Chapter 19
Jason darted across the small airport, following the sound of the gunshots to a hangar. Tayla’s quick footfalls confirmed she was right on his heels. He slowed when they approached a side door to the hangar.
Tayla sidled up to him, and he lowered his mouth to her ear. “I don’t want to leave you out here in the open. Follow me inside. When we’re inside, you’re going to hide while I check things out, okay?”
She nodded. And looked scared. Understandable.
He eased open the door, thanking God that it didn’t squeak.
Gripping his weapon, he led Tayla inside and shut the door. It was dark. Quiet. And eerie.
Their view of most of the hangar was blocked by the one engine plane closest to the side door.
He scanned the area around them for a place to hide Tayla. The hanger didn’t offer many options. A few feet away was a four foot tall rolling cart of tools. And one folding chair. Not much, but it would have to do.
He motioned for Tayla to crouch behind the tool cart. She crept to the back of the cart and disappeared in its shadow.
Satisfied with Tayla’s position, he skirted the one engine plane and took in the rest of the hanger. High windows filtered in just enough moonlight to keep the expanse of the hanger from complete darkness.
He squinted in the dim light, replaying the gunshots they’d heard only seconds ago, over and over in his head. Two different weapons. He was sure of that.
He noted the outline of two more doors exiting the hangar. What if they—
“Noooo!” Tayla’s bloodcurdling scream lit his nerves on fire.
He raced to her voice, his heart threatening to kick a hole in his chest.
He found her bent over a prone, unmoving Leland. Thirteen’s body sprawled unnaturally on the floor a few feet away.
She looked up as he approached. “He’s breathing! He’s still breathing!”
He wanted to drop next to her and tend to Leland, but he needed to confirm Thirteen wasn’t a threat.
In the space of a second—as if the assassin had read his mind—Thirteen rolled to his side and pointed his gun straight at Tayla.
Jason’s world tilted.
He thrust himself between Thirteen and Tayla. And fired. A second later than Gus’s killer.
Which explained the explosion of pain in his arm.
Scanning the motionless assassin, he confirmed Thirteen was, without question, no longer a threat. He kicked the man’s gun away from his body—though entirely unnecessary.
“Jason!” The strain in Tayla’s voice pulled him to her side. He knelt beside her, his knees in Leland’s blood. His own blood running down his arm. She gaped at his wound. Color drained from her face. “You’ve been shot.”
“I’m okay. How’s Leland?”
Terror and tears welled in her eyes, but her determination rang loud and clear. “He’s going to make it. I slowed the bleeding.”
He noted her bloody hands keeping pressure on Leland’s wound. “Good work. I’m calling an ambulance. Keep pressure on it.”
“Your arm . . .” Her voice cracked.
He fumbled one-handed with his phone. Then motion to his left pulled his attention to the hanger door. Knox!
Thank you, God!
Knox took a double take at Thirteen.
“Not a threat,” Jason said.
“No kidding. How’s Leland?”
“I’m calling an ambulance. Help Tayla.”
Jason called for an ambulance, then checked Leland’s pulse. “I wish it was stronger, but it’s there. Ambulance should get here quick. We’re not far from the hospital.”
Knox nudged his good arm. “Hey, I’ve got Leland. Let Tayla look at your arm.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, honey badger, you’ll live. But you’re bleeding. We don’t need you passing out. Let her—”
“I’ve got it,” Tayla said, with more authority than he expected of her in the moment. With a loud rip, she enlarged the hole in his sleeve. Her brows formed a hard line as she eyed the gunshot wound.
“Tayla, you don’t need to do anything. The ambulance will—”
“Hang on,” she interrupted. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
No response. She’d darted across the hangar. He couldn’t see her anymore. He stood.
“Don’t,” Knox said.
“What?”
“She’s probably sick or something. I shouldn’t have suggested she look at your arm. Give her a minute. She probably thought Leland was dead a few minutes ago. Then she saw you get shot. Just give her some sp—”
“Found it,” Tayla said, rushing back. Out of breath. She plopped down a metal box and threw back the lid.
A first aid kit.
“Where did you find that?” Jason asked, watching her tear open some gauze pads.
“I noticed it near the door when we first came in.” She handed Knox some gauze pads. He looked as impressed as Jason felt. Next, she gingerly applied a gauze pad to Jason’s arm.
He didn’t mean to wince.
“I’m so sorry. It’s going to hurt,” she said, applying pressure. “I have to—”
“I know. You’re doing great. Thanks.” He tried to nudge her hand away. “I can hold it.”
