Читать книгу Broken - Rebecca Zanetti - Страница 16

Chapter Eight

Dana finished typing the intro to her story, trying to ignore the remaining cinnamon roll on the table. Pippa could sure bake. Dana had never experienced much success in the kitchen, but she’d never really tried, either. There was always another story to chase, and this one mattered.

She paused. It was time to diagram some of the information. Standing, she stretched her neck. Wolfe had said he’d turned the guest room into an off ice, and hopefully he had a notepad in there she could borrow. She hadn’t realized hers was full. Just as she turned, her phone buzzed. She read the screen and then lifted it to answer. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Hi, honey. Your dad wanted me to call. He’s out fishing early on the river.” Her mom’s voice was distracted.

Of course he was. Dana turned away from the tempting treat. “I hope it’s a good catch.” Her dad was a river and fishing guide.

“Me, too.” Dishes clinked across the line. “Anyway, somebody has been calling here for you. A man saying he has information for a story, and your dad told him to go fall off a cliff. But he keeps calling, so we thought you should have the number. Now, don’t call him. Or if you do, use a pay phone.”

Dana tried not to chuckle, although her instincts had started humming. “I’m not sure there are any pay phones around anymore, but I’ll be careful.”

“Is this for a story?”

Hopefully, but probably not. “Sure. Isn’t it always?” Dana forced humor into her voice, even though her stomach began to ache.

Her mom rattled off the number.

Ah, crap. It was Mike’s phone number. The guy just wouldn’t give up, and now he was harassing her parents? She needed to take care of him and soon. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry my sources are bugging you. I’ll handle it.”

“I’m sure—just be careful in case this has to do with one of those dangerous stories you like to investigate. By the way, Lissa and the musician broke up, thank goodness. Katie won’t fill me in on her dating life, and I believe Charlotte is dating someone, but she’s being very mum about it. Quite annoying, if you ask me. How about you? Have you had any interesting dates lately?”

Did running out of a sex party with a hot ex-soldier count? “No. I’ve been working a lot.” What would her mom think about Wolfe? Not that it mattered, because he was just a friend. Still. It’d be funny to see her petite mother order Wolfe around. She needed to change the subject. “How’s your knee?” Her mom had fallen down a riverbank and pulled ligaments months ago.

“It’s good. I finish with physical therapy next week, and I should be able to raft again in a few weeks.” Her mom chuckled. “Before I forget, do I need to alter your dress for the wedding next Saturday?”

Dana winced. There wasn’t much that could be done with that dress. “How about you burn it?”

“You sound just like your sisters, and you need to knock it off. You’ll look beautiful, and you know none of us thought your cousin would ever get married. She’s, well, a lot.”

It was just like her mother to find a silver lining. Sally wasn’t a lot. Sally was the drama queen from the third realm of an entitled universe. “Uh-huh.” Dana pushed the cinnamon roll across the table. “The dress should still fit me. Haven’t changed much. Um, I am in the middle of—”

“A story? You’re always in the middle of a story. This is your cousin’s wedding, and you’re being honored as one of the bridesmaids.” The perfect amount of motherly guilt infused her mom’s chipper tone.

Really? Dana and her sisters were Sally’s bridesmaids because the whiny wench didn’t have any friends. It was revenge, darn it. She and Sally had never gotten along, but there was no excuse for that puke-green, puffy-sleeved dress. Plus, it was tight in the wrong places and wide in the others, which made her look like a waddling rotten kiwi. “I’ll be there, Mom. When is the rest of the gang getting in?” She missed her three sisters, and Katie definitely owed her a call. It had been a week, and they never went that long without talking, but things had been crazy.

“The twins arrive Thursday, and Katie gets in about the same time you do on Saturday morning, which really is cutting it way too close. Dad will pick you up at the airport. Also, I think I might’ve mentioned the Mulvaney boys are in town and will be attending the wedding.” Before Dana could protest, her mother continued, “Your dad is coming up from the bank with a lot of fish. I have to go, honey.”

“Bye, Mom.” Dana shook her head as she disengaged the call. “The Mulvaney boys. Right.” She quickly sent a group text to her three sisters that their mom was planning on matchmaking at the upcoming wedding and to be ready.

Various emojis and gifs quickly blew up her phone, ranging from eye-rolling to a giraffe vigorously shaking its head.

