Page 96 of Shrapnel

“What happened?” Elijah asked as he stepped forward, crowding Owen out to check on Jamie.

His throat caught. He had seen the bodies—it looked like someone had ripped their lungs out. Jamie didn’t look that bad. But what if—no. His hands shook as he rested his fingers against Jamie’s forehead. He felt cool but not clammy.

Owen quickly explained what happened, but Elijah was only partly listening.Stupid, Jamie.Why had he gone alone? With the IT tech? Elijah was supposed to have his back. That’s why they got Jackson to stay with Noah.

“Molly says he’s stable.”

Elijah couldn’t look at Owen. He couldn’t comfort him right now. Not when his best friend was lying on the bed like this.

“Is it…the same…?” He couldn’t finish the question.

“It’s not,” Noah announced as he breezed into the room. He slid his phone into his pocket as he moved to Jamie’s bedside. “I just spoke to Dr. Fergus. She said he would be far worse if it was in the same concentration as our murder victims. Her best guess is Jamie got a lower dose or a bad batch. Or the killer has created something incapacitate rather than kill.”

Jackson filed in after Noah. He closed the door behind him firmly, looking deeply uncomfortable.

Elijah took a deep breath. “How did she know?”

“Owen sent us the photos he took, along with the address of the bank. We went by to collect samples for the docs. She did some tests. Or whatever.” He looked down at Jamie and his eyebrows drew together. “He got lucky. Again.”

It didn’t seem lucky, but Elijah didn’t argue. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What else did the doc say?”

“That whatever Jamie got was a derivative of Mustard Gas. It burns the lungs and face but isn’t completely lethal. Said that if he didn’t get too much he should be ok.”

Elijah nodded. “I called Grant. He’s angry.”

Noah paled. “How angry?”

“One of his people was injured.” Jackson shifted, the floorboards creaking under his feet. “I would say he’s pretty pissed.”

Noah looked like he might be sick. He was staring at the blood stained sheets and grinding his teeth. Elijah wasn’t sure if Grant getting involved was a good thing. The increased manpower would be helpful but if he stepped in, Noah’s position would be even more precarious. Not that it could get any worse. Noah would probably be safer out of White Sand Mesa than in it.

Noah’s phone rang and he fished it from his pocket, answered it, and stepped into the corner to speak.

Jackson took his place. Elijah didn’t know the mercenary very well. As far as he knew, no one did. Jackson liked it that way. But he was looking down at Jamie with an almost soft expression. His lips were pressed together like he was contemplating something. He reached a big hand towards Jamie, brushing his knuckles across his cheekbones with such gentleness that Elijah was surprised.

“Don’t touch him.” Owen stepped up into Jackson’s space, trying to get between him and Jamie. “The last time you touched him you left bruises on his neck!” his voice was a low hiss.

Jackson looked surprised. He withdrew his hand and regarded the shorter man. There was a seriousness in his face, hands balled into fists. Elijah remembered Jamie called Owen a hamster. The whole thing looked like one of those stories parents told their kids—a hamster standing up to the vicious tiger. The predator regarded the tiny rodent with a sort of amused curiosity.

Except Jackson didn’t look amused. He looked displeased. A corner of his lips quirked up.

“Did he tell you why? That heaskedme to leave those bruises?”

Owen’s eyes widened. “Shut up. Don’t you…. just shut up. You’ll never touch him again.”

“Says who?”

The hamster was shaking now. “Me,” he said bravely. “He may not care what happens to him, but I do. I care. And I’m not going to let you hurt him.”

Elijah stared at Owen. He wasn’t kidding. The guy was shaking like a leaf but he hadn’t taken a single step back. He was standing between Jackson and Jamie’s bedside, like a tiny little barricade. Jackson could have tossed him across the room. Owen knew that. But he was willing to defend Jamie.

As far as Elijah knew, only Grant and himself had ever tried to protect Jamie. He hadn’t allowed them to, of course. He wouldn’t allow anyone in. But maybe with Owen…

Elijah put a hand on Jackson. “Jamie needs to rest.”

Jackson’s nostrils flared as he stared down at the IT tech. He held it for a moment before peeling away, returning to his corner to brood.