Cowboy gritted his teeth as he focused on the device connected to the side of the building. He refused to let his mind wander as he carefully removed the insulating cover of the wire bridging the remote detonator and the C4 load nestled underneath. Nudging the wire cutters between the bundle of wires, he held his breath and cut the connection.

The light blinked off. Letting the breath go, he stood and backed away from the now disarmed device. Once he reached the perimeter, he released the fasteners and dropped the protective gear gratefully to the ground. It was heavy and hot, and he was relieved to get it off. He'd argued against wearing it, citing that he was used to combat situations where he had to do his job without it, but the officials insisted.

"Dixon is going to laugh his ass off when I tell him Albanian mobsters did use bombs," Cowboy muttered to himself. He wiped his sweaty face with the bottom of his borrowed shirt. He'd spent the last three hours helping the state police bomb squad defuse a dozen or so of the professional bombs scattered over the property.

Digger handed him his cell phone, keys and weapon. "Darton said that was the last one they could find, but the bomb squad is making another sweep. They have everything under control. Why don't you head over to the hospital?"

"Yeah, I will in a minute." Cowboy replaced his holster on his hip and dropped his keys into his pocket. Turning, they watched as the coroner wheeled a gurney by with a black body bag on top. "How many?"

"Six, including Tariq Hoxha. After the first bomb went off, Darton killed the cell reception. He was standing there in the hallway, screaming and pressing the button when they stormed the house. He didn't go down without a fight."

"And Loran?"

"Gone." Ronald Darton, the FBI agent in charge of the operation growled as he stopped next to them. "Looks like you may have hit him but judging from the amount of blood we found, it was probably just a flesh wound. In the chaos afterwards, he must have slipped away. We found a room behind a false wall in the kitchen with a tunnel leading to a garage near the highway. Pretty sure he got away through there."

"Damn it," Cowboy swore softly. "Son of a bitch!"

"Yeah and it gets a little worse." Darton tossed a bottle to Cowboy who caught it.

The brown pill container was half filled with round tablets. Cowboy read the label and frowned. "Clozapine? That sounds familiar."

"It's an antipsychotic used primarily for schizophrenia. We found that in Loran's room along with three other medications used for the same thing."

Cowboy gripped the bottle so tight the plastic cracked. "I knew the bastard had to be crazy."

"Seems that way."

Cowboy handed the bottle back. "I'm going to the hospital to see about Miley. If you need me, that's where I'll be."

"I'll come by later," Darton told him. "I want to have a talk with the EPA agent Hoxha bought. State boys picked him up outside Laramie. He's got a lot of questions to answer."

"Sounds good." Cowboy nodded to them, then jogged to where Davis waited in the rental SUV to take him home. After he got his shower, he would head over to Cody and visit Miley. Though he knew she was okay, he knew he would feel a lot better once he had her safely in his arms again.

"I'm okay, Alcide. Quit hovering."

Each time he looked at her bruised face, Cowboy had to convince himself that Miley was all right. Well, not all right, exactly, but at least she was alive and she would eventually heal. He continued to mentally berate his stupidity in not bringing her to the ranch last night or going to her trailer to watch over her. Foolishly, he had thought Hoxha wouldn't find out about the meeting and that Miley was safe. That foolishness had almost cost her life. It was one mistake he wouldn't be making again.

Cowboy sat back in the chair and tapped his fingers on the arm. After a few minutes, he stood and adjusted Miley's pillow causing her to growl at him. "Would you please sit down?"

"No," he said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away with her good arm. "Stop it. I'm fine. I lost some blood and went into shock. It's okay."

"It could have been a lot worse."

"But it wasn't. You couldn't have done anything to stop it. You aren't Superman."

"No, but I could have done a damn better job of keeping you safe. It was inexcusable."

She shook her head and turned the volume down on the television. "You need to let it go. You had no way of knowing Loran was coming after me last night. We both thought he would wait before trying anything else. Everyone was confident he wasn't going to know what was going on until everything was in place. It's. Not. Your. Fault."

