by Gail Barrett
All that seemed to make sense. But why would Delgado kill Colonel Hoffman? Had the colonel found out about the murders? Was Delgado trying to keep him from revealing the truth? But why kill him now, after Lieutenant Lewis had caught on to his activities—when it wouldn’t do any good?
Blowing out his breath in frustration, Parker ran through the facts again. Vern Collins was Hoffman’s partner. Collins had left the force after Tommy’s case was closed, due to a sexual harassment charge...which in itself was rather odd. There hadn’t been that many women on the force back then. And sexual harassment had been a hot topic, mandating sensitivity training and workshops. Even the most bullheaded officers had understood that any insinuation of harassment could ruin their careers.
Parker’s gaze went to Brynn. She stood beside the bed, a frown creasing her face, that bruise standing out in sharp relief on her pale cheek. He shifted his gaze to Lieutenant Lewis, who was walking back across the room.
A memory floated at the edge of his awareness, something he couldn’t quite grasp. Something about Lieutenant Lewis... She stopped beside the bed and met his eyes. And, suddenly, it clicked into place. “You were there, too—in Homicide, back when Tommy died.”
Surprise rippled across her face. She whipped open her leather bag and pulled out a gun—with a suppressor screwed on the end. “Don’t move.” The gun swerved between Brynn and him.
He stared at her aghast, the realization sinking in they were trapped in the room with a killer.
Why hadn’t he figured it out before?
He stole a glance at Brynn. Her eyes were dark with shock.
“That’s right,” Lieutenant Lewis confirmed. “I’d been detailed there.”
On temporary duty—which explained why she wasn’t on the list. There would have been a personnel order floating around back then assigning her to the unit, but until she was posted there permanently, they wouldn’t have entered her name in the books. “And they didn’t pick you up.”
The lieutenant’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t want to stay there. I wanted something bigger than homicide. Intelligence was a better choice.”
Of course. And an EEOC victim—the victim of an Equal Employment Opportunity Commission violation—had power. The commissioner would have bent over backward to avoid adverse publicity, giving her any job she desired.
Then another realization sank in. “You invented the charge.”
Her mouth formed a little smirk. “Collins was a fool, like most men are. It was easy to set him up.”
And it began to make sense. The person behind the pillar in the warehouse had been a woman—a tall, thin woman—not a man. “You were the gang leader, the one who ran the City of the Dead.”
“No, I wasn’t. I never belonged to the gang. I don’t approve of that type of thing.”
“But you killed Allen Chambers.”
“I had to. My cousin Dustin got in over his head. He didn’t understand what being in a gang really meant. And when they ordered him to execute that man, he chickened out.”
“The other gang member was your cousin?” Hell, no wonder he’d looked familiar. He’d resembled Terry Lewis, a woman Parker had known for years. They had the same oddly narrow face.
She shook her head. “I told you, I wasn’t a gang member. But I had to bail Dustin out. The gang would have killed him if he didn’t come through. And I’d practically raised him. He was my only family. I couldn’t let him die.”
“So you shot Allen Chambers,” Brynn said, her voice trembling. “And then you killed Tommy.”
The lieutenant curled her lips. “Allen Chambers was a heroin addict, a useless piece of humanity. And Tommy...” She shrugged. “He got in the way.”
Parker worked his jaw, struggling to control his own rage now. “He was my brother.”
The lieutenant spared him a look of disdain. “He would have died sooner or later. You know what the mortality rate is for drug addicts. I did him a favor, just like Chambers. I saved them both from an overdose.”
Parker stared at her in shock, her complete lack of remorse robbing him of words. He’d worked side by side with this woman for years. He’d respected her. He’d admired her moral rectitude. And she’d murdered his brother without a flicker of guilt.
“And then you tried to kill me,” Brynn cut in, sounding just as numb. “You tried to kill my friends.”
“That was your own fault. You never should have been there that day. And you took those photos.”
“Which you destroyed,” Parker said, drawing her attention back to him.
Terry Lewis sighed. “I told you. I didn’t have any choice. I had to protect Dustin. And there was no way I was going to prison for killing an addict. He was worthless. No one cared if he died. I did the world a favor by getting him off the streets.”
“A favor?” he scoffed. “Is that what you just did for Hoffman and those guards?”
“They had to go.” Her eyes burned. She leveled the gun, and his heart leaped into his throat. They didn’t stand a chance. The instant they moved, she was going to fire. And the noise wouldn’t alert the guards, not with a suppressor on the gun. He couldn’t even sacrifice himself to save Brynn.
“Don’t move,” she warned, as if guessing his thoughts.
He swallowed hard, knowing the only solution was to overpower her before she could murder Brynn. But she’d positioned them perfectly, making it impossible for him to move in time.
He met Brynn’s eyes. Her gaze flicked to the bed, then back. He frowned, not sure what she was signaling, but then he understood. The nurse call button. He’d draped it over the railing. She couldn’t reach it, but maybe he could.
Trying not to draw the lieutenant’s notice, he slid a glance at the cord. The control was dangling off the bed, out of her line of sight. But could he reach it without tipping her off?
