by Zoe York
“Someone else is here, Wes. His name is John.”
“You don’t fucking move, cop.” Wes darted his eyes from left to right, his anxiety level rising again.
Rafe held out his hands, palms wide open, and reassured the other man he wasn’t going anywhere. “But if you want me to stay, how about you take me as your hostage instead of this woman, eh?”
Behind him, Dean swore a blue streak and John cleared his throat. “I can’t let you do that.”
Wes shoved Lynn forward and she stumbled, hitting the frozen, snow drifted laneway with a thud. She crawled on her hands and knees and Rafe moved to help her up. He kept his eyes on Wes, though, and when he saw his trigger finger tighten he knew it was all about to go tits up.
Rafe dove forward, covering Lynn with his body, but it was too late. Shots rang out, familiar noises in an unfamiliar context, and Wes hit the ground a few feet away from them, his face frozen in a death mask Rafe would see in his nightmares for weeks to come. Heavy boots thudded the ground around him—the freezing fucking cold ground, now that he was aware of it—and as soon as he was given a hand up, he took it. Someone else pulled Lynn off the ground. She’d get taken to a cruiser in a minute, but dealing with the aftermath of the shooting took precedence.
He looked down at the body at his feet then turned to Dean to confirm no one else got hit. His friend shook his head in silent confirmation. Sucker had it coming then. Rafe had no doubt the dealer shot first. The investigation would probably be pretty straight—
Whack.
The snap of a bullet smacking into the barn five feet in front of him had everyone scrambling. The officer who’d been quietly guarding Lynn dropped to one knee and spun around, looking for the shooter. Rafe swore and grabbed her hand, dragging her behind a useless pile of wood as a faster spray of bullets chewed up the ground around them. Someone in an outbuilding had a semi-automatic weapon and Rafe’s pulse pounded in his ears as he tried to orient himself. The woodpile wouldn’t stop anything but might make for some visual confusion. Lynn jerked hard against him and he hit the ground hard for the second time in as many minutes. This time it hurt a hell of a lot more. He’d landed on his shoulder and it felt like it was on fucking fire. “Shots fired, shots fired,” people yelled unnecessarily into radios, followed by, “Motherfuckers, officer down.”
Rafe couldn’t catch his breath. Fuck. That was him. His fucking shoulder. He swore out loud. Shots rang out again over head, and orders were yelled back and forth at a furious clip. He ground his jaw and tried to pull himself up onto his other arm but Lynn was a heavy weight right against him.
“All clear, get a fucking ambulance down here. Right the fuck now. Jesus Christ, Rafe, you fucking hero, you better be okay.” Dean thundered to a stop next to him and started swearing again.
“Yeah, it’s a lot of blood for a shoulder wound, eh?” Rafe laughed. He was hurt, but he knew it wasn’t fatal.
“Shut up,” Dean muttered, sliding his hand over Lynn’s neck. And that’s when Rafe realized why she was so fucking heavy. Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh fuck.
Dean shook his head and lifted her body out of the way. Rafe tried to grab for his radio but his fucking arm wouldn’t work. “Dean,” he spit out. “Ryan can’t be one of the first responders.”
His friend dropped to the ground a few feet away and laid Lynn out on the snow. Rafe watched helplessly as Dean leaned over her. His actions slowed as he opened her coat, then sank back on his heels.
“Get the fuck off me, man, I’m fine.” Rafe tried to push himself up as one of the tactical officers started to look at his shoulder.
Dean shook his head and came closer. “You need to lie still until EMS arrives.”
“Lynn—“
Another shake, this one slow, each swivel worse than a physical blow. “She’s gone.” Dean hesitated, his face pale and drawn. “She took a couple to the chest.”
The other officer had jammed something underneath his shoulder and was holding him together on top. Dean shooed him out of the way with the instruction to find out where the fuck Ryan Howard was and keep him away from the farm if need be.
Jesus Christ. Panic swelled in him at the thought of Liv hearing about this from a uniform she didn’t know.
