by Anya Nowlan
Hailey and Troy lounged on the couch, she on one side and he on the other, their legs tangled in the middle. Having Troy so close, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, filled Hailey with a sense of calm and comfort.
Especially since she no longer had that little voice in her head whispering “he’s a no-good criminal” to her whenever he was around.
We can get through this, together.
They both smelled like soap and Troy’s hair was still slightly damp. He looked as delicious as ever, dressed casually in loose-fitting jeans and a cotton tee that hung off his shoulders, emphasizing his wide frame. Apparently The Firm thought of everything, including providing clothing for their operatives at the safehouses, if they happened to show up drenched in blood and guts.
Hailey was clad in fresh clothes as well, having thrown away the blood-soaked ones, and was feeling more like herself.
Or as much as herself as she could, under the circumstances.
“We have to come up with a plan. We can’t keep running, especially with a kid on the way. That’s no life,” Troy said, pulling her calf into his lap and slowly stroking it.
“I know,” Hailey sighed, as tingles went through her whole body.
She just wanted a couple more hours of blissful quiet, to relax close to him and not think about anything at all. Sadly, it was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
“I’ve talked to my handler.”
So that’s what he had been doing when she was in the shower. Hailey thought she had heard the murmur of his voice under the sound of water.
“Even under these... extraordinary circumstances, The Firm will only extract me unless there are really strong extenuating circumstances for The Firm. We’ll have to find another way to get you out of the Crimson Claws’ sights.”
There was a slight bitterness to Troy’s voice and Hailey gathered he was not very happy with his employers right about now. His expression was steely and clouded. She had to admit it wasn’t exactly the best news, but she found herself largely unperturbed.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll find another way.”
Hailey was well aware of how naïve she sounded, but she didn’t care. She had to believe the good guys would come out on top eventually. Too many bad things had happened and their luck was bound to turn. It was something she felt it in her bones, as silly as that sounded.
“Yes, we will,” Troy confirmed, eyes locking onto hers.
Hailey weighed their options, pushing her brain into gear.
“I’ve been looking into how the Crimson Claws operate, hoping to gather enough evidence to leverage my findings into police protection, but I don’t think what I have is enough.”
Troy rubbed his stubbled jaw and pursed his lips, thinking it over.
“What did you find?”
Hailey took a breath, trying to remember all the details she’d learned during her research.
“I’ve tied together some older case files with very similar M.O.s. I could probably prove the existence of an overarching criminal organization and identify the members I’ve seen, but my word alone wouldn’t be enough to actually put anyone behind bars. I’d need someone to corroborate my findings,” she answered, running through all the data she collected in her mind.
“That’s a start. The D.A. already has an investigation underway, we could offer her what you have.”
Troy seemed to momentarily get lost in thought, head falling to his chest. When he looked up, a grin spread across his face. It had been too long since Hailey had seen a genuine smile from him. It made her own mood lift instantly.
“And they might already have a corroborating witness on hand for you.”
A lightbulb went off in Hailey’s head.
“Rogers! Of course! Do you think he’s already spilling his guts?” she asked, sitting up straight.
“Even if he’s not, I’ve got a feeling he could be persuaded,” Troy replied, that mischievous gleam she remembered so well back in his eye.
“But with that River guy tying up loose ends, wouldn’t it make sense for Rogers to be up next? The Claws can’t just be relying on the fact that he might not talk,” Hailey thought out loud, suddenly worried. “They could have him killed, or his family. No way do they not have contacts in the police force.”
This is the best shot we’ve got. We can’t let them take out Rogers.
“You’re right, River just might be desperate enough to try and kill him in the hospital, witnesses be damned. If the D.A.’s office thinks Rogers is half as valuable as we do, they’ll have guards posted at his door, people they can trust, but that won’t stop a shifter.
“Which means we’ll have to make sure Rogers stays alive long enough to back up your story.”
Hailey’s stomach filled with knots. Could they actually pull this off without getting killed? Troy looked confident enough, his eyes burning with determination.
If he thinks we can do it, then we can, she decided.
There was just one problem. Well, not one, obviously, but one that stopped them from moving forward altogether.
“But we don’t even know which hospital he’s in.”
“Leave that to me,” Troy said, getting up and retrieving his phone from the nearby table.
Hailey had no idea who he was going to call, but if The Firm’s reach was half as long as was rumored, Troy was bound to have friends in convenient places.
Her heart started to pound. She was no secret agent. That’s why she had become a lawyer, to deal with the bad guys after they were already in cuffs.
But if she wanted this nightmare to be over, she would have to push her fears aside and follow Troy’s lead. At least he knew what he was doing.
Here goes nothing.
Twenty-Five
Troy
Troy strolled into Chicago Med’s visitor’s lounge with Hailey by his side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
Blade, his handler, had pulled through and found out which hospital Rogers was staying at. Troy had a feeling the man was trying to make up for not getting Hailey under The Firm’s protection. Not that Blade hadn’t always had his back to some extent, but this seemed different.
