Chapter Thirteen

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Jemma walked into the inn and faced, well, the worried faces. Her father, Owen, Molly, Declan, Aiden, and Reed. All were studying her to see if she was all right.

She wasn’t.

Her head was throbbing, her ears were aching, and there was still a sharp burning pain where the bullet had hit the Kevlar vest right on her collarbone. There was also the exhaustion that came with the adrenaline crash from hell.

But none of those symptoms was serious.

She was alive and ready for duty. More or less. She wouldn’t mention the less part and would lie if anyone asked how she was. No one did though, perhaps because they knew she wouldn’t tell them the truth.

Her father was the first to step forward from the others, and he reached for her as if about to pull her into a hug. He seemed to change his mind at the last moment, no doubt because he had no idea where she was hurting, and he didn’t want to add to her pain.

So, Jemma hugged him.

Gently. Very gently. And she kept the embrace short. She eased back to give him that lie about her being fine, but her father moved on to Hayes, who was right by her side.

“Thank you for getting her out of the line of fire,” her father said.

It didn’t surprise her that he, and everyone else in the reception area, knew what’d happened to her—and what Hayes had done. While the EMTs had loaded Jemma into an ambulance, Aiden had called Owen to fill him in on the attack. Word of the shooting must have gotten back to her father since he’d tried to contact her several times while she was being treated, and when his calls and texts had finally stopped, she had assumed that Owen had let Stefano know what was going on.

And what was going on was the aftermath of a full-blown shitshow.

One with an eighteen-year-old shooter now dead. A shooter that just the day before had chatted with Hayes and her when they’d visited Duane’s school.

Zander Emerson.

Jemma hadn’t actually seen the young man, but he’d been positively IDed first by his fingerprints that’d been on file from an underage drinking charge only three months earlier in San Antonio. Then, there had been a second ID from his parents while Jemma had still been at the hospital being examined. So, they were certain this was Zander Emerson, but they had no answers as to why he’d fired those shots.

Apparently though, Hayes was ready to get some of those answers.

“Any word from Duane yet on why his student tried to murder Jemma?” Hayes asked Owen. “The sonofabitch tried to shoot Jemma in the neck, and he came damn close to succeeding.”

Owen sighed and shook his head. “Duane’s in the interview room, but he won’t say anything until his lawyer gets here.”

Hayes moved, heading toward the interview room, but Owen stepped in front of him. “You’re not interrogating him. Not with that kick-his-ass expression. You’ll end up trying to beat the answers out of him.”

“I want to know if he put that kid up to shooting Jemma,” Hayes snarled through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, I got that. All of us want to know that, but I’ll be the one questioning Duane. Trust me, I’ll pass along anything he says, and if I think he’s withholding a single word of information, I’ll arrest him for obstruction of justice.”

There was some kick-ass fire in Owen’s eyes, too. Heck, that applied to everyone else in reception. Clearly, Zander had pissed off a lot of people with what he’d tried to do.

“Does anyone have any idea whatsoever as to why Zander did this?” Jemma muttered, and her tone definitely wasn’t kick ass. Not with this godawful pain in too many parts of her body.

The response came from Reed. “Zander was friends with Caleb Preston, the student who died in police custody. They’d been best pals since first grade.”

And there it was. A powerful motive for shooting a cop that he might blame for his friend’s death.

“Did Zander kill…well, all the others?” she pressed.

“Not sure,” Reed replied. “Obviously, we have CSIs going through his things now, and Angel and Presley are at the school questioning the other students.”

“Is there a connection between Zander and the other dead gunman who worked for Brooks?” her father wanted to know.

Reed shook his head. “None that I’ve found yet, but I’ll keep looking.”

“We have a visitor,” someone called out from the parking lot. Jemma didn’t recognize the voice, but she’d noticed that Owen now had several more Strike Force operatives on a protection detail to stop another sniper from getting close to the inn. “She’s not armed,” the person added a moment later.

Jemma glanced at the door, assuming this would be Duane’s lawyer. It wasn’t. Cordelia walked in, giving Jemma a jolt of both relief and shock.

Judging from her stepmother’s expression, she was experiencing some shock, too, over the crowd of people, including her husband, who was now staring at her.

