Читать книгу Covert Christmas - Hope White - Страница 11
ОглавлениеWith a shaky finger on the canister, Bree reminded herself to breathe. Would there be enough pepper spray to immobilize two men if they both came down?
I can do this. I am a strong woman.
The echo of barking dogs sparked relief in Bree’s chest. The SAR team was closing in on her location.
“Wait, listen. Dogs, a pack of them,” the husky-voiced guy said.
“Wild dogs?”
“No, idiot, search-and-rescue dogs. I saw their van at the trailhead. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“What about—”
“Forget it. Let’s go.”
A few minutes passed, silence ringing in Bree’s ears. The gunmen weren’t coming down to investigate; she and Blue Eyes were safe for the time being. Now, to make sure he didn’t lose too much blood while they waited to be rescued.
The thought snapped her into action. She radioed her position to Grace and dug in her pack for her first-aid kit.
“Grace, the victim will need medical assistance, over,” Bree said.
“What’s his condition, over?”
“Head injury and gunshot wound. I can deal with the head injury, over.”
She pulled out an antiseptic wipe and winced as she cleaned the man’s head wound. It was pretty bad and would probably need stitches. In the meantime she applied a butterfly bandage.
His eyes fluttered open. “Who...are you?”
“Breanna, but you can call me Bree.”
“Bree...anna,” he whispered and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Now comes the hard part,” she said to herself. His arm. She’d taken first-aid classes, sure, but a gunshot wound wasn’t exactly standard practice.
“Bree, this is Trevor. How’s his airway and breathing, over?”
“Seems okay. He’s in and out of consciousness. He suffered a head injury, but I’m more worried about the gunshot wound to his arm, over.”
“Apply pressure to slow the bleeding,” Trevor said. “If it’s a through-and-through apply it to both entry and exit wounds. If he goes into shock, cover him up if his skin’s cold or remove outer gear if he’s hot, over.”
“Thanks, over.”
“We’re a few minutes away. Hang in there, over.”
“I’m actually about five feet below the trail, over.”
“Copy that,” Trevor said.
Bree refocused on tending her patient. She pulled out two spare T-shirts and a scarf. She slid his jacket off, and ripped the material away from his wound, which wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought. It looked as though the bullet had grazed the skin of his upper arm, but didn’t pass through his flesh. She wrapped one of the shirts around his arm and secured it with the scarf.
Rinsing blood from her hands with water and antiseptic, she caught herself humming, a coping mechanism she’d developed to stay calm. Only now did she realize what she’d done: saved a man’s life, and her own, from armed gunmen.
Up to this point she’d been going through the motions in a detached state, as if she were watching a movie. She’d felt this kind of detachment before. It had been a tool to numb herself to a brutal, violent scene. And there were plenty of those when she’d dated Thomas.
“No reason to think about that,” she said, shaking off the unpleasant memories.
Right now, at this moment in time, she was okay, the stranger was relatively okay, and help was close. She could fully freak out and process all this later when she got back to her cottage at the resort.
She pressed the back of her hand against the man’s cheek to determine if he was going into shock.
“You’re cold, all right.” She pulled a thermal blanket out of her pack and covered him up. “Hang in there, buddy. Help’s on the way.”
* * *
The most beautiful sound floated across his mind.
The sound of a woman humming.
She hummed a familiar Christmas song, only he couldn’t remember the title. He cracked open his eyes but all he could see through blurred vision was a bright mass of gold.
“Hey there,” she said.
He thought she smiled but couldn’t tell for sure. Her voice sounded throaty, yet feminine, and he wanted to hear more of it.
“I...” is all he could get out.
“You’re going to be okay.”
She was wrong, of course. He knew she was wrong, yet he couldn’t explain why. They were both in serious danger and had to get out of here.
“Trip...”
“I would have tripped too if I’d been chased by those goons,” she said.
“Have to...go.” He struggled to sit up but a firm hand pressed against his chest.
A firm, yet calming hand placed directly over his heart. “It’s okay. Those guys are gone. We’re safe and help is coming.”
He believed her. He didn’t know why. He was not the type of man to trust easily or believe strangers, especially not a woman.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He blinked a few times, struggling to make her face come into focus.
“My name?” he said.
“I’m Bree, remember?”
He didn’t remember Bree, he didn’t remember much of anything.
“I can’t... Don’t remember.”
