Chapter 3
Eagle went straight to the spare bedroom, wishing he had more hands available as he struggled to pull back the blanket so he could lay the broken woman on the mattress. She moaned softly as he pulled his arms free from underneath her. He raced to the bathroom, grabbed towels, and returned. With a warm wet washcloth, he quickly dabbed her forehead, checking to see how severe her head wound was. His military experience let him know she likely had a concussion and would possibly need stitches.
He was loathe to call a doctor. And even more so to call the sheriff. He did a complete second check over her body, noting the ankle continued to swell, and the injury was recent. The scratches he assumed were from running. Her feet would need to be soaked to see the extent of that damage. Her ribs were bruised, her arms lacerated, the soft skin on her breasts reddened with angry burn marks. Grimly, he realized she’d likely been held captive somewhere, somehow. And for a long time.
Until she found an opportunity to escape. The shoulder wound was the one that worried him the most. How long had she been tortured? She could have any number of internal injuries he couldn’t see. There was an odd green tinge to the right side of her back near her waistline. That also worried him as did the multiple layers of bruising all over.
The bullet had to come out of her shoulder.
He could handle the rest, but he didn’t want to make a call on that one if he didn’t have to. He didn’t want her to suffer permanent shoulder injury if he could help it.
He gently covered her up, feeling the clammy coolness to her skin. As he pulled the blankets over her, a screech sounded beside him. He turned to find Rikker walking up and down the bed.
“I brought her inside. Now give me a chance to fix her up.”
The falcon tilted his head and stared at Eagle. An intelligence both unnerving and bizarre stared at him.
“I don’t know who and what you are, my friend. Just know I’m not here to hurt her.”
An odd rumble sounded from the falcon’s throat. It fascinated Eagle as he stepped back and pulled the phone from his pocket. He dialed a number he knew by heart. When a grumpy older man answered the phone, Eagle said, “I need you.”
Gray snorted. “That’s nice. Always nice to be wanted by someone.”
“Come here now, as fast as you can. Bring your medical bag.” Eagle hung up the phone and pocketed it. Gray would come. If nothing else, curiosity would force him.
Eagle returned to the bathroom, grabbed several more washcloths, and made a quick trip to the kitchen for warm water and a bowl, then headed back to the bedroom, and sat beside her. Once again, he pulled the covers down, hearing the woman protest as the chill settled in.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to clean up the scratches as much as I can.” With a washcloth, he gave her a thorough, and, as fast as possible, bed bath, paying attention to the scratches that needed further cleaning. He knew he was hurting her, but she never made a sound.
Then she was likely unconscious yet again. When he made his way to her feet, he knew a simple wash wouldn’t do it. He should have shifted her the other way on the bed, hanging her knees over the edge to get her feet set in the water.
Deciding that would still be the best way to do it, he quickly realigned the bedding, slipped his arms underneath her, and shifted her position. He covered her body again, leaving her lower legs bare, feet dangling just above the floor. Then, with clean water in the larger basin, he lifted her feet and carefully put them in.
As soon as her feet came in contact, he realized she wasn’t unconscious at all. She cried out in pain, her body jerking up only to murmur in joy as the heat soaked in. He needed her body temperature to warm up fast. He should have just placed her in a bathtub.
Still the bullet hole was the bigger issue as long as she was warming up. He glanced at his watch. “Come on, Gray. Where the hell are you?” With an antiseptic soap, Eagle gently smoothed some over the bottom of her feet and then let her feet rest in the warm water.
Just as he finished, he could hear the beat-up old Ford come down the driveway.
Gray. Thank God.
Rikker, at the woman’s side, stared at Eagle, almost as if ready to give a screech should Eagle do something wrong. For some reason Eagle felt like he needed to explain to the bird what was happening. “Gray is coming to look after her. I can do a lot of field dressings but that bullet? We need to make sure it comes out. Can I get it out? Yes, but not as clean as I would like. She also needs a doctor to look for any other internal problems.”
He took several steps to the doorway, turned back to look at the bird, and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” And he raced out the front door and unlocked the gate. He locked it up behind him and walked back up to the house.
Gray was getting out of the cab of his white truck. He slammed it shut and glared at Eagle. “You could have given me an explanation.”
“It would have taken too long,” Eagle said calmly. He nodded inside. “You need to see this.”
Gray’s name matched the closely cut short head of whitish hair and beard. He shook his head. “It’s not like you to be so mysterious.”