"If I hadn't sent those pictures to Tex..."

"Stop it. You had no way of knowing that the buck would be passed all the way down to Tariq's man's desk. It's not your fault."

Cowboy shrugged and dropped back into the chair, his fingers never stopping their drumming. He was on edge, nervous and just plain pissed off. It irritated the hell out of him that Loran hurt Miley and gotten away. By the time he pulled into the parking lot in Cody, that irritation had turned to a smoldering fury. While it was true they had managed to break up Hoxha's operation, he would feel better if the younger Hoxha was in custody or even better, lying next to his brother in the morgue in Laramie.

Walking to her room, Cowboy worked out the apologies he was going to offer to Miley: apologies for not ensuring her safety, for not going with her in the helicopter and for not being here when she woke up. He would explain to her that he had his duty as an EOD to make sure the explosive devices were taken care of. Every word flew from his head the moment he entered her room and saw her sitting up with a huge bandage over her left shoulder and a gorgeous smile on her battered face. That smile broadened when she saw him.

Her grandfather had come and gone, bringing Jessie with him. During their visit, Cowboy went in search for coffee to give them some time alone. He was used to being up for long stretches at a time, but the infusion of caffeine was welcomed. They had a nice conversation while Miley napped, then left an hour ago, leaving Miley and Cowboy in the room alone.

There was a gentle rap on the door. Cowboy leaped to his feet and moved between her bed and the door. He relaxed and returned to the chair when Darton strolled into the room. "Miss Ellison," he inclined his head to her. "I hope you're feeling better."

"I am, Mr. Darton, thank you."

He smiled then turned to a man standing behind him. Taking a folder from his hands, Darton lifted his chin. The second agent nodded and left, closing the door behind. Taking a seat in the only empty chair, he opened the folder and placed it at the foot of Miley's bed. Taking out a small recording device, he spoke into it, giving her name, the date, and location. Placing it on the bed, he sat back. "Please tell me about last night."

Over the course of about an hour, Miley explained everything that had happened since the knock on her door at midnight. Darton asked several questions which she answered as completely as possible. Once he was satisfied with the interview, he turned off the device and returned it to his pocket. "I'll get this transcribed then have you read it over and sign it."

"All right," Miley let out a relieved breath and relaxed against the pillow. "Now what?"

"Here's what we were able to piece together so far. When Tariq Hoxha split from Kreshnik Bushati, the mobster wasn't happy. He put an extremely large price on his head leaving Hoxha only two options to stay alive. He could buy more muscle to ensure his safety, or he could buy out the contract on his head. The slight to Bushati's pride wouldn't let the insult go. Albanians believe in blood debts. The amount of money it would take to purchase the contract would probably bankrupt several small nations."

Darton shuffled through his papers before continuing. "So, Hoxha had to raise a lot of money in a short amount of time. It's ironic he turned to Bushati for inspiration. Hoxha knew the mob made a lot of money with illegal dumping in the Everglades. There is a lot of money in that business, but a lot of risks. For reputable disposals, there are records, permits, inspections and so forth. All that red tape cuts into the profit margins. However, if you aren't concerned with legalities and have a few thousand acres of mostly empty lands to use, it could be lucrative. He had the perfect place in Greybull - a small, rural community where he could throw around a little money and be left alone."

"Son of a bitch," Miley growled. "That rat bastard."

Cowboy did a double take. He opened his mouth to tease her about her language but decided better when he saw her furious face. Instead, he settled back in the chair and locked his fingers over his stomach.