“Not even your name?”
He shook his head, exhaling a quick breath of panic.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Her soft warm hand stroked his cheek in a soothing gesture. He closed his eyes, fighting to remember who he was, where he was from and why he was here with this woman.
“You’ve probably got a concussion. With a little time it will come back to you.” She ran her fingers down his hairline to his jaw. Once, twice. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
But it wouldn’t be okay, not unless he... What? What was he supposed to do?
Blinking his eyes open, his gaze landed on her smile. His vision was clearing. That had to be a good sign, right? This view was definitely a good thing. A beautiful woman stared down at him, offering a warm and caring smile. She wasn’t glamorous like a cover model. She was adorable, a girl-next-door type of beautiful you read about in novels but wondered if they really existed.
“Your eyes look better,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his face.
He wanted to beg her to continue the nurturing gesture, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Begging a woman for anything felt wrong, and downright stupid.
“I can see you,” he said.
“That’s awesome. How’s the pain on a scale of one to ten?”
“Pain?”
“Your arm, your head?”
“Were we...hiking together?”
“No, I was out here for a search-and-rescue training mission and saw you fall.”
“I fell?”
“Yes.”
He struggled to remember why he’d come out here in the first place. His gaze drifted beyond the woman to the brilliant shades of green surrounding them. It was so peaceful out here, so serene.
“One to ten?” she prompted.
He redirected his attention to her. “What?”
“Your pain?”
“Seven?”
“There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest and it will all work out.”
Honest? Was she kidding?
“That bad, huh?” she said.
“What?”
“The pain. You made a face like someone shoved a lemon in your mouth.”
“Yeah, I guess it hurts,” he said, concerned that she was able to read him so easily.
“Well, it’ll probably get worse before it gets better. We’re going to have to lift you out of here and carry you down the trail to an ambulance.”
“No hospital.” He’d be an easy target for sure. But for whom?
“Sorry, Blue Eyes, but a gunshot wound warrants a trip to the E.R., and probably a meet-and-greet from the local police.”
“But—”
“Save your strength.”
She placed her hand against his chest again, this time gently patting him in a rhythm that soothed him into a state of relaxation. His eyes drifted shut.
* * *
Pain speared down his arm to his fingertips.
“Ah, God,” he breathed.
But God couldn’t help him, not after everything he’d done.
“Take it easy,” a woman’s stern voice said. “You’re hurting him.”
It was the blonde from before. What was her name again?
He opened his eyes. Struggled to focus. But everything seemed to bounce around him. The sky, the trees, the blonde beauty.
“Hey, Blue Eyes,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
He wanted to reach out but his arms were bound to a board of some kind. He must have looked panicked because she slid her hand into his and squeezed.
“We had to secure you to the litter so you’d remain as still as possible. We don’t want you losing any more blood than necessary. Okay?” She smiled.
“Okay,” he thought he said. Closed his eyes. Listened to the conversation around him.
“Why can’t they send a helo?” the woman said.
“No place to land up here. The ambulance is waiting,” a male voice answered.
“I’m afraid he’s losing too much blood.”
“His vitals are good.”
“Will they—”
“Bree, take a breath. He’s alive. You’re alive. All is well.”
* * *
Something pinched his arm. He opened his eyes. “What, ouch.”
“Hello, Mr. Smith,” a young female paramedic said. “I’ll call you Mr. Smith because we couldn’t find any identification and it seems more dignified than calling you Mr. Blue Eyes.” She sneered at the cute blonde woman standing on the other side of him.
Her name, he desperately needed to remember the blonde’s name.
“Are you allergic to any medications?” the paramedic asked.
“I don’t...think so.”
“Can you tell me what day it is?”
His gazed drifted past her to the lush forest in the distance. They were outside, surrounded by green. How did he get here again?
“Sir?”
He glanced at the paramedic, a twenty-something brunette with a tattoo of a butterfly on her neck. “It’s daytime.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
He glanced at the blonde beauty. She offered an encouraging smile. It didn’t help.
“How about your name?” the paramedic said.
“I told you he doesn’t remember,” the blonde said with an edge to her voice.
“Sir, do you know where you are?” the paramedic tried again.
“Mountains,” he gasped, hating the sound of his voice. Weak. Defeated.
“What city or state?” she asked, administering something into his IV.
“I... Washington?”
