Chapter Three

Givon hung up his phone, again, already tired of all the calls. Usually Destiny, Wyoming wasn’t this exciting. Most of the time he was dealing with either some sort of cattle issue or drunk driving. But just remembering the girl face down with blood covering her skin made his blood run cold. She was still in surgery—had been for the past couple of hours—and he looked for a nurse to get an update.

“Excuse me,” he asked the girl at the front desk. “Do you have any sort of update on the girl with the gunshot wound?”

The nurse typed something into her computer then made a phone call. She murmured a few things then hung up to give him one of those practiced, pleasant smiles.

“She’s in Recovery. Her surgery went fine and the doctor should be out in a few minutes to go over everything with you.”

“Great,” he murmured, relieved. A weight slid off his shoulders. He really hadn’t wanted to investigate her murder. He sent a quick text to North that she was going to be okay but a second later, he watched several members of the Wolves walk into the ER. He recognized all of them, including John Draven, who was North’s second-in-command. When Draven turned around, he met Givon’s eyes and made a quick beeline for him.

“Hey, man,” Draven greeted. “Why’re you here?”

“Gunshot victim,” Givon answered. “You?”

“Nick had a heart attack.”

Givon knew Nick Pauls was one of the original members of the club and a decent enough guy. Givon shook his head sorrowfully. “Sorry to hear that. Does North know?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Draven nodded. “Thanks, man.”

Just then, the surgical doctor walked into the waiting room and gestured for Givon.

“Excuse me, Draven. Seems like my case has an update.”

Draven glanced at the doctor. “Sure thing.”

Givon hurried over to the surgeon.

“I’m Dr. Blake,” the man said. He gestured to a hallway. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Givon followed him into a spacious office and sat in a chair across from the desk.

“She came through the surgery fine,” Dr. Blake reported. He held up a biohazard red baggie. “It’s the bullet. I believe she was turning away when she was shot, because it lodged sideways into the latissimus dorsi muscle of her back near her spine, missing her ribs as well as any major organs. If you’re going to get shot, this is the way to do it. She’s one lucky woman.”

Givon took the bag and let the quick rush of relief slide over him. “Was she raped?”

“No. I had a GYN check her over.”

Givon experienced a second wave of gratitude. “Thank God. Getting shot in the back is bad enough. I’m glad she doesn’t have to recover from a rape as well. I’m going to post a protection detail at her room.”

“I understand. Any clue to her name or who she is?”

Givon shook his head and stood. “Unfortunately not. Do you mind if I sit with her?”

“She just woke up in Recovery so she’ll be in and out consciousness for a while, but I have no problem with you sitting with her. She’s on the third floor, room three-eleven,” Dr. Blake said, holding out his hand.

Givon shook it before exiting the office. He headed toward the elevators. Just before the door closed, he spotted North enter the waiting room.

The woman’s room was dark. A nurse just finished attaching the fluid bag to an IV pole as he entered. He stood to one side, studying the unconscious Jane Doe lying in the hospital bed. Without the dirt and mud, he finally saw her face, which caused a strange tightness in the pit of his stomach. The bruise on her cheek couldn’t hide the delicacy of her features or her beauty and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. When the nurse left, he edged closer until he stood next to her bedside.

Closed, her eyes were almond-shaped with arched eyebrows, highlighting her Native American ancestry. Her nose was small and slightly upturned on the tip while her lips were full and tempting. Perhaps he was the biggest asshole in history standing there ogling her while she lay recuperating from almost being murdered, but there was something about her that brought out his protective instincts. He grabbed the chair in the corner and pulled it close to her bed. He sat but it didn’t seem close enough, so he picked up her hand and gently enfolded it in his.

He sat for an hour or so, just watching her. The machines around her were almost hypnotic and it lulled him into a light doze. Movement of her hand brought him wide awake and slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. The deepest, darkest, most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen turned to meet his gaze. She stared at him in confusion until she looked around the room then fear and fright settled on her face.

