Calculated Risk (Triumph Over Adversity #1) - Lynn Shannon Page 0,53

on the task at hand—saving his brother. Nathan wasn’t his flesh and blood, but might as well be. Jason couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

Please, God. I’ve made so many mistakes. Guide me to make the right ones now.

He halted at the edge of the road. Jason tightened the hold on his weapon as he assessed the situation. The trooper’s vehicle was sitting at an angle, driver’s side door open. The squawk of the radio broke through the stillness of the night.

Someone moaned.

The sound came from the other side of the car. Jason would have to step into the road to gain a vantage point. It put him at risk if a sniper was hiding in the trees, but there wasn’t a choice.

Bracing himself for the sound of gunfire, Jason slipped out of the woods. He raised his gun and circled the trooper’s vehicle.

“Don’t try it.” The command, little more than a growl, came from behind the trooper’s open door. The barrel of a gun was visible. It was pointed straight at Jason’s chest.

“Nathan, it’s me.”

“Jason.” The gun disappeared. “We need paramedics.”

Jason continued around the door and his friend came into view. Blood coated the side of Nathan’s face, more covered his pants. Beside him was the trooper. The man was unconscious and badly injured. Nathan had removed his shirt and was using it as a pressure bandage against the trooper’s chest.

“Paramedics are on the way.” Jason crouched next to the law enforcement officer and felt for a pulse. A heartbeat thumped against his fingers. Relief flooded over him. “What happened?”

“Ambush.” Nathan grimaced. “The trooper was attacked first. I intervened, and the shooter hit me too.”

Jason’s gaze swept across his friend. Nathan had been shot in the leg. Judging from the amount of blood, the bullet had nicked an artery. Jason quickly removed his belt and then wrapped the leather around his friend’s leg as a makeshift tourniquet. “Did you see who it was?”

Nathan leaned his head against the car. “No, but he was aiming to kill. One bullet must’ve grazed my head. It knocked me out. I think the shooter thought I was dead. I came to moments before you arrived.”

Jason’s head jerked up. “What? No, Nathan. You must’ve been conscious longer than you thought. You sent me a text message.”

“No, I didn’t.” His hand flew to his pocket. “My cell is gone.”

Sheer panic shot through Jason’s veins. If Nathan didn’t have his cell phone, then the shooter did.

It’d been a trap.

Jason shot to his feet. “Addison.”

He bolted for the trees. Addison’s house was barely visible through the thick branches. Jason plowed through them, desperation fueling his steps.

No. No. No.

Jason burst free of the tree line and raced across the yard. He didn’t bother with disarming the security system or unlocking the door. He shoved his boot against the lock, breaking the door down in one kick.

A gunshot echoed through the house followed by a scream.

Addison.

Jason bolted for the back bedroom. The sound of crashing glass came down the hall as he surged across the threshold. The window in Addison’s room was broken, a dark shadow escaping across the yard. There was no time to give chase. All he cared about was Addison.

Heart thundering, he slid to a stop in the bathroom doorway. The door was hanging from the hinges, boot marks embedded in the wood from being broken down. A chair had been thrown across the room. It rested legs up on the tile. Addison held a towel in one hand, mace poised to spray in the other. Her shirt was spattered with blood. She registered Jason’s presence and tears streamed down her face.

“You’re hurt.” He reached for her. Adrenaline could mask pain. “You’ve been shot.”

“No, it’s not me.”

She shifted. Jason’s chest tightened so much it was impossible to draw in a breath and time slowed as his vision narrowed. Pain, as vibrant as the day of the bombing in Afghanistan, vibrated through him.

Connor lay on the bathmat, blood coating his fur.

Twenty-Nine

Addison pressed her foot against the accelerator, pushing her Honda Civic as much as she dared on the dark country road. The closest emergency vet was twenty minutes away from her house. She cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror. Jason was stroking Connor’s muzzle with one hand, while applying pressure to stop the wound from bleeding with the other.

Tears pricked the back of Addison’s eyelids, but she clamped down on her emotions. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Later, there would be time to