“Did you tell anyone where you were coming?” Eagle asked belatedly. Shit, he should’ve warned Gray first. Eagle glanced around the area, his gaze searching the shadows. Had someone chased her? Tracked her here? If so he had to prepare. He had no intention of letting anyone at her again. Not once she’d finally escaped.
He motioned the old man inside.
Gray walked up the porch steps, almost being deliberately slow to aggravate Eagle.
Unfortunately Eagle didn’t have any time or patience. “You didn’t answer me,” he snapped. “Did you tell anyone where you were going?”
Gray raised both hands in exasperation and walked into the house. “Who would I tell? I live alone, remember?”
“I wonder why,” Eagle said.
“No sass, boy,” Gray muttered. “You live alone too, remember?”
With the door locked behind them, Gray raised his eyebrows, and the two hairy lines shot toward his hairline. He stared at Eagle wordlessly.
“Follow me.” Eagle led the way to the bedroom to see the woman exactly as he had left her. Like Rikker’s magical disappearance, Eagle had been a little worried she’d disappear as well.
Gray stopped in the doorway and studied her. “Shit,” he whispered. “Who is she, and what happened to her?”
“I don’t know the answer to either question.”
Gray was all business now. He dropped his bag on the floor beside the bed and rolled up his sleeves. “Explain,” he barked.
Eagle shared the little bit he knew, leaving off much of the mystical stuff he still struggled with himself.
Gray shot him a hard look, carefully pulled back the covers, and sucked in his breath. Then he proceeded to check her over. With Eagle’s help, they gently rolled her to her stomach. With her back exposed, Eagle took the opportunity to wash and clean the scratches that went up and down her frail body.
“I don’t like that bullet hole or the bullet graze alongside her head,” Gray announced. He tapped her good shoulder. “Not sure what kind of life she’s lived, but that looks like a very old bullet hole too.”
Eagle studied the small scar. “Not an easy life obviously. But these new injuries … Why do you think I called you?”
“You should’ve called for an ambulance and the sheriff.”
“Not happening.” Eagle wouldn’t budge on that issue, not until he knew who had done this to her.
Gray settled back on his heels. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? She isn’t your problem.”
At that, Eagle said nothing.
Gray raised both hands again, this time in frustration. “Fine, don’t be sensible. Don’t let the authorities know where she is. Don’t let her family know she’s safe.”
“You get a point for that last one. But not the rest.”
“That’s the thing about family. Nobody gets to be her age without having parents, siblings, or somebody who cares about her.” He picked up her ring finger. “No evidence of a wedding ring, so you might be off the hook of any husband. That doesn’t mean she can’t have a live-in partner of the last five years.”
Eagle nodded. “It also doesn’t mean that live-in partner isn’t the same asshole who held her captive and beat her to the point she ran until her feet were skinned bare to escape him.”
Gray let out a slow breath. Then gave a clipped nod. “Okay, point to you too.” He turned to look down at her. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Help me get the bullet out, patch her up, and deal with the head wound. If you have any antibiotics to stop some of the infection waiting to take over, that would be good. Plus any painkillers in that bag of yours too. There’s no flesh on her bones, and whatever trauma she’s been through would’ve been more than just physical. She’s a fighter,” Eagle said quietly. “She got this far on her own. She needs every chance we can give her.”
“And if the men who did this to her come after her?”
Eagle gave him a grim smile. “As soon as we get that bullet out, I can set up the security system outside.” His gaze narrowed. “Then I’m loading up every weapon in the house, in case I get a chance to empty them into the asshole who did this to her.”
Gray warned, “You can’t take on every ill in the world, you know?”
“No, just those that come to my front door.” Eagle turned and walked out.
*
“Did you find her?”
Dylan stared at his longtime boss and swallowed hard, then shook his head. “No. We tripped his security system,” he said bluntly. “As we bolted, Jordan here fell back and took some kind of a spear in the belly.”
The boss looked down at the man gasping for breath on the floor and nodded. “And yet you weren’t injured?”
“It looks like he runs some kind of raptor center.”
“Raptor?” the boss said, his voice low, sharp with interest. “Anything of importance?”
“I don’t think so. Honestly it was dark, and I couldn’t help but see a thousand eyes staring at us the whole time. It was damn spooky.”
The boss nodded quietly, contemplating the sky over their heads.
“Boss, can we get some help for Jordan here?” Dylan asked, motioning to the man collapsed on the floor, still groaning. “I know he deserved the punishment for letting her escape, but surely he’s suffered enough?”
The boss nodded. “Absolutely.” And, right in front of them, he pulled out a handgun, pointed, and fired, placing a bullet between Jordan’s eyes.