“You’re safe,” he assured her in a low, soothing tone. “I’m Sheriff Givon Halloran of Destiny. Can you tell me your name?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. When she made a drinking motion with her free hand, he let go of her other one to pour her some water. He stood up to help her, adjusting the straw so she could drink easier.

Once she’d gotten her fill, she relaxed onto her side and Givon set the plastic cup on the C-arm table that straddled her bed. He sat again and picked up her hand to hold once more.

“My friend North and I saved you from that man,” he said. “Brought you here to the hospital. You were in surgery for a while but you’re going to be okay.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes. “He was going to kill me.”

“You ran away from him. Luckily, far enough away to save your life. You were very brave, sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?”

“Allison,” she said. “But I go by Allis.”

“What’s your last name?”

She opened her mouth to answer, thought about it then finally answered, “Smith.”

He didn’t miss her hesitation and it didn’t give him warm and tingly feelings knowing that she was hiding her identity. But he figured he’d deal with that later. “Hello, Allis,” he said. “I’m Givon.”

“You said that already.”

“So I did,” he replied, smiling. He’d let her keep her secrets for now. “Can you tell me who the man was? Why did he hurt you?”

“I’ve been working in a bar in Durango,” she told him. “He’d been hanging around for a few days, annoying me. I was closing up last night—around two in the morning—and he attacked me. Hit me. I woke up in his van, half-naked and tied up. He was gone. I managed to work the ties off my wrists and when he came back, I got the jump on him and ran into the woods. I just kept running. I didn’t know where I was. Then…I guess he shot me. I remember pain and that’s it.”

“Durango is close to Casper,” he said. “Up Highway Twenty-five. You’re in Destiny.”

She grimaced a little before her brow soothed out. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Other side of Riverton. Is there anyone we can call for you? Family? Friends?”

“No one,” she whispered and closed her eyes. “I’ve got no one. He would’ve killed me and no one would’ve cared.”

A tear escaped her eye and ran down her temple. Givon gently wiped it away and she opened those sultry eyes of hers to capture his gaze. Something kicked him in the chest and he was helpless to look away. The air between them grew thick, heavy, but with what, he hadn’t a clue. Whatever it was, it unnerved him enough for him to let go of her hand and stand. She was injured, recovering from a traumatic experience, so what the hell was he thinking?

“You rest now.” His voice had gone a little gruff from the unexpected and completely inappropriate lust that seized him. “I’ve got a guard on duty at your door. You’ll be safe.”

“Th-thank you.” She bit her lower lip. “Will you come back?”

“Of course.”

He gave her one more strained smile and left the room. Jack was waiting outside her door. Givon walked up to the young deputy.

“You guard her room,” he told the man. “I’m not kidding about this, Jack. I don’t have anyone else right now.”

“Okay, sir,” Jack quickly replied.

“Hospital personnel, us, only relevant people. Got it?”

“Got it.”

A while ago, some information had been stolen from his desk. Although no evidence pointed toward Jack, Givon couldn’t help but be suspicious. Since his other three deputies were occupied, he didn’t really have a choice. Givon could stay himself but he was unnerved by her in a primitive, sexual way, and damned if that didn’t make him feel guilty.

* * * *

North immediately saw his crew when he stepped into the ER. The worry shown in their faces and he shared it. Nick was the unofficial nurturer of the pack—the one everyone turned to for advice—and not having him there hurt like a kick in the gut.

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, focusing on Draven.

“No, nothing yet,” Draven said. “Tina’s on her way.”

“Okay,” North muttered and ran a hand over his face. “It’s been a long goddamn night.”

Pete, the club’s treasurer, walked over from the admitting desk with a stack of papers, a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. Like Nick, he was one of the old timers as well, with gray heavily peppering his hair and beard.

“There’s a snafu,” he announced in a low tone.

North hated hearing that word. Pete liked to use it often when he discussed money or the lack there of. “What now?”

