Page 18 of Trapped with the Covert Ops Soldier

“In town?” The sheriff’s tone was incredulous.

“Well, what’s your explanation?”

He paused, then said with pinched lips. “I don’t have one.”

“Doc, there’s a couple of minor lacerations on your scalp, but nothing you need stitches for,” Mike said. “I think I’ve got all the glass out of your hair, but you might want to have a shower.”

“She lost consciousness for a few seconds, what caused that?” Smitty was back, her purse in his left hand.

“What did you do, run there and back?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Yeah. So, loss of consciousness?”

“I was only out a second or two. It was probably the shock of such a loud noise right next to my head.” She held out her hand. “Help me up.”

He looked at it but didn’t make any move to assist. “Are you sure you should be getting on your feet?”

Over-protective much? “I was planning on leaning on you.”

“Oh.” He grabbed her hand and helped her to stand. “That’s all right then.”

The world spun, her vision spiralled down to one spot, and her hearing narrowed to a single wavelength.

“Easy,” Smitty said from a great distance. “Breathe deep.”

After a couple of seconds, the world got bigger again. She discovered she was sitting on the ground with her head between her knees. “Great, I passed out, didn’t I?”

“Not completely.” Smitty’s voice was a low, reassuring rumble next to her ear.

She glanced up. He crouched in front of her, his knees outside hers, his hands rubbing up and down her back and shoulders.

It felt way too comforting. Way too good. She could get used to having him around, taking charge, and looking after her. But then she’d be lost when he left.

And he would leave.

Her stomach rolled at the thought of letting her guard down and relying on him, only for him to disappear out of her life like he did three months ago.

No phone call, no text, no nothing.

“I’m in shock. I should go home, rest, shower and eat.”

“Now that is a plan I can get behind.”

She moved to rise, but his hands held her down. “Stay right where you are, doc. I’m going to get my Jeep.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay. I’m sure if I try to get up the Sheriff or Mike will sit on me until you get back.”

“They better not lay a hand on you.” He stomped off.

Abby watched him until he disappeared from view behind the crowd of people milling around outside the police tape.

“What’s going on?” a grumpy male voice asked.

Abby’s gaze focused on the questioner, an old-timer whose hobby was complaining about how government interfered with everything.

“Someone took a shot at me, Virgil,” she said to him.

He grunted. “They missed.” He stared at her. “Obviously. When can I go in and get my coffee?”

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