Just Beyond Reach

by Candace Irvin

  Suddenly, Tess was sick to her stomach, and it wasn't due to the drug in her own system. It was Eddie. This filthy, greedy scheme. The man really was evil incarnate, just as Joe had said. "I'm so sorry; I should have listened—"

  "No, querida—" His lips brushed her temple. "Do not berate yourself. I will not have it. You could not have foreseen this."

  But when she tried to turn her face into his, he backed off—quickly. Apparently, he still wasn't having any part of them anymore, either. Even if they got out of this alive, he intended to make that transfer—and possibly worse.

  His brother.

  Regret turned to panic as she threaded her fingers through the shorter hair at his brow, because she'd finally realized why Joe had cut it. It hadn't been to impress a woman. Joe had worn his hair long since he was ten years old. She wasn't even sure he'd have cut it for her if she'd asked. But for his father? His mother?

  To avenge their murders?

  You bet he would.

  She might not have understood what Joe had been saying at the time, but he'd told her as much on the beach at Eddie's when he let it slip that he'd seen the murderer at the door of his childhood home, just before he'd seen his parents. Joe had to know that if he'd seen the murderer and could remember the man's face enough to identify him, the murderer could do the same.

  He'd cut his hair so he could join Miguel. He was preparing to visit upon his parents' killer what had been done to them.

  No wonder Joe had been so on edge lately. He'd known his life was about to come full circle.

  She suspected that he'd changed his mind somewhere between his vigil in the church and those hours they'd spent in bed. But then he'd had that dream again. If he no longer believed that he could have a life with her…would he change his mind back?

  Join his brother? Avenge his parents?

  She cupped the side of his face. "Joe, please—"

  "Now, that's what's missing from marriages today."

  They stiffened together.

  As they glanced up, the door at the far side of the makeshift hospital ward closed behind Eddie and the man from Gray's file: Arthur Brohm.

  Brohm smiled, his right hand resting atop the 9mm pistol tucked into the front of his jeans. "It's so refreshing to see. Caring, commitment. It really is what's missing, don't you think? The will to sacrifice yourself for the one you love—no matter what."

  The man flicked his cold stare to the row of beds behind them as Joe helped her into a sitting position.

  "Those folks all understand it. Sacrifice, that is." Brohm turned back, his brows arching. "The question is, do you two really feel it—or was that little caress, and everything else about you two, an act?" The man was looking directly at her.

  Tess didn't answer. She'd decided to follow Joe's lead. He'd already confronted this man once today. She hadn't.

  "Señora Santos, do you love your husband?"

  Again, she deferred to Joe, waiting for him to incline his head before she turned back. "Of course."

  That smile. It was as cold as the dirty CBP officer's eyes. So cold, it sent dread rippling down her spine.

  "That's good to hear, because I've decided to give you the chance to prove it."

  "I don't understand."

  "Of course, you don't—yet." Brohm kicked his chin toward Joe. "Your husband here tells me he's just a simple wetback trying to make a go of his club so he can support his wife—as opposed to doubling as some undercover agent named Vásquez. I took another hard look at the photos. Called a couple of friends and, yeah, the club exists. So, frankly, I'm inclined to accept his story…for now." He shrugged. "Of course, if you were to do me a small favor, I could be persuaded to accept his story permanently."

  Favor? She did not like the sound of this. From the slow exhale on her left, neither did Joe.

  "What kind of favor?"

  Another of those insidious smiles. "Nothing a nurse of your caliber can't handle. Something's come up. Our regular doctor can't make it, so I'd like you to fill in. I'd like you to perform a succession of…minor surgeries, if you will. Succession, in that there will be eight. Minor, in that you won't have to bother with stitching the patients up afterward, much less worry about follow-up care."

  "What?" She didn't bother hiding her shock—or her horror. In fact, she went with it, scooting down from the bed and holding onto the arm Joe shot out to support her. "You want me to—"

  "I don't want; I demand." That frozen flint in the man's eyes flicked from her to Joe. "And if you don't want to see your husband on one of those tables too, I expect to have your utmost cooperation—and soon."

