Blindside

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Authors: Catherine Coulter
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knees, head down, breathing hard.
    “Your back. Oh God, your back!”
    She looked up to see that Miles Kettering had both children pressed against the side of the house, protecting them, just as Agent Savich had told him to. Had he known, too, that the van was going to blow?
    “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” She was on her knees beside him now. “Just hold still.”
    But Savich rose slowly, managed to straighten. “I saw the flames, you didn’t. We survived it. I’m all right.” He could feel the rain hitting his back, feel the pain building and building. He could also feel his blood flowing, and that wasn’t good. He looked over at the van, engulfed in bright orange flames, black smoke sizzling into the air, rain mixing with it, making it filthy black soot.
    “Yeah, sure you are, Agent Savich. You just come with me.” She was leaning down to grasp him under his arm, when she heard Beau yell, “All right, you jerks, it’s my turn now!”
    She whirled around to see Beau leaning against the porch railing, his own gun in his hand. She should have cuffed him—even if she believed he was dead, she should have cuffed him. “You bastard, you killed Clancy! Ain’t nothing left of him but vapor. But now I’m gonna take that boy.”
    Sam was tucked against his father’s leg, Keely against him. Miles pressed the children more firmly against the side of the house, shouted over his shoulder, “Give it up, Beau, just give it up.”

    “Send the boy over, or I’ll have to kill you, Mr. Kettering.”
    “Then do it,” Miles said. “Neither Sam nor Keely is going anywhere.”
    Katie could tell that Agent Savich was going to go after Beau again. She couldn’t let that happen. She watched Beau raise his gun, watched him aim that gun at Miles Kettering. She leaned down, smoothly pulled her derringer from her ankle holster, and fired.
    She got him through the neck.
    “Ah” was all Beau said, clutched his throat, and turned to face her, the gun swinging her way.
    She fired again, this time a death shot, even for a derringer, through his chest. Beau fell off the porch, landing on his back, his eyes open to the rainy night. The orange ball of flame flickered in his open eyes.
    Miles Kettering said, his arms wrapped tight around the children’s heads, “Sam, I’ve got to see to things here. Promise me that you and Keely won’t move an inch. Keep your faces against the house, that van just might blow up some more. Do you hear me? Not an inch.”
    Miles raced down, pulled Savich over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and went into the house. Both children raced after him. Good, she didn’t want them to see Beau.
    “Put him on his belly on the sofa. I’ll call nine-one-one,” Katie said and quickly dialed. She got Marge, who always sounded breathless, told her to get an ambulance out here, and Wade, too, then hung up. “Not more than ten minutes. Now, let’s see how bad you’re hurt, Agent Savich.” But first she’d have to move her daughter aside.
    Savich said, “You’re Keely?” One of his arms was dangling over the side of the sofa, and his feet hung off the other end.
    The little girl gently smoothed her fingertips over his face. “I’m Keely and my mama will take care of you. Shetakes care of everybody. Do you know they pay her to do that?”
    Savich didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of him anyway. It died in a gasp. His back was on fire.
    “I’m glad they pay her, Keely. How bad is it, Sheriff?”
    It was Miles who said, “You’ve got a long horizontal gash, middle of your back, just above your waist, probably from a piece of flying metal. It doesn’t look too deep, Savich, but it’s nasty. You just hang on. Here’s the sheriff.”
    “We need to apply some pressure, Agent Savich—”
    “Just Savich. Or Dillon, that’s what my wife calls me.”
    “Okay, Dillon, I’ll be right back. I’m going to have to put some pressure on this wound and it’s going to hurt,

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