Trust No One (50 page)

Adrenaline shot through MJ. She stripped out of her jacket, then tugged off her sweatshirt to use as a compress. Wearing nothing more than her sports bra, not even feeling the cold, she used her teeth to start a rip in the shirt and tore it in half. She folded the pieces into squares. She needed something to hold them tight.

Tasha was wearing the kind of athletic sweats that had an elastic waistband and the long tie threaded through. MJ untied the string at Tasha’s waist and pulled it free from her pants.

She took one improvised pad and laid it under Tasha’s back, threaded the string around her body. Then MJ laid the pad on the front wound and tied the string tight. She added extra pressure to the front wound. At the rate Tasha was bleeding the pads would soon be soaked. She needed medical attention fast.

Tasha’s beautiful complexion took on a death pallor. MJ knew she was losing her friend, the woman raised as her sister. One more loss. Although they hadn’t always been as close as they could have been, MJ didn’t want her to die.

There was nothing she could do. The trip down the mountain wouldn’t be quick enough to save her.

At that moment, MJ heard a helicopter in the distance. She paused to listen, thinking it odd to hear one at dusk. She knew there were Air Force bases in Oklahoma, maybe they were running a training mission. Having decided that, she turned her attention back to Tasha.

MJ had to get her to the car. “This is going to hurt like hell if you wake up,” MJ told the still unconscious Tasha. “So stay asleep.” MJ took an arm, pulling Tasha upright, planning to throw the woman over her shoulders in a fireman hold. That was the only way MJ could carry such dead weight. She cringed at the dead weight thought.

“Don’t worry, I’m not writing you off yet.”

Tasha’s eyes fluttered open before MJ could heft her onto her shoulders.

“Can you ever follow directions, woman?”

Tasha gasped.

“Yeah, it hurts like a son of a bitch, I know,” MJ said. “That’s why I told you to stay unconscious.” Like Tasha had a choice in waking up or not, stupid thought there, MJ. But she swore she felt the scars from her own healed bullet wound throbbing in sympathy, and knew what pain that bullet hole was causing.

“MJ, watch out,” Tasha breathed, her voice barely audible.

“What–” MJ half turned, catching sight of Keith out of the corner of her eye, a rock in his hand.

She tried to lay Tasha back down without dropping her and move out of Keith’s range at the same time. She didn’t make it.

Keith brought the rock down. She twisted. The rock slammed into the back of her neck instead of her head. Still, god damn, it hurt like a bitch. She sank on top of Tasha, pain throbbing through her, vision blurry. She felt herself fading out again, and fought to stay conscious this time.

Keith shoved her over, obviously looking for the gun to finish them off. MJ caught his arm, struggled, calling on deep reserves of strength to hold him off. She would not let him win.

At that moment, a helicopter rose up over the mountain, hovering in the air near them. Keith and MJ both turned to look. Ben stood in the open door of the hovering helicopter, preparing to jump out.

MJ recovered faster. She was still woozy, but she managed to pull the gun free and point it at Keith. Before she could pull the trigger, he knocked it away. She brought her feet up and onto Keith’s chest. She shoved. Keith launched backwards, fell to his butt, then surprisingly executed a very nice back roll.

As he scrambled to his feet, MJ rolled to her knees, pausing on all fours, head hanging, willing her vision to clear. Ben jumped out of the helicopter before it landed and took off after Keith who was half running, half stumbling to the car.

“No,” MJ shouted. Force of will propelled her to her feet. “He’s mine.” She scooped up the .45, took off after Keith. “Take care of Tasha.”

She fired two shots at Keith. One went wide, one hit him in the leg. Limping, he managed to climb into the car.

She heard the engine fire as the ignition turned over. He put the car in gear, and spun out the tires driving straight for her. He was too close. Going too fast. She didn’t have time to aim.

A split second decision. Shoving the gun into the back waistband of her pants, she stood steady while he drove straight for her. She had no doubt he would run her down.

At the last second, she jumped, slamming her body on the car, grabbed the edge of the hood by the windshield wipers.

“Move, MJ, let me get a shot,” Ben yelled.

“No. He’s mine,” she screamed. No way would anyone take him out but her, she thought grimly. She could only trust herself to clean up her mistakes.

Keith jerked the steering wheel, right, left. Her feet went flying the way of the car, but she held a death grip on the hood.

Finally, he gave up trying to knock her off. He threw the car in reverse, backed up until he found a place in the narrow road to spin a 180. Using the time he took to shift back into drive, MJ pulled the gun out of her pants. When he floored the gas pedal again, she nearly lost her grip.

“MJ! Let me get a shot.”

She tried to bring the gun around. She. Had. To. Shoot. Him. She strained her muscles. She couldn’t hold steady.

“MJ! Trust me!”

She was losing her grip.

“Jump. I’ve got a clear shot,” Ben called. “Please, MJ. You can trust me.”

Trust. She had no choice. She took a deep breath. Let go and jumped.

She rolled down the hill, scrambling to stop herself. She thought she heard a shot. When she finally stopped, she paused to breathe and let the pain subside before she struggled to her knees.

Ben still had his gun held in firing position. She swung her gaze to the car. Keith was slumped over the steering wheel, the car crazily jerking on the road until it careened off the mountainside.

Bruised, cut, feeling blood drip into her eye, she staggered to the edge, watched the car bounce down, then explode into a fiery ball at the bottom.

“Goodbye, Keith,” she said. “This time for good.” She sank back to her knees, the adrenaline draining from her body. Exhaustion poured through her. Her muscles shook. She didn’t know if she’d have the strength to ever walk again.

And then Ben was there. His brown eyes locked onto hers. By her side, pulling her to her feet. She sagged against him. He had come for her.

He swung her into his arms, carrying her like a newborn. Or a bride on her wedding night.

