Dangerous Defiance (14 page)

“Doctor’s on his way, Miss Manning.”

It was Carl’s voice but all she could do was kneel on the ground by Jackson.

“He’s breathing,” Carl reassured.

She looked over at him kneeling on Jackson’s other side, then at the crowd that was quickly gathering.

“Where’s the blood coming from?” she asked.

Carl looked from Jackson’s body to her, his expression more frightening than helping.

“What happened?” the doctor asked, coming fast to them.

A sound came from Jackson and he moved his head, opening his eyes to look up at her.

“Oh, God…” she managed, tears and relief washing over her. She leaned down to kiss his mouth. “Where does it hurt?”

“Don’t touch him, Ms. Manning,” the doctor told her. He was looking at Jackson’s arm which lay at an impossible angle.

Jackson flinched.

“Say something, Jackson.”

He stared up at her for a moment and more tears filled her eyes. “What about looking both ways before you cross the street.”

She exhaled, all those tears falling while she almost laughed, brushing his hair from his face, holding his hand, watching him.

“Broke his left arm, but otherwise, scrapes and scratches from what I can see,” the doctor announced. “Probably hit his head hard though. What happened?”

“Hit and run,” Carl said, his eyes on Jess.

“Let’s get him to my office so I can properly examine him and get him fixed up.”

* * *

Jess went with him to the doctor’s office and stayed with him as the doctor tended to him.

“Not as bad as it looked,” the doctor said after wrapping Jackson’s arm. “Probably took a knock to the head was the worst of it.”

“He was passed out for a few minutes,” Jess filled in.

“We’ll get a cast on that arm once the swelling goes down. Janey, get him something for the pain.”

“Just Advil,” Jackson said, flinching as he sat up.

The doctor just shook his head and turned to Jess. “Let’s have a look at you.”

“I’m fine. He pushed me out of the way.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said, making her sit down as he smeared some ointment over her scratched-up forehead.

It stung but she kept her mouth shut. He looked over a few more spots and she’d have bruises for sure, but it could have been much worse. She looked up to find Jackson watching her and smiled a small smile. It could have been so much worse.

* * *

Jess walked the few blocks back to where the truck was parked. Jackson was at the doctor’s office and the doctor wanted to keep him there for a few hours. She went to pick up some clothes for him; he kept a spare set at the station.

Someone knew she was still in town because that car had come for her. The sound of the tires as it sped up kept repeating in her ears. She remembered the moment when Jackson had screamed her name just as she had turned, instinct warning her too late to run. She had been lucky, they both had. Things could have gone so terribly wrong today.

She turned the corner and saw the dent that mangled the side of Jackson's truck. She didn’t remember that happening, but everything had happened so fast, just like things like this always did. The street was back to normal now and all the files she had been carrying had been cleaned up. She realized she didn’t even have her purse but imagined they were with the files.

Carl and Bill were both still there when she walked into the station. They looked up at her, eyes heavy with fatigue and stress.

“Stupid question, but are you ok?” Carl asked, rising to offer her a seat.

Slowly, thoughts kept coming to her, things like how Jackson had risked his life to save hers. Like how he could be dead right now because of her.

“I’m ok,” she said to Carl, her eyes resting on the files as well as her purse on top of Jackson’s desk.

“How’s the sheriff?” Bill asked.

“Broken arm and bruises but it looked a lot worse than it was. Although he might have a concussion; we just have to keep an eye on him over the next few days.”

“Is he still at the doctor’s office?”

She nodded. “He needed him to stay a few hours.”

“I’ll go over and see him now,” Carl said.

“He said he kept clothes here? His shirt and pants are trashed now,” Jess said.

“I’ll take them with me. Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee or something. Relax for a while.”

“Thanks.” Jess collected the files and her bag. “I think I’ll do that.” She went to the door but turned back. “Any developments?” she asked.

Carl shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Let me know, will you?”

“Will do.”

