I need to do something.
Abruptly I turn to the Yukon and climb behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?” Dimi says, climbing in the passenger seat.
“Driving. Looking. Anything but fucking standing around with our fingers up our noses.”
Hutch is the last to hop into the SUV as Bill walks up to my window.
“Looks like the other vehicle went west. Not much there but trees and mountains.”
I’m about to drive off when someone yells for Bill.
“Found something!”
Bree
The pain is brutal.
I stuck as close to the road as I dared, putting as much distance between me and the guy I knocked out in case I didn’t kill him, which in hindsight, I should’ve made sure of. At some point I had to rest and found a large toppled tree I could hide underneath. It was only supposed to be for a few minutes, but as soon as I felt safe enough to rest my eyes, I was gone.
Catnapping in odd places and positions isn’t new to me. Not in this business. But the waking up has never been this painful.
The earlier adrenaline that propelled me also masked the impact of my injuries, but its benefits are gone. It’s hitting me full on now and I need to find some help soon.
I’m no longer able to stand on my right leg, the ankle so swollen I’m afraid of the damage I may have done. I don’t even want to look at the long cut on my other leg, I can feel it’s probably inflamed with the way it’s burning, and I’m sure it won’t be pretty. My left hand is a throbbing mess, but at least my right hand is functioning. I’m still holding onto that fire poker like my life depends on it.
I tilt my head when I hear the rumble of an engine. Not a car, something bigger like a semi.
I need to get to the road. Somehow.
Chapter Six
Yanis
Trucker found an injured woman on the side of High Grade Road.
I floored it before Bill had a chance to finish telling me it’s the road Deer Creek turns into. He’s behind me now, along with another law enforcement vehicle, both with flashing lights and sirens. I’m breaking every speed limit and if a deer crossed the road right now, we’d be in a heap of trouble.
Dimi is on my phone with Bill.
“He says half a mile up.”
I nod my acknowledgment and keep my eyes peeled to the road. I have to slow down for a sharp curve, but as soon as I clear it, I can see the logging truck on the shoulder up ahead. The SUV hasn’t come to a complete stop when I slam it in park with a jerk and jump out.
I don’t see her at first, just the back of a bulky guy, crouched over something in the ditch. From behind me a flashlight hits the scene.
“Bree!”
I don’t even realize I yelled out loud when the large man turns, but my focus is on the white face illuminated by the beam of light.
Unceremoniously shoving the Good Samaritan out of the way, I crouch down beside her.
“Talk to me,” I bark at her.
“Silver luxury vehicle, sedan. Colorado plates, CX…that’s all I remember. White male, dark cap, dark slicker, about six or six one. Cultured voice and—”
“Don’t give a fuck about that. You, Bree, where are you hurt?”
“Right ankle, left thigh, left hand, ribs,” she lists off with visible effort.
My hand reaches for her face, where a strand of hair has come loose from her ponytail and is in her eyes. I gently stroke it out of the way before I look down her body, noticing dirt and debris stuck to her hair and clothes.
I wince at the sight of her thumb sticking out at an odd angle from her hand. There’s a handcuff still attached to her other wrist. Then my eyes trail down to assess the damage to her legs.
“Trouble breathing?”
Dimi crouches down on the other side of her.
“I’m okay,” she mumbles, even managing a fucking smile for him.
“Like hell you are.” I look over my shoulder and yell. “Where the fuck is the ambulance?”
“Ten minutes out,” a disembodied voice sounds behind me.
“Ms. Graves, can you tell me what happened to you?”
An older guy I assume is the lead detective, Russel, steps up to her head and looks down on her. That pisses me right off.
“Fuck off,” I snarl. “Your goddamn questions can wait.”
“Mazur. Cool it.”
Bill is behind me, putting a warning hand on my shoulder which I immediately shrug off.
“I’m not waiting around,” I announce. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”
Her skin is almost translucent and her gray eyes look far too big for her face. Before anyone can stop me, I slide my arms underneath her and lift her off the damp ground. She hisses sharply with the movement, but when I ask her softly if she’s okay she clenches her jaw and nods.
“EMTs will be here any minute.”
“That’s a minute too late. You wanna help, clear the way for me. We’ll intercept the ambulance,” I tell Bill.
“Wait…I dropped a fire poker. It has his DNA on it.”
Bree’s words are slurred and the next moment her eyes flutter shut.
“Let’s fucking go.”
Hutch keeps his hand on my back for support as I carry my load up the embankment to the Yukon. Dimi is already ahead, getting into the driver’s seat and Hutch helps me into the back seat with Bree in my arms. I bend down and press a kiss to her forehead.
“Gonna get you help, Tygrys,” I mumble against her skin.
The endearment slides from my lips effortlessly, even after more than a decade.
I used to call her that: Tiger. She reminded me of the character in the book our grandmother used to read to us. Fearless and full of energy.
Of course, that was before it all went to shit.
“Are you her husband?”
“No, her boss,” I snap at the nurse trying to hold me back when I attempt to follow the stretcher with Bree down the corridor.
“Then you have no right to go in with her,” she fires back, unintimidated.
Each of my arms is grabbed and I’m pulled away from the door by Hutch and my brother.
We ran into the ambulance on Deer Creek Road and I hopped in the back with her. I was able to relay her reported injuries to the EMTs, since Bree was still out.
On the way to the hospital while they cut off her shirt and pants—revealing bruising on her ribs, a long nasty cut on her leg, and a bad-looking ankle—I had time to think. Too much time, unfortunately.
The last time I sat in the back of an ambulance with her, she’d been shot in the shoulder during a rescue attempt. We’d been tasked with the protection of the rebellious, seventeen-year-old daughter of a wealthy client and had allowed ourselves to be distracted.
With each other.
It was during a late-night shift change, Bree showed up early for hers with a hot meal for me. I was outside of the home in our surveillance van, watching the monitors. She’d been enthusiastic and both of us were insatiable back then. By the time we came up for air, the meal was no longer hot and the girl had managed to turn off the alarms and sneak out of the house to meet with an online ‘boyfriend’ without us noticing. The boyfriend turned out to be a forty-two-year-old man who’d been grooming the girl for weeks so he could kidnap her for ransom.