Heath waited until he was sure Camilla was asleep before pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing. He heard the ringing, although only halfway paying attention. Instead, the events from earlier played over and over in his mind, a whole list of “what ifs” leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Hello?”
“Uncle Gator, it’s Heath.”
“Well, well, I haven’t heard from you in forever, boy. You doing okay?”
“I’m good, but I’ve got a friend who’s having a bit of a problem. Hoping you might give me a hand. She’s attracted some unwanted attention that’s escalated into violence, and I think she needs to get out of town for a bit.”
Though it had been ages since he’d seen his uncle face-to-face, he could picture the scowl on his uncle’s face at his words. Etienne “Gator” Boudreau was his dad’s big brother, and he’d been raised with the same morals and values Douglas Boudreau had, ones he’d instilled in all his children. Gator’s sons were all ex-military men, working for one of the premiere security services in the country, run by a man named Samuel Carpenter. Carpenter was a billionaire, with more money than he’d ever spend in several lifetimes, and hired the best. Being part of the Boudreau clan, Heath had met the man several times. Though he wouldn’t say they were bosom buds, he trusted Carpenter and the men who worked for him.
“What kind of trouble are we talking about, son?”
“I’m not sure on all the details yet. Police are investigating, though they haven’t come up with anything. Cam was shot in front of her townhome and ended up in the emergency room with an upper arm injury and a laceration to her head. The injury isn’t serious, more a furrow where the bullet raked a furrow across the skin. The doctor isn’t sure if the head injury came from a bullet graze or from a fall. Apparently, she hit the parking lot pavement after the shooting started. So, it’s unclear whether one or two shots were fired.”
Gator whistled. “What’d she do to have somebody taking potshots at her?”
Heath sighed and raked a hand through his hair, feeling the frustration eating at him. “That’s part of the problem. She doesn’t remember. The emergency room doctor said she’s got something called retrograde amnesia. They did a CAT scan, and it didn’t show any damage. Short story, she can remember everything up through Saturday night. Everything after that until the time she woke in the hospital is gone.”
“Huh. Makes it kinda hard to figure out who wants to hurt your gal if she can’t remember why somebody would be after her in the first place.”
His gal. Heath flung himself onto the sofa and ran his free hand over his forehead. He had the beginning of a headache and wondered if Camilla had any aspirin. Not that he was about to wake her up to find out. He’d explore the bathroom cabinet after he hung up.
Gator wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already figured out, and it was driving him crazy. Finding out who wanted to hurt Camilla topped his list of priorities. Once he hung up from talking with Gator, he’d need to call Officer Dandridge again, and let the cop know his plans for Camilla.
“That’s not the only thing that’s happened, Uncle. I brought her home from the hospital a couple hours ago, thinking to get her settled and do a bit of subtle questioning. Never got the chance. Found a rattlesnake curled up underneath the covers on her bed.”
Gator whistled long and low. “Not something she’d see every day unless she lived out in the country. But you mentioned a townhouse, so I’m guessing no.”
“Cam’s definitely a city girl.” Heath smiled, remembering how much fun he’d had teasing her when she visited the family’s ranch. “One incident I can buy as an accident. Police are investigating the shooting as a botched carjacking, though they now know Cam doesn’t own a car. I’ve been talking to the local cop in charge, name’s Dandridge. Seems to have a decent head on his shoulders, and he’s not taking anything at face value.”
There was a long pause, and Heath pondered what Gator thought, because he knew his uncle had a mind like a steel trap. Known as Mr. Fix-It throughout the environs of New Orleans, he was the go-to guy when you had a problem. Big or small, if Gator considered your situation needed the kind of attention that skirted outside the boundaries of what was deemed socially or legally acceptable, he’d find a way to ameliorate the issue. The stakes increased tenfold if it seemed like there was a damsel in distress. Gator had been known to play the White Knight a time or two.
“Seems to me you might want to consider taking your gal out of town for a while, at least until the authorities can determine who’s after her.” There was the slightest pause before the word authorities, which sent a chill skittering along Heath’s spine, because he had the feeling his Uncle Gator had decided to take an up close and personal look into Camilla’s case.
“That’s why I called you. Whether she likes it or not, Cam’s leaving. I do expect her to put up a fuss, but I think I can convince her to head to the ranch. She’s got family there, but I want to make a couple of detours along the way. Don’t want to take a straight flight, too easy to track. Wondered if we might stay with you for a day or two?”
“I don’t think your gal would be comfortable at our cabin in the bayou, probably a little too back to nature for a city gal. Ranger and Sarah are out of town for a couple of weeks, visiting her folks in San Diego. Bet Ranger wouldn’t mind you using the apartment. Since they bought the bigger house, they’re rarely there anyway.”
Heath felt his muscles relax with his uncle’s suggestion. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d gotten. Guess the situation with the rattler and the knowledge somebody was after Camilla hit a little closer to home than he cared to admit.
“Thanks, Uncle Gator. That takes a weight off my shoulders. I’m going to try and arrange a flight from North Carolina to New Orleans—”
“Stop. If you think somebody’s gonna be checking the airlines, and nowadays anybody can who’s a halfway decent computer user, you don’t want to go that route. I doubt you’ve had time to get acceptable fake ID, so let me handle transportation. Samuel won’t have a problem with me borrowing the company jet. Gimme a couple of hours, and I’ll get back to you with the details.”
“If you’re sure he won’t mind, that’s actually a great idea. I bet Cam will get a kick out of me having access to a million-dollar private jet,” Heath chuckled, imagining the expression on her face. This might actually be fun. Ideas were already spinning of ways to tease and torment her.
“Talk to you soon.”
Gator was gone before Heath even said goodbye.
One more phone call to Dandridge, because he wanted the cop to know he was taking Camilla out of the line of fire, though he wasn’t about to tell him where they were headed. That was on a strict need-to-know basis, and right now Officer Dandridge didn’t qualify for that category.
Next came the hard part. Convincing Camilla to head to Texas—via New Orleans.