Page 42

Chapter 41

Jude

I wiped the dirt from my stinging eyes. Where the fuck was Mila? The noise had escalated to a roar, with shrieking tires and shots ringing through the trees.

My head was fuzzy and a searing pain tore through my thigh. I pressed a hand to the injury, and when I discovered the blood, my heart dropped.

My jeans were torn. All I could see was blood and dirt.

But none of that mattered. Mila was all I cared about. I had to find her. Protect her.

I got to my feet and grasped a sapling to steady myself. I scanned the area for Mila, somewhat relieved to see law enforcement flooding the clearing. There were people everywhere. I limped toward the action, calling her name as I maneuvered down the small embankment toward where the trucks were parked.

She had to be here. She had to be okay. I wouldn’t entertain any other option. I would find her and I would get her out safely.

The police were so busy slapping cuffs on the men who hadn’t run and chasing those who had that they paid me no mind as I limped toward the action.

I was cresting a small hill when I saw her. She held her shoulder as she walked quickly toward the building with a man wearing a vest and a badge.

I let out a sigh of relief. Good.

I picked up my pace, practically jogging, ignoring the unbearable pain. She was safe. I just needed to get to her.

As they turned a fraction, I recognized the man she was with. Portnoy.

Even better. I didn’t like the guy, but surely he’d keep her safe.

I slowed to an awkward walk and stumbled out of the way of trucks speeding from the scene. I rounded the building in the same place where Mila had a moment ago, finding several men on the loading dock. They were hefting massive rubber totes into a truck.

And the director of the FBI field office in Portland was standing right alongside them.

My stomach dropped.

The hand Portnoy had on Mila’s shoulder was not protective like I’d thought. No, he was pushing her toward the building.

I took off running again.

“Mila,” I shouted.

She turned, her face etched in pain, scratched and dirty and drawn.

“Jude, no,” she cried, violently shaking her head.

Portnoy jerked her shoulder, causing her to cry out, and pointed his weapon at me.

On instinct, I threw my hands up.

“Bryce,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Great bust, man. But Mila and I need to get out of here.”

He laughed. “No. She’s getting in the truck.” He nodded toward where the men were furiously packing boxes. “I’ve been looking for this bitch for more than a year.” He grabbed her by the hair, and she let out a cry. “You have caused me so many fucking problems. But don’t worry. We won’t make the same mistake we did with your brother. You’ll actually be dead by the time we’re done with you.”

His expression was cocky, his body language overly confident. It was the look of someone who knew they’d already won. Like a lifelong bureaucrat, the kind of bland guy no one suspects. For years, we’d cooperated with him, trusted him to protect us, and he’d been a criminal all along?

Bile crept up my throat as Mila and I locked eyes. I had no weapon, no training, and a pretty severely wounded leg. But I’d be damned if he hurt a hair on my girl’s head.

Silently, she pleaded with me, giving her head a small shake. She didn’t want me to get hurt. I understood that. But given the stakes, there was no other choice.

Portnoy was preoccupied with the packing of the truck as I crept forward slowly, closing the distance between us. He had the gun in one hand, but his finger wasn’t on the trigger.

He didn’t regard me as a threat. Perfect.

I looked at Mila again, lifting my chin, signaling to the gun. Her eyes widened, as if she understood what I’d discovered. I raised my eyebrows. His hold on her was no longer painful. He assumed she’d go along with his demands. God, was he wrong.

My girl was not great at following directions.

When I was a few yards away, I gave her the signal.

As she grabbed his arm and forced it up so the gun was pointed at the sky, I ran at full speed, crouching down and leading with my shoulder.

When my body made contact, a shot went off, but I was too adrenalized to let it slow me down. As we fell to the ground, I threw punch after punch and took my fair share too as we grappled for control.

Mila was screaming, and more shots rang out, but I was completely focused on a single goal. Pounding this fucker into the ground so he could never hurt anyone again.

I’d never been a fighter. I was the calm guy who de-escalated. But the rage firing in my veins knew no end. He’d pointed a gun at Mila. He’d threatened her and my family. This was fucking over. I’d be certain of it. If I ended up in jail because of that, it would be worth it.

