Montana SEAL (3 page)

Lloyd helped, but he wasn’t steady on his feet and it was up to Sadie to guide, lift and shove him into the back seat of her Jeep.

“I can drive my own self,” Lloyd said, his voice slipping into a moan.

“Like hell you can.” She tucked in his leg, shut the door and climbed into the front of the Jeep, crawling over the console, keeping her body below the windows, hoping the exterior of the vehicle would stop anymore flying bullets, should the shooting begin again. “We’re taking you to the clinic, and then I’m calling the sheriff.”

“Won’t do no good. Probably some fool hunter who can’t tell a deer from a bus,” Lloyd said, through gritted teeth.

“Might be, but it needs to be reported.” If the shooter had been a hunter, the big question on Sadie’s mind was what was he hunting? He’d hit Lloyd, and then almost hit Sadie, twice. As close as the bullets came, the shooter had to have been aiming at her.

A shot blew out the driver’s side window, blasting tiny shards of glass over her hair and arm. Sadie ducked lower, her heart lodging in her throat.

With Lloyd counting on her getting him to medical care quickly, she didn’t have time to succumb to fear. Settled low in the driver’s seat, she shifted into drive and jammed her foot on the accelerator. Peeking through the steering wheel, she managed to avoid leveling the stop sign and put a hundred yards between her vehicle and the intersection. As she drove toward Eagle Rock, she eventually straightened in her seat, her gaze alternating between the road, Lloyd and her rearview mirror.

Deer hunter my ass
. Someone had purposely tried shooting her and Lloyd. Sadie wouldn’t feel safe until the shooter was caught. In the meantime she’d be blowing through that intersection without slowing down. The sheriff would just have to write her up. These were the times she really disliked being in a remote town. Houses were few and far between, and if she’d had her cell phone, she’d still have been out of luck due to the lack of towers passing signals. Where was a tall, dark and handsome alpha hero when you needed one to swoop in with a satellite phone or, better yet, a rescue helicopter?

“
I
told
them it was only a flesh wound, and what do they do?” Hank shrugged into the leather jacket Tuck had found in his closet and brought to the hospital in Bethesda, where he and Swede were being treated for their injuries.

Swede sat in a sterile, white hospital bed, wearing a faded gown with the ties in the back, while eating the swill from the hospital kitchen. He still had a swath of bandages wrapped around his head where shrapnel had hit, and his hand was wrapped like a mummy’s, making it hard for him to hold his fork. As far as the docs knew, they’d dug all the metal shards out of his back and thighs. He’d find out if the surgeon had done his job the next time he went through the metal detector in a commercial airport.

Swede paused with his forkful of rubber chicken halfway to his mouth. “What did they do?”

“They’re running me through a medical review board.” Hank walked to the window and stared out. Cloudy skies matched his murky mood. “I might be discharged based on this goddamn leg.” He kicked his leg out and winced, his hand going to the side of his knee that had taken the bulk of the hit.

“If
you’re
discharged, what are they going to do to
me
?” Swede raised his bandaged hand to his head, fork and all. “Isn’t it an automatic career-ender when you get a TBI?”

Traumatic brain injuries were serious business. One minute a guy could be fine, the next, he could be on the floor, unconscious.

“Any headaches?” Hank asked.

“Sometimes,” Swede admitted. “Hell, I got hit in the head. I have stitches. They shaved my hair.”

Hank laughed. “Was that where all your strength was? In that headful of hair?”

Swede had worn his blond hair long and shaggy, like a Norse god.

“Damn right, it was. I feel as weak as a kitten.” He glanced at his bandaged hand. “Can’t hold a fork, much less a nine millimeter pistol. Forget an M4. The only good thing about being stuck in this bed is the pretty nurse who comes in on the evening shift.”

“Any confusion or dizziness?” Hank’s brow furrowed. “You’re thinking clearly, aren’t you?”

“Just confusion over where to tie the damned strings on this gown—not that I can manage them on my own with this bandage on my hand. No dizziness.” Swede nodded. “I’m thinking pretty damned clearly. I want out of this hospital. Yesterday, if it were possible.”

“How’s the steak?” Hank asked, his lips twitching, his eyelid dropping in a wink.

“It’s garbage. Tastes more like chicken.” Swede glared. “I only wish it was steak. I can’t wait to get back to my own place.”

Hank rubbed a hand across his face. “The medical review board doesn’t meet for another month. They recommended I go on leave until they come to a decision. The orthopedic surgeon doesn’t want me to start running again until I’ve been through a couple months of physical therapy. How the hell am I going to stay in shape if I can’t exercise?”

Swede shook his head, his lips twisting. “Have you ever considered you’re looking at everything all wrong?” his friend asked quietly.

“I’m a SEAL. What good am I if I can’t work out?”

