Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (31 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Under threat of being tied up by an overprotective boyfriend, Cassie agreed to be taken to County Hospital. She didn’t ride in the ambulance. Trent retrieved his cruiser from the property line and drove her to the ER himself. She knew he needed this for his peace of mind, and it was the least she could do after what she put him through. So she endured being poked, prodded, and stitched, and surprisingly didn’t attack anyone. She didn’t have a single flashback nor was there any hint of that closed-in feeling that usually preceded one. Cassie wondered if it was because Trent was with her, holding her hand when he could and telling her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was staying right beside her.

The sum of her injuries was a mild concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, and a minor gunshot wound to the arm.

This was not the case with John. Right now they were keeping vigil and the waiting room was a sight to see. It seemed like the entire town was there to show their support for the beloved general store owner. Millie and her folks at the diner, Matt and his mechanics, Mac and the guys from the ranch—Colt was missing because he’d already gone after Kate. Then, of course, there were John’s employees and other small shop owners who had made their home in Misty Grove. Even Wyatt, who had lost favor it seemed with most of the townspeople, showed up.
 

“This waiting room is making me nervous,” Trent said with amusement. “Should I be worried, hellcat?”

“Huh, I don’t know, Sheriff,” Cassie replied. “Should you?”

Lucas walked through the sliding doors with Brooks and Frank. Her twin made a beeline for them.
 

“Everything checked out okay with you?” Lucas asked.

“Yup. No brain damage.”

Her twin chuckled as Trent muttered about it not being funny. Trent would eventually realize that this was how they coped with all the life-or-death situations they’d been dealt since childhood. There had been so many of them that they soon realized that shit happened and it was beyond their control. Cassie didn’t remember when they had started using dark humor to cover their worry underneath. To outsiders, they seemed blasé, but a twin’s bond transcended words. She could feel and see in Lucas’s eyes what he meant: “You scared the shit out me for a while there, sis. Don’t do it again.”

“The FBI has taken custody of Deborah Stiles and her crew,” Brooks informed their sheriff. “That’s certainly less paperwork for us.” Trent stiffened beside her. It didn’t take a genius to decipher the sarcasm in Brooks tone and his displeasure about being kept in the dark. Trent was wrestling with his conscience about keeping his men on the rim of the actual reason for today’s events. At least he had Frank on his side.

“The admiral?” asked Trent.

“He’s flying back to DC as we speak, but he said he had something to discuss with you,” Lucas told Trent.

“What does he want with Trent?” Cassie asked, a bit worried. She didn’t like how the admiral and her man seemed to be getting close, like buddies. It didn’t escape her notice that they had some kind of heart to heart when she was being treated by the EMT. It also didn’t escape her that Trent had been hanging to his sanity by a hair’s breadth and somehow the admiral managed to calm him down to a certain degree, and for that she was thankful.
 

Lucas shrugged. “He didn’t say. I didn’t push.”

She knew her twin wasn’t being truthful, but also knew it must be the presence of other people in the waiting room who didn’t need to know.

“Probably not a good idea for you to chauffeur the admiral around,” Trent muttered.

Lucas gave them a knowing smile. Something was up all right. She couldn’t wait to get her twin alone and pry the truth from him, even if she had to sit on his head.

The sliding doors to the operating theater opened and a weary surgeon stepped out. Everyone held their breath.

“John Crowder.”

Cassie was right in front of the surgeon, who looked surprised at the crowd in the waiting room with all their eyes on him.

“Uh, is there a Mrs. Crowder?”

“No, but we’re his friends and the only family he has,” Cassie said. When the doctor hesitated, she said, “He almost died trying to save me.”

Understanding flooded the doctor’s face and he inclined his head in acquiesce.
 

“The shot to his abdomen was through and through and did not damage any internal organs,” he revealed. “I’m more concerned with the gunshot wound to his shoulder. I’ve extracted the bullet and some of the fragments. There is soft tissue damage as well as skeletal. He may need a second surgery depending on how it heals, but it’ll definitely be a long road for him to recover full use of that arm and that’s not guaranteed. The shoulder is a complicated joint, and whoever thought that it’s the safest area to be shot is a myth. It’ll take a lot of rehab.”

