by Sharon Sala
* * *
Detective Saldano was in the hospital lobby getting an update from Summers.
“We’ve been contacted by the FBI regarding the woman and kid. This whole incident has taken on a darker, more dangerous aspect.”
“How so?” Nick asked.
“Anton Baba is the father of the baby. They don’t know where the mother is for sure, but they assume she’s back in Baba’s possession. The two victims in the car fire were Feds, and the FBI has taken over the crime scene and the case.”
“Holy shit,” Nick muttered.
“Exactly. The Feds already took possession of the child from Social Services and are actively looking for the mother.”
“What about the biker who found the kid? The one who was shot?” Nick asked. “Are they going to protect her, too?”
“They say they will interview her when she is able to be interviewed. If she has nothing new to add to their case, they’re cutting her loose.”
Nick frowned.
“Baba won’t be that generous,” Nick said. “Her life is in danger, sir.”
Summers sighed.
“You’re probably right.”
“Are we going to put a guard on her? If they want her dead, they’ll come to the hospital and try and finish the job,” Nick said.
“I don’t have the manpower to put round-the-clock guards on her.”
Nick’s frown deepened.
“Sir, if the man who shot her comes to finish the job, maybe we could link him to Baba and take him out of circulation that way.”
“The criminal justice system has been trying to find a way to connect to that man and his crimes for years and hasn’t done it yet,” Summers said.
“There’s always a first time,” Nick said.
When his boss didn’t answer, he feared the PD was going to leave Quinn hanging, too, and then Summers spoke.
“I’ll get the guards set up. But once she leaves the hospital, she’s on her own. We do not have the budget to put someone in a safe house who has no real bearing on a homicide case that we’re not even working.”
“Thanks,” Nick said. “If it’s okay, I’ll stay here for the rest of the night. She went through a lot to get that little kid safe. I think we owe her, sir.”
“Agreed. And there will be an officer there to replace you by eight tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Nick said and disconnected.
His stride was long and hurried as he moved through the hospital lobby. By the time he got to the surgery wing, more than an hour had passed since he’d last seen the injured woman. He notified the nurses at the surgery desk that he was there on behalf of Quinn O’Meara and headed for the waiting room.
There was only one other person there when he walked in, a thirtysomething guy with curly black hair hanging well below his shoulders. He obviously spent more time in the gym than in the barbershop. The man looked up at Nick as he walked in, nodded and then looked back down at his phone.
Nick got a coffee from the coffee machine, a honey bun from the food dispenser, and sat back down to wait. He sent a text to his lieutenant to let him know he was on site and then opened the honey bun and took a bite.
The sugar was a much-needed jolt, as was the caffeine in the coffee. A quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall was a reminder that he’d been up for eighteen hours. It was a good thing tomorrow was his day off. He finished off the food, drained his coffee and went to the bathroom. When he came out, the dark-haired man was still there, still texting.
Nick sat, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, thinking again of the redhead. There was something about her that niggled at his memory. He couldn’t imagine forgetting someone who looked like that. Bloody as hell, her beauty had still been obvious—and all that red hair. Maybe she just reminded him of someone else.
* * *
Dev Bosky knew the other man in the waiting room was a cop. His gut knotted when he saw him walk in, and the urge to leave was huge. But sitting in a room with a cop was still safer than going back to Anton Baba without his son. He’d already learned the kid was no longer in the hospital but didn’t know where he’d been taken. He had contacts who could track the location of the kid later. First thing he had to do was get rid of his witness.
He’d been texting Ian for over an hour and still hadn’t heard back. That alone was worrisome. It occurred to him that Ian’s decision to go back without the kid might have been a deadly one. That fear alone was enough to keep him on task.
Three
Nick glanced at his watch. The woman had been in surgery a little over three hours, and he was beginning to worry when a doctor in green scrubs entered the waiting room.
“Who’s here for Quinn O’Meara?”
Nick stood and flashed his badge.
“I am. Detective Nick Saldano, Las Vegas Homicide.”
The doctor acknowledged Nick and then gave him the update he’d been waiting for.
“I’m Dr. Munoz. Miss O’Meara’s surgery was successful. Barring complications, she should be fine.”
“Where will you be taking her next?” Nick asked.
“She’ll be in Recovery for a while and then up to her room. Fourth floor. You can check at the nurses’ station for her room number.”
“There will be a police guard on her room until she’s released,” Nick said.
“As you see fit,” the doctor said. “But I don’t want our other patients bothered or frightened. If need be, I can have her moved to a smaller facility that might be easier to secure.”
“Understood, sir,” Nick said.
They walked out together and parted company at the door with Nick heading to the elevator.
Back in the waiting room, Dev was too keyed up to sit still. The woman was so close, but there was no way he could get to her from here without getting caught. So, they were going to put a guard on her room. That meant his only chance to get to her would be when they were moving her to the fourth floor.
