30. Kristina

30

KRISTINA

We all worked as a team to get Garrett’s dad loaded into the pickup. Then we tore out of the ranch and off towards the nearest hospital. Emerik and I were frantically trying to stop the bleeding, pressing wads of torn-up shirt against the wound, but they kept soaking through.

When we screeched up outside the emergency room, Garrett took his dad’s shoulders and the guards took a leg each. We carried him in like that, with Caroline and me running alongside and pressing on the wound. Doctors surrounded us and helped us lower him onto a gurney, then raced him into a trauma bay.

“Outside!” snapped a doctor. “Let us work!”

Garrett, Caroline and the guards moved reluctantly away. I went to step away too, but suddenly a hand gripped my wrist. I looked down. Garrett’s dad had opened his eyes. He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness since we got him in the pickup but just for a few seconds, he seemed lucid.

“He’s a big lunk,” he croaked, staring up at me. “But he’s got a good heart. He just needs something to fight for.”

I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks.

The doctors put a mask over his face and his eyes closed.

I walked into the hallway just in time to see Garrett slam his fist against the wall. His whole body had gone hard, every muscle taut with helpless fury. A nurse arrived to dress the wound on his leg and managed to coax him into a chair, but he barely seemed to know she was there. He just sat in silence as she worked, the anger and guilt rolling off him like a physical force, pushing all of us away.

“It’s not your fault,” I whispered when the nurse had gone. I put a hand on his back but he twisted away. He blamed himself for his father’s injuries, but if it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I should have died on that plane, I thought bitterly. How many people were going to die, or be injured, protecting me?

And then I saw the police officers talking to the nurse at the reception desk.

I looked at Garrett. I knew what I needed to do but...God, I couldn’t. I looked at the guards. They shook their heads. Neither of them dared approach Garrett, not when he was going through this. It had to be me.

I swallowed and walked around in front of him. He was staring at the floor and didn’t even acknowledge me.

“Garrett?” I said hesitantly. “Garrett, I can’t believe I have to ask you to do this but...the police are here. There are three dead bodies at the ranch. They’re going to take us into custody, all of us. We know there’s still a leak, high up. Sitting in a cell somewhere, we’ll be vulnerable.”

He finally looked up. The anger in his eyes almost made me step back. But I met his gaze: after all he’d been through for me, I could take it.

At last he dropped his eyes, marched past me and out of a fire exit. The rest of us raced to catch up. Seconds later, we were in the pickup, roaring away.

We’d lost everything. All our luggage had been in the house when it burned down. Our clothes were singed, tattered rags, our faces stained with smoke. Worst of all was the fury in Garrett’s eyes. I’d done the right thing but that didn’t make it okay. If his dad dies, if he’s not there….

The miles rolled by in silence and I watched Garrett’s anger harden and focus. His brow furrowed, just like it had back in the motel room when he’d spotted the broken vase. He was figuring something out, working through the possibilities.

And finally, he came to a conclusion.

I let out a scream as Garrett stamped on the brakes and the pickup went skidding sideways along the highway. He swerved us off the asphalt and onto the dirt. We bounced, leaned, and finally lurched to a stop facing the wrong way. Everyone was panting and cursing in fear.

Garrett was out immediately. He stalked around to the rear door and hurled it open. Then he reached in, grabbed Caroline by the neck and dragged her around to the front of the car. She screamed as he threw her down in the beam from the headlights.

Then he drew his gun and pointed it right at her head.