Spy in the Saddle

Crimson covered her ripped suit sleeve.

His blood ran cold as he watched hers drip. “You’re hit.”

He slammed on the breaks and did a U-turn, tires squealing, horns beeping around them as he plowed into the opposite lane, back the way they’d come. Oh, hell.

She was shooting him the megadeath glare. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”

If he was, he was entitled to it with her showing up in his life after all these years without warning. He straightened the car on the road. “Taking you to the hospital.”

“The bullet didn’t hit bone. It’s not that serious.” She held the bloody arm up, bent at the elbow, and looked under her sleeve for a few seconds before she flexed her elbow. She winced and tried her best to hide it, turning her head.

He stepped harder on the gas. Oh, man. He’d had her for only an hour and he’d broken her already.

Jamie was going to kill him. Mitch Mendoza, too. Mitch was probably going to torture him first. “Push your seat back. Head down, arm up. I’m going to get you help.”

“I’m not bleeding out. Take it easy.”

He couldn’t. He’d been responsible for her in the past and that somehow stayed with him. Plus she was Mitch’s baby sister now.

Dammit, he should have never let her come with him to Jimmy’s place.

He glanced into his rearview mirror, but the Mustang had already disappeared. “From now on, you work out of the office.”

“I don’t think so.”

Anger rolled over him. “If you didn’t get shot, I would have those idiots by now.” She had no idea how distracting she was.

“You could have killed us with your driving,” she snapped back. “You could have killed innocent civilians.”

He swallowed a growl, hoping to God they would sedate her at the hospital. He wondered who he’d have to talk to to get her knocked out for a week.

He drew a steadying breath and focused. “When we get to the E.R., you need to keep in mind that my team is doing undercover work here. We’re consulting for CBP as far as everyone else is concerned.”

“I’m not going to the E.R. Seriously.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “If you want to, you can take me back to my hotel. I wouldn’t mind changing clothes.”

“You need a doctor.”

“I have a first-aid kit in my room. It’ll be faster. I go to the E.R. with a non-life-threatening injury, and we’ll be there for the rest of the day.”

He chewed that over. She was right. Not that he had to like it.

“Fine. I’ll take you back to your hotel. But I’m looking at your arm. Then I’ll decide if you have to go to the E.R.”

She scowled and, even scowling, managed to look beautiful. “You were always bossy.”

She was talking about the bad old days.

“I was supposed to tell you what to do. That was my job.” And he’d failed spectacularly. He didn’t like to think about that, so he asked, “Where are you staying?”

“Pebble Creek. Prickly Pear Garden Hotel. Right in the middle of town.”

He knew the place.

He picked up his phone and called the office, updated Ryder on what had happened at the trailer park. With the license-plate info Lilly had already called in, half the team was already out looking for the Mustang, and so was local law enforcement, so that was good. They’d get them. Shep told Ryder the direction the car had been headed when last seen.

“How are you doing?” he asked Lilly when he hung up. They were reaching Pebble Creek at last and he had to slow a little as there were even more cars on the road here.

The small border town was getting ready for a rodeo. There were signs all over the place and billboards with images of cowboys and bucking bulls. The rodeo circuit was a big deal around these parts, a lot of outsiders coming in, which wasn’t helping their investigation one bit.

“You’re not responsible for my well-being,” Lilly was saying. “I’m not seventeen anymore.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” he said aloud, without meaning to.

A quick laugh escaped her, the sound sneaking inside his chest. Even her laugh was sexy, heaven help him. He turned down Main Street, drove straight to the hotel and pulled into the parking structure.

“Are you okay? Why don’t you just sit here for a minute?”

She shot him a dark look. “I’m not going to pass out.”

Good. Because he really didn’t want to have to carry her up. He didn’t think he could handle touching her.

They walked to the elevators together. He kept close watch on her from the corner of his eye. At least they were alone when they got on. Her bloody arm would have brought on some questions, for sure. But they reached her room on the third floor without running into anyone.

She had a suite, small but tidy. She walked straight to the closet and grabbed some clothes. “I’m going to clean up. Make yourself at home,” she said before she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

He looked around more carefully. The space, like any hotel room, was dominated by a bed: king-size, plenty of room for two. He cut that thought right off and turned his back to the damn thing. He blew some air from his lungs. He shouldn’t be here. He shoved his hands into his pockets and reassured himself with the thought that he was here only in a professional capacity, and this would be the last time.

He scanned the rest of the furniture: a desk and a table with chairs in the small kitchenette. Plenty enough for the week she would be staying.

The sound of running water drew his attention to the bathroom door. He bent his head, rubbed his thumb and index fingers over his eyebrows as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He so didn’t want to think about the new, grown-up Lilly naked under the hot spray of water.

He did anyway. Maybe he had more self-discipline than the average Joe, but he was still a man.

She kept the shower brief. Long before he could have reined in his rampant imagination, she emerged from the bathroom, wearing soft white slacks and a pale green tank top that emphasized the green of her eyes. A nasty red wound, at least four inches long, marred her lower right arm. It still seeped blood.

She went to the closet again and bent to the bottom. She grabbed a jumbo first-aid kit, then came over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I wouldn’t mind if you helped me bandage this up. I’m not good with my left hand.”

The bed? With five chairs in the suite, she had to sit there?

He almost suggested the kitchen table, but he didn’t want her to guess that she affected him in any way.

He stepped up to her, trying not to notice her fresh, soapy scent. “You travel with an emergency kit?”

She’d been a pretty haphazard person back when he’d known her, definitely not the Girl Scout type. More of a “let the chips fall where they may” sort of girl.

She popped the lid open. “I like to be prepared.”

Of course, she was an FBI agent now. She’d probably been shot at before, even if he didn’t want to think about it. Obviously, she’d lived and learned.