by Karen Rose
Of course, Adam knew he’d just proven Isenberg right. He couldn’t lead this case, not with the way he felt about Meredith. But he’d fight that battle later. Now he needed to see her. To touch her so that he could know she was all right.
At least Deacon had his head on straight. Adam had left his cousin in the parking lot, managing their newest crime scene. He’d barely listened to anything he’d been told.
I need to see her. He looked in the small window in the door of each ER bay until he found Meredith, her dark red hair in striking contrast to the white of her pillow, and his knees actually buckled. He straightened them immediately, locking them in place. He couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Not until he got her back to safety and he was alone.
Then he’d fucking fall apart.
He stood by her closed door, looking in the window, getting a grip on himself. Meredith lay in the bed, her eyes closed. She wore a pair of faded blue hospital scrubs. Mallory sat at her side, also dressed in scrubs, clutching her hand. Both of them were alarmingly pale and Meredith had a raw scrape on her cheek that was starting to bruise.
A growl rose in his throat. Sonofabitch had hurt her. Again.
But she’s alive. He kept telling himself that. She’s alive.
The two Feds who’d been on guard duty hadn’t fared as well. One was in serious condition, the other critical. Both had been shot with a silenced gun and handcuffed. Their radios, phones, and service weapons had been stolen.
The shooter was in the wind, having made his escape in a stolen car. This time, though, he’d left things behind—his SUV, which Kate had disabled, his rifle, which Kate had thankfully stolen, and most importantly, his DNA. There was blood all over the asphalt, most of it his. Some of it was Kate’s. None of it was Mallory’s or Meredith’s.
Adam leaned against the door, resting his forehead on the wood, trying to gather his composure. Three times. Three times now I’ve almost lost her.
“Adam?”
He rolled his head sideways to see Dani coming out of the ER bay next door. He frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Kate’s secondary emergency contact,” she said. “I’ve already called Decker.”
“How’s he doing?” Adam asked, now feeling totally numb.
Dani rubbed his back, her touch so soothing that his eyes stung for no good reason. “Like you’d expect. He’s frantic, but she’s talked to him on the phone, so he knows she’s physically okay. Mostly. Her arm’s a mess. The guy had a knife. It took eighteen stitches to close the wound, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage.”
Adam blinked hard, his forehead still resting on the door. It was like his head weighed four hundred pounds. He couldn’t seem to hold it up. “Physically?”
“Emotionally, she’s a wreck,” Dani said quietly. “This happened on her watch and . . . well, I’ve never seen her like this.”
“What exactly did happen?” Adam asked.
“You need to ask her. I’m just here to give back rubs,” she said, then kissed his cheek. “Convince yourself that Mer’s okay, then talk to Kate. And be gentle with her.”
A wave of guilt crashed over him. “I’m sorry, Dani,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Her smile was sweet. “For what?”
“For being such an asshole this past year that you’d think you had to tell me that.”
She rubbed her cheek against his upper arm, like a cat nuzzling its human. “I accept your apology. You were in pain. I only hope that one day you’ll tell me why.”
“I will. But I can’t right now.”
“I know, honey. Go on in and see Mer. You’ll both feel better.”
“Okay.” He pushed himself off the door. “Wait. Where’s Clarke?”
“Two doors down. They want to check him out before they release him. He might have a concussion, and at his age they’re going to proceed cautiously.” Her cheeks grew abruptly flushed. “Diesel’s in with him, so he’s not alone.”
“But Diesel hates hospitals.”
Dani winced. “I know. Poor guy. But he’s managing.”
Because he’s needed. Adam understood that all too well. “Mallory’s sitting in there with Meredith, so I assume she’s unhurt.”
“Again, physically unhurt. At the end of it all, Mallory saved Meredith by slashing the shooter’s face, but she’s not really there right now. Close as we can figure it, she was kind of catatonic with Meredith standing between her and the shooter. He threw Meredith off her—that’s where the abrasion on Meredith’s face came from—and that apparently shocked Mallory into action.” Dani sighed. “But she’s crawled back into herself again. Hasn’t said another word.”
