by Carolina Mac
The monitor began to whine and startled Ty. He booked it towards the nurses’ station and met a nurse coming his way. “I need to see Doctor Quantrall. Could you page him for me please?”
“Let me check my patient first.” She rushed past Tyler into Jesse’s room. “Doctor Quantrall just came out of surgery. Give him a minute to clean up.”
Tyler’s throat was so tight he was sure he was going to vomit. “My brother.” Jesse was paler than he’d ever been, and Tyler was almost certain he was dead. He watched the nurse check the monitors and take Jesse’s pulse.
“What happened?” she stared at Ty as if he had caused the problem, and he had.
“He wanted to know why Annie wasn’t here,” said Ty to the nurse. “I… I didn’t have to tell him… he…”
“What’s going on?” Brian rushed into the room, his white lab coat flapping around his legs. He checked the monitors, then stared down at Jesse. “Tell me, Jesse.”
“Ace.”
Brian turned angry eyes on Tyler and barked, “Go get her.”
Tyler stepped into the hall and texted. Three minutes later, Annie stepped out of the elevator and Ty was waiting for her. “You can see Jesse. He got upset and the monitor went nuts and Brian had to change his mind.”
“Brian’s a bully,” Annie whispered as she practically ran to the unit. She brushed past Brian without a word, leaned down and kissed Jesse. “I’m here, cowboy. Everything’s okay.”
Brian glared at Annie and then shifted his cold brown eyes back to the monitor as he watched Jesse’s heart rate settle down.
Annie sank into the chair next to Jesse, laid her head on his chest and he raised his hand to touch her hair.
Brian kept his eyes glued to the monitor then nodded.
TRAVIS PARKED BLAINE’S truck behind the Embassy Hotel in Laredo shortly before noon. Farrell followed them into the parking lot and chose a spot in the back row for the oversize RV.
“Do we have the agenda for Laredo?” asked Travis. “I’d like to check out the dining room earlier this time and then put men on all the doors once it’s secure.”
“Lil has it,” said Blaine.
Lily scrambled around in the back seat and found it buried in a ream of printed campaign material in her briefcase. “The dinner and the speech will be at the Convention Center.”
“Far from here?” asked Travis.
“Nope. You could walk.”
“Why are we assigned to this detail, boss? Doesn’t seem to be anything happening that Mean Gene the Machine and his men couldn’t handle.”
“Must be a reason,” said Blaine. “The man hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Travis nodded. “That’s true… and if that is true, we better not relax.”
“Complacency can be a killer,” mumbled Blaine.
“Shit, boss, you’re turning into Farrell.”
Blaine gave Travis a hand signal. “Get out of here, Trav.”
Travis left laughing, something he rarely did, and Blaine regarded the levity as ominous. If Travis got fucked up over the candidate, he would fuck up everything in his path. It was the Travis way.
“What do you need, boss,” asked Lily from the back seat. “I can tell when you’re deep in thought.”
“Get me a room here and set up my laptop—I fuckin hate it that I can’t walk and can’t carry my own weight, and physically can’t carry my own shit. Jesus Christ, I’m a miserable son of a bitch when I’m shot.”
Lily giggled. “Lay it down, boss. Whatever you need, I’ve got it covered—in spades.”
“Okay, I have a list in my pain-addled brain. Here it is. “I’m going to scan more closely through the staff that supposedly has been cleared and see if anybody stands out. I also want all the campaign stops marked on a map—not just a list—so I can see if we’re hitting any isolated areas. Get Ginny’s press person to give you a list of the opposition. I need to know where the other candidates are every day.”
“Yep.” Lily was taking notes on her legal pad. “What else?”
“Order us lunch and have it brought up to my room for a meeting.”
“I’m glad you’re getting a room, boss. You need a lot more rest with your leg elevated, than you’re getting. It was way too soon for you to take a new assignment and go on the road.”
“Tell that to the man.”
“I’d rather not.”
