by Katie Reus
As the parking lot lights flicked on, Mihails steered his team back out of the parking lot and onto another quiet side street. Tucked away in a quiet Miami neighborhood with high fences and a security guard, his target thought he was safe. Everyone who lived there thought they were.
The interior mood of the vehicle changed as he pulled up to the security gate. It was almost palpable, the focused readiness of his men.
Mihails had his Makarov in his right hand as Oto rolled the window down using the controls on the center console.
The security man, wearing all-black fatigues, frowned as he looked through the interior of their SUV and started to speak, but Mihails lifted his weapon and shot him in the head. The man dropped like a stone, falling behind the half door of the small security building. A clean kill. One bullet right through his skull. Mihails’s suppressor covered what would have been a loud boom.
They had to move fast now. Mihails pulled forward until the passenger door was lined up with the half door. He watched in the rearview mirror as Kristaps slipped from the vehicle and entered the small gatehouse.
Seconds later, the security gate opened up and Mihails pulled through, leaving Kristaps behind to take the man’s uniform and act as security until they had completed their mission. It was why Mihails had gone with a head shot. They needed the security uniform as clean as possible. The wealthy people here likely wouldn’t look too closely at a uniform or a new guard.
No, the type of people who lived here were more concerned with their own pampered lives. With one act Mihails was going to remind them they were just like everyone else. Breakable.
Chapter 4
Wet work: expression for murdering or assassinating someone; “wet” alludes to the spilling of blood.
Maria stood in front of the virtually inactive nurses’ station two floors above her hospital room. It was much quieter on this floor, and while guilt pricked at her that she was being discharged without talking to Cade first, she ruthlessly shoved it down. She didn’t owe him anything, and the more she thought about his presence here, the more pissed off she got.
“We’re going to get you home so you can rest,” Nash said quietly, as if sensing her mixed emotions.
She knew the last thing she should be concerned about was talking to an old friend turned federal agent when she’d just lost her mother, but something deep inside nagged at her. A raw, edgy sensation she couldn’t shake. When she was washing her face, she’d had the sharpest flash of knowledge that she needed to tell someone . . . something. Which was frustratingly vague.
She was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and seeing Cade after so many years had rattled her even worse than she already was. His presence just reminded her of how callously he’d cut off contact with her. How after her brother died and she’d assumed Cade would be the one person there for her, he’d just decided she wasn’t important anymore.
“First we need to go to the center.” Her voice was still raspy and tired. Maria knew Nash would argue, but she didn’t want to go home just yet. Way too many memories of her mother there. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but she wanted to put it off as long as she could.
Nash opened his mouth, his boyishly handsome face set in frustration, but instead of arguing, he just nodded. “Okay.”
Maria blinked, surprised he wasn’t fighting her, then realized he wouldn’t right now. Not after everything that had happened. Before she could respond, a broad-shouldered, striking doctor with a warm tan and liberal amounts of white peppering his dark hair rounded the nearest corner and strode down the short hallway toward them, wearing the standard white coat. Dr. José Famosa. Head of neurosurgery and a family friend.
His expression was soft as he came up to her and gathered her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” he said. “I . . . the whole city has been rocked by this horror.”
Her throat tight, all she could do was nod into his shoulder. He was about the same height as her father, so at five feet eight, he didn’t dwarf her when he hugged her. After a few moments he pulled back and Maria quickly blinked away the threatening tears. “Thank you for discharging me.”
His expression darkened before he nodded politely at a nurse who handed him a clipboard. He started scribbling furiously as he spoke. “I don’t care what government branch they are. No one has the right to hold any patient hostage when she’s ready to be discharged. If you knew something that would help them, you would tell them. They’re stupid not to realize it.” She could tell he was angry because his accent grew thicker, shakier. Slightly older than her parents, he’d come over from Cuba at ten years old, fleeing the Communist regime after his teacher parents had been killed for being moderates. She knew that was why her father had called him to get her discharged. He had a strong dislike for any government interference.
“Do you know of a quiet exit?” Nash softly asked José.
The doctor looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Reporters were swarming the front of the ER and many of the exits, but the police have been diligent in getting most of them across the street.” He handed the clipboard to the nurse, then motioned for them to follow him down a nearly deserted hallway.
The ballet-slipper-type shoes Nash had brought for Maria made soft squeaking sounds against the floor, but the other two men were silent as they headed down the quiet hallway. This was a recovery ward, which explained the lack of activity.
Moments later, José opened a stairwell door for them and motioned inside. “This goes all the way to a parking garage. I don’t know where you’re parked, but there should be minimal activity in this garage, if any.” He looked at Nash sharply. “You can find your vehicle, then pick Maria up from the garage. She’s fine to leave, but I want her resting and I don’t want anyone recognizing her.”
To Nash’s credit, he merely nodded. Maria knew he didn’t take orders often, but right now she understood both men just cared about her well-being. Something she appreciated. After giving the doctor another quick hug, she and Nash hurried into the stairwell.