“Dammit.” He blinked hard to clear his head. Mallory is the target. He was furious with himself for missing it, for not even considering it after the restaurant shooting. But Andy had pointed his gun at Meredith and the second shot was aimed at Meredith. And Voss had been involved, somehow. And he’d been stalking Meredith.
Still, I should have at least considered it. Goddammit.
Dani patted his shoulder. “Why are you still standing here?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out because Dani was right. He’d sped to the hospital like a bat out of hell, his only objective to see her, to touch her. But now that he was here? He stood outside her door, unable to push it open.
He closed his eyes, shuddering out a breath. “I almost lost her. Again. And . . . I don’t know what to say to her.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just hold her. Let her know you’re there.”
He shook his head miserably. “She’s there for everyone. How do I be there for her?” He opened his eyes, met Dani’s as she smiled at him kindly. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You don’t know if you can, or you don’t know if you can without breaking down?”
“The second one,” he admitted. “She’s been through enough tonight without watching me cry like a . . .” He cut himself off before he said “like a girl.”
“Like a person who cares about another person?” she asked. “Adam, your father was wrong. It’s okay to have feelings. And it’s okay to cry. If you go in there and break down, hell, if you cry like Niagara-freaking-Falls, that’s okay. The world continues to spin. Now get your ass in there. Don’t make me tell you again,” she added in a mock-scolding tone.
He nodded, squaring his shoulders. He could do this. He could be Meredith’s strength tonight. Except for the Niagara-freaking-Falls part. He didn’t cry. He just . . . didn’t.
Drawing a breath, he pushed the door open and stepped into the tiny little room. Tongue-tied for several hard beats of his heart, he settled for a soft, “Hey.”
Meredith opened her eyes with a start. “Adam.” Her eyes welled, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t aware of moving, but he must have because he was sitting on the bed, dragging her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. Whispering words he couldn’t hear over the pounding in his ears. “Not your fault, baby. Not your fault. Why are you sorry?”
She was shaking her head. Her whole body was shaking, so he held her tighter. “I shouldn’t have come here. I knew it was just a headache. We never should have come.”
“Sweetheart.” He rocked her where they sat. “You’re hurt and you’re scared, so I’m going to give you a pass on that very ridiculous thing you just said. Of course you should have come. This is a hospital, and you were hurt. Unless you’re a soothsayer, you could not have predicted any of this. So stop blaming you and start listening to me.” He pulled back, tugging her chin up so that she looked at him, her eyes wild with regret and residual fear. “You’re all right. Mallory’s all right, and Kate and your grandfather both got a little banged up, but they’ll be all right, too.”
“The Feds?” Meredith challeng
ed. “They might die.”
Adam wondered how the shooter had gotten the jump on two Feds, but kept the question to himself for now. “But they’re not dead yet.” He swiped under her eyes with his thumbs, taking care with her scraped cheek. He kissed her mouth tenderly. “You did not invite a sociopath to grab Mallory any more than you invited Andy Gold to try to kill the two of you yesterday. Okay?”
He waited until she nodded, then gave her another soft kiss. “Okay,” he said. He glanced at Mallory, who stared at him with the disconcerting intensity of one of the kids from Children of the Corn. “We have learned one extremely valuable fact tonight. You weren’t the target at Buon Cibo yesterday, Meredith. Mallory was.”
Meredith nodded, sniffling. “I know. I begged him to take me instead, but he told me he didn’t want me.”
Adam’s blood ran cold. He could see her offering herself in trade all too clearly. “Start at the beginning. Tell me what happened.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 9:40 p.m.