  She opened her mouth, but Joe cut her off.

  "Señor, I require a moment with my wife. Alone."

  "No way—"

  Brohm held up a hand, severing Eddie's argument before the tech could finish it. She'd almost forgotten the bastard's presence.

  Almost.

  Eddie scowled as Brohm shrugged, clearly acceding to Joe's request, but he didn't argue further. The two turned and headed for the door. As it closed, neither she nor Joe pretended the men were anywhere but directly on the other side.

  Joe clasped her shoulders, keeping his voice extremely low. "We should take them now."

  "No." This was still her case. Her decision. She knew that and—no matter what Joe felt about her and for her personally—so did he. But she wanted him with her on this in his heart too. "Joe, think about it. And look at those people; really look at them. Five of them are kids."

  "I know." His sigh was terse, raw. His thrumming anger, hellishly hot.

  She pushed it, pushed him. "Then you also know that if we fail, those bastards are vile enough to harvest the kidneys themselves."

  "Agreed. Which is why we must take them—"

  "Separately."

  His frown deepened.

  "Don't you see? They're expecting us to try something. I know it, and you know it. That crap Eddie shot into me is almost out of my system—I can feel it. If we agree to do it and you can manage to lead one of them out of here, it just might lull the both of them into a false sense of security. We don't know how many others we're dealing with. The med student couldn't make it—but what about the thugs they're using as ambulance drivers? They may already be here. As for Eddie, I swear I can take him."

  "Tessa, no—"

  "Yes. Joe, he still thinks you're the reason we can't get it on, not me. Yeah, you put the fear of pain into him. But if I trip into the man and shove my breasts into his face on the way down, he'll forget about that. Or he'll talk himself into thinking he can get away with it. Men like him always do. He's screwed around with too many married women to think he can't do it again, even with you nearby. Either way, I don't need long. Just enough time to distract him. Christ, Joe, the man's brain is so one-track he didn't search me. Or if he did, he didn't get past my bra, because I've got my switchblade strapped to my thigh. We have to try. At best, we both make it. Worse, only one. Even then, those people—those kids—still have a chance."

  His hands came up to cup her cheeks, his fingers trembling as he threaded them into her hair. "Querida—"

  "I love you, Joe. You know that. Deep down, you also know I can do this." She covered his hands and squeezed, loaning him the strength and support he'd loaned her that day at that wall six years before, and so many times since. "Please. I am not her. You've got to let go of the past long enough to trust me to do my job."

  His eyes closed, but not before she saw the pain. The shame.

  "I cannot."

  "You can. You're stronger than you think. I know it."

  Though neither were looking, both of them heard the door reopen. She stretched up to her tiptoes and kissed him softly as it closed. She didn't care if they had an audience. It could only help the façade anyway.

  And if this was the last time she saw Joe—

  She kissed him again. But as she started to pull back, Joe slid his arms around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. F
or several blinding moments they were alone, back in the apartment, before Joe's nightmare. His kiss was swift, hungry and hard, telling her that he loved her too, and with all his heart.

  Then it was over, and Joe was walking away.

  She grabbed onto the edge of the bed she'd vacated, clenching the sheet beneath her fingers as she held on for dear life, knowing without a doubt that her dizziness and stinging vision had little to do with the injection Eddie had given her.

  It was because of Joe.

  She was dimly aware of him approaching Brohm and demanding a renegotiation of their share in the profits. After all, he and his wife were assuming a greater share of the work, as well as the risks. She heard Brohm suggest that, in light of what was about to happen within this makeshift operating room, he and Joe take their discussion outside. By the time she'd regained her balance and corralled the terror that she'd never see Joe alive again, he and Brohm were gone, leaving her with Eddie.

  The tech actually smiled, then dropped his gaze and leered.