“Is he out of danger though?”

“It’s too early to say,” the doctor said gravely. “He has lost a lot of blood and has a couple of cracked ribs plus a number of bruises and lacerations. There’s always a possibility of infection.”

Cassie nodded.

“He’s in the recovery room right now, and I have to limit his visitors.” The doctor looked pointedly around the room. “I suggest you talk among yourselves to decide who will see him.”

There was no question who would go in to see John. He had asked to see Cassie. She and Millie entered the sterile hospital room. The smell of antiseptic and the beep of the patient monitor stirred a dark memory in the deep recesses of her mind, but she focused on the pale-looking man on the bed who had saved her life.

John’s eyes opened when he heard them shuffle into the room.

“Ah, my two favorite girls,” he said, his voice scratchy.

“You can knock it off with the charm, John,” Cassie replied with mock sternness, although a trace of worry lingered in her tone. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Her good friend gave a pained smile. “A thank you would be nice. How are you, Millie?”

“Better than you it would seem,” the diner owner replied dryly.

“My girls, always busting my balls.” John tried to chuckle but ended up coughing.

Cassie leaned forward and pressed down on his good shoulder and his chest. “Dammit,” she swore. “Are you hurting?” Her eyes moved from his injured shoulder to the abdominal area.
 

“Ah, that wasn’t fun,” John groaned. His eyes were half-lidded and he’d grown more pale.

“Do you need something for the pain?” Cassie asked.
 

“I’ll be okay.” He shifted presumably to a more comfortable position. “Cassie, you have to understand Ariana was more furious with me than with you.”

“Ariana?”

“Deborah,” John clarified. “Ariana Stefani was her real name.”

That Petro Stefani had a daughter was left off the dossier the CIA had given her. Cassie had been sixteen years old. Would knowing the man had a daughter cause her to hesitate?

Cassie exhaled heavily. “John, you don’t have to protect me from this. Plain and simple, she came after me because I killed her father, and you were an added bonus.” John closed his eyes for a moment. It was apparent that talking at this length was taking a toll on him. “Just rest, okay? We can hash this out later.”

She moved to leave, but John’s hand caught her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. “Listen to me, Scout. I knew Ariana.”

“What?”
 

“She was twenty-years-old when she came for a visit. This was two months before your assignment. I was her bodyguard for two weeks. She trusted me.”

“You didn’t...”

“Oh, God. No,” John said, his eyes widening in horror. “My tastes run to older women.” His eyes sought out Millie and the older woman stiffened beside her.

John, that rascal.
Despite this surprising revelation about Ariana, Cassie suppressed a smile. John and Millie were a long time coming. She knew Millie had been keeping John at bay because he was five years younger. Did that really matter nowadays as long as you were over the age of twenty-five?

“
Anyway, if anything, the betrayal was mine and you know sometimes that runs deeper. The hurt, the quest for revenge when someone breaks your trust.” John sighed deeply, letting go of her wrist and closing his eyes once more. “Damn, I’m getting too old for this. This used to be easier.”

“What? Getting shot and beaten up?” Millie commented.
 

John flashed her a weak half grin. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you’re all right, John,” Cassie whispered, dropping the tough act and letting the concern filter through her voice.
 

“You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” John teased.

“Never,” she replied. Noticing him fading in and out, she said firmly, “Now you need to rest.”

“I guess you’re right,” John said, settling back into the pillows. “I’m glad you’re safe, little Scout.”

Cassie wondered if John had drifted off in a haze of drug-induced wakefulness and sleep. His body had been through a lot. Her “watcher” needed his rest, but when he was better, she would become his “watcher.” She owed him that and she would make damn sure he had a full recovery.

She looked questioningly at Millie who made no move to leave the room with her.

“I’ll stay a while longer,” the other woman whispered.

Cassie smiled slyly. “About damn time.”

