by Katie Reus
“You think I care about this sniveling piece of shit?” The man’s accent was faint, as with the other men from the building, and it was definitely Russian. His gaze flicked to Isa briefly as she moved, but he didn’t seem concerned with her as he looked back at Graysen.
Graysen couldn’t hear anyone else converging on them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around. Hell.
Graysen didn’t recognize the man from earlier, but…he knew the face from somewhere. It took all of two seconds for it to sink in. He’d seen the man on multiple Most Wanted lists.
Yuri Mikhailov.
“I think you do, Yuri Mikhailov. Surprised you’re in the country when you’re wanted for so many crimes.”
The man’s head tilted slightly to the side. He was too far away for Graysen to know for certain if he’d surprised him, but that change in body language was a giveaway.
“You would be wrong. Persky here was trying to flee the country, weren’t you?” Ice coated his words.
Persky didn’t respond, just breathed harder in Graysen’s hold.
Pop. Pop.
Graysen shoved Persky forward into the bullets’ path, while firing in return. Yuri dove behind a nearby Jeep. Graysen did the same, throwing himself toward where Isa was hiding—as a searing, tearing pain ripped through his chest.
Chapter 18
Isa crouched down in front of Graysen as he struggled to sit up.
Oh God.
Blood covered his shirt, seemed to be spreading everywhere. He had on a vest, but it didn’t cover everything. So much blood was coming from his shoulder area, spreading outward in a hideous circle.
She had pretty much zero medical knowledge but pressed a hand to his shoulder where most of the blood seemed to be coming from. “Were you hit more than once?”
Grimacing, he nodded and tried to sit up again.
“Stay put,” she whispered.
She held her hand to his shoulder, trying to fight back her own panic. She’d seen him shoot at the man named Yuri after the guy had shot Persky—who was lying in a pool of his own blood about ten feet away. She assumed Persky was dead, but wasn’t going to check his pulse to make sure.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he murmured, his eyes starting to lose focus. “Gotta make sure he’s down.” He shoved her hand away with surprising force and managed to sit up fully.
She noticed that he held onto his side as he moved, winced. Panic punched through her when she saw more blood seeping through his fingers against his side.
“Yes, you’re fine. You are going to be completely fine. You have to be. Because I still love you.” Graysen didn’t respond. His eyes drooped, his head falling back against the rear of the trunk.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This was not good. She had to get help, had to get a phone. She’d never realized how much she’d grown to depend on her cell phone. Now not having one, not being able to call for help at the touch of a button when the man she loved was wounded? It was terrifying.
She rolled onto her side and looked under the car. Her throat tightened. Two booted feet were slowly inching their way toward them from across the garage. She couldn’t even hear the man’s movements. She’d been so focused on Graysen, and stopping the flow of blood. She should have been paying better attention.
No way was this guy going to win, going to take away the man she still loved. They’d fought like hell to make it this far tonight. They were damn well going to escape.
Going on instinct, she grabbed her weapon from the ground and fired at the man’s legs and ankles. She might not like using guns, but her father had made sure she knew how to use one.
His grunt of pain rent the air as he fell to the ground, landing with a thud. She had a perfect visual of him under the car. Yuri, the man who’d shot Graysen. He’d fallen on his side and was facing her. Ice cold blue eyes stared back at her, his expression murderous.
His gun was still in his hand. He swung it toward her, his jaw clenched tight.
Time seemed to stretch out as she rolled over onto her belly, fired again at his face.
She pulled the trigger over and over until her gun made a clicking sound.
Breathing hard, she stared at the bloody mess of the man’s face before she shoved up from her position. Bile rose in her throat but she swallowed it down. She’d freak out later.
“He’s down,” she said, hunkering next to Graysen, whose eyes were now shut. “Please don’t die,” she whispered.
She needed to get his vest off, to stanch the bleeding better, but first she had to find a phone. Had to get help.
“I’m going to call for help. I…love you, Graysen. I love you so much. Please live for us. We deserve a second chance.”
His eyes fluttered open but he didn’t respond. Just stared at her with hazy, blue eyes. Okay, that was good. He was awake, even if he wasn’t talking. But his breathing sounded bad and his face was gray.
“Just hang on,” she whispered before peering around the car. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest. The man named Yuri was definitely dead. His face and head were pretty much gone. She forced the bile back. Focus, she ordered herself.
Just because he was dead didn’t mean there weren’t others hiding. Steeling herself, she picked up one of Graysen’s guns and pushed up slowly to her knees, then feet.
She couldn’t see anyone in the darkened garage. Couldn’t hear any footsteps. Couldn’t hear…anything.
On silent, aching feet she crept toward Yuri’s body. He was covered in blood, his face looking more like pulverized meat than human. Her stomach roiled again as she began patting him down.
She nearly cried out in relief when her blood-slicked fingers clasped a phone in his front pants pocket. With trembling fingers, she yanked it out. It had a security lock, of course. But she didn’t need to get past that to call the police. She swiped the emergency call icon and made the call, but froze at a faint shuffling sound to her left.