“As much as I can’t stand hospitals, you and I were the lucky ones.” Swede set his fork on the rollaway table and pushed it aside. “Lt. Mike won’t be going home. His wife won’t be kissing him goodnight. His kids won’t know their daddy.”

Hank eased into the chair beside Swede’s bed and stared at the wall, his heart and stomach twisting into a hard knot. “Why did he do it?”

“The same reason you or I would have done it, had we been closest to the grenade. Lt. Mike just had the shit luck to be standing there. He saved all of us.”

“We could have run—”

Swede shook his head. “We wouldn’t have made it.” The big man sighed. “What’s important is that Lt. Mike bought us a second chance at life. We can’t go around second-guessing the past. We have to move on and make a difference in our futures. Lt. Mike would have wanted us to.”

“We have to do right by him.”

“Exactly. We can’t waste this opportunity to live our lives to the fullest.”

Hank glanced up and nodded. “And do some good, while we’re at it.”

“What about going back to Montana for a visit? Or better yet, you could go back to ranching. Isn’t that what you did before you joined the navy?”

Hank shook his head. “I joined the navy to get away from Montana.”

“Or did you join the navy to prove to your father you didn’t need him?”

Swede knew Hank better than Hank knew himself. “That’s part of it. I can’t go back to Montana flat on my ass, jobless and not fit to do anything but blow shit up. Going home isn’t an option.”

“I know you and your father didn’t see eye to eye, but what about your sister? Doesn’t she like it when you visit?”

The frown eased on Hank’s forehead. “Allie would be beside herself, she’d be so happy. But every time I return home, my father makes it a point to remind me that I’m wasting my life in the navy. He thinks I should get back to what I do best.”

“And that is?”

“To him, it sure the hell isn’t blowing shit up. No, he thinks I should be a rancher.”

“And if the MRB boots your ass out of the military, is that what you’ll do?”

Hank shook his head. “I couldn’t go back to work on my father’s ranch. He and I butt heads too much.”

“What about working on another ranch?”

“I don’t know. I like what we do as SEALs—taking out the bad guys and rescuing the good ones.”

“Isn’t that what you do as a rancher?” Swede asked. “You take down the wolves that would feed off the innocent cattle.”

“It’s different.” Hank scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“If you like protecting the innocent, how about security work?”

“No way. I can’t be a mall cop.” Hank shoved a hand through his hair. “I’d shoot myself first.”

Swede laughed. “No, not that kind of security. I mean, more like personal protective services, like a bodyguard. You could hire out to protect a high-powered CEO or politician.”

“Now that you mentioned it, I kind of like the idea of doing something in Montana.”

Swede raised his mummy hand. “Hell, isn’t Montana filled with rich guys and celebrities? Don’t they need bodyguards?”

“I guess.” Hank hadn’t considered protective services as a potential civilian occupation. All he’d ever done was ranching and the SEALs. But the idea held merit.

“All I’m saying is you should think about it.” Swede settled back against the pillow, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you end up medically discharged, you have to do something. I hear the Crazy Mountains where you’re from are pretty spectacular. I hope to go there some day.”

“You should. There’s no place on earth quite like it.” Hank’s cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He pushed to his feet, trying not to wince as pain shot up his leg. He reached into his back pocket for the device. The caller ID indicated the call was from his sister Allie. He tipped his head toward Swede. “It’s my sister. Mind if I take it?”

“Go ahead. Tell her I said hello, and ask her when she’s going to marry me.” Swede grimaced and closed his eyes.

Hank turned and walked into the hallway, jabbing the key to receive the call. “Hey, Allie Cat.”

“Hank, we need you at home,” she said without the back and forth banter they usually shared as a form of greeting. “Dad’s been shot.”

T
he day after the shooting
, Sadie made the hour-long drive to Bozeman to check on Lloyd Patterson. She found his twenty-six-year old daughter pacing the hallway outside his room.

“How’s your father today, Allie?” Sadie asked.

Allie wrinkled her nose. “He’s cranky and ready to be out of the hospital. But he’s alive, thanks to you.” She hugged Sadie. “I know he’s an old grump, but he’s
my
old grump of a dad.”

Sadie chuckled. “I know what you mean. I’d give anything to have my parents around.” Her heart pinched painfully every time she thought of her parents and their untimely deaths due to an auto accident on their way to Helena for their anniversary dinner. Sadie missed them terribly.

“I’d like to think he’s cranky because he’s getting better.” Allie sighed. “But he’s cranky all the time. Seems he’s been double angry since Hank left eleven years ago.”

“Really? You’d think he’d be over it after all this time.”

“He never forgave Hank for leaving.” Allie puffed out her chest and dipped her chin, lowering her voice. “The ranch is his heritage. He has an obligation to preserve it for his children and his children’s children.”

