“Miss Andrews, you are going to have to calm down, or I’ll have to give you something to relax you.”
His words have an effect on me—or my body; I don’t know which. I know I don’t want to be given more medication. I don’t want to be sedated. I know that’s what they do to patients that have suffered traumatic events and can’t control their mental state. That will not be me. I won’t let my emotions take center stage. I may have lost one life today, but there is still a chance another can be saved—no matter how small of a chance that is, I’ll take it. He needs me. And maybe I need him too.
I pull in a deep, cleansing breath, expanding my lungs to full capacity before exhaling slowly. There are tears behind my eyes, stinging and threatening to spill, but I won’t allow them. Not now. Not here. And not in front of Drago or this physician.
I’m stronger than this, both mentally and physically. I’m a woman that will not break, not right now at least. I have never shown weakness. I’m not about to start now. I will hold my shit together for as long as I have to.
“If this is too mentally taxing on you, Miss Andrews, just say the word and I’ll give you something to allow you to rest. It’s what you need the most.”
What I need the most? How dare he? He doesn’t know a damn thing about what I need the most. The two things I need the most are gone. The first, the thing I didn’t even think I wanted, at least not right not, is gone forever. The second, Gabriel, I may never find because every hour that passes makes it less likely..
All the “what ifs” start to plague my mind. The painful thoughts are distracting, but I push them deep into my subconscious where I can deal with them when the time is right. When I’m alone and have Gabe back in my arms, safe.
I. Will. Not. Break.
“No,” I bite out, letting my word lace with as much venom as I can muster. I do not need drugs. I control my emotions. But do I really? I’m hanging on to the little bit of control I have in me so that I can get out of here and find my little guy. “I don’t want more drugs.” I take another deep breath, feeling physical discomfort for the first time since waking up. Taking so much air in causes an ache on my right side, just under my breast, shooting downward. I do my best to work through it, squeezing D’s fingers until the pain releases its hold on me.
“Baby,” he soothes.
“I don’t understand,” I finally say. “We’ve used protection every time. How—”
Drago cuts me off. “Not every time.”
3
Not every time.
His voice is raw; like a confession.
Turning my head, I look at him as if he’s grown two heads.
“What do you mean, ‘not every time’?”
“I’ll leave the two of you alone. If you need anything at all just buzz for the nurse.” Dr. Thornton clears his throat before he leaves, but I gain my wits enough to stop him from reaching the door.
“Wait.” I pull my hand from between D’s, turning my attention back toward the doctor. “When will I be discharged?”
“I’m sorry?” His head rears back as if he didn’t hear me correctly.
“What can you do to rush the paperwork along so I can get out of here?”
“Detective Andrews.” He addresses me as a cop instead of a patient. “You were shot tonight. You have a mild concussion. You’ve had a miscarriage. If you were thinking clearly, you’d know we aren’t going to release you, at least not tonight. I want to keep you at least twenty-four hours for observation.”
“That doesn’t work for me.” I shove the pain to my heart at his mention of my miscarriage—that I don’t fully understand—away for now. “I need to get out of here. There was a baby kidnapped that I—”
“Bri!” Drago says from my right, but I ignore him, staring down the physician that’s keeping me from being the cop I am first. “Stop this,” he continues. “Stop with this kid. He isn’t yours. Let your department or whoever find him. You could have been killed. I could have lost you.”
“Stop what?” I yell at him, instantly regretting my outburst as shooting pain rips across my abdomen the very moment my muscles clench together in frustration.
I grab my middle, jerking my body up in the bed; the pain catching me off guard is momentarily unbearable. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before; so intense.
Drago’s hand is instantly on my back, rubbing, attempting to soothe me, but there is no amount of comfort that can make the reality of this go away. This brief, yet painful, setback doesn’t change a single thing. I still have to find Drago’s son—my sweet boy.
“Baby,” D’s voice is strained.