“Shut up and go to your man.”

*****

Trent propped up on his elbow and watched the steady rise and fall of Cassie’s chest. With his other hand, he swept her hair to one side and placed two fingers on her neck, finding comfort in the rhythm of her pulse.

It was the evening after all the shit had gone down. He couldn’t sleep. He was exhausted, but slumber had proven elusive. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled the scent of vanilla with a hint of coconut. He let his fingers ghost over her face and under her nose, letting her every breath soothe him further.

She was alive and whole. That was all that mattered. So why was there a pit of fear in his gut that wouldn’t go away. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Piper pointing a gun to her head. He would have shot her in a heartbeat, but Colt was still getting in position and they couldn’t take all of them down with near simultaneous precision. Sometimes, he’d see the image of that big guy straddling Cassie, beating her up.
 

Cassie stirred in her sleep and Trent withdrew his fingers and rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed. His insomnia was disturbing her sleep, so he moved to get out of bed. Maybe a shot of whisky might help.
 

“Trent?”

Fuck.

“Go back to sleep, babe.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just wired, that’s all.”

He looked back at Cassie’s sleep-fogged face. God, she looked beautiful. He longed to crawl back into bed and sink inside her lush heat. Then he berated himself, thinking of all the bruises on her body and her concussion. He was a brute.
 

“Well, we can’t be having that.”
 

Trent tensed when her arms lightly circled around his torso, one palm resting on his bare chest.

“Don’t. Your wound—”

“Is fine,” Cassie finished for him. “You need to stop treating me like glass, Sheriff.” Her breath fanned the back of his ear while one hand trailed down the ridges of his abs, sending a bolt of lust spearing through his body. Trent twisted, and grabbed her neck, bringing her in for a quick, hard kiss. Then he broke free and sprung away from the bed as if it was on fire. He was breathing heavily. “You’re not ready for this.”

Cassie sighed in irritation. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’m not ready.”

Cassie tilted her head and stared right at his dick, raising a brow. “I think your cock begs to differ.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Trent, I’m trying real hard to be patient here. If it wasn’t for your impressive erection, I’d be a little hurt and think you’re not attracted to me anymore.”

“That’s farthest from the truth.” Trent huffed out a mirthless laugh. “You of all people should know how crazy I am about you. I’m fucking in love with you, dammit!”

“Then talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I would if I knew exactly what it is. It’s just this unsettled feeling in my stomach waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don’t know how you can just sink into bed and fall asleep as if you didn’t almost die yesterday. Twice.”

Cassie leaned over and switched on the night lamp, swinging her leg to sit on the side of the bed. The look of tenderness in her eyes almost sent him crashing to his knees.
 

“I can sleep soundly tonight because you’re here right beside me,” Cassie said softly. “You make me feel safe, Trent, and I know you’d protect me with everything you’ve got.”

Trent dropped to his knees anyway, spreading her thighs apart and replacing the space between them with his body. His hands cupped her face.

“I’d give my life to protect you,” he said fiercely.
 

“And I would do the same for you. I hope you know that,” Cassie responded just as fiercely.

“Don’t say that!”

A look of bafflement crossed her face. “Why not? It’s true—”

“Because I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.” His words came out like a wounded growl. “Fuck, you already got injured on my watch.”

“Trent. You’ve been doing so well not keeping me in a cage,” Cassie said sharply. “Don’t start now.”

“Then tell me how to love you, because I don’t want to fucking lose you!”

“You’re not going to lose me, because I love you, you crazy man! Every single part of you, including your infuriatingly overprotective parts.”

Trent froze. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you. Why else would I be putting up with your bossiness?” Cassie gave him a look. “I told you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t.”
 

“I’m pretty sure I did. Oh, wait, I think that’s when I finally admitted it to myself.”

“What, Cassie?” he prodded softly.

“I love you, Trent Stone. Deeply and irrevocably.”

A feeling of lightness washed over him, one he had not felt in a long time. He leaned in and captured her lips in a deep and gentle kiss.