Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,97

I don’t have eyes and ears everywhere? My security chief followed you out the other night!”

Pain shot up her arm as she twisted it again.

“You and Seth think you’re so smart together, don’t you? But I’ve been doing this five years. I’m committed! You think you can just come along with your fucking press pass and ruin everything? My daughter is alive. Do you hear me? And you won’t stop me from finding her.”

The muzzle of the gun dug harder into Bailey’s neck and she stifled a yelp. Maybe she should scream. Or kick. But Lucinda seemed just desperate enough, just crazy enough, to pull the trigger.

Bailey turned slightly, trying to make eye contact, hoping eye contact might snap her back to reality.

“I . . . It’s just Seth and me. That’s it.”

The blue eyes narrowed. Bailey took in Lucinda’s frizzy hair and her flushed skin. She wore a black T-shirt, and the neck was torn as though she’d been in a fight. Tiny red flecks dotted her cheek.

She smiled slowly. “I’m not worried about Seth now. Who else?”

Bailey’s stomach filled with dread as she looked at the red flecks. Blood. Had she shot someone at close range?

Adrenaline zinged through her like an electric current. Bailey stomped as hard as she could and flung her elbow back, then ducked and spun away. Lucinda tripped backward, but then she was on her again like a lamprey, and Bailey saw a flash of black as the gun came up.

Screaming, Bailey batted her arm away.

Pop!

Grit stung her eyes as the bullet ricocheted off the wall. Shrieking, Bailey spun toward Lucinda and batted her arm again, and the pistol flew from her hand and skittered across the pavement. Bailey lunged away, bumping into a trash can, and it went over like cymbals clanging. Bailey tripped over the bag of cat food and fell to her knees. She spied the six-pack of beer on its side. She grabbed a bottle, then turned and hurled it at Lucinda’s head just as she snatched up the gun. The bottle shattered as Bailey turned and sprinted for the street.

Pop!

Lightning-hot pain knocked her feet out from under her. She crashed to her hands and knees.

“Police! Stop!”

Bailey crawled toward the street as footsteps slapped against the pavement behind her.

“Nooo!”

Lucinda’s keening wail reached her, but all Bailey could think about was getting away. Fire burned her leg, and Bailey clutched it. She tried to stand, but her legs didn’t work, and she landed on her palms again. Her hands were red with blood. The pavement, too.

“Bailey!”

Jacob dropped to his knees beside her.

“Call 911!” he shouted at someone.

“Lucinda—” she gasped.

“We got her.”

Bailey looked over her shoulder to see a uniformed cop hunched over Lucinda. She was facedown on the pavement with her arms cuffed behind her back as the cop roughly patted her down.

“She shot you, babe.”

Bailey looked at Jacob as he stripped off his T-shirt. Sweat streamed down his face. He wrapped the shirt around her leg just below the knee, and Bailey slumped against the wall. She felt dizzy. Disoriented.

Jacob tied the shirt and pulled it tight.

“Ahh!”

“Sorry.” He looked at her. “We’ve got an ambulance coming.”

Bailey’s mind reeled from the burning pain. Her vision went gray around the edges. She leaned her head against the wall and felt her heart hammering, tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump, as she tried to catch her breath.

“What . . . how . . . ?”

Jacob picked up her hand and squeezed it. His fingers were red and slippery, like hers.

She looked up at him, and his deep brown eyes were intent on hers.

“Hold on.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay?”

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m scared.” She squeezed harder. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

SHE DRIFTED IN and out. The room was dim. Each time she opened her eyes, Jacob was a dark silhouette in the chair. Then she’d let her eyes close again.

And then she was sailing. It was sunset, and she was with her dad cutting across the shimmery waters of Laguna Madre on the Mary Alice. The sail caught a gust and the boat tipped. Bailey grabbed a cleat to keep from sliding. She tried to hang on, but the boat kept tipping and her grip wouldn’t hold. She called for her dad, but he wasn’t there.

Bailey shifted in the bed. The room was brighter now. Colder. She heard voices in the hallway.

Jacob sat forward.

“Hey,” he said.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt raw.

Jacob took her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Weird.”

“You’re still doped up.”

“I’m thirsty.”

He reached for