“Where the hell have you been?” her father was quick to ask.

A hoarse sob tore from Cordelia’s mouth, and she practically fell into Stefano’s arms. Her father didn’t look especially pleased with the forced embrace, but he also didn’t push Cordelia away. In fact, Jemma heard his sigh of relief.

“It is true?” Cordelia asked, her voice as choppy and broken as her breath. “Is Brooks really dead?”

“He’s dead,” Stefano told her.

Cordelia burst into tears, probably not her first of the day since her eyes were already red and lacking her usual applications of makeup.

“Who killed him?” Cordelia asked through her sobs. “Who would do this to my son?”

“We don’t know yet,” Owen responded. “But we do need to ask you some questions so you can help us with the investigation to find his killer.”

Until he added that last part, Cordelia seemed ready to protest, but she gave a shaky nod and buried her face against Stefano’s neck.

“I’ll need a full statement from you,” Owen went on, “but for now, can you tell us why you disappeared. And where have you been?”

Both crucial questions to establishing a possible motive and alibi for her son’s murder. After all, it seemed likely that Brooks had known his killer, and he would have lowered his car window if he’d seen his mother approaching. Still, Jemma couldn’t see a motive for Cordelia to do that.

However, Cordelia provided one.

The woman looked up at Stefano. “I left because I was upset, because I couldn’t face you. Or you,” Cordelia added, looking at Jemma. “Brooks confessed to me that he’d given your mother that lethal overdose of the pain meds.”

“Oh, God,” Jemma muttered. Her legs started to buckle, but Hayes slipped his arm around her and kept her on her feet.

“I didn’t know Brooks was going to do it,” Cordelia went on. “I swear, I didn’t know. She was dying. There was no need to hurry it along.”

“No, there wasn’t,” Stefano said.

Jemma heard the dark, dangerous edge in his voice. He was the Rattler now, and she figured if Brooks weren’t already dead, her father would have gone after him then and there.

“When and why did Brooks confess this to you?” Jemma managed to ask.

“Yesterday, right before I left. He came to my office and just blurted it out.” She began to sob again. “I didn’t know he’d done it,” she added, turning back to Stefano.

Her father didn’t push Cordelia away. “What happened to make him tell you something like that?” he asked. “You must have been discussing it for him to have brought it up.”

“We weren’t,” Cordelia insisted. But then she stopped. “Brooks had heard something and he wanted to ask me about it.” She swallowed hard. “He’d heard about a relationship that I’d had with Duane. It happened before you and I were married,” Cordelia was quick to say to Stefano.

Her father certainly didn’t seem shocked by the revelation of the affair. Then again, the Rattler mode gave him the ultimate poker face. “Who’d told Brooks about the affair?” Stefano asked.

Cordelia opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to ask him. Brooks confronted me about it, and I admitted that there had been a relationship with Duane but that it was long over. Then, I said I probably should have told him so he wouldn’t be blindsided if he heard gossip about it. That’s when he mentioned something about coming clean and confessed to killing your wife.” Her voice cracked. “God, Stefano, I’m so sorry.”

Her father merely patted the woman’s back and eased her closer to him. But Jemma saw something in her father’s eyes as their gazes met.

Doubt maybe?

Had Cordelia actually been the one to kill Jemma’s mother and had she been worried that Brooks was going to unveil her secret? It was possible, and it might be something Owen could get Cordelia to confess to during interrogation.

“We got another visitor,” someone outside yelled. “It’s Duane’s lawyer, and he’s not armed. He’s coming in now.”

Seconds later, a tall, distinguished-looking man in a pricey suit came through the door, prompting Owen to turn to them. “Reed, take Mrs. Salvetti to the second interview room. You can stay with her for now,” he added to Jemma’s father.

Stefano nodded and gave Jemma a kiss on the cheek before he headed down the hall with Cordelia and Reed.

“Declan, you can take the lawyer to interview room one so he can speak to his client,” Owen instructed. “I’ll be in shortly.”

Owen waited until Declan and the attorney had left before he glanced at Molly and Aiden. “Dig deep on this affair Cordelia had with Duane. I want the start and end dates before I question her. Also, access Brooks’ phone records to see who might have called and told him about the affair. I’m betting it was Royce since I saw in the notes that he brought it up during the interview. But I could be wrong. Someone else could have told him.”

