Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (30 page)

Cassie backed herself and Deborah away from the SUV, so she could keep an eye on the driver, mindful of keeping the other woman as her shield. Getting shot in the head wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Tell your men to drop their weapons,” Cassie hissed into Deborah’s ear.

“Shoot her!” Deborah screamed. “Shoot through me and kill her!”

This woman is insane.

A loud report of a gun sent a shockwave through her arm, knocking her back on the ground. Cassie’s head gave a sickening thud just as Deborah fell heavily on top of her.

“Cassie!” John cried.

Deborah moaned above her. Cassie couldn’t seem to breathe as pain spread through her upper arm. She pushed the other woman off her. Taking deep, gulping breaths, her vision dimmed at the corners as she fought the lure to pass out. She watched John grappling with the two goons and a dark form approaching from the SUV, feeling like she was in a hazy dream.

Cassie knew she was in deep shit, but her body refused to get up.
Where is the gun?
It was dark, the area lit only by the light from the porch and a smattering of stars.

“Finish her off,” Deborah said hoarsely somewhere from her left.
 

With concerted effort and with her left arm stinging, Cassie tried to rise again, only to slip and fall face first on the ground. She was flipped on her back as a heavy weight straddled her thighs. The man was a behemoth.

Ruthless fingers gripped her chin, forcing Cassie to stare into malicious, beady eyes made all the more sinister by the shadows of the night. “That’s it, look at me, bitch.”
 

Cassie managed to yank her leg from under him to try and knee him in the groin but struck his thigh instead. Deborah’s goon swore viciously and smacked her across the cheek with an open palm. “I like fighters, but enough is enough.”

Fighters. She was a fighter dammit. Summoning whatever strength she had left, she growled and head-butted him. The man’s weight eased off enough that Cassie managed to sit up, but she was slammed back to the ground. Riding on adrenalin and with her pulse pounding in her ears, she bucked her hips and lashed out with her good arm.

She heard an unholy roar before her assailant’s weight suddenly disappeared.
 

Cassie immediately rolled to her side and heaved up. Her eyes searched frantically for Deborah’s gun and made out its dark angular shape not too far from her feet. Snatching it up, she took in the situation.

Trent!

He and her assailant were locked in battle and she could make out Lucas’s form taking on one other man.

Deborah.
 

Cassie’s head whipped to her left. The admiral had her at gun point and it looked like she was wimping out on her gunshot wound. Good.

Two figures were on the ground, unmoving. One of them was John.

*****

“A dark SUV just made the turn into your driveway.”
 

Lucas updated them when he and the admiral arrived. Cassie’s twin had called him just as Trent was making the turn onto the road leading to his house and warned him to come in cold. So Trent switched off his headlights and let his cruiser slowly roll to a stop twenty feet from his drive where Lucas was waiting for them.

“I couldn’t get close, but I definitely see another woman on the porch with Cassie,” Lucas said, handing Trent the monocular. Aiming it through the thicket of trees surrounding his property, he saw some movement below the porch. “I’m making out two more unidentified subjects. Probably Stile’s crew. Fuck.” He moved the monocular slightly to the left. “I see the headlights of the vehicle. It’s almost at the house.”

Handing the scope back to Lucas, he took out his phone. “They must have bypassed the south perimeter alarms. I couldn’t turn it off, but chances are it’s already offline. We can cut through the west quadrant. It’s shorter and at least we’re sure it’s really off. Come on.”
 

It was a short trek to his house, but it felt like an eternity. With the arrival of that SUV, there might be a chance that the better option was to let them take Cassie and then track her. All Trent knew was he would be terrified out of his mind if that happened. They were halfway through the west quadrant when they heard a woman shout.

“That’s Cassie,” Lucas whispered.

Trent quickened his steps. Another woman screeched. This time the words were clear. “Shoot her!”