“Brianna!” My head snaps up, looking behind the doctor. My father stands in the doorway, his dress shirt missing his tie and unbuttoned at the collar. His dark, disheveled hair is grayer than I’ve ever seen. It’s almost enough to make me pause in my demand to leave—almost.
“Dad?” I groan from the ache that hasn’t fully died down.
He rushes around the doctor, coming to my bedside, pulling my head to his chest in a hug. It’s shocking, initially. I don’t remember the last time we’ve embraced. He used to hug me when I was little, but it wasn’t often, and then when my mom died he became more distant with Jackson and me.
“I’ll leave you all alone for now,” Dr. Thornton tells us. “But Miss Andrews, you aren’t leaving this hospital tonight, so please try to get some rest.” He leaves before I’m able to gain my wits to dispute his authority. He may be the physician treating me, but I still have a choice if I stay in this bed or not.
“Dad?” I pull back a little, making him ease up on the pressure his palm has against the back of my head, and I look up. “What are you doing here?”
“I called him.” I hear Mike’s voice from behind my father.
“Why is he here?” my father barks. Glancing upward, I see my dad looking over my head, eyeing Drago with so much disdain showing in his blue eyes. Great. Now I have this to deal with.
“I’d like to know the same,” Mike chimes in at the foot of my bed.
“You were shot!” My dad’s voice rises. “Did he have anything to do with it?” he asks me. “Are you the reason my daughter could have died today?” He redirects his questioning to Drago before I’m able to get a word out.
“Dad—” I start, but Mike intercepts.
“Is he, Bri?”
I pull away from my dad, facing a man that for the past couple of years has always seemed more of a father figure than the man that hasn’t removed his hand from my back. “Why was he at your apartment? Why is he here acting a little too acquainted with the detective that’s investigating him?”
“What?” My father goes still next to me, eyeing Mike, trying to work out what he’s just revealed.
“Can we discuss that later? What news do you have on Gabriel?”
“Bri,” Drago says in warning.
“No, Bri. Let’s not, because Tom is out in the waiting room. What do you think he’s going to ask the minute he knows you’re awake and alert? So, tell me now and then get your shit together before he gets in here and starts interrogating you.”
“Do not talk to her that way,” Drago seethes. “She’s been through enough tonight. Whatever shit you or anyone else wants to know, can wait.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I was addressing you. And no!” Mike holds up his hand, palm facing Drago. “This cannot wait. Her fucking job is on the line here.”
Drago stands, the force making the chair he was just sitting scrape across the floor. My hand juts out, wrapping around his wrist, allowing my nails to dig into the skin where the tail of his dragon tattoo sits.
“D, sit back down.”
“Brianna,” my father says, placing his hand on the railing next to me. “Please tell me you aren’t mixed-up in something with an Acerbi.”
Ignoring my father, I pull on Drago, finally gaining his attention. His head swings down, and his dark, tired eyes land on me. I silently plead thro
ugh our locked stare. I don’t need him doing anything reckless or stupid. It’ll only make matters worse. There is more on the line than just my job. In fact, that’s the least of my worries. That realization surprises me. I love my job and the work I do. I don’t want to lose it, but there is a life that matters more than a paycheck ever could.
“D, why don’t you take a walk. Take a breather.” I glance up at my dad. “You, too. I’d like to speak to Mike alone.”
Drago slides his fingers through mine, lacing them and squeezes. I turn my head back up to see the determination on this face.
“Bri, if you think I’m walking out of this room on my own accord after the bomb that doctor dropped, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did. The only way I’m leaving your side is if I’m physically forced out.”
“That very well may be a possibility, Mr. Acerbi.”
4
A chill runs down my spine. My eyes snap toward the door, seeing Deputy Chief Thomas Ramirez standing there, eyes locked with the man I shouldn’t be holding hands with. Drago tenses, his hand gripping mine a little too tight, but I try not to retract. Instead, I squeeze him back, not sure if I’m offering him support or trying to steal it for myself.
