Page 27 of I’ll Be There (Montana Fire #4)

“I know you want me. It’s easy. I’m right here.” He kept waving his arms.

Liza screamed.

The shooter lowered his weapon.

No! I’m sorry, Liza. “Shoot me !”

The shot cracked the air, ripping through Conner’s bones even as he fell to his knees, his legs water. His hands crunched into the pavement, and the force of the impact blew him over, practically onto his face.

But he felt—nothing.

No searing pain. No hint that the shooter had— Oh no, oh, please! Conner shot up, found his feet. “Liza!”

She stood on the metal stairway, her hands cupped over her mouth.

What—?

He turned again to the roof, to where—

Gone. The shooter had vanished.

Micah hit the roof. “He’s down! Shooter’s down!”

Conner couldn’t move. He watched as Micah ran over, bent, as if checking the shooter’s pulse, then kicked the weapon away. “He’s dead! Kill shot, to the head.”

Micah stood there, at the edge of the roof, hands on his hips, the perfect target, and for a second, Conner hit his feet. Get down!

But...nothing. No sniper shot cracking the air, his best friend tumbling from the roof.

Just seagulls, flying overhead, calling out warning.

Someone, somewhere—

Then Liza was screaming his name, running across the parking lot, straight at him.

She barreled into his arms, her legs locked around his waist, hitting him so hard she nearly knocked him over. She buried her face in his shoulders, shaking.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay. I’m okay—” He had only a moment to dip his head, let his heart restart before—

“We need help here!” John and Casper carried Reuben down the stairs, Seth and Pete on their tail.

In a second Liza had unlatched herself. “Go—”

“I’ll be back—”

“Go!”

Conner sprinted across the lot, caught Reuben around the body. Seth clambered down right behind them, lifted him from the other side.

“Hospital. Now, ” John said, and nodded toward the truck in the lot.

Which apparently belonged to him, because after they’d hustled Reuben over, John jumped into the driver’s seat. Conner climbed in, cradled Reuben’s head in his lap, and held him as the rest of the guys leaped into the back.

John took off before they were fully in, but Pete and Seth scrambled on along with Casper, who was probably familiar with his father’s driving.

The hospital might have been more than a mile away, but they reached it in less than a minute, and miraculously, the ER staff waited with a gurney. Probably alerted by a timely call from Darek or one of the group.

They hauled Reuben out of the truck, then into the ER.

A female nurse pushed them out of the room. “Let us work.”

The door closed with a quiet swish behind her. Conner stared at it a full minute, just breathing before he whirled.

With everything inside him, he slammed his fist into the wall. White-hot heat exploded through his hand, but he didn’t care, just shook it away, bouncing back, the fire thick in his veins.

Pete, Seth, and Casper stepped away.

He stood there breathing until finally, trembling, he turned his back to the wall and slid to the floor. Roughed his hands over his head, his face. “I should have never let him walk away.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, “Let who walk away?”

Liza stood in the hallway, banked by Jed and Micah. Romeo came in a step behind them, pocketing keys.

Conner looked up at her, those beautiful brown eyes that now held a sharpness he’d never seen before.

“Liza—”

“You tell me what is going on right now. Right. Now.”

Pete blew out a breath, cupping a hand behind his neck.

Micah reached out to touch her arm, but she ripped it away from his grasp.

Her voice turned lethal, low. “Out. Everyone, right now .”

Conner closed his eyes as his compatriots abandoned him to his once and maybe never bride.

“Please, just tell me everyone got out alive.” Conner looked up at Liza, and his eyes held every nightmare she’d endured as she’d watched him fling himself onto the street, as she’d climbed through the hole Darek and Jed had hacked through the wall—so fast, it seemed the wall had never existed—and abandoned the man she loved in a burning building.

She’d barreled into the escape, found Raina, baby Layla, and simply tried to hold herself together until Conner appeared, wrestled through the hatch by his guys.

He’d collapsed on the floor, writhing against the coughing that spasmed his chest, a growl rumbling through him as they splashed water on his eyes.

Blood saturated his shirt, his hands— please, let it not be his! That thought couldn’t cling, however, not with smoke seeping in from the pizzeria, not with Conner bouncing to his feet, following Micah outside. Outside—into the range of a second shooter.

Of course, he’d leap head first into danger. She’d only barely registered Micah as he ran back, picked up a board, grabbed a scarf, and lit it on fire. As he returned to the door and flung the torch out into the parking lot. It took a couple beats after they vanished to do the math.

