Protecting Rose (23 page)

Rose inhaled sharply. “What is it? What happened?”

“It’s Sheila.”

Her face went deathly pale.

Nate continued. “Someone broke into her house and beat her up pretty bad. She’s been taken to the hospital.”

“How bad?” Concern vibrated in her voice.

“It’s bad, Rose. We won’t know her condition for a while. Rick thinks it’s related to her meeting with you, and I agree. Our location may be compromised, and we need to leave.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over.

With a curse, he held her tight. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he promised. Although he wasn’t at all sure that was true. From the sound of it her injuries were severe.

He was so tired of this shit, feeling powerless to alleviate Rose’s fear and anxiety. He wanted the son of a bitch that had caused all this pain. And when he found him, he was a dead man.

“Oh, Nate,” she cried. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. You’re not responsible for the evil things others do.” Nate brushed a kiss across her forehead.

He studied her. She was far too pale. The shadows under her brown eyes evidenced her weariness. He fisted his hands, released them, then fisted them again. He was seriously pissed to see fear once again color her world just when she was beginning to find happiness.

“We didn’t get much sleep last night, sweetheart.” He stood and escorted her to the bedroom. “Why don’t you take a short nap while I make arrangements to move us?”

Rose wrapped her arms around him and nodded against his chest. “Okay.” She headed for the bed and lay across the comforter. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes a window to her pain. She closed them and curled into a ball.

His jaw ached from grinding his teeth, furious that the bastard had been able to put sadness back into her eyes. Nate retrieved the afghan from the foot of the bed to place over her. He needed to make some calls for a place to stay for the night, but all he really wanted to do was to crawl in bed and hold her until her fear and sadness fell away.

He had just gotten off the phone from speaking to a bread and breakfast resort near the Dells when Rose screamed his name.

He reached for his Glock, rushed down the hall, and burst into the room. Fear for her safety ripped through him, followed by a rush of relief when he found her alone. His gut clenched when he noticed the look of horror on her face as she sat up in bed. Her hand covered her mouth and shocked eyes brimmed with tears.

He gathered her into his arms. “What is it, babe?” The relief of holding her calmed the pounding ache at his chest.

“My parents, they’re dead,” she stammered.

He tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Your parents, you remember your parents?”

“Yes.” She gasped, her eyes flared wide. “In Chicago, remember. I told you I saw myself running up the stairs at the Orchestra Hall. I remember...I looked back at them.”

She grabbed his shirt and buried her face against him. He stroked her hair. “What is it, what do you remember?”

“When I looked back at them,” her voice broke and she shuddered. Nate had to lean down to hear her as she said in a near whisper, “I saw a car leave the street. It came onto the sidewalk.” Her entire body trembled with tension.

“What did you see?” He rubbed her back in an attempt to calm her.

“The car, it ran them down. My parents...I saw them die.” She burst into tears.

Damn.
“I’m so sorry, babe.”

Regret filled him. He couldn’t change the past. The only thing he could do was hold her tight and let her cry as his anger clawed to get out. A hit and run. What were the chances of that? Accident or murder?

Nate waited until her tears slowed. “Do you remember anything else?”

She shook her head.

“That’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead.

At least it was something to go on. How many people were run over while standing on a sidewalk in Chicago?

“I need to call Rick to set up a place to meet, I think—”

Her bedroom window shattered, and the echo of rifle fire filtered in the room as a bullet whizzed by. Nate threw his body over hers and rolled them both to the floor. He pushed her underneath the bed.

“Stay put,” he ordered. “Whatever happens, you stay under this bed until I get back.”

Rose nodded, both terror and shock shinning in her eyes. He grasped the back of her head and pulled her in for a quick, hungry kiss. Her soft lips trembled under his.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m going to take this bastard out, and then I’m coming back for you.”

“Be careful,” she pleaded.

Nate smiled, then reached for his Glock at his waist. “Piece of cake, babe.”

He carefully made his way to the kitchen. At the back of the pantry was a door that led to the basement. He could exit the north side of the house, near the woods. It was his best chance to get out unnoticed. The shots came from the south. Nate made his way outside and ran into the woods in a low crouch.

He followed the woods path, his footsteps silent against the well-worn trail as he headed in the direction of the shooter. Past the sandbags painted like animals, through the rows of windmill spinners that hummed with the breeze, crossing the troll bridge in one big leap.

When he neared the stone maze, he froze at the sound of a rifle shot aimed toward the house. His gut clenched in fear for Rose. What was the asshole shooting at? She should still be safely sheltered under the bed. The sound of shattering glass from the bullet’s impact shocked him back into motion and he ran faster. He needed to get this SOB and fast.

Nate knelt behind a large fallen tree to look for the shooter. He scanned the area and spied the steel glint of the weapon near the barn. He ran deeper into the woods and silently approached to take a position just behind the shooter. With a dark scowl, he noted the guy’s large, brutish frame. The thought of what he’d done to Rose and Sheila infuriated him.

