by Lara Lacombe
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “Nurses love me.”
She walked right up to an older woman in navy scrubs. “Excuse me? My husband and I got a call that his brother had been shot and was here. Can we see him?”
“Name.” The lady didn’t even bother to look up.
“Jim DeWinter,” Alex said. He didn’t try to keep the anxiety from his voice, knowing his worry for his “brother” would help them get in.
She typed away for a moment, then nodded. “He’s here, but he’s not allowed visitors right now.”
“Please,” Jillian said. “I’d really appreciate it if you let us see him. We won’t stay long, and we won’t bother him.”
The woman did look up then, clearly ready to refuse Jillian’s request. Then she saw Jillian’s scrubs and her eyebrows shot up. “Do you work here?”
Jillian shook her head. “I’m over at GW, in the ER. I came straight from work after getting the call.”
The nurse nodded, her expression softening. “Tell you what. You can head on back, but we really don’t allow visitors on this floor, so try not to stay too long.”
“Thank you,” Jillian said. Alex echoed her words. “We really appreciate it.”
The other woman waved off their gratitude. “He’s in room 427. Just down the hall, then take a right. Door is on the left.”
Jillian nodded and reached out to grab his hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go say hi.”
Alex spent the short walk trying to brace himself for what he might find in Jim’s room. Would Jim be awake? Would he be happy to see him or angry because of what had happened earlier? What if he wasn’t awake? What if he was unconscious, hooked up to machines keeping him alive? Would his friend recover or would he forever feel the effects of his injury?
His thoughts whirled like the flakes in a shaken snow globe, spinning around but getting nowhere. It was his nature to plan, to try to see every possible outcome of a situation or a problem. To try to control things as much as he could. But recent events had knocked down his carefully constructed reality, and he was beginning to realize control was just an illusion. He would have to take things as they came, rather than waste energy wishing circumstances were different.
They paused outside the door and Jillian turned to look at him. “Ready?” she asked.
He nodded. He was as ready as he’d ever be. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to shoulder the blame for Jim’s current condition. Even though he hadn’t sent the gang after Jim, even though he hadn’t pulled the trigger, he knew that Jim wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed if it wasn’t for him.
Jillian seemed to sense his thoughts. She placed her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “This isn’t your fault,” she said, keeping her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You saved his life. If you hadn’t gotten those guys to chase you, he would have died at their feet.”
Alex nodded mechanically. He didn’t bother trying to explain. There wasn’t time and they had more important things to do. Such as making sure Jim stayed alive so he could expose Dan as the traitor he was.
She gave his arm a final fortifying squeeze, then turned and pushed open the door. It was dim inside the room—apparently someone had turned off most of the lights so it would be easier for Jim to sleep. He was taking full advantage of the low light, dozing peacefully in the bed. His face was relaxed, with no lines of strain or pain. It was so different from Alex’s last glimpse of Jim that for a moment he just stood at the foot of the bed, absorbing this new reality. Then he exhaled slowly, relief overtaking his earlier anxiety.
Jim was going to be okay. He didn’t need to look to Jillian to confirm it. The last time Alex had seen his friend, his skin had been the color of old milk. Now he was a healthy pink. His chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm and a quick glance at the monitors by his head confirmed his heart was beating, steady and sure.
“He’s looking good,” Jillian said softly. Alex nodded, pleased to hear her echo his thoughts.
“Is he asleep or sedated?”
Jillian tilted her head, considering him. “Probably just asleep. He’s only been out of surgery a few hours, so he’s likely still sleeping off the anesthesia. Do you want to wake him?”
“I think we’d better.” Although he hated to interrupt his friend’s rest, it was important Alex spoke with him. Their earlier conversation had been interrupted before he’d been able to confirm Dan’s involvement, and he needed to make sure Jim still believed he was innocent.
A thought occurred to him. “Will he be lucid?” There was no need to wake Jim up if he wouldn’t understand or remember what was said.
Jillian shrugged. “Hard to say. Some people are able to shake off surgical anesthesia quickly and can have a normal conversation soon after. Others are more affected and it takes several hours, sometimes a day or two, for them to feel normal again. The only way to know which camp Jim falls into is to talk to him.”
He nodded and Jillian approached the bed. She called Jim’s name, but when he didn’t respond, she reached out and put her fist just above his heart.
“Jim,” she repeated, rubbing his skin with her knuckles. “Wake up for me. C’mon, buddy, I need you to wake up now.”
Jim stirred, shaking his head. He lifted his hand to bat weakly at Jillian, trying to push her hand off his chest.
“Are you hurting him?” Alex stepped forward, guilt rising. He only wanted to talk to Jim—he hadn’t meant to put the man in more pain.
“It’s more uncomfortable than painful,” Jillian explained, not letting up. “It’s a surefire way to rouse someone. See?” she said, smiling down at Jim. “It worked.”
Jim stared up at her, blinking slowly, like a nearsighted owl. “What—? Who—?” He seemed to focus on Jillian, and he let out a groan. “Oh, no, you’re back. No more pain, okay, lady? Gimme a break.”
