Page 79 of Protecting Her Secrets

I don’t press her for more details. There’s a reason she’s being vague, and as someone who has spent the last many years keeping people at a distance to hide my secrets, I get it. Not that I can say she’s in the same situation; I just get that vibe.

“Oh, cool,” I say.

“If you need anything, let me know.” She turns and walks away.

“There’s a story there,” Jazzy says.

“Yeah, I agree.” I lift my brows. “She’s really pretty.”

“She is.” Her tone has a suspicious lilt.

“I’m just saying. If you want to know her story, maybe ask her to lunch.”

She watches Minty as she folds sweaters in the men’s section. “Maybe.”

“And if something else happens, then so be it.” I smirk.

“You’re trouble.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Walker

After one painfulhour at the mercantile and two at Louise’s because the old lady wouldn’t shut up, we’re finally done shopping. I’m walking behind Jazzy and Skylar, my hands full of bags, which isn’t a bad place to be. I zero in on my woman’s ass hugged perfectly by her jeans. While the girls were shopping, I veered down to the sex shop and bought a little bling for the ass in question. Fuck, I can’t wait until tonight.

I’m so distracted by imagining how cute her little asshole will be with a plug in it that I somehow miss the distant rumbling of a motorcycle. Skylar is deep into a conversation about flare or straight-leg pants and misses it too. Before I have time to get her off the sidewalk, two bikers speed toward us. It’s hard to identify either of them as Klutch, since they have helmets on their heads and bandanas pulled up over their noses, only exposing their narrowed eyes.

The one in front reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun. Suddenly, my feet feel like they’re moving through mud, and I can’t get words of warning out fast enough. I need to movefaster, damn it, but I was too far away and too distracted. I see the biker take aim and hear the loud crack of the gun going off twice in rapid succession.

Jazzy tackles Skylar, and they both go down. People on the street shout and duck for cover as I kneel next to the two women. I need to make sure they’re okay, but I also take a quick glance at the quickly retreating bikers, wanting proof it was the Broken Rebels. Unfortunately, they aren’t wearing their cuts, and their license plates have been covered.

There’s a pool of blood on the sidewalk, staining the shoveled snow they fell on, and I panic. I’m trained for emergencies, and I’ve helped multiple people who were injured while out on the mountain, but nothing could prepare me for the sight of my bleeding, unconscious wife.

“Jazzy, it’s safe now. You can get up.” I tap her on the shoulder, but she doesn’t move. “Jazzy, you need to move. Skylar needs my help.”

I roll her off, and that’s when I notice Skylar isn’t the only unconscious one. There’s so much blood covering both of them, I don’t know who was hit. Maybe both of them.

“Oh, fuck. What do I do?” I ask no one. This is an overwhelming situation for anyone, but especially me when it involves my pregnant wife.

Taking a calming breath, I remind myself I’m trained for emergencies. It’s not the first time I’ve been involved in a rescue of a victim with a gunshot wound, so I need to calm the fuck down and do what needs to be done to save both of them.

I place two fingers on Jazzy’s wrist, and I’m uncomfortable with how long it takes me to feel her faint pulse. Next, I do the same to Skylar, relieved to find her heart beating normally. Even though everything in me wants to treat Skylar first, my training takes over, and I search Jazzy’s body to find where the blood is coming from.

Ryker, the owner of the mercantile, suddenly sinks to his knees next to me. “What are we looking at?”

Lifting Jazzy’s shirt, I find a gunshot wound to her abdomen. “Fuck. We need to slow down the bleeding before it’s too late.”

“I got this. You take care of Skylar,” he says, stripping off his flannel and pushing it to Jazzy’s abdomen.

The front of Skylar’s shirt is saturated with blood, but it’s not hers. The blood coming from her is underneath her head. Even though I know she has a pulse, I’m terrified I’m going to find a gunshot wound she won’t come back from.

Sirens sound in the distance, and I know I need to figure this out before they get here and push me away. I need to see what we’re dealing with for myself. Rolling her onto her side, I find a wound, but it’s not from a gunshot. When Jazzy tackled her, Skylar must’ve hit her head on a rock. I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but until she wakes up, I won’t truly know she’s okay.

Culver Springs’ only ambulance and Wilder’s patrol car come screeching to a stop. There’s a crowd around us now, but I pay no mind to any of them. The only thing that matters is the two women on the ground. I bend over and whisper into Jazzy’s ear, “Don’t you dare die. I need to be able to thank you for saving Skylar’s life.” Then, I place a kiss on Skylar’s forehead.

“Give me some room,” Davis, the town’s volunteer firefighter and paramedic, pushes through the throng of people, followed by Wilder. “You guys did good, but let me take over.”

“I got her. Don’t worry.” Wilder pats my arm and moves in to help Davis.

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