She smiled and turned again for the guest room. What had she been doing? Oh yeah. She needed paper to start diagramming the connections in her research because it wasn’t coming together for her. She rolled her shoulders and sucked in her stomach. The dress would still fit, right? Of course. Shaking her head, she strode around the sofa just as Kat leaped from a hiding spot behind the television. He landed on her shoulder and bounded off, rolling down the sofa and plopping on the far pillow with a soft meow.

She looked down. “You’re as crazy as Wolfe is.”

The kitten blinked pretty eyes, sneezed, and then started licking his paw, effectively dismissing her.

All righty, then. “As soon as he gets back, I’m going home,” she told the kitten, who still didn’t look up. She grinned and then pushed the door open. Fumbling for the light, she stepped inside, the carpet soft on her bare feet. Then she stopped cold, looking around. “Wow,” she breathed.

Guns and knives—all types of them—were mounted on the wall to the left, floor to ceiling. The next wall held a matching set of antique armoires that stood tall on either side of a window, underneath which was a short shelving system holding a laptop, printer, and various supplies.

It was the final wall that held her attention. She blinked several times at a wide, green glass magnetic board that took up the entire wall. Pictures, diagrams, notecards, and notes covered the surface with lines drawn between them. She’d never seen an evidence board so precise—and full. Albert Nelson’s picture was taped over to the right with one thick line drawn through it.

She swallowed. Who were the other people? A group of seven young soldiers in the desert, smiling at the camera, caught her eye. Wolfe was in the middle, and he looked . . . lighter. Happier. Then her breath caught as she moved to the next picture, which showed five coffins in an airplane hangar, all covered with the United States flag. Another picture, this one blown up, showed one of the guys from the team picture. Various lines connected his picture to other pictures, notecards, and documents. “You must be Rock,” she murmured. Just as she stepped closer for a better look, the front door banged open.

“Dana?” Wolfe bellowed.

She jumped and ran back through the living room, where Wolfe was helping a bleeding Malcolm West to sit at the kitchen table. Blood flowed down Mal’s face from a cut along his temple. Her stomach lurched. “What happened?” Her legs trembled, and she looked up at Wolfe’s hard face, not seeing the blood dripping down his arm for a minute. It caught her eye as red splotches fell onto the tile. “You’re injured, too.” Without thought, she reached for his wrist.

He pulled away and strode to a drawer by the door to the garage, returning with a first aid kit and clean towels. Even though he moved toward her, he felt miles away, and his gaze remained on Malcolm.

Dana hesitated, oddly hurt.

Wolfe handed an orange striped kitchen towel to his friend. “I’m sorry, West.”

Mal rolled his eyes and pressed the material against his head. The cotton quickly turned a deep red. “Unlike you, I wasn’t even shot. Glass from the window cut me.”

“You were shot?” Dana breathed. “Those guys in the truck shot at you again?”

“No,” Wolfe muttered. “Somebody else—who was probably there to take care of those morons.”

Mal grimaced. “I’m not sure we provided a public service by warning them to get the hell out of town.”

This was getting worse by the minute. Were those guys after her or Wolfe? Had they been attacked because of Albert Nelson and Candy’s story? Or because of Wolfe’s super-secret case? Questions zinged around in her head, but she had to make sure both men were okay before getting down to business. “Did you see who shot at you this time?”

Wolfe shook his head. “No. They just scattered bullets and then got out of there. We had to run to the truck, which was a few blocks away.”

They’d run bleeding like this? Dana ignored the way the room seemed to be swirling around her. “Are you two injured anywhere else?”

“No,” Malcolm said.

“You were knocked out, Mal.” Wolfe’s eyes had gone a deep hue, and his movements were stiff. Though he stood near them, somehow he seemed far away. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Mal wiped his forehead off, leaving a smear of blood across his eyebrow. “How bad is it?”

Dana turned and bile rose up her throat. The deep cut ran from his temple to above his eye, and it was still bleeding. Honestly, it was pretty ugly. She couldn’t see bone, but there was no way a bandage would keep that skin together. “You need stitches.”

Wolfe sighed. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”

“No. You stitch it up.” Mal pressed the bloody towel to his head again. “After you take off your shirt so we can see how bad you’ve been shot. We can go to the doctor for you, if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Wolfe all but snarled.

That was it. Just plain and simple it. The room smelled like blood and dirt, and she couldn’t take any more. Adrenaline raced through her veins, and her heart rate would not slow down. One or both of them could’ve been killed, and they were acting like it wasn’t the big deal that it really was. “Take off your damn shirt, Wolfe,” she ordered, pressing her hands to her hips. “You have two seconds. Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

He turned then, stepping into her space, his body vibrating and his eyes ablaze. “Try it.”