Alex shot her a questioning look, but Jillian just grinned in reply. “When Jim and I were waiting for the ambulance, I explained to him that pain is a good thing. I think he took exception to my logic.”
“Damn right I did,” Jim muttered. “I was the one in pain!” He squinted up at her. “Who are you talking to?”
Alex stepped forward, catching Jim’s attention. “Alex! Thank God you’re alive!” Jim held out a hand and Alex stepped forward to grab it.
“I’m so sorry, Jim. This is all my fault.”
Jim frowned up at him. “Things are still a little fuzzy, but I do remember getting shot. And I don’t remember you pulling the trigger. So quit beating yourself up.”
“Roger that.” Alex smiled, feeling some of his worry lift away. If Jim remembered getting shot, there was a good chance he remembered their earlier discussion about the real mole in the Bureau.
“Do you recall our conversation on the bench? Before all hell broke loose?”
Jim closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow. “Mostly. I think the gist of it was you’re innocent and Dan is the bad guy. Do I have that right?”
“Pretty much,” Alex said simply.
“Where are my clothes?”
Thrown by the sudden change of topic, Alex glanced at Jillian. Jim seemed lucid, but perhaps this was a side effect of the anesthesia? He raised a brow at her in question and she shrugged in reply. Whatever was going on here, she couldn’t explain it, either.
“Um, I’m not sure. Do you need them for something?”
“Yes.” Jim tried to sit up, winced, then relaxed back onto the bed. “Find my jacket. It has a recorder in it.”
Alex glanced around the room, the tension in his muscles mounting when he didn’t see any clothes. Jillian walked over to a cabinet, pulled open the door and removed a white plastic bag with a drawstring top. “His personal items should be in here,” she said, handing him the bag. Alex loosened the strings and reached
inside. His fingers closed around the rough tweed of Jim’s jacket and he pulled, shaking it free of the bag.
“Which pocket?” He began patting the jacket, searching for telltale bulges that would indicate a concealed recorder.
“Inside right,” Jim instructed.
The recorder was small and thin, a dull black that seemed even darker in the dim light of the room. Alex pressed it into Jim’s hand. “Here you go.”
Jim fumbled with it for a moment, pressing buttons with a careful exaggeration that made Alex think he was still under the influence of the surgical medication. Then the playback started, faint at first, but growing louder as Jim toggled the volume controls. He’d recorded their conversation, and he hadn’t stopped the device after they’d been discovered. Jillian jumped when the gunshots rang out and they heard the muffled thud as Jim hit the ground. There was the crunch of feet on snow, then a curse.
“That’s when they realized I wasn’t you,” Jim interjected with a rueful smile.
Alex tried to smile back, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Bad enough his friend was in a hospital bed; reliving the accident and hearing these men talk so casually about killing Jim twisted his gut into knots.
“Should we finish him?”
“Nah.” Alex recognized the voice as the leader of the group. “He won’t last long.”
“The man said no survivors.”
“Look at him. He won’t survive. We need to move.”
“Who’s that?”
There was more cursing, then the gunmen took off. Jim moaned in pain and there was a scratching sound, as though he had tried to move. Quick footsteps, growing louder, then Jillian’s voice, clear and strong. “Don’t move.”
Jim switched the recorder off, letting silence fill the room. In a way, it was almost worse than the sounds of Jim’s shooting because now Alex had no distraction from his thoughts.
“My God.” Jillian spoke softly, but her voice cut through the heavy stillness like a cracking whip. “It was bad enough watching all this happen through the window of the coffee shop. Hearing the soundtrack makes it even worse.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her stomach like she was cold. She took a step closer to Alex and he hooked his arm around her shoulder, pulling her snug against his side. She relaxed, her body warm against his, and he felt a quiet joy at the knowledge that she had sought comfort from his touch.
Jim’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t comment on the cozy scene they made. “Yeah, well. It wasn’t much fun for me, either,” he grumbled. He held the recorder up and Alex leaned forward to take it. “Get this to Parker,” Jim instructed. “I’ll call him, let him know you’re coming. He can help you.”
“Are you sure?” He tucked the device into his pocket, but it was too long and it stuck out awkwardly. Afraid it might fall out, he searched for another place to keep it. Jillian saw his dilemma and held out her hand. Without any hesitation, he dropped the recorder into her palm and she tucked it away in one of the huge front pockets of her coat. The information that little recorder contained was the key to proving his innocence, but he trusted Jillian completely. She was his one constant in this whole mess.
“What do you mean, am I sure?”
Jim sounded offended so Alex rushed to clarify his earlier question.
“It’s nothing personal. But it was hard enough getting you to trust me again, and we’ve been friends for years. I barely know Parker. Will he take your word that I’m clean?”
Jim relaxed on the bed, looking appeased. “He will,” he said simply. “Especially once you give him the evidence.” He nodded at Jillian’s pocket. “Hand me my phone, please.”
Alex dug around in the plastic bag and removed Jim’s phone. The other man dialed, then conducted a short conversation, presumably with Parker. He hung up and regarded them again. “He’s waiting for you.”
