forward, but he had. As to how much damage he’d done, she had no way to tell. She wouldn’t know until the swelling went down.
After she’d been certain they weren’t being followed, she’d stopped the van at a gas station and helped him onto the bed, and put Oliver in his kennel.
Her only option for help was on South Padre Island. There was no real hospital there.
There was a hotel there that might have people she knew, though.
The Barratt entourage had been huge. Someone had to be around somewhere. If nothing else, she’d plead and do whatever she had to get someone to even call Mel for help.
She had absolute faith that Mel would help in a heartbeat.
It was what friends did for each other.
She needed help, and she needed it fast. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him in a damned parking lot.
The only safe place she could think to leave him was near the SPI police station in a Dollar General parking lot. She wrote him a quick note and put it next to the bed. Just in case.
The Barratt—SPI was four blocks away.
Izzie moved as fast as she could toward it.
The island had free public transportation.
There it was. The newest South Padre Island hotel.
The Barratt—South Padre.
With a familiar black limousine still parked out in front, one door open while the driver unloaded luggage.
It was the one with purple interior. She’d even ridden in that car.
Hopefully, help would be waiting inside. If not, she would be renting a room in her real name and then calling in the TSP. Calling Jake.
They had already been found.
That was the only plan she really had.
She walked up to the information desk, feeling completely out of place in her cutoff denims from the secondhand store and an old FCU T-shirt of Allen’s.
“May I help you, miss?” the concierge asked. He was too well-trained to say anything, but Izzie knew what he believed. The last place she looked like she belonged was at a Barratt. Even one fifty feet from the beach.
“I’m a friend of Melody Barratt and her husband. I understand they are here today, or Houghton’s cousins. I need to speak with one of them. Please. It’s urgent.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid I cannot release that information. We have a strict privacy policy for all of our guests—and staff.”
“Can you…call her? Tell her Izzie is in the lobby? It’s an emergency. I’ll go over there and won’t even look at you while you do it. But if there’s a Barratt in this hotel, I need…I really. Just please…I need to speak to someone in charge.”
He hesitated.
If she got thrown out, she couldn’t get the help they needed.
His gaze fastened on the blood on her cast and T-shirt. “Is someone hurting you?”
“They will. If I don’t get to see Mel.” Izzie made a point of meeting the older man’s eyes. There was concern there; she hadn’t missed it. “Mel and I have been friends for years. Her sister Jillian and I work together, too. My best friend is engaged to Turner Barratt, too. Please, just let someone know I’m here. I’ll wait. But please hurry. It’s an emergency.”
“Let me make a phone call. I’ll find someone to help you.”
Izzie nodded, half suspecting he was going to call hotel security and toss her right outside on her ass. Or call the police. The TSP didn’t have a branch on the island, but there were city police.
It’s what she would have done.
Houghton had some seriously tight security on Mel at all times. And her family. To protect them. She wouldn’t want to live like that, but Mel loved him. She’d told Izzie once what had happened to Houghton’s mother. His greatest fear was losing Mel.
Like Izzie’s was not making it back to Allen in time. How much that terrified her was something she couldn’t put into words.
Fifteen minutes of watching every entrance for the men who had attacked them earlier, and someone said her name from behind her.
Izzie jerked her head around.
Her eyes met green. Familiar green eyes.
“Chance!” Jillian’s brother-in-law stood there, a worried expression on his too handsome face. “Thank God. We need help.”
“What’s going on? Who hurt you? Who is we, Iz?” He stepped closer after nodding at the concierge once. The older man shot Izzie a kind look then went back to his business. “Izzie, what happened to you?”
“Allen needs help. Right now. He’s been shot again. We were on Highway 550 and were ambushed. They ran us off