“Call me when you’re ready,” he replied, and she hung up.
Plunking a few more coins into the pay phone, she dialed Peter Daly.
Peter handed her the ballistics team’s photo of the slug she’d recovered from the floor of the apartment earlier that day. It was the bullet that had passed through her and Ryder and into the padding of the carpet. She laid the photo on the hood of his car directly next to the one Jesus had e-mailed—the slug fired from Rupert’s gun.
“Do these look similar to you?”
Peter ran his fingers over the grooves in each. “Same caliber. Same rifling and other distinguishing marks. Same gun fired these.”
Together with the file David’s contact had e-mailed hours after the raid began, she had more than enough to call Hank’s hand. “Thanks for helping me.” She grabbed both photos and tucked them into the folder with the e-mail message.
“Do you need anything else?”
She thought about all that had happened in the past dozen or so hours. Thought about what she wanted to do to Hank, and shook her head. “I think I can handle this, Peter. But thanks again.”
He surprised her by embracing her, muttering as he did so, “You don’t need to go it alone all the time, Reyes.”
Tears came to her eyes. “I know,” she said. Surprisingly, she meant it despite the events that had battered not only her body, but her belief system.
When she called her ADIC to find out if Hank’s room was ready, he said, “Slipped him something after lunch so he could rest. The room’s wired. Agents are ready.”
She scanned the late-afternoon traffic snarling the crosstown streets. She’d have to use the subway. “I need about forty-five minutes to get to the hospital.”
“I’ll be waiting in front.”
The file weighed heavily in her hand as she rode the subway downtown, but no more heavily than the uncertainty about what would happen at the hospital or with the rest of her life.
She looked down at her hands again. Her skin remained chilled. But then again, wasn’t that a normal human reaction to fear?
Was she afraid? She tightened her hand on the bright steel subway pole until her knuckles were white from the pressure.
Yes, and not just about what would happen in Hank’s hospital room. If he didn’t break, they would most likely hold her responsible for all that had happened last night. Legally responsible, that was. Whether or not she cleared her name, she would always feel morally responsible. Five innocent men had died because she hadn’t identified the threat.
And after? What would there be for her after?
The possible answer to that question scared her even more.
When the train jerked to a halt, she walked the few blocks to the hospital where, as promised, her ADIC waited.
Jesus whispered, “Whatever happens, I will make sure you get justice.”
She searched his face for any sign of betrayal. None. She smiled tightly in acknowledgment of his promise and together they entered the hospital. At the door to Hank’s room she paused.
“I need to do this alone.”
She entered the room and closed the door behind her.
Hank popped up in bed. “Shit, Reyes. I wondered what had happened to you,” he said, a hint of surprise on his face, but not enough. Definitely not enough. He was good, she’d give him that.
“Really?” She ambled to the foot of his bed. “I would think you knew. You tried to kill me.”
Hank crossed his arms against his broad chest, but nothing on his face gave away any concern. “You are one loco bitch.”
“I’ve been called worse, and by better than you.”
She removed the file from under her arm, pulled out the two photos and tossed them in Hank’s lap. “Look familiar? Probably not, but let me explain.” She motioned to the ballistics photos. “The ones from the three agents you shot were too damaged, as was the one from your leg wound. But the one in the floor of the apartment we raided—the one that missed me—excellent match to your gun.”
As she met Hank’s gaze, she noticed discomfort. And disbelief—they both knew his shots had struck home.
“You’re lying. Besides, no one will believe you.” He negligently tossed the photos back at her.
“How did you shoot yourself, Hank? There wasn’t any evidence of close-range contact, but I know you shot yourself and the other agent. Not to mention the shots you took at me and my team.”
“And why would I do that, Special Agent in Charge?”
She tossed another sheath of papers from her file and he caught them against his chest. He blanched. “How did you get this?”
“Only seemed fair that I should know something about you since you seemed to know everything about me.”
“How did you get this?” he repeated, a little more forcefully.
“A contact e-mailed it to me. Unfortunately, I didn’t receive it in time.”
“This proves nothing,” he replied, and slapped his uninjured leg with the papers.
“Doesn’t it? Come on, Hank. Of all people, I know what it’s like to want revenge. To want to kill the people responsible for hurting someone you love.” She forced a conciliatory tone into her voice.
“Like you want to kill the person who did your friend, Sylvia?” Hank taunted.
A sickening feeling crept into her gut. “You did it, didn’t you?”
“Me? Waste my time with such an easy kill? She was out like a light. Not much of a challenge. Shame the baby had to go, as well.”