Guess he’s feeling a little bit guilty, Troy mused idly, scanning his surroundings.
Troy knew Blade had already found his mate. That meant the man also knew firsthand how strong of a connection Troy had with Hailey. No doubt that had weighed in on his decision to help.
With Morrison out of the picture, there wasn’t anyone left in Chicago Troy really trusted. He wasn’t keen on having Hailey with him when there was a high risk of bumping into a member of the Crimson Claws, but he wasn’t about to leave her behind again, either.
Because that went so well last time.
The image of Hailey, terrified, with a gun barrel shoved in between her ribs, was ingrained into his brain. If he could help it, she would never be out of his sights again. Troy realized the thought was crazy and possessive, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
His protective instincts were working overtime, probably in no small part affected by the fact Hailey was carrying his child. Something he was reminded of every time he breathed in her scent.
It had surprised him at first, how excited he was to be a dad, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The time he had with his own dad had created some of his most cherished memories and while losing his father had been devastating, he took solace in the fact he had known the man long enough to learn how to be a great father from him.
Knowing he had the tools to offer his own son the same kind of a happy childhood he had overshadowed the sadness he felt when he thought about his father’s untimely passing.
And I’m going to work hard as hell to make sure my kid would never have to grow up without a father present.
He and Hailey sat down on the uncomfortable chairs in the lounge, surrounded by worried faces and tired eyes. Hailey pressed against him, squeezing his arm. She had to be nervous, but her heartbeat
was steady.
“Everything’s going to go our way,” she whispered, a shadow of a smile on her lips.
It seemed she meant it, or had at least forced herself into believing it.
“It will,” he confirmed.
Reaching out with his senses, Troy got a feel for their surroundings. The cloying scent of sickness was all around, always repulsive to most shifters who valued strength and health, but he didn’t identify any threats in the vicinity. No cries for help, no smell of tiger in the air.
No one paid them much attention either, everyone being too preoccupied with their own problems. That was good.
They stayed seated there for a while, just to make sure no surprises were about to pop out at them when they finally decided to move.
“How will we know where Rogers is being kept? We can’t search this place floor by floor without attracting too much attention,” Hailey uttered quietly.
“Just keep your eyes open. We’ll figure something out,” Troy answered, giving her forehead a quick kiss.
As a former SEAL and an intelligence officer, he was used to thinking on his feet. Sooner or later, a situation would arise that he could take advantage of.
He kept his gaze on the elevators, looking closely at everyone who got in and out. Time ticked by, another hour according to the huge clock on the wall. The lounge was constantly buzzing with activity and no one seemed to notice the amount of time he and Hailey were spending there.
She fidgeted at his side, looking more uncomfortable on the hard chairs as time went on.
Then, the elevator door dinged open and Troy’s pulse immediately quickened when he laid eyes on the guy who stepped out. The man was dressed in civilian clothes, but everything about him screamed cop to Troy, even before he noticed the holster attached to his belt.
Troy looked at the blinking lights above the elevator, showing which floor the guy came from.
Five.
“I think we just got our break,” he whispered to Hailey.
Her eyes followed his as they glanced at the man, heading in the direction of the cafeteria.
“Him?”
“He has to be one of the cops posted at Rogers’ door. Probably going to get his partner some coffee or food.”
He grabbed hold of Hailey’s hand and they stood, taking the elevator up to the floor the cop had come from. The closer they got, the harder Hailey’s grip on his hand became.
“I am not going to let anything happen to you,” he whispered to her, squeezing back.
That was one promise he intended to keep.
The doors opened and they stepped out into the brightly lit hallway of the fifth floor. Patients’ rooms surrounded them on either side as they walked, eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Troy immediately noticed a man seated at the door of one of the rooms, with an empty chair next to him. He looked bored and listless.
“That’s got to be it,” Hailey muttered under her breath, her gaze following Troy’s.
They didn’t change their pace as they passed the room and the officer posted outside. The guard only briefly looked up from his phone to measure them with his gaze, before going back to his game of Candy Crush.
The man didn’t seem suspicious of them and Troy wanted to keep it that way. The fact that he hadn’t reacted meant that he wasn’t a shifter or he would have scented Troy immediately. That worked in their favor.
They couldn’t just loiter around, waiting for a Claws goon or two to make an attempt at Snake Roger’s life. But at the same time, they needed to stay as close to the room as possible in case something went down.
Troy kept his eye on the other hospital rooms along the hallway as they kept walking, looking for a patient that wouldn’t be disturbed by sudden visitors. One of the doors on the right was open and he spotted an old man, in bed, with his eyes closed.
He was alone, hooked up to all sorts of machinery and didn’t seem to be breathing on his own.
Perfect.
Troy gently tugged at Hailey’s hand, indicating where they should turn.
They stepped into the old man’s room and Troy left the door just slightly ajar, so they could peek outside if necessary.
“What now?” Hailey asked in a hushed tone, her eyes flickering between Troy and the elderly patient.
