Page 39 of Isla by Any Other Name

The doctor came after lunch. She asked Isla about how she was feeling, then deemed it anxiety. She gave Isla a bottle of Valium and told her to use it if she felt the need. But Isla didn’t plan on it. She was struggling, yes, but she wanted to have her wits about her.

What she needed was to lean into routine. So Isla and Mitch spent the next two days doing what they always did—walking the beach, working out, making meals. It was Friday morning and they had decided to head back to Virginia on Saturday. All had been quiet for the last week. Either Hernandez had given up or his goons just couldn’t find them.

Mitch walked into the kitchen. “Ready for our walk?”

“Sure thing. I just need to grab my jacket.” Putting it on, she smiled. “Maybe our last walk on the beach.”

“It will be,” said Mitch. “Tomorrow we leave by seven. We want to be back by three.”

“Remember you promised me a Christmas tree.”

“I’ll call Jax this morning and see what he can do for us.”

“Thanks, Mitch,” she said as they walked out onto the deck. She breathed in the salt air and sighed. “It is beautiful here, but I just want to go home.”

“I know you do, sweetheart,” he said.

Bang.

Chapter twenty-one

Mitch had just made it to the last step when he was thrown backward. A sharp burning pain radiated through his shoulder. He heard Isla scream as she fell beside him. Max ran out onto the deck with his gun drawn, followed by Dirk and Colt.

“Where the hell—” Mitch looked out at the water. “That boat out there, it had to have come from that boat. It’s the same boat I saw the other day.” He grabbed the gunshot wound and winced as blood flowed through his fingers. “Everyone in the house! It looks like we’ve been found. Get ready to move.”

Colt helped him up and supported him as he ran up the stairs. Isla ran behind them, Dirk shielding her body with his own. “Mitch, I need to look at your shoulder before we go anywhere,” she said, oddly calm.

Once in the house, Colt sat Mitch on the barstool and Lara came out of the control room with a first aid kit. Isla pulled the bloody shirt off him. Lara handed him a clean towel and ran to the sink to get a bowl of water, so she could clear away the blood. “It looks like it went right through the muscle. Are there sutures in there, Lara?”

“There are. What else do you need?”

“Peroxide if you have it.”

“Got it, and here’s some gauze pads and tape.”

Mitch’s vision was blurring at the edges, but he just focused on Isla’s face. She was a nurse. She knew what to do. She would make it better. Her voice came to him as if from across the room even though she was right next to him. “Mitch, this is going to hurt, but I need to stitch this now. Unless you want us to take you to the hospital.”

“No time for the hospital,” he sputtered. “Just do it. I’ll be fine.”

Isla started stitching. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the sides of his face. But he wouldn’t flinch. He didn’t want her to know the pain he was in.

“Pack up—we’re out of here,” Mitch directed, his vision snapping back into focus. “Colt, did you call Agent Walters?”

“I did—they’re en route. ETA three minutes and we’ll have backup. The Coast Guard has been called as well.”

“We don’t have time to pack,” Mitch ordered. “We’re out of here. Load up.”

Isla finished patching him up ten minutes later. “How are you?”

“I’ve had worse,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mitch, you were just shot! You are not fine.”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Mitch, you can’t drive.”

“I can—let’s go.”