Intensive Care Crisis

by Karen Kirst

  Audrey started to follow. He stopped her with a single, stay-put glance.

  Purposeful footsteps echoed in the empty space below. Coming closer.

  Adrenaline pumped through her system. There would be no flight in this situation. Stay and fight.

  “Tan? You up there?”

  Beneath Julian’s white cotton shirt, his rigid shoulders bunched and relaxed. “McMann?”

  Audrey couldn’t resist joining Julian. A raven-haired man appeared at the bottom, his assessing blue gaze bouncing between them. Based on his military regulation haircut, straight-spine stance and air of command, she guessed he was a marine.

  “What are you doing here?” Julian demanded. “I could’ve put a bullet in you, and then Tori would’ve throttled me.”

  He dangled a set of keys and began the climb. “I was told you could use a ride.”

  They moved farther down the hallway to give him room.

  “Audrey, this is Cade McMann. He’s a staff sergeant with a grunt unit at Lejeune.” His brow furrowed. “I thought you and Tori would be in California by now.”

  “Our move date got pushed back two months.” Handing Julian the keys, he looked at Audrey. “It’s nice to meet you, Audrey. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

  His expression was sincere. Kind, even. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if Julian’s friends blamed her for putting him in harm’s way. “Me, too.”

  Julian led them into the dining and kitchenette area. “Brady shouldn’t have involved you. Too risky.”

  “You were there for Tori and me when we were in trouble. Of course I want to be involved. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

  Julian set his chin in that familiar stubborn angle. “Tori is exactly why you should stay out of it.”

  “She’d be appalled if I didn’t help. In fact, she insisted you borrow her car.”

  Audrey separated the blinds slats. A black Volkswagen Beetle was parked parallel to the building.

  Julian arched an eyebrow. “The car you bought to replace the one that got blown up?”

  “Excuse me?” Audrey turned away from the window.

  Cade grimaced. “It’s a complicated story.”

  “Like ours?” she said.

  “Yes.” He nodded, his expression grave. “But we survived. God walked us through it, just like He will you and Julian.”

  * * *

  “What’s your plan?”

  Julian’s gaze lingered on Audrey and Brady, who were talking in the opposite corner near the bathroom. The captain had arrived shortly after Cade, bearing more gifts. A change of clothes for each of them—purchased at the base exchange—and pillows and burner phones.

  “Tan?”

  “Hmm?” Forcing his attention to Cade, he noticed the perceptive smile and knew he’d been caught. “What did you say?”

  “I asked about your plans, but maybe I should be asking a different question.”

  “You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer,” he retorted. “As for finding a way out of this predicament, we’re going to have to perform our own detective work. Learning the identity of the person who framed Audrey is key.” He told Cade about Frank, Chasity and Lincoln. “There’s also her supervisor to consider—Veronica Mills.”

  “Let me come with you. Audrey can stay here.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, “Brady has no one to go home to. He’d agree to keep her company.”

  That was true. Brady had no family—his parents had abandoned him as a child, and the grandmother who’d raised him had already passed. Because of his troubled childhood, the pilot was very selective about who he let close. He didn’t date often. Most assumed he was married to his career, but Julian thought Brady was simply scared of getting hurt.

  “Audrey won’t agree to stay behind and be babysat.”

  “She doesn’t look tough,” Cade said softly. “In fact, she gives off a feminine, fragile vibe.”

  Julian bristled. “You’re dead wrong. She’s got courage in spades. If you’d seen her in action like I have—rushing in to save both of us despite her lack of training—you wouldn’t spout such nonsense.”

  Grinning, Cade gripped his arm. “Relax, brother. You know others frequently underestimate my wife, as well, to their peril.”

  Unclenching his fists, he rolled his eyes. Cade was fishing for information Julian wasn’t about to divulge, goading him to reveal his feelings.

  “Why don’t you go home to her, McMann?”

  “Evasive. Defensive. You’ve got the classic signs.” Cade’s grin turned wolfish. “Wait until Tori hears this.”

  “Hears what?” Brady said, strolling over.

  He and Audrey had abandoned their corner and were looking at them with undisguised interest.

  “Nothing.” Julian shot Cade a quelling glance.

  In truth, he wasn’t so much irritated with his friend as he was with himself. He was supposed to be adept at keeping his thoughts and emotions hidden. It had only taken Cade minutes to figure out the score. If this work hiatus continued much longer, he’d have to repeat his training. And the SERE program, where certain government personnel went to learn survival skills, had hardly been a walk in the park.

  After the men left, Audrey grabbed the plastic bag Brady had given her. “I’m going to change.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Julian rifled through his bag and produced a small box. “I asked Brady to get you something.”

  Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “You want me to dye my hair?”

  “A hat and dark glasses are enough to disguise me. I’m going to forgo shaving for a while and—” He produced a pair of cut-outs—a large, black scorpion and a simple anchor. “Sport temporary tattoos.”

  She came over and inspected them. “Those look real.”

  “It’s tattoo paper. Brady printed them using a home printer. I’ll need you to wet the adhesive and apply the letters.” He indicated the area on the back of his neck above his collar. “The scorpion will go on my biceps where it will be visible beneath my T-shirt.”

  Her eyes were big and dark, her face inches from his. Memories of their recent kiss, as well as the many emotionally charged moments they’d shared, surged, an intangible but powerful connection. He wasn’t alone in what was developing between them, and that made it harder to fight.

  Clearing her throat, she curved her hair behind her ear. “I can handle that.”

