Sworn to Protect (Vows of the Heart) (10 page)

“Oh
God, no,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Somehow he made himself move, but with his single step forward, his legs threatened to buckle. Oh God, how could this have happened? How could Bethany die like this? Like Rochelle?

His gun still clutched tightly in his hand, he dropped to his knees beside Bethany. With trembling fingers, he touched her face. He caressed the soft silk of her warm skin and his tears suddenly broke free, streaming down his cheeks. His fingers traveled to her throat and he felt a pulse. Fear still tarnished his relief. She wasn’t dead...at least not yet. Rochelle had lived for two hours before the head wound had killed her.

“No, Bethany,” he whispered, gently pulling her into his arms. He cradled her tightly to him, his hand caressing her face and hair. He pressed his lips to her forehead, fighting the powerful sobs wrenching through him. No, please, no, this couldn’t be happening.

She was so beautiful, so full of life, she couldn’t die. He couldn’t have failed her.
Not like this. Please God, not like this.
He touched his lips to hers, wishing now he had kissed her; that he had not allowed the opportunity to slip past him. Her skin was so soft, her lips perfect.

“Bethany,” he whispered into her mouth.

She groaned and kissed him back.

Ethan’s heart almost stopped. Her hand reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck. Her kiss grew more fervent. He wanted to jerk away to stare down at her in shock
, but he was lost in the vibrancy of her kiss. His grief and anguish vanished and his spirit soared. Their tongues tangled and a passion Ethan had never known flamed within him. Her mouth was soft and warm, incredibly responsive to his. Thank God, she would live.

Wouldn’t she?

Ethan managed to grab a hold of his raging lust and reluctantly ended the kiss, savoring the taste of her as he lifted his head. She gazed up at him, her eyes glazed and blood oozing from the gash on her forehead.

“Jesus,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m too hard-headed to go down that easily,” she replied, but her words sounded slightly slurred.

Ethan found himself grinning like an idiot. He had to pull his wits together. He checked her head. “Damn,” he muttered. “I think you have a concussion. I’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“No,” she said hoarsely. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Don’t argue with me. Can you sit up a little?”

“Yeah.”

He eased her up and braced her against the wall. Remembering how quickly the cleaners had arrived at the motel, Ethan knew he had to move fast. He reloaded his Colt with the last clip he carried and picked up the ejected one. He checked Holly and Jefferies
, but they were both dead. Ethan took their guns, standard issue Glock .40’s, and their remaining clips. He knew he would need the firepower.

“Here,” Bethany said, holding out the keys with a trembling hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t make it to the car.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Ethan said and took the keys. Then he vanished into her room, grabbing a pillow, a blanket, and the bags containing the clothing Holly had promised them. He carried the load out to the car, watching for approaching vehicles or men stationed as backup.

No one appeared and he opened the trunk of the Charger. He would have to put Bethany in the back seat. But an idea occurred when he spotted the exact same model of car parked under the carport. Returning quickly, he found the keys in Jefferies pocket and darted back out. In the trunk
, Ethan discovered a shotgun with plenty of ammo, more clips for the Glocks, a first aid kit, and two Kevlar vests.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said and put the items in the trunk of his Charger. Again, Ethan hurried back to the house. He lifted Bethany, his left arm screamed at bearing her weight
, but he managed to carry her out. Ethan helped her into the backseat. She crawled in and arranged the pillow so her head was on the passenger side of the car.

He closed the door then sat in the driver’s seat. “Try to stay awake, sweetheart. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“Ethan, I’m fine.”

He turned in his seat and seized her hand. “Bethany, please, not long ago I saw someone die from a head injury. I’m not going watch the same thing happen to you.”

She gazed at him a long moment, seeming to understand his resolve, and squeezed his hand. “Okay, but when the doc tells you this was a waste of time, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He laughed softly. “That would be the best news I’ve had in a long time.” He started the car, quickly pulling away.

The problem was the GPS on the vehicle. Ethan had to find a way to disable it, otherwise they’d be able to track him wherever he went. Well, there was no help for it now. Getting Bethany medical attention was first on his list. He lifted a shaking hand and rubbed his eyes. She was alive, thank God, and he was going to keep her that way.

****

The small town near the safe house was fortunate to have its own doctor with a quaint emergency care facility. The doctor lived upstairs and there was a phone at the door which rang directly to him.

Ethan’s call dragged the sleepy man out of bed and within moments, he had Bethany inside. The
doctor checked her. Thank goodness, the concussion was only a mild one and the doctor soon sent them on their way.

Ethan sat in the parking lot for a moment, again worrying over the GPS. He scowled, staring at the glove box. Some things just weren’t adding up.

He opened the glove box and pulled out the envelope with the cash. Why would the captain arrange to give him $500 in cash when he knew Ethan would be heading to a safe house and wouldn’t need it?

Unless the captain had thought Ethan would require the money to get the hell out of Dodge. What if Edwards suspected another mole in their department, just like Ethan did? What if he said what he did over the phone because someone else was in the room with him? He might not be sure of the mole’s identity, so he couldn’t tip his hand prematurely. But Edwards could do certain things to help Ethan stay one step ahead.

He glanced at the envelope again, noticing for the first time some writing in the corner. He squinted, the print was tiny but unmistakably Edward’s hand.

Ethan saw a word - CLEAN, followed by a four digit number, and then another word below the number - SHERIDAN. What the hell? His fingers moved on the envelope and he felt something hard. His heart jumped as he pulled out a key. Earlier, Bethany had checked the envelope but not thoroughly. She had simply leafed through the bills and counted the money.

