by Wendy Byrne
"Ms. All-about-alternative-medicine suddenly wants to call in a doctor?" He tried to keep his tone light even while fear clutched at his gut. If Tessa died, it would be on him. He didn't get to her soon enough.
"I know my limitations, Jake, and this woman might need more than I have to offer." Her voice softened, as if she'd recognized her words had worried him.
"You're the best, Sabrina. I wouldn't have called you otherwise."
"But The Alliance doctors could—"
"You know they have limitations on what they can and can't do without contacting the authorities. Besides, with her picture hitting the headlines, keeping a low profile is the best option."
"Especially since she's currently wanted for murder." She scowled again. "Are you crazy?"
"You wanted me to take a case, and now I get one, and you're pissed. Make up your mind." He slipped his arm around her shoulder and found a slight easing in her posture. While his sister was tough, as a family they'd been through a lot together. It would always come back to that. No matter what, they were there for each other.
"I didn't think you'd be harboring a murderer, along with a CIA double agent. I ask again, are you crazy?"
"I'm pretty sure she didn't kill that Nick guy. Number two, we don't know for certain she's a double agent. There's just some speculation."
She touched his arm. "Pretty sure? For all you know this woman could kill you in your sleep without batting an eye."
"Does she look like she's going anywhere fast? Besides, no way she'd get the jump on me. No worries there." He put an arm around his sister's waist and ushered her toward the back part of the room. He wasn't sure if Tessa could hear or understand any of their conversation, but it would be best if she didn't. "I got this, sis. Your mad acupuncture skills are what I sorely needed, not an earful of sisterly advice."
She sighed. "We need to flush whatever they gave her out of her system. You'll need to make sure she drinks a lot of water." She rolled her eyes. "Who did this to her, and do they know who you are? And are they the people who murdered this Nick guy?"
"That's what I'm guessing. I'm not sure who they are, but they won't be doing much of anything for the time being. A good old-fashioned shot to the kneecap will keep most bad guys out of commission for a while." He bit back the words he'd said, uncertain how his sister would react. She strongly valued loyalty, as did he.
He didn't want to mention the Russian part. It would hit a little too close for comfort.
"But they're acting on somebody's behalf. So that means wherever they came from, there's more to fill in," Sabrina said.
"I'll have to be careful."
"Careful? It might be wise to leave the city. Hell, maybe you should leave the country." She walked back toward the bed. After touching Tessa's forehead, she brushed away an errant hair and clucked. "Somebody did a number on her. This woman has bruises all over her body."
"That's why I'm glad you came here. I'd feel like a pervert if I undressed her to make sure everything's okay. Even if her clothes were torn to shreds anyway."
"I can't be sure there's not internal bleeding. She moaned a bit when I felt near her kidneys, which means there's some tenderness. That's what I'm most worried about."
"But if there's damage, what symptoms would I look for?" Even if it was the last thing he wanted or needed right now, given his propensity toward bad luck, he wouldn't be surprised if something more serious had happened.
"She'd probably start to pee blood. If it's more than a little, you'll have no choice but to take her to the doctor ASAP."
He didn't want to think about that now. Instead, he tapped his fingers along the bed. "You brought some spare clothes, right? I'm pretty sure you two are about the same size."
Sabrina nodded. "A couple pair of sweats, some jeans, and sweaters. They should fit her. I stopped on the way here and picked up some new underwear—some sports bras, since I didn't know her size. Nothing fancy, but it should work fine." The sigh she released seemed to be laden with worry. "I know I wanted you to get back into the game and not wallow in what happened in Istanbul, but this"—she waved her hands in the air—"this seems like it might be more trouble than it's worth. The CIA or their minions may or may not be after you, and, as if that weren't bad enough, they gave her a drug that might very well kill her. What are you going to do if that happens? Huh?" She was doing her scowling-mother routine, despite the fact he was the older sibling.
"She's not going to die. Besides, since when has a case not been a boatload of trouble? Didn't you just come back from being kidnapped by a ring of sex traffickers?" When she tried to interrupt his flow, he held up his hand. "I rest my case." He brushed off her fears more easily than he could his own. Something about this case made him question if he could see this quagmire of possibilities through to the end. "Bottom lineis there anything a doctor can do for her that you're not?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "My guess is she has a couple of cracked ribs, but a doctor can't do much for that anyway. As long as her kidneys are all right, let her rest for a few days. I'm sure once that stuff is out of her system she'll be almost as good as new. Of course, that's assuming she doesn't die first." She tapped her finger to her lips. "Which reminds me, how did she get captured by them in the first place? Weren't you supposed to be watching her?"
"I trusted she wouldn't be dumb enough to run away, but she did while I was sleeping." He shrugged. "Go figure."
"See, your charm doesn't work the same on all women, big brother." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Make sure you remove the needles in"—she glanced at her watch—"about ten more minutes. Now, you take care."
"Where you off to?" He pointed to the travel bag she'd bought with her.
"I'm meeting Kane in Switzerland. He's got something he wants my input on."
Jake chuckled. "Yeah, like I haven't heard that line before. Hell, like I haven't used that one before."