“Looks like Nick’s insurance only pays sixty percent of hospital coverage,” he said, looking over the rim of his glasses like a dour schoolmaster. “Nick’s going to have to come up with the forty percent.”

“Is that like a discount?” Nimrod asked. “You know, sixty percent off the ticketed price?”

The other members stared at him for a long moment. North blinked and turned back to Pete. It wasn’t even worth trying to explain.

“Doesn’t matter,” North told him. “Pack takes care of their own.”

Pete shook his head. “We don’t have it, North.”

“What do ya mean, we don’t have it?” Draven demanded. “Tina works part-time at Walmart and Nick lives off social security. They don’t have the forty percent.”

“And I said neither do we,” Pete stressed. “The club is almost broke. We haven’t had a protection run in two months.”

“We’ll borrow it from the shop,” Draven argued.

“The tattoo shop barely breaks even,” Pete stated. “And most of the revenue is from all of us getting new tats!”

Tina rushed into Emergency and North put up a hand, halting everyone immediately. “Tina’s here. Let’s pick this back up in church later.”

Draven and Pete nodded. Pete folded up the hospital papers and placed them inside his cut. North went to Nick’s wife, Tina, and hugged her. Her body shook with sobs and his heart broke. He prayed to God that Nick would pull through, because damned if North was ready to let another member go. Losing Patch had been difficult enough. No way was he ready to say goodbye to someone else.

Givon stepped off the elevator and their gazes met. He gave a little nod and turned toward the cafeteria. North pulled back from Tina and tilted her head up.

“We’re with you, Tina,” he told her. “You know that, right? You don’t worry about a thing, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. You’re a good man. A good leader for the club.”

He kissed the top of her head then motioned for Draven to come over. He turned Tina over to his VP before following Givon. He suspected whatever it was he wanted to talk about had to do with the girl.

He caught up with Givon in line ready to pay for a steaming cup of coffee and waited until he’d finished the transaction. Then they found a table in the far corner to sit.

“How’s Nick?”

North shrugged and let out a weary sigh. “Still in surgery. Today’s the day for them, I guess.”

“The woman made it through,” Givon said. “She’s resting in room three-eleven, third floor.”

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah. Her name is Allison, goes by Allis. Says she was working in a bar in Durango and some crazy patron abducted her. She escaped and ran, then he shot her.”

North nodded. “All right. We need to find this sick bastard.”

“She gave me a false last name,” Givon said, causing North to frown. “Said it was Smith.”

“How do you know that’s false? Lots of people are named Smith.”

“She hesitated. And my gut tells me she’s lying.”

“There are a lot of reasons to give a false last name,” North reasoned. “Number one being she’s probably scared as fuck. After all, she was shot in the back and was going to be buried alive.”

“I know.” Givon groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Shit.”

North had known Givon a long time, but he didn’t recognize the agitation on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong with you? You’re normally the level-headed one out of us.”

“I…ah…just had this draw to her,” Givon stated, although he looked ashamed for spilling his guts.

Now he was confused. “Draw?”

Givon gave a shake of his head. “Forget it. I’m just tired. Listen, I’m going back to the site. I sent Charlie there to set up crime scene tape and start collecting evidence but I want to have a look around as well.”

North was acutely aware of the broken necklace in his pocket but he didn’t say a word about it. There wasn’t anything going to come from a little charm and besides, he wanted to get it fixed and give it back to the girl—to Allis.

“Who’s guarding her?” he asked.

“I have only Jack,” Givon replied. “Can you go check on her later? I should be back in a few hours. I also have to run this bullet to Riverton for analysis. I don’t want her to feel abandoned.”

“Sure.”

Givon hesitated and nodded toward the ER. “You need me for anything, you let me know. Okay?”

“Thanks, Giv,” North murmured.

He watched his friend leave, wondering what he meant by feeling a draw toward the girl. Were his protective feelings coming out for her too? When he heard his name being called, he shook off his musings and hurried back to his club.