Smoke.

Cover.

No... no!

She’d gotten up, the horror drawing her to the door to watch her reception tent become an inferno below.

The fury of the blaze pinned her there just as Conner jumped out from behind a truck. As he actually shouted at someone to shoot him.

What kind of man did that?

The kind, clearly, who had no regard for himself. And now, that thought sunk her to her knees beside him. She found her voice. “Yeah, everyone’s okay. The Deep Haven EMT is there, and when I left, they were checking everyone out. We’re...we’re okay. But you’re bleeding...”

He sat staring at his hands. Blood grooved the lines, running down his sleeve, pooling at his wrist.

“You’re shot! ”

He shook his head. “Just a graze. It’s nothing.”

For a brutal, raw second, Liza realized this moment just might define the rest of her life.

Conner, injured and black-faced, crumpled on the floor while one of his buddies fought for his life in the ER.

Her, arriving late on the scene to try to scrape up the details, piece back together not only her fractured nerves but somehow figure out how to hold together the shattered yet furious man whom she’d chosen to love.

A man who looked at his wounds and declared them nothing.

Only twelve hours ago, she’d woken in this very hospital and decided she could join Conner in his life.

Maybe not.

But, she didn’t have to dissect her future right now.

At this moment, Conner seemed to be visibly shredding, his reddened eyes tearing through a soot-blackened face, maybe even one of his hands broken, the way he held it, possibly without even realizing it.

Horror—part fury, part disbelief—radiated off his trembling shoulders.

She took a breath, wanting to touch him, yes, but the adrenaline had caught up with her, too. “What were you thinking? ”

“I didn’t want to scare you. I thought...he was watching you, Liza. I heard your conversation.”

Ho- kay , so they weren’t communicating. “No,” she said. “No—what were you thinking jumping in front of a gun, asking to be shot? ”

His mouth opened. Closed. “I couldn’t think of anything else. He had the rifle aimed at you...”

Oh. Because she’d come outside. She swallowed, her throat on fire, eyes burning. They sat alone in the ER, but she knew the guys itched to stalk the halls, stand sentry over Reuben.

She whisked her hand across her cheek. “So, unravel this. Who was watching me? What conversation did you hear?”

Conner scrubbed a hand down his face, leaving bloody, blackened lines, like some ancient warrior.

“Today, this morning. When I met with Blankenship, the NSA investigator. He tried to convince me that I had my facts all wrong—but then, told me to back off. To let it go, walk away.” He lifted his eyes, searching, pained, in hers.

“Then he took his cell phone off mute, and I heard your voice. You were talking about the Devil’s Kettle, and eating dinner at—”

“Naniboujou. Yeah, I remember.” His words sent a cold finger down her spine. “Are you saying that the tourist was really there to...threaten me?”

“And me,” Conner said. He reached out, as if to touch her hair, then let his hand drop. “It worked. I realized, right then, that I couldn’t keep chasing a ghost, or let my past shadow my future. I did want to let it go, Liza—you need to believe me—I meant what I said.”

She caught his hand, because the tenor, the agony in his voice, could push a burr into her chest, make her weep. “I do believe you. This wasn’t your fault. But—why do you have to be the first guy to jump in front of the shooter? Twice, you were going to sacrifice yourself—”

“Because he was going to shoot you! And burn the rest of us to death!”

She kept her voice quiet. “I know.”

And it hit her then. She did know. Maybe always had, but perhaps she simply needed to be reminded of it, see it in action.

Let it sink in, claws and all, to her heart.

Conner would always be the first one to jump into danger.

Despite his love for her, despite her worry for him—he couldn’t help it.

She should have seen it in him that day he showed up on her beach, three years ago, grimy, sooty, on the raw edge of surviving a flashover.

Or the day just last summer when, out of desperation and terror, she’d called him for help.

Only for him to drop out of the sky and risk his life to save her.

He might not realize it, but he lived for this life.

The life that pushed him to be better. To keep his promises, unspoken, to his buddies, himself. The ones that said he would leave no one behind, and not go down quietly.

Inventor, computer hacker, Green Beret, smoke jumper.

Brother.

She touched his face, ran a thumb across his grimy beard. “I know.”

He just stared at her, a crease between his eyebrows, confusion in his eyes.

“You need to finish this.” Oh, she couldn’t believe she’d actually said it—the words squeezing out between the tightening planes of her chest. “You need to find this Blankenship and bring him in.” She swallowed. “You’re pretty sure he’s the one who killed Justin?”