The blonde beauty offered a bright smile. He could look at those green eyes, that joyful smile all day long.
“Do you remember the trailhead or mountain you went climbing this morning?”
He glanced at the blonde. She started to mouth something.
“Bree!” the EMT scolded. “No cheating.”
“Sorry.” Bree put up her hands.
Bree, that’s right. A charming name.
“Okay, let’s get you into the ambulance.” The paramedic nodded at someone behind him. The stretcher shifted slightly, then he was lifted up into the ambulance.
“Bree,” he said, panicked. He reached out hoping to touch her again, feel her calming presence.
“It’s okay. I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she said.
He may not make it to the hospital. He didn’t know the brunette with the butterfly tattoo. He didn’t trust her.
“Bree.” He struggled to sit up.
“Easy there, Mr. Smith. You don’t want to pull out your IV.”
“Bree,” he croaked, desperate, trying to roll off the stretcher.
Suddenly she was beside him, holding his hand.
“Right there is fine,” the paramedic ordered Bree, then said to the driver, “Okay, Roscoe, let’s go.”
He turned his head to the left, needing to see Bree, look into her green eyes. Green like the forest. Her image started to blur again. He was losing focus, losing consciousness.
“I can’t... Bree...”
He closed his eyes, but felt her squeeze his hand.
“What’s happening to him?” she asked.
“It’s probably the pain meds,” the paramedic said.
“But he should stay conscious, shouldn’t he? Especially if he has a head injury?”
“Calm down, cuz. He’s stable. It’s all good.”
He was drifting in and out, picking up only pieces of conversation.
I couldn’t let him die.
Two gunmen?
He wasn’t with them; they were after him.
That was foolish.
I don’t care. He needed me.
You don’t even know him.
He squeezed her hand, struggling to stay connected, to stay conscious.
“It’s okay,” a woman whispered against his ear.
It was Bree’s voice. He’d know it anywhere.
He couldn’t remember his own name, where he’d been or how he’d ended up in an ambulance. Those three things should drive him to the brink of despair.
But they didn’t because Bree was here. He took a deep breath, clung to her hand and drifted.
* * *
“You’ve upset him,” Bree snapped at her cousin Maddie.
“Right, so it’s not the bullet wound or head injury that’s got him freaked out,” Maddie said, sarcastically. “Look, I shouldn’t have let you ride along in the first place, so stop busting my chops.”
“I’m worried about him.” She noted Mr. Blue Eyes’ skin looked pale.
“He’s not your problem.”
Bree ignored the comment and stroked the back of his hand.
“Bree?”
She glanced at her cousin, who frowned with concern.
“You didn’t see him, Maddie. He was so—” Bree glanced at the bruise forming around his head wound “—broken.”
Maddie reached over and touched Bree’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
With a nod, Bree glanced back at the stranger. They both knew Maddie’s words referred more to Bree’s terrible Thomas past than the current situation.
“He’s okay,” Maddie said, pausing as she unbuttoned his shirt. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“He’s got a lot of redness on his chest and stomach, like he was beaten up.”
They pulled up to the hospital.
“This is as far as you go, sorry,” Maddie said.
The back door opened. Two sheriff’s deputies stood there, along with Echo Mountain Police Chief Lew Washburn, and Wallace Falls Police Chief Charles Trainer, who Bree’s family fondly called Uncle Chuck.
Two officers and two police chiefs? Blue Eyes must be in big-time trouble.
“Bree,” he groaned, opening his eyes.
Maddie shot Bree a disapproving look.
“I’m here,” Bree said, squeezing his hand.
The other paramedic came around and helped Maddie lift the stretcher out of the ambulance. Blue Eyes didn’t release Bree’s hand.
Uncle Chuck approached. “Breanna, we need to—”
“I’ll be right back,” she interrupted.
She walked alongside the stretcher, offering words of comfort to Blue Eyes. “You’ll be okay. They’ll take care of you here.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I’ll stay close, promise.”
“You’ve got to let him go, Bree,” Maddie said as they wheeled him into the E.R.
Bree released his hand.
“No, Bree,” he gasped, and the look in his eyes nearly tore her apart inside. Pure and utter devastation coupled with fear. She’d seen that look...in the mirror.
She motioned for her cousin to stop the stretcher and Bree leaned close to the stranger. “I’ll be right outside. Let them fix you up so you can get out of here and do something fun.”
“With you?”
