Dana Mentink - Cowboy Bodyguard

The raucous conversation ended abruptly as all eyes slid to her. Shannon noticed a young woman, barely out of her teens, clutching a baby in a lace-trimmed blanket.

“I’m Cruiser. Talk to us, Doc,” said the largest biker, whose face was covered by a black beard.

Cruiser was flanked by several equally hairy individuals with similar tattoos. To his right stood a tall, lanky man with his hair in a long braid, who regarded Shannon with undisguised hostility. “T.J.’s gonna live, right? He’s gonna be all right?”

“I can’t give you any guarantees,” she said. “He sustained serious injuries in the fall.”

“We know what happened,” the braided man said, jutting his chin at the girl. “She did this to him, pushed him down the stairs.”

“I didn’t,” the girl said, swallowing convulsively. “It was an accident.”

Veins stood out on Cruiser’s jaw. “We’ll deal with her later.”

Shannon’s heart dropped. The woman’s dark eyes caught hers, wet with tears. “What’s your name?”

“Dina,” she whispered. “Dina Brown.”

“Not your business, Doc,” Cruiser snapped. “She’s ours to tend to.”

Ours? As if she was some sort of property. Shannon lifted her chin. “Are you threatening her?”

He walked closer, almost close enough that his wiry beard touched her face. She did not back down, though her throat went dry. “I don’t make threats,” he said. “Just promises.”

Shannon stood her ground until he finally backed away. She took the opportunity to swivel on her heel and make an escape, figuring this was a matter for the cops. She’d make sure they’d help Dina. On her way to place a phone call to fill them in, she was called in to assist with a cardiac emergency. It was almost an hour before she finally found her way to the break room. The door swung shut behind her, and her shoulders sagged, reminding her how long she’d been on her feet for another marathon shift. A slight figure stepped out of the shadows.

The slender brunette was clutching a bundle, tears rolling down her freckled cheeks in mascara-tinted rivulets. “Dina? What happened?”

The bundle wriggled.

“I said I had to go change Annabell, and I sneaked away. They’re all over the hospital, looking for me. I hid behind a laundry cart, and I heard them. They’re coming for me.”

Shannon pulled a corner of the blanket aside, relieved to see a tiny pink-cheeked baby, perfect as a porcelain doll, sleeping peacefully in Dina’s arms.

“She’s beautiful. How old?”

The girl smiled for the first time. “Four months. She was born on Valentine’s Day.”

“What really happened with T.J.?”

The smile vanished. “We were arguing. I told him I was leaving. He said we belonged to him, and we’d never get away.”

Shannon noted the faded bruises on the young woman’s arms, the round scar on her wrist. Her pulse ticked higher as Dina continued.

“He grabbed me and started to shake me. I shoved him as hard as I could. He tripped and fell down the stairs, but he was okay. I mean, he was moving and groaning and stuff. I ran to get help, but...” The tears came faster now. “The Tide thinks I did it on purpose. I have to get out of here. I was so stupid to get involved with them.”

Voices erupted in the hallway outside. Dina clung to Shannon’s arm, her nails digging in. Annabell stirred in her sleep. They had to find a quiet place where they could talk it over without running into any Tide members. Shannon grabbed her purse.

She pulled open the door and saw a man in a sport coat, a cop whom she recognized as Detective Mason. He’d interviewed her in the past about some gang-related injuries she’d treated. He’ll help. But then she caught sight of the man across from him: Cruiser. Cruiser handed him a thick envelope. Mason put it in his coat pocket. Shannon’s breath caught. Mason was on the take. How many others on the force were, too? Just as she closed the door, Cruiser glanced up and saw her. His eyes narrowed, and he took a step in her direction.

Panic roiled through her body as she shut the door and jammed a chair under the knob. She didn’t know if Cruiser suspected Dina of seeking out Shannon, but he clearly wasn’t thrilled to know she’d seen him with Mason. Goose bumps erupted on her arms. Whom could they trust? Time to triage. Biggest need first. Get Dina and the baby to safety. “There’s a back way.” Together, they hurried out the rear entrance, Shannon rifling through her purse. “I’ve got some cash. We’ll get a cab.”

They burst through the exit doors into a mild Los Angeles evening. It took only a moment to flag down a taxi, from the line waiting at the hospital, and hop inside. She gave him the address to a café located a few miles away. Shannon relaxed a fraction as the driver pulled from the curb, until Dina glanced at her cell-phone screen. Face gone bloodless, she turned the screen to Shannon. “It’s from Cruiser.”

There’s nowhere to hide.

The rumble of an approaching motorcycle deafened them. “Scrunch down,” she told Dina, trying not to stare out the window as the two motorcyclists drew closer, threading their way through city traffic. It was too risky to go back to her apartment. The noise and clamor of the city seemed to cage her in like prison bars.

“The police...” she whispered, too low for the cabbie to hear over his music.

Dina shook her head violently. “No. Please. The Tide has paid off some of the cops. They turn a blind eye to the drug deals for a cut of the profits.” Tears rolled down her face and splashed onto the baby’s cheek.

“They aren’t all on the take,” Shannon started. “Some of them...”

“You don’t understand,” she snapped. “The Tide is powerful. The cops are scared of them. If I’m found guilty of pushing T.J. down the stairs, the Tide has people in prison who will kill me. They’ll take my baby. I just need to find my brother. He has connections. He’ll help me.”

Shannon tried to calm her hysteria. “No one is going to send you to prison for an accident. Where is your brother?”

“Central California. I don’t know where exactly, but I can find him. I just need a few days. That’s all. Please,” she whispered. “Please.”

Central California. Unexpectedly, her memory dredged up the warm springtime breezes from her hometown, Gold Bar, where she’d left behind her old life, and her first love, her husband, Jack Thorn. Though Jack traveled regularly to his uncle’s farm in Santa Barbara, she’d never once reached out to see him. He was there now, according to her friend Ella’s latest text, not two hours away, probably eased into a saddle in that way that made her think he was born to be on a horse. She could call him. Just for advice.

No. Too much betrayal. Too much pain. She did not have the right, even if they were still technically married. That was a mess she had yet to clean up, the legal untying of a colossal mistake.

The motorcycle pulled up alongside the cab. Cruiser scanned the street. His look was filled with hatred as his glance swept the vehicle. She thought about the girls she’d treated in her volunteer work at the women’s shelter, terrified young ladies with few options and no resources. Desperate, just like Dina. The memory stiffened her spine and cemented a decision deep in her gut.

A few days, that was all. She’d escort Dina someplace safe. The cabbie made it through the light, leaving the bikers stuck behind a loaded semi. They made a move to edge onto the sidewalk, but the presence of two traffic cops was enough to dissuade them. It was the break she needed. “I’ve changed my mind. Take us to the nearest rental-car company,” she told the cabbie.

She stared at the phone in her hand. Again, the urge to call Jack nearly overwhelmed her. Her finger hovered over the buttons.