When they heard the gunshot, all logical thought fled Trent’s mind and his whole being was gripped with hammering fear. He flew through the trees at a dead run, ignoring the scrapes against tree trunks and branches and hoped to hell Lucas and Porter were right behind him. Trent broke into the clearing, his eyes zeroing in immediately on the scuffle on the ground. Killing rage fired his blood when he realized a man was pummeling Cassie to the ground. A savage, guttural sound vibrated deep from his chest as he hauled the man off his woman. Keeping his grip on him, Trent punched the man straight across the face. The man staggered drunkenly, but didn’t fall. He was a big motherfucker, slightly shorter than Trent but bulkier by maybe forty pounds. Growling in response, the man struck. Trent dodged and swore as the man’s fist clipped him on the chin. They exchanged blows for a while until a driving need to tend to Cassie fueled his determination to end this fight. After blocking a punch meant for his abs, Trent struck a combination jab, cross, and uppercut. When his opponent wobbled, Trent instantly spun a roundhouse kick, walloping the man’s head. The man toppled like a domino, falling unconscious to the ground. Trent patted him for more weapons, retrieving a small pistol and a knife before slapping the cuffs on him.

His gaze instantly searched for Cassie. She was with Lucas, bent over John.
 

“I’ve already called 911,” the admiral informed him.
 

Assured that Cassie was fine, at least for now, he strode for the Silverado and hopped on the bed. He rummaged through the toolbox and pulled out a first aid kit and several flex cuffs.

Leaping down, he tossed a couple of the restraints to Porter to secure Deborah who was still whimpering on the ground, clutching her shoulder.
 

At this point, Trent didn’t care if she bled to death, given what she had put his woman through.

He approached their injured man and crouched beside Cassie, flipping open the first aid kit. John was barely conscious. There was a pool of blood under his body.

“Where’s he shot?”
 

“Gut and shoulder,” Lucas said while keeping pressure on the side of John’s torso. “Gut is through and through. No exit wound on the shoulder. I’m not sure what to do with that one.”
 

That bullet had probably lodged in the shoulder blade.
Fuck
that would mean bone damage.
 

“I’ve got a couple of QuikClot. We need to be careful when we apply pressure to the shoulder,” Trent said as he retrieved medical shears from the first aid kit and cut through John’s bloody shirt. “He doesn’t seem to be bleeding profusely from there, which means it didn’t damage the brachial artery. But there might be bullet fragments close to it.” He decided to leave it to the EMT to handle that.
 

“Hang in there, man,” Trent muttered as John reacted with a moan of pain as he squirted alcohol over the open wound. He packed the combat gauze into the gut injury.

“Try to keep him conscious,” Trent said after he’d administered first aid. It was the best he could do while they waited for an ambulance.

“You’re going to be all right, John,” Cassie’s words were thick with tears. Trent felt deeply for her. John had always watched over her, and had now proven he would always protect her. Trent regretted that he, Lucas, and the admiral didn’t get here sooner.

The scene had to be secured further, but he needed to hold Cassie even just for a second. He touched her shoulder gently, fighting the urge to snatch her up into his arms.

“Cassie.”
 

She turned to him and smiled wanly, and it was then he noticed the steady trickle down her arm.
 

“You’re bleeding.” His brows drew together. What he first thought was John’s blood turned out to be hers. “Where else are you hurt?”

“The back of my head.”

Trent angled her closer against the porch light to take a look and inhaled sharply. “Your hair is soaked with blood. I assume you didn’t pass out this time either?”

Cassie shook her head.

Damn it, where’s that ambulance.

“You’re going to the hospital to have that checked out, babe,” Trent stated calmly, but his insides were roiling.

“I’m fine. Mac can take a look later.”
 

What and treat you with veterinary supplies?
Trent thought but didn’t say.

He suppressed the urge to yell at her, closing his eyes briefly and counting to three. When he opened them, he sent her a quelling look. “You’re going to the hospital if I have to hogtie you to get you there. You get me?”

Her jaw clenched mutinously, but she nodded briefly. Now was one of those times he didn’t find her stubbornness adorable. Trent knew she hated hospitals. He knew why, but he would be there with her to make sure she didn’t have any fucking flashbacks. Blows to the head could be serious, and he’d rather she be pissed at him than have her drop dead from an undiagnosed brain hemorrhage.
 

Sirens blared in the distance.

Finally.

