by CW Browning
“Miss. Walker?” the agent posted outside the room stuck his head around the corner of the door. Bill was one of the older, more seasoned agents. Recuperating from an injury that had forced him onto desk duty, he had jumped at the babysitting job just to get out of the office.
“Yes?” Stephanie came back from her thoughts with a jolt.
“I'm just going down to the cafeteria for some coffee,” he told her. “Would you like some?”
Stephanie shuddered.
“No thank you,” she replied. “And if I were you, I would stay away from it. I had some earlier. I don't know what it is, but it is not coffee.”
Bill grinned.
“Right. Maybe I'll get a soda,” he said before disappearing.
Stephanie knew that Bill was only here to get out and about again, but she was grateful for his presence. Until she had a better idea of what was going on, an agent was going to be outside that door at all times. Stephanie would rather it was a seasoned and mature one, rather than one of the young hotshots who thought they were above sentry duty.
The figure under the covers moved again restlessly, pulling Stephanie's attention back to the bed. She got up and went over to it, adjusting the covers. Angela still slept, but it was a restless sleep. The drugs were wearing off.
“Looks like she'll be coming around soon.”
Stephanie jumped and swung around, her heart pounding. Alina was standing directly behind her, looking over her shoulder at Angela. She was holding a brown paper bag with suspicious grease stains on the side in one hand and a carrier with two large soda cups in the other. Stephanie hadn't heard a sound.
“What....where did you come from?” Stephanie stuttered, embarrassed at her surprise.
Alina's dark eyes moved from Angela to Stephanie's face and she smiled slightly.
“Pat's,” she answered, holding up the bag. “It's not Cobb salad, but you did promise me a cheesesteak.”
Stephanie let out a short laugh and reached out to take the bag. The smell of cheesesteak and fried onions wafted through the air and she was suddenly ravenous.
“I haven't even thought of food!” she exclaimed.
Alina went over to the table and moved the laptop, setting the sodas on the table.
“I figured as much,” she replied, pulling the second chair over from the other side of the room.
Stephanie pulled out the two sandwiches, wrapped in their white-gray hoagie paper, and dropped into her chair. Alina set her chair with the back against the wall, facing the bed, and sat down on the other side of the table. She unwrapped the steak sandwich that Stephanie handed her.
“Have you spoken to John?” Alina asked.
“Yes,” Stephanie mumbled, her mouth already full. “And where have you been?”
“Busy.”
Alina took a big bite of Amoroso roll filled with paper-thin steak slices, melted American cheese, and fried onions. Both women were silent for a moment, one enjoying her first taste of Philly in ten years and the other wondering how long it would be before she got a straight answer.
Alina chewed slowly, her eyes on the bed and the restless figure there. Her fury was gone and in its place was nagging guilt. She should have taken Angela more seriously. If she had...Alina stopped the thought even as it formed. If Angela hadn't been there to block the shot, Stephanie would be dead. Neither one was a situation that should have arisen at all. Viper had brought the Engineer into the lives of her old friends, albeit unknowingly. Now she had to be the one to protect them. Alina only knew one way of doing that.
“What's the verdict from the doctor?” she asked, poking a straw into one of the sodas.
Stephanie wiped grease off her mouth with a napkin.
“He said she was extremely lucky,” she told her. “The bullet went straight through her shoulder. Her scapula is shattered, but none of the bone fragments ended up in her lungs, which he seems to think is a miracle.”
“Nerve damage?” Alina asked.
“He thinks it's minimal. He's more concerned with infection right now,” Stephanie answered, sitting back in her chair and sipping the other soda. “Once she's out of risk of infection, they'll go in and see more. But right now, it looks like months of reconstruction and pain, but nothing more than that.”
“Thank God,” Alina breathed, picking up the sandwich again.
“The bullet grazed her ribs and then exited out the front,” Stephanie continued. “Knowing Angie, I'm sure she'll have something to say about the scar that will be right above her breast,” she added thoughtfully.
Alina grinned despite herself.
“She can get a tattoo around it. It'll be hot,” she said.
Stephanie was surprised into a snort of laughter.
“Can you imagine?” she demanded, picking up her sandwich again.
Alina was silent for a moment.
“Did you find the bullet?” she asked casually after a moment.
Stephanie shook her head.
“No,” she replied. “John has just about torn up the sidewalk,” she added, glancing at Alina. She was staring at the bed thoughtfully. “Any ideas?” Stephanie prompted after a moment.
Alina shook her head.
“It has to be somewhere,” she replied. “When it turns up, let me know,” she added.
Stephanie nodded and they fell silent again. The figure in the bed stirred restlessly again.
“You haven't been home to change,” Alina said suddenly. “I'll stay here if you want to go get a change of clothes.”
Stephanie looked at her. Alina was still wearing the linen pants, but her blood-soaked white shirt had been exchanged for a black tank top, and the linen jacket for a light-weight, black windbreaker.
“John is bringing me the change of clothes from my desk drawer,” Stephanie answered. “I always keep a bag there. But thanks.”
