Shattered Highways by Tara N Hathcock

Author:Tara N Hathcock [Hathcock, Tara N]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734201802
Publisher: Quiet+Kin Publishing
Published: 2019-11-28T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Logan

Logan sighed and pulled himself back to the present. He couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the past. This was about Quincy, not Jones. Logan couldn’t protect Jones anymore but Quincy? She was still here. And with a shooter gunning for her, he couldn’t afford to lose what little trust she had in him. He was painfully aware, even if she wasn’t, just how close she’d come to dying. He’d followed her, of course, intending to try to calm her down when the shot had been taken. It had been dead on and nothing but dumb luck had prevented it from hitting its mark. Whoever the shooter was, he was a professional and the odds of him missing a second time were non-existent. Logan had already managed to spook Quincy at the cafe. He knew it had been risky to reach out to her. He had observed her enough to know she kept people at arm’s length deliberately and that any obvious push to invade her privacy would be met with instant resistance. But he had spent time with her. First, to assess her as a potential target. Later, to build trust once he realized she was. Maybe it was flattery, but he thought she even kind of enjoyed his company. He definitely enjoyed hers. Probably more than he should, considering she was the mission. He had been sent to observe her, and later, to bring her in when they realized they were right about her and he was soldier enough to know that emotions complicated matters, always. But she seemed so alone and so sad. And so utterly unaware of what was happening. Logan had to agree with Garrison - she clearly had no idea. If he was going to be able to help her, if they were going to be able to help her, he had to do this right.

“The doctors had all but written Jones off by that point. These were all military doctors and nurses you understand, and every one of them had spent years treating combat injuries. To them, it was just one more case of PTSD. Granted, it was a severe case and the symptoms were unusual, but still. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen a dozen.”

It still burned, all these years later, that no one had believed Jones or tried to look deeper.

“I don’t blame them. I think combat medics must be a little traumatized themselves, seeing what they see and doing what they do. But even when you know you sound crazy, when you know you don’t make any sense, you still just want someone to believe you, you know?” he asked, glancing over at her.

Her eyes were locked on his face, absorbing his words. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, though she was clearly thinking something.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I really do.” He thought that might be the most honest thing she had ever admitted to him.

“So anyway, with specialist after specialist giving us the same diagnosis, Jones started spiraling.

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