Finding Her Son(35)

Within seconds, his friend was at his side. “He’s behind a tree between those two houses,” Mitch said. “I’m going in.”

“You can’t,” Emily hissed. “Your leg.”

He glared at her. “Do you want to get shot?”

“How about waiting for your SWAT buddies to get here?”

“I’m not waiting to be picked off like a carnival duck.”

“Mitch…let me go,” Ian said quietly.

“You haven’t been trained for this. I have.” Mitch gave a cocky grin. “Even with a gimpy leg, I’ve got one up on you, Ian. And you know it.”

His friend paused for a moment, and Emily could tell he wanted to argue, but he finally nodded. She’d run into just enough of Mitch’s stubborn streak to understand why.

“Protect her, Ian.”

“I’ve got your back.”

Emily shifted slightly, her heart pounding. Not for herself, but for Mitch. He serpentined from behind the truck. Two shots hit the ground behind him. She winced as his leg hitched about halfway across the yard, but he kept moving.

Four rapid shots fired. Then silence.

“Mitch! You there, bud? We clear?”

No sound. Emily’s nails bit into her palm. Nothing but a siren coming toward them from the north. “Oh, God. He’s hurt.”

She tried to get up, but Ian shoved her down. “Don’t. He wants you safe.”

The intensity in Ian’s gaze as he studied the houses made Emily shiver. He was afraid. “Mitch, you better shout out,” he said, the sharp words the only thing that showed Ian’s fear.

A sharp curse lit between the two houses. Mitch appeared in the yard.

Emily sagged against Ian’s back. “Thank God.”

“Perp took off,” Mitch bit out when he reached them, dusting off his jeans. “He left his weapon. As he ran off, I noticed he wore gloves, so probably no prints. Hard to know if that was smarts or simply luck.”

“Did you get a look?” Ian said.

“Dark hood, hidden face. Size and shape of Ghost, maybe, but it could’ve been anybody.” He rubbed his leg and gave Emily a solemn look. “I can’t let you put yourself at risk like this again. You need someone who can really protect you.”

She could see the intent clearly in his eyes. He was leaving her. He couldn’t. Emily jumped to her feet and clutched his arm. “You can’t do that. There’s no one else I trust.”

A black-and-white pulled up, followed by an SUV. Dane Tanner jumped out. He surveyed the scene. “Where’d the shots come from?”

“Long-barreled, scoped .22 semi-auto pistol over there.” Mitch nodded toward the alley and then turned to Ian. “Get Emily into the truck,” he said, pointing to the hulking, tinted-windowed vehicle. “I want as few people to see her as possible.”

As Ian took her arm, Emily glanced at Mitch and Tanner. The detective looked back at her repeatedly. “Do you think he believes me?” she asked Ian.

“Mitch put his life on the line for you. How can you ask that?” Ian said.

“Not Mitch. Detective Tanner.”

Ian opened the driver’s side of the truck, and Emily slid in and over to the passenger’s seat. “He’s a tough one to read.”

“Mitch hurt himself. I can tell by his gait,” Emily said softly. “Because of me.”

“You’re a physical therapist. Help him.”

“If he’ll let me.”

Ian let out a small laugh. “You already know Mitch well.” He shot her a serious look. “Just don’t let him down. He’s one of the good guys.” Ian closed the door and planted himself nearby, his stare alert.

Mitch shifted to his good leg. Maybe the best thing was for her to push him away, but how could she put Joshua’s fate in the hands of anyone else in the Denver PD? Mitch Bradford was the only man who believed her, the only man she trusted.

Detective Tanner followed Mitch to the car and opened the door. “Are you okay, Mrs. Wentworth?”

“I’m fine. Mitch stopped him.”

“I understand.” Tanner faced Mitch. “I don’t want to know where you’re taking her, just keep her hidden.” He turned his back. “Vance, keep those kids away from the crime scene,” he ordered one of the flatfoots who’d responded.

Mitch eased into the vehicle.

“I saw that move as you ran across the street,” Emily said. “Is your leg seizing up? I could—”

“Don’t,” Mitch said, turning toward her, his expression stone-faced. “You left the safe house. You followed me. You almost died. Again.”

Emily couldn’t deny the accusations. “If you’d only told me—”

“Don’t put this on me, Emily. You’re the one who left a fortress to wander around downtown Denver when you’re a target.” Mitch shoved the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the curb, studying the road behind him.

“You weren’t honest,” she muttered, knowing it was a lame excuse. She’d almost gotten them killed. She had gotten him hurt. Again.

The car jerked and his jaw clenched, but he said nothing. When he rounded two quick corners to confirm they weren’t being followed, he sucked in a small breath.