Chapter Seventeen
She felt the emptiness of Sanctuary. Deacon had taken the ranch hands out to round up cattle in the far north pasture. They’d be camping there tonight, but Deacon would not. All of the SEALs had departed, along with Mason, Grady and the staff at the main house.
No one saw a need to evacuate the ranch or farm personnel since those areas were separated from the treatment facilities. Etta stood at the screen door and looked outside. It was quiet, almost too quiet.
“It’s going to be fine.”
JJ’s voice had her turning her head to look at him. Good Lord. He had a towel around his hips and was using another to dry his hair. They’d been like teenagers who had suddenly been presented with a chance to be home alone, and had made love in every room in the house. Seeing him standing there with water droplets still clinging to his skin and that towel draped low on his hips certainly was an enticing sight, but she was oddly uneasy.
Was it the quiet or just the wait? “I know,” she finally responded to his statement.
“They wouldn’t come during the day.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Then why don’t you sound convinced?”
“I don’t know. I—I just need something to do. I know. What would you think about us taking care of your exit interview? I have to do one final assessment before I can sign your discharge.”
“Sure. Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you, uh, where? Here?”
“My office. I’ll head on over.”
“Why don’t you wait? I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be fine. Take your time. I need to take care of some notes. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Okay, no more than ten.”
She went to him, gave him a quick kiss, then left the house and made the short walk to her office. It wasn’t until she closed the door behind her that she realized it had been standing open. That was odd. She always closed and locked her door. Had she forgotten?
Apparently so. She sat down at the desk, turned on her computer, and accessed JJ’s files. It took a few minutes to type up her notes from their last session, then she sat back and stared at the screen. Was she making a mistake here?
Deacon had volunteered to stay on the ranch, in the off chance that the enemy made a move against them before the SEALs returned. So had JJ, Mason, and Grady. She’d convinced Mason and Grady to leave by telling them she was almost certain the enemy wouldn’t take a chance on moving against them in the light. They’d wait until night.
She almost convinced herself of that. Almost. Now she found herself wishing she had talked JJ and Deacon into leaving. Call it crazy, but the back of her neck had been tingling for the last hour and she was starting to feel very edgy. So much so that she unlocked the top drawer of her desk, removed the handgun, checked the clip, and then rose from her seat. She crammed the gun between the seat cushion and the frame of the chair she always sat in during the sessions.
Etta heard footsteps and started to make a move for the gun when the cook for the main house, Karen Simpson, stuck her head in the door. “Hey, want me to prepare dinner for you and Mr. Jacks?”
Ah ha! Etta wondered if Karen realized she’d just given herself away. Mason had made a point of giving staff the night off and paid for them all to have dinner in town and a night at one of the nicer hotels that had been put up just outside of Cotton Creek.
Karen shouldn’t be here. Nor should she know that JJ was with Etta.
“No, but thanks. I’ll rummage around and find something.”
“It’s really no bother.”
“I appreciate it, Karen, but I’m fine. Take the night off, go have dinner in town, or just relax and do whatever you want.”
“Okay, if you’re sure?”
“I am, thank you.”
Etta watched Karen leave and even followed her out into the hallway to make sure Karen left the building. Her mind was in a whirl. Karen’s record was clean. She’d never been out of the country, been arrested, or even flagged for possible subversive behavior or beliefs from her data on social media. She was single, her last job had been at a private clinic in Connecticut, and she had good references.
What had they missed? If the leak was Karen, how did she become involved with terrorists? It didn’t make sense.
A knock at the door had her hurrying back to her desk. “Come in.”
The door opened and JJ entered. “You ready?”
She decided to keep her suspicions to herself for the moment. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she was jumping to erroneous conclusions, and she wanted to fully think it out before she said anything.
“I am.” She rose, picked up her tablet, took her customary seat beside the window, and waited for him to sit.
“All right, what?” he asked.
“Now, you tell me. Do you think you’re ready for active duty?”
“I do.”
She nodded. “How long has it been since your last panic attack?”
His brows drew together for a few moments. “I don’t know. More than two weeks and the last one lasted about thirty seconds. Do you think I’m ready?”
A loud wham accompanied her office door suddenly opening and swinging back hard against the wall. Three black-hooded men with weapons poured into the room. What the hell? They had to have already been here to make a move so soon after Karen left.
“Get on the floor!” one of them yelled. “On your knees.”
Etta immediately complied, watching JJ as she slid out of her chair and onto the floor.
JJ hadn’t moved. His eyes were narrowed and his body tense, but she didn’t sense any panic. Just rage that was getting hotter and deeper by the second.
“I said on the floor!” one of the men shouted at him and then bounded over to Etta, grabbed her hair, and wrenched her head back.
JJ stood and the other two leveled weapons at him. The man holding Etta spoke again. “Do what you’re told, or she dies.”
