Gun drawn, Johnny rounded the corner of the house. He arrived in time to see Gert’s shadowy outline running toward the backyard. Instead of a cigarette holder, she held a slender branch with Spanish moss stuck to the end.
“You little hooligans,” she shrieked. “I told you to skedaddle. More mischief won’t win you any favors from Dr. Rose. And if it’s a look you’re trying to steal, she’s got company. He won’t take kindly to a bunch of juvenile peeping toms prowling about the place.”
A group of four boys, ranging in age from pre-adolescent to mid-teens, merely turned and peppered her with a bunch of small projectiles. Possibly pebbles, but Johnny thought more likely berries by the sound they made when they struck the trees.
“Caleb, Jake, Danny, Sam, you boys stop throwing things at Gert.” Melia strode toward them from what Johnny presumed was the back door. She pointed into the swamp. “Home. Now. All of you. You can come back and wash my house tomorrow.”
The tallest of the four boys stood in the trees with his feet apart and his head bent low. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll come back and clean up. But you should know, Ms. Frye whacked Sam in the behind with her broom this afternoon. Then she whacked the back of his head.”
“Gert!” Melia turned to her housekeeper. “I’ve told you not to do that. Hitting the boys anywhere is wrong, but especially don’t hit them in the head.”
“Hooligans deserve what they get.” Gert brought her branch down on the ground. “And I didn’t mean to hit the boy’s head. He fell when I was taking a second swing at his backside.”
“Go,” Melia said to the uncertain boys. “We’ll sort this out tomorrow.”
Johnny tucked his gun away. He hadn’t decided yet if he was more annoyed or amused by the incident. Bizarre worked as a description of it, but that was largely because of Gert, who was using the branch to probe the weeds at her feet.
Melia started over to where Johnny stood. “Did you lose a shoe or just your cigarette holder ?” she asked her housekeeper.
“Both,” Gert replied. “Cigarette holder cost me a pretty penny.”
“I’ll buy you another one.” Melia didn’t stop or give Johnny any clue as to her intentions. She simply brushed past his arm, grabbed the gun from his waistband, and fired into a clump of cattails. “Snake,” she announced. She returned the gun to his waistband. “Find your shoe and Johnny will walk you home.” She shrugged when he stared at her. “You learn stuff when you live in the Everglades. My father taught me how to shoot when I was five. He said I was a natural. I don’t do it very often, but black snakes are deadly. Gert was poking around really close to it.”
“Right.” Johnny nodded and continued to stare. “I’ll walk Gert home, then do…whatever.” Because for the life of him, at that moment, he couldn’t remember anything other than what he’d just seen about the woman he’d married five years ago. He’d known she could shoot, but he’d never actually witnessed her do it. His mind didn’t so much go blank as spin back to another time.
Melia had intrigued and fascinated him on every level from the moment he met her. She’d been night shifting in an ER in L.A. He’d already been working for McCabe. On the trail of a mercenary gunman who’d killed as many as seventeen people on the West Coast, he and two other guys had wound up shot in various body parts. He’d gotten it in the right side, below his ribs, Laidlaw had taken two bullets in the shoulder, and Dixon had been struck in the head. None of them had known how badly the others had been injured until they’d reached the hospital and were being treated.
Being the new kid on the block, Melia had helped dig the bullets out of Laidlaw, then been sent to deal with Johnny.
“Are you a nurse’s aide?” They’d been the first words out of his mouth when he’d caught sight of her. Because she hadn’t looked old enough to be anything else.
“Thought about it,” she’d replied. “But I like cutting on people better. You’re my first solo. Dr. Martin’s letting me tend to you as a birthday present.”
He’d spotted red-brown hair under the surgical cap she wore. It was coupled with the most amazing gold eyes in creation. He hadn’t had a clue what to say to her. Except…
“How’s Dixon?”
“The one with the head wound?” Her gold eyes had filled with compassion. “He’s still in the OR. Dr. Brady’s performing the surgery. He’s the best.”
“Will he make it?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I could say yes, absolutely, but it’s a tricky surgery. Your other coworker’s fine. We only gave him a local.”
“Can I have a local?”
“Nope.” Her eyes had smiled at him. “You get the full treatment. We should have dealt with you first, but your friend with the shoulder wound was swearing a lot louder than you, and the compression on your side has slowed the bleeding considerably.”
Suspicion had snuck back in. “So you really are a doctor? This isn’t the Hotel California?”
“I am, and not as far as I’m aware. Of course, if this were the Hotel California, I might not be aware of it yet. If it eases your mind at all, I’m quite good at this. Cutting’s my specialty, but I enjoy all areas of medicine.”
“Except nursing.”
“I love nursing. My brother’s an RN. He also played two games in the NHL, for the L.A. Kings. That was back before he mangled his knee and had to switch careers. Are you getting sleepy yet?”
Was she kidding? “Not at all. Tell me more.”
Her eyes had smiled again. “Sorry, can’t. It’s your turn in the OR. I’ll try to leave a small scar. And I’ll play the Eagles while I work.”
“‘Hotel California?’”
“Probably not. My anesthetist has a thing about jinxes. I prefer the Beatles myself.”
“Johnny?” He felt a poke in almost the exact spot where she’d removed the bullet. “Are you zoning out on me?”
“What? No. Yes. No, I was thinking.”
“You were zoning.” She gave him another poke. “Will you please walk Gert home? It won’t take more than five minutes. I have a gun in the house if anyone untoward comes to call. I’ll be fine.”
“I can see that.”
Melia raised her voice. “Gert, forget your cigarette holder. You found your shoe, the Brewer boys are halfway to their farm by now, and Johnny’s going to walk you to the guesthouse.”
He should have said no. Melia was his focus—his sole reason for being in the Everglades. “Lock the doors,” he said. He shook his head when she tried to return his gun. “Keep it. I have backups.”
“There’s a surprise.” But she kept the weapon. Cocking her head at him, she asked, “Why does Ben Satyr hate you so much? You never did explain that to me.”
Johnny gave a grim laugh and raised his gaze to the fluttering treetops. “Among other things, he blames me for the death of someone he loved. Her name was Julie. When you get right down to it, I’m guessing he blames me for a lot of things, both physical and emotional. We’ve known each other for a long time, but most of it circles back to our time in Iraq.”
“Iraq was almost seven years ago, though. Why did it take him so long to decide he wanted revenge?”
“Killing me was never going to be enough. Once he recovered from his physical wounds, I’m guessing he began to plot and plan. Hooking up with Mockerie gave him the money he needed to bring his plans to fruition. By then, you and I were married. I had no idea he’d come after you to get back at me. McCabe figured it out. Don’t ask me how.”
“And the rest appears to be history.” Her voice rose again. “Snake’s gone, Gert. You’ll be fine.” Then she looked straight at Johnny. “So will I.”
Resting his Glock on her shoulder like a rifle, she held his gaze for several seconds before turning and walking back to her house.
…
She could survive a few hours in his company. She had the strength of mind for that, and the willpower. Stay angry, stay focused, keep the conversation impersonal. And for God’s sake, don’t look into his eyes. Those were the rules, and she was determined to stick to them.
“McCabe…” She sighed his name out. “You and Johnny have way too much to answer for.”