Firestorm (Security Specialists International Book 6) Page 7

  "We'll work on that in the SSI gym." He knelt and cupped her chin, as he sent glances to the man who was still down. Then he asked, had to ask, because…fuck, just because he needed to be there for Tara as he hadn't been for Fee…because Fee hadn't told him and he hadn't asked. "He tore your clothes. Did he rape you?"

  She shook her head, her eyes closed. Then she whimpered. The sound made Price's heart hurt. When a strong woman whimpered, a man knew she was hurting badly.

  The downed man cursed. The fucker was trying to get up.

  "Be right back, firefly." He leaned over and brushed a light kiss over the top of her head as he used to do for Fee when she'd skinned her knees and run to him for comfort.

  Tara grabbed at his arm with bloody fingers. "He's not sane, Price." Her eyes were solemn. "Don't do anything you might regret."

  "Wouldn't regret it." Price gave her a grim smile, then turned and walked toward the man.

  Tara's attacker struggled to his feet. He growled at Price, his teeth bared. Tara had been spot on—the cocksucker was mental. But he'd put his hands on the woman Price had claimed as his, though she wasn't aware of that fact yet.

  "Come on, dickwad." Price gestured come here with his hand. "Want to fight? Try me on."

  "Price. No." Ren came to his side.

  Tweeter took control of Tara's assailant, by kicking the legs out from under the guy, then putting his booted foot on the man's chest and holding a gun on him.

  "Keely just called Dan. Let the law handle him," Ren said.

  "He touched my…he touched Tara. Hurt her." Price glanced over and saw that DJ and Keely were with her. That was good.

  "Tara said something about this guy killing Maisie." He looked at Ren. "What the fuck happened? I thought Tara was meeting you for drinks and dinner." He looked at the man who now moaned and bitched about his elbow. The guy was lucky Price hadn't broken his fucking neck. "Is this the one Keely texted me about? The man who hit on Tara?"

  "Yeah." Ren blew out an angry breath. "But he left the bar with Maisie. Then Tara got a call and needed some privacy to handle it."

  "Call?" Price kept glancing at Tara.

  "We suspect from one of her brothers. Fee had told Trey Tara's brothers were pressuring her to move back home to Montana."

  "Like hell they are." Price's nostrils flared and he forced himself to calm down. He needed to talk to Tara and put in his two cents about why she needed to stay here.

  "Take it easy. Tara let the gals know she's not going anywhere." Ren grinned when Price let out a relieved sigh. "Anyway, Keely received a text from Tara with an SOS, and I got a call from her brother Aidan who told us to get outside because she was in danger. And here we are."

  "Price? Ren?" Keely called out. "You need to get over here."

  DJ passed them as she moved to back up her man. "It's bad." DJ's face was pale and her eyes haunted.

  Shit. Price had seen that look on his sister's face who, like DJ, had been abused and raped.

  As he and Ren approached Tara and Keely, Tara met him and burrowed into his body. He put his arms around her and took her weight. Wracking shudders swept over her in rhythmic waves. "Tara? That's it. Let it out, firefly. Give it to me. Let me share your pain."

  She looked up at him. Her golden eyes wet with as yet unshed tears. "He…he killed…Maisie—" She heaved a few sobbing breaths as tears began to stream down her face, making tracks through the streaks of blood on her golden-brown skin. "Raped her."

  "Fuck." He pulled her closer and surrounded her with as much of him as he could as she cried against his chest.

  "Sorry, Price, but we need to know where Maisie's body is," Ren said. "Tara hadn't gotten that far with the gals."

  Tara's breath hitched and without raising her face from his shirt, she pointed in the direction of the stand of trees that bordered the side lot. "Over there. By the white Ram truck. He broke her. He bragged…admitted killing…and raping—" Her words trailed off and let out a despondent sigh. "Fuck. Just fuck."

  Ren ran toward the area Tara had indicated. His friend cursed, then turned and walked back to them. His phone now at his ear, Ren called Dan. "You're gonna need a crime scene crew, the coroner, and the EMTs, buddy. We've got a cluster on our hands." Ren listened. "Maisie is the one who's dead. Tara kicked the attacker's ass and Price finished it. No, the bastard's alive. The EMTs are for him and Tara. We haven't assessed the full damage yet. Yeah, we aren't going anywhere. We didn't touch Maisie. Yeah, yeah, we won't spoil your crime scene. Just get here."

