Page 63 of Countdown

“And the woman you were with?”

“Raina Price. She’s okay too, thanks.” He hoped. She was in the room next to him and he was about to go check on her.

“Glad to hear it. I tracked down John Tate. He’s going to be calling you in a couple of hours.”

“That’s great. Thanks. And what about Freddy Harper? How did he get away from the tail?”

“He didn’t. He went straight to the airport, hopped a private plane, and took off. Flight itinerary said he was landing at a private airfield near Burbank.”

“So, there’s no way it was him shooting at us,” he murmured.

“No, wasn’t him.”

“Then who was it?”

“Good question. Authorities are investigating, of course, but if you have any thoughts, now’s the time to give them.”

“I don’t, but I’ll ... think.”

“I’ll let you go. Keep me updated. Charlie and Fiona are on Fedorov, so you use your medical leave to recover.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll do that.”

Just as he hung up, a knock on the door jerked his gaze up to see Raina enter. “I was just getting ready to come find you,” he said. She wore scrubs—long pants and sleeves—and hospital socks on her feet. Her hair was dry and hung down her shoulders in waves. He found himself wanting to run his hands through it and, instead, clasped his fingers together and resisted.

“I was with the officers giving my statement,” she said. “I was fine.”

He nodded to the clothing. “You didn’t have anything at base?”

“I didn’t want to take the time to go up there.” She chewed on the side of her cheek and Vince recognized that as a sign she was thinking.

“Spill it,” he said.

She raised her brows and tucked her hands into the pockets of the shirt. “Sorry?”

“You’re thinking.”

“Oh. Yes. I am.”

“About?”

“Freddy Harper.”

“What about him?”

“His nose wasn’t bruised.”

It was his turn to raise his brows. “Was it supposed to be?”

“If he’d been the guy in my house, it should have been. I got in a good hit. I mean, I guess it’s possible it wasn’t as solid a hit as I thought it was, but...” She shrugged.

“So you’ve got two people after you?”

“I don’t know. I was convinced Kevin sent him, but now ... I don’t know. What if Harper’s telling the truth and he didn’t have anything to do with coming after me?” She walked over to sit in the chair next to the bed. He’d rather her sit on the mattress next to him but shelved the thought as soon as it popped in his head.

“I think he is. Telling the truth, I mean.” He told her about the conversation with his supervisor. “It wasn’t Freddy shooting at us.”

She blinked and paled a shade. “Then who was it?”

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