Avenger (Impossible #3) (4 page)

“Thank you, Dr. Ellers.  I think we have what we need now.”  Agent Vaughn stood to turn off the camera, and then Clayton was smiling at me gently.

“Now that I’m cooperating again, do you think that you’ll be able to help Sean?”  I asked immediately.

Clayton’s smile disappeared, and he shifted uncomfortably.  “I’ll do what I can, Claudia, but I can’t make any promises.  I’m sorry.”

He looked as though he really meant that.  I wanted to be angry with him for letting me down, but I couldn’t be.  After all, it was my fault that he had been forced to arrest Sean when I backed out of my deal with the FBI.  I took a deep breath and nodded my understanding.

“Well, do you at least have enough evidence against Ronan now?  Can you arrest him?”

Clayton looked even more discomfited.  “No, Claudia,” he admitted regretfully.  “Not right away at least.  When we ran ballistics, we linked that gun to several other shootings spanning over the last fifteen years.  We are doing what we can to link Ronan to those other crimes to make our case more solid before we bring him in.  The last thing that I want is for him to slip through our fingers.  If we bring him in with what we have now, he’ll know that you’re responsible, and then he’ll come straight for you.  It’s a miracle that he hasn’t already.  I can only guess that Bradley hasn’t told him about the link between you and his arrest.”

“Bring him in,” I insisted.  “Then let him come after me.  If you can catch him in the act, then your case will be ironclad.”

Clayton pinned me with a hard stare and shook his head.  “No way, Claudia.  It’s not the FBI’s policy to use innocent people as bait.  We won’t put you at risk like that.”

“But I want to.  I volunteer,” I protested.

“Let me rephrase that:
I
won’t put you at risk like that.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly, preparing to argue.  His eyes softened in response to my hard stance.  “We
will
get Ronan,” Clayton promised me.  “Thanks to you, we’re close.  Just a few more days, Claudia.  That’s all the time you’ll have to wait.  Then he’ll never be able to hurt you – or anyone else – ever again.  And the Westies hierarchy will crumble.  I just need you to be patient for a little while longer.  Can you do that for me?”

I continued to glare at him for a long moment, dissatisfied by his answer.  I wanted to bring Ronan down
now.
  And I wanted Sean to be free.  But it seemed that neither of those things was within my direct power to grant.

“Okay,” I said finally, nodding.  “But I want to know as soon as you bring him in.  And I want you to keep me updated on what’s going on with Sean.”

“Deal.  Now let’s get you home.  It’s getting late, and you look like you could use some sleep.”

I walked to the elevator with him compliantly, realizing that I really did need to sleep.  My brows rose in surprise when Clayton stepped into the elevator with me.  “You don’t have to walk me to my car,” I told him.

“Not only will I be walking you to your car, but I’ll be riding in it with you.  I’m not leaving your side until we have Ronan.”

“But won’t there be a security detail tailing me?”

Clayton’s jaw tensed.  “After their failure with the Garcia situation, I’m not trusting your safety to anyone but me.  The security team will be outside your house, but I’ll be staying on the couch.”

My brows rose further.  “I don’t remember extending that invitation.”

His eyes narrowed.  “I’m not giving you an option, Claudia.  Now, I could threaten you with telling the FBI about your little rendezvous with Ronan in the parking garage, but you and I both know that I would never follow through with that.  So you’re just going to have to accept that I’m staying with you.  End of story.”

As much as I hated being bossed around, I knew that what Clayton was saying made sense.  The FBI had failed me when I came home to find Garcia waiting for me.  Having someone in the house with me was a good idea.  And there was no one who I would trust more being in my home alone with me than Clayton.  Sure, he had kissed me and admitted that he had feelings for me, but he was a perfect gentleman.  I had no doubt that if he said he was going to stay on the couch, he would stay on the couch.  Unlike Sean, who would just come into my room uninvited and sprawl out naked on my bed as though he had every right…

I shoved the memory away.  “Okay, Clayton.  You win.”  I paused, then added: “Thanks.”

The corners of his full mouth quirked upwards and his bright blue eyes glowed.  “You’re welcome.  And thank you for not fighting me on this.”