  After Ren hung up, he asked, "Tara, why were you outside?"

  "That call. It was my brother. I needed some air." Tara grimaced. "Should've stayed inside."

  Yeah, she should have—and she lied just then. Price would find out later why she really had left the diner alone. From the sound of her voice, something about the call had spooked her almost as much as Maisie's death. But—

  "So, how did the fight begin?" Price asked. "Did you stumble across him with Maisie's body?"

  "No. He st-stalked me. In the back lot." Tara shuddered, as a whisper of lingering fear in her voice had Price wishing Ren and Tweeter hadn't shown up when they did. "Was scared at first. Then got pissed when I saw it was the guy who'd tried to pick me up." She swallowed hard and looked first at Ren, then him. "I h-had my Ka-Bar. Confronted him near Maisie's body. He pulled a gun. Said he was going to do to me what he'd done to Maisie. I threw my knife at him, he dropped his gun. I used savate, thought to tire him out. He got me on the ground, said he was gonna r-rape and k-kill me—"

  Tara blinked and more tears fell. She collapsed against him.

  Fuck this, Price picked Tara up, then held her tightly against his chest. He rocked her as he might a small child, giving her what comfort he could.

  She shuddered and turned her face up to his. "He hurt that woman because I said no earlier."

  The devastation in her eyes and the tone of her voice made Price want to howl.

  Price looked at Ren. "I'm taking her inside. I'm going to check her over and make sure she isn't seriously injured. Send the EMTs in when they get here. That piece of shit can wait."

  Ren nodded. "Tweeter and I'll secure the scene until Dan gets here. Price, take pictures of every mark and wound before you clean her up. And don't ask any more questions about the stalking and the fight. Leave that for Dan. Okay?"

  Price grunted. It was mostly okay, but he needed to know what her brother had said to her that made her leave the diner and go outside alone.

  "I'll go in with them. I'll use my camera to take pictures," Keely said. "Plus, we superwomen need to stick together."

  Ren grunted. "Good idea, baby. Tara?"

  "Yes, Ren?" She turned her tear-stained face to look at his friend.

  "Ren? She needs to go inside." Price warned. Tara's voice was wispy, weaker than Price had ever heard it. He'd never seen her cry and never seen her this exhausted, not even after working a forty-acre wildfire. One reason could be she was coming off a major adrenaline high and was about to crash. Another could be she was in pain; she might have some fractured ribs. He adjusted his hold so he didn't put pressure on her torso.

  "Fuck, Price, I know she's dropping, but I need to know where the fucker's gun went," Ren said.

  Tara shook her head, then paused, "He was standing under that light." She pointed. "I was off to the side a bit and my knife hit his arm, he jerked, the gun fell and bounced or slid under that red Dodge Ram or the white Suburban. Not sure which." She rested her head against Price's shoulder. "My knife is somewhere in the same general vicinity as his gun. Price disarmed him when the bastard tried to knife me on the ground."

  "His knife slid under the Camaro," Price said, then he looked in her eyes. "Why didn't you kill him with your knife throw when he had the gun on you, threatened to kill you like he had Maisie?" He knew she had the skill. He'd seen her throw knives when she was fooling around with the hotshot trainees.

  "Didn't want to kill him." She sighed and looked i
nto his eyes. "He wasn't worth a piece of my soul."

  Fuck, she was a strong, amazing woman. He was damn sure he'd have shot the fucker under the same set of circumstances. Which just proved he needed this special woman in his life, to balance him out, to be a moral compass when he needed one. He just hoped to hell there was something about him that she needed in her life.

  "Damn straight, he's not." Price kissed her forehead, then looked at Ren. "We'll be inside."

  Walking toward the front entrance to the diner, Price checked Tara over the best he could under the parking lot lights.

  She had scratches and bruises on her face. Her pants were dirty and partially unzipped, but no tears or blood on her underwear. Thank fuck. The hand clutching his shirt was bruised and bloodied, and he bet the other one was, too. And she shivered constantly—adrenaline drop.

  "Hold on, firefly." He whispered against her ear.

