Texas Bodyguard--Luke, page 9
He was quick, though. Trained. A fist came flying toward Luke’s face.
A swift block and ignoring the screaming pain from his shoulder, Luke nailed his opponent with an uppercut. The man staggered back. Luke followed, hitting him with a right hook.
The punches had the intended effect—Ballard’s man hit the ground, knocked out cold.
But the fight had taken a toll on Luke, too. Hot, sticky blood dripped down his hand. It had been a bad idea to strike with that arm. He drew a deep breath, trying to stop his head from spinning. A tug on his hand brought him back to his senses.
Claire.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” No. He needed to sit down. Needed to get this bleeding under control. Needed to take a moment and regroup.
And maybe he would’ve if it was just him on his own. But he couldn’t. He had to get Claire to safety.
“Is that policeman...?”
“Dead? I don’t know. But we can’t wait and help him, not if we want to get away.”
He took out his burner phone. It wouldn’t be much use any longer anyway, now that he’d used it to call Brax. He dialed 9-1-1 again. As soon as the responder picked up, he spoke.
“Officer down behind the Wars Hill library. He’s been shot.”
He ended the call immediately before the dispatcher could ask questions and grabbed Claire’s hand. It would be only moments before the 9-1-1 dispatch notified the police already on the scene here. Calling might have been a mistake, but if there was anything that could be done to save that cop, Luke had to take that chance. Hopefully, it would be enough.
But he and Claire had to get out now.
They moved slower along the bushes toward the street on the east side of the building. Luke didn’t want to take a chance on stumbling into another one of Ballard’s men. The odds of him winning a second fight in his shape were slim.
And Claire would be unprotected.
But if they kept moving this slowly, they might get caught anyway. Luke was slowing them down. Running was not an option. The way the night was spinning, fast walking was barely an option.
He squeezed her hand as they passed by the alleyway. They just needed to make it a few more blocks.
But he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to.
“You need to run. Leave me behind. Get farther into the main section of town. You know your way around, you can hide.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to. I don’t think I’m going to make it much farther.”
They only needed to go another mile or so, but that seemed impossible. Ten more steps seemed impossible.
She slipped her arm around his waist, tucking herself under his good shoulder. “Lean on me. Just take it one step at a time.”
“Go without me.”
“You’re wasting time and energy arguing, Patterson. I’m not leaving you, so we either both stay here or we both go.”
He almost smiled at her bossy tone and took a step forward. And another.
Praying none of Ballard’s men would find them, he kept moving forward. Left down a dark block. Right down a second alleyway. His legs weakened. His arm burned like hell. He couldn’t stop, though. Wouldn’t let anything happen to Claire. Kitten.
Were they far enough? He had no idea where they were—walking along some empty street. Had no idea how much time had passed since they left the library. Five minutes? An hour? Ten years?
He had to stop. He leaned heavily with his good shoulder against a parked semitruck that shielded them from anyone on the street.
“You keep going.” The words sounded raspy, breathless, not like his voice at all.
She ignored his statement, tentatively touched his shoulder, making him wince. “It looks bad.”
“It’s okay.” A lie, but what else could he say?
All he needed was a few minutes. A place to rest until he regained his strength.
He couldn’t contact his brothers—he’d had to dump the burner phone. They couldn’t make it back to the truck.
Think, Luke. Think.
He couldn’t. He slid to the ground.
It felt so damn good to sit. He closed his eyes. One second of rest. Maybe two...
Something fluffy brushed against his chest. Khan’s tail.
Good doggy.
“Bandage it... Shirt is dirty...”
Claire’s voice went in and out, impossible to follow.
“We need to go.” Planting his palm against the cold metal of the truck, he pushed himself to standing.
And promptly collapsed toward the concrete, the world spinning uncontrollably around him.
Chapter Twelve
“Luke!” Claire caught him before he hit the ground.
His weight bowed her over. Using all her strength, she got him back to sitting, his back propped against the truck.
The streetlight at the end of the block shone on his shoulder. The cut gleamed, shiny and dark.
She’d thought about putting her shirt on the wound, but it had gotten so dirty from crawling out the window, it would probably cause infection.
His head lolled to the side. “Kitten.”
Khan spun in a circle, his dance move when anxious. He could tell something was wrong.
A ball formed in Claire’s throat. She had to get Luke somewhere safe. She hadn’t seen any sign of Ballard’s men in the last thirty minutes, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still searching for them.
She was going to have to take Luke to the hospital, and hope nobody would come looking for them.
She trailed her fingers through his hair, then cupped his cheeks. “Luke. I need you to listen to me, okay?”
His brown eyes blinked open at her. They were glazed with pain, but he was still with her.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No. Find us too easy.”
“We have to. You need stitches.”
