Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(73)

‘Nicole!’ Steve indicates the bag and I sweep it up and toss it into the SUV.

‘You think you’re going to get away?’ Ian asks me. ‘They’re coming for you.’

I feel a twinge of fear at the back of my neck, but I ignore it. ‘Come on, Steve,’ I say, the gun pointed at Ian.

Steve releases Ian, but in one swift move Ian swings his leg around and catches Steve behind the knees. Steve drops to the ground with a grunt. Ian hovers over him, his fist raised.

‘Don’t!’ I warn.

Ian looks up at me. ‘Or you’ll shoot me?’

I have shot a gun before, but it is not second nature to me, so when I pull the trigger I feel the report shoot through my arm and I jerk back involuntarily.

‘Good try,’ Ian says, ‘but no cigar.’

My whole body is shaking now. I am barely able to keep my grip on the gun. Ian makes a move toward me, but Steve is on his feet now and he lunges toward him, his shoulders making contact with the backs of Ian’s legs, causing him to lurch forward and then down on the ground, face first.

‘Come on,’ Steve says roughly, and I don’t wait. We are both in the SUV; Steve is starting it and the headlights illuminate Ian blinking at us as he struggles to get up. We pass him and the SUV careens down the road.

I am not really aware of where we are going. It feels like Steve has turned around a couple of times, and suddenly I can see the buildings in front of us. A light flashes on, a motion detector, as we move along a gravel driveway. I can see them bobbing in the distance – the boats. Motor boats and sailboats. No fishing boats here. We are at one of the marinas on the west side of the island.

A figure appears in front of us; Steve slams on the brakes so we don’t hit him. He is wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, a baseball cap.

Chip Parsons. The guy Steve says has a crush on me. The one from the Yellow Kittens.

‘I knew you wanted to fix me up with him, Steve, but this might not be the time.’ I am so nervous, the teasing just comes out without thinking.

Steve’s hand closes over mine. ‘I called him while I was waiting for you. I figured you’d need some help.’

I appreciate what he’s done, but this is one more person who knows where I am and where I might be going. I begin to argue, but Steve says roughly, ‘Now, go.’ He puts his hand back on the steering wheel.

Something about him, the way his jaw is set, the way he’s holding his head is not right.

I see it then, in the light from the building.

The blood on his shoulder.





THIRTY-SIX


My God, I shot Steve. I missed Ian, but I shot my best friend. ‘Steve!’ I exclaim. ‘What did I do?’

He gives me a wan smile, but I can see the pain etched around his eyes. ‘Get out of the car, Nicole. Chip can take you to the mainland. He can be trusted.’

‘But you’re hurt!’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ He looks anything but fine. ‘Just go. Please. You have to leave.’

‘What’s up?’ Chip has come over to the driver’s side window, which Steve rolls down. He looks over at me. ‘You ready, Nicole?’

‘I can’t go now,’ I say.

‘No, we’re not going now,’ Chip says, misunderstanding. ‘But we can leave at first light. I’ve got a place set up for you to stay until then. You can get a little sleep.’

‘But—’

‘Chip, can you give us a couple minutes?’ Steve asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but as he rolls the window back up, Chip politely pretends to be interested in something on the horizon. Steve looks back at me. ‘Nicole, the bullet just grazed me. It’s just a flesh wound. Really.’ And to prove it, he shrugs off his shirt so I can see that he is right. There is blood, but it looks more like he’s gotten a really bad deep scratch. He winces as he pulls the sleeve back over it. ‘Now you can go.’

‘Let me clean it up for you at least,’ I say. I climb out of the SUV and call over to Chip. ‘Is there a washroom in there?’ I ask, pointing to the building.

Chip nods, and I go over to the driver’s side. Steve gets out, but not as reluctantly as I anticipated. He must be in a lot of pain. Chip sees it now, the blood on Steve’s shoulder. ‘What happened?’

‘Just a little bar fight.’ Steve chuckles, but it is not his usual jovial laugh.

‘I need to clean it up for him,’ I explain.

Chip leads us to the building, and he opens the door to the washroom for us, again discreetly leaving us alone. I close the toilet seat and Steve sits. There are paper towels and I turn the water on, waiting for it to get hot before soaking the towels and pumping some soap into them. Steve has taken off his shirt, and I begin to wipe away the blood and see that the wound is smaller than it looked in the car.

‘I wish I had some peroxide,’ I say. ‘When you get home, you have to put peroxide on it.’ I pause. ‘Are you OK to drive? Do you want me to go with you?’

Steve puts his hand over mine. ‘Nicole, you have to leave. You have everything you need?’

I cannot think about that now, though. ‘I shot you,’ I whisper. ‘I am so, so sorry.’ The tears come then, falling down my cheeks, and with his other arm, Steve pulls me close so my head rests on his chest and I can hear his heart beating.