“And now you’ve got him in custody. Must sweeten the deal.”
Sweeten the deal?
The air in her lungs turned to smog. She told herself to breathe, but her body refused. Not a completely uncommon saying, but unusual enough.
Nate swallowed. The color slid from his face. “Uh, you okay?”
“It’s you.” She tried to sort her thoughts, but clarity eluded her grasp. “Stevens.”
“I, uh, I’m not tracking.”
Could she be wrong?
She studied him. Resignation lingered in his eyes.
The secret was out and he knew it.
“You’re Stevens.”
He pulled in a thick breath. “No. Lana, listen to me. It’s not–”
“Stevens?”
Young!
Whirling, she found Young on his feet, gun already pointed their direction.
Stupid! Never take your eyes off the target. How could she have made such a rookie mistake?
A rookie mistake that would cost her, possibly all of them, their lives.
“Shoulda known it was about her.” Young gave his head a small shake. “Now I get to take down Stevens. That’ll do a lot for my rep.”
The gun locked on Nate. Steadied.
No!
She threw herself at Nate, shoulder connecting with his ribcage.
A sharp crack severed the night.
Something slammed into her with the force of a freight train.
Pain blasted through her body, faded as quickly as it came. Her head bounced off the ground but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt.
Shadows invaded her vision. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
“Lana!” Panic tinged Nate’s words.
A cackle. From Young. “Too bad I don’t have time for you to watch her die.”
Watch her die? Was she dying?
No. He was going to kill her. Or at least try to.
Do something!
Blink.
The parking lot came into focus.
She turned her head. The hand holding her Glock poked into her ribs and she wrenched it from under her body.
Young stood several feet away. Half turned from her, focused on Nate.
Planting her hands, she pushed herself up.
Her palms slipped. Crimson coated the ground beneath her.
Blood. Hers?
Couldn’t be. She felt nothing.
Stop Young.
The words shouted through her head, focused her scattered thoughts. She rose.
Ringing echoed in her ears and she swayed, but stayed on her feet. A tremor shook her hand as she brought her gun up.
Pull it together.
Young racked the slide on his weapon and leveled it at Nate’s head.
She planted her feet. Cupped her other hand around the gun. Took aim.
The bullet caught Young in the temple. He collapsed without a sound.
Get his gun. Even though he had to be dead, she wasn’t willing to make the same mistake twice.
Her legs shook like twigs as she half-walked, half-staggered to where Young was splayed across the asphalt. Kneeling, she felt for a pulse. Nothing. Her hand dropped from his neck, but she couldn’t find the energy to move.
Why was she so tired?
“Lana.” Nate’s voice contained a surprising urgency.
“He’s dead.”
It felt like her brain was shutting down. There’d been something important, something about Nate? Or was it Young?
And didn’t Stevens figure in somewhere?
Fog enveloped her mind. A shiver rocked down her body. When did it get so cold out here?
With movements that felt about as graceful as an elephant at the ballet, she pushed herself to her feet. Dizziness clouded her vision and the buzzing in her ears increased to a near scream.
She wobbled.
A hand landed on her back. She looked up into Nate’s concerned face. Red and blue lights pulsed in his eyes. Were the police finally here?
“I’m okay–”
“You’ve been shot.” His sharp tone sliced through her murky mind.
What was he talking about?
Wait. She had seen blood, hadn’t she? Her gaze traveled down to her hands. Saw the scarlet coating them.
“It doesn’t hurt.” The voice sounded like it came from someone else, but she felt the words vibrate from her throat.
“You’re in shock.”
She stared at him, tried to decipher the unfamiliar expression.
Fear? For her? She looked down again.
Blood snaked down her arm in several fat trails and her shirt clung to her like a second layer of skin. Red skin. Lots of it.
Tremors worked up her body, increasing until they rivaled the violence of an earthquake.
Her knees buckled.
An arm supported her back. Nate eased her to the ground as if she was made of glass.
The world before her blurred, but she couldn’t remember how to focus.
“The ambulance will be here any second. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She didn’t hear any sirens. And Nate sounded miles away.
“No! Lana, stay with me. Come on, look at me.”
Gentle patting on her cheeks brought her eyes open, but she saw nothing more than dim shapes. Why wouldn’t he let her sleep? She was so tired.
Sirens. She could hear them now. But they were so far away.
“Over here! Hurry!”
Nate’s voice sounded barely louder than a whisper. Had he left her?
Maybe now she could rest. Her eyes slid closed, and this time no one tried to get her to open them again.
Twenty-Six
GSW. Female victim.
Gunshot wound. Female.
The limited information taunted Dimitrios like a bad recording and filled his mind with way too many images. All bad. And all involving his sister.
He cursed the five-car pile-up that had called all the on-duty police officers and ambulances to the other side of town. Everyone involved in the accident had been okay, but it’d taken time. And had put all emergency services far away from what might be a life or death situation for Milana.
