“Faith?” The voice was weak, but it came from somewhere down the wide hallway to the right.
“We’re coming. Hang on.”
Lord, I hope you protect idiots. We’re gonna need a double portion. Thanks.Luke couldn’t keep up with Faith. She ran straight to the last door at the end of the hall and raced in. “Hope.”
Luke entered the room, but the women weren’t in there.
“In here, Luke. Help me.”
Following the sound of her voice, Luke eased his way through the bedroom, then the bathroom, and eventually into a large walk-in closet. The skin on his neck and arms prickled. He didn’t like being in the interior of a house he hadn’t cleared, but then he saw what had happened.
Boxes lay in heaps around an empty wheelchair. The woman on the floor beside it had a very bloody gash at her hairline. Faith moved a box and grasped Hope’s shoulders. “What happened?” Luke joined in and pulled the remaining boxes off the woman trapped under them.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You must be Luke.”
“You must be Hope.”
“What gave it away?” she asked as Faith helped her into a seated position.
“The tattoos.”
Hope snickered and turned to Faith. “I like him.”
Faith wasn’t appreciating the humor. “You don’t have any tattoos.”
“That you know of.” Hope offered a fist to Luke, and he bumped it.
Faith shifted a final box away from the wheelchair. “She doesn’t have any tattoos.”
“It was a joke, Faith. Relax.” Hope shifted her arm. “Could you lock the chair please?”
Luke wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. Hope was clearly a strong and independent woman. But he didn’t know if he could stand aside and watch her struggle to climb back into the chair. All he could do was ask. “Hope, would you allow me to help you?”
Hope frowned, then shrugged. “It would seem most practical, although if you pull a bunch of stitches, don’t blame me. Got it?”
Luke slid one arm under Hope’s knees, put one arm behind her, and she cooperated by putting her arms around his neck. “Lift with your legs, Special Agent Powell. I’m not sure your insurance will pay for a back injury.”
Oh yeah. He liked her a lot. Her skin was lighter than Faith’s, but she had the same straight black hair, dark eyes, and strong cheekbones. She wasn’t large. Built even smaller than Faith, she was still a respectable weight for him to lift. But he got her up and into the wheelchair without dropping her, so he was prepared to call it a success.
“There’s blood on your shirt.” Hope pointed toward the bathroom. “I have some stain remover in there.”
“It’s no big deal. I’m used to having blood on my clothes.”
“I prefer to keep my blood on the inside,” Hope countered.
“Well, that’s boring.”
“I WOULD KILL FOR BORINGright now,” Faith muttered. The remark earned her two groans, in unison. What was happening? Luke and Hope had met thirty seconds ago and already they were tag-teaming her?
“You’re an FBI agent.” Hope made the statement like she was explaining the law to a four-year-old.
“Really? I had no idea.”
“I think she means you don’t typically join the FBI when you’re in search of a quiet life.” Luke had his back toward her now, setting a few boxes on top of each other.
Hope winked at Faith and mouthed, “He’s so cute” before speaking in a normal voice. “Exactly. Boring isn’t a word anyone would see beside your name in the dictionary.”
Luke moved another box, this time with a small grunt accompanying the thud of plastic on plastic. “Are you hiding dead bodies in these things?”
