Hidden in the Shadows (11 page)

Chapter Sixteen

By six o’clock that evening, Maria was cursing her stupidity and clumsiness. She was stuck trying to figure out how to extricate herself from an embarrassing and potentially dangerous situation.

Her task had been simple enough—retrieve one of the old surveillance cameras from the county storage facility where it had been taken after the recent departmental upgrade. As a senior staff member, she had access to the warehouse, which was located in a repurposed industrial park. The whole thing had turned into a hot mess with very little effort on Maria’s part.

“How do you get into these situations?” she asked herself. The only answer was the loud buzzing from the warehouse’s overhead fluorescent lights, and a distant sound of water dripping.

She had planned on being in and out of the warehouse within five minutes, but it hadn’t quite worked out that way. Though she’d quickly found the row of shelves where the cameras were located, the lighting wasn’t sufficient to highlight them beyond the first few inches. She’d had to dig around, moving boxes in order to see their labels.

As the headache she’d been fighting all day increased, she took out her hair clip, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. When she finally located the camera boxes, she’d had to shove another box out of the way to move the one she wanted forward. Doing so had disturbed the web of a very large spider.

With a terrified shriek, Maria had jumped back and crashed into the next row of shelves hard enough to rattle the metal structure, and probably hard enough to leave bruises, if the way her back stung was any indication. She had also become entangled in an old fishing net someone had left on the shelf.

If it had just been the net, she would have been okay, but the contraption came complete with hooks, some of which had embedded themselves into her skin. The more she tried to untangle the net and the hooks, the more they pulled at the skin on her back and shoulders. Additionally, the net seemed to be hooked to the shelf, as well. She was afraid that if she pulled too hard, she’d pull the heavy, industrial shelf, and its contents, straight down on her head.

All other avenues exhausted, she gave in with a defeated groan and not a few tears. She needed help. Very carefully, she eased her cell phone out of her pocket and called dispatch, a gasp of pain escaping as one of the hooks protested the movement. She couldn’t get the phone up to her ear, so she put the call on speaker. When one of the female dispatchers answered, she almost cried with relief.

“Carrie, it’s Maria. Listen, I need a favor. Do we have any units near the storage warehouse right now?”

“Let me check.” She heard the sound of radio traffic in the background, then Carrie came back on the line. “Sheriff Dixon is out that way. What do you need?”

“Of course it would be him.”

“Come again?”

“Nothing. I’m at the warehouse, and I need an extra pair of hands. Would you mind sending him over?”

Relaying the information, Carrie confirmed the dispatch to her. “He should be there in about three minutes. Are you okay? You sound funny.”

Maria gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “I’ve… it’s just been a very long day. Thanks, Carrie.” Ending the call, she groaned loudly and managed to move her head enough to glare up at the fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling. “Why? Why did it have to be Wyatt? It just couldn’t be Jason or Robbie or Wes. No, it had to be the one man I don’t want to see me like this.”

The minutes ticked by slowly, and the silence in the warehouse was unnerving. The only sound was the buzzing of the lights. As she waited, she noticed a chill creeping in and shivered. Though the warehouse was climate-controlled, the inside was still cool, too cool for comfort. She cursed the decision to remove her coat. The thin blouse that hadn’t protected her from the hooks wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, either.

When she heard a vehicle pull up and its door slam, she was surprised to find herself on the verge of tears once more. As the door to the warehouse squeaked open and Wyatt called out her name, she quickly sniffed them back.

“I’m here,” she called.

His footsteps hurried in her direction, and soon he was at the end of the row. “What are you doing?

“Oh, nothing really. I just… well, it’s embarrassing. But I seem to have… um, gotten trapped in a fishing net.”

Pulling his flashlight off his utility belt, he stepped in to get a closer look. “That’s the net we confiscated from Curtis Helton a few months back.” He reached for the net, but she stopped him.

“Don’t! It has hooks, and I’m caught on some of them. I think it’s also caught on the shelf, because the whole thing rattles if I pull on it.”

He cursed. “I can’t really see because of your hair. I’m going to try to move it out of the way, okay?”

“Okay.”

He moved so that he was standing less than a foot away from her, close enough for her to feel the heat coming off his body and smell his cologne. Very gently, he wrapped one arm around her neck and gathered her hair in his hand, using the other hand to hold the flashlight. “Son of a… damn. You’re bleeding.”

“I’m not surprised. I hit the shelf pretty hard.”

He moved back and studied her face. “Hard enough that I should be concerned about other injuries?”

“No. Just get me out of here, please.”

“Okay, but this isn’t going to be fun.” Laying the flashlight on the shelf so that it pointed at her hair, he started the tricky process of working her loose. “Explain how this happened?”

“I was getting a camera for one of the techs, and there was a spider. I jumped, and here I am. Pretty stupid, huh?”

He shook his head, looking down at her with concern. “No. No more stupid than getting tangled in barbed wire trying to get away from a snake.”

“You did that?”

“No, my brother did. But I was there, and couldn’t do a damned thing to stop him.” Once he freed her hair from the net, he gathered it and carefully placed it across her far shoulder. Picking up the flashlight, he looked closer at what he’d uncovered. She felt as much as heard his indrawn breath.

“That good, huh?”

Taking a step back, he shrugged out of his coat. “It’s bad enough. I’m going to have to cut the net loose from the hooks, then get you somewhere to get them taken out.” He unclipped the utility knife from his belt and studied her face. “I’ll be as gentle as possible, but this is going to hurt. Are you sure you don’t want me to call for EMTs?”

“I’m sure. Let’s get this over with.”

