California Schemin' - Kate George [72]
I opened the driver’s door and popped the lock. I was beyond caring. Madison was a Fed. She could handle herself, and Hambecker wouldn’t let any real harm come to her. I hoped. I opened the back door and dragged Guy out of the car.
“What are you doing? I don’t want out of the car. I might get shot.”
“Saving myself. You’re on your own. Good luck.” I pushed him away from the car, slammed the passenger door, and slid into the driver’s seat, hitting the locks before he could get back in. The car was standard. That made things a lot more interesting. Good thing I’d kicked the bad guy out. I was going to need to concentrate.
I shoved in the clutch and started the car. With my right hand on the stick shift my left hand couldn’t reach the steering wheel. Great. I put the car in reverse, let out the clutch, and gingerly backed around, careful not to take Madison out with the rear of the car.
I shifted into first, got my hands on the wheel and pulled the car forward onto the road going the opposite way. I was heading to the hospital. As I started forward, a fleet of black cars swarmed up the road. After them came a couple of forlorn sheriff’s cruisers with lights flashing and sirens blaring. They didn’t block my way, so I inched past, risking a glance in the rearview as I went. Hammie and Moose had completely disappeared. I stopped the car and turned around, but it wasn’t my imagination. They were completely gone. The four-wheeler stood where I left it, Madison was still planted with gun leveled and the other two thugs had their hands held high. I couldn’t see where the thug’s gun had gone, but I assumed it was on the ground at Madison’s feet.
As I started forward again the armada came to a halt, and almost immediately the area was crawling with agents. Time for me to be gone. I eased the car forward and drove down the hill like a little old lady. It took forever for me to reach the freeway, and driving the interstate in handcuffs gave me the heebie-jeebies. It wasn’t long before I reached the hospital exit and finally pulled into the emergency parking lot. I slid into a space next to the Jeep, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and walked through the sliding doors into the emergency waiting room. The handcuffs made me feel conspicuous, like a criminal, and I was happy to see Wendy and Paris huddled in a corner.
“Do you need us to remove those cuffs?” The receptionist sounded bored, like people with cuffs walked into the emergency room every day.
“Uh, yeah. That’d be great.”
“You’ve got to register, then.” She handed me a clipboard and a pen. Turns out writing with your hands in cuffs is tricky when you’re trying to hold a clipboard. I set it on the counter and had better luck holding the papers still with my left arm while I wrote with my right. I skipped over the part about how I got the injury. I had my doubts that they’d remove them if they knew some kind of special agent put them on me.
“How did you get that bruise on your cheek? That’s a doozey.”
“Had a minor fender bender. It’s nothing.”
“Have a seat. It’ll be a few minutes.”
“Bree!” Wendy jumped up and threw her arms around me. “We were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What’s this?” She grabbed my arm. “How did you get cuffs on you?”
“Richard Hambecker. Where’s Beau? Getting a new cast on?”
“They were giving him the third degree about how he got all banged up.” Paris patted the seat beside her. Wendy and I sat down, our backs to the room.
“But why did Richard cuff you?” asked Paris.
“Didn’t want me to leave, I guess.” I decided not to blow his cover in front of the girls. “But I took off anyway. Didn't want to stick around for the firefight.”
“Firefight?” Wendy looked at me wide-eyed.
“Madison Truefellow, I don’t know if you know her, she’s the woman who showed up and locked Guy in her car. She had her gun out ready to mow down anyone who moved, and