“We stay here as long as we can and try to learn the guards’ schedule. Hopefully we can find an opening, a time where Rogers will be alone so we can go in and talk to him. Or maybe someone will make a play on his life, in which case there won’t be much talking at all.”
Troy’s lion roared at that last possibility, having never been a fan of peaceful resolutions. There’d been enough blood lately, though, and if he could spare Hailey from seeing more of it, he’d do everything in his power to make it happen.
Twenty minutes passed as Hailey paced around the room and Troy kept his senses on high alert, listening. Doctors and nurses milled about the floor sporadically, but no one came to check on the patient in the room Troy and Hailey were hiding out in, at least not yet.
The second guard still wasn’t back.
A sudden change in the air, a sense of tension he couldn’t exactly explain, made Troy stick his head out the door. He saw the elevator doors open and a guy in a lab coat step out. A badge with credentials hung from one pocket, the picture on it seeming to match the man wearing it.
But the way he moved was familiar. Troy could always recognize a fellow predator when he saw one.
As he drew in a deep breath, his suspicions were confirmed.
“What?” Hailey whispered from his side, craning her neck to see what he saw.
“That doctor over there is a shifter,” he said firmly
Troy’s eyes scanned the man from top to bottom as he tried to get a beat on him.
“And those combat boots he’s wearing are definitely not hospital issue.”
Every instinct Troy had was screaming at him, warning him that something was off. This doctor wannabe was trouble and he was headed straight towards Rogers’ room.
The guard looked up and checked the man’s ID before letting him go inside with a nod of his head. Not being a shifter himself, the officer had no reason to suspect the doctor wasn’t who he said he was. Cop or not, he didn’t question medical credentials when he saw them, apparently.
“We have to do something,” Hailey whispered urgently.
She was right, but Troy had a feeling the cop at the door might not take their word for it if they told him the doctor he just let in was actually a weretiger assassin.
“Can you distract the officer somehow?” he asked, trying to come up with a plan that would keep Rogers alive but also wouldn’t cause him to take out the guard.
Hailey was already brushing past him and running towards the cop, leaping into action immediately.
The hell is she doing, Troy wondered, straightening up.
“I think my grandpa is waking up, please, you have to come and see,” she pleaded loudly, tugging at the man’s arm.
Her voice was shrill and breaking, the perfect vision of a shocked family member, looking for help. The cop looked around, uncomfortable and bewildered.
“I think you need a doctor…”
Troy slipped out of the room and hid behind the corner of an adjoining hallway, listening as the show unfolded.
“They don’t believe me, those damn doctors never believe me, if you back me up…” he heard Hailey babble on, before the sound of a chair scraping on the floor reached his ears.
“Lady, I really…” the man started, before getting cut off by Hailey’s sobs.
“I know they’re wrong, all of them, Paw-Paw will make it through. He opened his eyes, I swear,” she blubbered, sniffling for good measure.
She’s good.
“Okay, just a quick look,” the man sighed, and Troy could hear him and Hailey walk to the elderly man’s room, with Hailey rambling on as they went.
As soon as she and the cop stepped inside, Troy took his chanc
e.
He rushed to Rogers’ room, keeping an eye out for any witnesses. The only doctor on the floor was near the opposite end of the hallway, scribbling on a chart in front of him and not paying much attention to his surroundings. No nurses in sight.
Good.
Troy dipped into the room the so-called doctor had gone into just a minute earlier, hoping he wasn’t already too late. He could only assume the patient on the bed was Rogers, as the imposter had a pillow over the man’s face, pressing it down with both hands while straddling him.
Rogers was struggling, thrashing around, but it wasn’t doing him much good. His hands were pinned down by the knees of the assassin on either side of his body, so all his efforts were doing was pissing his murderer off. The assassin looked up, lips curling into a snarl as he no doubt smelled what Troy was.
Time to break up this party.
“Hey, pick on someone your own size,” he hissed.
Troy rushed forward, arm swung back. He clocked Dr. Death straight in the jaw, so hard he could hear bones crack. The man went flying off the bed, landing sprawled on the floor.
Rogers threw the pillow off his face and gasped for air, wide eyes darting between Troy and the guy on the ground.
“Who the-…What?!” he stuttered.
“Quiet,” Troy warned.
I’m running out of time. Hailey can only distract that guard for so long and we’re not exactly being low-key.
Troy picked up a bedside lamp and yanked it out of the socket before leaping over Rogers’ bed to the other side, where the would-be killer was just regaining his footing.
He wrapped the lamp’s cord around the man’s neck and yanked backwards. The ligature tightened as the man tried to wheeze in air, his legs scuffling wildly on the floor and his hands clawing at whatever part of Troy he could reach.
Troy just held on, counting down seconds in his head. The carotid arteries, located on each side of the trachea, were responsible for supplying blood to the brain. Cut that supply off, and a person will be unconscious within twenty seconds.
Eighteen…
The assassin stopped struggling, his legs giving out and body slumping against Troy’s chest. He let go, dropping the man on the floor. Rogers was already out of bed, staring at him with a baffled expression.