“Okay, then. I want you to edge back a little, take some of the weight off the net and the hooks.” Hands on her shoulders, he steered her backward. “That’s good. The net’s secure, but I still have room to work.” He moved in close and started snipping.

Within a few cuts, she was able to move her head and neck again and, tired and hurting, she gave in to temptation and rested her head against his chest. “You’re so warm.” His movements stilled for a very brief moment, then resumed. After a minute, she said, “I need a distraction. How’d your meetings go?”

He shrugged. “They went. Marsha was less than pleased to see me. John… well, I think by the time I left, he was wishing I hadn’t shown up, either.”

“John Hudson? Beth and Jason’s uncle?”

“Mm-hmmm.” With a low curse, he looked down at her. “Good news. I’ve got all but two hooks loose from the net. Bad news. The last two are tangled and in deep. I need you to put your arms around me and hold on. Okay?”

She nodded, and taking care to avoid his gun and taser, did as he asked. When she had a good grip on the back of his shirt, she took in a couple deep breaths. “I’m ready. Do it.”

Moving quickly, he cut the last two hooks free from the net. “Done.”

Unable to prevent a small cry, she pressed her mouth against his shoulder, sagging into him with relief. He very carefully put his arms around her, supporting her until she’d regained her legs.

“How many hooks are there?” she asked as she pulled back.

“Six. Let’s get your coat, and I’ll drive you to the ER.”

She slid her arms into the coat, wearing it backwards, and shook her head with vehemence. “No. No ER. I hate hospitals.”

The look he sent her was incredulous. “Maria, you have six fish hooks embedded in your back. They have to come out. You’re probably going to need stitches, antibiotics, a tetanus shot. You need a doctor.”

Closing her eyes, she begged, “Can’t you do it? My condo is less than five minutes away, and I have a super-deluxe first aid kit there. I thought you were a medic in the Army. Please?”

Wyatt sighed. “What about tetanus?”

“I had a shot this past spring. If it’s too bad, I promise I’ll go to the hospital, but can we please try it my way first? I’m begging you. Don’t make me go to the ER.”

“Okay, but you will go to the hospital if I say you need to. Understood?” Locking the door to the warehouse, he set the alarm and guided her to his SUV. “I’ll drive. We’ll worry about your car later. It might be best if you get in the back and try to lie down or something.”

The drive to her condo was short, and once inside, she led him to the upstairs bathroom. “The emergency kit’s in the linen closet.”

As he got it out, he whistled. “You weren’t kidding about the super-deluxe model.” The kit was the size of a small suitcase. “I can call your mother, if you want.”

She snorted. “Lord, no. My mother is the last person I’d call.” When he sent her a questioning look, she explained, “Veronica wears a very convincing façade. Most of the world thinks she’s a caring, doting mother. Unless you’re male, she isn’t.”

Wyatt looked dumbstruck. “I never would have guessed that, and I’ve known her since high school.”

Maria gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, most people would think I’m insane for even suggesting it. Where do you want me?”

There was an awkward pause, and to her surprise, a faint flush spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “You’re going to need to take off your shirt.”

She felt her own face glow with embarrassment. “Oh. I didn’t think about that. Give me a minute?”

“Of course. The bathroom has good light, so I’ll try to get the hooks out here. I’ll probably have you lay on the bed after I’ve gotten them out so I can clean and dress the wounds. If you point me toward some old towels, I’ll get that ready.”

“Sure. The ones on the bottom shelf are fine for that.”

He grabbed the towels and excused himself, and she closed the door. Despite the pain, one thought kept racing through her mind—Wyatt Dixon was in her home! Ever since her talks with Ethan and Stacy, she’d been thinking about what they’d said. She’d finally decided that she would just treat Wyatt the same way she always had, but perhaps add in a little teasing flirtation. More than once through the years, she’d had to bite her tongue to keep back a witty comeback at something Wyatt had said. Oh, she wasn’t planning on becoming a smart aleck, but she decided it wouldn’t hurt to let a little more of her personality come through in their interactions, at least in one-on-one settings. If something came from it, she’d know Ethan was right. If nothing came of it, she wouldn’t be risking her heart, her reputation, or her job. Making quick use of the facilities, she washed her hands and unbuttoned her blouse. She started to slide it off her shoulders, but it caught on the hooks, and she had to stop. “Well, hell.”

Very carefully, she gathered her hair and clipped it up out of the way, wincing when she encountered strands sticky with dried blood. The pain was growing, her entire back starting to feel as though it were on fire. With shaking hands, she took her robe down off the back of the door and, holding it to her front, opened the door to admit Wyatt.

“I need help with the shirt. It’s catching on the hooks.”

He stepped back inside the bathroom, a barstool from the kitchen in one hand. “Sit on this and lean over. Do you want a pillow for support?”

Cursing again, she tried to get comfortable while holding the robe to her chest, but it was nearly impossible. “I’m sorry. Yes, if you don’t mind. There’s an old pillow on the top shelf of the closet that will work.” He retrieved it, and she exchanged it for the robe.

Making use of the double sink, he opened the kit and laid out the tools he’d need. Sleeves rolled up, he washed his hands. “Last chance before I start. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the ER?”

She dropped her gaze, embarrassed and hurting. “If it’s that bad and you don’t think you can do it, I guess I don’t have a choice. I’d rather stay here, though.”

He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, the warm weight sending a shiver across her skin. “I can do it. I just hate that I’m going to have to hurt you.”

“I’d rather endure some pain than a trip to the hospital.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Let’s get this shirt off.” Easing the fabric away from the hooks, he managed to get it off without causing additional pain. “Looks like three of the wounds are fairly superficial, two are deep, and one’s a yet-to-be-determined. That one’s going through your bra, so you’ll have to take it off, too.”