I was stronger, but he had more training, landing several blows and reaching for the gun that lay a few feet from us. Twisting my hips, I managed to get an arm free. I grabbed him by the hair and hit him square in the face before he could get it.

A smallish black boot appeared in my periphery, stepping on the weapon.

“Bryce.” The voice was feminine and familiar.

Taking what felt like my first breath in minutes, I looked up. Parker stood above us, in a vest, with her badge around her neck, gun pointed directly at us. Despite the melee, she looked nonplussed.

“Fuck off, Harding,” he hissed.

“It’s Gagnon now.” The words were followed by the telltale click of a safety being released. “Get your dirty ass up.”

Ignoring her, he threw an arm around my neck and cocked his fist back.

“I will shoot you, asshole. You know how accurate I am.”

With a palm to his face, I shoved him off me. As I was backing away, Mila rushed to my side, collapsing into my arms.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” Portnoy sneered. “You’re a nobody rent-a-cop now. I’m gonna get in my truck and drive to the border, and you’re not going to stop me.”

Parker barked out a laugh. “Funny. Now get up. I want to slap the handcuffs on you myself.”

“You never were good at this job,” he blustered. “We both know this case is full of massive holes. So you can either let me go now or watch me walk out of a courtroom in a year or two when all this bullshit evidence blows up in your face.”

Mila stiffened next to me, and I held her close.

“Put your hands up,” Parker said, taking a step closer without lowering her weapon. “God, you’re insufferable. Guess I should have learned my lesson back when you were the world’s shittiest boyfriend. Now you’ve upped the ante and had to be a dirty criminal too.”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“Nah, I’m good. And trust me, when my head hits the pillow every night from now on, I’ll sleep well knowing how they treat cops in prison.” She smirked. “Now get up. If I shoot you in the head, it’ll mean more paperwork for me.”

I pulled Mila’s shaking body close. She was crying, her hands twisted in the fabric of my jacket. But she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Parker lifted the radio strapped to her shoulder without taking her gun off Portnoy. “Bring my Tahoe around. I’ve got a VIP criminal here who needs a ride to the station.”

It was satisfying, watching Parker cuff Portnoy and shove him by the head into her vehicle while gleefully reading him his Miranda rights. But the sensation paled in comparison to having my girl in my arms. She might have been a bit bruised, but she was okay.

“You need a medic,” Parker said, nodding at my leg. “You got shot.”

Frowning, I looked down at my bloodstained jeans. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the relief of knowing Mila was safe, but I had barely felt anything. I touched the area, and it burned. Shit, I guess I really had been shot.

Mila gasped and pulled away, clapping her hands to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears again. “Oh my God. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

“I’ll have someone take you straight away. We’ll be here cleaning up this mess for a while,” Parker said, radioing one of her deputies.

With my arm around Mila again, I limped around the side of the building to where the police were taking photos and loading dozens of people into cars.

The warehouse was even bigger up close, and it was filled with giant pallets wrapped in plastic. “You know,” Parker mused, “I expected the shitload of drugs. The illegal weapons are just icing on the cake. The ATF guys are gonna have a field day when they get here.”

She opened the back door of a black SUV. “Office Fielder here will stabilize the wound and then get you to the hospital.”

“Thank you.” I nodded at Parker as Mila tried to force me into the vehicle.

The last thing I wanted was to let go of her. Fielder was a good guy and I trusted him, but all I wanted was to go home and take my girl with me.

“Looks like you got grazed,” he said, applying a clotting agent to the wound once he and Mila had finally talked me into climbing in. “You did good, son. Heard you charged at a gunman like a crazed bull.”

I laughed, though the pain that rocketed through me had me biting back the sound. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I was fading fast.

Once he’d bandaged the wound, he closed the door and rounded the hood.

Tucked safely in the back of the car, I closed my eyes. It was over. Mila was safe.

“I love you,” she whispered, her head on my chest. “But did you seriously run at a guy with a gun? That was really stupid, you know.”

“It was teamwork,” I said. “You grabbed his arms so he couldn’t shoot me.”

“You saved me.”

I kissed the top of her head. “We saved each other, Trouble.”