In the forty seconds it took for Nate to get from the bedroom to the kitchen, he died a thousand times expecting to find the love of his life lying dead in a pool of blood. He raced down the stairs and rounded the corner, expecting to see Brandon. Instead, he saw a trail of blood leading from the kitchen to the mudroom. He snagged the cordless phone from the counter and dialed as he ran.
He found Brandon leaning against the door jam, clutching his bloody right shoulder. Only when he got closer did he see the handle of the knife sticking out of Brandonâs skin.
âOh, God, Brandon. Here, sit down.â
Brandon grimaced, but made no move to sit. âThe son-of-a-bitch got away. I fired off a shot after he stabbed me, but I donât think I hit him.â
Nate heard sirens in the distance. âBrandon, please come inside and sit down. I need to call you an ambulance.â
âNo. No hospitals. You can do it. Itâs not as bad as it looks.â
Just the thought of probing Brandonâs soft skin made Nate feel sick. âNo, Bran. I canât treat you. Iâm too close. Besides, thereâs no way I can stitch you one-handed.â
Brandon wobbled on his feet. âCall Keith. Heâll help you. I canât go to the hospital knowing that guy could come back at any time.â
âHe wonât. The guardsââ
âYeah? And where the hell were the guards when that bastard broke into our house. And why didnât the alarm go off. Iâm surprised Sashaââ His face paled, a considerable feat since he was already as pale as death. âOh, God, Nate. Whereâs Sasha?â
âSit down, Bran. Weâll find Sasha, but weâve got to take care of you first.â Nate took his hand and started leading him towards the table.
âNate, weâve got to find her. She could be hurt.â
âSheriff?â Samâs voice carried through the kitchen. âBoss, where are you?â
Nate breathed a sigh of relief. âWeâre in the kitchen, Sam. Brandonâs hurt.â The fact that he and Bran were both clad only in boxers never crossed his mind. Help had arrived.
Sam took one look at the knife handle sticking out of Brandonâs arm and turned green. âJesus Christ. Let me call an ambulance.â
âNo, Nate and Keith can fix it. I discharged my weapon. I have to fill out a report.â
âScrew the report, Boss. You need to get to a hospital.â
Nate could tell by the look on Brandonâs face he was going to be stubborn. Giving in, though not gracefully by any means, Nate picked up the phone and called Keith and Amy.
âThereâs no need to call Amy.â
Nate gave him one of those donât-fuck-with-me looks. âIâve let you get away with not going to the hospital, but Iâm telling you right now, weâre going to do the rest of this my way. Weâre going to the office, and Amy and Keith will meet us there. Iâm so freaked out, I need all the help I can get. And at the first sign of trouble, Iâm packing your ass into an ambulance and hauling you to Chicago General. Understood?â
Brandon smiled in spite of his pain. âI thought I wore the pants in this family.â
âNo, and if you refuse to co-operate, Iâll make you ride downtown in your boxers.â As he left to fetch himself some clothes and Brandon some jeans, he heard Sam say, âI like him, Boss. Weâve finally found someone who can manage you.â
* * *
âOuch, damn it. Canât you take that thing out without making the hole any wider?â
Amy clucked her tongue sympathetically, but Nate was ruthless. âYouâre just lucky it hit bone and not an artery.â
âOh, yeah. I feel really damn lucky. I think when you finish dissecting my arm, Iâll go out and buy a bundle of lottery tickets.â
Keith said, âYou want me to sedate him?â
âSedate me? Nate already deadened my shoulder. Are sedatives really necessary?â
âFor the pain? No. To get you to stop bitching? Absolutely.â
Brandon looked to Nate. âArenât you going to take up for me?â
âAfter you left me alone and went charging into the night like the Lone Ranger? Youâre lucky I even deadened you up.â
âAw, baby, donât be mad at me. I was trying to protect you. Doesnât that count for anything?â
âSure. It would have been of great comfort to me at your funeral had that knife landed about eight inches to the left.â He was shaking so bad, Amy came over and put her arms around him.
âNathan, sweetie, go sit out in the waiting room. You donât need to be here when we pull the knife out. That cut is clean. All weâll have to do is remove it and stitch him up. Weâll be done in two shakes.â
âNo. Iâll stay. Letâs just get this over with.â He grasped Brandonâs left hand and held tight. Keith stood on the right side and held the handle, wearing latex gloves to preserve fingerprint evidence. Amy stood at the ready with gauze and antiseptic.
Brandon said, âBe sure to bag that for analysis when you pull it out. Youââ He broke of in a whoosh as Keith pulled the knife from his shoulder.