She inched her hand upward, reaching for her gun, wanting uncompromising justice. The dark side of her knew the pain caused by punishment denied. It wouldn’t settle for that with Hank. Inside, a foreign heat pooled in her gut as she imagined making him suffer, killing him and avenging Sylvia and her baby. But something stopped her. Something that said she couldn’t become a monster like him.
“You want me to kill you, but I won’t make it that easy. You deserve to be punished for what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” he replied calmly. “You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I? I held my father in my arms as he died, Hank. I wanted those people dead. I still do.”
“Then why would you want to stop me?” he said, finally showing some sign of agitation. “Why don’t you understand why I did this?”
“Your father—”
“Was CIA. Do you know that there are eighty-three stars on the CIA Memorial Wall?” His tone was turbulent. “Eighty-three, but not one of them is for my father.”
“He was killed in action?” she asked, although she knew full well what Rupert’s father’s file said.
“They left him there. Kennedy and his buddies. They sent him there to help the invasion. When it all went to shit, he became expendable.”
“You wanted vengeance because the Cubans were responsible for his death.”
“Wouldn’t you, bitch? You ruined everything,” he said, and reached behind him.
She didn’t stop to wonder if he had a weapon. He was CIA and probably had an assortment of ways to get what he needed. She should have expected it, but had hoped that he wouldn’t…
No, that was a lie. She wanted a reason to kill him.
As Rupert fired, she dodged the bullet with an inhuman burst of speed, but felt its bite along her arm. She drew her own gun, ready for the kill, but found herself shooting to disarm instead. She caught him in the wrist, nearly blowing
his hand off. The gun slipped from his grasp, but he reached for it with his other hand.
Jesus Hernandez and another agent barged into the room, weapons drawn. Faced with those odds, Rupert raised his hands in surrender.
It brought little satisfaction and, for a second, she regretted that she hadn’t killed him and given him the punishment he deserved.
Jesus helped her upright. She winced as he did so and glanced at her arm. A tear in the leather hinted at the injury below. Lowering the blazer off her shoulder, she noticed the rip in the shirt and the scratch beneath. It was barely bleeding.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
ADIC Hernandez took over, and she walked down the hall to David’s room. Through the window, she saw David lying in bed, his girlfriend Maggie beside him.
Diana tapped on the glass and Maggie rushed out of the room and embraced her.
“Dios, Di. I thought you were dead.”
The wash of Maggie’s tears wet the side of Diana’s face. “I’m okay.”
“Are you? You’re cold.” Maggie ran her hand along her cheek.
“How’s David?” she replied, and stepped back, afraid her observant friend might notice other troubling things besides the cold of her body.
Maggie wiped her tears away. “Critical. Caught a lot of shrapnel from the explosion.” Her breath caught in her throat and her next words were strained. “He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”
“Paralyzed? Is it—”
“Permanent? Probably. We won’t know the extent of it until some swelling goes down and they finish up with the medications to try to repair the injury.” Maggie reined in a fresh batch of tears with a strangled breath.
“We told him, but he’s been so out of it that—”
“You’re not sure it really sank in. Can I talk to him?”
Maggie motioned to the door of David’s room. “He’ll be really glad to see you. He’s asked about you a couple of times already.”
Her throat choked up with emotion as she approached his bed. His eyes opened and a weak smile came to his face, followed by puzzlement. “Di? You’re okay?”
She sat in the chair Maggie had vacated just moments earlier and took David’s hand. “I’m fine. You’re going to be fine, too.”
“Liar,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I saw you shot.”
“I don’t know what happened.” She hated lying to him, but then again, she’d been lying to him since the day she had learned Ryder was a vampire. “What happened with you?”
“The room exploded. There was fire everywhere, but I couldn’t move. Then two men pulled me out except…Shit, Di. They weren’t men.”
A chill settled in her gut. “David, you don’t know—”
“What they were? You know, don’t you?” His voice stronger now, the monitors attached to him beeped furiously with his agitation.
“Please. Calm down.” She laid a hand on his chest.
“Tell me. You owe me that much, partner.” The way he said the last word sent fear through her.
“I can’t. I—”
“Leave.” The tone of his voice was frigid, distant.
“Don’t do this.” Tears came to her eyes at the inflexible set of his jaw.
He met her gaze head-on, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “I trusted you and look at me.” He weakly motioned with his free hand to his mangled body.
“David—” she began, but he cut her off again.
“Until you trust me enough to tell me the truth…just go.”
But she couldn’t tell him. Instead she dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I do trust you. It’s just not my secret to tell. Please understand that.”