LILY STOOD AT the reservation desk waiting her turn to book a room Blaine could use for some quiet time. There was one couple ahead of her finishing up and she would be next. While she waited, she glanced down the list of things Blaine needed done. He never asked for anything he could do himself in a fraction of the time. A great boss and she owed him a lot for the opportunities he had laid at her feet. He might be miserable on the surface because he was hurt and in a lot of pain, but underneath he was a sweet kid. He carried a huge load of responsibility at twenty-three.
“Delivery for Doctor Rodriguez.” A Fed-Ex man in uniform strode up to the desk and placed a square box at the end of the long counter. “Can somebody tell me her room number or see that she gets it?”
The clerk looked up and was about to say something when Lily butted in front of the couple checking in. “Don’t tell him her room number. I’ll get someone to take it to her.”
“Are you on her staff, Miss?”
Lily nodded, but she was already calling the candidate. “This is Lily Duke, Doctor, down in the lobby. Were you expecting a parcel? One just came from Fed-Ex.”
“No. I can’t think what it would be, Lily.”
“I’m having it checked, before you open it. Don’t come down.”
“Oh, my God. Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Lily pressed Travis’s cell number. “Parcel delivered for Ginny and I checked, she’s not expecting anything.”
“I’ll call the bomb squad. Where’s the parcel?”
“On the reservation counter.”
“On my way. Clear the lobby and don’t let anyone touch it.”
Lily turned her back to the reservation counter and shouted, “Would everyone please leave the lobby for a few minutes.” She pointed at the glass doors. “Wait outside in the parking lot.”
A man in a suit rushed out of the office behind the reservation desk and glared at her. “What are you doing, young lady?”
Lily pointed at the parcel. “The police have been called. Everyone should wait outside until that parcel has been checked.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Is it a bomb?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
BLAINE WAS DOZING in the truck while he waited for Lily to secure a room for him. No use limping around until he knew where he was limping to. His cell rang. Lily
“No rooms? I expected as much.”
“Not there yet, boss.” She talked fast, explaining about the parcel.
“I’ll call the bomb squad to X-ray it.”
“Travis called. They’re on their way.”
“So am I. Give me a minute, but call Farrell now, and get him in the hotel and up to her room—make sure he’s armed.”
“Yep.”
“And tell Ginny to stay in her room with the door locked. The only one she lets in is Farrell.”
“Yep.”
It took Blaine a good five minutes to walk from the parking lot to the main hotel entrance with the fucking crutches. He was approaching the door when he heard the sirens and saw the bomb squad truck squeal under the porte cochere.
The bomb squad officers were out of their vehicle and inside the hotel in seconds and Blaine was right behind them. They hollered out orders and evacuated all stragglers and looky-loos before they touched the parcel.
FARRELL CHECKED the fridge in the RV while Mary edited her story of the candidate’s victorious appearance in San Antonio.
“We need more Cokes and snacks,” he said to himself. Mary was typing and wasn’t listening. His cell rang, and he grabbed it off his belt. Lily talking fast.
“Upstairs now. Stay with Ginny. Keep her in her room and don’t let anyone in. Make sure you’re armed. A parcel has been delivered for her and the bomb squad is here.”
“Hellfires, I’m on my way.” Farrell grabbed his shotgun from their armory and ran from the RV leaving the fridge door wide open.
“What, Farrell?” Mary didn’t get an answer. She closed the fridge door, grabbed her notepad, locked the RV and ran after Farrell.
Not waiting for an elevator, Farrell took the stairs two at a time and was panting for breath by the time he reached the fourth floor. He pounded on four-fourteen and hollered. “Farrell, Ginny. Let me in.”
Doctor Rodriguez was shaking and staring wide-eyed at the big shotgun in Farrell’s hand as he rushed in and secured the door behind him.
Sensing how scared she was, Farrell lowered his voice and touched her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. As soon as I clear the suite, I want you in the bathroom with the door locked for five minutes.”
She nodded but didn’t move.
Farrell led with the Winchester and did a quick run-through. “All good. Go now.”
