Reckless Endangerment (10 page)

“I need to get someone, get help,” she said.

He shook his head no.  He had caused enough trouble and knew that this situation wouldn’t help.  “You.”

“Me?”  Eyes widened with surprise.  “That’s not a good idea, babe.  I’m not qualified for this.”

“You.”  Burning pain ripped up his spinal column and erupted in the back of his head. 

“Okay, me.  I can do this.  I’ve done harder things, right?  I mean...fine.  I can do this.”  Hands moved over his chest as she surveyed the situation.  She crawled around him and grabbed his shoulders.  With a yank, she pulled him free of the chair.

He couldn’t help her because spasm after spasm seized up his entire torso.  Helpless, he watched her move around him muttering about being a walking disaster and getting in trouble and being kicked out. 

Chair upright, she stood over him, hair a wild mess, and the curve of her breasts visible beneath the open blouse.   He was certain he’d had a fantasy like this once or twice.

“I should just get the hell out of here before Becky comes back and let you explain this yourself.  Can you help me at all?  What’s happening?  Did I do this?”

“No.”  Despite the agony, he pushed himself up onto his elbows.  “Lift me.  C’mon.  You’re always saying you can do anything, right?”

“I did it before.”  She grinned and squatted next to him. “Of course then we were dodging bullets and fleeing for our lives.  I had the strength of a thousand men.”

“Becky’s pretty scary.”

“True. Okay, let’s try.  I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t.”  He squeezed his eyes closed when another spasm ripped his remaining strength from him. 

Legs on either side of his hips, she lifted while he pushed against the floor with his free hand.  Somehow he ended up half on the chair and half on top of her.  Both breathing hard, they disentangled their various limbs before he finally sat in the chair again. 

She sank to the ground and rested her head against his knee.  “We need to get you to the bed, right?” 

He couldn’t say anything as the fist of the Devil himself squeezed his chest in two. 

“Yep.  Bed.” She pushed his chair into the bedroom.  “Thank God for hospital beds, at least right now, right?” She smoothed her hands over his face.  “I’m going to get someone.  A nurse. Someone with pain pills. You don’t need me right now.”

He snagged her hand when she would have pulled away.  “You can do it.  C’mon, babe. Don’t quit on me now.”

With a muttered curse, she looped her arms beneath his shoulders again.  Together they maneuvered him onto the bed.  She sat next to him, head bent, hair shielding her face.  She buttoned her shirt while catching her breath. 

“I’m a lot of work.  I told you so,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, making out in the chair is a bad idea.” Eyes sad, she looked at him.  “I’m not scared off.  Whether you’re throwing things, falling on the floor or telling me to go to hell, you do not scare me.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Well, maybe a little bit.” She grinned before standing up.  “Thank God I have a hot tub.  I need a good soak after that work out you just gave me.”

“I wish it could have been a different kind of work out,” he said without thinking.

“Oh, that will come. Trust me.”  She pointed a finger at him.  “I’ll be back.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked as another spasm tore him in half. His fingers curled into the sheets at his side.

And then she was gone.  Just like that.  As if she’d only been a dream.

Chapter Six

Cold wind slapped against her face as she walked toward her jeep.  Storm clouds gathered over the mountains on the horizon.  Sleet fell sporadically onto the ground and she wondered if Michael would use that as an excuse to avoid life.  Spring in Colorado meant unpredictability, which pretty much summed up his attitude.

She zipped her leather jacket and tightened the yellow scarf around her neck.  Only a few other vehicles occupied the parking lot.  She scanned the perimeter out of habit as tiny pinpricks of awareness stirred at the back of her neck. With a chill that had nothing to do with the weather, she remembered what the senator had said to her last night.  She stopped short when she noticed the white envelope beneath the windshield wipers of her Jeep.

With another look over her shoulder, she noticed Devon’s Prius driving into the spot beside her.  She pulled the envelope free.  Heavy.  She raised her eyebrow at Devon before once again glancing around the parking lot. 