Ethan grabbed the map. The safe house had been circled in black marker. But as he gazed at the map, he saw the faint mark of a yellow highlighter. So faint, he almost missed it. Ethan peered closer. The street marked was Sheridan. He looked again at the envelope. The number was a street address and the key was to a door.

Edwards had given Ethan an alternative. He studied the word CLEAN and realized something more. Edwards had broken
regs and disabled the GPS.

Thank God!

Feeling better than he had since this insanity started, Ethan turned the key in the ignition and drove away. The safe house Edwards had provided might remain so long enough for Bethany to recover from her head wound. They wouldn’t be able to stay long. Since Edwards had given them a key, the safe house was known in the ATF, but it would take some time for the mole to discover.

He debated going to the second safe house only for a moment. Ethan had one last ditch option
, but he resolved not to use it unless he absolutely had to. It might prove more dangerous than Cordova’s mole.

****

Bethany dozed lightly in the backseat, but every bump in the road sent a jarring pain through her skull. They seemed like they were driving forever, but Ethan had a plan, and she had absolute faith in him.

The memory of his kiss bloomed vibrantly in her mind. She had thought she was dreaming, hallucinating because of the blow to her head. Then she discovered his kiss was intensely real. There was more to Ethan than met the eye. What made her even more curious was the fact that he intentionally projected an image of someone who didn’t give a shit. Why? Was he protecting himself? Pushing others away before they could get close to him?

One thing was certain, he had risked his life for her even though his testimony against Cordova would be just as important as hers.

She remembered her thoughts earlier - he was a wolf who didn’t bother with the sheep’s clothing. But now she wondered if he actually donned the wolf’s clothing. Not a man hiding weakness, but hiding his kindness and compassion. One with a great heart, vibrant with emotion, who had suffered terribly in the past. The wolf’s clothing was his armor, his protection.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

“You okay back there, sweetheart?” Ethan’s soft voice asked.

A wonderful shiver passed through her. God she loved listening to his voice. “Yeah,” she replied.

“How’s the head?”

“Pretty sore, and the meds he gave me make me loopy.”

He chuckled. “You are already loopy, my dear.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Ethan laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Well, if you can give as good as you get, I know you’re okay.”

“I told you,” she said.

“Yeah, you did. Remind me to listen to you more often.”

“Ooooh...don’t give me that kind of opening. I’ll drive a truck through it.”

He laughed again then fell silent for a long moment. “Honestly, Bethany, if you’re up to it, I need you to talk to me.”

“What’s wrong, Ethan?”

“I’m having a hard time staying awake and we still have a ways to go. I need you to talk to me.”

“Pull into a drive-through and get some coffee.”

“I will as soon as I find one. In the meantime, I need to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “What do you want to talk about?”

Again he remained silent for a long time. “Tell me about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you are one beautiful young lady who is just full of surprises. Tell me about you.”

“There isn’t much to tell.”

“On the contrary, I think there are a great many things to tell. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

She sighed softly. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, you said you’re a locksmith, you had no desire to do anything illegal but....”

“Ethan, you don’t want to hear this.”
Read as, I don’t want to tell you,
she thought.

“Yes, I do, sweetheart. We’ve been through life and death together, and will probably go through it again.”

She sighed heavily. He deserved to know. “Let me start at the beginning. It might make more sense. My mom was a stereotypical mid-west runaway. She went to Hollywood at sixteen to find fame and fortune, but unfortunately ended in the business where most girls like her wind up.”

“Prostitution, with one bad ass pimp,” Ethan said
, but he stated it as a fact, not an insult.

“Right. My dad was a corn-fed farm boy who came to L.A. to find the same thing. He could pick a mean guitar. Unfortunately he had to turn to petty theft just to survive. He was a pick-pocket and a master of sleight of hand. He was amazing with a deck of cards. Then he met my mom and it was love at first sight.”

“Any brothers or sisters?” Ethan asked.

“No, just me. My dad had done a couple of odd jobs for Cordova’s father. His size and strength made him a natural for the goon squad. I’m not exaggerating when I say he was almost as big as you back in the day. He strong-armed a few guys who tried to rip off Cordova senior.”

“Never a good idea to rip of that man.”

“Cordova senior liked my dad. When he learned my dad had the
hots for a girl with a nasty pimp, he took care of the pimp.”

“Cordova and his daddy don’t help anyone but themselves.”

“Exactly.”

“So Cordova had him stealing the cars.”

“Not at first. Senior just hired him when he needed extra muscle. When I came along, Dad tried to go legit. He became a licensed locksmith and started his own tow-truck business. That expanded into a mechanic shop and was actually doing pretty well. But then Cordova senior retired and turned over the business to Junior. That’s when things went south. Junior didn’t like dad showing a bit of independence. So he pushed him into stealing cars. Dad was good, but too easy to spot in a crowd. He really didn’t want to do it, but the more Cordova pulled him away from the business, the more we needed the money. I spent a lot of time at the shop so dad was already teaching me about cars. But we couldn’t afford to hire a mechanic when Dad was gone, so at twelve I was a part time grease monkey.”

“But it became a vicious cycle. The more your dad was gone, the less money the shop made.”

“Yeah, and...and then it got worse.”

“How so?”

“Mom was diagnosed with cancer...terminal.”

“Oh God.”

“I was thirteen. Then junior did something my mom hated. He paid all the bills and sent her to the best specialists in the nation.”