Ginny ran to the ensuite in her bedroom and locked herself in while Farrell stepped onto the balcony and looked up. He saw it—a fuckin rope and a leather glove holding on to it. Into his earwig he hollered, “Trav, get the roof. Intruder coming down. I’m on her balcony and I’ve got him covered from here.”
“On my way up. Where is she?”
“Bathroom.”
“Good. If he comes over the wall, shoot him, but for chrissake don’t shoot him in the head. We need to brace him.”
“Roger that.”
BLAINE STOOD within three feet of the front entrance when a member of the bomb squad, clad in protective gear, came through the door. The box blew apart with a loud pop and the officer tossed it away from himself.
Not a bomb. A diversion.
Blaine struggled with the crutches getting past the knot of officers at the door.
“You can’t go in there,” one of them shouted.
“Texas Ranger,” he called back, “going in.”
The sergeant of the squad blocked him. “ID.” He held out a gloved hand.
Blaine nodded his head at his pocket as he tried to remain upright.
The Sarge nodded. “Sorry, Ranger Blackmore. Heard about you, but never seen you in person. Shot by that lunatic, right?”
Blaine nodded and headed inside.
Fucking waste of time.
Then in his earwig, he heard Farrell talking to Travis about the guy on the roof. “Get me to the fourth floor he hollered at the uniform watching the elevators.”
Blaine arrived at the candidate’s room as Lily was sliding the emergency key into the slot.
Thank God, Lil thought of the extra key.
“Let’s see what we’ve got, Lil.” As soon as Blaine stepped inside and saw Farrell on the balcony, he hollered, “Ginny should be in the bathroom. Go stay with her.”
Lily ran down the hallway towards the bedroom and Blaine dropped one crutch to the carpet and drew his Beretta. He limped to the sliding glass doors and checked Farrell’s position.
Yep, the guy rappelling can’t see Farrell behind the potted trees. “Don’t kill him, bro. We need him.”
“Roger, boss.”
Where the hell is Gene?
ADRENELINE PUMPING wildly through his veins, Travis ran up the narrow maintenance staircase leading from the top floor of the hotel to the roof. He pushed the door open, blasted through leading with his SW in time to see a guy go over the low wall surrounding the flat roof. A second guy was leaning over the wall watching the first one. A spike hammered on an angle into the concrete wall on the roof side secured the rope.
“Hold it right there,” Travis hollered. “Hands on your head.”
Second guy straightened up, spun around and pulled a gun out of his waistband. He squeezed off a hurried shot without aiming and it missed Travis by three feet. Travis dove, tackled the guy around the middle and knocked him down with a thud. He smashed the guy in the face with his SW and he went limp. Travis rolled the man onto his belly and cuffed his hands behind his back.
“Got the second guy in custody, boss. He’s out cold.”
“Good job, Trav. Bag any evidence up there.”
FARRELL STEADIED his breathing just the way Annie had taught him. Nothing makes a shot go wild quicker than adrenaline—that’s what his Mom told him—and she was the best shot since Annie Oakley.
It was a long way down from the roof and the guy seemed to be taking forever. How long had it been? Three or four minutes?
He must be close. Farrell could hear him breathing now. Exerting a lot of energy as he repelled. Farrell peeked between the palm fronds and saw his legs.
A little bit farther and he’d be down.
Now.
Farrell cocked his SW and pointed it at the guy’s head. Not a big guy and light on his feet. Well-suited for his profession. “Hands on your head, buddy. Nice of you to drop in.”
Letting go of the rope, the guy lunged at Farrell with a blade in his hand. Farrell side-stepped him, knocked over a table and nearly fell as the guy crashed against the glass doors and dropped the knife—the balcony was long and narrow and filled with outdoor furniture and plants. Too cluttered for a knife fight.
The guy recovered and pulled a gun from his waistband. He lined up his shot while Farrell was off balance but before he could pull the trigger, he flipped backwards over the railing propelled by a nine-millimeter in his forehead.
“Thanks, bro.” Farrell looked at Blaine standing in the doorway, crutch under one arm and Beretta in the other.
“Wanted him alive too, but one will have to do. We need some answers.”
Farrell nodded. “Like who’s giving them orders. That’s the guy we need.”
