Page 68 of Avenging Jessie
“Drones are down,” Tommy said without preamble. “Langley’s secure. Hastings is?—”
“Neutralized?”
“Yeah. You guys okay?”
Spence tightened the last knot in her bandage. “On our way to Walter Reed. Meet us there.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” Jessie called out, her voice too thin to sell the lie. Spence ended the call before Tommy could ask them more questions.
He swung into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and dropped the gearshift into drive. The tires screamed as they tore out of their hiding place and onto the two-lane road.
Up ahead, headlights flared—Brewer’s black sedan.
“Follow him,” Jessie said, trying to sit forward.
“We’re going the same way,” he said, jaw tight.
She levered the rifle into her lap from the back seat. “Good.” Before he could stop her, she had the barrel out of the open window. The crack of a shot split the night, the back window of Brewer’s sedan exploded, and the car fishtailed hard.
“Jessie!” He grabbed the back of her jacket, yanking her inside as the sedan veered off the shoulder and plowed into a telephone pole.
“Stop!” She beat at his injured hand, and he nearly let go when pain erupted in his wrist all over again. “Arrest him!”
He accelerated and they whizzed past. “I’m not letting you bleed you out for an arrest.”
Her hand slipped from the rifle, her body going limp. Her head lolled against the seat.
“Jessie.” He shook her. But she was unconscious. “Dammit, woman.”
He blew through two red lights and didn’t slow until the gates of Walter Reed loomed ahead. Military police waved him through after a glance at his credentials and a look at Jessie, slumped in the seat, pale as chalk.
He skidded into the ER bay, yanked open her door, and had her in his arms before anyone reached them.
“GSW, left side,” he barked as the trauma team rolled up with a gurney. “Through-and-through, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”
Hands were on her then, lifting her, cutting the bandage he’d tied. Someone shouted for more IV fluids. The doors swallowed her, leaving him standing in the wash of fluorescent light and antiseptic air.
His right hand throbbed like hell, his shirt was stiff with her blood, and he couldn’t shake the sound of her voice in the warehouse—I love you.
He moved to follow, but a nurse barred his way. “You need to wait here, sir.”
“She’s—”
“They’ve got her,” the nurse said firmly. “Let them work.”
Spence turned away before he punched the wall. He braced both hands on the counter, forcing himself to breathe.
Ten minutes felt like ten years before Tommy appeared, Tessa right behind him.
“They said she’s stable,” Tommy reported, eyes flicking to the dried blood all over Spence. Flynn already spoke to the surgeon. “Are you…?”
“I’m fine.” His voice was flat.
Tommy frowned. “The best surgeons are on it. She’ll be okay.”
Spence nodded, jaw tight, knowing Tommy was trying to convince himself as well as Spence.
