Chapter Twenty-Nine

Everlee was rushed into emergency surgery upon arrival, and Shane was directed to wait in one of those nondescript beige conference rooms. The kind where family and friends gathered and drank too much coffee, and worried and waited. Detective Senz showed up shortly after he arrived. For well over two hours, Shane explained, re-explained, then re-re-explained every step he and Everlee had taken since they'd entered Little Rock airspace. He showed Detective Senz the crime scene photos on his phone. Explained why and how they'd tracked Astor to her hotel suite. Which federal agency had assigned the duty to a private contractor. What gave them legal authority. Which contractor. Why. Over and over. Around and around. He and Detective Senz went over every last detail until Shane was sick and tired of repeating himself.

Enter Alex with two venti Starbuck coffees. Smart man. Everything changed then. Alex tackled Little Rock' finest head-on, almost confrontationally, as if he had a chip on his shoulder that Shane was being questioned at all. Told Senz he needed to check with his chief, get his son of a bitchin' story straight, that this was a federal affair, not local. That The TEAM had been contracted to apprehend Astor and ensure Ms. Smart's safety, and to stop badgering his agents.

Alex wasn't rude, just so damned direct that Shane felt sorry for Senz when he tucked his little paper tablet and pencil into his suit jacket pocket, told Shane not to leave town for the next forty-eight hours, and headed for the elevator.

"He's just doing his job," Shane told Alex after he'd handed him a coffee and settled into the chair opposite his.

"And we're just doing ours," Alex clipped. "Tell me what you know, what you think. How's Ev?" The man was a no-nonsense, hard-driving son of a bitch.

"She's tough. She received medical care the second she hit the floor because I had my blowout bag with me. I'd already started first-aid when the EMTs showed. Tuesday assisted. EMTs were prompt, gave Ev blood within minutes of her getting hit. Dottie Kaminski," he told Alex. "That's the medic who treated Ev."

"Good to know." Alex damned near smiled. "I expect your after-action report on my desk the day you get back."

"It'll be there. But one question."

"What?"

"Why'd the FBI pawn this mission off on you? Why didn't they pick up Tuesday Smart themselves? She wasn't hard to find. Hell, she was living in their backyard."

"Because…" Alex let that one word hang in the air for a full minute, then he sucked in a chest full of air, arched his back, stretched both hands over his head, and finally admitted, "Not everything is black and white in our world, but try telling the Bureau that. They have too many rules, too much bureaucracy, too much red tape and crap to wade through to do their job. I don't. Federal regulations hamstring them. When I found out from a reliable source they were going after Tuesday Bremmer like they usually go after criminals—like damned wrecking balls—I intervened. Got the contract assigned to me and my TEAM. Sounds like I made a smart decision, didn't I?"

"She never killed anyone."

"Exactly. From the start, there were too many red flags. Call it a gut feeling, but I've seen enough to know twenty-twenty vision can still make you blind."

"So how'd you finagle that contract? Just walk over and ask to speak to the Director?"

Alex's face lit up like a carved Halloween pumpkin. "You ought to know by now that I have friends in low places. Just a matter of working the right communication line. Knowing who to tweak, when to suggest, when to charge. Director Tucker Chase is a damned good man. I'll have to introduce you someday."

A nurse appeared at the door marked Do Not Enter . "Mr. Hayes?" she asked the room.

"Here," Shane answered as he and Alex both stood.

"Ms. Yeager is being moved to her room now. If you'll follow me, I'll take you there."

Shane and Alex followed the nurse to the elevator, then to Everlee's room. She looked pale after the staff transferred her to the bed and arranged a mass of medical equipment around her. The nurse explained that there was a drainage tube in Everlee's left side to prevent air pressure from compressing her lung. The tube would stay in for at least two days, possibly as long as five. Ev also had a couple IVs. A blood pressure cuff on her right arm. An oximeter on her left index finger. A noisy, beeping contraption at the head of her bed. Her oxygen stat was good, he could read that much, and her heartbeat was steady.