Bree shot a quick glance at Maddie and looked back at the stranger. “Sure.”
“You won’t leave me?”
“I won’t leave you.”
He released her hand and they wheeled him into the examining area. Bree automatically reached for her locket, praying for guidance. Had she done the right thing by making that promise? Of course she had, because it had calmed him down enough to release her and get much needed medical attention.
“Breanna?”
She turned to Uncle Chuck and Chief Washburn.
“Hey, hi, Uncle Chuck.” She gave him a hug. Chuck had been a friend for years and helped out after Dad had passed away.
They broke the hug and she nodded at Lew Washburn. “Hey, Chief.”
“Let’s sit down and you can give me your official statement.” Chief Washburn motioned her to the waiting area.
Breanna hesitated, not wanting to break her word to Blue Eyes.
“We’ll be close to the examining room,” Chief Washburn said.
With a nod, Breanna accompanied them to the waiting area, positioning herself so she could keep an eye on the door.
“Do you know the victim?” Uncle Chuck asked her.
“No.” Although she felt oddly connected to him in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Tell us what happened,” Chief Washburn said.
As Bree retold the story, she clicked into that distancing mode, the place where it felt as if she was talking about someone else.
“You jumped out of the tree to help him, knowing he was being pursued by two gunmen?” Uncle Chuck said.
She didn’t miss the disbelief in his voice, nor the disapproval.
“They would have killed him,” she said.
“They might have killed you,” he scolded.
His tone sparked shame through her body, but she pushed it aside. She would not feel ashamed for saving a man’s life.
“They were far enough away that I didn’t feel I was in immediate danger,” she said. “I thought I had enough time to help the man hide until authorities arrived.”
“When I tell your mother—”
“Please let me do it. I’ll call her as soon as we’re done.”
Bree surely didn’t want people tattling on her, although considering how many people had probably heard about the morning’s events, Bree suspected Mom already knew. Small towns were like that.
“What else can I tell you?” She directed her question to Chief Washburn.
“A description of the gunmen.”
She described what they looked like, trying to recall details from when she viewed them through the binoculars.
“One of the men said ‘he’s gonna want proof,’” Bree said.
“You were so close that you could hear what they were saying?” Uncle Chuck’s voice pitched.
“Uncle Chuck, I’ve been through a traumatic event. It’s just now hitting me how dangerous it was and you’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry.”
But it was natural for him to worry. He was protective of the McBride clan.
“Let’s all take a breath,” Chief Washburn said. “Breanna’s okay, but we have two gunmen on the loose and we need to involve as many law enforcement personnel as possible to track them down so no one else gets hurt.”
“They had accents,” Bree said.
“Foreign or...?” Chief Washburn asked.
“Midwest, Chicago. You know that nasal A sound?”
“Okay, that’s good.” The chief wrote something in his notepad. “As I understand it, there was no ID on the victim?”
“That’s right.”
“Did he tell you his name?” Chief Washburn asked.
“He doesn’t seem to remember it.”
“Convenient,” Uncle Chuck muttered.
“He’s got a nasty head wound,” she said defensively.
The E.R. doors opened to the outside and she spotted a familiar group of people: the SAR K9 team, along with Bree’s brother, Aiden, and their mom. So much for Bree calmly breaking the news to Mom about today’s events. Bree’s best friend, Billie, and her fiancé, Quinn, were also with the group.
Aiden marched up to Bree, who put out her hand in a stop gesture. “I’m fine, but I need another minute to give my statement.”
She didn’t miss Mom’s worried frown, or the angry twist of Aiden’s mouth. He’d better not be angry with her or she’d let him have it. Bree had been holding it in these past few hours, trying to remain calm and levelheaded for Blue Eyes. It wouldn’t take much for her to lose her cool, especially with family who she knew loved her no matter how cranky she got.
Bree finished describing the two men. Chief Washburn asked, “About the gunshot victim, any idea who he is or why he was assaulted?”
“No, sir. He didn’t say much, although he said a name, Emily, and that he’d keep her safe.”
The chief jotted something down. “Did he have a backpack?”
“No, sir. Maddie the EMT made a comment about his chest and torso looking red, too, like he’d been beaten up.”
“And he said nothing that would give us a clue what he was doing out on the trail?”
“No, sorry.”
“It seemed like he’s bonded with you,” Chief Washburn said.
