Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire #1)(43)

“Garrett?” she whispered, and held her fingers to his throat. His pulse against her fingertips nearly made her shriek with joy.

She quickly checked him over—though she was not really qualified to make any kind of medical diagnoses or decisions. But she was all he had.

His arm was covered in blood from a deep gash across his biceps, but he didn’t appear to be bleeding from anywhere else other than his lip. He had been kicked, though, so she worried he might be bleeding internally. She didn’t dare move him until she knew more.

“Garrett, please wake up. Please?”

As if in answer to her plea, his eyelids fluttered. He squeezed them tightly closed for a moment, then opened them again, focusing on her face.

“Sam?” He spit blood and winced.

“I’m here, baby.”

“Please tell me I have been laying here for ten days and you did not come back to help me after I told you to run.”

She knew he was trying to be angry, but his voice wasn’t up for it. He sounded more exhausted than irritated.

“Not ten days. Sorry,” she offered with a wince.

He tried to sit up and gasped in pain. He pulled up his shirt sleeve and shook his head. “Damn it.”

“Are you okay?”

He examined it closer. “The bullet went through. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me get you a towel. We can put pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”

“We need to get moving before the next team arrives to finish up what these guys started.” He started to rise. His quick breath whistled across his teeth. “Go pack your things.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “But you’re hurt.”

“Sam, for Christ’s sake, can you please start listening?”

“Okay.” She nodded, but tied the towel around his arm first and helped him to his feet. When he was standing under his own power without falling over, she ran down the hall and did as he’d ordered.

It took maybe a minute to stuff everything she owned into her backpack. Then she ran back out to the living room.

Garrett was moving a little better, but he wasn’t fast, by any means. He handed her the Glock, which she crammed in her waistband.

“The rifle. I left it leaning against a tree.” She pointed out at the woods.

“Leave it,” he snapped.

A twinge of unease twisted her stomach. That gun had become like a friend to her. It had saved her life, as well as Garrett’s. But rather than admit to having formed an unnatural affection to a firearm, she simply nodded in agreement.

Garrett wasn’t packing much in the way of clothes. Instead, he was loading up more guns and ammo. The first aid kit and a large manila envelope were tossed into a grocery bag.

“Let’s go.” He tossed his laptop in his duffel bag and struggled to get it over his head. She took it from him and slid it over her shoulder with her backpack as he swayed.

She grabbed his arm and steadied him. If he fell, she didn’t know how she would ever get him out of the house. He just needed to stay upright until she could get him to the Jeep.

But where she’d go from there, she had no earthly clue.





Chapter Thirty-Two


Garrett shook off Sam’s hand and picked up the grocery bag of miscellaneous items, determined to carry something…despite the fact his vision was blurry and he was barely able to stand. He was trained to do his job through pain and injury, and he would damn well do it now.

With his gun drawn, he went out the front door. He didn’t bother to lock up—he wouldn’t ever come back here. Too bad, he’d really liked this place.

“You won’t be able to come back because of me,” she said, walking by his side. Sometimes she was too observant.

“It’s no longer safe.”

“Are you going to blow it up?”

He managed a smile. “No. That only happens in the movies.” He started for the driver’s door but couldn’t even get his arm up to open it.

“Oh, hell no,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

“I’ll be fine.” He tried again, but his arm wasn’t moving right.

“You aren’t fine, Garrett. And I’m driving.”

He glanced down the narrow driveway, which was partially blocked by a black sedan in a very inconvenient spot. Couldn’t anything go right?

He opened the door of the sedan and slammed it shut again when he didn’t see the keys. They must be on one of the dead guys, and there wasn’t time to search all those pockets.

She smiled as he frowned. “I’m on it.” She reached behind the Jeep’s seat and pulled out her chain.

Fuck. He was never going to live this down.

Maybe strings weren’t a good thing, but he wouldn’t be able to argue against the necessity of a chain now and then. Her idea would be quicker and less disgusting than sorting through pockets.

With a sigh, he stepped back and leaned against a tree for support.

She backed the Jeep up to the car. He was impressed when she didn’t stall it. After she connected her chain to the tow loops under the car’s bumper, she hooked it to the hitch on the back of the Jeep, got in, and pulled forward across the parking area, just far enough that the car was no longer in the way.

After retrieving the chain, with a smirk on her face, she held open the Jeep’s passenger door for him. He gave in.