I knew this could happen. I knew I was risking my career. No one can say I wasn’t. Those thoughts have plagued me since I woke up in his bed the morning after our first time together.
Seven weeks . . .
My thoughts go back to what the doctor told me. I was seven weeks along. It’s been eight weeks since Gabriel has—had been placed in my care. I marked the calendar on my desk just a couple of days ago with a heart. I’m not even sure when I started doing it. I think it was when I stopped trying to reach Tom’s contact for witness protection—when I should have pushed my boss on the fact that I still had him. It’s my fault he’s gone. It’s my fault an innocent baby was taken. If I’d gotten through or found another way to contact Captain Williams, then Gabe would be safe. I was a fool to think I was the better person to take care of Drago’s son.
I don’t know one thing about babies. I couldn’t even carry one to term.
No!
I won’t chastise myself now. I won’t think about him or her—it. I can’t. I’ll break and right now that is the last thing I can allow myself to do.
Not here, I tell myself for the hundredth time.
“Mr. Acerbi.” Tom walks over the threshold. “Care to tell me why one of my detectives was shot by an associate of yours?”
“Unless you have a warrant, I have nothing to say to you,” Drago informs him, his voice taking on a lethal tone I’ve never heard from him. It’s eerily how he can flip and it come out so naturally.
“That could be arranged.” Tom stops a foot from Mike. “But if you’re innocent like Andrews keeps trying to persuade me to believe, then I’d think you would want to clear your name. After all, you’re the only suspect I currently have that would have a reason to hurt my detective and kidnap that child?”
“What the fuck kind of bullshit are you trying to stretch these days, Ramirez? I’m the last person that would hurt Bri.”
“Yet the first person that has a motive to take the boy.”
“Tom,” I say through gritted teeth.
Drago shakes his head, clearly not understanding my boss’s underhanded allegation. “Why is—”
“Oh.” The chief cuts him off, looking right at me, wearing a smirk. “I figured with your up close and personal relationship with my detective, she must have told you how the boy plays into the investigation.”
“What boy?” my father asks. I cut my eyes over to my dad, but I don’t answer. This isn’t the time or place. Tom knows that, so why is he acting like this, divulging things . . .
“Ramirez,” Mike says, almost coming out like a warning. Mike’s body is tense, rigid as he continues to stand at the foot of my bed, eyeing me with disappointment and pity. It pisses me off. I don’t want anyone’s pity; disappointment I can take and maybe it’s even deserved. But pity? He can take that shit and shove it up his ass.
Having enough of Mike’s stare, I scan the room until my eyes land on Tom. He raises an eyebrow, directing it at the more senior detective in the room, but Mike doesn’t seem to give a damn what our boss thinks of his tone.
“Chief . . .” I take a deep breath, shaking my head. “This isn’t the time or place for that. We should be focused on finding Sebastian Diaz, not accusing Drago of something he wasn’t a part of.”
“And you know he wasn’t how?”
My jaw locks. The sound of Houston’s voice brings out the rage that’s been sitting just under the surface of my skin. Why is he even here?
“Leave my room,” I bark, then turn my eyes back on the chief. “We can discuss this later, but not here, not with everyone in this room.”
“I want to know how you possibly think I would take that kid?” Drago demands. My gut knots, needing all of this to stop.
“Because he’s your son.”
That son of a bitch. I want to go off on my boss so badly right now, but I know it won’t do any good. It’ll only hurt me in the long run, but it doesn’t stop me from throwing venom at him through my blue eyes. I know I don’t scare him, no one does, but—
My thoughts are cut short when I realize Drago’s hand slides out of mine, leaving me cold and allowing a feeling of dread to sink in.
“Wow!” D says with a laugh, not believing Tom. He turns his gaze on me, his laughter dying the moment our eyes lock when he sees the truth I haven’t been able to tell him—not even now. “Bri?”