It took a moment to process the intense rage that swamped him. To own it, and push it aside. He had to keep his emotions in check. Angry men made stupid mistakes and he couldn’t afford to make a stupid mistake. Steeling himself, he gritted his teeth and slowly worked his way around to the man’s back.

“Drop it, motherfucker!” Nate stepped forward from behind a tall tree.

The guy froze, his rifle still tightly gripped in his hands. There was a long moment of tense silence. Nate waited patiently, half expecting the guy to turn around and open fire. And if he did, he was fully prepared to drop the prick.

“I said...drop your weapon and turn around slowly,” he growled. “Do it now!”

The shooter let his rifle fall to the ground and calmly turned around to face him. Nate kept his gun aimed directly between the bastard’s eyes with the safety off and trigger cocked.

“Who are you?”

The guy just shrugged his eyes cold and hard. “Fuck you.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to throw down his weapon and take the bastard out with his bare hands. “Who sent you?”

“Come on,” he snarled. “You don’t expect me to answer that.”

Well, at least now Nate knew he wasn’t acting alone. Someone had sent him. He itched to do some serious damage to the SOB, but he needed answers and he couldn’t get them from a dead man. He would have to be satisfied with just arresting him. If he somehow ended up with a few bruises in the process, so be it.

“Put your hands above your head, and get on your knees,” Nate ordered between clenched teeth.

The shooter started to lift his hands slowly above his head. Suddenly, he dove to the ground and pulled a knife from his shirt collar, throwing it at Nate.

Nate had just enough time to pull the trigger before the knife embedded into his shoulder. He stumbled back from the impact and tripped, hitting his head on a stump when he fell. Pain exploded in his head and everything went black.

Rick paid the cashier for the fill-up and headed for his car when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open as he got behind the steering wheel. “Rick here.”

“Hey, Rick, this is J.D., where you at?”

Rick pulled back onto the freeway. “I’m on my way to Montello to meet with Stone. Why?”

“When you get back to Milwaukee, I need you to stop by the station. I’ve some new information on the Sheila Williams case.”

Rick’s hands clenched around the steering wheel and his gut rolled violently, remembering the way he’d found her beaten. “Yeah, whatcha got?”

“We have an eye witness.”

Rick’s heart sped up. “No shit.” He relaxed his grip on the wheel, and took a deep breath. “That’s great, J.D. How late are you gonna be there?”

J.D. snorted. “All night, man. When you get back in town, just stop in.”

“All right.” He glanced at his watch. “See you around midnight.”

“Okay. Midnight. I’ll be here.”

Rick flipped the cell shut and glanced at the road sign with a frown. He looked back down at his phone. No messages waiting. He was nearing Montello, and Stone still hadn’t called with a spot to meet? He tensed and hit speed dial. No answer.

“Shit.” He pressed harder on the accelerator.

The sound of a cell phone ringing roused him. With a groan, he reached up to rub the back of his head, which hurt like a bitch. Opening his eyes, he saw blue sky above him while he lay flat on his back. When he attempted to sit up, a sharp pain in his shoulder made his headache pale in comparison. What the hell? He glanced down to see a knife protruding from his shoulder and his senses came flooding back. Rose!

He steeled himself and reached up to pull the knife from his shoulder. For a moment, blackness enveloped him as pain rocketed through him at the blade’s exit. Nate took a deep breath and shook his head. He tensed with determination. Damn it, he wouldn’t pass out again. Rose needed him. Dropping the knife to the ground, he clumsily stumbled to his feet.

He retrieved his Glock where it had fallen next to the shooter, who lay on the ground with a hole in his chest, his eyes wide open and lifeless. A quicker death than the son of a bitch deserved.

He glanced at the house in the same instant the smell of smoke registered in his brain. Nate’s heart stilled and all air left his lungs. He ran toward the house. His gut rolled over and blackness once again reached for him. The farmhouse was on fire, and Rose was in there.

Where he’d left her.
Agony tore at him.

Nate refused to acknowledge the pain, blocking it out of his mind he ran to save Rose. Blood poured from the wound in his shoulder as he stumbled up the steps. He reached up in a feeble attempt to stem the blood loss and yanked the screen door open, only to be stopped by a wall of flames.

“Rose,” he yelled. “Rose!”

Nate ran back outside and with a rush of adrenaline managed to roll a large log underneath her bedroom window. Blood poured from his wound with the exertion and his head grew light. He braced himself against the weakness.

“Hang on, baby, I’m coming.” Desperation overwhelmed him.

When he stepped onto the log, there was a loud whoosh and the glass shattered outward, followed by a blast of flames. The force of the explosion knocked him back and scorching heat flowed over him.

Nate fell to his knees and lifted his head to the sky. The harsh guttural sound of his sorrow and rage filled the air. “Rose!”