by V. K. Powell
D
Finley reread the note twice before folding it and slipping it in her back pocket. She wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings from Dylan’s family, but she didn’t run scared. She’d face whatever Dylan had to say with the courage required of any dangerous situation. Besides, she still needed to go to the hospital. Josh Spencer had woken from his coma three days ago and would probably be released to jail soon. If one last conversation before he ended up behind bars could help her locate Jeremy, she’d take the shot.
Finley drove to the hospital and took the stairs up. Josh’s room was only one floor below G-ma’s, so a quick stop on her way out would be easy. She breathed deeply and tried to regulate her heartbeat as she approached G-ma’s door. Seeing Dylan again so soon might break her. The uncertainty between them, and the weight of her emotions ping-ponged inside until she felt weak and steadied herself with a hand against the wall. If this was what her father felt, she understood why he’d rather drink himself to death. She’d prefer a bullet to get it over with quickly.
“Take a deep breath. Facing the Carlyles isn’t always like facing a firing squad.” Bennett placed a hand on Finley’s shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
If Bennett knew how apropos her firing squad analogy was, she’d probably get a kick out of it, but Finley wasn’t in a laughing mood. “Just thinking I should’ve brought something.”
“I can’t imagine what else we could possibly need. The room is overflowing as it is, and I just invited the entire floor to whatever’s left.” She nudged Finley toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Finley nodded and followed Bennett in. The usually sparse room was transformed by dishes of food on overbed trays, extra chairs, and Carlyles. She spotted Dylan immediately, standing on the opposite side of G-ma’s bed eating green Jell-O. Their eyes met, and Finley couldn’t help laughing. “Seriously? Green Jell-O?”
“That’s what I said,” G-ma answered. “Welcome, Finley. Give me a hug.” She stretched her arms wide, and Finley obliged. G-ma hugged her and whispered, “Be patient with our girl. She’ll come around.” G-ma winked, and Finley felt the pressure in her chest ease. “Eat. We have to get rid of the evidence.”
“As if the entire floor can’t smell those ribs and that sweet potato casserole,” Simon said.
Finley worked her way around the room greeting everyone, barely able to keep from running straight to Dylan. Her energy drew Finley like a magnetic beacon. If she needed confirmation that she was in love, the warmth and excitement she felt when Dylan was close provided it. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” Dylan said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I’m no coward.” She placed her hand in the small of Dylan’s back and leaned close enough to plant a quick kiss on her cheek.
“You certainly aren’t.” Dylan’s chestnut-brown eyes turned dark chocolate as she looked at her, and heat crawled up Finley’s neck.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.
“I’d be happy to just eat you for lunch.” Dylan dropped her arm behind Finley’s back and cupped her ass. “Think we could sneak out unnoticed?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“On-call room?” Dylan asked with a mischievous wiggle of her eyebrows.
“Been there, done that, bad outcome.”
Dylan squeezed her ass harder. “But I have a key.”
“Care to share what you two are whispering about over there?” Mama asked. “On second thought, the look on your faces says I probably don’t want to know.”
Finley started to offer a defense, but Dylan’s phone pinged with an unusual tone.
Dylan glanced at the screen, and her mischievous expression turned grim. “I have to go.”
“Is everything all right?” Bennett asked.
“Evacuation, fourth floor. Armed gunman. We’re in lockdown.” Dylan stopped at the door. “Everybody stay here until I give you the all-clear.” Bennett and Jazz moved toward her. “No,” Dylan said holding her hand out. “This is my turf. Our security is trained for these type things.”
“And we’re not?” Jazz asked incredulously.
“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. I don’t have time to argue. If you have to do something, coordinate with our security chief.” She made eye contact with Finley. “Don’t rush in like a bunch of cowboys. Please.”
The door closed behind Dylan, and Finley started after her, but Bennett blocked her path. “She’s right. We can’t barge in without knowing hospital protocol. Jazz, contact the security chief, tell him our position, and offer our assistance. I’ll inform Communications and the chief and get SRT rolling. Fin—”
“I have to protect Dylan. I love her.” The words flowed without hesitation or editing.
Bennett stared at her for several seconds as if Finley’s announcement stunned her. “And we don’t?”
“Spencer is on that floor, and his brother is probably with him.” Finley tried to go around Bennett, but she didn’t budge. “Get out of my way, Ben. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Do you want to hurt Dylan?”
Finley felt like she’d been gut punched. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Dylan’s first responsibility is evacuating the patients on the floor. She’s smart enough not to go near that room, so she’s in no immediate danger, unless you make her a target. Let her do her job with the evacuation, and we’ll do ours containing and managing the threat. We have to do this by the numbers, Fin.”
Finley released a long breath and sagged against the door. It went against everything inside her to let Dylan go out there unprotected, but Bennett had a point, and she was thinking more clearly than Finley right now. “Then give me something to do.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Dylan took the stairs two at a time and opened the door on the fourth floor to chaos. Nurses wheeled moaning patients toward the elevators, while aides herded ambulatory patients toward the stairway exits. She spotted Holly and ran toward her. “Why are you up here?”
