Page 29 of The Cowboy Texas Ranger's Very Special Agent

He led Vic over as the EMTs got out. One of the first response team came out and beckoned to one of the EMTs, who followed him into the house. The other one led Vic to the back of the vehicle and opened the doors. He took the gurney out and had her sit down on the back of the ambulance. He began asking her questions and, after a moment, said, “Can you get up inside?”

Cal took her arm. “I’ll help.”

Soon she was sitting on the bench and the EMT was checking her eyes.

Cal asked, “Does it look like she has a concussion?”

After a moment, the EMT said, “Her pupils are reacting normally, but after the beating she took, she should get checked out.”

“How far away is the nearest hospital?” Cal asked.

“About forty-five minutes. But I strongly recommend that she goes. She could have facial fractures or dental damage.”

“I’m fine,” Vic said.

Cal said, “You’re not fine. We’re going there first before we do anything else. Your health is top priority, no matter what.”

He moved away from the vehicle and checked his clip. Four bullets left. He replaced it. “I’m going inside, Vic. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

In the house, he found that the other EMT was ministering to a cartel member with a bullet wound to the chest. Two FBI agents were in the living room rifling through things on the shelves. The other tactical personnel were going through the house, and there was a growing pile of guns and ammo on the dining room table. Cal counted Hector and four cartel members down, including the injured one.

He went back outside and found the EMT cleaning Vic’s facial wounds. The man glanced at Cal. “I just heard that we’re going to be transporting a prisoner to the hospital. Do you want to take Vic in yourself? She’s fine to ride with you.”

“Yes.” Vic answered before he could.

Cal smiled. “Sure. Is she ready?”

“Just give me another minute or two, and she will be.”

Ten minutes later, Cal drove Vic away from the safe house. He glanced at her. “How you feeling, kiddo?”

“Like shit, but I’m glad to get out of there.” She looked at him. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I know what a concussion feels like, and I don’t have one.”

“Better safe than sorry. You took quite a beating. You need to get checked out all over, Vic. We’re going.”

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Fine.” Then she reached for his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m an ungrateful wretch. Thanks for coming and for taking care of me, Cal.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Now, we both need to call our bosses and make sure that they launch an investigation into this mole business.” He handed her his phone so that she could call first. The cartel had found hers when they’d tied her up and had smashed it. A couple of minutes later, she handed the phone back to him. “Done, as you heard. I just hope they don’t find it was us. That’d be horrible.”

Cal made the call to his captain and was soon satisfied that the investigation was already underway. Then he turned his phone off.

At the hospital, the emergency physician ordered CT scans of Vic’s head and abdomen, which Cal was glad of. He was desperate to make sure that she was okay.

The team also did a much better job of cleaning up Vic’s face, and the doctor put a stitch in her lip.

Vic was finally released six hours later, armed with two ice packs, one for each side of her swollen face, and a prescription for painkillers. The doctor had diagnosed a slight concussion and had encouraged her to get plenty of rest and to avoid physical activity for the next couple of weeks.

As Cal helped her up into the truck, he said, “I’ve got a plan, and we’re not telling anyone where we are. Not even our bosses.”

Her brows rose. “We’re not?”

“Hell no. We need to find the mole first.” He climbed in and drove through town, looking for the Walmart he’d asked about. Once there, Vic rested in the air-conditioned truck while Cal got them each a change of clothes and filled her prescription.

Two hours later, they were headed north. But they wouldn’t be staying on the interstate. Instead, they’d take the back roads. While he’d been waiting for the FBI, Cal had called his friend Brett with the U. S. Marshals Service. Brett had agreed that he would meet them in El Paso and that he’d take them to a house where they could stay until the threat of the mole had passed. One thing was sure: the cartel would want to know what Hector had told them.

Despite their efforts, the thugs hadn’t gotten anything out of Vic. Hector had told them about the tunnels and safe houses and had even shared the whereabouts of his lieutenant. And who knew what else Hector hadn’t shared with them? The cartel couldn’t risk not knowing if all that information was out.

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