Brendan.
Cilla charged toward the half-open door down a small hallway. The sharp, acrid smell of gunpowder swirled through the air. Her hand was slippery with sweat. She switched the gun to her other hand and wiped her palm down her thigh. Then gripped the gun again, her finger curling around the trigger.
Why the hell hadn't he waited for her?
She burst through the door. Brendan and Tiffany were both down. Tiffany wasn't moving. Blood poured out of her side. Brendan was struggling to get up, while blood ran down his head and dripped onto the floor.
Anson Bates spun around to face her. His features were contorted with rage, but his hand was rock-steady as he lifted his gun.
She didn't want to shoot him. They needed answers from him. But she pointed her gun at his chest. "Put the gun on the floor, Bates. Do it now."
Bates stared at her. Cilla watched his eyes. Saw the moment he made up his mind.
As he lifted his gun, she swept out her leg. Hooked one of his and brought him crashing to the floor. His gun clattered across the hardwood, and he reached for his ankle. For his back-up piece.
Cilla stepped on his wrist. Put more weight on it as Bates struggled. As he reached for her with his other hand, she put all of her weight on his arm. The sickening snap of a bone breaking echoed as loud as the earlier gunshots.
Bates screamed, and Cilla snatched a small gun from Bates's ankle holster. Tossed it in the corner with the other gun. Then she slapped handcuffs around his wrists. He screamed again, but she ignored him as she scrambled over to Brendan.
There was so much blood.
Brendan had staggered to his feet and stood there, swaying. "Brendan," she said, wrapping her hand around his arm. "You need to sit down."
As she held onto him, she fumbled her phone out of her purse with one hand and dialed 911.
"Officer down," she said as soon as the operator answered. "Officer down. At the Seven Club. This is Detective Cilla Marini. We need three buses. Hurry."
"Where in the club are you located?" The calm voice of the 911 operator made Cilla swallow. Take a deep breath.
"Upstairs." Cilla exhaled. "There's a hallway at the top of the stairs. We're in a room at the end. Please hurry."
"Ambulances are on the way," the woman said. "Stay on the line."
Cilla touched 'end call' and dropped the phone on the floor.
Something moved against her leg. She spun around and saw Bates's foot kicking against her leg. Trying to trip her. Dropping Brendan's arm, she walked over to Bates and kicked him in the side.
"I told you not to move." She brushed the toe of her shoe over his broken arm. "Want a reminder?"
"Jesus, Cilla! Stop! What the hell are you doing?"
Brendan's arms closed around her from behind. He lifted her into the air and dragged her away from Bates.
Cilla struggled to separate herself from him. She shoved his arms away as she spun to face him, but he held onto her wrists. "He tried to kill you, Donovan! Or don't you feel that blood running down your face? Let me go, damn it." She tried to pry his hands away from her wrists, but they were like iron bands. Finally she crushed her fingernails into his fingers until his grip loosened.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Brendan? Why didn't you wait for me? I'm your partner. I'm supposed to back you up. But you don't want a partner, do you?"
She was shoving him back, back until he bumped into the wall. "You had to be a god-damned cowboy and go off on your own. You don't want anything from me, do you? Not even my help on this case."
"Cilla." Brendan began to slide down the wall. "I need. I don't want...."
His eyes rolled back and he slumped to the side. Unconscious.
She pressed her fingers to his neck. Felt the flutter of his pulse. Saw the slow rise and fall of his chest.
The floor vibrated with the muffled thump of the music below them. "What were you thinking, dumbass?" She dropped to her knees in front of him and shuddered in a deep breath. "Taking off like that. Not waiting for me to back you up. I never was your partner, was I? Not really.
"I thought you'd changed. But you didn't. You're still reckless. Impulsive. You could have gotten yourself killed, you idiot."
Drops of liquid fell steadily onto his chest. Tears. She was crying.
She wiped her face on the sleeve of her silk shirt, praying for him to move. To wake up. But he lay motionless. She pressed her palm against the wound on his head, trying to stop the bleeding. But the blood continued to seep between her fingers and drip onto the floor.
