Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(60)

“Okay,” Shelby said calmly. “Exactly what did you hear him say?”

“I lifted the windshield out of my way. I reached in over the dash to turn the car off. He was blinking real hard at me, as if he was surprised. And he turned to me, and he says, ‘I’m shot?’ You know, like he couldn’t believe it. Then he wanted me to tell Kelsey he loved her and, God, I lost it. I mean...”

The morning stormed over Gabe again. Once more, he’d arrived too late to save his friend. His heart thumped while he relived Alex’s last gasping breath. The blood that might not have been Alex’s blood. The death that might not have been real, either.

Gabe lowered his aching head, his mind rejecting all arguments as too hard to figure out at the moment, and that damned snaky feeling of a hand at his throat. Suffocating him. Triggers nagged at him to succumb to panic. Not now, damn it.

Shelby’s hand still rested on his arm. “But he was shot three times, right?”

Gabe nodded. His throat had gone sore and dry. “Yes, and then he slumped over, and he—”

Died.

Name it or not, admit it or not, PTSD had a sneaky way of elbowing the mission out of the way when it showed up. Like that day in the garage. Like thinking about Darrell. Or Alex.

“Three to his chest. Are you certain?”

“God, you don’t forget something like that.” At least not for long.

The prettiest violet-blues drilled him. “Alex wouldn’t have been talking by the time you got to him, Gabe—not if he sustained three mortal wounds, like you described.”

“I think you’re right,” Gabe whispered more to himself than to her, aware of the calmness flowing from her body to his.

Shelby frowned that beautiful of-course-I’m-right frown of hers. Did she have any idea how much he needed her touch on his arm right now? “Where’s Kelsey?” he asked, needing to be sure she was out of earshot.

“I gave her something to help her rest. You’re not going to tell her about the bodies, are you?”

Gabe looked to Zack for that answer. “I’d as soon tell her everything we think we know, but it’s up to you.”

“Let’s talk to her when she gets up,” Zack replied. “Kels is tougher than she looks right now. She might be able to take it.”

“Good. Since she’s sleeping, I’m going to take a quick shower. Be right out,” Gabe muttered, needing to be warm again. He couldn’t stop shivering.

Zack and Shelby followed him to his duffel bag in the front room like two overprotective mothers. “Will you two back off? I really can dress myself,” he said, between chattering teeth. “It’s not like I’m dying here.”

“No, but you’re coming down with something.” Shelby eyed him intently. “You’re flushed and your eyes are red. Is there anything I can do to help?”


“No, ma’am. Probably got river water in my eyeballs is all. I’m good.”

“You should’ve let the sheriff handle it,” Zack drawled. “You didn’t need to go swimming. They have trained divers for that, you know.”

“Yeah. I know, but Kelsey needed peace of mind, and I think I’ve finally found some for her. Least, I hope. I’ll call Mark soon as I’m done showering. He needs to send someone over to my place to get my dirty clothes.”

“I’ll call him,” Zack answered. “Get changed. You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Gabe pulled a dry pair of cammie pants, a couple of pullover shirts, and some clean socks out of his bag before he headed to the bathroom. In no time at all he was under the shower, his pistols once again on the lid of the hamper.

The hot water felt good, but he still shivered. His muscles ached. Head ached. By the time he’d dried and dressed, congestion had settled into his chest and everything else ached, too. Damn, I’ve got the flu.

He took extra care drying his bionic foot, but he was more worried about Kelsey’s reaction to what he’d found than he was ensuring his spare parts were in good condition. Traces of Alex. Two bodies. It didn’t get more bizarre than that. And the blood evidence on his clothes? He opted to keep that from Kelsey until he knew for sure it didn’t belong to her husband. Damn. Had she been right all along?

Zack had a cup of coffee waiting for him at the kitchen table and Shelby stood there with a blanket in her hand by the time he exited the bathroom. Gabe stuffed his dirty clothes into his rucksack. He brushed the notion of the blanket aside and grabbed a kitchen chair instead, but Shelby thought she knew better. She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders the minute he sat down anyway.

“You’re sick,” she said firmly. “And you’re feverish. I made lasagna for dinner, but I’ll get you something for that fever first.”

He would’ve argued, but a coughing fit ensued. She might be right. “I got news for you. That river’s cold in the summer. And it’s dirty. No wonder Kelsey’s as sick as she is.”

Shelby returned with a glass of water and three tablets in her hand. “Here. Ibuprofen. Take them.”

He obeyed, not able to ignore the tender touch of her cool fingers on his cheek. Nurse Sullivan had changed. Her fingers lingered longer than if she were simply diagnosing a sick guy.

“Not sure I’d have gone into the river if I’d known who else was in it,” he admitted. Her gentle smile caught him by surprise.