The goon Lucas had knocked out was stirring, so Trent pushed up from his crouch to secure him in flex cuffs.

“Trent?” Cassie called out softly.

He turned to look at her.

“Thanks for beating up monster man for me.”
 

The corners of his mouth hitched up. “Anytime.”

“Didn’t I just treat you this afternoon?”

There was humor in the EMT’s voice as he bent over Cassie, who was seated on the steps of the ambulance. Two ambulances and three police cruisers showed up and Trent was thankful that Frank and Brooks were among the deputies who’d arrived.

“John,” Cassie said, gesturing to her friend still on the ground. “Will he be okay?”
 

“My partners are working on him. They need to make sure he’s stable before they move him,” the EMT said. He held up her arm to inspect it, prodding the area around the wound. His woman winced, but didn’t say anything. “Doesn’t seem like any bone is broken, but it’s best to have it X-rayed. It’s a really deep wound and you might have a wee chunk of flesh missing there.”

Cassie laughed and then hissed, gingerly touching the back of her head.

“Let me take a look at that, babe,” the EMT said.

“Don’t call her that,” Trent growled.

The EMT gave him a look before straightening to assess the injury. “Nasty bump and laceration. You’re going to need a scan. I’m going to clean your wounds of visible debris and apply pressure bandages, okay? But you
are
going to the hospital.”

“But—”

“No buts, hellcat.” Trent crowded in and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be with you the whole time, all right?”

The EMT sighed in exasperation. “Sheriff, I’m going to have to ask you to move—”

Trent scowled and was about to chew the man out when Porter appeared by his side.

“A word, Sheriff,” the admiral said mildly, gripping Trent’s elbow.

“Not now, Admiral.”
 

“Yes, now,” Porter said firmly. “Let the man do his job.”

“If you’re implying I’m not doing mine, Brooks and Frank are on top of things,” Trent replied tersely, pointing to the Buckland County deputies who were canvassing the scene.

The admiral didn’t answer, but dragged Trent away from the ambulance.

“What could be so important that this couldn’t wait?” Trent was in a mood. He felt like he was crawling out of his skin. Cassie was going to be fine. It was a flesh wound. How many of those had he had when he was in the Army? Also, she’d hit her head before and she was fine. She’d never blacked out. But repeated brain injuries couldn’t be good. How many of those had she had?
Fuck!

“You can pass out now,” the admiral said dryly, crossing his arms in front of him, and regarded Trent intently.

“Excuse me?”
 

“Sheriff, you were about to lose it on that poor paramedic. It’s either that or pass out from the breaths you were not taking. You’ve been keeping a tight rein on your emotions the whole fucking day. A woman you care about has been under threat of kidnapping and death, and I commend you for not freaking out for every scrape and injury she has sustained.”

“Your point?”

“I know you’ve been trying to keep it together for her.”

They stared at each other for a while. How could this man, who he had known for only a brief time, read him so uncannily?
 

“I can’t be freaking out when she’s the one in danger, when she’s the one who’s injured, and then have her worry about my state of mind,” Trent explained. “All I wanna do is keep her from getting hurt and protect her, but that would mean keeping her from being who she is, and everything about her is what I fell in love with. She needs to be assured I can handle that part of her life, but seeing her shot right now and getting beaten up by that son of a bitch...” Trent’s voice cracked.

“Today was extreme.”

“I know,” Trent said gruffly. “She’s proven time and again she’s a force to be reckoned with and she amazes me. But times like these simply terrify the fucking shit out of me. Fuck...” He broke off and raked a hand through his hair. “Piper’s death spooked me more than I thought it did. A bullet, Admiral. All it took was one bullet through the head.”

“Wipe that out of your mind, Sheriff.” The admiral clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That happened to Piper, not Cassandra. It’s unfortunate Piper surrounded herself with people who she couldn’t trust to have her back. That’s the difference between Cassandra and Piper. In this case, John had her back even if he himself was up against the odds. Move on from this incident. Wipe that stuff clean.” Porter inclined his head past Trent’s shoulder and smiled. “Now go to your woman. Looks like she needs to be hogtied before they can take her to the hospital.”