“Of course, Mr. Hayes. Have a nice day.”
The line disconnected and Tracy stared at the phone for a moment.
“What was that?”
“Private security,” Mr. Hayes answered, as if it were obvious.
“Why the hell didn't you bring them to this?” Tracy shouted. She glared at him, but he was focused on keeping the gun pointed at the unconscious man. Right now, he was their only lead.
“Because John said to come alone,” Mr. Hayes replied, his voice aggravatingly patient. “I have no doubt that he would have discovered them. I'm honestly surprised he didn't know you were here.”
“Well, I'm sneaky,” Tracy said, holding her arm. Somehow, it hurt more now than when she was first shot. “Plus, no one looks twice at a crappy old car. There's a reason I didn't drive the Porsche.”
Mr. Hayes smiled. “That's my girl.”
He was going to say more, but the heavy hum of a helicopter stopped him. Tracy now understood how the security team was arriving so quickly. They were flying in.
Tracy gripped her arm while she waited for the helicopter to land. Luckily, the parking lot was empty as it was still ridiculously early. There were no workers yet, so the helicopter had ample space. She closed her eyes from the dust and waited for the blades to slow.
Everything moved in a blur. Men in dark uniforms with weapons took the gun from Mr. Hayes and bound the hands of the man from her dreams. He disappeared off somewhere and Tracy was sure she did
n't want to know where he went. One of the men pulled her aside and poked and prodded her arm, making sure that it was just a flesh wound.
“You'll need stitches,” he told her, carefully wrapping her arm in a bandage. Crimson quickly seeped through the pristine white. “Luckily, the bullet just grazed you. You must have a guardian angel looking out for you.”
Tracy laughed at that. She'd heard it before. Her guardian angel needed to work on its skills. Getting hit by a drunk driver and shot within the same year couldn't be the mark of a good angel. She was going to need to speak with whoever was in charge one of these days.
“How are you doing?” Mr. Hayes asked her, leaving the group of uniformed men working on a computer.
“I've had better days,” Tracy replied. “I could really go for some breakfast, though. Getting shot makes me hungry.”
Mr. Hayes chuckled and kissed her forehead. She leaned into him, drawing strength from him. Her arm ached, despite the medicine the medic had given her. Someone had said something about the doctor being delayed, but as long as the medicine kept working she didn't care.
“I'm just glad you're okay,” he whispered. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“You'd probably have to sell the restaurant,” she teased. He gave her a stern look.
“Not funny, Tracy.”
“Sir, we got him!” One of the men in uniform called out, interrupting their moment. “He's heading west on the highway.”
“I want him intercepted,” Mr. Hayes told him. He gave Tracy a quick kiss on the forehead. “You stay here. The doctor should be here shortly.”
“Stay here?” Tracy asked, not following. “Where are you going?”
“To bring down John Tice,” Mr. Hayes answered. The helicopter blades started to spin as several of the men piled back into the helicopter.
“Like hell I'm staying here,” Tracy said, staggering to her feet.
“Tracy-” Mr. Hayes started.
“No. I need to see this finished,” she told him stubbornly. “Besides, look what happened the last time you tried to leave me behind.”
Mr. Hayes frowned. “Please tell me you don't have a helicopter stashed around here that you're going to follow me with.”
“It would please me.”
Mr. Hayes sighed. “But you stay in the helicopter the whole time, understand?”