When he pressed the barrel of his gun against the side of her head, Etta felt JJ’s rage explode. White hot. A split second later, he flew into motion, grabbed the wrist of the man closest to him and did something that caused the man to release his weapon.
JJ yanked the man in front of him, bending the man’s wrist up painfully behind his back. “Move away from her.” He pointed the gun at the man holding the weapon on Etta.
Her captor laughed. “Say goodbye to the bitch.”
“Fuck you.” JJ pulled the trigger.
By the time Etta had scrambled to her chair and yanked the gun out of its hiding place, JJ had shot the man he was holding and was exchanging fire with the last remaining intruder.
She saw JJ’s body flinch and knew he’d been hit. With a howl of rage and fear, she bounded to her feet, took aim, and started squeezing the trigger.
Her bullets made the intruder’s body jerk and twist and she kept firing until he fell. A split second later, so did JJ.
“JJ!” She scrambled on hands and knees to him. Blood was pouring from wounds in his chest and right leg. She shook him, but he didn’t respond.
She bit back the scream that rose, trying not to be swallowed by fear and something dark and deadly that reached for her from the past, trying to drag her back to the bad times, the times when she’d fought and lost.
Etta stripped off her shirt and tied it above the wound in JJ’s leg. The chest wound wasn’t bleeding as much so she jumped up and made a dash for the desk and the landline. Her fingers trembled as she dialed and twice she misdialed.
She was in tears by the time Deacon answered. “What’s up, Etta?”
“Get here. Now.” She didn’t bother to say why, nor did she bother to hang up the phone. She just dropped it and ran to JJ, sitting beside him to place her hand over the wound on his leg.
His breathing grew fainter and his skin started to lose color. The slower his breathing became, the more hers increased. She felt panic building and pressing in. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”
As if the words would prevent what she feared the most, she repeated them over and over. Sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes, and nausea bubbled up her throat. Her heart beat so fast, she felt like it was trying to batter its way out of her chest.
Her entire body jerked when she realized JJ’s chest wasn’t moving. “No, no, no, no, no.” She moved her hand from his wound, got onto her knees and started CPR. “Come back, come back. Please come back.” The words puffed out in rhythm with the chest compressions.
Etta leaned over to breathe into his mouth, then sat back. “No, you can’t die, JJ. You can’t die.” She started the chest compressions again.
A touch on her shoulder had her throwing herself over JJ protectively. Strong hands pulled her back and she fought against it. “Let go! I have to help him. Let go of me!”
“Etta, it’s me. It’s Deacon.”
“No!” She tried to break free, but he was too strong.
“Dillon’s with me.”
Etta tore way as Dillon cut JJ’s shirt and readied the paddles on the portable defib unit. Etta watched JJ’s body jerk. Dillon put the stethoscope to JJ’s chest and shook his head.
“Hit him again,” Etta ordered.
Twice more, Dillion tried, and twice more, there was no reaction.
“Again!” Etta shouted.
“Etta, stop.” Deacon said. “He’s gone honey. He’s gone.”
That last word rang through her mind like an endless echo. Visions of her mother lying dead on the floor, her father’s body slumped in the chair where he was bound, and Gabe’s face as the bullet she fired pierced his brain. And finally, JJ, lying on the floor with his skin going pale and waxy. It all swirled and twisted and turned and then a pain started in her head and she thought it would explode.
Etta screamed and clamped her hands to her head. That’s when she heard it. Her father. Don’t you give up, Etta. There’s still life in him and you can bring him back. You can do it. I believe in you.
“Dad?” She opened her eyes, pushed away from Deacon, and dived down beside Dillon. “Do you have an epi?”
“In my bag.”
Etta snatched up the bag and found the syringe. She jammed it into JJ’s chest and pressed the plunger. “Come on, JJ,” she whispered. “Please. Please come back.”
When his body lurched, her whole body jerked right along with him. JJ’s eyes flew open and he sucked in air greedily.
“Oxygen!” Etta screamed even as Dillon was taking a portable unit from the bag.
Sudden movement from the door had her wrenching around, putting herself between JJ and whoever was there.
“It’s okay.” Deacon knelt to take her arm and pull her to her feet. “It’s the EMTs.”
She let him tug her to one side as Dillon filled in the EMTs on JJ’s condition and they got him loaded onto a stretcher. Within minutes, they were wheeling him outside to the waiting ambulance.
“I need to go.” Etta tried to pry Deacon’s hands from her, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Let them do their job, Etta. I’ll take you after you’ve cleaned up.”
His words stopped her cold and she looked down at herself. Her hands, arms, and the front of her clothing were coated in blood. In JJ’s blood. Dear God, how could he live having lost so much blood?
“Deacon?” The enormity of it sent a wave of unwanted memories crashing over her again and she staggered. “Help.”
The feel of him catching her as she fell was her last moment of awareness.