Meredith finished relaying everything she knew, deleting anything she’d said that remotely resembled an offer to sacrifice herself. Adam had gone so very still when she’d told him that she’d begged the gunman to take her instead. He’d backed away then, his expression carefully blank, so very controlled. Like if he let himself go, he’d shatter.
So she didn’t tell him about any of the other things she’d said.
“I kept shooting,” she finished. “I know I hit him at least twice in the chest, but my shots may have gone wide there at the end. My hands were shaking,” she admitted. “He just kept coming. He wouldn’t stop.” Her voice had trembled, so she paused and dug deep for her composure. “I either missed completely, or he was that determined. Maybe both.”
“And then?” he asked brusquely, but he took her hand and held it between his.
That helped. So much. She drew a breath. “And then I was out of bullets so I just . . . waited.” He shuddered, but didn’t break eye contact. “He pushed me aside and that’s when Mallory cut him with her knife. He was . . . demented. Screaming at us.”
“But still wearing his mask?” he asked.
“Yes. I never saw his face. Just his eyes, but it was dark and I couldn’t tell you what color they were. Well”—she frowned, thinking—“I did see his jaw, because Mallory got him with the knife. Part of the mask was ripped back and he was bleeding. He didn’t have any noticeable markings, though. No beard or scars or anything.”
“Did you see his skin?”
“Yes. It was pale. He was definitely Caucasian. Anyway, he reared up, yelling, and that’s when Kate shot him in the arm. I . . .” She closed her eyes, the emotions rushing back. “I’d thought Kate was dead. She was crumpled on the ground and I’d heard a shot and then a crunching noise. I thought he’d thrown her against the SUV. I don’t know what happened.”
“I’ll talk to her when we’re done,” he said evenly. “But she’s going to be okay. Dani said she needed a lot of stitches, but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage.”
“Oh God,” Meredith breathed. “That’s so good to hear. Is Decker coming?”
“Dani’s called him. I’m sure he is.” He squeezed her hand. “Then Kate shot the attacker?”
“Yeah. His arm was kind of hanging there and he made a run for it. Then I heard the sirens and, I mean, it was like . . . I lost it then.” She looked at Mallory. “And then Mallory was holding me and I knew she was okay, and then Kate came and we just . . . We were done.”
He drew a breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring. His jaw was clamped so tight that it was a wonder she didn’t hear his teeth cracking. He blinked slowly, several times. Gathering his control, his composure, much like she had.
Finally, he turned to Mallory. “Do you have anything to add, honey?” he asked, his tone so gentle that Meredith had to shove back a sudden sob that took her by surprise.
Meredith didn’t expect Mallory to say a word. She hadn’t during the entire ordeal. But Mallory nodded.
“They saved me,” she whispered. “Mer and Kate. Mer wouldn’t let him have me. She did beg him to take her instead. And I was so scared that I couldn’t tell her to stop. I just lay there, like a useless slug.” Self-contempt dripped from her barely audible words.
“Mallory—” Meredith started, but Mallory whipped her hand up.
“My turn,” she gritted out. “It is my turn to talk.”
Meredith pressed back into the pillow, startled. “Okay.”
“She ran after me and offered to trade herself. And when Kate came and held her gun to the man’s head, Meredith grabbed me out of the SUV and carried me for . . . I don’t know how far. I kept telling myself to move. Move. Help. But it was like I was frozen.”
“But you did move,” Meredith said softly. “You did help.”
“Not enough.” Mallory turned so that she spoke to the wall. “What she’s not telling you is that she told him that he’d have to kill her first. I thought he was going to.”
Adam’s eyes darted to Meredith’s face and there was no disguising his anguish. He swallowed hard. Then he drew a breath and the anguish tempered, morphed. Became something like pride. The pressure on her hand increased until it was almost painful.
“Any of us would have done the same, Mallory,” he said, still so gentle.
Oh God. This is the man I knew a year ago. This is the man I’ve waited for. Meredith’s eyes welled and she blinked quickly to clear her eyes.
