We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek #11) - Calle J. Brookes Page 0,34

in a kitchen chair, her hands busy at work on the bloody bandage. There was blood on her friend. Lots of it. Izzie tried not to panic.

“What’s happened?”

Turner and Allen shared a look.

Izzie crossed her arms, tucking the small bag with the two syringes under her arms close to her breasts. “You two are not getting the presents I brought unless you level with me. What’s going on?”

She looked at the one person who had never kept secrets from her. “Ann?”

“He’s been shot!” Annie jerked to her feet. “He’s too stupidly stubborn to go get it x-rayed. No. We had to come here to Allen’s kitchen table because someone didn’t want to report it over the TSP radios.”

Annie practically shouted the answer. Uh-oh. Izzie took a step toward her. “Ann?”

“I don’t understand why some people think that whatever they want, they are going to get by saying it. It’s the law that we report it. Never mind the fact that someone shot at him tonight.”

Annie stalked toward Izzie. The fierce expression on Annie’s face told Izzie everything she needed to know. “Give them to me.”

“I can do it. If you want to take a break.” Izzie studied Annie quickly. There was blood on Annie’s white tank top. The pink jacket Annie had worn for years lay on Allen’s kitchen table, saturated with red, ruined. “You’re not hurt?”

“No. I wasn’t the target. He was. Which is why he’s an idiot for not getting someone to guard him. No. It might screw up whatever scheme he’s got going on. Never mind that someone tried to kill him. Could have killed the both of us!”

Annie jerked around until she was staring at him. “You...you...” She spun back around. No one dared to talk. Izzie shot a quick glance at Allen. He was staring at Annie like she’d grown four heads. Izzie smirked.

Yep. Allen Jacobson hadn’t ever seen the real Annie. Not many people had.

Annie had one of the hottest tempers Izzie had ever seen. She also had one of the biggest senses of control. Izzie had only seen her lose that control a handful of times. Usually with Annie’s mother. Or with bullies. There had been that one memorable time when Izzie had done something royally stupid—involving a man six years older than she was, when she was fifteen at the time—Izzie had been on the receiving end of that temper.

Annie stormed over to the sink and began washing the blood off her hands and arms.

Izzie turned toward the mayor of Finley Creek. She’d met him through a friend of hers about a year ago—and while not exactly a friend, she liked him well enough. Not if he was going to get Annie hurt. “Well, you’ve really set her off now.”

“She has a temper.” There was shock in Turner’s eyes. She didn’t think it was from blood loss. “She seems so...sweet.”

“She is. She doesn’t suffer fools easily. Especially when she’s scared.” Or cared about someone. Izzie was starting to suspect that Annie did care about this man. He’d certainly found his way into Annie’s world quite a few times lately.

Izzie pulled the tetanus booster out first.

Annie would need a few minutes to calm herself back down. “So what exactly happened, and why didn’t you go to the ER?”

“I have my reasons.”

The look in his eyes told her those reasons were darker than he had wanted anyone to know.

“Is Annie going to be safe?” she asked bluntly. “In whatever’s going on? She has three kids who need her safe.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt her ever again.”

That didn’t answer Izzie’s question. Not by a long shot.

Allen had apparently sewn up the wounds on Turner’s arm before she’d gotten there. Going along with the mayor’s scheme.

“Why are we not reporting this? You can get into trouble for this.” She looked at Allen. He ran the biggest risk by not following the laws. She wouldn’t want to see him get into serious trouble for this. He was far too brilliant of a surgeon for the hospital to lose him over something like this.

“We are,” he said, surprising her. “I’ve already called Elliot Marshall. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“Damn it, Al. A little loyalty here. Solidarity against the pretty ladies,” Turner said, his eyes trained on Annie. Like he couldn’t look away.

He seemed fascinated.

“Someone shot at you. They could have hurt Annie. Regardless of what you have going on—or what you want coming out in the open—we have to report it to the