The agent glanced between them before continuing. "We don't know the full impact of the dumping yet. We already were bringing in an inspector with the EPA, but once those pictures you sent hit the email of a few important people, it lit a fire under them. Our little inquiry turned into a full scale investigation. Once our inspector examined a couple of the dumping grounds, he called in a full task force. They've dispatched two cleanup teams to assess the damage. They don't believe it's leached into the water table yet, but the toxic levels nearest the dumping grounds in the river are pretty alarming. Luckily, three of the six ranches in the danger zone use spring-fed waters for their animals. The other three are being handled as emergencies with Yancy Hillman and Ben Watson being the two most critical. If it wasn't for you, who knows how long it would take before it came to our attention. You saved a lot of lives, Dr. Ellison. Be proud of that."

Cowboy nodded. "I talked to Rissa earlier. She said they're bringing Ben's horses over to our place to stay while the cleanup goes on. The McMillans are taking in what's left of Yancy's herd. He's lost a quarter of them to poisoning."

Miley made a strangled noise. She started to push the cover off with a hiss of pain before Cowboy stopped her. He reached over and placed a hand on her arm. "Woah there, Speedy, where do you think you're going?"

"I need to help. Yancy needs me."

"Jessie and your grandfather are taking care of the herds. They're in good hands. You need to calm down and rest."

"But," she started.

"No buts. Jessie assured me they had everything under control. If they need help, three veterinarians in Cody have volunteered. You worry about getting well."

She harrumphed, but sat back on the bed and glared daggers at Cowboy who conveniently ignored her. Beside him, Darton coughed but kept his nose in the shuffling papers in his hands.

"If you're going to pretend to ignore me, at least tell me what happened after the raid." Miley retorted grumpily.

Cowboy glanced over at Darton. "Still your turn, Hoss."

"As you know, Alcide, Tariq was killed along with several of his men. We have one in custody. Loran Hoxha is in the wind with the last two."

Miley looked at Cowboy, fear in her eyes. "He escaped?"

Cowboy rose to his feet and ran a hand along her cheek. "For now, Miley. They'll find him."

"What if he comes after me?"

"If he's smart, he won't. Right now, he's on the run with little resources. It would be stupid to come after you." Darton's visage was grim. "Without Tariq, he has nobody to run to. He can't return to Miami. He can't stay around here. No, I think you've heard the last of Loran Hoxha." Darton stood. "I'm going to let you get some rest, Dr. Ellison. I need to finish my report." He shook Cowboy's hand then hurried out the door.

"Do you think Loran's really gone?" Miley asked in a soft voice.

"Probably."

A sharp knock on the door made Cowboy turn away from her. "Yes?" he barked.

The door opened, and a woman peeked in. "Delivery for Dr. Ellison." In her arms were a dish garden and two bouquets of flowers including a huge arrangement of tea roses so dark red they looked almost black. The woman placed the arrangements on Miley's rolling table and smiled. "Feel better soon," she called out as she left the room.

"Oh, wow, aren't those beautiful," Miley's smile brightened. "Could you hand me the cards?"

"Sure." Cowboy plucked the cards from the flowers and handed them to her. She opened the first one that came from a large arrangement of mixed blooms. She grinned. "Mom, Dad, and Pop-pop. I'll need to call them to thank them. Do you know where my phone is?"

"I think Rissa found it at your place. She dropped by the trailer to pack you a bag and should be here later this afternoon."

"Okay." Miley opened the second. "Praying for a quick recovery. The Montgomerys. So sweet of your parents. Please tell them thank you for me."

"I will." Cowboy studied the dish garden with a frown. He should have sent her something, himself. It would have been the right thing to do. Maybe he can get something sent up in the morning before she left? Or, maybe he can call Rissa and ask her to stop on her way. She would know what Miley liked.

"Oh my God," Miley gasped.

Cowboy's mind wrenched back to her. Her face was pasty pale, and a sheen of sweat had broken out on her brow. In her fingers, the card trembled until she dropped it to her lap. He snatched it up and read it out loud. "Now I'm king. I'll collect my queen soon."

There was no signature but judging by Miley's complexion, it must have come from Loran. His guess was confirmed when she whispered, "He's not going to leave me alone. He's going to come for me."

Cowboy growled. "Over my dead body."