Last Stand Ranch. Jenna Night
Unless he rode a horse or a bike to the backcountry and hiked down here.”
“That doesn’t sound like the fat-cat lawyer Miss Dillon’s worried about,” Bedford muttered. “Sounds more like hired firepower.”
If that was true, Olivia was especially fortunate she’d survived. Elijah glanced upward. Thank You, Lord.
“Anyone trying to help Miss Dillon might be crossing some very dangerous people,” Bedford said to Elijah. “I know about your military service, and I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. But this might require more extensive resources and backup than you’ve got. You don’t want to hunt this guy on your own.”
Elijah wasn’t exactly on his own. But he wouldn’t ask his friends in Vanquish the Darkness to put themselves in harm’s way. They were organized to provide spiritual comfort, particularly for veterans and their families, and to reach out to people in hospitals and other facilities who might have been otherwise forgotten. The riders had crossed paths with a few unsavory people along the way—it couldn’t be avoided—but they weren’t some personal protection group under Elijah’s direction.
“How well do you know Olivia Dillon, anyway?” Bedford asked.
“I just met her last night.”
“Why such a personal interest?”
Elijah shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“Mrs. Somerset,” Jonathan said quietly.
Bedford glanced at Jonathan and then back at Elijah as though expecting an explanation. He wasn’t going to get one. Mrs. Somerset was only one name on the long list of war casualties Elijah knew personally. In her case, she was a woman he should have protected but didn’t.
Jonathan knew the whole ugly story, yet the kid still looked up to his big brother. Sometimes his admiration made Elijah feel like a fraud.
“We just going to sit around here?” Elijah said gruffly, aware he’d started to drift into the past again. “If we move out, form a wide perimeter and look closely one more time, maybe we can find some tracks or trampled grass we missed earlier before we call it a night.”
“Worth a try,” Bedford agreed.
Jonathan nodded. “Let’s do it.”
They rode until full dark, staying in contact by phone, but found nothing. “If I hear anything I’m authorized to tell you, I’ll let you know,” Bedford promised.
When he got home, Elijah cooled down Churchill and made sure he was fed and watered. Then he got in his truck, drove to the hospital and found Olivia’s room.
Olivia lay in bed, sleeping. With her bruises and bandages, she looked as if she’d gone a few rounds with a prizefighter. In a way, she had.
She needed somebody to look after her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Elijah dropped his tired body into a chair at the foot of her bed to keep watch.
Olivia opened her eyes. In the pale blue early-morning light she saw Elijah slumped in a chair in her hospital room. In weathered jeans, a black T-shirt, a jean jacket and heavy black motorcycle boots, he looked out of place with the pale fuchsia wall behind him holding a framed print of two white poodle puppies chasing a butterfly.
The last time she’d woken, Claudia had been sitting in that chair. Before that, Olivia had opened her eyes to a nurse in recovery asking her silly questions about the current month, the time of the year and how many eggs were in a dozen. And before that, she remembered a doctor telling her that she might end up with an impressive scar on her upper arm, but otherwise she would be okay. Time seemed to be moving both backward and forward.
“Hey,” Olivia called out.
Elijah stirred and lifted his head. He must be a light sleeper. Olivia’s voice hadn’t come out much louder than a whisper.
“Hey,” he answered back, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Sleeping in that chair will give you a stiff neck.”
“I can sleep anywhere.” He had an appealing scruff of beard going. He rubbed a hand over it and through his bristly black hair before standing up and walking toward her bed.
“How are you feeling?”
She glanced at her bandaged shoulder and back at him. “Right now? No pain.” The pain medicine was still in her body, making her feel as if she was wrapped in a cocoon. “But I have a feeling it’s going to sting when the medicine wears off.”
“Only when you laugh.”
She laughed. And as her laugh died out, the memory of what had happened came rushing back. Along with the feelings of sheer terror and hopelessness. She was still shaken by the unnerving realization that someone had actually shot her. Had tried to kill her. She felt her eyes tear up and her face begin to crumple.
“We didn’t get him,” Elijah said, standing at her bedside, hands crossed in front of his body, eyes downcast as though it was his personal responsibility to catch Kurtz.
Olivia drew in a ragged breath. For a few seconds she’d felt safe, her worries vague and half-forgotten. Too bad it hadn’t lasted a little longer.
She reached out for his hand and managed to grasp the tips of his fingers. “Hey. Thanks for rescuing me. Again.”
His gaze met hers. “From what I saw, it looked like you rescued yourself. I just got there for the mop-up.”
Coming from someone who didn’t appear to smile unless he felt like it, who couldn’t or wouldn’t turn on the easy, facile charm that so many people used to get through life, his words meant something. And he was right. She had managed to keep herself from getting killed. Even in the grip of stark terror she wasn’t helpless. She hadn’t collapsed into a whimpering heap and given up.
She squeezed his fingers. “Nevertheless, thank you.”
He nodded and seemed about to say something when a big bouquet of flowers suddenly filled the space behind him and a voice sang out, “You’re awake!”
Claudia stepped around Elijah, hefting a round white basket full of purple irises and yellow roses. She glanced at him. “I had a feeling you’d be here.” She set the basket on a table beside Olivia’s bed. “Honey, how are you?”
Olivia relaxed into a slight smile. It had been a long time since anybody fussed over her. “I don’t feel so bad.”
“Good.” Claudia sat down on the edge of her bed.
“But I’d like to get out of here as soon as I can.”
“I’ll drive you,” Elijah said. “Just in case.”
“The doctor said he wanted to talk to you after you woke up and ate some breakfast.” Claudia’s upbeat tone sounded forced. “If everything looks good, he’ll send you home.”
Home. Where was that, exactly? Not Las Vegas anymore. Not anywhere. Again, in an instant, Olivia’s spirits crashed. Hopefully, her seesawing emotions were a result of the medicine and not a new way of life. She’d counseled women who’d been shot at when she was working at the safe house, interning on her way to becoming a social worker. She’d learned basic counseling skills, but at the moment she couldn’t remember any of the advice she’d been trained to give to someone who’d survived a physical attack.
“I called your mom and dad. Each of them said they’d call you sometime today. And both of them said to let them know if you need anything.”
How sweet. Some parents might actually rush to visit their daughter after she’d been shot.
“How come