“Weird,” she said.  “What are you doing here?”

“Did you get a present?  Open it.”  Devon shifted her weight from foot to foot and pulled her sleeves over her hands.  “Looks like it’s going to storm.”

“What are you doing here, Dev?  And how did you know I’d be here?”

“You told me you were going to be here.”  Devon frowned at her.  “Remember?  Family emergency, going to New Horizons.  Is Becky okay?”

She had no recollection of saying anything like that to Devon.  

“I need a good eight hours of sleep, but I’d settle for two.”  Rattled from the day’s events, she rubbed her fingers against her forehead and forced herself to focus when all she wanted to do was curl up and slip into a drug-induced coma.  “So what came up?  Get a lead about the accident this morning?”

“Open the envelope first. How can you be so patient?”

“Practice,” she said.  “A lot of practice.”

With a firm shake of the envelope, pictures scattered onto the hood of the Jeep.  Pictures of women and children huddled into the back of a van, no room to move.  Dirty faces peered out from the dark.  Children with haunted eyes.  Women with broken spirits chained to beds
.
Human trafficking.  Modern day slavery.  Dangerous business. 

“Look at these two.”  Devon held out two pictures with mountain backdrops.  She pointed at the rock outcroppings with a river running through them.  “I know this place…I swear.”

“Me, too.  It’s familiar.”  She captured her lower lip between her teeth. 

The valley looked familiar, like she’d been there once. Jagged peaks.

“What are you thinking?”  Devon squinted, fingers tapping on the hood.  “You look bothered.”

“Why us?  Why not the police or the FBI?” Her mind clicked away possible scenarios. “I don’t like it. People died this morning in that wreck.  Why us?”  

“You’re famous whether you want to admit it or not, It Girl.”  Devon leaned her shoulder against hers.  “Maybe whoever is doing this thought you’d take them seriously, get them the publicity they need.”

“And the FBI wouldn’t?”  A bad feeling shivered over her skull. 

“How many people used to watch you report from Afghanistan and then on Dateline?  People know you.  You’re less scary than the FBI.”

“Less scary, hmm?”  Her gaze drifted toward the New Horizons Institute.  “I really don’t like being followed.  Where I go on my off time is my business, regardless of who wants help for whatever reason.  Stop calling me It Girl.  I hate that.”

“I know you do.”  Devon scooped up the photographs and stuffed them back into the envelope.  “This is getting exciting.”

“It is, isn’t it?”  She grinned despite herself.

Maybe Michael wasn’t the only one who was a bit crazy these days.  The thrill of a good story energized her in ways that no drug could equal.  She fingered the picture of the women chained to beds surrounded by filth.  The thought of them out there somewhere--maybe close to Denver--motivated her to do what she did best, root out the truth. 

“Look at this.”  Devon handed her a note.  “Someone left this for us at the front desk at work.  Security camera didn’t get a clear shot and the receptionist couldn’t remember any details.”

“Someone wants to meet us in City Park tomorrow night.”  She sighed at the time, midnight.  Why did questionable characters always want to meet at midnight?  Between the early morning wake up call and the pseudo-emergency with Michael, her patience was shot.  “Weird.  Why City Park? Why tomorrow night?  Why not now?  Why the games?  Do you think it’s the same person who left us this envelope or someone else?  Why do they want to meet us? They don’t say why or who they are in the note.  Could be a set-up.”

“Are you talking to me or yourself?  I can’t tell.” Devon looked through the scattered pictures with a frown.  “Your call.  Do we go or not go?”

“I came here to lay low, you know, not do anything dangerous.”  She looked at the entrance to the institute and thought of Michael.  Leaving him in agony had been hard.  She’d wanted to stay but had felt useless. Maybe the only thing she was good at was digging up a story because so far she sucked at being a wife.  “I need a vacation that involves a hammock and tequila shots.”