“So why did you kill Hoffman?” he asked again, needing to distract her. “What was the colonel’s role in this?” Praying she wouldn’t notice, he inched his hand toward the edge of the bed.
“Hoffman.” She grimaced. “Talk about a waste of humanity. He was a sleazy little pervert who didn’t deserve to live.”
“So you knew what he was like?” He reached the cord and tugged.
She nodded. “I found some photos he kept in his desk. Really nasty stuff. And after that...”
“You blackmailed him.”
“We had an agreement. I kept quiet about his twisted hobby, and he did favors for me. But he screwed up in the end. He needed to get rid of Brynn, but he was too squeamish to do it himself. He put Markus Jenkins on her trail, but you found her first. And when it seemed you’d joined forces and weren’t going to bring her in, we decided you both had to go. But Markus Jenkins failed to kill you, too. And now it’s up to me.”
“But why kill us?” Brynn asked, the desperation in her voice gutting his heart. “Why not let us go? We didn’t know you were involved. We never would have connected it to you.”
“Parker would have.” She waved the gun at him, and he froze, thinking she’d seen him move. But she continued speaking, and he seized the remote control. “Once he joined up with you, I knew he’d figure it out.”
“Still—”
“Look.” Her voice hardened. “It doesn’t matter. I have my orders to kill you. I’m not the only one who wants you dead.”
Parker blinked, her revelation making him pause. Someone else wanted to kill them? “Like who?”
But Lieutenant Lewis only shook her head. “I can’t tell you that. This thing is huge. It goes way up the chain. Powerful people are involved, more than you’ll ever guess. You have no idea how big this is.”
She cocked the hammer on her gun.
Parker’s pulse raced. Knowing he only had seconds, he ran his finger over the buttons, trying to decide which one to push. He didn’t dare hit them all and risk tipping Lieutenant Lewis off.
Sweat popped out on his brow. He tried to envision the remote control, but he’d hardly
glanced at it as he’d shoved it aside. He slid his finger to the button in the center, then paused.
Brynn cleared her throat. He spared her a glance, and she raised her chin in a barely perceptible nod. His heart warming, he sent her a mental thanks, then jabbed the button to call the nurse.
A signal trilled down the hall. The red light beside the bed turned on. Parker silently swore, hoping Lieutenant Lewis wouldn’t attribute it to him.
But then a shout rang out. Footsteps pounded in the hall. Lieutenant Lewis glanced at the light, and fury blazed through her eyes. She jerked her gun toward Brynn. “Don’t move or she’s dead,” she warned, freezing Parker in place.
The door swung open behind her, and Enrique Delgado appeared in the room, flanked by several cops. They all had their weapons drawn.
“Drop your weapon,” Delgado ordered.
The lieutenant stilled. Fear flashed through her gaze, every shred of color fading from her face. But her gun never veered from Brynn.
Parker sat frozen in horror, understanding how this would end. The lieutenant knew she couldn’t escape. She wouldn’t leave here alive. But if she was going to die today, she intended to take someone down with her—Brynn.
The lieutenant’s hand began to shake. Sweat glistened on her waxy face. Then her expression changed, her eyes filling with resignation. And Parker knew in that instant she was going to shoot.
Desperation screamed through his skull. He had to do something. He had to stop her somehow. But the slightest move, and Brynn would die.
Her trigger finger moved. Knowing it was hopeless, Parker dove off the bed toward Brynn, flinging himself toward her with all his strength. But she was too far away.
The gun went off, the suppressor silencing all but a quiet pop. Brynn cried out. Her eyes flew to his, her shock turning to pain. Blood welled through her shirt. She clutched her chest with her free hand and staggered toward him, then sank to the tiled floor.
Gunfire broke out, the officers mowing down Terry Lewis where she stood.
But he’d arrived too late to save Brynn.
Chapter 18
The rules be damned.
Flanked by half a dozen guards, Parker strode down the hallway to Brynn’s hospital room the following afternoon, determined to get inside. He was still pushing his IV pole, still wearing the ridiculous, open-backed hospital gown, but he’d added a robe and socks. Police swarmed the hall. Access to the floor was tightly restricted, the security extreme. In the twenty-four hours since that shooting, he hadn’t spent a single moment alone.
Outside the hospital was even worse. This was the biggest story to hit Baltimore in decades. It was a complete media circus with news vans and reporters everywhere. And every law enforcement agency in the region had flooded the hospital—state and city police, the ATF and FBI.
A nurse trotted up beside him. “Excuse me, sir. You need to get back into bed. You’re not authorized to get up yet.”
“Try to stop me,” he muttered, striding past her. He’d twiddled his thumbs long enough. He wasn’t going to wait another second to see the woman he loved—no matter what the regulations said.
He neared Brynn’s room—obvious by the armed guards blocking the door—the desperate need to see her hardening his resolve. Watching Lieutenant Lewis shoot Brynn had been the worst moment of his life—worse than seeing Hoffman hold her at gunpoint, worse than hearing about her abuse, worse even than learning about Tommy’s death. He’d never recover from that heart-stopping moment when he’d thought that she was dead.