I smiled slightly and nodded in acknowledgement of his thanks.  I was grateful not to fight as well.  I was also grateful that Clayton had taken me to retrieve my own car from Ronan’s parking garage that morning.  It was a miracle that my purse was still on the floorboard.

“So,” I said conversationally once we were situated in the car.  “Tell me more about your captain of the football team days.  Were you Prom King too?”

He knew that I was teasing him, but he grinned.  “But of course.  It’s a given that you’ll be Prom King when you’re dating the head of the cheerleading squad, who also happens to be the most popular girl in school.  She pretty much controlled the entire student body.  If she told them to vote for me, then they voted for me.  It really had nothing to do with me personally.”

“She sounds like Regina George,” I said, laughing.  For a moment I was concerned that my pop culture reference would be sadly outdated, but Clayton eased my worry by laughing along with me.

“I suppose she was a bit of a ‘mean girl,’” he admitted.

“And don’t be so modest,” I continued.  “I’m sure plenty of the girls voted for you without much encouragement.”

“Why, Claudia, it’s not often that I blush, but it’s positively becoming a habit around you.  You do know how to flatter a boy.”  He was grinning, and there was no trace of a blush on his tanned cheeks.  I rolled my eyes at him.

“I don’t think ‘boy’ is exactly a suitable term.  You’re what, twenty-eight?”

“And the flattery continues.  I just hit the big 3-0 last month.”

I mock-shuddered.  “Ew.  You’re
ancient.
  I expect you might kick the bucket any moment now.”

“It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long,” he said, smiling.

We continued our comfortable banter during the ride back to my place.  It was amazing how he could help me forget all of my worries and make me laugh.  It was so easy to be with him.  A part of me marveled at the concept that I had a friend.  And even though I knew that Clayton wanted to be more, and that I had contemplated becoming more, having him as a friend was exactly what I needed right now in order to maintain my sanity.

When we arrived at my house, he made me wait in the car until he could come around and open my door for me.  Once my feet hit the pavement, he placed his hand on the small of my back, keeping his body close to my own in a protective stance.  His touch was familiar, intimate, but I was grateful for the support.  I couldn’t deny that I felt safer with him by my side.

We were at the steps leading up to my front porch when it happened.  Both of our heads whipped around at the sound of my azalea bushes rustling.  A masked, black-clad figure emerged from the foliage, and I froze.  It was Garcia all over again, but this time I had no means of defending myself; my gun was sitting atop the table just inside my front door.

“I knew you were a whore,” the dark figure growled as he raised a gun.

“Claudia, get down!”  I wouldn’t have been able to move of my own accord, but Clayton shoved me hard.  I fell, my knees banging painfully against the steps as I caught myself on my hands.  The shot rang out before I had even hit the ground.  More deafening
cracks
rent the evening air, and I could see the black-clad figure fleeing.

And then Clayton was dropping to his knees, clutching at his stomach.

“Clayton!”  I cried, alarmed. I shoved myself to a kneeling position, not caring if the assailant was still lurking, waiting for a clear shot at me.

He fell back, and I automatically caught him under his shoulders so that his head wouldn’t crack against the pavement.  But he was too heavy for me to hold him up, so I lowered him down gently.  I could see his face now, his handsome features twisted in pain.  My eyes darted down to the hand that was still pressed against his stomach.  It was covered in blood.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, his voice strained.

“Oh my god, Clayton!”  I pried his hand away from the wound, and the gory hole that I saw made my stomach twist.  I pressed my own hands against it as hard as I could, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.  He cried out at the act.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  We have to stop the bleeding.  We have to get you to a hospital.”  I was babbling.  I could hear the footfalls and shouts of the FBI agents approaching us.  “You’ll be okay, Clayton.  You’ll be okay.”

I was distracted from the horrific sight of his blood seeping through my fingers when his hand cupped my cheek.

“Claudia.”  His voice was calm.  My eyes were drawn to his.  They were filled with that intense, electric light that seemed to shine from within.  “Are you hurt?”

There was something hot and wet on my cheeks.  I tore my mind from the panic that was engulfing it to take inventory of my body.  “No,” I answered shakily.  “I’m fine.”

He smiled softly, and his thumb traced the line of my cheekbone, wiping my tears.  “Then it was worth it.”

