A SEAL Always Wins Page 22

  She scanned her small apartment, and a pang of loss struck her. It wasn’t much, but it had been her home for years, her pictures and shadow boxes on the walls, her homely, yet coordinated furniture. Now she had to leave all of it behind.

  She fished underneath her bed and pulled out a duffel bag that she had only used a couple of times in her entire life. Moving quickly, she began to grab clothes from her dresser and stuff them into the duffel. She didn’t own much, so it didn’t take long. Then she went to the small nightstand next to her bed and yanked open the drawer. Nestled in a soft purple cloth was her SIG Sauer P320 handgun. She quickly checked the magazine, then rammed it home. She grabbed two more full magazines and tossed them into her duffel.

  She had bought the gun for self-protection when she had moved away from home to live on her own and frequently visited the firing range to stay comfortable with the weapon. Already she felt more secure, knowing it was primed and ready nearby.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Elena almost screamed. Her heart slammed against her chest in a combination of fear and hope. Had Phantom returned? Had he decided to come to her directly?

  Why hadn’t he called her first? If he had returned, why hadn’t he answered her phone call? She shook her head in frustration. Her paranoia needed to be kept in check. If Phantom had decided to surprise her by showing up at her door, she could only be grateful. Still, something churned in her gut, telling her to be cautious.

  “Just a minute,” she called out, making her voice sound cheerful as she tried to gather herself together. When no answer came from the other side of the door, her unease grew even more intense. Phantom would have said something. He wouldn’t have remained silent. “Who is it?” she called, trying desperately to breathe evenly.

  “Randall. You can call me Randy, I guess.” There was hesitant, awkward laughter. “Sorry. I just moved in a couple houses over. We ran out of milk for the baby, and I just saw you get home. I thought you might have some you could spare?”

  Did neighbors really still do that? Borrow milk or sugar? Seriously? She placed both hands on her gun and began to inch toward the door. “I’m all out of milk,” she replied. “Sorry. Did you ask the Bells downstairs? They usually have those types of necessities.”

  “No, no I didn’t. No one came to the door when I knocked.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. Mr. and Mrs. Bell left yesterday to visit their children. Okay, who are you? She kept the gun pointed at the floor as she kicked her boots off, then slowly, slowly slid across her floor in just her socks, making certain that the floorboards never creaked.

  Soon enough, she stood close to the door and ventured a glance out the peephole.

  She saw a man’s face and didn’t recognize him. Something in the way he stood made her uneasy. Then movement—and the barrel of a shotgun aimed right at her door. Sucking in a deep breath, she jumped backward, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her stomach burned as the explosion knocked her backward, the door fragmenting, shooting splinters at her. It kept on splintering, the man outside kicking and punching in the door fragments.

  Pain set in and Elena looked down to see her shirt torn and bloody, but she chose to ignore it. She had more pressing matters to deal with. The man kicking and beating at the door seemed determined to reach her no matter what. She gripped her gun tightly and aimed at the leg that kicked in her door, breathed evenly and used both hands to steady the weapon, combatting her nerves.

  His whole upper leg burst through the wood, and she clenched her teeth together. She took aim and…

  Pow!

  His scream of pain echoed in her apartment. Blood welled up around the wound in his upper thigh, which she knew had to be incredibly painful. For a moment she stood frozen in disbelief while he regrouped and began to hammer his way through her door again, even though blood gushed down his leg.

  She had to get away. She had to force her muscles to move. Elena raced toward her bed and grabbed her duffel bag, then ran out onto the small balcony of her garage apartment. She tossed the bag over the rail and heard it land before she launched herself over the support. She couldn’t contain her cry as her stomach rubbed across the banister, but she quickly forgot her pain when she heard a roar inside and the door came crashing inward.

  She knew without a doubt she had never seen the man before, and never wanted to again. His eyes were soulless, and he advanced too calmly, pulling out his own handgun as he limped his way across her apartment. Dangling from the balcony, she couldn’t think straight anymore. Fear served as her guide.

  She dropped from the balcony and landed hard on the hood of her truck, the air forced from her lungs. Gasping, fighting for breath, she grabbed the duffel bag and raced for the driver-side door. A soft sound, like popcorn popping, echoed from above her, and dirt and rocks kicked up at her feet.

  She didn’t bother to look up to see her would-be assassin firing on her from above. She jumped into her truck, throwing her bag into the passenger seat, then let out a startled scream as a round shattered her windshield and lodged in the steering wheel. Damn it! He’s just too fast! She dropped her keys and ducked down to retrieve them from the floor of her truck. When she popped back up, there were three round holes in her seat where she had just been sitting.

  Lowering her head again, she thrust the keys into the ignition and threw the truck into reverse. Another round whizzed through the windshield and shattered the rear as she peeled out of the short driveway. Dimly, she registered that the door Mr. Bell had lovingly installed for his wife hung from the doorjamb, obviously having been kicked in violently. She struggled to draw a deep breath. She had no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Bell would have been killed by the madman trying to kill her if they had been home.