He turned his face away, providing his answer. Sucking in a rough breath, she walked out, heading across the hall to Alex’s room.
There were fewer monitors there, but their steady beep-beep-beep tortured her.
He was awake, and he grinned weakly when he saw her. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “How are you?”
He motioned to the chair beside his bed. “Earned myself a few months R and R, I’m told. I’m also told Lopez is dead and the stolen weapon’s been recovered.”
“We just nailed Rupert.” She explained about the file and why Rupert had been working with the CDA. “I wish we had been able to get that information earlier.”
“Heard about your partner. I’m sorry.”
She thought about David’s parting words. Thought about all that they had shared and how she had failed him. “He’s angry. With me.”
“Because you didn’t tell him about your friend?” Alex asked.
“What friend?” she asked.
Alex laughed, but nothing friendly remained in his tone. “I was pretty out of it myself, but I saw someone. Tall. Dark. Carrying you.”
In her scattered memories about the raid, there came a quick flash of seeing Alex, bleeding. Of his eyes, open and staring at her as Ryder carried her past him. “I can’t tell you about him.”
“Is he the one? Is he the reason—”
“Yes. He’s the one.”
“Lucky man.”
“No questions about who he is or what he was doing there? How it is that I’m here, in one piece?”
“Did David ask all those questions?” Alex scrutinized her as he waited for her answer.
“No. He just asked me to trust him.” With those words, what little control she had mustered fled and the tears came. She swiped at them and continued. “If I could tell you—”
“You would? Somehow I don’t think so, amorcito, but I can deal.”
She imagined he could. He’d dealt with her nearly a decade earlier when she’d shut him out. This wasn’t much different except that this time, there wouldn’t be another chance for them. “I’m glad we got to see each other.”
“But you don’t want to see me again?”
She weighed her next words carefully before finally saying, “I’m all yours—as a friend. As a colleague.”
He smiled sadly. “Until next time, then.”
She dropped a quick kiss on his forehead and whispered, “Until next time.”
Chapter 26
T he sun was long gone by the time she reached Ryder’s apartment. She’d been walking for hours, thinking about everything. About David’s anger. About Alex’s acceptance. About what was in store for her future with her partner injured and her career in shreds. As the Special Agent in Charge, she’d be held accountable for the deaths of the five agents on her team, even though she had solved the case.
She wouldn’t quit. Even if they bucked her back to security checks on prospective government employees. She wouldn’t quit on David, either. Not when her partner needed her the most.
As she stood in front of Ryder’s building, she realized there were just a few more loose ends she had to tie up.
With a wave to the doorman, she went up to Ryder’s floor.
He answered, looking tired and anxious. “How are you?”
She shrugged. Yanking at the leather sleeve, she said, “I owe you a blazer.”
He eased one hand beneath the jacket to reveal the torn sleeve of Melissa’s shirt and the skin beneath, unblemished and totally healed. “You were shot?”
“A scratch only, but here I am,” she said with some force as she shoved past him and into his apartment.
She whirled to face him. “I’m sorry. I’m just…David’s paralyzed.”
He embraced her. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I know how important he is to you.”
“He’s not talking to me. He knows I was shot. He saw two men—possibly Diego and Blake. He wants to know what they are. How come I’m walking and talking, only…”
“We don’t know why. Do you want to tell him about me? Explain what I am?”
She did, but not now, when her partner had so much to handle. “Is that okay with you?”
“We need to be okay with it, darlin’.”
His words brought comfort and dragged a restrained laugh from her. “Is it a ‘we,’ Ryder?”
“Do you want it to be?”
She chuckled at the insanity of her situation. “You made a promise, remember?”
Ryder was at a loss. Maybe it was the lack of rest or the emotional roller coaster of the night before that prompted him to say, “I remember that I want us to live together.”
Diana chuckled once again, only this time it was an exasperated female kind of laugh. She laid her hands on his shoulders and shook them playfully. “You are such a guy, Ryder. No, not that promise.”
Which brought a smile to his lips as he recollected an earlier promise. The one to which he hoped she was referring.
“Oh, you mean the one about loving you forever? That promise?”
“Will you? Love me?” she asked, her demeanor suddenly serious.
“I will, and you? Can you commit—”
“To loving you until my last breath? After I was shot, I knew I was dying. I felt life leaving me while you held me.” Tears came to her eyes and she finally released her hold on them. “I saw myself in your arms and then…my father was there. Calling me home. I knew that if I went…” She hesitated, a smile on her face despite the tears. “I knew that if I went, I’d be free of the pain of this world. Finally in the light and at peace with myself.”
Death Calls Page 17
