“I’m trying to protect you,” Mat screamed. “No one would’ve been hurt if you’d just let go of that stupid ranch.”
“What am I missing, Mat? Why do you need my ranch so badly?”
Jackson locked his gaze on to hers, silently encouraging her to keep Mat talking. As long as he was talking, there was a chance things wouldn’t escalate.
Gun still drawn and aimed at Mat, Jackson continued to creep slowly into the room.
“You think you’re so smart with all your fancy degrees. But you still couldn’t figure out what was going on under your own nose on your own land. You’ve been pissing off the wrong people since you came to town. I’ve used up all my goodwill to keep you safe now.”
“Mat.” Jackson called out his name, trying to keep his focus off Aja. “The only way you’re walking out of here is if you put your gun down and let her go.”
“Texas Rangers, huh? You’re signing your own death warrant. Let me pass.”
Mat’s focus was on Jackson and Storm just behind him at the doorway. He didn’t see Aja slipping her fingers into the front pocket of her jeans or the glint of light striking whatever it was in her hand that she slipped into her closed palm.
Jackson gave her a brief glance to make sure she knew what she was doing. Her eyes never wavered. Whatever she was planning, she was fully committed. And if Jackson knew nothing else, it was that he could trust Aja Everett.
Jackson took a step to the right to keep Mat’s eyes on him and give Aja time to do whatever she was planning.
She swung her arm back, connecting with Mat’s thigh. Screaming out in pain, he dropped his arm, allowing Aja to escape toward Storm, and grabbed his thigh with his now free hand, pulling his fingers away when they connected with what looked to be a fingernail file.
Mat raised his gun to aim at Aja’s back.
“Last warning,” Jackson yelled. “Put it down now.”
Mat stared at Jackson. At first, the man seemed to concede defeat, his gun arm dropping ever so slightly. But then Jackson saw a spark of defiance flash across the man’s eyes, and he knew this was going to end badly.
Mat Ryan lifted his gun arm, and the moment he did, Jackson pulled his trigger. Two loud pops cracked the air as both weapons discharged.
Mat fell instantly to the floor, one dark-red stain saturating the center of his shirt and spreading outward. Jackson kept his gun aimed at him, kicking the man’s weapon out of his reach and looking around the room to see if Aja was okay. He didn’t see her.
He secured the room, picking up Mat’s gun, tucking it in the back of his jeans, before leaning down to check for a pulse. When he couldn’t find one, he let out a long sigh of relief and slid into the nearby chair against the wall.
Storm stepped back in the room with his gun drawn. “Clear,” Jackson choked out as a burning sensation made him grab his arm.
“You all right, man?”
“Is Aja all right?”
Storm jerked his thumb behind him. “She’s outside with Jennings and Gleason.”
Jackson grabbed his now-throbbing limb and groaned. “Good,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “Then now might be a good time to get a bus in here.” He lifted his hand from his arm and watched blood drip from his palm onto the front of his shirt and jeans. “I think I’m hit pretty bad.”
Chapter 42
Aja was more than tired of this hospital. In less than a week, she’d been here twice waiting for the medical staff to update her on the well-being of someone she cared for.
She paced and tried to self-soothe, reminding herself that Jackson was a strong man, and people survived gunshot wounds to the arm all the time. He was here to get help. But whenever she’d start to calm down, the sterile walls and the acrid scent of antiseptic would remind her that people came to hospitals not only for help but to die.
He can’t. He just can’t.
The heavy ball of anxiety and devastation that had claimed her when she’d learned of her sister’s death grew again, sitting in the middle of her chest. How had she found herself in the same situation twice in one lifetime?
How could she endanger another person she loved after everything that had happened with Drucilla?
That she’d classified Jackson as someone she loved didn’t strike her as strange. She’d felt that emotion creeping up on her in small instances throughout their relationship.
Cold settled in her bones as guilt and worry wrapped themselves around her, binding her in a helpless cocoon. What if she never got the chance to tell him how she felt? What if he died never knowing how much she loved him?