She walked out the door and this time double-checked both ways before crossing the street. She unlocked the truck and climbed in, finding her cell phone on the passenger seat. She picked it up. It was still on. She’d forgotten to switch it off when she had let him listen to that message. She must never have put it back inside her purse or if she had, it must have just fallen out. They had tracked her from the locating device, she was sure of it. Whoever had done this had come to kill her or to scare her to death.

Jess started the truck.

Well, it hadn’t worked. She followed the signs out of town and toward Granby. She would be at the hospital when Mark Donaldson woke up. She would find the evidence she needed to put Hanson and whoever else was involved away for good and she wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of her again.

* * *

It was fully night by the time she pulled into the parking lot at the hospital. She collected her bag, double-checking that her badge and gun were inside, and climbed out of the truck. Jackson was going to be pissed when he found out what she had done. Well, he probably knew by now but since she had switched off her phone, she didn’t know if he had tried to call her.

Well, she was running out of time. Someone had tried to kill Mark Donaldson and would likely try again when they figured out he hadn’t died. He was the next piece to finish this puzzle, to put an end to the killing and destruction in New Hope. She would risk Jackson’s anger for this.

She walked into the hospital and approached the front desk, taking out her badge and holding it up.

“I’m looking for Mr. Mark Donaldson’s room,” she said.

The woman’s expression changed as she read the badge. She then looked at the computer on her desk, clicking some keys. “He’s just been moved to a private room,” she said, reading from her screen. “Room 412, Agent Manning.”

Jess put the badge away. “Thank you,” she said, turning toward the elevators, having to wait just a few moments before the doors opened and she climbed in, pushing the button for the fourth floor.

The hallway was quiet and she only passed one other nurse on her way down the hall. Room 412 was set at the farthest end, closest to the staircase. A policeman was stationed just outside and she held up her badge again. He read it, then nodded, stepping aside. Jess pushed open the door and froze.

“I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Assistant Deputy Director Hanson sat at the farthest end of the room, cradling one arm, looking a little worse for wear.

“Come in and close the door,” he said. “We should probably keep our conversation private.”

He showed her the pistol he held, then set it on his lap. She noticed it was equipped with a silencer.

Jess closed the door behind her slowly, never taking her eyes off Hanson. She noted his unshaven face, the state of his clothes as well as the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead.

“Where’s your gun, Agent?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“In my purse.”

“Set it on the floor and kick it toward me.”

“Are you ill, sir?” she asked, trying to buy time, thinking.

He lifted his pistol and smiled an evil smile. “Your bag, Agent. Now. I’m not in the mood for games.”

She bent to set the bag on the floor and kicked it toward him.

“Good. Have a seat.”

She took the empty chair across from him, noticing, happily, that Mark Donaldson’s chest moved ever so slightly with his breath.

He followed her gaze. “Sadly, I don’t think Mr. Donaldson is going to survive the night,” he said. He lifted the pistol, pointing it toward the unconscious man.

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Hanson laughed, then turned the gun toward her while his face contorted with pain. That was the moment she noticed the dark, drying blood under the arm of his shirt. “I’m not, you’re right,” he said. “You are. I will find you just after you’ve done it and when you attack me, well, sadly, you also will not survive the night.”

She glared at him. “Did you kill Ben?” she asked.

“Ben should have minded his own business. As should you.”

“Who did this to you?” she asked, gesturing toward his arm, the blood there.

“This?” he asked. “You did. Or at least that’s how the story will go: rogue agent tries to murder the assistant deputy director after killing the man whom Larimer Energy paid to cover up their tracks by sabotaging the dam of New Hope, Georgia, killing three and destroying the lives of so many.”

“You have quite a gift for news reporting,” she said. “FBI not the right calling?”

“You’re a smartass, Agent Manning. If I knew what a pain in the ass you’d be, I would have taken care of you by now.”

“I’m not the only one who knows. There’s a recording, it’s in the hands of the police now.” Well, it was, sort of.

“What recording?” he asked, not sounding too bothered at all.