He took ninety-seven breaths before she heard the approaching wail of the ambulance. Twenty more before she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs.
"Wake up, Brendan," she said, her voice shaking. She laid her hand on his neck, feeling the ragged beat of his heart. "The EMT's are here. You better wake up or they're going to haul your ass to the hospital."
Nothing.
Moments later, three men and a woman crowded into the room. The woman and one of the men crouched next to Brendan. The other two men hurried over to Tiffany.
More footsteps on the stairs. Another set of EMTs who headed for Bates. Moments later, Connor and Mia burst into the room. "What the hell happened?" Mia cried, dropping onto her knees next to Brendan. "Bren." She cupped her brother's face in her palm. "Wake up, buddy. Come on." Mia blinked, and a tear rolled down her face. "You're scaring your partner. And me, too."
"Ladies, please move away so we can treat him," the woman EMT said quietly. "Please," she said more firmly as neither of them moved.
Finally Mia took Cilla's arm and pulled her to her feet. Led her to the corner. "What happened?" she asked.
How could Mia be so calm? Her brother was slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath him. Unconscious.
"Bates shot him," she finally said, watching the cuffed man on the floor. He was squirming toward the corner. Toward the gun.
She walked over and tore a piece off Bates's shirt. Used it to pick up the first gun. Handed it to Mia, then picked up the second one. "First one is the one he used to shoot Brendan and Tiffany. This is his back-up piece. It already has my prints on it."
Connor stepped between her and Mia. "Let's go downstairs," he said, herding them toward the door. "They're going to load Bren into the bus and get him to the hospital."
Cilla shook off his hand. "I have to take Bates in. Book him."
Connor cupped her elbow. "Bates is going to the hospital. So is Tiffany. Come on, Cilla. Mia and I will drive you over."
* * *
After what seemed like hours, the door to the treatment area of the emergency room opened and a young woman in a gray lab coat stepped into the waiting room. One pocket bulged with a stethoscope, and spots of blood dotted her coat.
Brendan's blood? Cilla swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
"Family of Brendan Donovan?" she called.
His whole family had come. Just like this morning at the vet's. Now, they all hurried over to the doctor.
Cilla hung back, feeling awkward and out of place. Alone, even with Brendan's family surrounding her.
"I'm Doctor Carson." Her gaze skipped over the crowd, and she smiled. "Detective Donovan is going to be fine. He has a wound on the side of his head from the bullet, but it's basically just a graze. He also hit his head when he fell, and he has a mild concussion. I'm keeping him overnight as a precaution, but he can go home tomorrow."
Cilla's legs wobbled, and she sank into a chair. He was fine.
His family's voices rose as they all asked questions at once, and the doctor held up her hand. "We're transferring him to a room right now. Once he's settled, you can see him. The triage nurse will have his room number."
Cilla dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms into her eyes. Brendan had been shot in the head. Because he'd been reckless and careless. Too impatient to wait for her to back him up.
A few more inches, and he'd probably be dead.
Her throat swell
ed and her hands shook. She'd fallen in love with a man who wouldn't grow up. Who didn't stop and think before he acted.
A man who couldn't deal with a real, adult relationship.
Her heart twisted in her chest with a physical pain that made her catch her breath. Her eyes throbbed and burned. She wanted to sob out her pain and her anger and her grief. But she wouldn't do it in front of his family.
She drew a deep, shaky breath. Then another. The murmured voices of Brendan's family flowed around her. The sound steadied her. One of them would take care of Brendan. They'd watch him tonight, check to make sure he was okay.
One of them would take him home tomorrow. Stay with him.
Knowing it wouldn't be her was a crushing weight on her chest.
She ached to be with him. She needed to watch him breathe as he slept. Hold onto that proof he was alive.
But she couldn't do it.
She loved him. And because she did, she couldn't sit beside him as he smiled at her. Flirted with her. Showed her the outer Brendan Donovan, but hid his true self, his heart, from her.