Molly and Aiden muttered agreements and went back into the dining/operation’s room.

Owen then turned to Jemma. “Here’s a quick update on Hailey’s body. She died from blunt force trauma to the head. There are no apparent defensive injuries, but her remains and clothes are being tested for possible DNA or trace evidence.”

Maybe the killer had left something of himself or herself behind. Something that could be used to make an arrest. Though that was a long shot, considering how long the body had been in the ground.

“Now, I want you to take those pain meds that the ER doctor prescribed,” Owen went on. He handed her a small bag with the pill bottle inside. “Shaw picked them up from the pharmacy, and I know from experience they can cause drowsiness. Take them anyway since you’re not going to be able to think straight with your head throbbing.”

He was probably right about the thinking straight part, but Jemma wanted to continue working the investigation.

“FYI, taking the meds is an order,” Owen added, his tone and expression adamant, and he shifted his attention to Hayes. “Help Jemma to her room and stay with her until you hear from me.”

Hayes nodded, took the meds from her and was already opening the bottle as they made their way up the stairs.

“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she grumbled, but it was really a token objection. She didn’t want it, but she knew she wouldn’t have a choice once she took the meds. Plus, her body was screaming for just a little downtime.

As ordered, Hayes got her to her room, and he immediately went to the bathroom to get some water. When he came back, he handed her both the glass and two capsules. Jemma sighed first before she took them.

“Boots off,” Hayes muttered, removing them for her, and then he looked at her uniform top. “I know for a fact you don’t have a t-shirt under there.”

Yes, he’d gotten firsthand knowledge of that when the EMTs had unbuttoned her shirt to examine the bruise and burn mark caused by the bullet.

“You should put on something loose so it doesn’t rub the wound,” Hayes advised.

She considered the clothing items that one of the operatives had collected from her house, and she shook her head. “I don’t have anything loose.” In fact, the one pair of PJs that’d been brought over were the snug-fit kind.

He set her boots aside and went into his room. Several moments later, he came back with one of his black tees. Despite everything she had to smile since the t-shirt would definitely be roomy on her.

She began to unbutton her uniform, and Hayes being Hayes turned away to give her some privacy. Jemma managed to get off her top. Not easily because of her knotted muscles and the pain that came with every movement. But as predicted, she had no trouble slipping on his shirt.

Sadly, it didn’t smell like him. She would have liked that. But instead it had the scent of fresh laundry detergent. However, her disappointment came to a quick halt when Hayes had her lie back on the bed, and he eased onto the mattress right beside her.

Yes, no disappointment about that.

“We finally end up in bed together, and nothing’s probably going to happen. Probably ?” she repeated like a question.

“Nothing’s happening other than you’re going to get some rest,” he assured her, but he brushed a kiss on the top of her head.

That kiss gave her hope that there could be more. Much more. And she turned her head to look up at him.

Just as he looked down at her.

She didn’t see what she wanted in his eyes. No heat. But she thought she saw plenty of regret.

Jemma was dead sure he was mentally beating himself up because she’d gotten injured. But she knew it could have been a hell of a lot worse. One inch higher, and the bullet would have gone into neck, and she’d be dead.

Before he could voice that regret, Jemma lifted herself up so she could kiss him. Not a reassuring peck on the head but something long and deep. Something she could sink right into.

Something to put some heat in his eyes.

Hayes didn’t pull back. Didn’t stop her. In fact, he did some deepening of his own, and along with being able to enjoy his scent, she got to savor his incredible taste.

She adjusted her body, moving closer to him. Or rather trying. But now he did stop, and he looked down at her with something else in his eyes.

A whole lot of need for her.

Need that he was obviously going to put on hold.

“Rest,” he muttered, tucking her head against his shoulder.

Jemma wanted to protest that, wanted to keep on kissing him. Heck, she wanted to have sex with him.

But her body had a different notion about this.

She could already feel the fog creeping into her head. It was lessening the pain but causing the predicted drowsiness. Jemma had no choice but to just go with it. She closed her eyes and let the meds claim her.

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