She grasped his wrist and pulled it away. “Jason, I’ve got this. Just hold still.” Readjusting to cover his wound with both hands, she focused on his arm for a beat, then her gaze traveled to his face.
The look in her eyes slew every doubt he’d ever harbored about God not wanting him to love again. In the middle of so much tragedy, the peace on her face reached all the way to his core.
The corners of her mouth tipped up. And tears ran down her face. “You saved my life. You saved Leland’s life. If you hadn’t stopped him,” her eyes darted to Thirteen, then back to his, “he would have killed us both.” Her voice hitched and failed her. But her lips mouthed ‘thank you.’
He didn’t trust himself to respond, so he brushed a thumb across her cheek with his free hand and pressed his lips to her forehead. The sound of sirens made him ease back.
They both turned to Leland.
Knox looked grim. He nodded toward the approaching emergency vehicles. “They need to hurry.
Knox handed Tayla some local currency and suggested she get something to eat from the vending machine down the hall. They’d been pacing the hospital waiting room for thirty minutes. Apparently, Tayla looked hungry.
She wasn’t.
Leland was still in surgery. Food was the last thing on her mind. She hadn’t even been allowed to see Jason yet. His wound hadn’t seemed very serious. Did she miss something? Should it be taking so long?
She was about to tell Knox ‘no, thank you,’ when she noticed his attention riveted on the opposite hallway.
Eric walked toward them.
Oh. That’s why Knox wanted her to leave.
The fear pulsing through her must have manifested on her face.
Knox gripped her elbow. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got this. Please trust me. I’ve known Eric a long time. He’s got a lot to answer for, but he’s not going to hurt you. Just give us a few minutes, okay?”
She didn’t have much choice. She tried not to concentrate on the likelihood that the two men she loved wouldn’t be in the hospital if it weren’t for Eric Kitt’s deception.
Wait. Love?
Maybe she did need something to eat.
“Okay, I’ll just be down the hall.” She grabbed Knox’s money and left the waiting room.
Standing in the glow of the vending machine, a cacophony of worries, what-ifs, and fears shouted in her brain—making it nearly impossible to concentrate on the choices in front of her. Trail mix, crackers, or chocolate cookies.
Should she trust Eric Kitts at all? Should Knox be talking to him?
Why did the doctor have to look so grim when he saw Leland on the gurney?
Was Leland going to be okay? Why did surgeries always take so long?
Why was Jason taking so long? Was Dylan Kitts still in police custody? What if he showed up?
Trail mix.
She’d managed to make a decision, trivial as it was. Not that it would solve anything. Except the rumbling in her stomach. She fished her snack out of the machine. And wished she didn’t feel so helpless to help Leland and Jason.
“Hey.”
She spun at the sound of Jason’s voice. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried. You were back there a long time.” She eyed his bandaged arm sitting in a sling. “Are you in pain?”
“They gave me something for the pain. Any update on Leland?”
She shook her head. “He’s still in surgery.”
“Are you alright?“ The overwhelming concern in his low, husky timbre sent her scrambling for a more heartfelt reply than, ‘yes.’ But her brain and emotions were pretty fried from the night’s events.
“Yeah, yes, I’m okay.” Then she remembered. “But Jason . . . Eric is here. In the waiting room. Knox is talking to him.”
His jaw tensed. “I’m not surprised.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I need to talk to him. He’ll speak more freely if you’re—”
“Not there. I understand. I’ll give you a few minutes. But come get me right away if the nurse brings an update on Leland.”
The tenderness in his eyes broke through the tension about Eric, Leland, and everything else. “Tayla, I’m sorry I keep saying ‘stay here, I’ll be back.’ I’ve sounded like a broken record these past few days.”
“But you always come back. Every time.”
“I always will.”
He held her gaze. And suddenly, she knew he was talking about more than tonight. A lot more.
He wasn’t Spence. He was the opposite of Spence. Trustworthy. Loyal. A protector.
“I know you will,” she whispered.
“You said he was dead.” Yes, that’s how Jason wanted to begin his conversation with Eric. No greetings. No pleasantries.
He noted the swelling flesh around his boss’s left eye. And felt no remorse whatsoever. About the eye. But guilt coated his frustrations about not suspecting Eric’s lies.
Knox stood rigid next to him. Arms crossed. “He wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here. Except,” he lifted his chin toward Eric, “that he found Enzo and let him go.”
Eric turned to Jason. “After you three left, we had no reason to hold him.”
“We?” asked Jason. “You use that word like we’re all on the same side.”
Eric’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“You said your cousin was dead,” Jason repeated. He willed his anger to simmer before it boiled over.
Eric gave an almost imperceptible nod. “You have every right to be livid. I don’t blame you.”