Her surgeon stepped into the room just as the last of the staff stepped out. He explained how both Shane's and EMT Kaminski's immediate first-aid had facilitated Everlee's chances of complete recovery. "If she continues to surprise us like she has, I'll release her in twenty-four hours."

"Ev never ceases to surprise any of us," Alex growled good-naturedly. "Thank you, sir."

The surgeon nodded, shook their hands, and left.

Alex cuffed Shane's shoulder once the door closed behind the guy. "Everlee's a fighter. Just wait and see. She'll be sassing us plenty before breakfast tomorrow."

Shane had no doubt.

"I've got to check in with Mark and Mother. Take good care of my girl while I'm gone."

Because a smart "Yes, sir" was forever on the tip of his tongue, Shane simply nodded. But Alex was wrong. Everlee was not his girl. She belonged to Shane, and he was finally where he belonged, at her side. The only light in her room came from the bathroom. He closed that door, left just the barest crack, for who he wasn't sure. Everlee might need the comfort of a nightlight, and he knew he did. Dark nights were not his friends, and because of her dog Blade, he guessed she felt the same. Was he killing two birds with one stone? Maybe.

With a sigh of contentment, Shane dropped on his butt to the floor on the other side of the room, out of the nurses' way, and watched Everlee sleep. Just being with her calmed him like nothing else ever had. He'd damned nearly lost her tonight. To be able to sit there and simply watch her sleep, to see her chest lift and know she was on her way to recovery, felt like a blessing. He'd lost so much in life, first his mom, then Sara and Abby. Several guys in the Corps. To be able to sit there and quietly study Everlee's sweet face was damned humbling.

Shane made himself comfortable. He didn't need pillows or blankets. Just stretched out on the floor and set his internal alarm for five AM. Doctors made rounds early, and he wanted to be awake by then. He needed to know how to take care of her once she was released. What she could eat. When she could resume normal activity. All the really important stuff a man should know about the woman he had grown to love.

Because, damn it, she wasn't alone anymore and neither was he. He just hoped she recognized that fact when she woke up. More than anything, Everlee was hard-headed and stubborn. She led with her chin more than she needed to. But he'd also noticed how she'd withdrawn into herself when Mother had inadvertently revealed his history. It was good to have that out in the open, at least between him, Everlee, and Tuesday. But not once had Everlee confided in him the way Tuesday had. Shane honestly felt he knew Tuesday better than Ev, and that had to change.

He closed his eyes. His first civilian mission had been one continual mess, but it was over. Astor was dead and Mother had a ton of evidence that would prove Tuesday's innocence. But damn, Maeve Astor had left a trail of unanswered questions in her wake.

Number one: Why kill her husband and children?

Number two: How could any wife or mother do that? Mother had tracked that marriage and those birth certificates down. Her marriage to Atchison Bremmer was authentic. She was Toby's and Betsy's biological mother. She'd delivered both of them naturally. If he lived to be a thousand years old, Shane would never understand how women could mistreat their children.

Third question: How had Astor tracked Tuesday from Dallas, through the various vehicle changes Everlee had run them through, into Arkansas? It didn't seem possible. What'd Astor have, her own damn satellites overhead? He doubted that. Some kind of tracking device? A drone? But drones required technicians behind the lines to track and report, to deploy armament. Made no sense unless Astor had satellites. But satellites were expensive, were federally controlled, and Shane was certain Tuesday hadn't been wearing any kind of tracking device.

He seriously doubted Astor had more tricks up her sleeve since she was no-kidding dead. But if she did? If she had an accomplice, someone else in the shadows running interference, or worse, facilitating her ongoing crime spree against Tuesday? Shane wasn't worried. The Corps hadn't squandered time or money training him, and no Marine needed weapons to deal with Astor's lackeys. Astor's ghost and her ghost operatives could take that to the bank—or shove it up their asses.

Mental note to self: Ask Alex. He'll know. Better yet, ask Mother.

Shane fell asleep thinking about Everlee and Blade, Dolly and Molly, Mother and Tuesday and… something called forever.