by Aliyah Burke
“Food here too, you cook.”
A meal sounded divine. “Okay. Let me… Can I finish cleaning my face first?” Do not piss him off. Ask instead of tell.
“Yes.”
She pivoted around and got back to it. When he put down a large towel she was surprised but didn’t stop. “Thank you.” There was blood on the towel after she had finished drying her face off. The cut above her eye still bled and she’d busted her lip open again during her ministrations.
He tossed the towel aside and leaned against the counter. Caro didn’t even wonder much about how many weapons he had on him. She wouldn’t be able to take him even if he was unarmed. The man didn’t strike her as someone who let his guard down enough to be surprised.
Focused on food, she dug through the cupboards and fridge. Since he hadn’t rushed her, she decided she could have something warm to eat. After she had slid the casserole in the oven, she gathered up the paper towels and opened the door below the sink to toss them out.
Her gaze lingered on the bottles of chemicals under there. Instantly she knew she could make some explosives and possibly escape. With the amount they have down here either someone is trying to create some homemade explosives or they’re just seriously germaphobic and want all the types of chemicals they can get their hands on. Then again maybe each person in a room here has a preference of what their area is cleaned with. I won’t judge, I’m just glad the stuff is here. Shutting the door, she turned away and poured herself some water. All the while her mind was streaming and doing its best to find a way to get the chemicals out and do what she had to.
Caro sat at the counter while he took a seat on the couch and turned on the television. She made herself a cup of tea and sipped it slowly.
If I make the explosion large enough the cops will arrive along with the fire department. Maybe then I can get away from these psychos. Then again maybe they’re so far out from everything else, I wouldn’t do anything other than piss them off for blowing up their house.
There wasn’t any way to see out of the sliding glass door without being noticed. She’d have to move the curtain in order to pull it off and he looked in her direction every time she moved on the stool.
She wanted to scream in frustration. This wasn’t fair. Not at all. She drank two cups before the timer went off. Her guard stood near as she set the dish on the counter. Without being asked, she got two bowls down and opened a drawer to grab some silverware. For a second, just a second she was tempted to grab a knife but she bypassed them and pulled out two forks.
His pale gaze watched her closely. Like he expected or hoped I’d go for the knife. Reaching back in for a spoon to serve with, she dished them both up some. He took his and dug in.
She ate slowly, still trying to work out how she was going to get the chemicals. He’d had three bowls of the casserole by the time she had finished her first one.
“Good.”
She put her stuff in the sink. “Thanks.”
Right at her fingertips were things she could use. Hopefully she’d get a chance to get out here to them again. It wouldn’t take much for her to make them, she just needed the chance. One chance.
Someone walked in through the sliding glass door and she stared out. She could see other houses and felt another shred of hope open within her. More houses meant a better chance of cops coming with flames pouring from a house.
They talked to one another but one name caught her attention. Declan McBride. He was here. Looking for her.
“You stay here. Quiet. No one can hear you anyway.” They walked out and she immediately ran to the doors, trying them. All locked.
Scrambling for the kitchen, she ignored the pain that hit her as she banged into the counter. She jerked open the doors and pulled out the cleaning supplies. She found a bucket and began pouring. The smell burned her eyes and she held her breath as she carried it to the window covering on the sliding glass door. Back in the kitchen she made another concoction. This one she put by the other door, leading to other parts of the house.
“What you do?”
The voice behind her startled her and she turned to find one man running at her. She screamed and tossed the contents of the container into his face. His cry filled the room. She couldn’t figure out where he’d come from. There had to be another door. One she didn’t know about.
He fumbled around for his gun and she ran toward him, jumped at him and hit him in the face. With a roar, he threw her off. She hit the corner of the island with a loud grunt. Her head bounced off the floor and she blinked away more blood as it streamed from the newly reopened cut.
She heard the whine and ducked, knowing that the explosion was imminent. Sure enough… Glass shattered and flames licked at the material around the melted container. Curtains, carpet and furniture. All went up.
A single gunshot was all she heard before she looked up to see the man, his face an ugly mess of blisters, looking in her direction. She stared down at her stomach and frowned. Her shirt wasn’t red. It may have been dirty but it had been a white one.
The color spread and it hit her. I’ve been shot. She put her hand over the wound, reaching for a towel with her other to help staunch the flow, and slumped back to the floor by the island, strength escaping her with each breath she took.
She coughed and blood spewed from her lips. The man who’d shot her lay immobile. When he’d fallen she wasn’t sure. More gunshots rang out and, over the roar of the growing fire, sirens pierced the air.
Her energy gone she closed her eyes. Two close shots pulled her eyes open and she looked up in time to see the other door explode as well. What do you know, the explosive worked.
A tall figure ducked through the hole that had been made, even as she stared at the splinters scattered around her.
“Caro?”
She didn’t have the energy to speak. Her blood, warm and sticky, flowed between her fingers to coat more of her shirt and skin. Turning her tired eyes up it took a few seconds for recognition to sink in.
