Fatal Judgment (34 page)

He wasn’t going to get out of this alive.

His stomach coiled into a knot of fear. He hadn’t planned to die carrying out this mission.

But a lot of patriots had put their lives on the line back when the country was just beginning. Thousands had died fighting for independence and freedom. It was a noble way to go. An honorable way.

A strange peace settled over him as he tightened his grip on his rifle and scanned the area around him. All he had to do was hold them off a little longer.

Then he would take his stand.

Just as the patriots had at Bunker Hill.

______

“I have him in my sights. He’s behind the boulders on the west side of the gravel road.”

As Todd’s terse words crackled through his earpiece, Jake responded without hesitation. “Take him out.”

A second later, the retort of a rifle splintered the still air.

Jake didn’t wait for Todd’s all clear. Before the echo of the shot faded, he was on his feet. Running.

As he approached the lean-to, a staggering wall of heat hit him. Coughing, he peered through the swirling smoke, desperately seeking a way through the ring of fire.

A sudden gust of wind whipped the acrid cloud aside for a brief instant. Long enough for Jake to spot one section where the flames hadn’t yet engulfed the straw.

Shielding his face with his arm, he took a deep breath, held it, kicked aside the smoldering straw, and plunged through.

The smoke stung his eyes, and he blinked to keep his vision clear. Liz didn’t appear to be burned, but her bound hands were secured to a hook on the lean-to and her head was slumped on her chest.

She was unconscious.

Or worse.

Smoke inhalation could kill quicker than fire.

Pushing that terrifying possibility aside, he pulled out his knife and went to work on the nylon restraint. Heat scorched his upper arm, but he ignored it and kept sawing.

When the restraint gave way at last, he gathered Liz into his arms. Doing his best to protect her from the fire, he exited the same way he’d come in, flames licking at his legs as he passed through.

Once in the clear, he knelt and gently lowered her to the ground. Sitting back on his heels, he sucked in deep breaths and wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeves.

“The EMTs are seconds away.” Todd dropped to one knee beside Liz and pressed his fingers against her neck. “I’m picking up a pulse.” Cutting off the gag, he leaned down and put his cheek close to her mouth. “And she’s still breathing.”

For the first time in his professional career, Jake’s composure shattered. Tears streamed down his cheeks while Todd made short work of the restraints binding Liz’s wrists and ankles, but he could no longer blame them on the smoke. At some peripheral level, he was aware of the buzz of activity around him. But all that registered in his consciousness was Liz. Her face was battered, and the restraints had left deep abrasions on her wrists and ankles. But she was alive.

Leaning over, he eased the gray wig off her head. Her blonde hair spilled out, and he fingered the silky strands. Stroked her cheek.

Thank you, God!

“Sir, we need to get in there.”

The EMTs nudged him aside none too gently, and as he stood he heard the sound of the medevac helicopter’s rotors in the distance.

“You need to get your arm checked out.”

Todd’s comment barely registered, and he aimed a distracted frown over his shoulder. “What?”

“Your arm. You’ve got a bad burn back there.”

“It’ll keep.” Dismissing his own injury, he refocused on Liz.

“There’s no reason they can’t work on you while they work on her.”

Before he could protest, Todd waved over a third EMT. “Take a look at that.” He gestured toward the back of Jake’s arm.

Irritated, he turned to his SOG teammate. “Let it go, okay?”

The EMT was already poking at him. “Looks like a second-degree burn. If you’ll sit on that rock over there, I’ll be able to do a better job of treating it.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Fine.” Todd pressed him down with a firm hand on his good shoulder. “Sit here.”

Normally Jake would have jerked away and told the other marshal to back off. But for some reason, the stiffening in his legs gave out. Capitulating, he sank to his knees and sat back on his heels again, staying within touching distance of Liz.

As the EMT cut away his sleeve and went to work, he blocked out the pain in his arm and focused on the clipped conversation between the technicians treating Liz. They’d already put an oxygen mask over her nose, taken her blood pressure, and were trying without much success to start an IV. But he was picking up some words he didn’t like.

Shock.

Dehydration.

CO poisoning.

All at once one of the technicians began cutting off her sweater.

“What’s wrong?” He jerked forward, and the EMT working on him muttered a startled “hey.” He ignored him.

“We can’t get good vitals through all these clothes.”

As the man sliced through her sweatshirt, then her sweater, the bottom edge of her shirt rode up.

Revealing a mass of black and blue.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath.

The EMT paused for a moment to do a quick inspection. “We’ve got some possible broken ribs. Maybe internal damage.” Dispensing with the sweater, he fitted the stethoscope into his ears and listened to her heart.

The paramedic finally got the IV going. Only to deliver more bad news.

“We need to intubate.”

The second technician looked up. “Airway edema?”

“Yeah.” Even as he replied, the other man was pulling out a plastic-wrapped package and ripping it open. Withdrawing a tube, he fed it into Liz’s nose and down her throat, then attached the oxygen.

