Accidental Bodyguard (24 page)

“Westview Hospital near Winter Haven is the closest. Get back on the interstate and drive south.”

She handed him a plastic bottle of water from the console. Half full. No telling how long it had been there, but in their hurry to flee neither one of them had thought to bring any food or water.

“Drink,” she said. “You need fluids.”

He upended the bottle and drained it.

“Thanks,” he muttered. He turned to look at her. “Drive, Claudia. We can't stay immobile.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

J
ACK
SHIFTED
IN
the seat, trying to get comfortable. The pain wasn't the worst of it.

True, his whole shoulder and arm hurt badly, but he'd been shot before. He knew how to deal with pain. And they'd caught a break that the bullet had exited cleanly.

It was his fear for Claudia that made him crazy. What would she do once he was admitted to the hospital? Where could she go?

He needed to ignore the pain and figure that out. If the Warriors had tracked Claudia to Dunnellon, they could find her anywhere.

She couldn't remain in an ER waiting room. The ER staff would notify the police of a patient with a gunshot wound. It would be all over the police scanners for anyone to hear.

She would be located again. Quickly.

Did these terrorists have ears in the US Attorney's Office? Or on Lola in the Protection Alliance office? He doubted the latter. Too many safeguards in place. Most likely his mother somehow managed to give away their location. He no longer doubted Chuck—who may or may not be alive. Or maybe Marsali Winthrop had managed to figure out where they were hiding.

The how of their discovery shouldn't matter now, but it definitely did if he wanted to keep Claudia alive.

Just another week. That's all he needed.

Would she go back to Miami? Allow the prosecutor to stash her in a safe house? After all that had happened, surely the feds would realize how serious the danger was and do everything required to keep her alive.

The bigger question was, would Claudia trust them and go along with it.

Probably not. She didn't trust anyone. Not even him. A sense of betrayal gripped him again, squeezing hard, harder than the pain in his arm.
Hold it together, man. Focus.

When Claudia braked to a stop, they were on a city street, surrounded by commercial buildings. He blinked. She'd exited the interstate. He must have faded out for a second or two. Not good.

“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Great,” he mumbled.

She accelerated. “We're almost there.”

He nodded.

“We need to get our story straight,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“We have to tell the ER staff how you got that bullet wound. Something plausible. I wouldn't believe the truth.”

“
We
don't have to do anything. You deliver me to the emergency room and drive away.”

“What?”

“Listen to me, Claudia.” He sucked in a breath, searching for the words to convince her. “You'll be trapped, vulnerable.”

“No way, Jack.”

“You can't stay with me.”

“You expect me to drive away and leave you bleeding?”

“I'll be in a hospital.”

“I'm not abandoning you, Gladiator. Forget it.”

“Damn it, Claudia. Stay with the plan. Drive to Orlando. Find a motel, something cheap, out of the way. I'll give you cash.”

“Shut up, Jack. It's not happening.”

She pulled under an overhang and braked. To his right were glass doors with Emergency Room in huge block letters.

“I'm not getting out of this truck unless you promise to drive away.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You need medical attention.”

“I won't get it unless you leave.”

“I'm not leaving you,” she said. “I can't.”

“Yes, you can.” He struggled to hold on to his anger, and realized he was struggling to hold on to consciousness.

“I love you, Jack,” she said softly. “I'm not leaving you.”

She loved him? When did that happen? He shook his head, trying to focus. She'd called him
Gladiator.
What was that about? His eyes drifted closed, and he forced them open. He had to stay alert. He had to convince her. She had to listen to him. But his thinking was so damn fuzzy he wanted to tell her he loved her, too.

“If they find me, they find me,” she said. “I don't care anymore. You're more important.”

“No,” he said.

“You've done all you can, all anyone could do.” Shaking her head, she said, “Don't you see I
can't
leave you here alone? I couldn't live with myself. Because of me, you're vulnerable now, too.”

Jack knew if she went in that hospital with him, she'd die. He knew it in his bones. Or was that more fuzzy thinking?