He wanted to go up now and get the lay of the area, but he didn’t want it to appear as if he was following the cop, so he waited another ten minutes while he thought things out. He had a silencer. He could pop her and whoever was wheeling her to the room just as they exited the elevator, then make a run for it before anyone even noticed he was there.
After giving the cop enough of a lead, he made his way up to the fourth floor using the stairs. He noted which elevator they used to bring up surgery patients, but when he saw how close it was to the waiting room, and then realized the cop was already sitting within sight of the elevator, he knew he had to rethink his plan. He was going to have to go through the cop to get to her. Baba would be pissed if he killed a cop, but he also wanted the woman dead, so the way Dev looked at it, his job was to do what Baba sent him to do, regardless.
With a half-assed plan in place, he entered the waiting room and saw the cop on the phone. He headed for the coffee machine.
* * *
Dr. Fuentes wasted no time getting to the Baba estate, but had no idea it was Baba’s woman he would be seeing. He’d been there enough over the past few years to realize she was something of a fixture and was horrified when he saw the shape she was in.
She was lying on her bed with her back to the door and made no attempt to communicate when he came into the room. Upon closer examination, he was shocked by the condition of her bloody back and the unkempt state of her hair and clothing. He’d need to be cautious of how he worded his questions. To his relief, Anton initiated the conversation.
“Star was in a car wreck. There are other factors concerning her condition that do not affect how you need to treat her, and we will not speak of these, do you understand?”
“Yes, of course,” Fuentes said. “Where are her in
juries? If she needs X-rays I will have to have her transported to an ER, and she might require hospitalization based on the results.”
Anton frowned. It wasn’t something he’d considered, but if she had broken bones, he couldn’t ignore them. Regardless of what happened between them, having her healthy would either facilitate a cease-fire between them, or render her a whole and healthy product ready to move.
“She hasn’t spoken of any specifics except that her back hurts, which is obvious.”
Fuentes nodded, took off his jacket, gloved up and began his examination by cutting away what was left of her blouse. He hid his horror at the gouges dug into her slender back, tried to ignore the quiet sound of her weeping and kept going, checking for broken bones and anything that might indicate internal bleeding.
Anton knew the doctor was paying close attention to the change in Star’s breathing, as well as the flicker of her eyelids when he touched on something painful, but when they began to turn her over and she screamed, Anton’s heart sank. She was worse than he’d thought.
Dr. Fuentes shook his head.
“She needs X-rays for sure. There may be some cracked ribs and I fear internal bleeding. As for her back, just at a glance I see small rocks and sand in the wounds, which will require a very sterile setting to clean up. Will you please allow me to call an ambulance for her?”
Anton frowned, but he obviously had no other choice.
“Of course,” he muttered.
Dr. Fuentes cleaned his hands and then stepped out into the hall to make the call.
Anton knelt beside the bed and ran a hand down the side of her cheek.
“Star?”
Her eyes opened, piercing him with a watery blue stare.
“Let me die.”
“Then who will take care of Sammy?” he asked.
Rage flickered on her face and then disappeared.
“I am no longer his mother. You decided that. You have destroyed me. Let me die.”
He stood abruptly. She’d nailed him on that. When someone had no fear of death, he had no way to coerce them to his will. Then Fuentes stepped back into the room.
“There is an ambulance on the way. I will wait for them in the foyer.”
Anton sat down in a chair beside the bed they shared and thought about the changes yet to come.
Star was shaking. Shock and pain were moving through her in waves. The fact that Sammy had been found was such a huge relief to her that the tears she shed were tears of gratitude. And she knew something Anton had yet to learn. The two people who died in that fire were federal agents. It was only a matter of time before the Feds made their move and took him down. However, if she was still under his control when he found out, he would kill her.
A short time later the ambulance came, and the paramedics loaded Star up and took her away. Anton called for his car and a couple of his men to go with him and followed, unwilling to let her out of his sight for long.
* * *
Quinn was struggling to wake up. She didn’t remember going to bed and didn’t know where she was. All she could hear was a woman trying to wake her up. She sounded like Mrs. Treadway. Quinn didn’t like Mrs. Treadway. She wouldn’t let them have butter or jelly on their toast.
“Quinn, can you hear me?”
Quinn moaned. She was so cold she couldn’t stop shivering.
“Please, Mrs. Treadway, I don’t feel like school,” she mumbled.
The Recovery nurse smiled.
“No school, Quinn. You had surgery and you need to wake up now.”
“Cold. Hurt,” she mumbled and then tried to lick her lips. They felt swollen.
“I’ll put another blanket on you,” the nurse said.
As soon as Quinn felt the weight and the warmth of the added covers, she began to relax.
The nurse tucked the heated blanket around her and then laid a hand on Quinn’s forehead.
“Quinn, open your eyes now!”
