Obsession (Southern Comfort) (38 page)

“What kind of danger?” he said slowly, even as the little hairs on his neck moved like dominoes in reverse, standing straight up.

“It might be easier if I show you,” she told him.  “I have it in my car.”

When she stood up, the shot rang out. 

Her face registered shock even as Justin dove, taking her to the ground.  Rolling her beneath him, he dragged them both behind the porch column, which was the only shelter to be had.  Heart pounding, he glanced over his shoulder, scanned the trees, the darkness beside the garage, for some sign of the shooter.

When Natasha made a
gurgling sound, he leaned up slightly so that he could assess the damage.

Fuck. 
The unspoken thought was vicious.  She was hit.  Again.  And the placement of the bullet did not look good.

“Natasha,” he said, his voice low but demanding.  “Look at me.  Open your eyes.  That’s right,” he said when her lids started to flutter.  “You stay with me.  I’m going to have to drag you again,” he warned her, hoping that whoever’d fired that shot wasn’t hanging around, waiting for them to move back into the open. 
But he had to get her inside, immediately.

Just then the door opened, filled by the shape of his brother.

“What the hell was that?”

“Get back!” Justin barked, and when James looked down, saw him covering the bleeding woman with his body, he dropped to his stomach, belly-crawled onto the porch.

“Damn it, James!”

“I’ve got her legs,” he said, ignoring Justin’s ire completely.  “We’ll go on the count of three.  One, two…”

On three, Justin grabbed Natasha under her shoulders, and crab-walked toward the open door, keeping his profile as low as possible.

As soon as they were across the threshold, he kicked the door shut with his foot.

“Shit,” James said, looking at the pool of blood that was already spreading out beneath Natasha, running in rivulets along the grooves in the wood floor.

“Clean towels,” Justin said.  “And get my medical bag from the closet in the bedroom.
”  The bullet had nicked the carotid artery, and if he didn’t get it patched up quickly, she was going to bleed out.

Whipping off his shirt, he pressed it to the wound.

“Natasha,” he said, getting in her face, and finally slapping it to bring her around.  “That’s a girl.  Don’t you dare give up, you hear?”

James rushed back into the room, a stack of towels and Justin’s medical bag in one hand, a big black pistol in the other.

“I called 9-1-1,” he said, tossing down the towels, the bag.  Then he crawled to the window, eased the slats of the shutter up with the edge of his gun.

“Get away from the window,” Justin snapped.
  “And turn on the light.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, somebody out there is shooting.”

“Which is why I want you to get away from the damn window.  I need the light so that I can see what I’m doing, and I need your help,” he said.  “Hold this towel in place, just as firmly as you can.”  

James nodded,
and flicked the light switch.  Then he knelt next to Justin, his face going bone white as he applied pressure.

“Don’t pass out,” Justin said, and the look his brother shot him was dirty.

“I won’t.”

Justin
ripped open his bag, took out a scalpel and a surgical clamp.  It was less than ideal, but he just needed to buy some time.     

“Natasha,”
he said again.  “We need to get this bleeding stopped, okay?  You stay with me.”

Her eyes were glassy with shock, but they flickered in acknowledgement.

Snapping on gloves, he nodded at James, who moved the towel
and the shirt away so that Justin could get a better look at the injury.  When he pressed his scalpel to her torn flesh, widening the hole so that he’d be better able to maneuver, James flinched.

“The shock is keeping her from feeling the pain,” he murmured, and though his brother was still pale, he nodded.

“Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Press the towel right here,” he said, indicating the area with a nod of his head.  “I need to absorb some of that blood so that I
’m not working blind.  Okay.  Now pull back.”

When James moved, Justin leaned in, identified the artery.  “Hand me that clamp.  Pressure,” he said after James placed the clamp in his hand.  “Now stop.”

When his brother moved, Justin clamped the artery.

Sirens sounded outside, and Justin sat back on his heels.  “Shit,” he said, noticing that the young woman’s eyes had closed.  “Natasha.  Natasha!”

This time, he couldn’t bring her around.

“Will she make it?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” Justin said, as he took her pulse, relieved to find it there, if thready.  “I hope so.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KATHLEEN
found Justin, eyes closed, long legs stretched before him, leaning against the wall in the surgical waiting room.  He had on clean scrubs, but he’d missed a smear of blood near his elbow.  She didn’t know why the sight of that blood should disconcert her, considering that he was probably up to his elbows in the stuff every day, but her stomach gave a little lurch.

She sat down
in the chair next to him, unsure if he was simply resting or whether he was actually asleep.  After a few moments, he cracked open one eye.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” she said.  The tenderness that still took her by surprise welled in her, and she reached over to take his hand.  “So,” she said.  “Deja vu, huh? I hear you’ve had an eventful evening.”

Justin grunted
.  “James?”

Kathleen nodded.  “He’s pretty concerned.
  I just bumped into him by the vending machines.”

“
Neither hell nor high water can get between James and his appetite.  I’m sorry I didn’t call you.  I wasn’t sure if I should.”

A noise of frustration huffed out of her chest.  “So kidnapping me to have sex in your
vehicle is okay, but calling me when someone takes a shot at you isn’t?”

“Your rules,” Justin said, his voice testy.  “The sex I thought we could keep between us.  But it’s a little tougher to keep our relationship on the down-low when there are cops crawling all over the place.”

“Justin –”

“Are you sure you should be holding my hand?”

Because she knew exactly how far he’d been pushed recently, how close he must be to the breaking point, Kathleen let that slide.