Blaine tilted his head towards the bedroom. “Go get the girls. I think we all need a drink.”
DOCTOR RODRIGUEZ seemed surprisingly calm when she and Lily came out of the ensuite and joined the others at the bar in the corner of the lavish suite.
“Are you all right?” Blaine asked. “Sorry you had to be locked in there for so long.”
“Lily kept me company. The safest place in the suite.” Ginny took stock of who was in the room. “Where’s Travis?”
“He took the man he arrested on the roof to the police station to interrogate him.”
“Was there more than one man?” asked the candidate.
“Two that we saw. There may have been others in a vehicle somewhere. The police are searching.”
“You said one went to the police station, but there were two?”
Blaine nodded, and his hand touched his Beretta. “I killed one of them. Couldn’t be helped.”
“Help yourselves to the bar.” Doctor Rodriguez sat in one of the wing chairs. “Lily, would you mind? I’m a little shaky now that it’s over.”
It’s only beginning.
Lily smiled and stepped behind the full bar. “Sure, no problem. What would you like, Doctor? I know what the rest of them drink.”
“I believe I’ll have something strong. Maybe vodka over ice.”
“Straight up?” asked Lily.
“Yes please.”
TRAVIS SHOVED his handcuffed prisoner into the back of Blacky’s truck and got behind the wheel. As he pulled out of the hotel parking lot into the street, he thought he heard a shot.
Goddammit, I told Farrell not to kill the other one.
At police headquarters, he showed his creds, explained the situation to the Deputy Chief who was on duty, and the booking sergeant took over. The guy hadn’t spoken a single word, not even his name, but his prints were in the system and his sheet spewed out of the printer.
John David Wilson, a tall, tanned youth of twenty-four was from Houston and had done eighteen months in Huntsville for attempted armed robbery. Participating in today’s attempt on Doctor Rodriguez had blown the lid off his two-year probation
—he was heading back to Huntsville.
Travis used one of the interrogation rooms to ask his questions. He tried friendly, tough, threatening, and sympathetic, but his efforts were futile. The guy was mute for the first half hour, staring blankly across the table, a hint of a smirk on his face. Then he spoke. “I want my phone call. I want my lawyer.”
He was returned to his cell until his legal representative appeared, and Travis left him in the hands of Laredo PD.
Blacky was the team interrogator anyway with Jesse out of action. He should be the one to give Wilson a shot on the next round.
With no lead coming from Wilson, Travis returned and found the hotel turned into a media circus. Vans and SUVs bearing call letters and antennas were parked along the road and many had invaded the guest parking lot. Film crews crowded the yellow-taped perimeter pushing and shoving while talking heads with perfect hair shouted questions at police personnel.
Travis parked and skirted the area, keeping his distance. Let the locals do their job. Blacky would have copies of all their reports as soon as they were filed.
Eyeballing the location of the yellow tape in the parking lot as he passed, directly under Ginny’s balcony, Travis figured Farrell had nailed another one in the head.
I told him to keep that guy alive.
Upstairs, Travis joined the rest of the team in Doctor Rodriguez’ suite. Gene and his men were noticeably absent, apparently checking out the venue for tonight’s fund raiser. But a couple of faces he recognized were having a beer at the bar—Jack and Greg had arrived from Austin.
The man must think we need reinforcements. Shit.
Ginny smiled at him from the table where she sat with Lily, Mary and her campaign manager, Willa Freeman. Travis had only met Freeman once but had observed her running the show behind the scenes. A gray-haired woman with a strong will and an iron hand, she bullied the campaign workers into submission. Travis didn’t like her much.
He rounded the table, leaned down and asked, “Are you okay, Ginny?”
“Better now, thank you, Travis.”
Blaine tapped his Corona on the marble bar surface and called an impromptu meeting to order as soon as Travis had a Lone Star in his hand. “Travis, Farrell and Jack will clear the venue at the Convention Center. Use Gene’s men if you need more bodies. Lily and Greg will remain with Doctor Rodriguez while she rests and gets ready…”