Where did that thought come from? Her brain was misfiring obviously.

“Tasha?” MJ questioned.

Ben met her look with a sober gaze. “The medics from S&R are with her. She’s pretty bad.” He carried her toward the helicopter so she could see for herself.

The men placed Tasha on a gurney, an IV already started. MJ buried her head onto Ben’s shoulder, whispering a little prayer for Tasha.

Yes, Tasha had killed those men. But she was a trained killer, that’s what she knew. In Tasha’s mind, killing those men would have been justice. Well-deserved justice.

MJ couldn’t find fault with Tasha’s logic.

* * *

“We’ll have to get another ride,” Ben told her as the medics loaded Tasha into the helicopter.

MJ looked around the peaceful wooded area, a setting for so much violence only moments earlier. Already, as the helicopter lifted, the surroundings seemed to be spreading peace and tranquility. She realized she was falling under some sort of hypnotic spell. She twisted, silently asking to be set down. Maybe she could come to her senses then, stop having fanciful notions.

Ben let her slide to the ground. When her feet touched the dirt, she immediately felt more like herself. Shaky, sore, yes, but not so fanciful.

“Is there another ride?” she asked. “I’d hate to have to walk all the way down.”

Ben cocked his head, listening. “Yes, I believe I hear it now.”

MJ listened as well, heard the distinct sound of a car. She turned and looked at the road. No sign of the car, but she distinctly heard the motor struggling up the steep incline.

“Who is it?”

“My sister.” He took her hand and led her closer to the road.

“Sister. You really have sisters . . .”

“Five of them, yes.”

“That boggles my mind,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “And this would be the cop one?”

“Yes. She’s a detective.” And at that, the sister under discussion drove into view in a dark blue Crown Victoria.

Ben opened the front passenger door and indicated MJ slide in. “Scoot over,” he said, and when MJ scooted over to the middle seat to sit next to his sister, he slid in beside her.

How crowded and cozy, MJ thought.

“That’s my sister,” Ben said as the way of introduction. “This is MJ.”

“I’m Dana,” she said. “Since my
brother
obviously forgot my name.”

“With so many of you, it’s easier to just say sister.”

Dana shook her head and tossed a glance at MJ. “Damn, forgive me for saying so, but you look like hell.”

MJ’s hand went to her face. “I imagine I do.”

“And you say I’m the tactless one,” Ben commented.

“I’d say a stop at the hospital is necessary for you to be checked out.”

“I need to go anyway, my . . . sister is there as well.” MJ realized this was the first time she’d referred to Tasha as a sister and meant it. The last few days they’d grown so close.

“Gunshot, right? I was listening to the radio.” Dana pointed toward her police scanner. “Bad?”

“It appears very bad.”

“I’m sorry. Are you close?”

Ben sighed. “I’m sorry, it appears the whole family is tactless and rude.”

“I think it’s nice,” MJ said and turned to answer Dana. “Just recently, yes, very close.”

“I’m afraid you’re gonna be a bit delayed, though. There’s some man at the bottom waiting, claiming he’s your boss.”

Jeff. MJ and Ben stared at each other then.

Dana pulled to a stop, and before she even turned off the car, Jeff was at Ben’s door, opening it.

He looked past Ben. “You’re all right,” he said to MJ.

“Unfortunately for you.” Anger pounded through her. She knew this man was responsible for the destruction of her life. But damn it, she had no proof, and for now it looked as if he’d walk away unscathed. Without proof, she wouldn’t take action.

Jeff put on a good act of looking innocent. “I have no idea what that means.”

MJ refused to get out of the car, and then she noticed Ben hadn’t budged either, leaving Jeff in the awkward position of bending down to talk to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me Keith was still alive?”

“I didn’t know!” His protest sounded genuine enough, but she reminded herself he was in the business of lying. They all were. Or had been.

“Not the story he told.”

“Whatever he told you were lies.”

“I don’t have proof yet, Jeff, but I’ll get it. You better be watching your ass.”

“Don’t threaten me, MJ.” Jeff’s tone grew hard.

“No,” Ben spoke up with his own warning. “Don’t threaten her. Don’t you do one little thing to mess up that adoption.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Jeff growled.

Ben cocked his head, shrugged and drilled Jeff with his gaze. “Take it as one.”

MJ turned to Dana. “Can we go to the hospital now?”

“Sure thing.” Dana put the car that she’d never turned off into gear, and drove away. Ben shut the door as they left Jeff staring.

* * *

At the hospital, Ben stayed with MJ in the emergency room. A flurry of activity surrounded Tasha, until the nurses and doctors whisked her off to surgery. Ben, with input from MJ, took care of what paperwork he could. Since the police, specifically his relatives he told her, had been involved in the rescue, he had already filled in most of the blanks with the authorities, and he, along with Vista, would take care of any unanswered questions later.

When she was finally escorted into an examining room, Ben stayed with her as the nurse cleaned and made note of MJ’s various wounds. When the doctor showed up, Ben gave MJ a kiss on the forehead and told her he was going to check on Tasha.

Ben came back just long enough to tell her Tasha was still in the OR. “I’m heading to the station to wrap up the last of the reports with Dana,” he said. “I’ll see you again soon.”

The doctor examined her, recommended she be admitted for observation, since she had a nasty knot and cut on the back of her head as well as a gash on her forehead, and then her jaw was no pretty sight either.

When an x-ray showed her brain uninjured, she refused admittance—she’d had worse injuries and survived, and she didn’t want to be away from her daughter one more night. So the doctor stitched her up and signed the paperwork to release her.

MJ found her way to the OR waiting room but saw no sign of Ben. After checking at the nurse’s station and learning Tasha was still in surgery, MJ paced the carpeted floor alone.