Declan. He was there, approaching her. Bulletproof vest strapped on, amplifying the strength in his upper body, his white shirt below it a stark contrast to the black material keeping him safe.
“Oh shit!” He sank beside her, concern all over his face. “Hang on, Caro. Hang on.”
I wish you didn’t hate me, Declan. I wish I had the strength to tell you all the things I didn’t have the guts to tell you before. She couldn’t find her words. There was no hope for her to locate and share them with the man before her. Black spots flecked the corners of her eyes.
“This is going to hurt, baby, but I have to get you out of here before the fire gets any closer.”
He lifted her up in his arms. With the remaining bits of her energy she took her hand and touched the side of his face. Thank you, Declan McBride. Thank you for not letting me die here. Her hand fell back to her belly as he maneuvered them past the door and fairly sprinted up the stairs. The sunlight hit her skin as he moved them through the chaos surrounding them.
She closed her eyes as he shouted for a medic.
* * * *
Declan was a man who’d seen a lot of death and disturbing situations given his job. He wasn’t squeamish and he wasn’t timid. He’d always soldiered through everything thrown at him. However, this—this was totally different.
He had never been so scared in his life.
“Put her here!” an EMT yelled at him.
Blinking, Declan placed her down on the stretcher. Immediately the men shoved him to the side and worked on her.
“We have to get moving with her or we’re going to lose her.”
“Make sure you don’t,” he growled low, grabbing one man by the arm.
“Are you injured?”
“I’m fine. It’s not my blood, it’s hers.” All hers. And there was so much of it.
“We’re going.” They didn’t wait for him to say anything and as much as he wanted to go with her, Baldwin was still in there and he wasn�
�t going to leave him behind.
Declan whirled around and with hands on his lightweight automatic he ran back inside the house.
“Where are you, Baldwin?”
He made his way up the marble staircase, waiting for his answer via the ear piece.
“Third floor. Hurry.”
Behind him more uniformed officers burst through the door. He didn’t wait for them, instead took the stairs, several at a time. The smoke from outside had begun to filter in to where he was. “Location?”
“Left at the top, third door on the right.”
He made his way there. “Coming in.”
Declan pushed the door open slowly and crept in. Baldwin stood across the room, black shoes on the gold carpet. Their gazes met and Declan raised his eyebrow in silent question. Baldwin held up his hand, fingers spread before indicating the door—the only other one in the room.
At least five people. Armed.
He grinned when Lance exchanged his pistol for the shotgun that had been on his back. They changed positions and with his hand signal countdown they breached the room.
Baldwin took out the hinges with two spot-on hits from the shotgun he wielded. Declan had his DDM4 V5 up and trained on the stunned occupants.
“Weapons down! Weapons down!” he yelled.
“On the ground! On the ground!” Baldwin’s voice echoed his.
It didn’t take the group long to get over the shock of the door being blown off its hinges, and the bullets started flying.
Shit! Lunging to the right he shot in short bursts, ensuring not to put any into Lance. There may have been five at the start but from another door more came in, shooting. They fell back to some cover using the wall on either side of the door Declan and the detective had entered from, continuing to exchange fire.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs behind them. Declan turned in time to see a young female officer burst in. His world succumbed into slow motion as he lunged for her.
One man lifted his MP5 and fired. Declan hit the woman as the first slug entered his hip. Two more buried in him as he bore her to the ground. Biting back his grunt of pain he covered her as best he could as more cops entered the room and turned the tide of the gun battle.
The gunfire ceased and Baldwin’s face came into view.
“Hang in there. Bus is coming.”
“Caro.” Declan’s words were slurred.
“I’ll find out on the way to get you there.” He settled his hand on his shoulder. “Stay with me.”
“What do we got?” A black woman came into his view.
“Multiple gunshots.”
She nodded. “I see that. Least you wore your vest. Tell me your name.”
“Declan. McBride.”
“Nice to meet you, Declan McBride. Are you allergic to anything?”
They rolled him onto the stretcher and got him moving. “Lead.”
She smiled at him as they collapsed the trolley for the stairs. “Aren’t we all. Glad to see you’ve maintained your sense of humor. That’s wonderful.”
“Caro?” He tried to ask around the oxygen they gave him.
Baldwin’s voice faded in and out. Declan couldn’t make out his words as the darkness finally managed to blanket him.
* * * *
He went from asleep to awake in an instant. Casting his gaze around the room, Declan saw LT in a chair mixing what had to be coffee—the man lived off the stuff—with a wooden stirrer.
“Wouldn’t have to stir it so much if you didn’t dump half a canister of sugar in each cup you drank.”
LT smiled as he looked over at him. “’Bout time you woke up, you lazy bastard.” LT moved near. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot multiple times.”
“You did. So your memory’s fine.”
Declan touched the tubes running out of his nose and glared at his lieutenant.
“Hang tight. I’ll get a nurse in here.”
Within the hour, Declan was sitting up a bit more in the hospital bed listening to LT wrap up the rest of his explanation of what had gone down.
