Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(10)

Part three was the adjustment. Growing up, going to schools, multiples of them, finding a life worth living, learning to understand what relationships were, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first affair, and then her first graduation and her second graduation, followed by a third. Those were the normal steps in life here. Although she’d been behind when she first arrived in the States and had been held back from school for a long time until she began to speak again and could pass her placement tests, she’d eventually made the most of her new reality.

Until part four. When her physically healthy mother, at only sixty-two, had a heart attack and died on the kitchen floor, while Issa had been working on her research at the university. She’d found her mother when she had arrived for dinner. And all that part one pain and shock and loss reopened, and she realized how little she’d dealt with that original pain.

Now an adult, she had been forced to go through the motions of organizing her mother’s body for cremation and finding a place to lay her to rest. It had been tough to go back into her mother’s apartment to clean up her personal belongings.

And just like Pandora’s Box, she’d opened the box of paperwork and then been kidnapped—her world split anew and part five began.

Part five tore her world apart.

The footsteps returned. She couldn’t stop the shudder rippling down her spine. She didn’t know who this first man was, but she recognized caring when she felt it.

He’d brought her in from the cold, but, more than that, … Roash trusted him.

For her, that said everything.

Until she heard a second voice. And the thick Irish accent.

*

“How is she?” Eagle hovered as Gray cleansed and then stitched up the head injury.

“She needs a doctor,” Gray snapped. “How do you expect her to be?” He twisted to stare at Eagle. “I get that you don’t want to bring in the sheriff, that you want nothing to do with authority anymore, but what you can’t have is this woman dying on you.”

Eagle’s voice was hard. “That’s why I brought you in.”

Gray shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I don’t have the proper facilities here to take out that bullet.”

“You do it, or I do it,” Eagle said firmly. “No law enforcement types.”

Gray twisted on the side of the bed and glared at him. “Why? Why would you choose to put her life at risk by not calling for help?”

“Because she’s running for her life. Somebody shot her. No way in hell am I letting anybody else know she’s here.”

He watched as Gray’s face worked. In many ways Gray was like Eagle, somebody who didn’t do well with the establishment. But Gray would call the sheriff or EMTs. Or a lawyer. Whoever was needed, he would reach out for help, whereas Eagle had been the help for a long time. Being in the military, he’d spent time all around the world, helping military coups, fighting against insurgents, saving people, rescuing kidnap victims. He’d been the one everyone called for when they needed help.

Besides, how could Gray understand the bizarre events that had occurred when Eagle found this woman? Eagle didn’t understand them himself. But he knew, from that moment on, it was his job to protect her. In whatever shape or form was required. In his personal experience he’d seen the enemy in many different disguises. He often intuited when and where the attack would come from. And he was damn sure it was coming. And soon.

If he hadn’t trusted Gray, Eagle wouldn’t have called him. As he studied the older man, he wondered just how much he trusted him now. Because if he told anyone she was here, … then Gray had suddenly become the weakest link.

Eagle dropped his gaze and walked to the window and studied the yard around the house. The birds had returned to normal in their pens. They were one of the best security systems he could possibly have. Along with the two dogs.

He turned back to Gray. “Are you with me?”

Gray was already prodding the woman’s shoulder. “I think the bullet went through the soft tissue and missed the bone.”

Eagle walked over and sat down. “Stop.”

Gray’s fingers froze.

Eagle pointed. “On that side, a lump is under the skin.”

Gray whistled. “Pass me the scalpel, will you?”

Eagle reached over to the towel that held the surgical instruments. He picked up the scalpel, passing it to him. He knew what came next. He grabbed one of the antibacterial cloths and quickly wiped the area. He watched and waited as Gray made a precision cut through the skin and went digging for the bullet so damn close to the surface that it had almost gone through by itself. When he grabbed the tweezers and pulled it out, Eagle held out his hand for it.

Eagle studied the bloody bullet. Then shook his head. “A .22. Somebody shot her with a .22 rifle.”

“Good squirrel gun but it doesn’t do so much for humans.”

“She isn’t much bigger than a squirrel.”

Grimly Gray nodded. “How long do you think she was kept captive?”

“That’s something I need to find out. Do you think she’s naturally skinny, or is this malnutrition? As in, could this have developed through weeks to months of captivity?”

“It’s malnutrition. It’s prolonged stress. I’d say she’s been a captive without food for at least a week, potentially with skimpy rations for a couple months, but she’s naturally lean.”