Page 19 of Innocent Target

She leaned her head back on the headrest, rubbing her eyes as she sighed. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

That she’d even admitted it told him just how tired she was. Reaching out, he took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze, causing her to look up. She gave him a wan smile but held on to his hand, giving him a warm feeling in his chest. Something about this strong, proud woman made him want to protect her, to take the weight she insisted on carrying alone, and show her he could help ease whatever burden she had weighing her down.

“Why don’t you give Nick the address and get some sleep while you can?”

Mercy sat up straight as if she remembered Nick was there, snatching her hand away as she did. “I need to call ahead and make sure my friend is home and can help us.”

Apprehension lit her eyes as she glanced at him. She didn’t want to do this. The call she was about to make hurt her in ways he didn’t understand but wanted to.

Why was it always one step forward ten back with this stubborn woman who buried into his heart deeper with every second he spent with her? She’d risked her life to keep him and Abbie safe and much as it had hurt him to get out of that car and let her drive away from him—he had because he trusted her, dammit.

When would she trust him? It was a question he wouldn’t be getting the answer to any time soon.

Yet as he half-listened to the call she made to a man he had no idea about he had the feeling he was about to get an insight into Mercy that she’d never intended on giving any of them—ever.

Chapter Ten

Her chest felt so tight Mercy found it challenging to draw a full breath, let alone relax.

Abbie had been fussy until she’d finally settled in her car seat. As soon as calm had returned, James had been on the phone with Shane and Emme, relaying the latest information and their destination, while planning to get everything necessary for Abbie ready by tonight with everything shipped to Jacksonville Beach, and Ian Guthrie’s home.

It had been forever since she’d last spoken to Ian, let alone seen him. After the shootout, tragedy had struck again, but this time at the hospital where they discovered that a bullet had severed Ian’s spinal cord and his chances of recovering were slim. Seeing him in his wheelchair, surrounded by his family, had almost been too much to bear. Mercy was still awaiting another round of surgery when Ian had transferred to a specialized center where he could get more treatment and therapy.

Ian had been the one who’d kept in contact with her when she was choked with guilt. Her former partner’s morale had been unbreakable. His wife Marnie had been his rock, and together with his two teenaged kids, they formed a fierce family unit.

They’d all relocated to Jacksonville Beach, where some of Ian’s siblings were still living. Several times he’d told her she was welcome at his place, that he really wanted to see her, but she’d always found good reasons to delay or deflect. Good reasons were plenty as she’d quit the force at the same time.

Ian had been surprised by her call but understood the situation immediately and told her to come. Now, they were minutes from arriving, and Mercy was working hard at just surviving the flood of emotions threatening to drown her.

“Shane is planning to have security increased around your friend’s house, discreetly, as we don’t know who in the chain of command leaked our location. Oh, and Nick will bring us clothing and baby stuff tonight. He wanted to go to the rental house and retrieve our stuff, but Emme thought someone might be watching the roads to it. So, instead, they plan to stalk our stalkers. If we can figure out where their base is, we might be able to check who’s going in and out and plug our leak at the source.”

“Wise move. We don’t even know if a tail has followed us here too.”

“You took enough turns to make anyone following us dizzy. To be honest, I’m more worried about you. You’ve been awfully quiet since we left Daytona. I know I was on the phone most of the way, but I have eyes. Spit it out, Broussard, what’s bothering you?”

Mercy turned onto a quaint neighborhood street and parked at the very end of it with a sigh. Ian’s home was to her right, and she couldn’t even look at it, and to her utter horror, tears welled up.

“Hey, hey! Mercy, what’s going on?” James’s deep voice was filled with worry as he unfastened his seatbelt to inch closer to her. “And if you say nothing, I swear you’re going to regret it.”

A half-laugh made its way through the tears. “Must be putting two stupid bikers down that’s getting to me.”

When she lifted her head, the expression on James’s face was closed off, his eyes glacial. “Mercy, you know I care about you, even more than you think, but I’m done having you shutting me out. We all have scars and nightmares that haunt us, it’s part of who we are. I have plenty of my own, and that’s exactly what partners are for, to support one another with them.”

Stunned, Mercy watched him get out of the car and get Abbie. “Don’t worry, I’ll call Shane and ask that Nick takes over when he brings our stuff.”

Getting out of the car, Mercy couldn’t say a thing as Abbie started crying and she saw movement from the house.

James was marching toward the house as Ian wheeled himself down the ramp toward the driveway. James offered him his hand and smiled, exchanging a few words with Ian before he gestured toward the house, probably asking where he could take care of Abbie.

Without a backward glance, James disappeared inside, and before she could process anything he’d said, Mercy was face to face with Ian for the first time in years.

Words stuck in her mouth. Mercy’s last image of him had been his drawn, pale face, filled in pain on his hospital bed, and soon after, he’d left for the rehabilitation center. Now, he was in a high-tech black wheelchair, arms crossed, all fire and muscles, just as she remembered him, especially his smile.

When he cocked his head, she noticed the car was holding her up and that she and Ian had been staring at each other for much longer than it was polite.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you were scared, kid.”

Only with one sentence, the man brought her back when they were patrolling the dark alleys of New Orleans. “I’ve only been scared of one thing in my life, and you were never it, old man.”