“The conversation between you and Royson, the one where he tells you to leak the report.”

His face got hard and his knuckles whitened on the hand that held the gun.

“I’m thinking what happened to you was encouragement to do so,” she said.

From the look on his face, she knew she was right.

A sound came from the bed then, a deep groan as Mark Donaldson moved his head to the side. They both looked over at him and Jess knew this was her moment to react. It was now or never and she wasn’t willing to take a chance on that. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lunged at Hanson, knocking him and his chair over, pulling cords out of the wall as they both crashed to the floor. Alarm bells rang out from the monitors attached to Mark Donaldson and the door flew open, the guard entering along with an army of nurses and doctors. The gun fired, the silencer muffling the sound but not to any experienced ear. Jess fell backward, cradling her shoulder, while he took aim again, until a foot pressed his wrist into the ground and Jackson’s own gun came to within inches of Hanson’s face.

Chapter Twelve

Jackson didn’t once take his eyes off Jess as the FBI and police collected in the hospital. Hanson was arrested but immediately taken to the operating room when the doctors saw the extent of his injuries. The FBI was there in full force, led by the director himself.

“The bullet just grazed my shoulder. I’m fine,” Jess said.

“I’ve got my handcuffs on me if she doesn’t keep her butt on that bed, Doctor,” Jackson said, still glaring at her.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Sheriff,” the director said, having to do a double take. “Agent Manning is going to cooperate, right?” he asked her.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, lying back down. It was followed by a quick ouch when he began to clean the wound.

“Agent Manning, aren’t you on leave?” the director asked.

She looked up at the graying man. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Yet you turn up right in the middle of the action. No, a lead player. Can you explain that to me?”

She glanced over his shoulder at Jackson, then opened her mouth to speak just as the doctor touched an even more tender spot and she flinched.

“Never mind, I’ll expect to hear it all on Monday when you report back to work.”

“Monday?”

“Leave’s over, Agent.” He then leaned in closer. “We were on to the assistant deputy director’s actions over the last weeks. We’ve been investigating. You’re a junior agent. Brave, but headstrong, I’m thinking. You’re lucky you’re sitting here with one bullet wound and not something worse.”

Jackson was impressed that she actually seemed embarrassed.

“Looking forward to hearing the full story on Monday,” the director finished.

Monday. Something inside him felt suddenly very heavy. But he knew this was coming, didn’t he? She wasn’t from New Hope. Of course she would leave once the case was closed.

After saying goodbye, the director left, taking his entourage with him. It was now only Jackson and the doctor and nurse who were still working on Jess’s shoulder remaining in the room.

He remained in the background until the two wrapped up. “You’re free to go, Agent Manning. You’ll be sore for a few days but I tend to agree with the director. You were lucky.”

Her look in Jackson’s direction told him she knew just how that luck was about to change.

“Thanks, Doctor.”

He walked out and she swung her legs over the bed.

“Not so fast,” Jackson said, his hand clamping down on one thigh.

She looked up at him and exhaled, resolving herself to be chastised, he assumed. Although it would have to be verbal for now. Neither of them were in any condition for spanking.

“Look,” she began.

“No,” he interrupted. “I owe you a spanking. We’re going to leave it at that. I have a feeling you’re going to get an earful on Monday.”

She lowered her lashes once again, the gesture almost charming. “Thanks.”

“I don’t think either of us is up for driving home,” he said, realizing as he said it that her home was not New Hope, Georgia.

“Between the two of us we have two good arms,” she joked. “Wait, how did you get here?”

“Bill, but he left a little bit ago.”

“Can we get out of here?” she asked.

“There’s a hotel next door, we can spend the night. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “No, just want a shower and a bed and for this day to be over.”

* * *

They checked into the hotel and both had a bath rather than a shower, each of them having to help the other with their various injuries.

She giggled at one point. “Just imagine what we look like right now, you and I,” she said. “All in the span of a few hours.” There was a sadness between them though, a quiet, and she knew it was because of that one word: Monday. They had one day left together.