  Outstanding. The bastard could drool all he wanted, because this was the last time that he'd be groping her—or anyone else.

  She inched forward, using the side of the bed as a prop.

  "You okay?"

  She shook her head, as if to clear it. "Still a bit shaky. What the heck did you give me, anyway?"

  "Ativan."

  She nodded. "That explains it. Never did react well to the stuff."

  "You need a hand?"

  "Do you mind?"

  That leer again. "Not at all, chiquita." She didn't even protest as the tech slid his arm about her waist, managing to feel up the lower curves of her ass as he led her across the room to the row of innocently oblivious patients.

  "I'll need to see the instruments and the rest of the supplies."

  "They're right here, behind the—"

  "Ouch."

  His hand dropped from her rear as she slammed into the corner of one of the beds, her wince only half faked as she doubled over. Tucking her right hand beneath the hem of her skirt, she quickly slipped her switchblade from its sheath, keeping it hidden within the fabric's folds as she straightened. "Sorry. I guess I'm…pretty dizzy."

  Again, she didn't protest as he pulled her in close. Nor did she protest as his hands traveled up to squeeze and fondle her breasts. If anything, those greedy fingers and that heated panting strengthened her resolve.

  They'd given the bastard and his equally vile boss away.

  Eddie had been truly terrified of Joe. It should've taken more time on her part, and definitely more effort, to convince him that she was still ripe for plucking. The only reason it hadn't was because Eddie believed he wouldn't have to face Joe later—ever.

  It didn't matter what deal Brohm was negotiating outside with Joe. The men had already decided to renege.

  Eddie latched onto her neck and groaned as he rubbed into her. She did gasp then, even pulled back slightly.

  "Relax, chiquita, we have time—"

  "Well, I don't." This time she shoved at his chest, knocking him back just far enough to allow her room to maneuver. "I want this done."

  The tech's gaze darkened as he finally caught sight of the disgust she'd been concealing since the moment she'd met him. He reached for her again, this time in fury. For all the bastard's bluster, the soft snick of her switchblade was all it took to stop him. That, and fact that the tip was now pressing into his groin.

  Rudely.

  The moment Eddie decided to take her on, she knew it—and nudged the point home. The tech yelped, and changed his mind.

  She smiled.

  He tried to mirror the twist—and failed miserably. "Let me guess. You want me to back off."

  She allowed her smile to deepen. "Yes…and no. Put your hands on your head."

  He did.

  She wasn't fooled for a second by his acquiescence. She could tell by the tension in those bulging arms that the moment she ordered him to turn around he was going to take her on. His eyes widened as she unsnapped his jeans, freed the zip and pushed them down his thighs, rolling her eyes as she spied the leopard spots on his boxers.

  The jerk's breath turned hot. And his interest had firmed back up.

  "Loose the fantasy, Tarzan."

  His interest wilted as she tucked the blade closer.

  Keeping her blade religiously married to the portion of Eddie's anatomy that he was keenest to protect, she slipped her free hand beneath her skirt once again. This time, she retrieved a plastic zipcuff. As she stood, she used the outer edge of that same hand to deliver a hard karate chop to Eddie's larynx. She withdrew her blade as the tech doubled over, moving behind his stunned form while he choked and heaved onto the concrete at their feet. Within seconds, she'd jerked the man's arms around his back and had him trussed up. She retrieved another zipcuff for his ankles.

  Several seconds later, Eddie Hernández was little more than an inert side of beef taking up space on the concrete floor.

  She grabbed a wad of gauze from the supply tray and stuffed it into his mouth, then finished it off with a tight wrapping of IV tape.

  Joe.

  She had to get to him, warn him.

  But her first priority was the patients. She couldn't leave them like this. Joe had said they were on propofol. For how long, she had no idea. But the longer they'd been on the anesthetic, the greater the risk of respiratory depression. She had to disconnect their IVs before she left. If something happened to her and to Joe, the kids might have a chance if the adults recovered in time.