“What’s wrong?” Jake was vaguely aware that the EMT dealing with his arm had gone back to work.

“The airway seems to be swelling. We don’t want it to close up.”

He rested a hand on Liz’s leg. “Will she . . .” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I hope so.”

The man’s noncommittal response did nothing to alleviate the fear churning in his gut.

The paramedics from the medevac helicopter arrived, and as the two emergency medical teams exchanged notes and prepared to transfer Liz, Jake stood. Todd materialized next to him.

“I’m going on the helicopter.” Jake kept his gaze fixed on Liz.

“I am too. This protection detail isn’t over yet.”

“Yeah.” Jake pressed his lips into a grim line. “Like we’ve done such a great job.”

The team from the helicopter lifted Liz, and Jake started to follow.

“Hey! I’m not done yet!” Another protest from the EMT working on his arm.

“Yes, you are.”

“At least let me put this on.” He held up a gauze pad.

Jake kept an eye on the group approaching the helicopter. “Ten seconds.”

The EMT slapped it on and taped it in place. “Have them finish up at the hospital.”

“Right. Thanks.”

As he jogged to catch up with Liz, Todd fell in beside him. A moment later they passed the group of rocks where Reynolds had taken his last stand. He lay where he’d fallen, sprawled on the ground, his body twisted at an awkward angle.

Jake gave him no more than a passing glance.

Usually he felt at least a twinge of remorse when they had to take someone out. He respected the sanctity of life. Even a misguided life.

But as he passed Reynolds, he felt nothing but enmity. And relief.

Every breath, every movement, hurt.

But the pain had lessened a bit.

Why?

Liz opened her eyes. Frowned. There was some kind of mask over her nose, obstructing her vision. She tried to lift her arm to pull it away, but a sharp pain stopped her. Repositioning her head, she squinted toward her elbow. But her eyes weren’t focusing very well. Nor was her brain hitting on all cylinders.

“It’s okay, Liz. Lay still. You’re going to be fine.”

A voice that sounded a lot like Jake’s came from her other side. Except it was much deeper than usual. And not quite steady.

A warm hand engulfed hers in a gentle grip, and she turned her head.

It was, indeed, Jake. Though it didn’t look much like him. Crevices lined his haggard face, dark circles hung beneath his lower lashes, and there was a streak of soot on his cheek.

She tried to speak, but only a croak came out.

“Just relax, Liz. Don’t try to talk. You’ll be hoarse for a while from the smoke. You’re safe now. In the hospital.”

Smoke. Hospital.

All at once, the memories came rushing back. The abduction. The cabin. The fire. Her surrender to her fate.

Yet somehow she’d survived.

And she had a strong suspicion her rescue had been orchestrated by the man standing beside her. The man whose arm was sporting a large white bandage where his long-sleeved black T-shirt had been cut away.

Tugging her hand free of his, she pointed to the dressing and raised her eyebrows.

He dismissed her silent question with a shrug. “It’s a small burn. I’m fine.” Leaning close, he stroked her cheek, his touch oh-so-gentle, his velvet brown eyes tender and filled with caring, warmth—and an emotion far deeper than mere affection.

Maybe she’d died and gone to heaven after all.

A nurse appeared at his elbow and leaned over to look at her. “You’re awake. That’s good. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how’s the pain?”

Liz flashed five fingers, then three.

“Okay. We can give you some more meds.”

As the nurse worked with the IV, Liz reached for Jake’s hand again. Her voice was gone, but she wanted him to know that the emotion she’d seen in his eyes matched the one in her heart.

The world began to swim as the pain medicine kicked in, but before she gave in to it, before she let sleep claim her, she thought she heard him whisper four beautiful words.

“Tomorrow is ours, Liz.”

Three hours later, when Mark stuck his head into the door of Liz’s room, Jake rose and met him on the threshold.

“How is she?” The FBI agent glanced toward the bed.

“She’s had a battery of tests, from chest X-ray to blood count to something called a bronchoscopy. There doesn’t seem to be any serious damage. If we’d been even sixty seconds later, though . . .” His voice choked.

“But we weren’t. Thank God.”

“I’ve been doing that all afternoon.”

“Good plan. I stopped by to check on the judge, but I also wanted to let you know that our ERT technicians found some interesting things around the cabin. Another fingernail. A small ball of tissue by the chair that contains blood I’d wager belongs to Judge Michaels. And in the outhouse—a third fingernail and several strands of blonde hair coiled into a ball and tucked into a corner.”

Liz had done her best to leave them clues. To plant evidence so her kidnapper could be brought to justice, whether she survived or not. Jake shook his head, awed but not surprised. “That sounds like Liz.”

Mark cast an admiring glance her way. “She’s quite a woman.”

“No argument there.”

Spence joined them, and after getting his own update on Liz’s condition, he squinted at Jake. “You need to go home and sleep.”

“What is it with you and Todd? I think you both have a latent mother hen complex.”

“Okay. Fine. Keel over from fatigue. Then we can get you admitted too.”