Mom and Aiden were within earshot, but she didn’t care. “Yes, sir, I believe he has.”
“He trusts you?” Chief Washburn said.
“He’s scared. He can’t remember anything, even his name, and he’s in a strange hospital with multiple injuries. He needs to trust someone.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Chief Washburn said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Even though this could be a dangerous man?”
“We don’t know that.”
“Someone was shooting at him,” Uncle Chuck interjected.
“I know,” she said, glancing at him, “I was there, remember?”
Bree wasn’t usually a smarty-pants, but she was tired of people passing judgment on her. They’d passed judgment on her relationship with Thomas, which is one of the reasons she’d stayed silent about the emotional abuse for so long.
A few people had also given her a hard time about no longer doing hair when she’d moved back to town, instead choosing to be a groundskeeper, working for her brother who managed Echo Mountain Resort. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about Bree’s life. Some days she wished they’d all spend their energy worrying about themselves.
“I can’t make any sense out of your behavior today,” Chuck said.
“Why don’t you go check on Margaret?” Chief Washburn suggested to Uncle Chuck.
Chuck had obviously lost objectivity in regards to this situation because of how much he cared about Bree’s mom. It was the worst kept secret in town.
Chief Washburn closed his notebook. “I’m going to assign an officer to watch over the victim. I’m sure your family is going to encourage you to detach from this situation.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Because?”
“I feel a connection to him.”
Chief Washburn studied her and waited for more.
“I know what it’s like to feel lost and vulnerable,” she said, “to feel so scared and there’s no one to help you. I’ve been there.”
“Well, truth is your connection to this man could be my best lead, but I won’t be responsible for stirring up trouble between you and your family. If you stick close to him and discover anything that might help with my investigation, please call me.” The chief handed her a business card with his office and cell numbers.
“Of course.”
He hesitated before standing. “Breanna, you are a remarkably brave woman.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She glanced past him at the group of family and friends in the waiting area. They probably wouldn’t call her brave or applaud her decision to help the stranger.
Bree had survived a violent event, yet had kept it together long enough to give her statement to police. She needed time alone to regroup, a few minutes to let the reality of her situation wash over her—but in private so she wouldn’t get emotional in front of her family.
“Hey, Chief, I need to use the washroom. Would you mind telling my family I’ll be right back?”
“Sure.”
Bree slipped away, hurried down the hall into the single-stall bathroom and locked the door.
She was okay; everything was fine. She studied her reflection in the mirror. The chief would circulate a description of the attackers, and Blue Eyes would get his memory back and help them figure out why someone had tried to kill him.
No matter what her family said, she knew in her heart she’d done the right thing by helping him. She wouldn’t allow her overly protective brother to make her feel guilty or ashamed by her actions.
Splashing cool water on her face, Bree considered the words she’d spoken to Blue Eyes. I’ll stay close, promise.
Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, but she desperately wanted him to get medical attention and it seemed as though promising to stay close was the only way to make that happen.
“Looks like I’m hanging around for a while,” she whispered to herself, because Bree didn’t break promises, even to strangers.
This should be fun, explaining to her family and friends why she was sticking close to a man she barely knew. Make that a man she didn’t know at all, heck, she didn’t even know his name.
She pulled her hair back, spread gloss on her dry lips and applied a little blush to look healthy, not exhausted. They’d be waiting and wanting details, a reason as to why she’d jump into the midst of gunfire. The only explanation she could offer was that it was the right thing to do.
“Don’t second-guess yourself,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. That behavior had gotten her into trouble before.
She grabbed her pack and left the bathroom. As she ambled down the hall, she took a deep breath and touched her necklace for strength.
Her family and friends were passionate about keeping her safe because they loved her.
Love, a complicated emotion.
She glanced up and noticed a man leave the E.R. examining room heading in her direction. Boy, it was busy tonight at the Echo County E.R.
She politely smiled at the man as he passed, and he nodded in return. Distracted by thoughts of defending herself from her family, it took a few seconds before she realized he looked familiar.
“I was about to come find you,” Aiden said, walking up to her.
In a flash it hit her: the man she just passed was one of the gunmen.
And he’d come out of the examining area where they’d taken Blue Eyes.
“No, no, no,” she muttered, shoving her brother aside.
“Bree?”
She rushed past him and flung open the doors to the examining area. The curtains were pulled back and all the beds were empty.
