. I’ve seen him do that before. I just didn’t think he’d do it to me.”

“That bastard is lucky he was in D.C. and not in the station tonight.” Javier peeled the tabs off an oversized adhesive bandage and stuck it carefully over the wound. “He and I would have had a serious confrontation.”

Somehow Laura doubted the confrontation would have been verbal. It touched her that Javier cared that much about her. He cared so much that he’d put his life on the line for her today. But she didn’t want that.

If anything happened to him . . .

She said the words she’d been meaning to say since they got home, words she’d thought about in the shower. “It’s probably best for you to go back to the ranch tomorrow. You came here to visit Nate and so far—”

“Whoa! What did you just say?” Javier’s gaze shot to hers. He sat back on his heels, his dark brows bent in a frown. “You want me to

leave

?”

She nodded, struggling to keep her tears at bay. “I-I don’t want you to get hurt, Javi. I couldn’t live with myself if you were hurt or killed.”

“Looks like we’ve got a problem.” He reached out, ran a gloved thumb down her cheek. “I couldn’t live with myself if you were hurt or killed when I was here and had the power to do something about it. I’ve seen that footage of your abduction at least a dozen times. Every time, I wished I’d been there to stop them. When I heard you’d been killed . . .

Shit.

” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not leaving you, Laura. I

can’t

.”

She closed her eyes, turned her face away, the guilt she felt for putting him in danger at odds with an overwhelming sense of relief to know he was staying.

He pulled off his gloves, twined his fingers with hers. “Hey, is my sweet

bella

worried about a big, bad operator?”