“We closed the investigation,” she said.  “Into Mandy’s death.  So I don’t care who knows I’m in love with you.”

His eyes flashed at that, then he
squeezed her hand and sighed.  “Suicide?”

“That’s the official verdict.”

He searched her face.  “You still have doubts?”

Kathleen shrugged. 
They hadn’t found any traces of wine cork in the garbage disposal, but after going another few rounds with Mac, and then with the lieutenant, she’d agreed – reluctantly – that they couldn’t justify spending more time and more resources for what was essentially a minor detail.  “There are some questions I’d still like answered, but then that’s not all that unusual in my job.  A lot of questions go unanswered.  I just have to make the best judgment call that I can.”

He leaned his head back against the wall.  “I should probably feel something right now, but I seem to be rather numb.”

“Will she survive?”

“This time?”  He
made a sound that held no trace of amusement.  “You want my professional opinion, I’d lay odds against it.  Her body has been through a hell of a lot here recently, so she doesn’t have much in the way of strength reserves.  The bullet caught her in the neck, nicked the carotid artery.  I acted as quickly as I could, under the circumstances, but… she lost a hell of a lot of blood.”

“Justin.”  She waited until he looked her way.  “If she does survive, it’ll be because you acted quickly.  Again.  I know you.  So I know that you did everything you could – at risk to yourself since you were under fire.”

He made a face that suggested he wasn’t swayed by that argument.  “Do you think this is related to the original shooting?  That she was targeted by one of the gangs?”

“I don’t think there’s enough evidence yet to make that call.  Rutledge is involved, based on Natash
a’s earlier allegations, but…” She lifted one shoulder.  If she knew Justin, he was probably beating himself up that he hadn’t taken those allegations more seriously.  “Was it only the single shot fired?”

“Yes.  But then I guess one was enough.”

“Hmm.”  Kathleen wasn’t sure what to make of that.  True, many executions were carried out with only a single shot fired, provided the shooter was confident that it was a kill shot, but given what she knew of the local gangs, they tended toward spraying everything in sight with a hail of bullets – as they had at Jugs – or, when the hit was more up close and personal, they utilized the classic double-tap.  And a slit throat for added insurance.  “Can you tell me what happened?” 

Justin was quiet
a moment, but then he told her, as best as he could remember, everything Natasha said.

“She said she found something that suggested you were in danger?
” A chill skittered along Kathleen’s spine.  “What?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  “The gun went off as soon as she stood up.  We didn’t exactly have a chance to chat afterward.”

“You told all this to the cops at the scene?”

“Ah, some.  I rode in the ambulance with Natasha, though, and so didn’t have much time to make a full statement.
I just talked to one of them again about fifteen minutes ago, though.   He’s around here somewhere.” He gestured vaguely with his hand.  “I think he was going to see if he could find out anything about Natasha’s condition.”

“Do you know if they searched her car?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted.  “I didn’t even think about it
until the detective had me go through everything step-by-step.  The content of our conversation sort of took a backseat after the shooting started.”

Kathleen frowned, and Justin squeezed her hand.

“She could have been talking about almost anything.  Natasha was just in the hospital.  Hell, maybe she overheard Mandy’s friends plotting against me.  You know that blue underwear?”

“I have a vague recollection.”

“James said they weren’t his.  Or that he didn’t put them there, rather.  I thought maybe someone stuck them in my coat pocket to set me up, like I’ve been harassing the nurses.  Or the patients,” he considered.  “I spent a fair amount of time talking to Natasha – alone – even though I wasn’t her doctor.  They could probably find a way to make something of that if they really tried.”

Kathleen considered.  She guessed it made sense.  Having interviewed them herself, she knew that those two women had no love lost when it came to Justin.  And that little slip of the tongue regarding
retaliation
definitely gave the impression that they weren’t above actively pursuing revenge.

Seemed she needed to have another little chat with Cynthia and Julie.

But because she was inclined to hedge her bets, she was going to talk to the detective, see what, if anything, they’d found in the young woman’s car.

“I’m going to go see what I can find out.  Can I get you anything?” Kathleen asked.  “Coffee?”

Justin shook his head.  “James was going to bring me some.  But thanks.”

Kathleen laid her hand alongside his stubbled cheek, then leaned in and kissed him.  “I’ve missed you.”

A tired smile crinkled his eyes.  “When this is all sorted out, you want to take a little trip with me? Someplace cold, so that we can just sit in bed, not a care in the world, and watch it snow outside the window.”

“
Just sit?”

“Well.  In between bouts of wild monkey sex, of course.”

“Of course.” Her smile matched his.  Then it slid from her face on a sigh.  “Let me go talk to the other detective, so that we can sort this out as soon as possible.  Not having a care in the world sounds good right about now.  Not to mention the hot monkey sex.” 

She gave his hand one final squeeze, then headed toward the hallway.

“Kathleen?” Justin said, and she turned around, brow lifted.

“I’d be happy just to sit with you, too.”

JAMES
Wellington slid into the driver’s side of Justin’s pickup, pulling a coffee out of the carrier and handing it across the cab.  “Here.  Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Thanks,” Corelli said dryly.  “What’s with the scrubs?”

“Oh.”  James looked down at the blue pants and shirt with distaste.  “I had blood on my clothes, and the police carted them off.  Evidence, I guess. They gave me these at the hospital.”

Anthony sipped his coffee.  “I wondered if you’d decided to follow in your brother’s footsteps.”