Her imitation of her father’s gruff voice made Sadie laugh out loud. “He’s got a point. I don’t know what I would have done if my brother hadn’t wanted to stick around and run the ranch our parents left us. I haven’t been around enough to do it myself.”

Allie’s lips spread into a wide grin. “No, you haven’t. But you have been busy making a big name for yourself in the movie industry. Congratulations on the Oscar nomination.”

Sadie shrugged. “I didn’t win.”

“But you were nominated. I’d be turning cartwheels at the honor.” Allie hugged her. “And I can say I knew you when you were a country bumpkin in the Crazy Mountains of Montana.”

“I’m still a country bumpkin. Don’t let the fancy clothes fool you.” Not that she’d worn a single designer outfit since she’d left LA. In Eagle Rock, she didn’t have to dress up to go to the grocery store. She’d managed to slip out of California on a private jet and land in Montana without the paparazzi getting wind of her movement. That in itself was just short of a miracle.

Sadie tipped her head toward the closed door. “Will he mind if I pop in to say hello?”

Allie waved her by. “Please. I could use the break from his constant complaining about the food and stump water they call coffee around here.” Her lips twisted. “His words, not mine. I gotta warn you, though. He’s madder than a hornet. The doc thinks he needs surgery on his shoulder. He’s waiting for the orthopedic surgeon’s opinion before he releases Dad.”

“That bad?”

“Yeah, it seems the shot hit the rotator cuff and shattered the bone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Allie touched her arm. “I’m glad the bullet didn’t kill him. We can deal with a bum arm.”

Sadie wished she could have done more to protect Mr. Patterson from the shots fired. But she couldn’t have known someone would target that intersection on that day. “Agreed. Rather have him around than not.”

“I’m going to the cafeteria for more stump water,” Allie said. “I think I’ll need it, if he’s this cantankerous the rest of the afternoon. Can I bring you anything?”

“No, thank you.” Girding her loins, Sadie pushed through the swinging door, the scent of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant filling her nostrils.

Mr. Patterson sat up in bed, half of his hospital gown worn on one arm, the other half draped over his chest, exposing the swath of bandages covering his right shoulder. He was frowning, fumbling with the controls for the bed, punching the button that raised his feet. “Damned bed has a mind of its own.” He hit another button and the other end of the bed lowered. “Goddamn it!”

“Mr. Patterson?” Sadie called out softly.

He glanced up, his frown deepening. “I hope you have news about that son of a bitch who shot me.”

“Sorry, but I don’t.”

“Then why the hell did you come all the way to Bozeman?”

She fought the grin teasing the corners of her mouth. The man had the personality of an angry badger even back when Sadie had been a teen, hanging out at the barn, waiting for Hank to finish his chores. Time and age hadn’t softened his edges one bit. If anything, they were even sharper.

“I came to see how you were feeling,” she said.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” he groused. “Got hay to stack in the barn, the first snow is right around the corner and I can’t use my arm. The doc says I might not get full use of it…ever.” Lloyd laid his hand over the bandages and winced. “What’s he know anyway? He’s young enough to be my son. I’ll get a second opinion before I accept that quack’s sentence.”

“I’m sorry about your arm, Mr. Patterson.” Though she was quite grown up, Sadie couldn’t bring herself to call the man by his given name. As Hank’s father, he would always be Mr. Patterson to her. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

The grouch glanced down at the controls again and punched a button. Once again, the foot of the bed rose, tipping him backward. “You can get me the hell out of here before this bed kills me.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not up to me. Allie and the doctor will have to spring you.” Sadie closed the distance between her and the bed and took the controls from him. “What is it you’re trying to do?”

“I want to sit up, not put my feet over my confounded head.”

Sadie studied the directions and pressed the button to lower his feet, and another that raised his head. “Better?”

“A little higher,” he muttered.

She pressed again and the head of the bed rose a little higher.

“There,” he said.

Sadie handed him the control and pointed to one of the buttons. “When you get tired, press that one, and the head of the bed will go down.” She fussed with the sheet and blanket, pulling them up around his chest. The air was cool in the room and his skin was puckered with gooseflesh.

“I can do that,” he said, brushing her away. “I still have one good arm.”

“Yes, sir.” She set her purse on a chair, reached for the plastic pitcher of water, filled his cup and set it within his reach on the bedside table.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I thought I might visit with you for a while. I’m sure you must be bored out of your mind, lying in bed when you’re used to being out working from dawn to dusk.”

“You got that right. But I don’t need some Hollywood actress to entertain me.”

She nodded. “I’m not here as an entertainer. Just here as a friend.” Sadie sat in the chair beside the bed and pulled a magazine about ranching out of her purse. She’d borrowed it from her brother’s stack of reading material. The man tried to keep up with the cattle industry and best practices for raising livestock and the crops to feed them. “You don’t mind if I read out loud, do you?”