Quinn was trying, but her lids felt too heavy. After several moments more of struggle, she finally saw light and then the face of the woman beside her.
She wasn’t Mrs. Treadway, and Quinn was no longer nine years old.
“Good girl!” the nurse said.
“Where...?”
“You’re in Centennial Hill Hospital. You had surgery on your shoulder.”
Quinn exhaled slowly as memories flooded.
“Someone shot me. There was a baby...”
“I don’t know anything about a baby. We’ll be taking you to your room in a few minutes. You can ask someone there, okay?”
Quinn let herself drift, wondering if any aspect of her life would ever get easy. This time of year, people would be chattering about holiday plans, going home to a block-party barbecue and having family over on the weekend. It all sounded so good—so ordinary. She had never lived an ordinary life.
And then the same nurse was back, patting Quinn’s arm.
“We’re going to move you to your room now. You just lie still and we’ll do the driving,” she said and giggled.
Quinn braced herself for motion, guessing it might hurt, and she was right. When they began wheeling her through the hall leading toward the elevators, she closed her eyes against the bright fluorescent light fixtures in the ceiling above and was drifting back to sleep when they suddenly stopped.
“Quinn, you’re doing great. It was my honor to take care of you, and now Thomas will take you the rest of the way to your room.”
All of a sudden Quinn was in the elevator with a stranger named Thomas. After what she’d been through, the thought unnerved her. Then she heard the orderly humming and relaxed as the car went up. When it stopped, Thomas put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“We’ll get you comfortable soon,” he said.
The doors opened as he began to push her out into the hall.
* * *
Nick had chosen a seat near the door so he could watch the elevator, and when he saw the elevator doors sliding open and the end of a bed emerging, he jumped up and went to see if it was his patient. He saw her red hair first and was about to speak to the orderly when he heard footsteps running up behind him.
The panicked expression on the orderly’s face was all the warning he was going to get. He pulled his weapon even as he was turning around. It was the man from the waiting room. He was running toward them with his gun already aimed.
Nick jumped in front of the bed. “Get her back in the elevator!” he yelled and pulled the trigger.
Thomas reacted quickly, catching the door before it closed and pulling the bed back inside just as gunfire erupted.
Dev pulled the trigger as the cop was shouting. In his haste to get off the first shot, his aim was off.
Nick leaned just the least bit to the left as he fired and saved his own life. The bullet from Dev’s gun grazed the side of his head instead of hitting him between the eyes, but for a moment Nick thought his head would explode from the pain. But it hadn’t affected his own aim. Shot in the heart, the gunman hit the floor. Nick was still standing and the man was dead.
* * *
When the two gunshots sounded only feet away from her bed, Quinn screamed in terror, certain she would die. When the orderly slammed the side of her bed against the elevator wall, she cried out again, this time from the pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Thomas exclaimed, trying to get around her bed to the button to close the door.
And then Quinn saw the cop from Homicide move into her line of vision. There was blood running down his face, and he was holding his gun in one hand and the elevator door open with the other.
“You’re bleeding!”
Thomas turned, saw the blood runni
ng down the cop’s face and leaped forward.
“You’ve been shot!” he said.
Nick’s head was pounding. He ran a finger through the groove the bullet had left in the side of his head and shuddered. That was close. Too close.
“It’s just a graze. Are you two all right?” Nick asked.
“Yes,” Thomas said.
“Then get her to her room, stat,” Nick said and began helping the orderly get the bed back out of the elevator.
Nurses were running toward them. They already knew he was a cop and that he was there to guard a witness in one of his cases, so there was no mistaking what must have happened.
Nick flashed his badge.
“Get her to her room and stay with her. Don’t let anybody in but the police,” Nick said.
One nurse grabbed Nick by the arm.
“Are you hit anywhere else?” she asked.
“No.”
“You need to get to ER. I’ll go get a wheelchair,” she said, then hesitated when she glanced at the shooter and the blood spilling out onto the floor beneath him.
“What about him?” she asked.
“He’s dead. Forget me right now and get her out of the hall. He may not be the only one after her.”
Quinn was scared. The man standing at the foot of her bed was bleeding, and everyone was running madly around her.
“What’s happening?” Quinn cried.
Nick heard the fear in her voice and turned around. Their gazes locked, and for a heartbeat everything faded. It was just him watching her eyes fill with tears.
“It’s okay, Miss O’Meara. You’re safe.” He grabbed the orderly by the arm. “Move her now!”
After that, panic ensued as the RN on duty began issuing orders to put the floor on lockdown.
“Step aside!” Thomas yelled. “Coming through.” He rushed her down the hall and into her assigned room.
Nick was watching them go when the thundering sound of running feet echoed up a stairwell. He turned with his gun already aimed, only to see a team from Hospital Security coming through the exit door and out onto the fourth floor with weapons drawn.