No. Not Milana. He refused to believe it was her.
Just because she was in town, and just because she’d already been shot once, didn’t mean that she was the only woman who would suffer a gunshot wound on his shift.
She was off-duty now. No work, no danger. Besides, Lana wasn’t even staying at that hotel.
A hotel could mean an affair gone bad. Or something to do with drugs or prostitution.
The arguments did nothing to calm his nerves. Good thing Mike was driving tonight.
Mike jerked the ambulance to a halt in the parking lot.
Three police cars had beat them to the scene. One officer walked around, but the rest congregated in one spot, focused on the ground.
The victim, no doubt.
A body sprawled a few feet away from the group, but no one seemed interested in that one. Likely the guy was beyond help.
Another officer knelt next to a guy sitting on the ground, leaning against a car.
The distance prevented him from seeing any details, but if the guy was sitting up, he likely wasn’t critical.
Dimitrios grabbed a kit while Mike pulled out the gurney. One of the officers separated from the cluster and waved them over.
The information from dispatch repeated through his head. Female GSW.
It couldn’t be her.
Behind him, another ambulance screeched into the parking lot, but he didn’t turn to look.
He jogged toward the group. The officers parted as he approached, but one guy didn’t move. No uniform. Blood coated his hands and stained his clothes.
Every ounce of his attention seemed focused on the slight, still body in front of him.
Dimitrios’ pulse spiked as he approached.
Don’t be her. Don’t be her.
The closer he got, th
e more he could see. Black hair blended with the parking lot. She was about the right size and build.
The familiar face came into view.
No!
Blood blackened her chest in sharp contrast to her gray face. Her eyes, identical to Cy’s and his own, were closed.
He couldn’t move.
He knew he had to. Knew that every second he stood like an idiot was one he could be using to save her, but his legs felt like extensions of the ground beneath his feet.
Mike pushed past him, bumping Dimitrios’ shoulder as he squeezed by.
Treat her like anyone else. Do what you have to do.
Wooden legs carried him to her side. One of the officers gently pulled the man away.
Breaths rasped from her slightly parted lips, each one hitting like a dagger in his side. At least they didn’t sound moist, like there was blood in her lungs.
Mike snapped his gloves on, efficiently sliced open her shirt to reveal a dark, coagulated hole just below her collarbone.
Oh, man.
There was so much a bullet could destroy there. Blood vessels, arteries. How much damage had been done? From the amount of blood she’d lost, he’d guess quite a bit.
For her sake, he had to keep his objectivity.
“Milana. Can you hear me?”
No response, movement, anything.
Mike’s hands faltered momentarily as Dimitrios said her name, but then continued to dress the wound for transport.
“She’ll live, right?” A man’s voice sounded behind Dimitrios’ left shoulder.
While he knew he should respond, try to offer some reassurance, he didn’t have it in him.
“Let’s check her back.” Mike glanced up at Dimitrios, his eyes clearly asking if he could do this.
Dimitrios reached for her injured side.
“Her back’s clean,” the man spoke up again.
Shooting his attention to the man for the first time, Dimitrios assessed him. Grief lined his face. Mingled with hints of panic. But he seemed pretty certain. “You’re sure?”
A nod answered him.
So the bullet was still inside her. From a blood-loss standpoint, that was a good thing.
From an injury perspective, it meant more internal damage. Not a good thing.
He and Mike loaded her onto the gurney and rushed toward the ambulance. As he climbed in the back and closed the doors, he found the man standing exactly where they’d left him, watching. A police officer stood next to him, saying something that he doubted the man even heard.
He looked back at her. How could this happen?
Mike climbed into the driver’s seat and tore out of the lot, siren blaring. The five mile drive seemed longer than ever.
The emergency room staff waited as they pulled up to the doors of the ER.
Even though she was in the capable hands of the trauma team, Dimitrios ignored protocol and ran alongside, his gaze focused on his sister’s too-pale face. He stopped only when the gurney was whisked through the double doors of the trauma unit.
Life bustled around him, but he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so alone.
A hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to find Mike standing there, somber expression in place.
“That the sister you mentioned?”
No words would form. He nodded.
How did a US Marshal get shot while on vacation?
“I’ll pray.” Mike placed a hand on his shoulder and started praying.
For the first time he could remember, Dimitrios found himself hoping there was something to this God thing that both Mike and his parents had bought into. That maybe God was there. That maybe He was listening.
And that maybe, just maybe, He’d care enough to save Milana’s life.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“How’re you holding up?”
Nate jerked his head up to find the dark-haired EMT from earlier standing a few feet away. Dried blood crusted on the front of his uniform, a harsh reminder of why Nate sat in the chairs opposite the emergency room.
“Uh. Okay. I guess.” Except for the tears backed up in his eyes and the pressure crushing his throat.
“I know what you mean.” The EMT leaned against the wall across from Nate’s chair. “The first time I saw a gunshot wound, it, wow. It changes you. It’s worse when it’s someone you know.”
