Page 79 of Velvet Vaughn

Chapter Sixteen

The new house sat at the end of a gravel lane in Wildwood, screened by fifty yards of hardwoods on every side and a locked gate that required a code. Morning light filtered through the trees as Remi eased the Escalade to a stop in front of a stone and wood ranch house that looked more like a glamping hunting lodge than a COBRA Securities safe house.

“No neighbors for half a mile.” Remi killed the engine and scanned the tree line. “One road in, one out.”

“Defensible.” Anja climbed out, taking in the sightlines, even with exhaustion dragging at every muscle in her body. Dense woods surrounded the property, broken only by the lane, limiting the angles of approach. A single gravel driveway meant anyone coming for them would have to commit to it early, with no cover once they hit the open yard. “I like it better than the last one.”

“The last one had a wine cellar,” Leo remarked, wincing as he shifted his bandaged arm. “This one has bears, probably.”

“This one has trees a sniper can’t shoot through.” Anja turned to help Leo. She placed her hand under his good elbow, even though he didn’t need it, because some part of her that had nothing to do with tactics wanted the contact. “I’ll take bears over what we left behind.”

Inside, the house smelled of wood smoke. Leo eased himself onto a barstool while Remi rummaged through a bag he’d grabbed from the back of the Escalade, pulling gear from a suture kit. His movements suggested he’d done this more times than he’d probably admit.

They’d forgone the hospital since gunshot wounds had to be reported, and right now, it was imperative to keep Leo off the grid. Whoever was after them could have people anywhere.

Remi snapped on a pair of latex gloves and nodded toward the bandage. “Let’s see it.”

Leo peeled back the dressing, and Remi turned his arm gently toward the light. “Clean channel. You got lucky. Muscle only and no fragments.”

“I don’t feel lucky. Mostly, I feel like I got shot.”

“You did, so don’t make a habit of it,” Anja told him.

Remi threaded a needle without ceremony. “This is going to hurt worse than if you’d gone to the ER. They have the good drugs. I’ve got lidocaine and whiskey.”

“I’ll take the whiskey.”

“I lied. You’re getting lidocaine.” Remi worked with quick, economical stitches. Leo’s teeth clenched through most of it. Anja stood close with a hand on his good shoulder, not because he needed assurance but because she did.

“You’ve done this before,” she observed.

“Ranger medic training, plus a couple of field patch jobs that never made it into any official report.” He tied off the last stitch and taped fresh gauze into place. “You’re good to go. It shouldn’t leave too disfiguring a scar.”

“Comforting,” Leo muttered.

“That’s my jam.” Remi peeled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash. “Now that you’re no longer leaking, I’m making a supply run.”

Anja glanced over. “For what?”

Remi waved a hand at his smoke-stained clothes, then at hers and Leo’s. “Unless the three of us plan to spend the foreseeable future dressed as survivors of a structure fire, pretty much everything. We passed one of those twenty-four-hour places where you can buy underwear, motor oil, and a rotisserie chicken under the same roof.”

Leo checked his shirt. “I was starting to think this was working for me.”

“It’s not.”

“Good to know.”

“The safe house has toothbrushes and basic toiletries, so I’ll grab clothes, socks, chargers, and whatever else the fire ate.” Remi pulled out his phone. “Text me sizes and whatever you absolutely can’t live without for the next forty-eight hours.”

“Coffee,” Leo answered.

“That’s not clothing.”

“I heard “absolutely can’t live without.’”

Remi weighed that. “Fair.”

Anja reached for her phone. “Keep it quick. Cash if you have enough, and make sure you’re not followed back.”