  She felt tears rolling down her cheeks, and her stomach burned as if on fire. Sirens wailed down the street and she considered turning around and seeking safety with the sheriff, but she remembered his friendship with Jonas and knew she couldn’t possibly trust him. In her state of panic, she wondered if she could trust anyone. Jonas had had plenty of time to call in a few favors while she was on the road. He certainly had the money to make things happen, especially given how corrupt the world had become, and she didn’t doubt for a moment he had a powerful reach.

  She couldn’t sit up straight because of the pain in her stomach, and she glanced down, blinking when she saw she only had socks on her feet. Her mind couldn’t quite register what she saw with all the other things demanding attention. Her world had turned on its ear, and she knew it had everything to do with what she had found on Jonas’s computer. Would he try to harm or kill others if it helped him get to her?

  The ringtone on her phone went off and she screamed, fumbling with the phone because her hands were slick with sweat and blood. She hadn’t even remembered grabbing her cell phone before fleeing her apartment. Through her tears, she could barely read the phone number, but once she recognized it, she hastily pushed the button to answer it.

  “Phantom?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

  “Elena…where are you?”

  “I-I…I’m not sure right now.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Elena, go to your apartment. I’ll be there in just a few.”

  “No. No. I can’t go back there. I can’t ever go back there again.”

  “Elena… Okay, I’ll ask you more questions later. Can you make it to the ranch safely?”

  Elena tried to look up into the rearview mirror, then winced as the pain in her stomach pulled her back down to hunch over the steering wheel. “I think so. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “Santo will be following you. I’ll be here for you as soon as you get here.”

  “How-how does Santo…?”

  “Just trust me. We’re here for you.”

  Chapter 21

  Twenty minutes later, Elena drove up the dirt road to the ra
nch house. Headlights bobbed behind her, and she just accepted that they were Santo’s. She pulled into the drive and parked in her usual spot, then struggled to find the energy to open her door. Her shirt had become blotched with blood, but the sheer terror and shock of everything that had happened caused her to shake.

  Finally, she forced her door open and swallowed hard. What if she had brought the danger here to Phantom and his friends? What if she had brought the danger to Anya? She was about to step out of her truck when she remembered her feet. She couldn’t just walk into their house with her socks on. She couldn’t—

  Suddenly, he was with her. She recognized his cologne, felt his warmth and strength before he even touched her. He stepped partway into the open cab of the truck, his eyes searching her face. “Elena, I got home just a little earlier today and missed your phone call. You knew I was going to be gone for a few days…”

  “I’m so sorry, Phantom.” Damn these stupid tears! I am not this weak! “I made a terrible mistake today. And I never should have come here.”

  “Elena! What are you talking about?” Concern and frustration made his voice rough.

  “I found—I found this file…at Jonas Franklin’s house. It—He-he’s a slave trafficker. There were such horrible pictures. And someone’s going to auction them off this weekend. All of them. So, so many innocent people. I didn’t know where else to go.” She reached up and touched his handsome face, then grimaced as she saw the smudge of her own blood she left on his skin. “I may have led them straight to you and your friends. And Anya. Oh please, Phantom, I’m so sorry.”

  “Elena…Elena! Look at me. What makes you think that they—Good grief, you’re bleeding.”

  He began to pull away but she grabbed for his shoulder, trying to hold him close. “Is Anya safe? Can you get her somewhere safe?”

  “There’s no safer place for her to be than here with us. She’s inside with Stryker right now. We need to focus on you. Where are you hurt? Where is this blood coming from?”

  Having parked the truck, Santo appeared beside Phantom and pointed a flashlight at Elena. Her blood-splattered shirt seemed to startle both intimidating men. “I couldn’t move fast enough,” Elena said as a way of explanation, wincing as she tried to draw a deep breath. “He shot through the door before I could move—”

  “He shot… Fuck!” Phantom’s arms went around Elena, wrapping her in his embrace and lifting her from the truck. The world blurred as he carried her toward the house, Santo leading the way. “Where are you shot?” Phantom demanded.

  Elena suddenly felt safe. Phantom had come home and held her in his arms. That was all that mattered. “It was just a shotgun,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “Don’t be worried. There are some pieces of wood stuck in my stomach, though, and those are a bit painful.”

  “Just a…” She could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Where were you hit, Elena? Just answer me. That’s all that’s important now.”

  “My stomach, I think. But it’s okay. It really isn’t that painful. I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know why. Phantom?”

  He looked at her face, and she could see the lines of tension around his mouth. “Just your stomach? Anywhere else?”

  “Please, listen to me.”

  “I am, wildflower. I’m listening to you.”

  She heard the door to the house open and then Anya’s cry of alarm, but it all sounded very distant. “Phantom.” His eyes locked on hers. “I really don’t think my injuries are that bad. I think I’m in shock, though. Is it normal to faint when you’re in shock?”

  “Yes, that will happen sometimes, but just hang tight with me, Elena. We’re going to take care of you.”

  “Phantom?”

  “Yes, wildflower?”

  “I love you.” Finally, she allowed herself to relax and gave in to the peaceful darkness that surrounded her.

  * * *

  A string of curses flew out of Phantom’s mouth as Elena went limp in his arms. “For the love of Pete…where is my medical bag?” he demanded, his voice strained as his eyes scanned the stunned faces around him.