He grabbed her wrist where she cupped his face. “No. Too dangerous. Promise.”
Damn it. He was probably right, but she had to do something. Get him somewhere they were inside and safe. They didn’t have enough money left for another hotel—and Ballard would undoubtedly be searching any nearby establishments for check-ins anyway.
All right, no hospital. No doc-in-a-box, either. They would want names, insurance info, stuff that went into a computer and would enable Ballard to find them.
Khan rubbed up against her. “Where would you want to go if you were hurt, Khan?”
A vet. Of course. That’s it!
“You’re a genius, Khan.”
The cat continued to prance around like he was well aware of the fact that he was amazing.
She’d spent a lot of time in the neighborhood they were in. After leaving Skyline Park, the first foster family she’d gone to had lived only a couple miles from here.
And then, the summer after high school, she’d worked at the independent vet just up the block. It had been one of the happiest times of her life—waking up early and spending her days with animals.
The first time she’d seen a Maine coon in person was when someone brought theirs in with a hurt paw. She’d fallen in love with the breed right away and started saving that night in order to buy her own one day.
“Luke. Listen.” She bowed her head so they were eye to eye again. “There’s a vet’s office near here. It has an apartment garage we might be able to get into. It’s only a couple of blocks away. Can you walk that far?”
For a second she thought he was unconscious again, but finally, he nodded gingerly. “Yeah.”
“Great.” Scooping a hand under his good arm, she helped him stand.
Years had passed and she didn’t even know if Dr. McGraw’s practice was still open. Back when she worked there, he’d converted the space above the detached garage into a studio apartment. On nights when he worked overtime and was too tired to commute home, he stayed there. But that had rarely happened on weekends. He’d wanted to be home with his wife because the grandkids came over.
They walked slowly in the correct direction, her carrying as much of his weight as possible.
This plan had a lot of unknown variables. She prayed it would work, because otherwise, she didn’t know what she was going to do.
Khan circled them as they walked, darting ahead and coming back to check on their progress. It was slow going, and every time headlights appeared, they ducked behind the nearest vehicle or trash can.
They turned a corner and she glanced behind her and saw the orange of the fire in the distance. The sight made Claire’s chest ache. Her beloved childhood safe haven was gone.
Ballard’s men may have been the ones who’d started the fire, but Claire had been the one who led them to that building. And now Luke had been hurt because of her.
She pushed the feelings down. Right now she had to focus on getting them somewhere safe. Luke’s wound seemed to have stopped bleeding. He was conscious but still so very weak. He’d always taken care of her, and now it was time for her to do the same for him.
It was dark in the veterinary clinic. It sat next to a house that had been renovated into a beauty salon, across the street from a local hardware store. Luke was on the last of his reserves as they made it down the narrow drive between the salon and the clinic to the garage in the back.
She let out a sigh of relief when there were no lights on in the garage or the studio apartment that rested above it.
She set Luke at the bottom of the wooden steps that went up the side of the garage.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Luke as he slumped on the stairs. Khan sat down at his feet.
“I’m coming with.” Luke grabbed hold of the weathered railing and started to pull himself up. “Not...leaving you.”
“No, you’re staying.” She put a hand on his chest, and he stilled. “I’ll be right back. I can move faster without you.”
A quick kiss to his lips revealed they were cold. Not good. They had to get him inside pronto. The fact that he didn’t argue further just proved that point.
She took the steps two at a time. Cupping her hands around her eyes, she pressed against the window on the door and peered into the apartment.
The vague shapes of furniture rose from the dark room. She didn’t see any people—just a lot more boxes than had been around when she worked there.
She reached over to the light fixture and ran her fingers under the edge, letting out a shuddery sigh of relief when she found the key in the same place Dr. McGraw had always kept it.
With shaking hands, she unlocked the door and let it swing open, listening for any sounds before stepping inside.
“Hello?” Nothing. She went in and looked around. It was empty. Thank God. She turned and hurried back down the steps.
Khan was still standing guard over Luke. She wrapped her arm around his torso while he held on to her shoulder. “Come on, it’s empty.” They slowly made their way up the stairs. “And tomorrow is Sunday. If Dr. McGraw didn’t spend tonight here, he won’t come in tomorrow.”
At least, she hoped that was still true. If not, the police would just have to add breaking and entering to their list of reasons to arrest her.
The studio apartment wasn’t much. Boxes and supplies took up one entire wall. There was a small full bed in one corner and a love seat in front of the TV in the middle. She helped Luke sit on the carpet, leaning his good side against the couch so he wouldn’t get blood on it. Khan started his rounds, sniffing the corners of the room, while Claire closed all the blinds.
Once she was confident no light would escape the apartment and give away their presence, she switched on a standing lamp. The paleness of Luke’s face was striking, made even more prominent by the dark circles under his eyes.