“Just visiting when all hell broke loose.”
“What’s the situation and how can I help?” Dylan asked.
“Room 412, armed gunman. The shooter from Fairview Station and his brother, who was being released to jail today. One of them shot the officer on duty and dragged him into the room as a hostage. The officer got a shot off as well and may have injured the shooter. Unconfirmed. We’ve almost cleared the floor. Help me double-check the rooms. You take left. I’ve got right.”
They started their search, and Dylan swept the rooms on her side except the one where the suspects were. She paused briefly outside the door, and heard someone groaning in pain. She continued to the end of the hall. “Clear,” she called to Holly.
“Same.” They met at the nurses’ station again. “Security should be here by now, but considering what they’re paid, I’m not sure I’d hurry either.”
“My entire family is one floor up, so the cavalry will be here shortly.”
“Now what?” Holly asked.
“We should leave, but someone in that room needs medical attention,” Dylan said.
“Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere near that room, and I’m very fond of you, so I’m not letting you go either. Besides, I’d have the entire Carlyle clan hunting me down if anything happened to you, not to mention my own guilt.”
“There’s a police officer in there too, Holly. I can’t just walk away. And if the shooter is hurt, I might be able to establish rapport with him while I treat his injuries. If I can talk him out, it would beat the police storming the room or getting into a shoot-out.” She met Holly’s gaze, pleading for her support.
“This really isn’t a good idea, Dylan.”
“I could use you outside the door to hand me supplies.” She gave Holly a quick hug. “I know I’m asking a lot. Please?”
“If you insist on doing this, of course. I’m not leaving you alone up here.”
> Dylan grabbed a trauma kit and tucked it under her arm. “Let’s go.” She had a flash of the station shooting and running through gunfire to help the injured. She brushed the thought aside and focused on what she had to do as she slid along the wall toward the door with Holly close behind. “I’m going to call your phone. Leave the line open so you can hear what’s going on and what supplies I need.” She tapped on the door.
“Get the fuck back or I’ll blow you away,” an angry voice called.
“I’m a doctor. Is anyone injured? I can help.”
“How many cops out there?”
“None. I swear.” Dylan held her breath. Her family was going to kill her for rushing into another dangerous situation, if one of these guys didn’t do it first. But it was her job, just like it was theirs…and Finley’s.
“Okay, just you,” the guy answered. “Come in slow with your hands up.”
Dylan eased the door open with her foot, her hands out in front of her, and almost gasped aloud when she looked around. The floor was covered in blood. A young police officer lay curled into the fetal position behind the door, and the shooter stood beside the patient’s bed cradling his left arm with blood dripping from his fingers. “I have a trauma kit to treat the injuries.” She stooped beside the officer and snapped on a pair of gloves.
“Me first, bitch.”
“This man is unconscious. If he dies, that’s murder. Let me at least check his vitals and send him to the ER. Your injury isn’t life threatening.”
The patient, who Dylan recognized as Josh Spencer, said, “Let her do it, Jeremy. Who needs a cop hostage when we’ve got a pretty doctor.”
Jeremy nodded, and Dylan checked the officer. His pulse was thin and thready. GSW to the abdomen with no exit site. He’d already lost consciousness from blood loss, which combined with shock could kill him without immediate attention. “Holly?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to slide the officer out to you. Get him to ER stat. I’ll be fine until you get back.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“He’s going to die if he doesn’t get treatment now.” She slid the officer in his own blood feetfirst outside, and Holly took over. When the door closed and Dylan was alone with the suspects, she felt nauseous. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t a hero. Her hands trembled but she took a deep breath, focused on what needed to be done, and moved toward the other injured man. “Now, Jeremy, is that right?” He nodded, and she stepped in front of him. “Have a seat and let me check your arm. I’m Dylan.”
Jeremy sat in a chair facing the door beside his brother’s bed with a gun resting on his thigh. “Don’t try anything stupid or I will shoot you.”
“Understood. Can you take your shirt off?” While Jeremy unbuttoned and removed his shirt, Dylan listened for any movement outside the room to indicate help was on the way but heard nothing. The entire floor was eerily quiet. She prayed her family and Finley were still safe one floor up and that the lunch they’d shared wouldn’t be their last.
She should’ve told Finley she loved her last night. Facing the possibility of death brought everything into focus. Papa used to say the only time anyone could be courageous was when he was afraid, and she’d failed miserably with Finley. Hindsight sucked, especially when she might not get to correct her mistake. Finley would never know how much Dylan loved her.
Jeremy pressed the barrel of his gun against Dylan’s temple. “Are you going to fix me up or what?”
“Y…yes, but that’s not helping me concentrate.”
“Jeremy, give the woman a chance,” Josh said.
Dylan opened an alcohol swab and cleaned the site. The injury looked superficial, and she didn’t detect any bone or muscle damage, but only an X-ray would be definitive. “You got lucky. The bullet went straight through. I’ll clean and bandage the wound.”
“And give me something for pain. It hurts like a motherfucker.”