  “Here.” Santo spoke up softly at his elbow. “Let’s get her to one of the rooms. Anya, we may need your help. We don’t know how badly she’s been shot.”

  “Shot!” Anya exclaimed. “Who would shoot Elena?”

  “She said something about Jonas Franklin,” Phantom said tightly.

  Anya seemed to lose all color in her face but nodded solemnly. Phantom didn’t wait for anyone to open one of the spare bedrooms. He carried Elena directly to his room and didn’t hesitate before setting her down gently on his bed. His hands went to her blouse, but the blood had spread and he couldn’t undo the small buttons. They just kept slipping through his fingers.

  He was cursing again when Santo shoved a pair of scissors in his hands. “Cut everything off. We need to know every place she could have been hit.”

  Phantom grabbed the scissors, and for a moment it seemed as if he wouldn’t be able to hold his hand steady enough to cut off her clothes. Then he drew a deep breath and focused on his objective.

  Keep it simple, stupid. KISS. It had been pounded into his head during Hell Week. When it came to Elena, though, nothing could ever be simple.

  His quick and efficient slices with the scissors had her clothes falling to the side, and a combination of relief and anger surged through him. She had avoided the main impact of the gun, and only a few pellets had grazed her skin. The main source of the bleeding came from the slivers of wood that protruded from her like porcupine quills. He had seen far worse in the field. But this was his Elena, and someone had just tried to kill her.

  Anya nudged Phantom to move, and he turned on her with a growl in his throat. She had a better chance of moving hell than moving him away from Elena. Mine.

  “Fine. Stay there. But if you’re going to be in my way, then at least be useful.” She handed Phantom a basin of warm water and a warm, damp cloth. Santo held the same and was already beginning to clean the blood away so they could see the full extent of Elena’s injuries.

  Phantom had to pull back and assess her clinically. He wasn’t helping her by struggling with his anger. That would come later. “She’s going to need a few stitches, but it shouldn’t be that bad. We just need to get all this garbage out and make sure we keep infection at bay.” He was grabbing a pair of needle-nose forceps and reaching toward Elena’s stomach when Anya’s hand clamped down over his wrist.

  “Isn’t that going to hurt her?”

  “She’s not feeling a thing right now, Anya. Let me do my job. When she wakes up, I’ll give her something to numb the pain.”

  “We’ve got your back, brother,” Santo said tensely, watching with concern.

  Phantom nodded. “I appreciate it. I’ve got to get these pellets and wood out of her. The damage appears to be minimal, and I think she passed out from shock, just like she said. I need to work quickly before she wakes up.”

  Anya nodded absently and released Phantom’s wrist, then took a step back to give him room. Within moments, the sound of the round pellets and pieces of wood falling into a metal basin echoed throughout the room. Phantom’s muscles cramped as he bent over her with concentration, and every time he thought about how close she had come to dying, his hand would begin to tremble. So he switched his mind off as best he could and focused on the task.

  He was in the process of pulling out the last of the larger splinters when she drew in a sharp breath and began to struggle to sit up. “Relax, Elena. You’re safe. We’re almost done. Are you in any pain?” Phantom asked, leaning over her so she could see his face.

  “No. Yes.” Her gaze met his and she shook her head. “What happened?”

  “You fainted. Probably from shock. Do you remember getting here? Do you remember the things you were saying?”

  “Yes. I rem
ember coming here. I remember… Oh! That man tried to shoot me!”

  “We’re very fortunate that he has poor aim. You’re only going to have some minor cuts and scrapes once I’m finished. I need to finish getting all the splinters out and clean your skin properly. If you’re in pain, I can numb the area so you won’t feel anything.”

  Her brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you have access to such stuff? How do you know what to do?”

  “It’s a complicated story. We’ll talk about it in a minute. Will you please answer my question?”

  “I’m okay. It burns, but I don’t want you to numb it.” Her eyes drifted around the room and landed on her friend. “Anya! I’m so sorry I brought this mess to you. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You did the right thing coming here,” Anya said softly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I just hate that you’re going through this.”

  Phantom bent over Elena and concentrated on the last few tiny splinters. She winced several times, but didn’t try to stop him. Her strength and resilience amazed him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from ever being hurt again.

  He ran his hand across her stomach lightly, checking for any remaining pieces of wood and frowned at the blood that smeared under his fingers. She wasn’t bleeding heavily, and he knew with some simple bandages she would be fine. She wouldn’t need stitches after all. He just hated seeing blood on her beautiful skin.

  Several minutes later, he and Anya had finished cleaning the area and had placed bandages over the shallow cuts. Elena had watched their faces as they worked, her gaze bouncing between him and Anya. He knew she had a thousand questions, and so did he.

  She glanced down when they were finished and gasped. “Why am I naked?” She wrapped her arms around her chest, attempting to conceal her breasts. At that moment Santo stepped through the door, but kept his eyes averted.

  “I have the bag you had in your truck. I thought you could use some clothes.”

  Anya hurried to him and grabbed the bag. “Thank you, Santo. She’s going to be fine. Phantom was able to take care of everything.”