Dean’s face swam in front of him. He needed a favour. He needed his friend to know he was okay, well enough to do this first before anything else. He cracked a joke. “Stop moving, man.”
“Hang in there, Rafe, the bus is almost here.” Dean’s tone promised he didn’t find it funny.
“My phone.” He licked his lips, trying to focus. He really wanted to close his eyes for just a minute, but he needed to do this first. “Does it work?”
Dean hesitated.
Desperate need clawed at his insides. “I need to call. Just in case.”
His friend shifted, keeping pressure on his shoulder as he lifted one blood soaked hand—fuck, was that all his blood?—and found Rafe’s phone in a pocket on the opposite side of his body.
“Password is 5489.” LIVY. “Her number is—” He coughed, and oh motherfucker did that hurt. But it wasn’t wet. Small miracles.
“Got it.” Dean held the phone to Rafe’s ear and looked at him sternly. “Keep it short. We’ll get someone to pick her up.”
It took three rings for her to answer. “Hey, sweetie.” Jesus, he’d gone too long without hearing her say that. “I’m at Mac’s helping out. We’re about to be swamped for lunch, how’s work going?”
Diner noises filled his ear and he closed his eyes. Dean poked him, thinking he’d drifted off. No fucking way was he going to pass out before he’d said what he needed to say. “Liv?” Damnit, his voice sounded weak.
“Yeah?” He was glad she was distracted. Hated that in a few minutes, two uniforms would walk through the door and make her cry.
“I love you.”
She laughed. “I love you, too. That’s all you wanted?”
“I love my job, too, baby.”
“Are you picking a fight, Rafe?” She laughed again. “Now’s not really the time. If this is about the weekend, it’s okay. Dani and I are going up to Tobermory—”
“Liv.” This time she stopped talking and he heard her walk away from the noise. Maybe to the office. Then it was quiet, and he wanted to throw up. “Listen, baby, something’s happened, but I’m okay.” Please, God, let that be true.
She started crying, soft sniffling that broke his heart, but when he opened his mouth to reassure her, he couldn’t find the words. It was getting hard to think. He groaned, and Dean took the phone, stabbing at the screen to activate the speaker phone before he returned both hands to Rafe’s shoulder.
“Olivia, it’s Dean Foster. We’re going to the hospital in Wiarton. A car will come and pick you up.”
“Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod…” Her voice wavered in the air around him and he lifted his left hand, trying to catch it. “Tell Rafe I love him. Tell him—”
“He can hear you. Keep talking to him, okay?” Dean looked up as someone shouted in the distance.
There was music in the air, and then Rafe realized it was a siren. Sirens. The ambulances had arrived. And then his sister’s face was hovering over him. “Dani, tell Liv I’m going to be okay.”
She gave him a seriously pissed off look, then glanced at the phone lying on his chest. “Olivia, honey, we gotta hang up now. I’ll find you at the hospital, okay?”
“No, don’t hang up,” he protested, but it was already done.
“You’re going to cry like a little girl when we transfer you to the back board, Rafe. She doesn’t need to hear that.”
He laughed, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.
“Don’t close your eyes, Rafe. Stay with me…”
But he couldn’t. It hurt too damn much. And the light—and then the dark—was a welcome relief.
— NINETEEN —
THE car they sent for her wasn’t designed for detainee transfer, so as soon as they pulled up to the emergency
room entrance she had the door open and was flying. Inside, she looked for anyone in uniform that she recognized. The waiting room was a sea of navy blue and staring faces she couldn’t name if her life depended on it. Finally she landed on Dean, standing at the triage desk looking grim.
He turned just in time to catch her as she ran smack into him.
“Where is he?” She sucked in big gasping breaths and jerked her head to the nurse sitting in front of a computer. “I’m Rafe Minelli’s wife, where is he?”
The other woman didn’t respond right away, clicking on something on her screen, and Olivia wanted to rip the monitor off the desk and whip it across the room. Dean rubbed her arm. “Olivia, Rafe was shot in the shoulder. You heard him, he was conscious—“
“Was? What do you mean, was? Where’s Dani?” She started crying again, great heaving sobs that wracked her entire body.