  At his side, Keely jogged to keep up with his longer stride. When they arrived at the diner entrance, she tugged on his sleeve. "Price, I'll go get the First Aid kit out of our Hummer just in case we need it."

  He nodded. "Thanks. It could take the EMTs awhile to get here." The emergency services in this part of Idaho County were spread as thinly as the law enforcement.

  "I'll be in as soon as I can," Keely said. "Then I'll take the pictures Dan will need."

  "Roger that." Price nodded at Little Nick, who held the door open. "Your dad's office, now."

  Once he reached the hallway leading to the office, he set Tara on her feet so they could navigate the narrow passage. She winced and groaned. Her golden skin was ashy as she leaned gingerly against him and favored her right side.

  "Tara?" That's when Price spotted the blood staining her uniform shirt; it hadn't shown in the low lighting of the lot. "You're bleeding."

  "No. Tired. A-adren-naline dr-drop. D-dirty. C-cold." Her eyes closed, Tara moaned and tried to curl even closer into him.

  Thank God, the office door was right in front of them.

  "H-hurts." She sighed. "Musta been his knife."

  "I'll know more in a sec as soon as I lay you down." Price looked at Little Nick as they walked through the door into the office. "Clear off your dad's desk."

  One of the waitresses had followed them. He looked at her, "Get me a clean tablecloth to cover her with and some napkins. Oh and something to clean the desktop the best you can." The waitress nodded and hurried off.

  As Little Nick cleared off the surface, Price held Tara close as she trembled against him. The waitress was back quickly with a tablecloth, a spray bottle, towels, and napkins. She cleaned the surface and wiped it down with a towel.

  "Good enough." Price nodded. "Tara—" she hmmed "—I'm going put you on top of the desk. I need to check your wound. Let me do all the work."

  "'kay," Tara whispered.

  Price picked her up and then gently lowered her onto the surface. The waitress placed some folded-up towels under Tara's head and draped the tablecloth over her lower half. Once settled, Tara sighed and closed her eyes, but he could tell she was in pain by the tightness of her jaw and neck muscles.

  Since Keely hadn't arrived yet, he used his phone's camera and snapped pictures of her disheveled clothing, the bloody tear on her shirt, and her face and hands. Then he unbuttoned her uniform shirt and carefully pulled it away from her side and exposed the t-shirt underneath. He mentally cursed. The shirt was sodden with her blood. No wonder her complexion looked pale gray.

  He snapped some more pictures, then put his phone aside as Keely entered the room.

  "Fuck, sweetheart." He stroked a hand over the top of her shoulder. "You're hurt bad."

  "I am?" Tara tried to sit up and cried out.

  "No, no." Price halted her jerky movements. "Stay still, please. You might make the damage worse."

  "D-d-damage?" Tara whispered. "I'm damaged?" She sounded distressed.

  "You're perfect and never let anyone tell you different," Price pressed a kiss on her forehead.

  Keely inhaled as she noticed the bloody t-shirt. Muttering about frick-fracking pecker-headed douchebags under her breath, she opened the kit, ripped open packages of sterile gauze and handed them to Price.

  He lifted the t-shirt, covered the bloody area, and applied pressure. Tara whimpered and bit her lip. Her eyes closed tightly as every muscle in her body went taut.

  "Fuck, just fuck," Price muttered as he bent over her. "I need to stop the bleeding, firefly."

  "S'okay," she whispered, her voice strained.

  It wasn't the fuck okay.

  "Keely, can you cut her t-shirt? It's in the way and I need to see the wound."

  "Yep." Keely used the bandage scissors and cut the shirt off, stopping at just under Tara's breasts.

  After raising the bloody gauze and pulling the sodden t-shirt out of the way, Price cursed at the sight of the exposed wound. The gash was just above her waist and it bled every time she moved. He put the bloodied gauze back, then reapplied pressure. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gonna kill that fucker."

  "Píítaa…I'm fine." She raised a shaky, dirty, and seriously bruised and bloody hand and smoothed it over the side of his face.

  Price grasped her hand and kissed the back of it. "You're more than fine. You softened the bastard up so I could finish him off. Hope to hell you never get that mad at me, firefly." He gave her a small smile.

  "Never happen, píítaa."