Then his hand dropped from my cheek and his eyes closed, shuttering the light that shone from them.

Chapter 4

“Clayton!”  The panic came crashing back.  I moved one hand to his chest, keeping the other pressed hard against his wound.  His heart was beating erratically, and his breathing was ragged.  “Clayton, stay with me,” I demanded of his unconscious form.  Oh, god there was so much blood.  “Don’t you dare die on me.  Don’t you dare.”  My voice was furious.  I couldn’t lose Clayton.  I couldn’t…

“Shit.”  I looked up to find who had cursed.  A dark-skinned woman was pressing two fingers against Clayton’s neck, checking his pulse.  “Hang in there, Vaughn.  The ambulance is on its way.”

An eternity passed before I heard the wail of approaching sirens.  I could feel Clayton’s life slipping away as his blood poured over my fingers, the beat of his heart beneath my palm becoming more and more unsteady.  This couldn’t be happening.  That bullet was meant for me, not him.  If he died, it would be my fault.

I was aware of paramedics at Clayton’s side, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face.  I longed for his striking eyes to open, to see his wide, perfect grin.  The idea that I would never see them again was unbearable.  I couldn’t bring myself to let him go.  Someone’s hands closed around my shoulders, pulling me away from him so that the paramedics could lift him onto the waiting gurney.  I scrambled to my feet, forcing my unsteady legs to support me.  I couldn’t leave his side.  When we reached the ambulance, I moved to climb in after him.

“Ma’am, you can’t come in here,” one of the paramedics insisted.  My hands curled into fists, and I tore my eyes from Clayton to glare at him.

“I’m a doctor.  I’m riding with him.”

“I don’t have time to argue with you.  We need to get him to the hospital stat.  You’re not coming.”  With that, he slammed the doors shut, and the sirens blared back to life as the ambulance sped away from me.  A frustrated sound escaped me.

Someone’s hand gently closed around my upper arm, and I glanced over to the person who held me.  It was the dark-skinned woman who had stayed by Clayton’s side as we waited for the ambulance.

“Come on,” she said.  “You can ride with me to the hospital.”

I half-ran to her black SUV, and she jogged to catch up with me.  I was grateful that she shattered the speed limit as we followed the ambulance.

“I’m Sharon, by the way,” she supplied as she expertly wove through traffic.  I just nodded in acknowledgement, the rising bile in my throat preventing me from speaking.  We reached the hospital in less than ten minutes, but the drive seemed excruciatingly long.

My hands were twisting before me as I strode towards the waiting room.  When I reached it, I began pacing back and forth anxiously, wishing keenly to be by Clayton’s side in the ER.

“Dr. Ellers, why don’t you come and sit by me,” Sharon suggested, her voice even in an attempt to calm me.  I just shook my head sharply.  The adrenaline pumping through my veins demanded that I stay active.

“At least come to the restroom and clean up.  I’ll come with you,” she urged.

Clean up?  I glanced down at my hands and saw that they were stained crimson.  The sight made my gut twist as my stomach rebelled.  I rushed towards the restroom, Sharon following quickly in my wake.  I barely made it to the toilet in time.  Sharon knelt beside me, rubbing my back as I heaved until nothing more was coming up.  Tears were blinding me, and my entire body shook.

I didn’t have time to fall apart; I needed to get back to the waiting room in case there was news about Clayton’s condition.  Sharon helped me to my feet and guided me towards the sink.  Mechanically, I washed my hands, scouring my skin with my nails as I scrubbed the blood from them.  The water turned pink as it swirled down the drain, and I fought the urge to be sick again.  When the water ran clear, I squared my shoulders and rushed back to the waiting room, where I resumed my pacing.  Sharon tried to guide me to a chair, but I shook her off.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed other FBI agents sitting in the waiting room, their expressions strained.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when a man in green scrubs appeared at the entrance to the waiting room.  His expression was solemn.  I wanted to rush towards him, but I froze on the spot.  Sharon approached him slowly, dread etched in every line of her face.  The doctor spoke to her softly, and her head bowed.  He squeezed her shoulder, his eyes full of sympathy.  Sharon turned to me, and I could see that her face was wet with tears.  My chest tightened and I stopped breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “He…”  Her voice broke.  “He didn’t make it.”