My dad grabs my hand, squeezing me reassuringly, and if I weren’t torn to pieces by the anger brewing behind those dark eyes I like so much, this might feel awkward. The man that has always been in charge and in control rolls off my father’s tongue smoothly, effortless, his voice takes on the superiority I’m used to. “My daughter has been through a traumatic experience. It’s time everyone leaves her room. Now.”
Lance snickers, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, nor do I even look in his direction. I ignore him as if he’s not even here.
“That isn’t possible,” Drago says on a whisper.
“I’d like you to come down to the station for a formal interview, Mr. Acerbi. If you are so innocent, that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“Tom,” I bite out. “He didn’t shoot me. He didn’t kidnap Gabriel. Diaz did. Diaz is the one you need to be looking for. What’s the status on his location?”
“That’s none of your concern anymore. Andrews,” Tom steels himself, “I’m placing you on administrative leave, pending an internal investigation. I expect you in my office the day you’re released from here. And whether IA deems any of your wrongdoings as criminal or not, I’ll make it my personal mission to strip you of your badge and gun—for good.”
5
I thought I was prepared for the consequences of my actions. But hearing Tom tell me he’ll see that I’m fired one way or another before storming out of my room has me second-guessing myself. Now I’m not so sure anymore.
“Bri, explain.” My gaze travels slowly up, meeting Drago’s hard stare. “Because that kid isn’t mine, so what the fuck?”
“He is, D.” I all but breathe that confession out.
“Andrews,” Mike barks. “Maybe you should keep your mouth closed on this before you get into deeper shit than you already are.”
“With all due respect, Mike, I’m done playing by Ramirez’s rules. I didn’t believe in them when I was handed a case that made no sense, and I don’t believe in them now that he’s pulled this BS.”
“Is your career bullshit?” he asks.
“Everything isn’t black and white.”
“You know, you sound just like them?” The Dirty Blue.
“Don’t!” I’m not one of them. I’m not like Lance Houston, because I know that sorry motherfucker is a dirty cop. I think I’ve always known it. I’m not a member of The Dirty Blue, and I
never will be.
Fuck him for even thinking it.
Mike closes his eyes, locking his jaw a second later. Upon opening them, they land back on me as he shakes his head. The disappointment is so clear in his light blue eyes.
“Do you need me to go with you when you meet with Ramirez?”
“No.” I don’t need him babying me. I don’t need him fathering me. I’m a grown woman who made her own bed and I’m prepared to lie in it. I can own up to my actions. And I can damn sure walk into Tom’s office, facing him at work. I won’t hide. I won’t let someone else assume responsibility for what is mine.
“Fine,” he grits out. “Call me if you need anything and you better be prepared for IA to be there. You’ve pissed Tom off. He’s going to be hell-bent on canning your ass.” With those last words, he leaves, leaving me with only my dad and Drago.
“D,” I whisper. “I don’t know where to start to explain it all.”
Somewhere along the way, I fucked up, and I’m not even talking about my job. I should never have gotten personal with Drago, but even as that thought comes to me, I know I never stood a chance keeping everything on a professional level. For whatever reason, I was drawn to him from the start and I should have laid it all out, telling him everything, not just pieces by leaving Gabriel out.
“How about the facts? That’s a start.” His tone is defensive and it’s understandable, but knowing that doesn’t stop the wedge that’s seeping between us.
“Your case fell into my lap when a woman dropped Gabriel off at the police station the night I happened to be on-call. She made vague accusations and that’s how it all started. She made claims that she and her baby weren’t safe—from you.”
His eyes are darting everywhere, so I’m not able to get a read on him.
“I’m not following,” my father says.
“Dad.” I look over. “Please stay out of this.”
“So.” Drago backs away from me. “You’ve had that kid in your care for”—his head shakes from side to side—“how long? And you’ve thought from the beginning he was mine, right?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “You should have told me from the first time we spoke. You should have said something, Bri.”
Dirty War Page 2
