Page 21 of Shadow Games

Rowan hopped out of the truck and went looking for the first aid kit. It was in the back, exactly as he'd said. Circling the truck, she went to the passenger side door and opened it. Wyatt had managed to get the shirt off as well. She gaped for a minute at his nakedness. Then jerked her attention to the blood rolling down his shoulder. She set the first aid kit on his lap and flipped it open.

“I don't like blood, Wyatt.”

There was a bottle of saline wash inside the box. Pulling it out, she ripped off the lid and doused his shoulder with solution. The cut was on the outside edge of his Deltoid muscle. He was right. It wasn't really deep, but it was bleeding a lot. Ripping open a couple of four-by-four pads, she plastered them to the wound, holding pressure on it. Wyatt grunted with pain.

“Okay, that's not nice.”

Rowan grinned. “Well, you shouldn't have gotten shot then.”

“It's not like I planned it,” he grumbled. “That guy came out of nowhere.”

Rowan rolled her eyes. “Great Navy SEAL you are.”

Wyatt looked affronted, even as he laughed. “Hey, now in my defense, it's been a while since I was a SEAL.”

Rowan shook her head. After a few minutes, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. When she peeled the bandages back a little bit, it was still seeping blood, but it wasn’t pouring blood the same way. Fitting fresh bandages over the wound, she began wrapping his arm with gauze, looping down through his armpit. Then she tied the knot directly over the cut, for extra pressure.

“Ouch. Damn it.”

She gave him a look. “I told you I wasn't a nurse.”

“That's a really good thing actually. And I'm talking about for the public.”

Rowan gave him an affronted look and smacked him on the chest. “Be quiet, you. I just saved your life.”

Wyatt caught her hand and curled it up into a fist. He kissed her knuckles. “Yes, you did. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Rowan blushed. “No problem.” She glanced around, making sure they hadn't drawn attention. Her gaze snapped back to something. “I think I also just figured out his note. Give me that paper.”

Wyatt fished around in his pants pocket with his good hand and pulled it out. She took it from him, nodding.

“Okay, you sit here for a minute and I'll be back.”

“Hold on just a minute. Where are you going?”

“I'm literally going across the street. You wait here. You might think about finding a shirt to put on.” She waved her hand at his nakedness. “Anyway, I'll be back.”

Rowan walked through the auto lot and to the far corner. Then, looking for traffic, she jogged across the street. Making sure she didn't have any blood on her, she went up the steps and into the post office.

When she saw the post office boxes, she could have squealed. But she refrained. They were old-time dials, because this was an old-time kind of town. She looked at the paper and then the boxes. Box 703. And the combination is 863. She opened the door at the first turn of the dial. Inside the post office box was a priority mail shipping box. She pulled it out and looked at it. It was completely sealed. Tucking the box under her arm, she slammed the door shut and left the post office, retracing her steps.

Wyatt was standing at the back of the car with the hatch open, digging through his bag. He lifted a brow at her, and she showed him the box.

“Hot damn girl,” he laughed. “Good job. Let me get a shirt on and we’ll see what all the fuss is about.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she set the box on the console, waiting for Wyatt to join her. She was dying to see what was inside it. It had to be the logbook. Wyatt climbed into the passenger side and reached for the box.

“Well. It doesn't look boobytrapped or anything.”

He popped the thumb under the adhesive flap. It stuck a little, but he ripped it open. Then he reached inside the box. Something was wrapped in newspaper. He pulled it open. “What the fuck?”

With one finger, he lifted the heavy gold necklace out of the newspaper clippings. There was a wide green stone hanging at the bottom of the necklace. He looked at Rowan.

Her mouth was hanging open, and she looked incredulous. “I was not expecting to see that. Is it an emerald?” She blinked. Then took the box from him. “No logbook.”

He shook his head. “No logbook,” he agreed. “What the hell?” He sat back in his seat, his mind racing.

“I don't understand.”

---