Worse still when it was your fault.
He studied the EMT. Something about him seemed familiar, but he couldn’t nail down what it was. And honestly, right now he was too exhausted to try.
Pushing off the wall, the EMT extended his hand. “I’m Dimitrios.”
“Nate.” As he withdrew his hand, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blood staining his skin. No amount of scrubbing had taken it off completely.
Dimitrios seemed to notice his gaze. “It’ll fade.”
Too bad the memories wouldn’t.
“So how do you know my sister?”
Sister? Nate locked onto the EMT. Yeah, he could see the resemblance now. If he hadn’t been so worked up, he probably would’ve seen it before. This guy had to be part of the biological family she’d discovered down here. “Man, I’m sorry.”
Dimitrios stuffed his hands into his pockets and dipped his head. “Is what it is. So you’re a friend of hers?”
“Yeah.” At least he hoped they were still friends.
He looked toward the ER doors.
Shouldn’t they have heard something by now? Too bad he didn’t know if no news was good news.
A petite woman with gray-streaked hair walked by, her white sneakers squeaking on the tile. Pale purple scrubs identified her as a nurse.
Dimitrios gently snagged her arm. “Margie, any way you can get the scoop on the gunshot victim I brought in earlier?”
Compassion laced her smile. “Sure, hon. Let me see what I can do.”
Five minutes later she returned, no hint of a smile on her round face. “Hon, she is one lucky woman. That bullet angled in under her collarbone and fragmented. They’re diggin’ pieces out of bone and muscle now, but looks like it missed all major organs. It nicked an artery and she’s lost a lot of blood, but it’s lookin’ good.”
“Thanks, Margie.”
“No problem, hon.”
Silence descended between them. At least Dimitrios didn’t seem to be one who felt the need to fill silence with meaningless chatter.
Minutes ticked by. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Margie how much longer this would take?
In spite of the positive prognosis, he wouldn’t believe Lana was okay until he could see it with his own eyes.
The elevator dinged. A couple who looked to be in their sixties stepped off, along with a younger couple. Dimitrios excused himself and approached, speaking to the group in tones too low for Nate to hear.
But the grief on their faces told him all he needed to know. He was looking at Lana’s family.
A muffled cry burst from Lana’s mother and her father slid an arm around her shoulders.
He pushed up from the chair and strode the opposite direction.
This was his fault. That bullet had been meant for him, but she’d stepped into it.
If her family hadn’t heard the whole story yet, they soon would. And when they did, they’d hate him. Maybe almost as much as he hated himself.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
“Nate?”
Nate started, his eyes flipping open.
In front of him stood the man who’d stepped off the elevator earlier. From Lana’s family. No visible family resemblance, so likely her adopted family.
“I’m Lana’s brother. Reilly Tanner.” Reilly shook his hand before settling in the chair across from him. “Dimitrios thought you might’ve come down here.”
“Looking for a quiet place, you know?”
“I hear you. Thought you’d want to know that she’s out of surgery. She’ll be out of the action for a while, but I doubt it’ll be long before she’s getting into trouble again
.” Reilly rubbed the back of his neck. “I tell you, she’s going to put me in an early grave. You have any siblings?”
Nate shook his head.
“Lucky you.”
Dry humor laced the words. As much as Lana’s dangerous job might stress Reilly out, Nate could tell he wouldn’t trade her for anything.
“So no permanent damage?” Nate’s throat burned.
“They anticipate she’ll make a full recovery.”
Fire pricked his eyes. When had he become so weak?
“You all right?”
The concern behind Reilly’s words almost undid him. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded.
Reilly leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “My family’s in the room down the hall. Why don’t you wait with us? The hospital’s been good about updates.”
So he could look at all of them and feel his guilt compound? No thanks. “I’m good here. Thanks anyway.”
“Well, maybe I’ll wait with you then.” Leaning back, Reilly settled in. “I’ve actually looked forward to meeting you. Lana’s told me a lot about you.”
“Probably shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Man. Hopefully that wasn’t as lame as it sounded to him. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. But I honestly expected an invalid.”
Reilly chuckled. “Let me guess. She gave you some vague details and let you draw your own conclusion, right?”
“Something like that.”
“It’s my fault. She was protecting me.” Reilly rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Some people were trying to kill me. But I’m surprised she didn’t set the record straight.”
“Maybe she would’ve but we didn’t have time before she was…” The word shot froze on his tongue. “We, uh, didn’t have time.”
An awkward silence descended that Nate desperately wanted to fill.
Or flee, he hadn’t quite decided which.
If Reilly noticed, he gave no indication. The smile he’d worn earlier had slipped a little, but still reflected in his eyes.
“You don’t have to hang here with me. I know your family’s waiting for you down the hall.”
“Maybe I like the quiet, too. Besides, you look like you could use a friend.”
Deadly Alliances Page 29
