Girls Just Wanna Have Guns (41 page)

FROM THE DESK OF JESSICA TYLER (JT) ELLIS

ASSISTANT TO THE UNDERSECRETARY OF THE UNDERSECRETARY OF THE SECRETARY OF THE ASSISTANT TO THE DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE HOMELAND SECURITY

NEW ORLEANS, LA

Re: progress report stats

(to be filed under field notes, personal,
only
)

“Happy birthday, sleepyhead. You’ll be happy to know,” Nina said to her as she rested in the hospital room, “that you’re quite the celebrity again.”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to taunt the wounded.”

“Wimp.”

“Damned straight. Did I hear two women arguing over some sort of jurisdiction over me?”

Nina nodded, fluffed her pillow and handed Bobbie Faye some water to sip. “Yeah, apparently one of the three people who’d hijacked you in the middle of the street was actually Homeland Security, who hadn’t bothered to check in with the FBI over just who you were; they assumed you were really going to give the diamonds to Sean. Trevor set them straight and his boss and the SUV woman were not pleased with each other. I think this is the first time both sets are actually trying to
claim
you, B.”

“Oh, dear God.” Bobbie Faye tried not to move too much—the crater and two flesh wounds on her side where her appendix used to be hurt like hell, and she hated morphine, so she was trying to avoid using the stupid drip. She was quite proud of herself for not needing the medicine yet, for the whopping forty-five minutes she’d been awake. Given the slack-ass way her willpower usually worked, this was actually promising.

“Although they are somewhat distracted from you because they are also fighting over Emile and Sean—yeah,
the state police helicoptors stopped Sean from getting away—and they’re still looking for Marie. Oh, and you’re gonna love this one . . . the governor claims he helped you in your undercover sting operation and he’s assured the public that you are completely innocent of any possible wrongdoing.”

“Are you going to give him back the pictures?”

“Ha. No way. Those puppies are mine.” Nina smiled at her and fussed a bit, brushing Bobbie Faye’s hair as she sat on the side of the bed. “You’ve been busy,” she said, and Bobbie Faye tried not to laugh, because laughing hurt. Hell, everything hurt, including thinking.

“Benoit?”

“Waking up as we speak,” Nina said. “He’s kinda gone in and out of consciousness, but he seems to be stabilizing, so they think he’s going to make it.”

Bobbie Faye relaxed back into the pillow, so relieved she didn’t even bother to hide the tears flowing down her cheeks. Nina sat with her a minute, handing her a Kleenex without mockage.

“There are two guys out there holding a barely controlled truce,” Nina said. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to, but they both look incredibly haggard, and Cam acts like he’s . . . come to his senses or something?”

“I have no clue. He certainly was . . . confusing yesterday. From one extreme to the other.”

“You had to go pick the two alpha-est males on the planet, didn’t you?”

“Apparently, I’m very talented in ‘stupid.’ And hey—you didn’t have to rush home. I know you have a life—you can’t always drop everything when I’m blowing things up.”

“Well, fine, then I’ll just come for every
other
time you take out the entire political structure of the state, along with a couple of landmarks. But get used to me—I’m going to be here until you’re okay.” When she started to argue, Nina shushed her. “No, sorry, but you don’t get a vote, B. Sean’s apparently unhappy.”

“I thought Trevor shot him. A lot.” She knew she must be groggy from some form of pain meds when she only felt like throwing up in panic, not completely wigging out.

“He did. But the bastard lived and it should have been fatal. He had on body armor underneath his clothes because Trevor shot him multiple times, though he grazed Sean’s head twice, once pretty badly. When he didn’t die from the chest shots, Trevor realized what was happening and aimed for appendages. Sean’s not going to be using his arms much anytime soon.”

“Wow.”

“Exactly. And this came for you today from Sean.” She showed Bobbie Faye a note, sealed in plastic. “They were going to take it in, but I convinced them you had a right to see it.”

Bobbie Faye looked at it, but it was in Gaelic, and she glanced up to Nina, puzzled.

“Apparently it says that ‘you’re his’—in a way that’s strongly emphatic. Like, he owns you. So we’re being extra careful until he’s transferred into a maximum-security prison.”

“Lovely.”

“Meanwhile, there are two guys out there, and I don’t know how long that truce will hold. The question to you is . . . who do I send in first?”

Cam loomed inside the doorway, favoring his bandaged leg. Thank God he’d been reinstated. She’d never seen him this ragged before. That he cared about her hadn’t totally surprised her—even when they had fought bitterly and regularly, she knew he cared, at least as a friend.

But this was the first time in a year she could see more . . . the way he used to look at her.
Damn
, she really was regretting the no-morphine decision.

Instead of taking the chair next to the bed, Cam sat on the bed itself like he would if they had been together. The electrical jolt to her heart made her blush and she knew he
saw it. He brushed her hair out of her eyes a little, and she waited, wondering just what in the hell he was thinking.

He stared for a long, long moment.

“If you’re going to yell at me, could you get it over with? The suspense is killing me.”

“I’m not going to yell. I’m going to tell you that when I saw how much control you had with that guy—how you didn’t show any fear, though I know you, I know you were feeling it, and you thought so fast under pressure, I was really proud of you. Scared to death, but proud of you.”

She blinked.
Holy shit
. She couldn’t think of a single sensible thing to say. He was
proud
of her?

“I see my plan to confuse you has worked,” he said, grinning.

“There aren’t a lot of coherent brain cells left here—play fair.”

“Look, we’ve got to talk. I know you’ve started seeing this guy, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s completely my fault. I thought I had good reasons for what I did, but I went about everything all wrong. Completely, stupidly, wrong.”