Her throat clenched in horror as she made eye contact with a dark-haired man in tactical gear just like the other men she’d seen tonight.
He lifted a gun.
Her fingers clenched around her own gun but she knew it was too late. Grief speared her at the thought of dying without having another chance with Graysen, knowing that Graysen would now be at this man’s mercy.
Puff. Puff.
She jerked, expecting pain as bullets tore through her—but the armed man fell to his knees instead, eyes frozen wide as blood bloomed across his forehead.
She swiveled to see Graysen crouched on his knees behind her, gun in hand, face pale. The weapon clattered to the concrete right before he collapsed.
“9-1-1 operator, how may I assist you?” The sound of the emergency operator’s voice on the other end of the phone made her cry out with relief.
Her entire body shook as she answered. “There’s been an attack at Raptor Aeronautical. My friend has been shot. We’re in the parking garage and need help now! There might be other armed men here! They’ve killed a lot of people.” She shoved up and hurried back to Graysen. She put the phone on speaker as she skidded to a halt in front of him.
His face was ashen, his breathing harsh and his head lolling to the side. More blood pooled around his torso, glistening darkly in the muted light coming in from outside. At least he was breathing.
She fell to her knees beside him and ripped off the vest before pressing her hands to the wound. Tears gathered in her eyes and a burning lump formed in her throat.
Don’t die. You can’t die on me. Not now.
He had to make it. She refused to believe they’d come this far only to lose him when she’d finally realized she still loved him.
* * *
Emerson jumped next to Carlito as lights suddenly flooded the small utility closet they were hiding in. He held a finger to his mouth, in case she was going to speak. He didn’t think she would, but he wanted to be careful. With the lights now back on, they should be able to make a phone call from one of the landlin
es. But he wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick from the terrorists or whoever these guys were.
He started to motion that he was going to step outside and find a phone to call for help, when a familiar voice came over a central com system.
“Emerson, this is Harrison. I’m with the police right now. We’re in the building. Isa and Graysen are on their way to the hospital. We are currently searching the building. Do not come out if you are hiding somewhere. We will find you. If you have access to a phone, call me to confirm. But if you’re hiding and safe, stay where you are.”
Hell, yeah. Carlito pulled Emerson into his arms, buried his face against her neck as she tightened her grip around him.
“Thank God. Everything is going to be okay.” Her voice trembled a little.
Carlito held on tight, knew without a doubt that he was never letting this woman go. He’d known for a while that she was it for him, but tonight had confirmed it. He didn’t want to live in a world without Emerson in it.
It couldn’t be good that Isa and Graysen were going to the hospital, but he’d worry about that later. He was just thankful this nightmare was over.
Still holding her, he pulled back so he could look at her face. “You’re coming to my house tonight. Just so there is no misunderstanding about how tonight will go. I’m not letting you out of my sight, probably for the next couple weeks. So you’re just going to have to deal with the fact that you’ll be moving into my place. I could lie and say it’ll be temporary but…once I’ve got you under my roof, I’m not letting you go. You’re mine and no one’s taking you away from me.”
Emerson gave him the widest smile, easing the worry that she might argue with him. “I really like this bossy, possessive side of you,” she murmured.
“It’s always been there, at least where you are concerned. You bring it out in me.” And he wasn’t going to fight it. She was his, simple as that.
Chapter 19
Graysen struggled to open his eyes. He needed to get to Isa. Needed to stop the shooter…
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He blinked, saw that he was in a bed and Isa was in a chair next to it—holding his hand. She was slouched down on the chair, eyes closed, her head tipped slightly back against a pillow tucked between the chair and her head. She had on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater.
“Isa—” The word came out raspy, barely audible. He needed water.
Her eyes flew open. She blinked a few times as she pushed up in the seat. Relief filled her expression as her gaze locked with his. “Thank God you’re awake. I’ll get the nurse.” She jumped up from her seat.
“Water,” he rasped out. He didn’t want a nurse, he just wanted Isa.
She froze two steps from the bed, nodded and poured water from the beige-colored pitcher on a table in the corner into a plastic cup of the same bland color. Some sloshed over the side in her haste but she hurried back to him and held it up to his lips.
He tried to raise his right hand to take it, realized he couldn’t. It was in a sling. He lifted his left hand but ended up letting her tilt the cup for him. The cool, fresh liquid was heaven. After he drank it down in two gulps, she refilled the cup again.
This time he took it, and drank three more cups until he felt somewhat sated. “What…happened after I shot that guy? How are your feet?” They’d been so torn up from her running around without shoes.
She blinked once before setting the pitcher back down. “My feet are fine.” Her expression softened as she took his hand between hers. “I should be asking you how you’re feeling.”
He rolled his left shoulder once. He felt as if he was in a haze, probably from whatever meds he was on. “Good… What happened? Is Emerson—”
“She’s okay. She’s actually here right now, in the waiting room. I sent her home last night but she’s back. There’s a lot to explain but right now you don’t need to worry about it. You don’t need to worry about anything. You saved me from that shooter and then Harrison and the cops came in and took over.” She lifted his hand to her lips, kissed it briefly as she closed her eyes. “I almost lost you.” Pain reverberated in her words.
