Page 16 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

Inside the shop, people clustered around the destroyed door babbling and gesturing wildly, while multiple sirens of police, fire, and ambulance vehicles came closer.

Smitty’s hands threaded through her hair and his hand came away streaked with blood. “Looks like you got nicked by some of the glass.”

“What thefuckhappened?” She glanced down at herself. Glass was everywhere. Blood too. “Where did all this blood come from? Was I hit?”

“I can’t find a bullet wound,” Smitty said, his hands still combing out glass from her hair. “But you’ve got some lacerations.”

“Well...” She stared at him. His mouth was pulled down and his eyes had worry wrinkles around them. “Shit.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah.”

The smile disappeared as soon as she put her hands on the cement and attempted to push herself up.

“No, no. Stay down there until you’ve been properly assessed, and all this glass is off you. Any pain?”

“Yeah, mostly a dull throb behind my eyes and my shoulder.”

“Okay,” he glanced at the window. “Did you see anyone?”

“No. The street was empty. I was just about to go inside to get a mocha when—” The world spun and her stomach lurched. “Smitty? I think I’m going to be sick.”

He winced. “I’m not surprised.” He helped her to roll over to lie on her side and the nausea subsided a little.

Several booted feet approached and surrounded her. The last time she’d seen boots like these had been when she’d been in uniform. For a moment her vocal cords seized up and she was back in the wreckage of a dead transport truck. She took a breath and realized she couldn’t smell smoke or dead bodies. It was enough to jerk her brain back across thousands of miles of desert and ocean to Montana. She cleared her throat. “Has Bandit Creek been invaded?”

It took Smitty a second to respond. “No.” He said it so carefully she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth.

“Army or Marines?”

“Fire Department,” he replied in the same careful tone.

“Something’s on fire?”

“No.”

She was going to throttle him if he didn’t start giving her more information. “What’s wrong?”

A new voice answered. “Someone tried to shoot you.”

She forced her head up so she could study the Sheriff’s face.

He was staring at the shattered glass door as if it were a crystal ball and held all the answers to every question he’d ever asked. “Big Joe, he owns the café, found a bullet hole in the wall behind the cash register. We’re digging it out now, but he says it’s not the sort of calibre any of the hunters around here use.”

“Too small, too big, what?” Smitty asked.

“Too big.” Sheriff Johnson nodded at Abby. “Were you just about to go inside?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Well, I crossed the street to see what kind of trouble Smitty had gotten into. I was about to enter the coffee shop when I saw a penny on the ground. It’s good luck, you know, so I reached down for it. The next thing I know I’m on the ground wondering how I got there.”

“I’m no crime scene expert,” The Sheriff said. “But it looks to me like that penny saved your life. If you had been standing, that bullet probably would have hit the back of your head.”

“Someone shot at me?” She sat up. “InBandit Creek. I don’t believe it.”

Smitty pushed her back down. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve been looked at by the paramedics.”

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