Aimée Thurlo - Restless Wind

Dana stopped abruptly, seeing the men closing in from all sides.

“Run for the door,” Ranger said, then rushed the man in their way, though his opponent was built like a human roadblock.

Unwilling to leave Ranger alone to fight three men, Dana turned and kicked one of the men coming up from behind. As she turned toward the other guy who was behind Ranger, she realized he was pulling out a handgun.

Ranger, busy fighting the big guy, had his back turned. Dana yelled out, warning Ranger as she dove for the pistol and knocked it out of the man’s hand. There was a loud pop as the weapon flew across the lane, sliding beneath a red car.

The man cursed, clutching his hand, and staggered back, looking for his weapon. Ranger hurled his opponent over his shoulder, slamming him into the pavement. Dana kicked the shins of the smaller man, the one she’d kicked first.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the third man, having given up on the pistol, trying to decide who to attack, her or Ranger. Then seeing the big man down, flat on his back, he suddenly bolted, along with his partner. Within seconds they were halfway across the parking lot, racing toward a shiny new pickup.

“Maybe they saw we were getting some help,” Dana said, and pointed. Agent Harris was running toward them, two security guards behind him.

As two of their assailants sped away, Ranger cursed, then quickly focused back on the third man, who was still on the pavement, moaning.

The downed man groaned in defeat as Harris and the two security guards teamed up to handcuff him, then hauled him to his feet.

“Do you recognize this guy?” Harris asked Dana, who shook her head after taking a closer look at the man’s blood-smeared face.

Harris looked at Ranger, who also shook his head. Immediately the agent read the man his rights and flashed his Bureau ID. “Do yourself a favor and don’t piss me off,” he growled after he’d finished. “What’s your name and who sent you?”

“Name’s Truman Ockerman,” he said, mumbling. “I was just here to rough up the Indian because he owes the wrong people a chunk of change,” he said, looking at Ranger.

“Wrong. Try again,” Ranger shot back.

“Who hired you?” Harris repeated.

“The two wimps who just ran off,” Truman grumbled. “I’m a pro wrestler, but I got hurt and that put me out of work for a while. Hey, I gotta eat just like everyone else.”

“I’m going to ask you this one last time. I want names. Who hired you?” Harris said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know. I met them at the Terminal Café barely an hour ago. They told me what they wanted, then paid me a hundred down in cash. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. We’d wait here until you two came to visit a sick friend, slap you around a bit, scare the woman, then toss you both into a trash bin.”

“What about the gunshot? That suggests the plan included more than a beating,” Harris snapped.

“They changed the plan at the last minute. I was supposed to clock this dude while they took the woman back to their pickup for who knows what. I’m no pervert, so I figured I’d just deck the guy, then split.”

“You’re involved in an attempted murder,” Ranger growled. “One of your buddies was about to shoot me when my partner stepped up and knocked away his pistol.” He glanced at Harris then added, “It slid beneath that red Chevy. There’s the brass from the round he got off,” Ranger added, pointing at the ejected shell casing on the pavement.

Dana looked at Ranger, her stomach in knots as she remembered. He’d made it sound so matter-of-fact but the truth was she’d been terrified she’d be seconds too late.

“Guns, shooting people. None of that was my idea. It’s the truth, I’m telling you,” Ockerman said as one of the security men led him away.

Harris bent down and aimed a penlight beneath the red car. “Looks like a thirty-two.” The agent pulled a latex glove from his jacket pocket, then picked up the shell casing and examined it closely. “You both still in one piece?”

Ranger looked at Dana, who nodded, then focused back on Harris, who was placing the spent cartridge into a small envelope.

“Anything from Glint so far?” Ranger asked.

“Nothing,” Harris said. “Let me collect the weapon, then we’ll go inside.”

Ranger stood beside Dana and gave her hand a squeeze while the agent retrieved the pistol and stowed it away.

“Your people haven’t made much headway, Agent Harris. So how about letting me take the lead once we’re in Glint’s room?” Dana asked, letting go of Ranger’s hand once they reached the hospital door.

Ranger rammed his hands in his pockets and shrugged when Harris glanced over at him. “If I were you, I’d let her have a shot. The lady’s got good instincts. She saved my butt tonight.”

“I’ve learned a lot these past few days, Agent Harris,” Dana said as they passed a nurses’ station. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Go for it.” Harris nodded at the two guards standing by the closed door of Room 122, then led the way inside.

Xander Glint was a barrel-chested man with hairy arms, one of them hooked up to an IV, the other handcuffed to a bed rail. Despite the fact that he was propped up in bed, he was still defiant, and glared at them as they came through the doorway. When he saw Dana, he smiled, showing a missing tooth and a split lip just starting to heal.

“I just love this hospital-providing a woman of the evening to comfort me. Give us a half hour alone, okay, guys?” he said, leering at Dana. “And somebody close the door as you go.”

Ranger’s gaze slashed through him like razor blades. “You working to be unconscious again, loudmouth?”

Dana stepped in front of Ranger and moved closer to the bed, taking a good, long look at Glint’s face.

“I know you,” she said quietly. “He’s definitely one of the kidnappers,” she added, looking over at Harris, who nodded.

Glint shook his head. “One of who? I’ve never seen you before, lady.”

“Yes, you have-back at the cabin. You remember me, I can see it in your eyes.” She glanced at Harris again. “No doubt at all in my mind, Agent Harris. This is one of the men who kidnapped the medicine man and me, and is responsible for his murder. I’ll gladly testify to that at his trial.”

“This woman is nuts-or blind,” Glint said, sitting upright now.

Harris smiled. “Looks to me like you’re finally going down, Glint. It won’t take a jury fifteen minutes to convict you. The medicine man’s murder may even get you the chair instead of life without parole. If I were you, I’d start talking. It’s the only chance you’ve got.”

“People who spill their guts to the cops end up dead,” he spat out. “I’ll take my chances in court.”

“Flowers…” Dana commented, looking down at the daisies on the nightstand. “I wonder if the woman who sent them knows you won’t be getting out before she’s old and gray? She won’t even remember what you looked like, if you ever make parole, that is.”

“Forget the sob story, I have no idea how those flowers got here. They probably got the wrong room. Now get out, all of you,” Glint said. “I want a lawyer.”

Dana studied the flowers for a moment, then took out the small notebook from her purse. As the men’s attention became focused on her, Dana turned the pad around and showed Glint what she’d written.

Don’t talk. There’s some kind of electronic bug in your flowers, she wrote.

Glint raised off the bed and peered over as she pointed it out to him. He turned and gave Harris an obscene gesture.

“Not mine,” Harris said, taking a closer look.

Your boss doesn’t trust you. You’re a dead man, Dana wrote.