Protective Custody. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ warning, glass shattered, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet street. Fragments from the truck window sprayed in Ian’s direction. Simultaneously, something propelled him back a step, the impact and burn clicking an instant recognition in his brain and sending him diving for cover. Thankfully Nicole was in the vehicle. He hoped like hell she stayed put. Ian hit the ground. A stab of pain knifed through his left shoulder and radiated down his arm.

      The squeal of tires and the roar of an engine pierced the still morning air. Then the report of Ian’s Glock, three shots in rapid succession, echoed. Nicole was returning fire. Ian swore savagely and pushed to his feet. Nicole whipped around and quickly surveyed him.

      “Where are you hit?” Worry traced lines across her face, her gaze darted back to his left shoulder. “Damn,” she breathed. Gingerly she pushed his jacket away to view the damage.

      “It’s nothing.”

      She gave him a look. “Yeah, right.”

      Ian gritted his teeth when she unbuttoned his shirt partway and pulled it from the wound. He winced inwardly. “I am now fully convinced that you’re trying to get yourself killed, Nicole. Why didn’t you stay in the truck?”

      “Shut up, Michaels.” She grimaced. “You need a doctor.”

      “I got a partial on the license plate,” Martinez reported breathlessly as he skidded to a stop next to Nicole.

      “We have to get Ian to a hospital.” She tugged him toward the passenger-side door of Martinez’s borrowed truck as she spoke.

      Ian manacled her right wrist and halted her forward movement. “I’ll take this.” Before she could protest he relieved her of the Glock, then tucked it into his waistband beneath his jacket. “And don’t even think about leaving my sight.”

      “Fine,” she snapped, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “As long as you get in the damned vehicle.”

      Martinez quickly brushed the glass from the driver’s seat and dropped behind the wheel. “My brother is definitely going to kill me,” he muttered.

      “Drive, Martinez,” Nicole ordered as she slid in next to him, “or he won’t get the chance.”

      Chapter Two

      Blood…

      Oh God.

      Nauseated and feeling more than a little faint, Nicole stared down at her bloodstained hands. This was by no means her first time to exchange gunfire with a hostile, nor was it her first up-close encounter with spilled blood.

      But this was Ian’s blood.

      The hospital’s medicinal smell didn’t help. Nicole swiped her palms against the baggy gray sweatshirt she wore. She squeezed her hands into tight fists and dropped them to her sides. Moistening her dry lips and careful not to make eye contact, she slowly lifted her gaze to the man seated on the examining table. He sat on the very edge, poised, intent, as if anticipating the need to make a tactical move at any given moment. His torn and bloody shirt lay on the exam table behind him, the damaged suit jacket next to it. Nicole closed her eyes against the panic that still threatened to suffocate her each time she relived those few seconds between the sound of the gunshot and the moment she confirmed with her own eyes that Ian wasn’t mortally wounded.

      The sound of Ian’s smoky voice as he answered some question the doctor asked dragged Nicole back to the here and now. Young and obviously nervous, the doctor pulled another suture through the nasty wound on Ian’s shoulder. He kept muttering something about the injury looking like a gunshot wound to him. Poor guy, Nicole thought to herself, he had to be an intern. Otherwise Martinez would never have had him even half believing that idiotic story about Ian’s falling into a window.

      Ignoring the doctor’s concerns, Ian did nothing to lessen the thick tension. His dark, brooding presence would unnerve a war-zone veteran. He had refused the offer of pain medication, and, in that arrogant, dangerous tone of his, had ordered the doctor to do what he had to do as quickly as possible. The wound wasn’t so bad, Nicole told herself again. Just a nasty slash through skin and muscle. Had the angle been slightly different Ian might be in surgery now—or worse.

      Shuddering with a chill that went bone-deep, Nicole wrapped her arms around her middle. Ian could have been killed. And it was her fault. She should never have gotten him mixed up in this. How could she drag him into her problems with no regard for his safety? Had she been so absorbed in saving her own skin that she hadn’t thought through the consequences of her actions? Nicole let go a heavy breath. She closed her eyes and willed the mixture of fear and frustration to retreat. Ian was going to be fine, she told herself again. He was safe.

      And she was leaving.

      She could do this alone. She was a highly trained federal agent. All she had to do was make sure she wasn’t followed when she made live contact with her witness. She didn’t need Ian. Denial rushed through her at that thought. She needed him all right, but not in the way she should.

      Suddenly, more from some innate need than true courage, she met Ian’s gaze for the first time since their arrival at the ER. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they’d entered the examining room. It wasn’t necessary for her to look to confirm her suspicions, she could feel his gaze on her. Steady and relentless, those piercing gray eyes held hers even now, then reached past her defenses and touched her.

      Nicole trembled with reaction. The only indication that Ian felt anything at all was the flexing of that muscle in his rigid jaw. He was probably just annoyed that her stupidity had got him shot. Whatever he was feeling, one thing was certain, Ian Michaels was planning his next move. Nicole knew his methods as well as she knew her own. No matter that he was surely in serious pain, Ian would develop a plan, and then a backup plan for that. Analyzing her current emotional state would be part of his strategy. He read her too easily. Nicole looked away. Why give him any more ammunition?

      A cell phone chirped, startling Nicole. She took a slow, deep breath and ran a shaky hand through her hair. She was seriously rattled. Of course, dancing with death would do that, she reminded herself. Next to her, Martinez murmured responses to his caller.

      “It’s for you,” he announced, offering Ian the compact phone. “It’s Victoria.”

      Ian accepted the phone, then placed it on the examining table next to him. Nicole knew he was still watching her, so she kept her gaze purposely averted from his. He reached beneath his jacket lying on the table beside him and retrieved his weapon. He handed the Glock, butt first, to Martinez.

      “Don’t take your eyes off her,” he warned. “If she makes a move for the door, use it.”

      The doctor made an odd, choking sound of disbelief. “Did I see a badge? Are you gentlemen police officers? If this is a gunshot wound—”

      Indignation exploded inside Nicole. “Screw you, Michaels,” she hissed, cutting off the doctor. Those tender emotions she had felt only moments ago evaporated instantly.

      Ian held her gaze for one long beat. “I believe you’ve already taken care of that.”

      “You bas—”

      “Miss Reed,” Martinez interrupted firmly. “I’d like you to have a seat. Please,” he added quickly as he tucked the weapon into his waistband.

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