Page 63 of The Captive
She tried to peer around Deacon again.“Don’t move,” he ordered into her ear.“Stay down until it’s over.”
Another gunshot cracked in the air, followed by a second one.
Fear jammed in her chest.With a sudden jolt of strength, she shoved Deacon’s arm off and rolled to the side, lifting her head just in time to see Le Clair tumble face-firstto the pavement.A red stain bloomed on the back of his shirt.Relief crashed into her.Le Clair had been shot.Not her dad.Not—a crushing weight of horror nearly knocked the wind right out of her.
Her father’s motionless body lay on the gravel.
Nausea rose up her throat.“Dad!”
She heard Deacon’s rough protest.Ignored him.Stumbled to her feet.
Waves of dizziness rolled through her as she hurried to her father.Voices shouted at her, people moved in and out of her peripheral vision.She ignored all that, too.She had one goal.One destination.
She froze when she spotted the blood pooling at her father’s temple.
He’d been shot in the head.
“No,” she whispered.
Her knees turned to jelly and her legs started to give out.Sirens wailed in the distance.Lights flashed from the road as a whiz of emergency vehicles raced toward them.But she couldn’t rip her gaze away from that puddle of blood.Her father’s face was pale.So pale.He was… She couldn’t…couldn’t get to him.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes, a dizzy rush made her body sway, and then a pair of strong warm arms wrapped around her from behind.
“It’s all right,” a familiar voice murmured.“You’re safe, baby girl.I’ve got you.”
She lifted her head, met her brother’s concerned dark eyes and began to sob.“Jim!Oh, God, Jim, Daddy was hit!”
“It’s okay,” he soothed, stroking her hair.“They’re going to take care of him.”
Lana suddenly registered the sound of urgent voices and hurried footsteps.She turned in time to see a pair ofparamedics bending over her father’s body.A third rolled a stretcher over.
“We’ve got a pulse,” she heard one of them say, triumphant.
Relief shuddered through her.He was alive.Her father was alive.
Burying her face against her brother’s chest, she continued to cry softly.Jim just held her, touching her hair, whispering, “It’s okay,” over and over again.Her tears stained the front of his shirt, her cold hands, still in restraints, clung to his neck.A myriad of emotions swirled inside her.She’d almost lost her dad.Almost lost her own life.Her baby’s life.
The baby.
Deacon!
She jerked out of Jim’s arms, her gaze darting anxiously around the crowded area.Where was he?He wasn’t by the van, where he’d shielded her from harm.Her head swiveled, eyes searched, heart thumped wildly.
And then she saw him.Two federal agents were shoving him into a black car.A flash of silver caught her eye.Handcuffs.Deacon was being arrested.
Ignoring Jim’s shocked expression, she staggered forward, trying to get to Deacon, but he was already inside the car.Doors slammed.An engine roared to life.
“No!”she shouted when the taillights blinked and the car began to move.
Jim’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.“What the hell are you doing?”he demanded.
The car sped past them.Lana caught a glimpse of Deacon’s face in the back window.He looked stoic, sad, and then she could no longer see him.
She spun around to face her brother.“You can’t let them arrest him!”
Jim frowned.“Who?”
“Deacon Holt.He saved me.”Her voice held a note of urgency.“They have to let him go, Jim!I’d be dead if it weren’t for him.”
