Page 66 of High Treason
“I can plaster on a Band-Aid.”
Ali took the load with the toolbox in the other hand, and she laughed. “Thanks.”
“Miss Alden. I have never seen a woman with your skills. I’m impressed.”
“I grew up in a family of boys, climbed trees, fished, played baseball, and hunted instead of learning girl things.”
“You don’t cook?”
She laughed again, one way she relieved stress. “I can roast and brew a mean cup of coffee, and I can bake, but not cook.” She noted Kord’s blood-soaked jacket sleeve. “You need that tended to ASAP. Infection can set in real fast.”
“I requested an ambulance,” Ali said. The man had spoken more in the last thirty minutes than the entire time she’d been there. “Kord has a reputation for not seeking medical attention.”
“Do you have firsthand knowledge of some of his exploits?”
“Zain told me plenty.”
She softened her tone. “I’d like to hear them.”
“Ask Kord. I’m sure he’d play the hero.”
“I’m right beside you,” Kord said. “My hearing’s just fine.”
“I remember you running barefoot after a man who attempted to assault the prince,” Ali said.
“In Saudi?” she said. “Why was he barefoot?”
“Actually, he’d just stepped out of the—”
“Never mind, Ali. Monica doesn’t need to hear that story. Are you getting all Western on us?”
“I think so.”
The bantering between the two men relieved the apprehension she’d once had for Ali’s reasons for protecting the prince. Ali’s staying close while she disarmed the bomb had garnered a huge load of respect for him.
“Kord, who called you when we were back there?”
“SAC Thomas. Left a voice mail.”
Curiosity about Special Agent Kord Davidson swirled warm through her. The more she discovered about him, the more she admired. At the outset, he’d been against her as his partner. Andwhen she learned he and Prince Omar were friends, she understood he felt responsible for what had happened, although it wasn’t his negligence but the work of a killer. Yet he’d demonstrated courage and wisdom with his priority as a federal agent in a case that had the potential of serious implications. A twinge of undeniable attraction had crept into her heart. Memories of Liam slammed into her brain, and she swept personal thoughts about Kord under a rug called “detonated dreams.”
A paramedic treated his left arm. Thankfully, the bullet had taken a hunk of flesh but not embedded. He refused a ride to the hospital and requested they bandage him up.
“He needs a tetanus shot,” she said. His type usually let precaution slide. She should know.
“You’re in luck. We have one.” A young paramedic turned to Kord. “When’s the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Kord?” Monica felt as though she were talking to one of her burly brothers. “I saved your rear. Take the shot.”
And he did.
After the boxes of food were loaded and the agents drove away, Prince Omar approached them on the terrace with Saad, Wasi, and four police officers. Even with a bomb nearly sending him to pieces, the prince walked proudly. Sort of reminding her of a lion. Kord explained what happened and his role of alerting law enforcement and contacting the security company that allowed the van to enter and exit the property.
Kord nodded at the officers. “Has the driver been arrested?”
“HPD and the FBI have men on it,” an officer said. “The original driver was found unconscious by a Dumpster at the food distribution center, and the van had been abandoned in a downtown alley. The FBI has sent a team to sweep it.”