"We're jet-setters. We've got to fit quality time in when we can." Sabrina's smile made her eyes twinkle. It was good to see her happy for once.
"Yeah, well, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Considering you'd do pretty much anything, I'm good to go." She opened the door and stopped. "Take care. And let me know if you need anything. You know Max is worthless where this stuff is concerned."
Even though he knew her comment was far from true, he played along. It was easier to play along about Max's incompetence when in reality Jake's skills would never be able to measure up. Hadn't he heard that time and time again from Petrovich?
Your brother is exemplary. You are only so-so. You'll never be as good as he is.
"Don't let him hear you say that. He thinks he's better than both of us combined." And he pretty much was. Max's instincts were impeccable. On their last mission together, Max knew things were going south and had sacrificed himself for both of them—and nearly died in the process. Jake would never be as good as his older brother, but he'd die trying.
* * *
Tessa patted the surrounding area and smiled. Yep, she was in bed. Soft and warm, and the sheets were unbelievably comfortable. That was some seriously high thread count beneath her fingers. She could only hope it wasn't a dream—or she wasn't dead. Yep, that would totally suck.
Even though every inch of her body ached, she felt much better than she had when she was strapped to a chair in that disgusting, rat-infested warehouse coming off drugs of unknown origin. If she could only figure out what they thought she knew, the last twenty-four hours would make a whole lot more sense.
But where was she?
She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the room with a calculated perusal. Expensive furniture and a view of the New York skyline greeted her. There was a pitcher of water, along with a note that said, "Drink." She couldn't help but chuckle.
Jake.
That's right. He'd swooped in last night like some kind of knight in shining armor and yanked her from the clutches of death. How clichéd was that? She shook her
head.
Kinda ridiculous.
Who the heck was he, and why was he so determined to risk his neck for her? Sure, he said it was a job, even if that seemed a bit suspicious. She'd heard rumors about The Alliance but was convinced it didn't really exist. Besides, anyone could say they worked anywhere. How was she supposed to prove otherwise? The intel on the organization was locked up tight.
He did have skills. She'd give him that. She vaguely recalled him taking out the three men holding her hostage. The bullets seemed to come out of the sky at the time. If she could only remember what the men wanted from her. Why did the idea it had something to do with Afghanistan keep circling her brain? Were they CIA operatives? She couldn't guess. Contrary to common belief, she couldn't tell an agent just by looking at them. Besides, if the CIA were out to get her, she suspected they'd hire someone for the job. But hadn't he told her the CIA hired The Alliance?
Instead of thinking about her troubles right now, she forced herself into a sitting position with more effort than she cared to admit, poured water from the pitcher left by her bedside, then gulped one cup after another in rapid succession. For some odd reason—more than likely her imagination—it mitigated some of the ache invading her body.
As she eased out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom, she couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten the clothes he'd laid out for her. What she'd last had on had been bloody and tattered, as she recalled.
But there was a woman helping him. She worked on Tessa's body, taking her pulse then sticking acupuncture needles in various parts of her body. They didn't hurt. But a kind of warmth spread through her with each breath she took. It felt good. Relaxing.
She turned on the shower, letting the steam loosen up her aches and pains. Every hit of the spray seemed to bring a hint of relief. No doubt she'd stayed in there longer than she should have, but the warmth felt so wonderful against her skin. An indeterminate amount of time later, she emerged into the steamy bathroom.
She wiped off the mirror to examine her face, already knowing they'd done some damage to her last night…this morning…yesterday–whenever that happened. It was impossible to know how long she'd been out of it, as she'd lost all track of time.
"Ouch." The word slipped through her lips as she looked in the mirror. No wonder she felt like hell. She glanced at her body displayed in bright light and noted the host of bruises lining her torso, as well as her arms and legs. With a finger she traced the black and blue skin surrounding the needle hole where they'd injected her with a drug she couldn't begin to identify. There were new and improved street drugs coming out every day, each more dangerous than the one before. Who knew what they injected? She could only thank God it hadn't killed her.
Still, the sight of the bruises and swelling gave her some pause. She touched at her swollen skin, remembering now that Jake had tried to put ice packs beneath her eyes, but she kept pushing them off. While she didn't know him well, he seemed like the epitome of in charge and in control. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. The flashes of memory she had seemed to confirm that.
After drying off with a towel and brushing through her hair, she opened the package of new underwear and slipped them on. The bra had been a sports bra, which worked fine considering the circumstances. Whoever bought them, they went high end, as the fabric felt soothing against her damaged skin. Next she pulled on the sweatpants and sweatshirt, even while her achy muscles started to rebel. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, she found an unopened toothbrush and a bottle of Motrin.
Nirvana.
By the time she opened the door from the bathroom, he was standing inside the bedroom. Resisting the wild urge to apologize for him risking his life to get her back had been on the tip of her tongue.
Before she could form the words he spoke. "Feeling any better?"
"My whole body feels like it's broken, but I think that might be an improvement." Her brain still felt a little fuzzy, like she had to concentrate on the conversation. Still, the fog seemed to be lifting little by little. "What day is it?"