His fingers tightened around hers, his heart squeezing. “I’m here and you’re here.” And…he remembered pain. “Was I shot more than once?”
She opened her eyes at his question, nodded. “Twice. In the shoulder and ribs.”
He nearly snorted, but didn’t want to cause himself any more pain. That was the problem with tactical vests. They covered a lot, but not nearly enough.
“You lost a lot of blood, but the doctors say you’re going to be okay. They’ll be able to tell you all the specific medical jargon I barely understand, but the important thing is no organs were hit and you’ve pulled through the worst. And the man who shot you is dead.”
He remembered that, even with the haze of the meds making his brain fuzzy. “You killed him.”
Her face tightened. “Yeah.”
“Did I imagine… Did you tell me you loved me?” God, he hoped it hadn’t been a hallucination. Those words were etched into his brain. He prayed that wasn’t just his imagination. Her words were crystal clear in his head when everything else was fuzzy. Please don’t die. I’m going to call for help. I…love you, Graysen. I love you so much. Please live for us. We deserve a second chance.
“I did.”
“Did you mean it?” He needed to know right now. If she’d just said it in the heat of the moment, he needed to know.
She cupped his cheek, her expression soft. “Graysen—”
A doctor strode in then, a compact woman with caramel-colored skin and ink-black hair. She gave him a quick smile. “Glad to see you’re awake. I’m Doctor Garcia, head of trauma surgery. Do you remember me?”
He strained, vaguely remembered being in an ambulance, Isa shouting at him to stay alive. He thought Harrison might have been at the hospital too. But he didn’t remember this woman. And he hated that he couldn’t remember her if he was supposed to. For a former CIA operative, having blackouts in his memory made him edgy. “No,” he gritted out.
“That’s normal for what you’ve been through. Your shoulder was grazed and your ribs were hit. Not broken, though. Your lung collapsed under the impact but it wasn’t actually hit. Which is really good. But you’re going to be sore for a few weeks. After two surgeries we got you stabilized and you’re in recovery. I’m going to have you start on deep breathing and coughing exercises to minimize the chance of you getting pneumonia, but things are looking really good.”
He listened as she went over how long it would take him to recover and how lucky he’d been, but most of his focus was on Isa, who’d moved to one of the windows. It was late afternoon, considering the angle of the sun, and he wondered what day it was if he’d had multiple surgeries. He also wanted an answer to his earlier question. Right now he didn’t give a shit what the doctor had to say. He was alive and fine. He wanted to know how Isa felt about him. Whether they still had a chance.
“The police would like to speak to you, but I’ve let them know that’s only happening if you’re up to it.” The doctor’s words made him tear his gaze away from Isa.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He wanted some answers, anyway.
“I’m going to get Carlito,” Isa murmured, hurrying out the door before he could stop her.
“Your fiancée has been a rock. She hasn’t left the entire time you’ve been here,” Dr. Garcia said to him.
He nearly jolted at the word fiancée, but kept his reaction to himself. If Isa wanted to say she was engaged to him, he was more than okay with that. He wanted her to wear his ring, for the entire world to know she was his. But was she? Was that what she wanted?
The doctor squeezed his hand once before turning at the sound of the door opening.
Carlito Duarte, a detective with the Miami PD walked in—Graysen recognized him because he was friends with Grant Caldwell, but mainly because he’d seen the guy at Red Stone multiple times.
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“Hey, Mariana.” The detective smiled warmly at the doctor.
“Detective. I’m only allowing this because he’s awake and says he’s okay—and I trust you. If his condition changes, one of you page me,” she said, looking back at Graysen. “Got it? You might be out of the worst of it, but you need a lot of sleep right now.”
“I’ll let him know if I need a break,” he said, when all he wanted to know was where Isa had gone.
She nodded. “Good. Your morphine will be kicking in again soon anyway.”
“Mr. West,” the detective began as the doctor left. He pulled up a chair next to his bed, his expression serious. “I know we’ve met, but officially, I’m Detective Duarte. Carlito, if you’d prefer. I’m sorry to do this now but I want to get your statement on the record. Technically I can’t tell you this, but I’m doing it anyway. I can pretty much guarantee the State’s Attorney won’t be bringing charges against you. You’re not under arrest, nor does the Miami PD plan to arrest you. If anything, they might give you a medal.”
“Okay.” He’d known there would be an inquiry after he’d killed so many men. Yes, it had been in self-defense, but that was a hell of a lot of bodies to deal with. Not to mention all the other bodies he hadn’t been responsible for. Talk about a clusterfuck.
“I just need to get the facts on the record so we can match up everyone’s timelines.”
That was fair enough. “Isa said Emerson was okay.” He took a shallow breath, struggled against his throbbing shoulder and chest. While he didn’t doubt Isa, Graysen was still worried something might have happened to Emerson while she’d been captive. “How’d she fare?”
The man’s expression softened. “She’s good. Out in the waiting room with Isa right now. I was there Thursday, trapped with her.”
He blinked, surprised. “Glad she had you with her.”