She had to protect herself. Sitting beside him as he further distanced himself would completely destroy her already-shattered heart. She needed to bury her anguish deep inside and focus on her job.
Bates needed to be interrogated. She had to find out who else was involved. Round them up. DEA agent Nick Romano from the pub was the first one on her list.
And Welles. She had to hound the lab for the results of his DNA test. See if it matched any of the victims. Make sure Welles stayed in jail until he could be tried.
She needed to talk to Internal Affairs about the twenty-second district.
It would take a while to tie up all the loose ends. She would focus on that and try to push Brendan to the back of her mind.
After that? She'd figure it out later.
Before she left, though, she had to see him with her own eyes. Make sure he really was going to be all right.
She'd allow herself one more moment with him.
A long hour later, the triage nurse approached them. "Detective Donovan is in Room 847. You can go up and see him now, if you like."
She held back when everyone else crowded into Brendan's room. Finally she stepped in, lingering at the back of the room. Brendan was in the bed, gauze around his head, smiling at his family. They were all talking to him, touching him, hugging him.
He was awake. Still pale, ragged, but awake.
His family was here for him. Every single one of them.
For a long moment, she watched and envied Brendan. The Donovans were the kind of family she'd always wanted. Warm. Loving. Caring.
She'd work on that, she vowed silently. She'd make sure that she, Livvy, Sam and their mom had that kind of mutually supportive relationship.
As she watched Brendan and his family, he looked around. "Where's Cilla?" he asked, frowning.
She stepped forward, staying behind his siblings. "Right here, Donovan."
He held out his hand. "C'mere."
Cilla slid past his brothers and their girlfriends until she stood beside the bed. Brendan wiggled his fingers, and she took his hand. It closed around hers, cool and dry. "You okay?"
"I think I should be asking you that. How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. Other than that, just great."
She wanted to climb onto the bed and curl into his side. Hold him while he slept. Make sure he wasn't cold or uncomfortable.
Before she could succumb to temptation, she needed to get out of this room. Out of the hospital. So she took a deep breath. Focus on the job. On the case. "Bates is in custody," she began. "He'll be booked and questioned tomorrow, when he's released from the hospital. Tiffany is in surgery, but they think she'll be okay." Cilla swallowed and pasted a smile on her face. "We did a good job, Donovan."
Brendan frowned. "Wait. Why is Bates in the hospital?"
"He broke his arm. Needed surgery."
"How did he break his arm?"
"Resisting arrest."
"Tell me what happened." Brendan patted the bed, looking for the button that would raise the head of the bed.
"You don't remember?"
He shook his head, and she said, "Later. You'll hear all the details. Right now, you need to take it easy. Be with your family."
She squeezed his hand, leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "We could have been great together, Brendan." Then she stood up straight and let him go. "I'll see you around, Donovan."
She turned and walked out of his room without looking back.
Chapter 30
In the ER waiting room, Cilla called an Uber car to take her home. When the car arrived, she slid in and gave the driver her address. He grunted and pulled away from the curb.
As the car merged into traffic, Cilla looked out the back window as the hospital receded. She was leaving her heart behind, and her chest was as empty as a dry well. Nothing but a vast space where her heart used to be.
And now she was going back to her quiet, lonely apartment.
Leaving her heart in that hospital room with Brendan.
Wrapping her arms around her shivering body, Cilla said, "Would you mind turning up the heat?"
"It's seventy degrees." The driver glanced in the rear view mirror.
"Cold in the hospital," she managed to get out, teeth chattering.
"Okay. No problem."
As he reached for the controls, she pictured her place. It would be cold there, too.
Cold wherever she went.
Maybe if she wasn't alone, she wouldn't be so cold. She leaned forward again. "I'm really sorry. It's been a bad evening. I need to go someplace else."
The driver shrugged. "It's your money."
Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the car at her sister's apartment. After handing the driver some bills, she walked inside the building.