“I’m here, honey.” Her friend wrapped her long, slim arms around her from behind and she turned on the spot, returning the embrace. “He’s going to be okay, really. But he’s a bit messed up right now, and he needs surgery, so they’re going to airlift him to London.”
“I want to go with him.”
“You can’t, but we’ll drive you.” A silent conversation was taking place over her head between Dani and Dean, she could feel it, but she didn’t care. “Come on, you can see him for a minute before they load him up.”
Dani squeezed her hand, both reassuring and prompting. Olivia followed, the noise and bright lights of the hospital swirling around her in a surreal tapestry. Through one door, then the next, and when they got to a closed curtain, she heard him groan and started crying all over again.
“Rafe—!” She cut herself off, not trusting herself to hold it together. He couldn’t see her like this. Pretend you’re strong for thirty seconds, she ordered her heart. Dani gave her a questioning look and she nodded and blew out her cheeks. “I’m okay.”
On the other side of the curtain, five people in scrubs had their hands on him. Oh my god. In him, it looked like as well, from the amount of blood on their gloves. Pieces of his uniform lay on the floor, cut off in chunks, and large medical packs lay open on his chest. He was moaning as the man touching his shoulder barked orders to the others. Dani silently guided her around the gurney so she could see his profile. Eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched and teeth bared, he looked gloriously alive—a true fighter.
“Sweetie,” she breathed, and his eyes popped open.
“Baby,” he groaned. “You’re here.”
“I hear you’re going to take a helicopter ride.”
He grunted.
“I’m going to follow.”
“Dani—” He swore as one of the nurses did something to his hand.
“What did that feel like, Rafaelo?” the doctor asked.
“Fucking cold,” Rafe muttered, and the nurses laughed.
“Okay, we’re good to go whenever the chopper gets here,” the doctor announced. “I’ll give you a minute, but then we need the room.”
She moved closer, hands shaking, not knowing if she should touch him. Thankfully he didn’t have that same fear. He reached out with his left hand and she squeezed his fingers. “Be brave.”
“I always am.”
“I was talking more to myself there, sweetie.”
He groaned. “Don’t you dare make me laugh.”
“I love you.”
“Never get tired of hearing that.”
“I’m never going to stop saying it.”
“Is that a promise?” He flicked his eyes over to his sister. “Dani, you’re my witness.”
“I’m right behind you, we’ll find you in London.”
A tortured look twisted on his face. “Listen, Liv…”
Behind her, Dani cleared her throat. “I’ll tell her, Rafe.”
The team moved in around them again, and Dani tugged her back out in the hall.
“Tell me what?”
“Three other people were also shot. One of them was Lynn Howard. She didn’t make it.”
Olivia heard the words her sister-in-law said, but they didn’t make any sense. “What? How?”
Dani shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”
Lynn was dead. Panic swelled inside Olivia’s chest and she started crying again. Would she eventually run out of tears? Was that possible? “Where were they?”
Dani looked at the ground. “Rafe’s team executed warrants at a grow-op today. Lynn was there. We don’t know why.”
“Who…” She couldn’t ask the question—she didn’t want to know the answer.
Dani shook her head. “That’s all I know.”
Her kids. Olivia’s stomach heaved and she pressed her lips together, willing herself not to hurl in a hospital corridor. She lurched across the hall to an empty bathroom, barely shoving the door closed behind her before she lost her lunch.
When she came back out, Dani and Dean were waiting together, arguing quietly.
“Look, Dani, I’ve got to stick around for the SIU investigation. But I don’t want you driving down by yourself.”
“The last thing Olivia needs is a crowd of people—”
“Jake’s not a crowd, he’s her friend. He’s Rafe’s best friend. He’s going.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. She so did not have time for this. She stomped across the hall. “Dani, suck it up for one day. Dean…where’s Ryan?”
Pain lanced across her friend’s face. Ryan was his best friend. There’d been no love lost between Dean and Lynn, but that felt petty to remember in this moment. “In a quiet room, uhm…” He pointed vaguely in a direction away from the Emergency ward. “He’s with Lynn’s parents right now.”