  Price took even more gauze from Keely and pressed it over the top of the gauze already in place.

  Tara gasped as she arched off the table, then bit her lip. The pained whimper that escaped stabbed him in the heart.

  Price clenched his jaw. Tara could've been killed on Saturday—or tonight. He was done going slow and giving her space.

  Tara was his to protect. She just didn't realize it…yet. But she would.

  Chapter 5

  Later Monday evening, Sanctuary

  Upon arrival at Price's house, Fee—with the efficient assistance of Lacey Jones, a nurse and the wife of Quinn, SSI's third-in-command—cleaned Tara up, put her in one of Price's well-worn t-shirts, and tucked her into his bed.

  God, he still couldn't get the image out of his head of Tara, lying on Nick's desk, pale and bleeding. When his sister and Trey had arrived at Ma's, he'd been relieved.

  Thanking the EMTs, Fee had taken over Tara's care. She'd assessed the wound, recleaned it, put in stitches, and made the decision the IV fluids the EMTs had started were enough and that Tara didn't require a blood transfusion, thus eliminating the need for a trip to the ER in Grangeville. Then his baby sister showed how really smart she was and didn't argue with him when he'd insisted that Tara be brought to his house.

  "I'm heading back to the Lodge," Lacey said as she moved toward the master bedroom double-doors. "Call me if you need me for anything."

  As the door clicked shut behind Lacey, his sister looked at him. "Price—" Fee hesitated as if she were searching for the right words.

  "Go ahead—" He tucked the blankets up over Tara's shoulders, then felt her forehead. No fever, thank fuck. It was still a looming concern. The knife used to cut her had been filthy. He sat in the chair he'd placed by the side of the bed and looked over at his sister. "—ask the question you've been dying to ask ever since I demanded that Tara be brought here." He shifted his gaze back to the woman in his bed.

  "You think you're so smart." Fee sniffed.

  "Yep. I also know you." He'd practically raised her even though he was only a little over five years older than she was. "Thanks for backing me up at the diner, sis."

  "You're welcome." Fee sat on the edge of the bed. "Now, tell me…why did you bring Tara to your house?" She held up a hand when he opened his mouth, cutting him off. "No, don't give me the rationalization you were just about to spout. I understand not taking her to the hospital for an overnight observation. There's still a shooter at large and she's helpless at the moment. The hospital security totally sucks. But Trey and I would've been happy to
have her at our house." She looked pointedly in his direction. "Or she could've stayed at the Lodge. Both Lacey and I could've watched over Tara there."

  Price had to grin and parroted her words back to her. "You think you're so smart."

  "Yep. I know you as well as you know me." She looked him in the eyes, love and concern there for him to see. "Give me the truth, Price."

  "Plain and simple? I wanted her here." His gaze dared her to disagree before he turned to take in Tara lying so still in his bed. "Okay?"

  "What if Tara isn't comfortable being here?" she asked. "I wasn't aware you two were even dating, let alone ready to move in together. Or did I miss something over the last month?"

  "No, you didn't miss anything. We've spent a lot of time together, but we weren't dating." He blew out a frustrated breath. How to explain the epiphany he had in Ma's parking lot? "I wanted her where I could protect her and take care of her."

  "Price, you could've done that at my house or at the Lodge," Fee said in a gentle tone. "No one would've kicked you out. What's going on in your head, big brother?"

  He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I should've talked to her on Saturday—"

  "After you risked your ass to cover hers?" Fee's tone was accusatory and held more than a bit of lingering fear. "You could've been killed. Trey told me all about it."

  Trey and he would be having a talk about scaring Fee with after-the-fact incident reports.

  "Yeah, then." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, then angled his head and looked at his baby sister. "I just reacted, okay? Tara was in danger, Fee, and she's my forever woman." He ignored her gasp and kept talking, "For weeks, I'd been screwing around about asking her out, because I'd gotten the impression—well, never mind what I thought. The reality is—Tara was shot at. She could've been killed, and I'd never even tried to make the connection with her. Then tonight—"

  "She could've been killed yet again." His sister's expression and voice were sympathetic. "So, you brought her here, because you care about her and you're a protector. Because your observations and instinct told you she'd been ill-treated by a man in the past and because you hadn't protected me when you think you should've, you'll protect her."