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“Dr. Grant. Seriously, it’s okay. I have a gardener now.” Mr. Phillips smiles at me and I could slap him silly to make him see sense.
“Gardener? What do you mean, a gardener?” I suddenly realize what he is trying to tell me.
“There’s a young man down the road and he heard that I’d been ill and struggling with my lawns. He very kindly offered to do them for me. He wouldn’t accept anything for it, and we were talking over a coffee one day when he told me he’s saving to have his own homestead. He doesn’t know much about growing his own food, but he’s reading everything he can about it. I said that I used to grow a lot of my own vegetables, had pigs and chickens, and one thing led to another. I’ve agreed to teach him everything I know, and he’s turning a part of my garden into a vegetable plot to get his practical skills. Win, win.”
“Oh, well, that’s excellent for both of you then.” Turning to Mrs. Phillips, I give her my best stink-eyed look. “You knew that I’d go straight to town on your hubby, and not listen to a word that came from his mouth, didn’t you? You planned this.”
“I didn’t plan it Dr. Grant, but I told him he was for it when you saw the front lawn and the veggie plot. I guessed you’d do the same as I would’ve and checked the rear lawn, too.” She laughs, and it takes the sting out of me making a fool of myself.
It doesn’t take long to check Mr. Phillips out, and I have to tell him that I think the friendship with the young man is doing a lot more for him than just getting his lawns cut. He has a spring in his step and a glint in his eye. The mental stimulation he is getting by teaching that young man is doing far more for him than a week at any gym would do.
My second home visit done, and I enjoy a steady drive back into town. I love this truck. I thought my old one was something special, but I should write to whoever chose this at the insurance company and tell them they have impeccable taste in vehicles.
I’m reaching for the radio, some country would suit my mood right now, when there’s a bang. I look up and see a stone chip in the center of my vision. Goddamn it. Before I get to slow down or react at all, there are two more bangs on the windshield. Where the hell are stones flying up from?
Two more bangs and I realize they aren’t stones but bullets! Hitting the brakes, I duck below the level of the windshield and grab my cell. Pushing the first speed dial that comes to mind, I wait for someone to pick up. When a voice answers, I scream at them. “Someone is shooting at me. I need you to come and get me, quick.”
“Jamie, first of all, stay in the truck. You hear me? Whatever happens, do not get out of the truck. Where are you? I’m on my way.”
“I’m on the road where I got hit by the van. Hurry.”
Chapter 16
*~* Fury *~*
Sitting in the club kitchen having breakfast, I hear my cell ring and slipping it from my pocket I see it’s Jamie. Ignoring any potential repercussions, I answer it immediately, excitement flooding through me.
“Hello, Jamie.” Her response has my blood run cold and my protective instinct tune to DEFCON 1 in an instant.
“Someone is shooting at me. I need you to come and get me, quick.”
“Jamie, first of all, stay in the truck. You hear me? Whatever happens, do not get out of that truck. Where are you? I’m on my way.”
“I’m on the road where I got hit by the van. Hurry, please.”
“EVERYONE ON ME! JAMIE IS UNDER THREAT!” Rushing out of the clubhouse, I ignore the SUV I’ve been using so much lately and straddle my girl. She’ll burn through any traffic faster than the hulking SUV, and I know exactly how to push her to get there faster.
Ignoring any red lights, though thankfully there aren’t many between me and Jamie’s position, I have my hog roaring down the center of the road. A glance in my mirror and I see my brothers behind me, none of them sparing the horses. I see a van keeping station at the back of the pack and breathe a sigh of relief that someone had the presence of mind to jump in that beast. It looks beat up, but it holds a variety of weapons, and the back has been strengthened to provide a base to fire from or to retreat to, if required.
In the distance I can see the Ford parked at an angle in the road, but facing the opposite direction that I’d expect. As I get closer I can see someone on the ground by the rear wheel, and another squatting by them. I can’t get any more speed out of my girl but start to honk the horn to draw their attention. If that is someone squatting over Jamie, I want them to know that their time is up.
Skidding to a halt, I see that the person squatting is Jamie, and she’s working on someone with her medical bag open beside her. Rushing over to her, I grab her off the ground and after checking for any obvious wounds, I hold her to my chest. Feeling her tense up, I don’t care one bit. Glancing down, I see the person she was working on was Bandit, of all people.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where’s the shooter?” I hold her against me and I hear a little sob escape her lips.
“I’m fine, I’m not hurt, and whoever it was has gone. Now, let me go. I need to tend to Bandit.”
“I don’t care if he dies, as long as you’re safe. That’s all that matters.” A stinging blow to my cheek takes me by surprise and has me blinking.
“Well, I care! He just saved my life. If you thought anything about me, you’d be thanking him, not wishing him dead!” Dropping to her knees, she gets back to patching him up.
As everyone else arrives, Bandit points to the area the shooter was in, tells them he’s gone, but some of the brothers head off in that direction to check for clues.
“The shooter was at the treeline and was waiting for Jamie. He probably followed her from town and waited for her to return. He must know the area, Fury, because he was in the best position to both take the shot and be defensive. He’s no veteran, but he probably has hunting experience. Also, it was the same guy from the truck incident, unless we have two gray-haired, gray-bearded killers running loose around town.” Bandit winces as Jamie wraps his left arm with a dressing.
“Why don’t you think he’s a vet, if you think he was in such a good position?” I ask.
“If he’d been a vet, he wouldn’t have wasted so many shots at the Ford. A vet would recognize a bulletproof windshield after the first shot didn’t go through.” Bandit thanks Jamie, but when he attempts to stand up, she restrains him with a hand on his shoulder.