“Where?”
“Coffee shop just off 10th and E Street. Across from work.” Jim yawned, his eyelids drooping. “I’ll do what I can from here, but I’m not going to be much use to you, I’m afraid.” His voice grew fainter, the words beginning to slur a bit as fatigue dug in.
Alex patted his friend’s hand. “You’ve done more than enough. Just get well. I’ll see you soon.”
“Hope so,” Jim mumbled. “Be safe, buddy.” He dropped back into sleep, his body going limp on the mattress.
“Will he be okay?”
“I’m almost positive,” Jillian said, snaking her arm around his waist. She laid her head on his shoulder and he tilted his head to press his cheek against her hair.
“Why almost? Why not absolutely?”
“I don’t deal in absolutes,” she said, squeezing him. “But his color is good, he was lucid, and he seems to have the spirit needed for recovery. Barring any unforeseen events, I think he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Alex murmured.
They stood there for a moment, holding each other close, watching Jim sleep the peaceful slumber of the medicated. There was a faint sound in the hall outside the room—probably the nurse coming by to kick them out—and Alex pulled away from Jillian.
“What now?” she asked.
“That, Doctor,” said a smooth male voice from the doorway, “is a very good question.”
* * *
Alex stiffened, inhaling sharply with an audible hiss. “Dan,” he said softly, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a wonder he’d gotten that single word out.
Jillian felt her eyes widen, disbelief warring with dread. They were so close to clearing Alex’s name—why, oh why, did this have to happen now? All they needed was a little time, no more than a half hour, and Alex would be safe. But it couldn’t be that easy.
Alex turned to face his foe and she caught a glimpse of his expression while he moved. He looked nothing like the man she’d come to care about, and she had to force herself to stand still, resisting the instinctive impulse to take a step back. Gone was the handsome man who looked at her with concern, with affection, with desire. In his place was a hard man, eyes bright with anger and the promise of violence. With his brows drawn down and his mouth set in an angry slash, he looked like an avenging angel, ready to unleash his vengeance on those who had wronged him.
Jillian turned with him, caught up in the terrible beauty of Alex preparing to do battle. She’d never seen him this way before, and she realized with a sudden jolt that this was the side of him the gang had known. He hadn’t revealed his humanity to those men, knowing that mercy would be mistaken for weakness. Instead he’d worn this mask, this awful armor of protection that he donned so quickly now. He moved to stand in front of her, a menacing step that was no less threatening for the fact that it was to the side and not toward his enemy. For a heartbeat Jillian was caught in a dizzying cyclone of emotions—pity for the life Alex had been forced to lead, admiration for his strength of character, pleasure that he had allowed her to know him, to see the real him, and a thrill of feminine shock at the fact that he’d put himself between her and danger. Then she blinked and the moment was gone.
“Why are you here?” Alex said softly.
“Just tying up some loose ends,” Dan replied. Jillian peered over Alex’s shoulder and got her first glimpse of the man responsible for turning her life upside down.
He was smaller than she’d imagined, and not just because he sat in a motorized wheelchair. His narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, and slim torso reminded her of a stork, all thin, lanky lines, folded into a tidy package. With sandy-brown hair and light brown eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses, he was not a man who would stand out in a crowd. Rather, he had the look of an everyman, someone who would blend in with his surroundings. It was likely one of the reasons no one had suspected him of being the mole—his appearance was so average it was hard to imagine him capable of such treachery.
“It’s
good to see you, Alex,” he continued. “Saves me the trouble of finding you later.”
Dan hadn’t looked at her yet. Neither had the man who had stepped inside the room to stand next to him. They were both totally focused on Alex, watching him as if he was a wild animal they had just cornered.
Jillian slipped her hand into her front coat pocket, running her fingers along the recorder. The buttons were marked with raised symbols and she pressed the one stamped with a circle, hoping the device would start recording. She didn’t know if the device was even capable of picking up sound through a layer of fabric, but it was worth a shot. The more evidence they could gather against Dan, the stronger Alex’s case would be.
“If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.” Alex’s voice was even, almost pleasant, but she heard the underlying rage. He was doing a good job of keeping his emotions in check so far, but how long would that last?
“But I don’t want to talk to you. I want you gone.”
“And so you killed innocent people in your attempts to get rid of me? Sloppy of you. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything better. You’ve always been careless—that’s what landed you in the chair in the first place.”
Jillian held her breath, shocked at the cruelty of Alex’s words. Why was he provoking him in Jim’s hospital room? Was he hoping Dan and his friend would make a scene, attracting security? Or was he simply venting his anger and frustration, lashing out against a man he so obviously hated?
Dan stared at him, a dull red climbing up his neck and cheeks as he held Alex’s gaze. Neither man spoke and after a moment the color faded from his face. He smiled, almost pleasantly. “We shouldn’t talk about these things here.”
Alex made a show of looking around, turning his head back and forth in an exaggerated search of the sparse room. “I don’t see an alternative.”