Mallory’s lips trembled. “Why?”
His smile was so damn sweet it nearly broke her heart. “Because you’re ours now,” he said. “And we take care of what’s ours.”
And that, Meredith thought, was that. Her heart he’d nearly broken . . . it belonged to him, cracks and all. To take care of and to keep. She’d never really had any choice.
Bowing her head, Mallory wrapped her arms around herself, her sobs quiet yet forceful. “I thought he was going to kill you.”
Meredith smoothed Mallory’s hair. “But he didn’t. Because you saved me.”
“That was remarkably brave,” Adam added. “And we’re all grateful.” He cleared his throat. “I’m grateful,” he added gruffly.
Locking eyes with his, Meredith brought their joined hands to her cheek and held them there. His eyes were no longer remote and expressionless, no longer filled with anguish or even pride. They burned with something far more. He rubbed a thumb over her lips and for a moment it was like they were alone in a lovely bubble.
Then Mallory looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “I knew him.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, December 20, 9:50 p.m.
I knew him. Adam exchanged a shocked look with Meredith at Mallory’s whispered words. She hadn’t known, either.
“You knew the man who tried to abduct you tonight?” he asked carefully.
Mallory nodded, looking so damn weary. Looking years older than eighteen. She hung her head, more out of exhaustion than shame, Adam thought.
“I told you once that I asked a stranger to use her phone,” she whispered. “While he kept me.” For six years her captor had held her, abusing her on the Internet for millions of pedophiles to see. “I called the police and told them what he was doing to me. The police came. And one of them recognized me from online. Told him that he wouldn’t tell if he could . . . you know.”
“Rape you, too,” Meredith said quietly.
Adam hated this story. Hated that it was true, that it had happened. That it had happened to Mallory. Hated that they’d found no trace of her call to the police. Hated that they’d found no evidence that any cop had ever investigated her call for help. He hated that she’d been raped by anyone, much less by a cop who should have protected her.
Oh my God. His stomach lurched as his brain put the pieces together. She’d k
nown her attacker tonight. It was the same guy. This is a cop doing this. A cop killing to protect his secrets. His gaze collided with Meredith’s, and he saw that she’d come to the same conclusion.
He left Meredith’s side to crouch next to Mallory so that he could hear every nuance of her answers. “This was the guy tonight? The cop?”
“No. His friend.”
He kept his voice calm, grateful Mallory trusted him enough to tell him this. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it was for her to say. “The cop brought a friend?”
“Yes. Several.”
He swallowed hard. “Mallory, I don’t know all the details from what happened before, because I wasn’t on your case. So can you tell me now about his friends that came with him? Were they cops?”
“I don’t know. Some of them? Maybe?”
“Was the guy who grabbed you tonight?”
“I don’t know,” she said again, desperately. “But I knew his voice.” She was shaking. “He hurt me.” Mallory gripped her hands together so hard her knuckles were white.
“Okay,” he soothed. “Can you describe any of them?”
“They wore masks. But the cop had a birthmark. Or maybe a scar. It was on his chest. By his heart. His friend . . . I don’t know. I only knew his voice.”
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I hate to ask you all these questions.”
“I understand,” Mallory whispered hoarsely.
“Can you describe the birthmark?”
“It was red. Looked like a burn? It might have been a burn.”
“Dark red? Pink?”
“Medium red.”
“Okay. And the shape?”
“Square, but slanted. Like a diamond, almost.” Her voice had thinned and her body swayed and he worried that she’d collapse where she sat. She had a spine of steel, but at the same time was so very fragile. Brittle. He feared he’d snap her if he pushed too hard.
“All right.” He’d stop for now, resume later if he needed to. “Thank you.”
Meredith drew a deep breath. Let it out in a weary gust of air. “What now?”
“We regroup, have another look at the evidence. Come up with a new plan. Because this changes everything.” Especially if they were looking for a goddamn cop.