He nodded, muscles tight along his jaw.

“Okay then.” She got up, glanced toward the door, and met the gaze of Jim Micah.

Micah came in, followed by his own private army. “Any word on Reuben?”

Liza shook her head. Pete went over to stand by the ER doors, staring into the room, swallowed hard. Jed shadowed him, same dark posture, grim expression.

Micah knelt beside Conner. “Now what?”

Darek and John Christiansen had remained outside and met an ambulance pulling up under the alcove. Liza half heard Conner’s reply as she watched the ambulance doors open, and Raina and Layla piled out. An oxygen mask was affixed to Layla’s face as an EMT carried her into the ER.

Tears ran in furrows down Raina’s face as she ran into Casper’s arms. He held her hard, shaking. “Please tell me you’re okay,” he said, his voice rasping.

“Yeah. Layla has some smoke inhalation—”

Liza reached out her hand and Raina took it, squeezed, then followed the EMT into the ER.

Pete had edged into the room, arms folded in a clasp over his chest. The ER nurse came up, took his arms, and pressed him back out of the room. “He’s holding on,” she said right before the doors closed.

A truck pulled up, and out of it emerged Grace, Yulia, Ivy, baby Joy, and Tiger.

Two strides, and Darek swept up his family. They stood under the bright lights of the entry, a huddle of relief, Darek’s shoulders visibly shaking.

John had his arm around Ingrid, brought her into the hallway. “Are you sure you don’t need to get checked out?”

“I’m fine.” She glanced at Liza then, and gave her a sad smile. Liza cuffed a hand over her mouth and in a second, found herself in Ingrid’s embrace. “We’re okay. Thank God, we’re all okay.”

Only as Ingrid released her did she see Kyle stride in. Out of uniform, but with work in his eyes. “Conner. Micah—come with me. We need a statement. And we have a possible ID on the shooter.”

Conner eased up beside her, and she didn’t even bother to suggest that he get his wound checked out. Even if he bit back a groan as he followed Micah down the hall.

Liza gave Ingrid’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be up later. I need to—”

“Go.”

She followed Conner out of the hospital, was halfway into the parking lot when he glanced behind him. “Liza—no. Go up to the Christiansens’.” He turned then, caught her by her upper arms, pain in his eyes. “Please, I need you safe.”

“I saw him.”

He just blinked at her.

“The shooter. I saw him. I talked to him. I thought maybe you’d need me to confirm—”

“I have a picture,” Kyle said, rounding back to them. He dug out his cell phone. “This guy. Was this the guy you talked to?”

She stared at the picture—a man in a white baseball cap—and her mouth opened. “No. This wasn’t...I talked to a different guy. This guy was sitting on a rock not far away from me. Just watching the waves. I talked to a different man.”

She looked up then, and noticed Conner’s stricken expression. “What?”

He drew in a breath, glanced at Micah. “Three of them?”

“I dunno, man,” Micah said.

“What did he look like—this man you talked to, Liza?” Conner had her hands now, running his thumbs over the top of them.

“Um. Tall. Fit. Sandy brown hair, blue eyes. I don’t know—a tourist. He wore a Life is Good T-shirt.”

“And this other guy—the guy in the photo?”

“He was...just sitting there. I met eyes with him and he said hi. Smiled. I don’t know—he didn’t look like someone who wanted to kill anyone.”

Conner groaned then and pulled her to himself. And she simply leaned in, hung on, listened to his heartbeat. Needed to hear it, to feel his arms protecting her.

To cling to him one final time.

Then, he sighed and put her away. Caught her face and met her eyes. “Stay with Pete. And Darek and Jed.”

She nodded. “And you come back alive.”

A smile jerked at his mouth, then died. He reached up, touched her hair, rubbing a thick swath between his thumb and finger.

Then he let go, turned, and strode over to Kyle’s truck. Climbed in without a backward look.

She stood for a moment, arms tucked around herself, feeling the heat of his body dissipate.

Come back alive.

She took a breath and was turning to head back into the hospital when she spotted him. Standing just outside the rim of light from the ER entrance, a shadow, watching. He still wore the Life is Good T-shirt, but had added a blue baseball cap over that sandy brown hair.

He crossed the light, headed for her, and she couldn’t move. Not even when he reached her. He stared down at her, his blue eyes meeting hers.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.