Dylan glanced at Josh while she cleaned and dressed Jeremy’s wound. “So, what’s the plan here, guys? You can’t just hold a floor of the hospital hostage forever.”
“I’m taking my brother out of here,” Jeremy said.
“And how is that going to work? The place is probably swarming with cops by now.”
Jeremy chuckled. “You were nice enough to provide us with a get-away-free card, unlike that cop who couldn’t walk. Nobody is going to shoot us as long as we have you.”
Dylan shivered. She hadn’t thought her plan through, but being taken hostage wasn’t part of it. “And what about your daughter, Josh?”
“What about Shea?” he asked.
“I saw her yesterday. We played basketball. She’s a pretty good little athlete. I understand she runs track too.”
Josh grinned. “Yeah, she gets her speed from me.”
“Do you want her to grow up thinking her father’s a murderer?” Josh’s expression softened, but she felt Jeremy’s arm tense as she secured his dressing with tape.
“Are the people she’s living with good folks?” Josh asked.
“They are, and she likes them too,” Dylan said, “but seeing you shot and shooting at other people has been hard on her.”
“But I didn’t shoot anybody,” Josh said. “I didn’t even fire my shotgun.”
“Shut up, Josh. She’s fucking with your head.” Jeremy pointed the weapon at Dylan again. “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll kill you right now.”
No one spoke while Dylan picked up the wrappers she’d dropped on the floor and tossed them in the trash. She’d outlived her usefulness as a doctor, and now she was just a hostage. She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked from Josh to Jeremy. “So?”
Jeremy directed her against the wall opposite the bed and down on the floor.
“We can’t do this, Jeremy,” Josh said.
“What are you talking about? We hold all the cards, bro.”
“We can’t get out of here. She’s right. The place is surrounded by now. I know I’m going to do time, but I want to see my daughter again someday.”
“And what do I have to look forward to?” Jeremy asked.
* * *
Finley paced the room next door to where the suspects held Dylan hostage, checking the monitor with each pass. The Special Response Team had run a snake scope through the air duct to give them eyes on the situation, but only Bennett could hear what was going on. She’d gotten Holly’s cell and was listening through earphones and relaying to other officers on the scene.
“What happened to Dylan being smart enough not to go in the room?” she asked Bennett.
“She’s a Carlyle, duty-bound and stubborn.”
Every time Jeremy Spencer pointed his gun at Dylan, Finley lunged toward the door separating the two rooms. “If he does that shit one more time,” she whispered, “I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. We have to get in there. Now.” She’d never felt so useless or emotionally raw.
Bennett grabbed her shoulder. “Stop pacing. These walls are paper thin. Dylan is making progress with Josh. She might be able to talk them out.”
“And if she can’t?”
“The entire floor is locked down, and SRT is in position to take the shot if necessary. In the meantime, if you want to stay in this room, calm the fuck down. That’s my sister in there.”
Finley nodded. “And the woman I love. I just feel helpless.”
“I’m with you, but we have to give her time. She knows what she’s doing and the risks involved. She wouldn’t have gone in there without a plan. Now sit, be quiet and patient.”
Bennett keyed her mike and gave Jazz, who was in position with SRT in the parking deck nearby, a sitrep before returning her attention to the monitor.
Finley clasped her hands between her knees and thought about the things she wanted to do with Dylan, all the things she never imagined before they met—dating for real, living together, marriage eventually, and sharing a home. If she lost Dylan today, it would break her, as she’d seen
her father broken, and rip the emotional heart out of the Carlyle family. If Dylan escaped unhurt, Finley vowed to give her all the time she needed to figure out her feelings. Any amount of uncertainty and waiting beat losing her completely.
The minutes dragged as she stared at the monitor and watched Dylan sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, and her lips moving silently as she tried to convince the Spencer brothers to surrender. All she saw was the woman she loved in danger. How long could this go on? Her adrenaline levels had ebbed and flowed since the lockdown started, and her muscles ached with the need to do something. The department’s preference for negotiation over force took time, but Finley’s primal, protectiveness demanded action.
“I’ve got movement in the room,” Bennett whispered.
Finley was on her feet beside her in seconds. “What’s happening?”
Bennett unplugged the earphones so Finley could hear the exchange between Dylan and the brothers.
“You’re making the right decision, Jeremy. I’ll ask that Josh be allowed to see Shea one last time, but you have to put down your weapon or the officers will consider you a threat.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jeremy said. “I’m only doing this so my baby brother can have a chance at a better life someday.” He lowered his head in resignation. “And he really didn’t shoot anybody that day. He had a shotgun. I had the .357. Maybe that’ll help with his sentence.”
“It certainly won’t hurt,” Dylan said.
“What do I do now?” Jeremy asked.
“Leave your gun on the bed, raise your hands, and both of you follow me.”
“They’re coming out,” Bennett said.
Chapter Twenty-four
Finley didn’t wait to hear anything else. All her anxiety and frustration vanished with a jolt of adrenaline. She sprinted into the hallway, and as soon as Dylan exited the room, Finley stepped between her and the brothers and tackled Jeremy to the floor. She cocked her fist to hit him, but Dylan grabbed her arm.
