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Mentally bracing herself, she watched with dread as his right hand began to inch upward toward her. The challenge in his eyes never wavered. He was going to kill her in cold blood. Her own father. She felt a paralyzing fear trying to take hold. Then, it all happened as if they were in slow motion.
“No, Morgan!” Bash screamed from behind her. The ground almost vibrated with the steps approaching, but she never took her eyes off Kline.
With his gun almost level with her middle, Morgan held her breath, bracing for impact. Then she heard him again. Her protector. Take the shot, Chip. Now! And she did.
Two shots rang out simultaneously. Hers and another that came from behind her. One shot hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards. The other hit the tree behind him, exactly where he had stood moments before. She was filled with adrenalin and raw emotions, barely able to decipher what had just happened.
Bash flew past her and stopped beside Kline’s prone body. He swiftly kicked the gun out of the wounded man’s hand. Picking it up, he stuffed it in his coat pocket.
“Sebastian?” Morgan softly called his name, not sure if her eyes were deceiving her.
He knelt beside her and pulled her into his chest. “It’s okay, baby. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Feelings warred within her. She wanted to scream and cry and laugh and fight all at the same time. Maybe crawl out of her skin. Outrun her insides. But she was paralyzed. An invisible weight seemed to be bearing down on her. She glanced at Bash. He was beginning to blur. Her vision narrowed.
“Look at me, Morgan,” Bash instructed. His eyes searched her unfocused ones. “Oh, baby, you’re going into shock.”
Someone sat beside her and gently rubbed her back. “Morgan,” the voice said tenderly. “Can you hear me?”
Was it Max? She wanted to see who it was, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She detected movement around her. Agent Scott was still missing. Tell somebody. Find her. None of the words would come. Her vision became pinpoints. Then nothing.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Morgan passed out,” Bash shouted. “We need help.”
“Shock or possibly a concussion,” Max suggested, lightly running his finger over Morgan’s swollen right cheek and jaw. “Kline hit her pretty hard. He may have broken her jaw, the bastard. The police said a couple of ambulances should be here within the next ten minutes. The first two left with the wounded MC members and a police escort.”
Perez suddenly appeared behind Max. “We found Miranda in a ravine just north of here. She’s alive but not in good shape. Blunt-force trauma to the head. Awake but barely responsive. Sam and one of his men, who was a medic in the military, are with her until an ambulance arrives. How’s Ms. Skylar?”
Morgan began to groan, her eyelashes fluttering. When her eyes fully opened, she stared at Bash. “Agent Scott?” she asked.
“They found her. She’s alive. An ambulance is on the way. Just lie still.” Lightly rubbing her lips with his thumb, he fought back his own tears. He thanked God she was safe in his arms.
Bash rode with Morgan to the hospital in Bangor. She was lucid but had emotionally shut down. He intertwined his fingers with hers.
Tests verified Morgan was not concussed. There was swelling, bruising, and lacerations on the right side of her face. The worst damage was a hairline fracture on her cheekbone. Bash never left her side unless forced by medical personnel. He was more concerned about the mental injuries than the physical ones.
“Sebastian,” someone called his name through a fog.
He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes. He had dozed off in a chair, watching her sleep. Glancing toward the bed, he met her gentle blue eyes and a slight grin that warmed his heart. He reached for her small hand. Seeing her face continue to swell and change colors broke his heart.
“Are you in pain?”
“My cheek is throbbing, but it was nice to get a little nap.”
“I can call the nurse to get you some pain meds,” he offered.
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. No narcotics. I told them I only want ibuprofen.” He watched her pick at the blanket for a few seconds before she met his eyes. “Did Gia make it to Florida okay?”
“When Max let her know what happened, she insisted Sam’s guys bring her back.”
“You don’t have to stay. Gia is probably worried sick about you. Poor thing meets you one day after 34 years and almost loses you the next. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see me go.” She forced a lopsided smile.
Bash pulled his chair closer to the bed and tightened his grip on her hand. “That’s not true. Gia and Max came by to see you while you were asleep. The nurse forced them out. They will be back in the morning after you’ve had some uninterrupted sleep.”
“But they let you stay?” she whispered.
“I threatened to write a terrible review and post it on my social media accounts with over 3 million followers.”