"Monday afternoon." He folded his arms across his chest. "Did you notice any blood when you…ah…peed." If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he blushed.
"Just a bit."
"Are you sure?" He cleared his throat. "My sister was worried you might have injured your kidneys, so told me to ask."
She arched her brow. "I've injured my kidneys before, and there was a lot more blood. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Promise." She couldn't help but smile. "Mom."
He shrugged. "You don't know my sister. She's probably left a half-dozen texts for me to make sure I check this or that. She thought you should see a doctor, but I didn't think that was a good idea considering the circumstances."
"She was the one who brought the clothes and did the acupuncture, wasn't she?"
He nodded. "Yep, that was Sabrina." He glanced at her face and tsked. "Do you know the guys who were holding you?"
"You mean the circus performers?" She grinned, thinking about that crazy trip they'd sent her on with their drug of choice.
"Circus performers?"
"Yep, that's what they looked like to me—the tall man on stilts, the clown, and the trapeze artist. That was some trip I was on."
"Can't say for sure what they gave you, but my guess would be an ecstasy derivative."
She nodded. "That's what I was thinking, but they injected it." She bit her tongue to avoid sharing her thoughts on the hybrid drugs the CIA had used for years on people, which brought her back to the conclusion it was the CIA.
"Now what?"
"Care to elaborate?'
"Any idea what they're after?" He gave her the look that said, before she even spoke, he knew she was holding back. Like he expected her to hold back. Maybe he'd press her on the issue. Maybe he wouldn't.
"No clue, but they'll figure out you're a part of this eventually."
"I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. It's only a matter of time before they figure out who I am. I heard them talk about facial-recognition software from the train station in Virginia."
"I guess it's good to know they're the same guys who ransacked my house. Sweet gun and nice shooting, by the way. I'm pretty sure I'm impressed, even if I can't remember much. All I know is there were three men wanting a piece of me, and then they were writhing on the floor."
"Figures my all-star moment is forgotten with that patchy memory of yours."
"Even if I hadn't run away, they would have put two and two together from the other night and would have tracked you down eventually." She shrugged. "Except now you're in their crosshairs." She stopped and chewed her lip as the memory flitted back through her mind.
"You mean their Russian crosshairs? What's that all about?" He stared at her as if looking for confirmation.
She shook her head. "This memory thing is weird. It sort of flits in and out." For some odd reason, she resisted corroborating his story. "Russian?"
"Are they connected to one of your CIA operations? Maybe Afghanistan, like you mentioned earlier?" His voice reflected the skepticism she spotted in his eyes.
She hedged, partly because she didn't trust him, and partly because she had no idea who was after her or why. "I'm not sure. Let's just say it's within the realm of possibilities."
He ran his fingers through his long hair. "I don't get it. What are they after? And why do they think you can lead them to it? What did you hide in your computer they couldn't get at? It had to be important." He narrowed his eyes. "They were implying you stole something. And they had to have employed a sophisticated method to track you. Did you take something of theirs?"
"Why do you think I stole something?"
"That's the only thing that makes sense in their ability to pinpoint your location. Twice now."
"Maybe it was you they were trailing. You're a liability."
He held up his hands. "Why don't you trust me? Let's not forget I managed to get you out ali
ve with some fancy skills, if I do say so myself. Besides, this is not my first rodeo. I'd know if I were being followed." He sucked in a breath. "Do you think they were watching your friend Nick's place? Is that where they picked up your trail?" He cleared his throat. "I guess the better question, is do you think they killed Nick?"
"You know about Nick?"
He nodded. "How do you think I spotted you in that cafe not a block away from his place?"
"That was stupid, but I was so…unnerved. They sent me a message with Nick. I knew that." She took a breath and tunneled through thoughts of whether or not she should be forthcoming. "In training, Nick, Alex, and I talked about outliving our usefulness and how we would be eliminated. We joked that it would be a staged suicide attempt." She shook her head. "Not so funny, right?" Through an act of sheer will, she fought back the tears wanting to fall. This was not supposed to happen. "I wish I knew who they were and what they were after."
"Yeah, I've got a little bit of bad news about the Nick situation."
"He can't be deader, can he?"
"No, but they have a photo of you from the security camera outside his apartment. Somebody remembers a strange woman walking inside, and your photo is splashed across this morning's paper. The police are looking for you in connection with Nick's murder."
"Oh, great. The fun never stops when the CIA is involved."
"Except someone from the CIA hired me to keep you safe."
"But they didn't give a name. Sounds fishy to me." Thinking of her current powerless position gave rise to a swell of depression. She touched his hand, and it didn't feel all that weird. Considering the guy saved her life, a little touchy-feely shouldn't be weird. "I need to go at this whole thing on my own. No sense putting you in jeopardy."
"Too late for that. After the other night, I'm pretty sure I'll be on their radar within a day or two. Before you know it, they'll know everything, including my shoe size." He sat down next to her on the bed. "Considering I risked my life for you yesterday, can you throw me a bone, and tell me what all this is about?"
