Page 6

Riley

“ S he did not get away,” I say again over the Bluetooth speaker in my rented truck.

“That’s what it sounds like to me,” Tucker replies. “Mr. Charming has finally met his match.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “I’m literally sitting outside the motel right now. I’ve been tracking her all day, but aside from throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her out, this was the next best option.”

“You said she was adamant about not going with you?” Bradyn, tone all business, speaks up.

“Yeah. She’s set on catching this guy herself.”

“What’s your opinion on the situation?” he asks.

I think back to the look on her face when I’d accused her of being the one responsible for her grandfather’s death. She’d been horrified; then that horror turned to anger. “We know she didn’t kill him. My guess is she’s suffering from a heavy dose of survivor’s guilt.”

“What makes you think that?” Elliot questions.

“Her determination,” I reply. “She’s an untrained woman dead set on finding a killer all by herself.

A killer who knows her face, but she claims to not have seen his.

So, if it’s not guilt, then either she knows more than she’s letting on, or she’s desperate to prove herself. Truthfully, it could be either.”

“Prove herself to who?” Dylan asks. “Her brother?”

“Maybe.” I lean back in my seat. “She was truly afraid of inadvertently bringing the killer anywhere near him. We know they had a falling out, so I wonder if this isn’t her way of trying to show him she’s changed.”

“By risking her life?”

“Wouldn’t be the craziest thing we’ve seen.” Romeo whines in his seat and then scratches the window with his paw. “Hey, I need to go. Call you guys back.” I end the call then peer out the window into the darkness.

It’s nearly eleven at night, and the parking lot of the old motel Jules chose to hide out in has been empty for nearly two hours. Aside from two men stumbling up to two separate rooms about an hour ago.

I narrow my gaze at the shadows where Romeo is staring and note movement that shouldn’t be there. “All right, boy. You ready for some action?” I check my weapon then open the door as quietly as I can.

“ Fuss , Romeo.” Heel. He leaps out of the truck and stays right at my side as we move closer to the building.

The man sneaks around the back, so I follow, sticking as close as I can to the shadows. Leaving my weapon at the ready but not raised in case it’s just another drunk stumbling in for the night, I come around the corner.

But the man is gone.

The alley is empty. There’s no way. Literally no way that he got out of this alley without coming back toward me. I look up and note the escape ladder half descended about four feet above my head.

“What the?—”

A scream rips through the heavy night air. I turn on my heel and sprint back around to the front of the motel.

Another scream.

My stomach plummets, and I take the stairs two at a time to the second floor. The door to Jules’s motel room is shut, but I don’t let that stop me. I slam my boot into the door, right near the handle. It splinters open, and I raise my weapon.

The room is empty except for Jules, who is cowering in the corner, face pale, hands pressed to her abdomen.

“ Such , Romeo,” I order in German. Search. My dog takes off through the room, checking the corners and beneath the bed, as I follow directly behind him. “Where did he go?” I ask her.

“Bathroom,” she manages.

I check the handle, but it’s locked. Since asking him to open the door and having him listen is a long shot and will waste time Jules likely doesn’t have, I slam my boot into the door again. Wood cracks as it pops open, and I rush in.

The bathroom window is wide open, but there’s no one inside.

Who is this guy?

I lock the window so he can’t come in behind me then rush out to the living room and sink to my knees at Jules’s side.

“I got him,” she says with a smile. Her breathing is ragged, and with the placement of her wound, I can only imagine the damage done.

“Looks like he got you. I need you to lie back.” I lift her from the floor and lay her on top of the mattress.

“No. I got him,” she says again. I glance down at her hand and note the bloodied knife still clutched in her palm.

“That’s his blood?”

She nods. “You can find him now?” Her eyes start to close. She’s lost a lot of blood, and my QuikClot kit is downstairs in my car. Because, of course it is. I rip my shirt over my head and wad it up then press it to her injury.

She cries out and hisses through clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I need to apply pressure.”

“Just stop messing with me. Leave me here. Go get him. He’s getting away.”

“I’m not leaving you. You’ll die.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She groans. “You have to catch him. He’s what matters.”

“You’re not getting it. I’m not leaving you to die.”

“Excuse me, is everyone—” The door swings open, and a man walks in. “What happened? What did you do?” His eyes go wide, and his expression contorts in anger as he comes to his own conclusions about what’s going on.

Romeo lets loose a warning growl as the man steps in.

“She’s fine,” I snap. “Fell.”

He eyes me then the door. I wait for him to question me. To come in here and try to force his way into the situation. But I’m not at all surprised when he backs out of the room. Likely for the same reason no one else came when Jules screamed.

They’ve all got their own demons they’re hiding from, and the last thing they want is attention.

“I need you to keep pressure here.” I take her hand and press it onto the top of my shirt. Her grip is weak, but she doesn’t let her hand drop. “I need to go down to my truck and get my med kit, okay?”

She nods.

“Romeo will stay here with you. If anyone except me comes through that door, you tell him fass, okay?”

“Fass?”

I glance back at Romeo, who is watching intently, sharp ears pointed straight up. “Yes. But use his name afterward, okay? I’ll be back in a minute tops.”