“Cabo. Let’s go when this is done.  Pick up some hot men.”

“Sounds so simple, doesn’t it?” She couldn’t remember the last time her life had been simple.  Mykonos maybe?  Sunsets, ouzo, friends and a man who loved her.  Greece.  Another life.  “I need a nap. I picked up some melatonin and tequila on my way over here.  We have another live shot at six, though, so I suppose it needs to wait.”

“Tequila and melatonin?” Devon laughed.  “I’m half-scared of you, Shane.”

“If you only knew…” The nagging thought that Michael was in danger because of her persisted.  With a sigh, she gathered the photos and shoved them into the envelope.  “It’s only three in the afternoon.  We’ll decide tomorrow about City Park.  I need to think about it and right now I’m scattered.”

“Why do you keep looking at the institute?  Family emergency still going on?”

At the sight of Becky coming down the steps, she sighed.  “Here comes trouble.”

“I had better go.  Your sister doesn’t like me much.” Devon shook the keys in her hand.  “Get some sleep.  You look paler than usual.”

“Even more reason to take a vacation.”  She rubbed her forehead and frowned as Becky jogged across the parking lot.  “I’ll meet you for the live shot, Dev.  I’ll drive myself.”

Mentally preparing for Becky’s onslaught, she tossed her bag and the envelope into the front passenger seat.  Questions, more questions.  She liked asking them but hated answering.

“I’m glad I caught up with you.  What’s your producer doing here?”  Becky stood, hands on hips and out of breath.

“For a physical therapist, your cardio is pitiful.  You should jog with me sometime.”  She retrieved her sunglasses from the dash and shoved them on before meeting her sister’s gaze through tinted lenses.  “What do you want, Beck? I need to go.”

“I need to know what your relationship is with the Colonel.”  Becky looked as frustrated as she felt.  Panting, she leaned against the front of the jeep. 

Gritting her teeth, she nodded at Devon when she honked before leaving the scene.  “Speaking of Michael, that was one hell of a drama I interrupted.  Not very professional, Beck.”

“I know I crossed a line.” Dressed in purple scrubs that matched the dark circles beneath her eyes and with her black hair protruding in random intervals from her face, she looked like she’d had a very bad day.  “But what about you?  What’s your link to him?  Why is your producer here?  Is that it?  Is he just a story to you, a wartime hook up that ended up getting you an Emmy?  Don’t talk to me about ethics when you’re using sex to further your career.”

“Screw you.” Fatigue gave way to fury at the flippant accusation.  God help her, she wanted to push her sister to the ground and fight like they used to as teenagers, complete with hair pulling and scratching.  Instead she kicked the front tire and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Oh, that’s mature.  Screw you?  That’s what you say?  No wonder you can hang with Marines and the good ol’ boys network.  Let me guess, you smoke, drink whiskey and fight, too?”

“When necessary.” She bit the inside of her lip. 

“Yesterday he wouldn’t even speak to any of us, not even his family.  Then you come strolling in with God only knows what in that bag of yours and…what?  Throw promises of sex in his face?  Was he a good lay in Afghanistan? Because, little sister, he is not that man anymore.  He has a long way to go.”

Snap.  That did it.  She grabbed a fistful of Becky’s scrubs and pulled her close.  “Don’t ever say that about Michael. Ever. He is more of a man than anyone I’ve ever known and our relationship goes beyond sex, do you hear me?”

“Let go of me. I work here.  People know me.  You’re embarrassing me.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.  What the hell do you know about me?  What do you know about him?  What do you know about a war zone?  Nothing.  You don’t care to know the truth about any of it. “  She pressed close to her older sister. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, but you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

“You love this guy.  Is that what you’re saying?”  Becky’s face twisted with a confused awareness.  “Oh my God, you two are in love with each other.”

She shoved herself away from Becky and looked around the parking lot. Every sense was on high alert.  Someone watched this scene unfolding.  She would bet her life on it.