And he’d been frantic ever since—during the hours she’d spent in surgery, during the night as she’d lain in the ICU, hovering between life and death. Now they’d finally moved her to a recovery room under heavy police protection, refusing to let him near.
But enough was enough. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching her side. He had to see for himself that she’d survived.
A second later, he reached her room. He recognized several police officers, including the one blocking the door. “Martinez,” he said with a nod.
“Hey, McCall. Love the dress,” Martinez quipped. “You here to give us a fashion show?”
His mouth quirking up, Parker flipped him a rude hand signal, and everyone around them laughed.
But then the guard’s expression sobered. “Sorry, man, but she can’t have visitors yet. Nobody’s supposed to go inside.”
“I’m not here. You didn’t see me.”
“Hell, McCall. You know I can’t let you inside.”
Parker leveled him a gaze.
The guards exchanged glances. Martinez heaved out a sigh. “Fine, you’re not here. I didn’t see you come by. But you owe me for this.” He moved aside to let him pass.
Still wheeling the IV pole, Parker opened the door and stepped inside. His gaze arrowed straight to the bed, and his heart made a crazy loop, fear and love tangling up inside. Brynn looked so small, so defenseless, so pale. But she was alive.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze connected with his, and he struggled to breathe. Dark circles underscored her eyes. The bruise stood out on her cheek. Her hair was a messy splash of color against her white pillow. She still had her arm in the sling. But now bandages covered her chest. Cords ran across the bed like wires at an electrical substation, connecting her to a bank of machines. Black stitches marched across her scalp, trailing a smear of brown antiseptic over one temple. She looked like an alley cat who’d barely survived a brawl with a Rottweiler.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Hi,” she whispered.
His throat suddenly thick, emotions somersaulting inside him, he went to her side. For an endless moment he simply gazed into her eyes, too overcome to speak. There was so much he needed to tell her, so much he had to explain.
He managed to clear his throat. “How are you feeling?”
The corner of her mouth slid up. “Like I’ve been shot. But I’m not in any pain. The drugs are doing their job.”
“Good.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her close, to run away with her to someplace safe.
Like he should have done from the start.
His legs unsteady, he pulled up a chair and sat, cursing his weakened state. He could only imagine how she must feel, despite her insistence that she was fine.
Needing a moment to compose himself, he glanced around the room. “Who sent flowers?”
“My agent. She phoned a while ago.”
“So she’s all right?”
Brynn nodded. “She’s at home now. But she still has the bodyguard. She found out who took that photo, by the way, the one that appeared in the newspaper.”
The photo that had started it all. “Who was it?”
“A reporter. He’d been following her for months, watching everything she did. He saw me meet with her a couple of times and figured it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. At least Hoffman is dead now. And we found out who killed Tommy.”
Unable to resist, Parker reached out and took her hand, the soft, silky warmth of her skin, the fragile feel of her slender wrist reminding him of how perilously close she’d come to death. He gazed into her eyes, struggling for the words to say, his heart kickboxing in his chest. “God, Brynn. I thought for sure I’d lost you.”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded rough. She squeezed his hand, her luminous eyes on his. He battled back a rush of memories, not wanting to relive the terror of hearing that deadly pop, of seeing her fall to the floor.
“I was scared,” she admitted. “When she pulled out that gun...I didn’t see how we were going to survive.”
They nearly hadn’t. She nearly hadn’t. And it was all his fault.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I should have figured it out sooner.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “You couldn’t have known she was involved.”
“I knew something was
off when you told me Hoffman was dead. It didn’t make any sense.” But he’d been too slow, his mind too foggy to figure it out. And as a result, Brynn had nearly died.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “No one’s told me anything yet.”
“She’s dead. Suicide by cop. She knew she couldn’t escape, so she decided to die instead. That’s why she shot you. She knew that as soon as she fired at you, they’d take her down.”
Brynn squeezed his hand, a myriad of emotions passing through her eyes—relief, understanding, sympathy. “I’m sorry, Parker.”
He ran his thumb over her knuckles, his chest suddenly tight. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t sorry that Lieutenant Lewis had died. She was sorry that another officer had betrayed him. She understood how deep this cut, undermining everything he’d once believed.
But had he acted any better toward her? He’d lied about his relationship with her stepfather, destroying her trust—just when she’d needed him most.
He had to plead for forgiveness. He needed to tell her he loved her and ask for another chance. “Brynn,” he began. He swallowed hard, regrets piling up inside. “I’m sorry. I never meant to deceive you. I mean, at first I did. I didn’t know you. I thought you had something to do with Tommy’s death. And Hoffman showed me your file.”
“It’s pretty convincing.”
He nodded, his throat dust-dry. “I didn’t know who to believe. But I realized pretty fast that something was off. Those reports didn’t match what I saw about you, the woman I was getting to know. And when I finally figured it out, I didn’t want to hurt you. You’d already suffered too much. I was trying to find a good time to tell to you. But I really did plan to tell you the truth.”
“I believe you.”
A rush of relief spiraled through him. Declarations crowded his throat—his hopes for their future, his need to stay with her forever, his love.