Dylan swallowed again and again. He stared down at the man he’d worked with the last few months. He hadn’t known him well. He’d been a laborer the boss had picked up, but he’d been here the whole time they’d held Issa captive. Dylan had even wondered himself if it was safe to keep Jordan around when this was over and done with. He wasn’t sure the man could keep his mouth shut.
Not to mention the boss had asked Issa a lot of questions. Dumb questions. Dylan had thought they were more stupid curiosity, but still the boss had the power to shock him. The boss got colder every day. With the boss’s breath slowly calming down, Dylan turned to look at him. “Where do you want me to dump him?”
This wasn’t the first time Dylan had disposed of a body. But this was the first time a man was gunned down beside him. Dylan didn’t dare show any nervousness. There was a whole lot of mean in the boss—especially lately. And he appeared to no longer have any boundaries as to what he’d do or wouldn’t do.
“Take him out to the ditch in the back. Bury him deep enough we don’t have to worry about the animals. Make sure the job is done properly.”
Dylan nodded. He glanced at the big man at his feet and sighed. “Maybe you could hire a smaller man next time.” He bent down, grabbed Jordan by the hood, and dragged him out the front door. There wasn’t much for flooring here thankfully. Just dirt, but he still left a blood trail.
A trail he knew he’d have to clean up fast. When he got to the front step, he walked around the building, turned on the tractor with the bucket on the front, hopped on it, and drove around to the front. Reversing the front-end loader so the bucket was down in front of the porch, he got off the seat, dragged the body into the bucket, and, with his chest heaving, straightened up again. Wiping his brow, he walked back around to the driver’s seat, hopped up, and raised the bucket. Then he drove around the side of the cabin and parked. He knew better than to leave that blood trail visible for long. There were too many people around this place.
He went back in with the bucket of dirt that sat outside and spread it on top of the blood. Then grabbed several more bucketfuls. He gave it a couple minutes, then grabbed the heavy rake and smoothed over the area. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but there wasn’t any other way. Blood was blood.
The boss never said a word. He sat beside the fire, his laptop on his legs, and wrote notes. He was a hell of a smart man. Dylan had to admit he was worried that maybe the boss had bit off more than he could chew. His fascination with that damn girl and her birds had cost him a lot. Then he was haunted by so much more.
The two were actually old friends in many ways but not when push came to shove. … Dylan spent his life looking after the boss. Not the other way around. The boss was very clear on that.
When the inside was cleaned up, Dylan hopped back onto the tractor and drove carefully along the trails.
There’d been a lot of rain lately, and the ground was soft. At the back of the property were a couple ditches. He was pretty sure he could find a place to put Jordan and not have anybody ask any questions. When he got to the spot he was thinking of, he hopped off and took a good look. They’d had a spring runoff, and some of the ditches had ended up very deep. He considered one that was well over six feet deep, almost a crevice.
He turned the front-end loader around to get into position, and, when he could, he dumped the body into the place he’d thought would do for a deep-enough grave. Then he maneuvered the bucket to pick up rocks from close by and slowly filled in the area. When he was done, he got off, grabbed some of the deadfall from around the area and dragged it over the top.
Then he backed up the tractor, and, with his boots, he made scuff marks so the area was clear of any tire tracks.
Inside, his mind was in turmoil. Had Jordan been shot because he had failed to guard the girl? Or because he’d been injured, and that made him a liability? It didn’t matter what the answer was because Dylan got that much closer to being the next one forfeited. In fact, as he drove back, he worried he would get a bullet right away. The boss had kept him around to take care of Jordan’s body, but now what? Just because they’d been together for years didn’t give Dylan a free pass.
He walked back into the cabin and headed for the kitchen. There he washed up and started dinner. He did all kinds of jobs here. None of them mattered. He didn’t have any other life. He had given his life to the big man eons ago. Dylan was too old to do anything different. He was a wiry monkey man, strong, but there wasn’t a whole lot to him now. He’d aged and not well. He used to be as bombastic and fiery over issues as his boss was. The boss was much younger, but the years were becoming more noticeable as he aged too. The question now was, how long did Dylan have?
For a long time he thought loyalty was the answer to longevity. Now he had to wonder if a bullet was in his near future. He prepped the potatoes and tossed them into the pan to start frying. He could hear the boss on the phone.
Bits and pieces of the conversation came his way. None of it made a lot of sense. Dylan and the boss were both Irish, but it was as if his boss spoke a different language. That was okay. The less Dylan knew, the better.
It might stave off that bullet for a while.