Page 92 of Fatal Intent

She froze. “You’re sure?”

“No way a good-old-boy with a rifle made that shot.”

“We already suspected he was trained.”

“Sure, but the shot at my father was about half a mile from the house.”

She uttered a soft whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The physician returned. “All right, Mr. Bowen. They’re ready for you.”

“How long will the surgery take?”

“Two to three hours, depending on the amount of damage from the bullet.” He glanced at Rayne. “If you’ll wait in thefamily waiting room, a nurse will keep you apprised of Mr. Bowen’s condition during surgery.”

She shook her head. “I need to be closer than that, sir. Grant’s life is in danger. I can’t protect him from the family waiting room.”

“Although I understand the precaution, you can’t be in the surgical suite.”

“I planned to wait outside the operating room door. I can watch for any suspicious activity. If someone finds another way into the operating room, I’ll be seconds away instead of a couple of floors.”

The ER doctor stared at Rayne a moment, then nodded. “I think we can accommodate you. There is a second door into the operating room. Would you like me to ask a security guard to stand watch at that door?”

Relief untied the knot in her stomach. “I’d appreciate that, sir.”

“I’ll take care of it. By the time Mr. Bowen is out from the anesthesia, the guard will be in place.”

Rayne trailed the orderlies as they guided the gurney through busy hallways, into an elevator, and through more corridors until they reached the surgical suite.

Grant held out his hand to her. When she took it, he said, “I’ll be back soon.”

“You better, Mr. Bowen. I have big plans for you.”

He grinned. “Oh, yeah? Can’t wait to find out what they are.” Grant sobered. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, and I have your back.”

The orderlies pushed the gurney through the doorway, and they were gone.

Rayne leaned against the wall across from the operating suite and settled in for a long wait. Although the doctor said the surgery could take up to three hours, she wondered if itmight take longer. If the bullet nicked something vital on the way through Grant’s body, the repair might take longer than expected.

She slid her phone from her pocket and called her boss.

“Yeah, Maddox.”

“It’s Rayne.”

“Sit rep.”

She summarized the events that had unfolded after the operatives arrived at the Bowen house. “Grant believes the sniper was aiming at Teagan.”

Her boss growled. “Is she all right?”

“Sore in a couple of places where Grant tackled her. Otherwise, she’s fine.”

“So he took a bullet meant for her.”