Why couldn't he think straight? Must be all this crap about love and gladiators.

“I'm getting out of the car now,” she said, her hand on the door handle. “I'm coming around to help you inside.”

“You'll have to fight me.”

“Jack, please. Be reasonable.”

“Could you stitch me up?”

She paused. “I could, yeah. The bullet passed through cleanly, didn't do a lot of damage. But I don't have anesthetic. Or nothing strong enough, anyway.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“I know you think you're Rambo, but come on.”

“Yeah, that's it.” He closed his eyes. “I'm Rambo.” Too bad Rambo was slipping under.

“It'll hurt like hell,” she said. “And there's the risk of infection.”

“Antibiotics are easy to get.”

“Yeah, they are.” She sighed. “Too easy. I have some tetracycline.”

Relief flooded him as he realized she was wavering.

“Maybe we could try it,” she said, obviously thinking aloud. “Considering what we've been through so far...”

“Drive away, Claudia. Find a cheap motel. There's cash in my wallet.”

* * *

J
ACK
AWOKE
WITH
a start. He grunted, jerked upright. What the— His left side throbbing with pain, he began an assessment. A dark room. Unfamiliar. Musty.

He reached out with his right arm, searching for his weapon.

“Shhhh.” A calming sound. A cool hand cupped his forehead. He looked into the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen. Kind eyes, worried. Claudia.

And everything came slamming back.

Cursing, he collapsed back onto the lumpy bed. They were in a motel. Kissimmee. Definitely a dive from the smell of things. He closed his eyes, remembering the haze of Claudia helping him out of the truck, wrestling him into bed, making him swallow pills, drowning his arm in alcohol.

God, that had stung, but much worse came next. She'd sutured his wounds with amazingly steady hands.

She'd been right. It
had
hurt. Still did.

The mattress dipped as Claudia sat beside him. He opened his eyes.

“Take this,” she said, and held out a glass of water and a capsule. Suddenly parched, he popped the pill and drank every drop, recalling that sometime during the night she'd lifted his head, softly encouraging him to drink cool water.

He lay back down, relishing the feel of the cool sheets, and realized he was naked but for his briefs. She'd stripped him.

“How do you feel?” she asked, taking the glass.

He held up his hand and made a rocking motion, surveying the darkened room. The blackout curtains were drawn tight, light barely filtering in around the edges. She'd propped a chair underneath the doorknob to prevent anyone from breaking in. A small microwave sat atop a mini refrigerator. Coffee machine. Television. Your standard cheap motel room.

To his right a digital clock on a cheap nightstand read 10:45. Had to be a.m.

“Is it Saturday?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Yeah. You slept through the night. Fitfully, but you slept. Best thing for you.”

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

“Not much.”

He noted she'd strapped on her shoulder holster, the Glock in place. His own weapons were laid out on the opposite nightstand. She'd created an arsenal and stood ready to defend him.

He hoped that wouldn't be necessary. At least not until he regained his strength. How much time did they have before the Warriors found them?

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Too soon to tell.”

“What's your pain level?”

“You don't want to know. Bring me up to speed. What's been going on?”

“I registered under Louise Clark with my fake ID,” she said, shoving uncombed hair off her forehead. “Paid cash for five days in advance. I told the clerk me and the hubby planned to do all the theme parks, but you had food poisoning.”

He grunted. Good cover story.

“I went out once for groceries, and parked the Navigator in a location hidden from the street maybe a half mile away. I walked back. They'll have to look hard to spot our vehicle.”

“Good.”

“I talked to the prosecutor, but called the pay phone at a coffee shop near his office. I got the number before I went to Collins Island.”

“In case something like this happened,” Jack guessed.

“The trial still starts Monday, but Reese won't need me until Friday at the earliest. I'm supposed to check in again on Thursday.”

Jack nodded. Thursday. Could they hole up in this room until then?

“I picked up a copy of an Orlando newspaper. The shoot-out in Marion County is front-page news. As we suspected, two people in the truck died. Chuck is banged up, but okay. He went on camera for the evening news last night. One of his deputies is in critical condition.”

