Another agent came running and Owen motioned with his head to the stream. “There’s one trying to get away.”
I turned to the stream and saw the man hobbling and falling over the rocks, clawing his way up the bank. The agent quickly apprehended him.
“You did this?” Owen asked, looking down at the gruesome scene beneath us.
I flinched and looked away. “I had help.” I looked up to him. “Liam.”
Owen blinked in surprise and looked around, as if he might see him, but Liam was probably long gone.
He carried me back to the entrance of the park, to where an ambulance stood. He lowered me onto a gurney, and a paramedic took over, asking me questions and flashing a light into my eyes.
I looked to the left and found one of my protection detail agents on a gurney next to me, bloody compression bandages around his torso. His partner was unscathed, but squirmy. My gut twisted. I hated that he got hurt because of me. I didn’t even know their names.
I looked up from his abdomen to find the agent staring at me, a sheepish grin on his pale face.
I returned his smile. “Did you get ‘em?”
His grin widened. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
He held his fist out to me, and I bumped it, as they loaded us into the ambulance.
Ava
Owendidn’tleavemyside for the two days I’d spent in the hospital. Not that I could remember much of the first night, past the headache and dizziness, when the concussion hit hard. I remember Rachel and my parents showing up in the middle of the night. I remember Mom tying my hair back while I vomited my guts out over the toilet, and Rach shooing Owen out the bathroom, knowing I felt embarrassed as he watched me too closely.
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen her vomit,” he’d protested, but there was no getting around Rachel.
After that, I had slept through the night and morning, only waking late afternoon. My family was speaking in hushed tones, and I almost couldn’t focus on what they said through the splitting headache.
“We have been quiet and supportive, but this is insanity! I cannot watch my daughter risk her life like this,” my father hissed, and I flinched. He was usually the calm one.
“She keeps ending up in a damn hospital! Where will this end, Becket? This needs to stop.” Rachel’s voice quivered, and my insides twisted.
“I agree,” Owen whispered.
That sent a shot of anxiety through my fragile system, rousing me more from the haze in my mind. I opened my eyes to look at him. His head hung low, his hands deep in his pockets. His hair was messy and there was a smudge of blood on the shoulder of his white shirt. Probably mine.
“So we all agree. She’s coming home with us,” my mother said, crossing her arms in finality.
Would Owen do it? Would he let them take me away like that? Would he leave me? I swallowed down the sharp stab in my throat—that old familiar ache. “Don’tIget a say in this?” I huffed hoarsely, trying to pull myself into a sitting position. Everyone turned to me, and Mom rushed to help me, plopping two pillows behind my back to support me.
Dad ran a hand over my arm. “How do you feel, kiddo?”
“Like I was headbutting a bull.” I rubbed at my aching temples, my aching throat.
“I’ll go get the doctor to give you more pain medication,” Owen said and turned for the door, not taking his eyes off me.
“Use your gun if you have to,” I joked.
He mustered a small smile for me and disappeared out the door.
“They are releasing you tomorrow, but the doctor said to keep you in bed for at least another week. We’re taking you home. You can stay with me and Dad for a while, so we can keep an eye on you.” Mom turned to Rachel. “Rach, will you be staying with us too? I’ll get the spare bedroom ready and…”
Mom ranted on, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. There was no way I could go home. The Russians were after me, and I didn’t want to put them in danger. Hell, if I had my way, they would be in witness protection. It wasn’t above the bad guys to go after the people you loved. Look what happened to Liam. And the auction was in a few weeks.
“I’m staying here,” I blurted over my mother, silencing her. How much did they know about what was going on? Did Owen tell them about the Bratva? Gods, I hoped not. Or they would never leave. And I needed them far away and safe. The FBI needed to get a protection detail on them as soon as possible. I would beg Director Devereux on my knees if I had to.