She was groggy and tired and her brain must not be working because
what the hell
? “Well, if you’d wanted to break up with me, all you had to do was—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

He was back to being daft again. She sighed. “Before you arrested Lori Ann. I mean, I could tell you were unhappy, and for several months you were distant and weird and kept pushing me away. I knew something was wrong. If you’d just said—”

“Stop. Just . . . holy . . . Baby, is that what you think?”

She stared at him, and her head hurt with the noise from her careening thoughts. Because
of course
that’s what she thought. And their stellar argument after he’d arrested her sister and him yelling
get the fuck out of my life with this shit
pretty much sealed it.

“I was nervous because I had bought you a ring and wanted to ask you, but things kept happening and the timing was never calm or right or happy. I was more nervous
than before a game. I couldn’t figure out a good, romantic way to do it.”

“You’re kidding me.” She must be dying. She had a terminal illness. They found it when they went in after the bullets. That was the only reason he was being so nice.

“No.
You
better than anybody know how all kinds of stupid I can be. I’m asking you to forgive me. Please. You were so worried and upset over your sister. It killed me to see you in knots. I thought if I just solved the Lori Ann problem, you’d be able to breathe peacefully a little while, and when you went ballistic . . . I went to the moron end of the scale. And those arguments—they were bad. We both said things we didn’t mean.”

They had.
She
had. It had been bloody and merciless and somehow, she had lost sight of the fact that as best friends, they had always known that they would be there for each other—no matter what. Even through a fight. And yet, they had taken that for granted, and had thrown it away. He entwined his fingers into hers, brushing away tears she didn’t know she was shedding.

“I’m not going to force you into a decision. I know I pushed you away, I know this guy has stepped up, but we have something permanent, and you know it. We have always had it, even when I was too stupid to know. That doesn’t ever go away—not if it’s real, and ours was.
Is
. If I hurt you half as much as I’m hurting now, I don’t know how you can forgive me, but I’m asking you to try.

“But I’m done being stupid, baby. I want you to think about that, before you commit to this guy.”

She just did not know what to say, and she knew he saw that. It broke his heart, she could tell, that she didn’t automatically leap into his arms, picking up where they left off . . .

. . . because she honestly didn’t know what she felt.

And it was killing her.

Nina stood outside Bobbie Faye’s room where Trevor had not-so-subtly parked himself so that he could see into the
small window on the hospital door. She had to give it to her best friend—she sure as hell knew how to pick the good-looking ones. Extreme alpha, knocking against the top rating on the damned-gorgeous sex-ometer.

The man stood quietly, his arms crossed. She finally decided to cut him a little slack.

“She asked me to remind you that you had a manual you should be studying.” She looked at him for a response, and he allowed the smallest indication of a smile, his gaze never wavering from that window.

They fell silent again for a minute, until he finally said, “He’s going to be a real problem for me, isn’t he?”

She looked into the window, saw that Bobbie Faye had tears on her cheeks, though they couldn’t see Cam’s face.

“Probably.” Then after a moment, she said, “I’m not entirely sure that he’s not the best choice for her, you know.” She looked pointedly at him. “The safest.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “But you’re not backing away, are you?”

He shook his head slightly. “I’d have to stop breathing, first.”

She
hmphed
, and they went back to staring at that door. Then she said, “I’d have never believed it, with someone with your reputation.” That got her the arched eyebrow, but he didn’t waver from his watch. “Have you told her all about your past?”

Their gazes met. “Have you told her about yours?”

She thought about that and shook her head. He had a point. “I don’t think she has to know.”

“Eventually, she will, you realize. And I’m not hiding my past from her.”

“That’s a big risk.”

“She’s worth it.” He waited a moment. “So how was Italy?”

It was her turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. That meant he had as high a security clearance as she did, if he knew to ask.

“It was sad, really. Unfortunately, a wealthy businessman there had a tragic ending.” She smiled. He smiled
back. She let the moment linger, then they both grew serious. “You understand,” she said, quietly, “if you hurt her, I will kill you.” It was not an idle threat.

He went back to watching that door. “If I hurt her, I will let you.”

Cam came out of Bobbie Faye’s room, gently closing the door, giving Trevor the hard, take-no-prisoner’s stare that cops seemed to perfect after a few days on the job. There were about fourteen-thousand threats that passed silently back and forth between the men. Nina half-wondered if she was going to have to step between them when Cam said, “I’ll be back to see her in a couple of hours. Enjoy the very limited time you have.”

“I will,” Trevor said, as Cam left the waiting area.

When Trevor walked into the room, Bobbie Faye pulsed with the hum in her skin the way she always did when he was around, and she felt happy and guilty about that at the same time. Guilty because Cam had stirred up so many memories . . . feelings? Or just memories of feelings?

Her brain sent up a white flag, begging for mercy.

Trevor stepped to her bedside and asked, all impersonal sounding, no sexy growling, “Did Nina tell you that the judge put Lori Ann in a very nice work-training program with daycare?”

“She said you were instrumental in setting that up. In one day, no less. And an apartment for her.”

“Do you mind?”

Bobbie Faye shook her head. She was relieved, actually. “Does she know you did this?” Lori Ann was about as enthusiastic over people interfering in her life as Bobbie Faye was.

“No, she thinks the judge looked at what happened with you and decided her sentence was out of proportion. She thinks it’s all court-ordered. And Roy, of course, has four dates lined up with the nursing staff. At last count.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” He nodded. At least this meant Lori Ann could help with the expenses of raising
Stacey. Well, technically, it was Lori Ann’s responsibility, but Bobbie Faye wasn’t about to dump that whole burden back on her sister. They’d share it, share the expenses. But at least Bobbie Faye could quit worrying about trying to start a second job, like the swamp-tour business.