“Damn,” Jack muttered. “Who?”

She shook her head. “I don't remember the name. I think it's in the article, though. I saved it for you. I'm so sorry, Jack.”

“Any mention of you?”

“Not me or Carlos. Or you or your mom.”

“Chuck managed to keep it quiet.”

“For now,” Claudia said. She yawned, but tried to hide it with a hand.

Jack reached out with his uninjured arm to touch her leg and was rewarded with her first smile. Even in the dim light he could see her eyes glittered with tears.

“You did good, Claudia.”

* * *

C
LAUDIA
CLASPED
HIS
cool fingers with both of her hands, hating the pitiful little sob she couldn't suppress. She stared down to where they were joined. Her two hands couldn't cover his one big one.

Every muscle in her body tingled with exhaustion, as if stretched beyond breaking. Last night had been horrible, never-ending. She'd been terrified that Jack wouldn't regain consciousness, that she'd made the worst mistake of her life by not forcing him into the ER. Worse than marrying Carlos.

But he was okay. A tear dropped onto her wrist.

She blew out a breath.
Get a grip, girl. You fall apart now when the crisis is over?

“You should get some rest,” Jack whispered.

“I'll sleep after I change your bandage. I need to check for infection.”

Reluctantly, she released his hand and rose. “Close your eyes.” She turned on the lights, wincing at the sudden brightness.

When she returned to Jack, he asked, “Where did you get medical supplies?”

“A pharmacy next to the grocery. Sorry, but this will hurt.”

“Do it,” he said.

Trying to be gentle, Claudia removed the bandage. She'd seen neater sutures, but these weren't too bad. The wounds were healing nicely. No sign of infection. Plus, Jack wasn't feverish. No doubt her gladiator had the best immune system in the known universe.

On a good day, he could probably deflect bullets. That thought made her smile as she rebandaged his shoulder.

“Something funny?” he asked.

She looked into his green eyes. “I was just thinking what an amazing body you have.”

His mouth twitched. “Sorry, honey. Not tonight. I've got a headache.”

She laughed. A real laugh, the first one in months, God, maybe years. It broke some tension wound tight deeply inside her, became a release that she couldn't control. She kept hooting until her stomach hurt, until her eyes swam with tears.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “It wasn't
that
funny.”

But his words only made her laugh harder. She collapsed sidewise on the bed.
Oh, my God.
She was cackling like a witch and couldn't stop.

“What exactly are you laughing at?” Jack demanded.

She rolled onto her back and tried to control her mirth, but chuckles kept hiccupping out. “I don't know.”

“Claudia,” he said quietly.

She inhaled deeply and pushed herself up to face him, trying to suppress another fit of giggles.

“Come here.” Jack extended his good arm, and she crawled across the bed to snuggle up on his uninjured side.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her head on his shoulder. But she wasn't really. Her ludicrous laughing fit had turned off a stress switch, if such a thing existed. Right now she didn't care if Carlos's Warriors found her. Curled up next to Jack, touching him, everything seemed okay.

After a moment, she asked, “Am I hurting you?”

“You're fine.” He laid a hand on her hair and stroked lightly. Her eyes drifted shut, his breathing steady under her ear.

“So are you,” she murmured.
Oh, so very fine.

She smiled at her thoughts, but the giggles didn't return. As she drifted off she thought she heard Jack mutter something, but was too sleepy to struggle to comprehend.

She awoke in darkness. No light was visible around the edges of the curtains. Jack slept beside her, his breathing regular. She touched his arm. Cool. No fever. Thank God. He had to be better because he'd gotten up at some point to kill the lights.

She turned to read the digital clock. Nine thirty. She'd slept away the day beside Jack, not even bothering to remove her holster.

Careful not to disturb him, she climbed out of bed and stretched. She found a soda in the refrigerator and took a long cool drink. Refreshed, she grabbed her journal from her duffel and moved to a chair close to the door where she could angle the light away from Jack. They'd missed the six o'clock news, but maybe they could learn something at eleven.