Alina nodded, sitting back in the chair. The sandwich was gone and her stomach was full.
“Do I smell...cheesesteak?”
Angela's voice croaked suddenly from the bed. Alina was out of the chair and next to the bed instantly. Angie's green eyes were open and she was staring up at her groggily. Stephanie went to the other side of the bed.
“You're awake,” she stated the obvious, checking the monitors.
Angie turned her head to look at her.
“And you're eating cheesesteak,” she retorted.
Alina felt relief wash through her at the disgruntled tone in Angie's voice. She was going to be just fine.
“How do you feel?” Alina asked, glancing at the monitors.
“Like I've been hit by a truck,” Angela answered. “What happened?”
“You got hit by a bullet,” Stephanie told her. “It went through your shoulder.”
“Who shot me?” Angela asked, looking from one to another. “Why? What the hell?!”
“I'll go get the nurse,” Stephanie said, glancing across the bed at Alina.
Alina nodded and Stephanie left the room, leaving Alina to explain as much, or as little, as she saw fit. Angela stared at her, waiting. Alina shrugged.
“Someone was aiming at Stephanie and you tripped and got in the way,” she told her flatly. “What were you doing there?”
“I don't know,” Angela said slowly with a frown. “I remember seeing you turn around to catch me when I tripped, then that's all I remember.”
“That's when you got shot.” Alina twitched the blankets to straighten them out. “Were you following me again?”
“No.” Angela yawned widely. “I told you I wouldn't. I was going to follow Stephanie, but then you showed up, so I thought I'd join you both.”
Angela looked up at Alina, her green eyes the only color in her face. Alina stared down at her, fighting the sense of ridiculous laughter that was threatening her composure.
“You were dressed in a trench coat,” she pointed out, her lips twitching. Angie started to shrug, then her eyes widened in pain and she groaned. Alina reached out and gently to
uched her left shoulder. “It's your right shoulder. It's shattered,” she said quietly. “The pain meds are only going to do so much, so don't move it.”
Angie nodded, unable to speak yet and closed her eyes. Alina watched her patiently, waiting for the pain to pass. After a moment, Angela opened her eyes again.
“The trench coat was my disguise,” she said breathlessly. “Everyone always wears a trench coat in the movies.”
“And a bowler hat?” Alina grinned.
Angela looked disgruntled again.
“It was the only hat I could find that matched the coat,” she replied.
“Of course it was,” Alina agreed with a sigh. She fought back the laughter that was threatening again. “How long have you been following Stephanie?”
“Today was my first day,” Angie answered. “I'm not very good at it, am I?”
Alina grinned.
“No,” she answered bluntly.
“Why was someone trying to shoot Stephanie?” Angie asked.
“Because of the case she's working on,” Alina answered promptly. “Now, I want you to promise me something before she comes back with the nurse,” she added urgently.
Angela smiled slightly, her face drawn and tired.
“If I can remember it,” she agreed.
“There is an agent on duty outside this room, and there will be for a while. It will be the same two agents, rotating shifts,” Alina told her, leaning down so that Angela could hear her lowered voice. “I want you to tell me if anything changes, anything at all. If the agent on duty even looks funny one day, I want to know about it. If a new nurse walks by, I want to know about it. Understand?”
“Ok,” Angela agreed, unusually serious.
Alina nodded.
“My phone is always on. Just text me if anything changes,” she said, straightening up as Stephanie came back into the room with a nurse bustling behind her.
“Awake now, are we?” the nurse said cheerfully. “Are you feeling any pain?”
“Yes,” Angela answered miserably.
Alina moved away from the bed unobtrusively, watching as the nurse adjusted the IV and checked the monitors. Stephanie joined her at the table.
“Did you tell her?” she asked in a low voice.
“Not everything,” Alina answered, gathering the hoagie papers and stuffing them into the brown paper bag again. “All she knows is that someone was aiming for you and got her.”
“Shouldn't we tell her?” Stephanie asked.
Alina glanced up.
“To what purpose?” she asked. “All she'll do is worry.”
Alina picked up the bag of trash and her soda. Stephanie opened her mouth to say something, but Alina stopped her with her next comment.
“Besides, once I find him, it will be a moot point,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Alina flipped on the light in her bedroom, walking over to sink onto the edge of the bed tiredly. She had thoroughly canvassed the area around her house and the security system was on. If anything over five feet tall breached the new perimeter, she would know about it.
Rubbing her neck, she kicked off her boots. She had left the hospital immediately after her cryptic comment to Stephanie, aware that she had said too much. Stephanie's eyes had narrowed and Alina had the uneasy feeling that her old friend was starting to put two and two together a lot faster than Alina had expected. She passed John in the hall, coming from the elevators with a duffel bag in his hand. He looked like he wanted to talk, but Alina had stopped him by telling him that Angela was awake. He had nodded and continued on to the room while Alina left quickly. She pulled into the driveway a little before ten, exhausted and irritable. One word kept coming through the haze of confusion in her mind: Why.
Why Stephanie? Why not John? Why now? Why somewhere so public? Why had he missed? Why was he risking his game by adding new targets? Why?