“We need to get your shirt off so I can see the cut.” Sitting on her knees next to him, she helped remove it. He winced when he had to move his hurt arm but didn’t make a peep.
His shirt was completely ruined and most of his back was covered in blood. She gasped when she saw the cut. It wasn’t very deep, but it was long and had to be painful. “Luke, you need stitches.”
“No.” His voice was thin, weak. “They’d put my name in a computer. Ballard would have us in thirty minutes.”
“Luke...” An invisible weight pressed against her throat and chest. He was too big for her to force to a medical facility.
She gritted her teeth, hating that it was her situation that was causing him literal physical pain right now. Her situation that meant he couldn’t get the help he needed.
“Let me see what I can find.”
Rooting around in the cabinet under the sink, she found a fully stocked first aid kit, as well as some protein bars and nutrition drinks. Those would help his body begin to replenish everything it had expended.
When she returned, Khan had stopped his exploring and sat next to Luke, licking his hand.
She opened a drink and handed it to him before settling cross-legged behind him. She pressed a clean piece of gauze to the cut but fresh blood quickly seeped through.
She changed out the gauze and applied pressure the best she could as he finished one nutrition drink and she handed him another one.
“How’s it looking back there?”
He finally sounded like Luke again, like he wasn’t about to keel over. But she still had to tell him.
“It looks like this gauze isn’t enough. You need stitches. Really, Luke.”
“Okay.”
“We can go to the hospital?”
“No, you’re going to use that suture kit over there and do it yourself.”
She looked over to where he was pointing, and sure enough, resting on one of the boxes of supplies was a sealed suture kit for the clinic.
She shook her head frantically and scooted back from him. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t know how to give someone stitches.” She was glad for the nutrition drinks and that a chance to rest had him feeling better, but this was crazy.
“When you worked here at the vet clinic, did you ever see them stitch up an animal?”
“Sure, a lot.”
“It’s the same concept. Basically, just sewing. I had to do it once in the army when our medic got injured while we are on a mission. He talked me through it. I can talk you through this.”
“If you’re Hannibal Lecter,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “That was the other guy. Hannibal just ate them.” He turned so he was facing her more fully. “I know this is gross, but it’s our best bet.”
“It’s not that it’s gross...” she whispered. “It’s going to hurt you.”
He leaned over and kissed her tenderly, his full lips soft against hers. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can, Kitten. I trust you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Her hands shook as she got the kit and cleaned out his wound. She knew it had to hurt every time the needle pierced his skin—it hurt her just to see it—but he never gave her any indication of distress.
“How did you end up working here?” he asked when she let out a distressed breath at the start of the third stitch.
“It was the summer after my freshman year in college. The Romeros, my last foster family, were nice enough to let me come back and live with them after my first year at school. They didn’t live too far from here, so it was a fun and convenient summer job.”
She winced as the needle pierced his skin again and she pulled the string to pull the edges of skin together, then tied it up with a knot.
“That’s good. My parents, Sheila and Clinton Patterson, are big fighters for older-age adoption and foster. One of their biggest causes was that kids needed a family, even after they aged out of the system. They still need somewhere to go when they’re young adults... The need for a support network doesn’t change just because you turn eighteen.”
“Yeah. The Romeros were good. I haven’t talked to them in the while. I probably should.”
She started another stitch.
“So, you liked working here?”
“Absolutely. The first time I ever saw a Maine coon was here. I even thought I might want to be a vet for a while, but I knew that would take a lot of schooling. Plus, I was already really good at computers.”
“Chance and I both went into the army straight out of high school. Brax and Weston went on to college.”
“No college for you?”
“I finished my associate’s degree in business, but I’m not a huge fan of sitting in classrooms. I’d rather be out crawling through burning buildings and dodging bullets.”
She laughed as she finished another stitch.
“The army gave me a purpose. I was always pretty physically strong and had good hand-eye coordination and spatial awareness. I was good at reading people and recognizing threats. It would’ve made a good skill set for working for someone like Ballard, or the equivalent. Being in the service helped me hone a sense of honor. Clarified the path that Clinton and Sheila started me on. I got out with the skills and purpose I needed to start San Antonio Security with my brothers.”
“And you like it? It’s done well?”
“Being in business with family always has its pros and cons. For example, none of us like to do paperwork and this month it’s my turn. I’d honestly rather sit here and let you do this to me for the rest of the month than have to do all the filing that’s waiting for me at my desk. So if we get this murder charge cleared up, we might have to rob a bank or something just so I don’t have to go back to the office.” She laughed again and finished another stitch.
“Maybe that’s how I’ll have to pay you back for helping me—paperwork.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe I’d wish it on Ballard. Except for what has happened over the last few days, have you liked working at Passage Digital?”