“The NSA will probably be angry.” Okay, not probably. She didn’t know why she even cared, but for some reason she felt guilty about slipping out before talking to the tall . . . sexy Cade O’Reilly.
She hated that after so long he was even better looking than she remembered. After the way he’d comforted her when he hadn’t needed to, it made her feel even crappier. She’d felt like a total maniac sobbing against his chest, but he hadn’t made her feel stupid. She could justify leaving all she wanted, but right now she just couldn’t deal with talking to him or anyone else.
“Who cares? That guy was a dick,” Nash muttered, hoisting her bag higher on his shoulder. “You know him?” he asked cautiously.
Maria was surprised he’d waited to ask her, but she nodded. “Yeah. He served in the Marines with Riel. My brother,” she clarified, though she figured he understood even though he’d never met her brother. He’d died long before Nash came to work for her father. “It was a long time ago, though.” She didn’t offer up more than that.
Thankfully Nash didn’t push her. “Let me just get you to the center, then your parents’ place. Your father will be home by the time you finish at the center and . . . he needs you, Maria.” Nash’s jaw clenched tight and for the first time Maria realized how absorbed in her own grief she’d been. Nash loved both her parents. Unlike her father, her mom had treated Nash more like a son than an employee, always fussing over him. Maria had always thought it was because she missed her own son so much.
“Oh, Nash, I’m . . .” She pulled him into a tight hug as they reached the second-stairwell landing. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He was stiff in her embrace, but he gently patted her back before stepping back. “Let’s get you out of here. I don’t want any of those reporters getting a hint you’ve been discharged. I know Dr. Famosa won’t say anything, but any one of
those nurses could leak it.”
A shot of adrenaline surged through her. Nash was right. They needed to get out of the hospital as soon as possible. Something else was bugging her, a nagging, dark feeling in the pit of her stomach she knew had nothing to do with her grief. It was almost as if something bad was about to happen.
She just couldn’t figure out what.
• • •
Cade set the two water bottles and a foam food container on the bench by the window in Maria’s room. There hadn’t been a police officer outside or her bodyguard. Cade had already had an analyst run everything on Nash Larson. Former Army, clean record, all-around stand-up guy. Cade hadn’t been able to figure why the man rubbed him the wrong way until he’d returned and found Maria gone. He didn’t like the way Larson looked at Maria in that proprietary way. It had been subtle, but something about it pissed Cade off even though he had no right to care if there was something going on between the two of them.
His focus was on the job. And now finding Maria since she’d clearly left. The bed was rumpled, but her bag was gone. He wanted to be pissed. Under normal circumstances he would be, but she’d gotten under his skin a long time ago. Then when she’d let her guard down, crying against him, it had pierced him. Normally crying women didn’t faze him. But her grief had just been so raw it punched right through his senses. He’d lost his mom at a young age and too many friends during his time overseas, so he understood what she was going through on a certain level.
Tracking her down would be a pain in the ass, but easy enough once he pinged her location. He pulled out his cell and had started to text one of the analysts so they could track her cell phone when the bathroom door slowly creaked open.
All the hairs on Cade’s arms stood up in alert as the heavy wooden door moved, inch by inch. Withdrawing his weapon, Cade silently sidestepped until he was half-hidden behind the curtain partially drawn around the empty bed.
A dark-haired man wearing tan cargo pants, black boots, and a black long-sleeved T-shirt stepped from the bathroom with a fluid stealth. He scanned the room for signs of life, his gaze landing almost immediately on Cade’s partially blocked body and raised weapon.
Instantly the man grabbed the rolling food cart and shoved it toward the bed before yanking open the door to the hall.
Cade blocked the cart and raced after the man, his weapon still clutched in his hand.
He could have wounded the intruder, but he didn’t know shit about the man or his intentions and wasn’t going to open fire in a hospital. In the hallway two nurses were helping a pregnant woman who’d clearly been knocked down to her feet. The suspect was about twenty yards ahead, shoving people out of the way as he barreled through.
Shouts of alarm filtered down the crowded hallway as Cade dodged around a man in a wheelchair. “Federal agent, move out of the way!” he shouted, the path instantly clearing as people either jumped back against the walls or were pulled back.
Cade kept his focus on the dark-haired man, who disappeared into a stairwell at the end of the hallway. Though there was a team of agents outside the hospital, he didn’t have anyone as direct backup because this was basically a babysitting job.
Apparently Maria knew something or someone thought she did. Or maybe the terrorists just wanted everyone from the party eliminated. Cade wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had to find this guy before he escaped.
He tapped his earpiece once to activate it. “This is O’Reilly. Unknown man escaping down eastern stairwell of main building, two possible exits. Parking garage or Fourteenth Street. Wearing tan cargo pants, black fatigues, and boots. Dark hair. A little under six feet.” He’d memorized the layout of the hospital and entire surrounding area, never knowing when he might need it. “Need backup. His intent is unknown, but he was hiding in Maria Cervantes’s hospital bathroom. Likely armed.” Whether the man was or not, Cade and everyone he worked with always assumed people had weapons. Their lives depended on that assumption.