Alina got up and padded into the bathroom, switching on the overhead fluorescent light. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and a pale face with dark rings under her eyes stared back. Discarding her jacket, she pulled her .45 out of her back holster and set it on the vanity. The holster joined it and Alina dropped her eyes to the soft square bulge at her side under her tank top. She looked at the water glass on the vanity next to the sink.
An elongated lump of metal with a flattened nose lay unobtrusively inside.
She supposed she would have to pass the bullet on to Stephanie, but she wanted to run ballistics on it first to find out what fired it. Alina looked back at her reflection and took a deep breath, lifting the bottom of the tank and gingerly pulling it over her head. The top came away from the gauze bandage on her side with reluctance and Alina saw what she already knew: she was seeping. She dropped the tank top onto the floor with her jacket and stared at the discolored gauze bandage in the mirror.
She hadn't realized the bullet had lodged in her side until after she left John on the roof and was heading back to the car. The anger and adrenaline had blocked the pain, and they had all assumed the blood on her shirt was Angela's. Once in the car, Alina pressed on the numbing stiffness on her side and the resulting pain made her gasp. By the time she reached the house, she was light-headed and woozy from loss of blood.
Alina sighed now and reached for the bottle of brandy that was still on the counter. She drank some earlier before sitting on the side of the bathtub and digging the bullet out of the flesh in her side. After getting the bullet out, she had poured hydrogen peroxide on the wound, covered it with a gauze bandage, and left the house again.
Now, Alina poured some brandy into the glass she had left next to the bottle and sipped it, letting the heat burn a path down to her belly while she stared at the bullet thoughtfully. It was a 45mm round and she was lucky that it had decreased in velocity enough not to have gone straight through.
Setting the glass down, she slowly pulled the bandage away from the wound. The hole had partially closed up, but was still seeping. Alina dropped the bandage in the sink and opened up the cabinet to pull out a fresh one. After gently cleaning the wound with hydrogen peroxide again and wiping away the dried blood, she covered the hole again with a folded gauze bandage. She covered that with a larger bandage, expertly taping it down. She had just finished cleaning up when her cell phone rang.
“Yes?” she answered.
“What happened?” Damon's voice sounded in her ear, deep and masculine, with a lot of noise in the background.
Alina raised her eyebrow, ignoring the sudden thump as her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.
“What makes you think something happened?” she asked.
“Stephanie left a message on my phone,” he replied.
Alina rolled her eyes.
“The Engineer took a shot at Stephanie,” she told him, sinking down on the side of of the tub. “He missed and hit Angela.”
There was a brief silence.
“And you?” Damon asked.
Alina looked at her pale face in the mirror.
“I'm fine,” she answered.
“Where is he now?” Hawk demanded.
Alina was starting to make out the noises in the background. He was at an airport.
“I don't know,” Alina admitted. “But I'll find him.” There was another short silence.
“I don't suppose you'll consider waiting until I get back now?” Damon asked.
Alina's eyes narrowed slightly and irrational irritation washed over her.
“And why would I do that?” she asked softly. Even over the phone, her voice sounded a little dangerous.
“Two guns are better than one,” Damon retorted shortly.
“I wasn't trained to work in pairs,” Alina shot back. “Neither were you,” she added as an after-thought.
“Why so defensive?” Damon demanded.
“You're implying I can't handle the situation,” Alina answered, irritation propelling her off the side of the tub and into the bedroom. She stalked downstairs restlessly, aware
that her pain was making her unreasonable but unable to prevent it.
“I don't think you can't handle it,” he replied. “I would just be happier if I were there...”
“To keep an eye on things?” Alina finished for him, reaching the first floor and heading to the kitchen. The resulting silence was damning. A fresh wave of irritation washed over her. “Wow. That may be the first time you've insulted me.”
“I'm not insulting you,” Damon snapped. “You were buried in the wilderness for two years...”
He stopped suddenly, as if realizing that he was making things worse. Alina gasped and the irritation turned to anger.
“So I'm naturally a little rusty,” she agreed, her voice almost pleasant.
There was a loud sigh in her ear.
“You're putting words in my mouth,” Damon muttered.
“No, dear. You're doing that all by yourself,” Alina retorted, the anger making its way into her voice. She slammed the sauté pan down onto the island and stepped back as the island slid to the side.
“I haven't slept in thirty-eight hours. Give me a break,” he said.
Alina grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and started down the steps to her lair.
“Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, Hawk,” she answered silkily. “We used to go days without sleep.”
“That was five years ago,” Hawk muttered. Alina dropped into the chair in front of her laptop. “Sleep is the best weapon we have.”
“Age must be catching up with you,” Alina retorted.
There was a short silence.
“Are you done with your temper tantrum?” Hawk finally asked. “Can we get back to business?”
Alina inhaled sharply through her nose and clenched her back teeth.
“You can certainly get back to whatever it is that you're doing. I have to look up the instruction manual for my rifle. I'm not sure I remember how to clean it properly,” she said waspishly.