She gave Cole a long appraisal. If Blake was okay, and she hoped that he was, she certainly didn’t want to be another source of frustration for him. He had enough worries leading a team of federal agents and chasing a killer. “Fine, but you have to let me out as soon as you’re done with your evaluation.” She shuffled forward on noodle legs and struggled into the back of the ambulance. Her head swam, and she repositioned her feet for balance on the shiny metal step.
“She hasn’t eaten,” Cole tattled, boosting her the rest of the way inside. “The assailant threw her headfirst into Blake’s tailgate. She was out for about two minutes, and woke with confusion, a headache and a few moments of memory loss, but I think that’s all come back to her now. She’s claiming no nausea, but...” He shrugged as if he didn’t believe her. “She’s under severe stress. Possible post-traumatic. Her sister’s missing. She’s attached herself to the agent on the case, who’s currently in pursuit and we just heard two gunshots.”
The EMT mouthed a slow “Wow,” before speaking again. “Blake’s the agent?”
“Yeah.”
Embarrassment rolled through her. Was that what she’d done? Attached herself to Blake? Was that what everyone around them saw? A victim clinging superficially to her hero? She pressed a hand to her stomach, fighting another wave of nausea. Her cheeks burned with humiliation. They’d had a near kiss at the restaurant, and the moment had meant something to her, but maybe that sort of thing was an everyday occurrence for him. She could certainly understand why if it was.
The EMT flashed another light in Marissa’s eyes, and she slapped it away. “Will everyone please stop doing that? It hurts.”
He took her wrist in his fingers and checked his watch. “I’m Henry Garrett,” he said. “I’m the uncle.”
Marissa heaved a long breath. What was with these Garrett men? Was a hero complex in the DNA?
Cole climbed onboard and closed the doors behind him. “Uncle Henry taught me everything I needed to know about basic triage. He’s the reason I pursued medical training in the army.”
Henry strapped a blood pressure cuff on Marissa. “Our family requires a lot of first aid.”
Marissa fixed Cole with a pleading stare. “Please find out why there were gunshots.”
She fought to maintain her composure, no longer caring if everyone in Shadow Point thought she was a needy victim. All that mattered was that Blake was okay, and she needed to know that neither of those bullets had connected with him.
Cole swept his gaze to his uncle before slipping outside and shutting Marissa in.
* * *
THE AMBULANCE DOORS were shut when Blake arrived. Cole slid his phone into his pocket and lifted a palm. “I just called you.”
“I didn’t answer.”
“I know. Why not?” He scowled.
Blake closed the distance between them in a determined stride. “Well?” he demanded, shooting a pointed look at the ambulance and fearing the worst. Why else would she be locked inside while his brother was forced out?
Cole’s stance stiffened. He dropped his hand to his side. “Where’s West?”
Blake reached past him for the ambulance doors. He thumped his palm against the metal. “Open up. This is Federal Agent Garrett.”
Cole grabbed Blake’s arm and jerked. “Where’s West, Blake? Answer me.” His no-nonsense tone implied there might be a fist coming if Blake didn’t comply.
Blake reared to his full height and faced off with his baby brother. What the hell was wrong with him? “West’s at the river. What’s your problem?”
Cole stepped back, clearly relieved. “There were two gunshots and an explosion, man. What the hell do you think is my problem?”
Recognition dawned and Blake clapped a palm on his brother’s shoulder. “West is fine. He’s tracking Nash downstream.” He dropped his hand and raised a humbled brow. “I got free of the blast, but Nash got away. Sorry man. I wasn’t thinking.”
Blake had been so focused on reaching Marissa that he hadn’t considered what those gunshots might have sounded like to Cole. Any other day, Blake would’ve recognized the fear in his eyes and set the facts on the table immediately. He might’ve even given orders on what to do next, but at the moment all he could think about was whether or not Marissa was going to be okay.
Cole stared past Blake, confused. “You lost Nash?”
“Yeah, but I also shot him. I think. I don’t know. He jumped into the river.” Blake thumped the door again. “Open up.”
“Jumped or fell because you shot him?” Cole asked.
The ambulance doors opened, and Blake hoisted himself inside on weakened limbs. “I don’t know. Both, I hope.”
“Me, too,” Cole muttered, closing Blake inside.
Marissa sat on the gurney, an ice pack pressed to her head. Another drooped over her shoulder. His uncle Henry monitored an IV attached to her arm.
“You’re okay?” Blake asked, falling onto the bench against the wall. His knees bumped the gurney and Marissa flinched. “Sorry.”
She batted teary eyes. Her face was splotched and puffy as if she’d been crying. “What happened?”
Blake’s heart broke. He abandoned the bench for a seat beside Marissa on the gurney. He pulled her to her chest and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry I left you.”
Her arms wound around his middle and his heart swelled at the touch. She buried her face against the curve of his throat and the emotions she’d so carefully hidden from him before flowed freely now. “I thought you were shot,” she cried. “I thought you were blown up. Gone.”
“Shh,” he whispered, cradling her in his arms. “I’m okay. So is West. Verdict is still out on Nash. That was my gun you heard. The explosion was poorly rigged. I got out of the way before I was hurt.” He lifted his face to search for his uncle. “How is she?”
Uncle Henry tipped his head left and right, indicating it
