“That’s because you’re paranoid. But in this case… I need you to grab your kit. All of them. And I need you here five minutes, ago. Bring that O neg you have stashed in your fridge, too. And call Rigs and Midnight on your way over. This is big.”
“Harlequin’s already warming up my truck. I’ll be there in a flash.”
Cannon disconnected the call. “Considering the circumstances, we need to have a few contingency plans in place. Obviously, it all depends on whether Ice can treat her. But if he can, we should make it appear as if we took her to the hospital, regardless. In case whoever chased her is watching. We don’t want them to think we have any connection to her.”
Cannon smiled at Jericho, and Colt swore the man beamed. Actually beamed looking at the woman. “Think you can use your badge to get the hospital to do us a favor? Even without an actual body? Maybe put a Jane Doe in their books to buy us some time?”
Jericho shook her head in mock frustration. “And here I thought you’d stopped underestimating my abilities? You can carry me out once Ice gets here and doesn’t insist we haul her off to Harborview. Let them think I’m your vic. Either way, I’ll make sure there’s a Jane Doe registered. I can’t promise you more than a few days, but that should be enough to track down some intel, right?”
“It’s like you know me.” Cannon handed the phone back to Jericho, then palmed Colt’s shoulder. “Let’s get Ellis someplace more suited for Ice to treat her. Let him determine our next course of action.”
Colt gathered her against his chest, then stood. Damn she was light—light and limp and too damn right against him, herbreath caressing his neck. Her hair soft against his skin. Even out cold, she was stunning, not that this was the time to notice.
Thankfully, Cannon had expanded the upper section of the warehouse—incorporated two more loft apartments. Colt had commandeered one, Six the other. It made sense when they seemed to spend twenty hours a day working. The other four keeping an eye out for anyone who might come looking for them, or Jericho. Being a Deputy U.S. Marshal, the lady had more than her fair share of threats, and there wasn’t a chance they’d let anything happen to Cannon’s girl.
Cannon hadn’t actually phrased it that way. Not when Jericho would likely kick his ass. But that didn’t alter the fact that they belonged to each other—had the kind of relationship Colt had thought he’d found with Ellis.
He’d been wrong, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want Cannon to get his happy ending. That his buddy didn’t deserve to have the kind of life Colt had envisioned.
So, taking Ellis tohisquarters seemed logical. Seemed fitting. Of course, Six had already anticipated Colt would head for his place, not Cannon’s—had already cleared off the table. Laid down some sheets. Had the first aid kit open. Some of the items placed to one side beside a bowl of water.
Colt eased her onto the surface, careful not to jostle her, then went to work. Blood loss seemed the most pressing issue, not that being shot wasn’t a concern. But after over a decade in Delta—experiencing a lifetime’s worth of violence—he’d gotten good at judging a fatal wound from a non-fatal one. The angle of the twin punctures suggested the bullet had ricocheted—exited her side. It was gaping and definitely needed stitching, but it wasn’t life threatening. If it had been, she never would have made it this far.
Christ, how long had she been running? He glanced at her feet—at the ragged strips wrapped around them. They werebruised, but the shirt sleeves she’d used to protect them had done the job. Saved her from getting any serious lacerations.
He frowned. He didn’t remember learning that in the Teams—might not have taken the time to cover his feet. He’d been trained to fight through pain. Ignore it. There was always time to worry about how much it hurtafterreaching safety. When anything short of death could be fixed. And seeing as she hadn’t been Special Forces… Made him wonder where she’d undergone the additional training. The kind that screamed she was no longer a soldier. That she’d been recruited by a different kind of organization.
Jericho stood across from him, gently cleaning some of the more superficial wounds as Colt stemmed the bleeding on her side. “I realize this isn’t the time to ask who this woman is or how you know her, but… Do you know which agency she’s with?”
Colt snapped his head up. “You think she’s CIA?”
“CIA. MI6. Interpol. Maybe Secret Service. I don’t know which one, but she’s definitely an operative. Not sure what kind. If she’s just an analyst or a field officer. But… See those marks behind her ear.”
Colt slid his glance sideways. Noted the series of lines barely visible along her hairline. “Yeah. Some kind of weird tattoo?” It was new. He’d memorized every inch of her, and she hadn’t had so much as a birthmark marring her smooth skin.
“It’s just speculation, but I’ve heard that some operatives have a sort of barcode put on them. A way of accessing key information in an emergency. I’m not exactly sure how it works—how she’d access it. And I doubt it’s anything worth getting killed over. Most likely a secure place she’s keeping passports. Money. A couple of choice weapons. Just enough to get her to safety. Keep her alive for a while.”
“That sounds like something out of a damn movie.”
“There’s a bit of truth in all those spy films. Trust me.” She tilted her head, giving Ellis the once over. “I’m assuming since you guys know her, she’s on our side, right?”
“Ellis is a lot of things, but she isn’t a traitor.” At least, he didn’t think she was. Ditching him because he was the son of a serial killer was one thing. Understandable, even if she had been cold in how she’d ended it. Changing her loyalties… That was an entirely different beast. And not something Colt would have thought she was capable of.
Jericho winced at his harsh tone. “I didn’t mean to imply… Like I said. This isn’t the time. I just thought her company might want to know she’s okay. It looks like she’s been missing a few days, based on how deep the marks are on her wrists and ankles.”
Cannon wrapped his arm around her. “We can worry about that after Ice lets us know how bad this is. If he can treat her, here.”
“As I’ve informed you all before, the hospital is always the best choice. But you damn fools keep getting yourselves involved in dangerous shit that makes that impossible.”
Colt looked up as Ice walked into the room, one huge black bag slung over his left shoulder. Another smaller one in his other hand. His wife, Harlequin, followed behind him, carrying a cooler. Most likely the blood Cannon had asked the guy to bring. Which Ellis needed before she was beyond any kind of help.
Shit, Colt couldn’t think that way. Sure, he hadn’t seen her in five years. Hadn’t gotten so much as a text or message from her since the letter. Had spent most of that time cursing her, torn between wanting to strangle her and kiss her. And in reality, he hadn’t really known if she was alive or dead, but…
He knew, now, and damn it, he wasn’t about to just stand there and let her die. Because he’dthoughtabout her constantly. Had woken more nights than he wanted to admit longing forher—the remembered feel of her in his arms driving him crazy. She might have walked away, but her memories had stayed—had planted freaking roots and flourished in her absence. So, seeing her lying there, bleeding. Her chest barely rising with each labored rasp… It messed with his head. Tightened his chest until it was all he could do to draw in air then push it out.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned as Ice moved in beside him. The man nodded, then calmly took over. Hanging some blood. Starting an IV, then taking her vitals. Hell, he didn’t even look as if he was worried. As if his heart was racing or his hands were shaking.
Colt’s were. Not a lot. Maybe not even noticeable to his buddies, but Coltfeltit. The icy slide of fear down his spine. The cold beads of sweat along his skin. How his heart pounded against his ribs, making his pulse throb inside his head. All his years in the service, and he hadn’t ever felt this…