  Tess started with the first, a man, extracting the IV needle swiftly, not even bothering to staunch the trickle of blood before she moved on to the woman beside him. Once she'd finished with the woman, she went on to disconnect the IVs of the three boys and two girls in rapid succession. But when she got to the final bed and the remaining man lying on it, and uncurled the fingers of his left hand, she froze.

  She turned the young man's hand over slowly, ice sliding through her veins as she smoothed her fingers over his well-tended, non-callused ones.

  This was not the hand of a destitute laborer.

  The medical student?

  Except, Brohm had claimed that he couldn't make it today. Or was that another lie? Had the student refused to perform outright murder?

  But if he had, who'd inserted the IVs? Because the lines had been inserted by a professional.

  Tess made the connection even as she removed the final IV and heard the door slide open behind her. Sure enough, she spun around to find the nurse she'd met days earlier standing ten feet away, a Glock identical to Brohm's in her hands.

  Nicole.

  The woman's smile was almost sad as she closed the distance between then, bypassing Eddie's gagged and trussed up body to trap Tess between the final two beds in the row. "I'm so sorry."

  Tess nearly groaned at her own arrogant stupidity. Yes, Joe was still wrong; she hadn't underestimated Eddie. But she had underestimated Nicole. Hell, she didn't even have her switchblade on her. It was seven patients away, lying on the bed next to the father.

  Tess jerked her chin toward the 9mm leveled on her abdomen. "You're not going to use that."

  "Yeah, I am."

  Tess shook her head. "No. You're not. If you could, you wouldn't need me to do your dirty work. You have the same skills I do—" She broke off as the rest of the pieces finally fell into place. Pieces she hadn't even realized were missing. Hazel eyes that weren't quite Eddie's preferred color. Fresh needle tracks, but no scars from older ones. Not to mention a watch that was so obvious, it should have come with a neon sign.

  After all, Nicole was a nurse. If she'd really been using—while working at a hospital around other medical personnel—the woman would probably have injected herself someplace a bit more unobtrusive. Say, between her toes or near her groin.

  Nicole must have planted it all to throw her off—and it had worked.

  "You never slept with Eddie, did you?"

  The dis
taste on Nicole's face confirmed it.

  But if Nicole wasn't sleeping with Eddie, and she wasn't addicted to drugs, why had she gotten mixed up with the man in the first place?

  "You're not the only one with marital trouble, Tess."

  She blinked.

  Nicole just laughed. "Arthur." But then her smile turned bitter. "The bitch doesn't deserve him."

  If anything, Tess was getting more confused. "Arthur's wife?"

  Nicole nodded, then shrugged. "I married the wrong brother."

  The confusion finally cleared as something Gray had said clicked into place. Just before she'd hung up on him outside Eddie's beach house, Gray told her he'd been on his way to discuss a connection regarding the money transfers into the stepbrother's savings account. Into Nicole's joint account. Tess doubted the brother was even aware of his recent windfall. And she'd bet her switchblade that was how Nicole and Arthur intended to keep it—for a while anyway. Until they were ready to abandon their respective spouses for good.

  If only she'd pressed Gray for more detail on the phone. But she'd been too frantic to locate Joe.

  Tess swept her left hand up the line of the couple's latest group of victims before turning back to the woman she'd called colleague. A fellow nurse. "Why?"

  Nicole shrugged. "I love him. I'm willing to sacrifice for him—for us." As if that explained it all. But to them, it probably did.

  "But you can't kill for him, can you?"

  When the gunshot exploded in the distance, its echo splitting through the walls of the makeshift hospital to ricochet down her spine, Tess wasn't so sure. She did know that the horror in Nicole's gaze was real—because it was mirrored within her heart.

  Joe.

  Had he fired the gun? Or had it been fired at him?

  She lunged forward, determined to go through Nicole and this gun if that was what it took to find out.