He received two affirmatives as he made it to the stairwell door. Slowing his pace, he kicked open the door before carefully sweeping inside with his weapon. Pounding footsteps sounded below him, echoing off the walls.
Cade took off again, his heart rate pounding as he sprinted down the stairs. Fear for Maria raged through him as his legs ate up the distance, a new surge of adrenaline spiking through him. That man had been in her room for a reason, and the way he’d fled told Cade it wasn’t to give his condolences.
A loud slam from below and a flash of light illuminated the stairwell for a moment. Cade looked over the railing of the second floor to see the exit door into the street swinging open. “He’s taken the street exit.”
“On our way. We’re on foot because of the fucking traffic,” Taylor White growled, her normally sweet Southern accent filled with frustration.
Cade didn’t respond as he neared the exit. Once again he slowed his pace in case of an ambush. It was unlikely, considering the man was running for his life, but Cade wasn’t going to risk a bullet in the head because of carelessness.
With the relative cover of the stairwell, he scanned the area for others as he spotted the man sprinting down the sidewalk. “He’s running northwest, heading for Bayshore!” They couldn’t let him get that far.
Cars whizzed past them on Mercy Way, but Bayshore Drive was a main street full of vehicles, and with the news coverage, there were even more people at the hospital now. The guy could open fire into the crowd or carjack someone. Hell, he could have a bomb strapped onto him. After last night Cade couldn’t take the chance. “Freeze or I shoot!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the nearly thirty-yard gap between them.
The man faltered and stumbled as he looked over his shoulder.
Twenty yards now. Cade’s weapon was raised, aimed right at the guy.
“We’re behind you,” Taylor said, sounding slightly winded.
The guy must have seen the backup, because his eyes widened and he turned around, darting into the street in an attempt to escape. A truck barreled toward him. For a long moment everything seemed to move in slow motion.
Shit. No. Cade reached out as if he could stop him, but an oncoming truck slammed into the man, sending him flying across the pavement as the vehicle screeched to a stop.
He didn’t think it was a suicide attempt; the man had blindly been trying to escape. Weapon drawn, Cade approached the man, who was flat on his back, unmoving. Not even his chest rose and fell. His eyes were open, but Cade had seen enough dead people to guess this man was done for. There was a preternatural stillness only the truly dead possessed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the driver jumped from the delivery truck. “He just jumped out in front of me! I’m sorry—”
“Sir, step back to your vehicle.” Taylor and two other agents hurried onto the scene. As Taylor guided the civilian away, Cade knelt by the man and checked his pulse. There was Cyrillic writing tattooed on his neck, the ink thick and dark.
As he’d suspected, no heartbeat. He sheathed his weapon when he was sure the guy was dead. After a quick search of the body, Cade came away with two blades. No guns, though. Blood had started to pool around the dead man’s head, and a cloudy film had already started to seep into his eyes as he stared vacantly into space. Just great.
Cade looked up at a newer agent he’d never worked with before. The guy was maybe twenty-three and not part of Cade’s elite unit made up of only former military. “Call it in and get this body hauled away before the locals show up. Run his prints and someone better contact me with a name ASAP.” He looked over at Taylor, whom he’d worked with before. He trusted her to follow through.
The tall woman nodded. “I’ll call you.”
He jumped up and raced back toward the hospital, ignoring the few cars that had already stopped on the street. People had just parked and were getting out of their vehicles to see
what had happened. Under normal circumstances he would have stayed to help wrap up the scene and deal with any locals if there were problems, but he had to find Maria.
The dead man had what looked like prison tattoos on his neck, had been carrying two knives, and he’d been in Maria’s room.
Cade told himself he’d be this worried about any potential witness, but the thought of seeing Maria again, of keeping her safe, spurred him into moving faster. Whether she could be an asset to the case or not, the woman was in danger. He’d failed her before in ways he didn’t want to think about, and there was no way Cade was letting anything happen to her.
• • •
Date: October 6, 2006
To: Maria Cervantes
From: Cade O’Reilly
Subject: re: Care package
Got the Christmas tree and I hate to tell ya, but Riel’s already eaten the popcorn. I’m also pretty sure he stole all that jerky you sent me. I’ve got an idea for ornaments, though, using empty shell casings, soda cans, and small lightbulbs. I’ll send you a picture once we get the ornaments set up. Everyone’s gotten a kick out of us putting it up so damn early. It was really sweet of you to send, thanks. It’s a nice reminder of why we’re in this shithole. Sorry my e-mails have been sporadic lately, I’m back on base for a while so you should hear from me more often. At least for now.
Glad you got the shamma, the amber color reminded me of your eyes. Will you send me a picture of you wearing it?
Cade
Chapter 5
Babysitter: a bodyguard.
Lingering in the midst of the growing crowd of onlookers, he watched the scene outside the hospital unfolding with interest. One of Mihails’s men was supposed to have taken care of Maria Cervantes, but it looked as if he had failed.
He’d met Oskars once and knew the dead man was part of Mihails’s crew. Of course, he might have actually killed her, then been killed afterward. There was no way to find out just yet.