“And the others?”
Dean shook his head. “Don’t know. Both guys are from the tactical unit. You probably don’t know them. One got hit in the thigh, but it missed the bone. He’s staying here. The other guy…” He looked at Dani.
“No news yet. He took the first chopper out.”
Olivia shuddered. She needed to sit down. This was just all too much to process. She turned in a small circle, but there weren’t any chairs. No. She needed to be strong. “Okay, let’s go to London.” She gave Dean a quick hug and headed in search of Jake.
— —
The car rolled to a stop and a drive-thru intercom crackled to life. From the passenger seat, Jake glanced back to where Olivia was pretending to sleep. “You want anything?”
She shook her head, but then her stomach gurgled. “Maybe a bagel and tea.”
She pressed herself up and glanced through the window. She recognized Listowel immediately. Another hour to London.
They ate in silence as Dani accelerated out of town. Olivia had expected…not fighting, exactly, but there was always a crackling tension between Jake and Dani. Not today. Somber worry and grief wrapped around all of them. Jake hadn’t even complained about Dani driving. Her car had been the obvious choice. The back seat was more comfortable and Jake’s truck was full of lumber—a stupid load to haul south for no reason.
But it wasn’t like a Foster boy to ride shotgun and not bitch about it.
As they neared London, Jake’s phone rang. “It’s Dean,” he explained, glancing at the display quickly before answering.
His end of the conversation was mostly listening noises. Grunts and affirmative hums. Olivia’s pulse ratcheted up. She leaned forward between the front bucket seats, her hand squeezing Jake’s upper arm. He hung up and quickly reassured her that all was fine. Dean had arranged for a London city police officer to meet them at the hospital entrance and help them find the surgery waiting room.
“So he’s gone in, then? Any update on how long it might take?”
Jake shook his head. They’d find out soon enough.
Their destination was the level 1 trauma hospital in the south end of town and Olivia thought that drive through the city took almost as long as the rest of the journey from Pine Harbour. They parked not far from the helipad
where Rafe would have landed and the thought sent shivers down her spine. Please let him get through this alive. So much could still go wrong in surgery and they really didn’t know anything about his condition. She tried to take comfort in the fact that she’d seen him. Talked to him. Touched him.
At some point on the drive, night had fallen and she’d missed it. Now it was dark and cold, that biting early winter temperature drop that annually surprised everyone. Jake and Dani introduced themselves to the waiting officer, but Olivia had tunnel visioned on the sliding glass doors in front of her. Somewhere on the other side, Rafe was in an operating room.
She was done sobbing, but a few quiet tears slid down her cheeks as they headed inside. In the waiting room, case numbers were displayed on small TV screens mounted around the room. The officer who’d met them had Rafe’s case number and handed it over before leaving to find someone to talk to them. A resident came and introduced himself, explaining that they expected the surgery to wrap up within the hour, and that Rafe would probably spend the night in the ICU before moving to a private room.
Dani asked a few questions about that, knowing more about the details than either Jake or Olivia, and Olivia pretended to listen like she understood. Really, she was just looking for the key words. As expected. No complications. Physical therapy. Additional surgery. Follow up in clinic. Anticipate six months recovery.
“He’s going to hate that,” she whispered.
Once they were alone again, Dani pulled her in for a hug. “He’s going to be thankful he’s alive. And I’ll kick his ass if he forgets.”
Dani’s shoulder was just the right height for Olivia to rest her head. “You should call your mom,” she said after a minute.
Jake laughed. “I’m texting Tom, he’s practically sitting on her and Mr. M to keep them from getting in their car and driving here.”
Dani sighed. “We won’t get to see him tonight, so we might as well get a hotel room.” She quickly corrected herself when Olivia tensed against her. “Not you, honey. You’ll be able to sit with him for a bit, and stay here…and then you can sleep tomorrow. I know I won’t be able to drag you off. But Jake and I might as well take shifts. And then you’ll have a quick place to shower and change tomorrow.”