She tries to sit up, but I shake my head and gently press her back down. “Stay here. Don’t move and remember?—”

“Anyone comes through the door, I sic your scary dog on them.”

“Yes. Bleib, Romeo,” I order. Stay. Then, I jump up and race out onto the walkway, weapon still in my hand. After ensuring there’s no one on the stairs or within view of the room, I do what I can to partially close the door behind me then rush down the steps, heart racing.

The truck is still unlocked, so I reach into the back seat and shoulder my black tactical backpack. It’s a go bag I carry everywhere—no matter where I’m going or what I’m doing.

After running back up the stairs, I shove the door open and close it behind me, this time propping a chair up under the handle to help keep it closed. “ Pass auf, Romeo,” I order him. Attention. If anyone comes anywhere near that door, he’ll let me know.

I withdraw a pair of blue gloves and the QuikClot kit.

“Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” I gently remove her hand then shove the bottom half of her shirt up to her ribs so I can see the wound.

Blood pours out of a gash that appears to be about an inch and a half wide.

“This is going to hurt, but I need you to try not to scream.”

Tears in her eyes, she nods.

Using two gloved fingers, I gently reach into the wound to scoop some of the blood out of the way so I can see where the bleeding is coming from.

She covers her mouth with one hand to keep from screaming. Breathing ragged, she’s doing what she can to remain still, but every movement makes the bleed worse.

Finally, I spot the bleed and press my finger onto it, applying pressure directly. With my other hand, I open the package of QuikClot gauze and start pulling it out.

“You’re doing good, okay, Jules?”

She doesn’t respond, but her emerald gaze is full of tears, her face red.

Shifting my attention back, I ensure there’s no new bleeding then press the first part of the gauze over the wound, replacing my finger.

The bleeding remains slowed, so I move as quickly as I can, packing the entire wound.

Which—given it’s a stab wound—is impressive in size.

Whatever blade this guy was using, it left little room for error.

As soon as it’s completely packed, I press down as gently as I can while still applying enough pressure to help the wound clot.

“Where did you—” She trails off and sucks in a ragged breath. “Learn that?”

“Army,” I tell her. “And my little sister is a doctor.” As soon as I’m sure the bleeding is stopped—for now—I take out a wound cover bandage and stretch it over the injury, securing it to her skin as best I can.

“We’ll wrap it in a minute.” I remove my gloves and tap on Jesper Michaels’s contact in my phone.

“What can I do for you, Riles?” the pilot asks after the second ring.

“I need a flight out ASAP.”

“Get to the airstrip. We’ll be wheels up in thirty minutes.”

The call ends, so I toss my phone to the side.

“We’re going to have to move you, okay?”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere we can get you help. It’s going to hurt though. But I need you to do your best to stay alert. I can get you some medication for the pain?—”

“No,” she snaps. “No medication.”

“Jules—”

“No. Meds.”

And then I remember the alcohol addiction I read about. Is it possible there was more to that and she’s afraid of a relapse?

Strength. That’s what I sense within her.

“Okay. No meds.”

She looks visibly relieved. “Okay. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“I’m going to sit you up. You can lean against my chest while I wrap your waist, but I need you to stay up.”

She nods. “I can do that.”

“Okay. Count of three. One. Two. Three.” I pull her up slowly, and she groans with the movement but falls forward and rests her face on my chest, right near my shoulder.

I take an ACE bandage from my bag and wrap it around her waist, tight enough to maintain pressure.

Then, I repeat it with another. As soon as she’s stabilized, I gently lean her back down.

“You okay?” Sweat beads on her forehead, and she’s pale from blood loss.

I can only hope she doesn’t end up going into shock.

One problem at a time.

“Managing.”

Reaching back into my backpack, I grab another shirt and slip it on then shove my bloodied one into a plastic evidence bag so it won’t saturate the rest of what’s in the bag. Then, I withdraw another bag and slide the knife she’d used on her attacker inside and set that on top of my shirt.

“Did you check in under a false name?” I ask as I tap on Tucker’s contact.

“Yes. Paid cash, too.”

“Okay.”

“What’s up?” Tucker asks as he answers.

“There was an attack. Jesper is getting the plane ready, but I need this room cleaned. There’s a whole lot of blood, and I broke two doors.”

“Jules Landers?”

“Alive. I’ve packed the wound, and I’m getting her to the hospital.”

“I’ll make a call and have it handled.”

“Great. We were seen by one witness. I don’t think he was sober enough to remember though.”

“I’ll get a cleanup team there and have Frank Loyotta talk to local authorities.”

“Thanks.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. So is Romeo. The attacker took off out of the bathroom window. So if you could?—”

“Already pulling up your location, brother. I’ll check all cameras in the surrounding area.”

“Fantastic. Jules managed to stab him, so we have blood to run.”

“Even better. Be safe.”

“Will do.” I end the call and shove my cell into my pocket. “You ready to move?”

“Where are you taking me?”

It amazes me that, even after I saved her life, she’s still so untrusting. What has this woman been through that she can’t take a lifeline when one is offered?

“I’m going to get you to a hospital.” It’s the truth. I just leave out the fact that I’m taking her on a two-hour flight back to the hospital in Pine Creek, Texas, where my sister can treat her and I can ensure no one can find us.