The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

“One casualty,” Juan said. “Gretchen took one in the leg. Have Hux get the medical team ready to dig it out.”

“Aye, Chairman. We need to get out of here anyway. There’s an Albanian Coast Guard patrol boat headed our way.” He spun the wheel to head back to the Oregon and gunned the engine while radioing in that the ship should expect visitors.

“What are you going to do with us?” Kula sputtered through the water still streaming from his hair.

“We’ll take you back to our ship and get your kids cleaned up and fed while we have a chat with you. I have a lot of questions about your involvement with the Credit Condamine attack.”

“That wasn’t me. ShadowFoe was the one behind it.”

“Interpol thinks you’re ShadowFoe.”

“That’s what she wanted you to think.”

“She?”

?

?I’ve never met her, of course,” Kula said, “but I think ShadowFoe is a woman. And I’m going to help you find her.”

NINETEEN

By the time the coast guard arrived at Vlorë Castle, Erion Kula and his family were aboard the Oregon, the RHIB was stowed, and the ship had hightailed it out of the area. After making sure Kula’s children and aunt were given fresh clothes and a hot meal, Juan went down to the infirmary to check on Gretchen’s injury.

Julia Huxley, the ship’s Navy-trained chief medical officer, was applying a dressing to Gretchen’s thigh when he arrived in the sick bay. Despite having just attended to Gretchen’s bloody leg, Julia’s customary white lab coat remained spotless as it draped over her voluptuous curves. Her ponytail bobbed as she finished taping the gauze.

“How are you?” Juan asked Gretchen.

“Annoyed with myself. Ten years in the service and I never got shot.”

“Could have been worse. Has she been a good patient?” Juan asked Julia.

Julia smiled. “Could have been worse. She’s a tough one. Refused morphine, so I stuck her with a local anesthetic. The bullet hit the quadriceps, a lateral through and through. Luckily, the round didn’t tumble, so there was no serious damage, although it’s going to hurt like a mother when the anesthetic wears off.”

“Can she walk?”

“I wouldn’t recommend running any marathons for a few weeks, but she should be hobbling around just fine in a day or so.”

“A day or so?” Gretchen said. “I’m not waiting here that long. We have to interrogate Whyvern.” When she sat up, the cut-open flap of her pant leg flopped to the side. She looked down at her exposed leg and said, “Maybe I should get changed first.”

“Already took care of it,” Juan said, handing her a clean change of clothes and shoes that he had fetched from her cabin. She took them and ducked behind the curtain.

“How did the kids look to you?” Juan asked Julia as he waited. She had checked them over before tending to Gretchen’s wound.

“Malnourished and scared, but they shouldn’t have any lasting physical effects. The aunt looks pretty haggard and bruised, but she refused an examination. I’d like to string up whoever did this to them.”

“Don’t worry. Their captors got the worst of it. They won’t be bothering anyone again.”

Julia glanced at the curtain and lowered her voice. “So this is the missus, huh?”

“Fake missus. I had a real missus at the time we were partnered up.”

“Oh” was all Julia said, though her raised eyebrow invited more info that Juan wasn’t about to share.

“I’m ready,” Gretchen said as she pulled back the curtain. Her leg gave way suddenly, and Juan rushed over to keep her from toppling onto the floor. He put his arm around her waist while she leaned a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for the patch job, Doc,” Gretchen said.

Julia stuck a bottle of pills in her hand. “Take one of these if the pain gets too bad.”