The doorman recognized her from her last visit and nodded as she headed toward the elevator. Two minutes later, she was knocking on Livvy's door.
Livvy pulled it open, studied Cilla for a second and pulled her inside. "Cill. What's wrong? What happened? Is that your blood?"
Cilla swayed on her high heels and burst into tears. She pressed her fingers to her face. She'd scrubbed her hands, but dried blood lingered beneath her fingernails. The harsh, metallic smell reminded her of Brendan, lying in his own blood. She tried to stop crying, but sobs wracked her chest.
Livvy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up," she murmured. "Out of those clothes. Then you can tell me what happened."
A long time later, she lay curled up next to Livvy in her queen-sized bed. She was hollow. Barren. She'd told her sister everything. "What do I do, Liv?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Olivia smoothed a hand over Cilla's hair. "Not sure there's much you can do, Cill. You can't make him grow up. Can't make him love you." She squeezed Cilla's hand. "God, baby, I'm so sorry. He's an asshole."
"He's not," Cilla said immediately. "He's a good guy. We just want...we want different things, I guess."
"You've got it bad," her sister said. "He broke your heart but you're still defending him."
"I knew what he was," Cilla said, rolling onto her back and staring at the white ceiling. Picturing Brendan's smiling face. "I should have kept my distance, but I couldn't." God. She'd wanted him from the moment he stepped out of his car on the Ryan Expressway. "It's not his fault. He never lied to me."
Cilla turned her head to study her sister. "Feels strange coming to you for help," she said quietly.
"I've always wanted to be there for you," Olivia replied. "But you never seemed to need our help. You were always so confident. So sure of yourself. I'm sorry I failed you, Cilly."
"No, I think I failed you," Cilla said slowly. "And Sam. And Mom, too. I guess I thought that was my role in the family. To fix stuff. But I was denying all of you the opportunity to fix stuff for me,
wasn't I? Denying you the chance to feel as if you could help me."
"Yeah, maybe," Livvy said. "But it doesn't have to be that way. You came to me tonight, and I'm so glad you did." She nudged Cilla. "Ask Sammy to get you Cubs tickets. Make him come through for you."
"Maybe I will." She glanced at her sister, feeling a little lighter. "I'll start using all of you shamelessly. You want to go to a game with me?"
"Sounds good. We'll have hotdogs, beer and yell ourselves silly."
"I'd like that," Cilla said, her eyes prickling. It would have been fun to go with Brendan. Listen to his snarky remarks about the Cubs, tease him about the Sox.
"Think you can sleep?" Livvy asked quietly.
Cilla had talked for more than an hour, and she was numb. Completely drained. "I guess." She threw back the blankets and tried to stand up, but Livvy pulled her back.
"Where are you going?"
"To sleep on the couch."
"Don't be an idiot," her sister said. "Sleep here. It's a lot more comfortable. And it won't be the first time we shared a bed. Remember that trip we took to Florida when we were both in college?"
"Yeah. You booked us into a complete rat hole," Cilla said, her mouth curling into a tiny smile. "With one bed. And roaches."
"No cockroaches here. So go to sleep, Cill." She waited until Cilla laid back down, then Livvy whispered, "Things will look better in the morning."
They wouldn't. In the clear light of day, it would hurt even more. But Cilla closed her eyes and tried not to feel. Tried to make her mind a blank slate.
Everything faded away except Brendan. Images of him ran in a loop in her head. Smiling. Kissing her. Holding her.
Her head resting on the wet pillow, she shivered until she fell asleep.
* * *
Brendan woke to the sharp scent of hospital disinfectant and the weak light of a hospital room. Lights flashed on a machine next to his bed, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman sprawled in the chair beside his bed.
For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was there. Then the memories swept in. Running up the stairs after Bates. Leaping for the guy a moment too late to stop him from shooting Tiffany. Watching Bates lift his gun while Brendan reached for his own Sig. The sharp, searing pain in his head. The blackness.
Cover Me Page 29