He cleared his throat, which turned into a coughing fit. Two nurses stood over him by the time he had finished. He raised his eyebrow and stared at them both. “I’m fine.”
Neither took his word for it and checked him over. Once they had left, he settled back against the mattress. Lance walked in carrying a bag of fast food.
“Sup?” He raked him from head to toe. “You look like shit.”
“I’m in a hospital bed, what’s your excuse?”
LT chuckled while Baldwin tsked and held up the bag. “Be nice or I keep the fries and shake I smuggled in here.”
“You didn’t smuggle shit in here. You just walked by the nurses out there, flirted a bit and kept going,” Declan said.
The man didn’t look the least bit perturbed by his assessment. In fact he grinned wide. “Use what you have to your advantage. You wouldn’t know about that, being an ugly Irishman.”
Declan beckoned for the bag. “Hand it over, jackass.” Working together had moved them into a realm where he’d actually consider them to be friends.
They set it up on the table and he groaned in pleasure as he ate his first bite. “How’s Caro?”
There wasn’t any way for him to miss the exchanged look between the two men. He placed his cheeseburger down and flicked his glance between the both of them.
“What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
“She’s okay, Declan. She’ll live.” Lance touched his arm gently.
He had to relax and it took several deep breaths before he could find his way to do that. “So what’s with the looks?”
“She’s not here, so don’t ask to see her.”
“What do you mean she’s not here? Where the fuck is she?” He struggled to get up, shoving the wheeled table out of his way.
Both LT and Baldwin halted his weak attempt to get off the bed. “Stay put, McBride. You’re in no condition to walk.”
“So get me a fucking wheelchair. I want to see her.”
His lieutenant shook his head. “Like Detective Baldwin said, she’s not here.”
“Where. Is. She?”
“She went home.”
“She was able to check out of the hospital?”
“Not exactly. As soon as she was stable enough to be moved she was transferred.”
His eyes grew wide. “A transfer is from local hospital to local hospital. Not halfway across the country.”
“She went back to Wisconsin. She’s in the hospital at the university. It’s where she wanted to go and where her parents wanted her to go.”
Pain exploded in his hip and he winced. “I need to go up there and see for myself.”
They exchanged another look and Baldwin took a seat while LT heaved a sigh. “You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t walk for a while. In fact, you will be in rehab for a long time.” LT shoved a hand through his hair. “Depending on how it goes, you may be on a desk for the rest of your career.”
Ice settled around his heart. A desk? He hadn’t joined the blue brotherhood to ride a desk. Just like he’d never wanted to become a detective because he loved where he was. He wanted to do what he did. Not something else.
“I’m sorry, son.”
So was he. “I need to think about this.”
LT nodded and walked away, pausing once to look at Baldwin who didn’t move from his seat. Then he vanished from view.
“Something you need, Baldwin?”
“Yep. This is for you.” He stood and reached in his pocket. Handing over the paper he’d withdrawn he gave a sharp nod of his head. “Call if you need me. Thanks for having my back out there.”
The man left him alone. “No, man. Thank you.”
Exhausted by the news and his condition, Declan shut his eyes, the paper in his hand, scrunching. He took several deep breaths and opened the folded sheet. Caro’s handwriting jumped off the paper
at him.
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you sure you’re all right, sweetheart?”
Caro looked at the man who’d raised her from a baby. A proud man. A loving man. Her father. “I’m fine, Daddy.” Maybe if I say it enough times I’ll believe it. “How are you and Mama?”
He held her hand, his strength familiar and comforting. “Don’t worry about us, we need you to get better.”
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at the stinging tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Jasmine.”
“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. You had your reasons. We’re just so thrilled you’re okay.”
Was she? The jury was still out on that debate. But if it kept more concern and worry from her parents she would continue to lie about it until she could no longer do so. With the smile still pasted in place, she squeezed his hand.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work, Daddy?”
“You know, my boss actually gave me some time to spend with my daughter.”
“Nice man, your boss,” she said, her smile becoming more real instead of forced. Her father worked for himself.
“I think so.”
She readjusted so her head rested upon his arm and took a deep breath, ignoring the lance of pain from her stomach area. “I just wanted to help her.”
His lips brushed her forehead. “Of course you did, Carolyn. That’s how we raised you. To help others. Why wouldn’t you help your twin?”
“I also feel angry, Daddy. So very angry.”
“Terri says that’s natural.”
“I know she does. Doesn’t mean I feel right having those feelings.”
“You, sweetheart, have a heart of gold. It doesn’t matter you spend most of your days hidden away in a lab concocting something or another. Your heart is pure. And you should have no guilt for what happened. None.” He smoothed some of her hair back. “We checked the papers and they rounded up a lot of his crew. That guy isn’t getting out. In fact there was some skirmish at the prison where a big group of his men were taken down by the Irish faction in there.”
She opened her eyes and stared at her father. “Irish?”
He nodded, his brown eyes somber. “According to reports, it was some kind of gang war inside the walls.”