Blood rushed from the gash, but Amy was prepared. She sponged away the blood and then applied pressure. Brandon winced despite the numbing medication, but remained silent under the pain. Nate gripped his hand that much harder. Bran could tell he was fighting hard not to cry.
When she was satisfied that the bleeding was sufficiently under control, Amy disinfected the wound and broke open a suture kit. Sheâd just put the needle to his flesh when the door opened and Rex Howard walked in.
âHeard you had yourself some trouble tonight, Nash.â
âYou could say that. Howâd you hear about it?â
âI gave your deputy my card this afternoon, just in case. Looks like itâs a good thing I did. What the hell happened?â
Nate said, âDonât you think you should introduce us first?â
Howard stuck out his hand. âSorry about that. Iâm Rex Howard with the U.S. Attorneyâs Office.â
Nate let go of Brandon long enough to give an awkward, left-handed shake. Brandon introduced Keith, who also shook with Howard. Amy politely greeted the newcomer, but didnât pause in her stitching.
When the introductions were finished, Brandon said, âNate and I were upstairs when I heard the back door open. I grabbed my revolver and started downstairs. By the time I got to the living room, the bastard was already in the kitchen. He saw me and took off. I went running after him, and almost had him, too, when he turned around and threw that fucking knife at me. I guess I must have stood there for a second while I absorbed the fact that I had a six-inch steel blade wedged in my arm. Whatever, it gave him an advantage. He was out the door before I got back enough sense to take off after him. When I got to the door, I could just make out his back in the darkness. I fired a shot, but Iâm pretty sure I missed. Nate came down and found me leaning against the door with that stupid knife sticking out of my skin. He called Sam, and here we are.â
Howard was quiet for a minute. Finally he said, âNone of what youâve just described fits Wilsonâs usual MO. Donât get me wrong. I donât doubt everything happened just the way you said it did, but breaking in and running away just isnât Wilsonâs style. First of all, if he was casing your house, he would know that Dr. Morris wasnât alone. One thing about Wilson, he only goes after his established target. In all the crimes heâs suspected of, not a single innocent bystander was hurt. Secondly, Wilson isnât the type to run away. If he was brazen enough to break in with both of you home, heâd have been packing something a damn sight more destructive than a knife.â
Brandon nodded. âI thought the same thing.â Amy finished the stitching and pulled out a roll of gauze bandaging. She smeared antibiotic ointment on the cut, wrapped and taped it, and said, âIâll want to change the wrapping tomorrow, but I think it should heal nicely. Itâs going to be mighty sore for the next few days, but Iâll write you a prescription for the pain, if you want.â
Nate hugged her tight. âI can take care of all that. Thanks, doll. I owe you.â
She grinned. âIâll add it to your bill. What should we do with the knife?â
Brandon said, âIs Sam still outside?â
âI think so.â
âTake it to him and ask him to lock it up in the evidence room when he goes back to the office, please.â
âSure thing.â
âHey, Amy?â
She stopped on her way out the door. âYes?â
âThanks a lot.â
âNo problem. Youâre family.â
After she left, Keith said, âWhat I want to know is, where the hell were the guards? I thought you had someone watching the house.â
Howard said, âI spoke to Deputy Whit about that very thing. Best we can figure, the guy was smart enough to come when the guards were changing shifts. The only question now is, how did he know?â
Brandon shrugged. âGood question. I set it so that a deputy would be guarding Nate twenty-four hours a day. The shifts change every eight hours, unless the deputy needs to take off early, in which case itâs up to him to notify me or to trade with somebody. None of my men would just take off without a replacement.â
Howard rubbed his brow. âWhat about bathroom and meal breaks?â
âAs necessary.â
âSo it could have happened then.â
Brandon said, âTechnically speaking, yes, but Wilson would have to be watching, and even then, it doesnât explain why the alarm didnât go off, or why Sasha didnât bark a warning.â
âAbout the alarm, I couldnât say, but according to Whit, your dog was probably drugged.â
Brandonâs whole body tensed but Nate had enough sense to say, âIs she alright?â
âOne of Sheriff Nashâs men took her to the vet, but it looks like sheâll be fine. Heâs going to take some blood samples and try to figure out what the heck she was given.â
Keith, whoâd been leaning up against the counter in silence up until now, said, âIâm not a cop, but I think I might know how this guy worked out your schedule and your alarm codes.â
Brandon hopped off the table and shrugged into the loose fitting shirt Nate had brought with them. âIâm listening.â