  “I don’t have tattoos, so this should cause any casual suspicions to be dismissed upon first glance.”

  “Right.” Flipping over the dye box, she skimmed the directions. Straight, white teeth worried her bottom lip.

  “It’s your decision,” he said.

  “Oh, why not? I might decide I like it.”

  * * *

  Julian parked the Volkswagen several houses down from Frank’s. He lived in an older section of town, which was a mixture of restored bungalows with neat lawns and run-down homes with cracked driveways and chain-link fencing. Frank’s belonged to the latter group. A broken streetlight aided their task—they could slip into his yard undetected and break in.

  “Do you know if he has a dog?” Julian asked, his hand at her elbow.

  “No pets. He’s allergic.”

  “Good.”

  “What do we do if he comes home?”

  “We have a chat with him.”

  Pulse racing, Audrey entered through the gate he held open. Together, they strode through the carport and around to the back. Shoulder-high hedges rimmed the modest yard. A dilapidated shed sat at a steep angle in the far corner. The house was cloaked in complete darkness.

  Julian jimmied the rear door open and entered first, passing his flashlight over the interior. “Kitchen.”

  An odd odor assailed her. “Smells like marijuana.” Sensing his surprise, she said, “Enough
patients come in with the stench on their clothes. I haven’t noticed it on Frank. He probably stores his scrubs in a locker at work.”

  “Let’s start in the master bedroom.”

  Audrey stayed close behind him. The old floors creaked and groaned with their weight, and she hoped the joists didn’t give way.

  “If Frank is getting paid on the side,” she said, “he isn’t funneling the money into the upkeep of his home.”

  “Could be building a nest egg,” Julian said, striding into the bedroom and bouncing the beam around. “Or fueling a drug addiction.”

  “Gerald doesn’t strike me as the type to suffer fools. He wouldn’t put up with a drugged-out RN for long.”

  “Good point. They’d be at risk of leaking his secret, too.”

  While he searched under and around the bed, Audrey flicked on her own flashlight and rummaged through the chest of drawers. Nothing of interest there. She went into the grimy bathroom and, tamping down her disgust, looked through the drawers and under the sink. She even lifted the lid of the toilet tank to be sure he hadn’t strapped something to the inside. Gross.

  Returning to the room and wishing she had sanitizer gel, she found Julian rifling through the closet. A single lightbulb swinging from a string cast a circle of light on the contents and him. She caught the way he glanced at her. His enigmatic gaze ran over her hair and, predictably, his lips firmed into a tight line. This particular reaction had played out multiple times ever since she’d adopted her new hair color... Ruby Rush.

  She lifted her fingers to her loose braid. “You hate it, don’t you?”

  “No,” he sighed. “I do not hate it.”

  “Well, I don’t like your tattoos.”

  His brows inched up a notch.

  Twin beams strobed through the bedroom window as a car pulled into the driveway. Julian tugged on the lightbulb string, and darkness blanketed the room.

  Audrey forgot to be upset as he positioned himself at the window. “Frank’s getting out of the car.” Julian muttered beneath his breath. “He’s got company.”

  “What?” Clutching his shoulder, she leaned closer to the glass and spotted three men exiting a truck that was blocking Frank’s driveway. “Maybe we should sneak out the back.”

  “Hold on.”

  Frank lifted his hands, palms up, and his mouth started flapping. Two men flanked him and the third got up close and personal.

  “They don’t look anything like Gerald’s men,” she said.

  These were street thugs as opposed to high-class goons-for-hire.

  “Whoever they are, they aren’t happy to see him.”

  Julian shifted his stance, and his cheek brushed her temple.

  She unpeeled her fingers from his muscular physique. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to crowd you.”

  “I wasn’t bothered,” he said, shrugging.

  Audrey would’ve liked to discuss what was happening between them. He was the first man she’d allowed herself to care about since losing Seth. Not that she’d consciously chosen to like him. The feelings had taken root as they’d been thrown together in one dangerous situation after another. If only Julian wasn’t skilled at pulling a curtain over his feelings, maybe she’d have a clue how he felt about her. Was he happy about that kiss? Or did he regret it? Did he like her as much as she liked him?

  Was he—like her—trying to remain levelheaded about the whole thing and not let it get out of control?

  Audrey was relieved he couldn’t read her thoughts. This was hardly the time for self-examination.

  Outside, Frank was gesturing wildly and nodding his head. Whatever he said convinced them to leave. Their tires squealed as they rumbled down the street.

  “Let’s go.”

  Julian hustled her to the laundry room off the kitchen. He told her to stay there until he was certain Frank wasn’t armed. Without his own weapon, Julian had to use brute force and cunning to subdue the enemy.

  She didn’t do exactly as instructed. Flattened against the hulking fridge just outside the laundry room, she inched farther into the kitchen and was able to discern Julian’s tall form wedged in the corner behind the door.

  Frank rushed inside, locked the door behind him and switched on the overhead light. He tossed his keys on the round dining table and buried his face in his hands.

  Julian left his hiding spot. “Hello, Frank.”

  Frank gasped and whipped around. “Who are you?” He shoved a chair between them. “What are you doing in my house?”

  “Who were those men, Frank?” Julian advanced.

  “I’ve seen you before. Where?” His retreat brought him closer to Audrey. “I—I’m going to call the cops.”

  “I don’t think you want to do that.” His steps were slow. Measured. “You’re involved in something shady, aren’t you, Frank?”

  He lunged for the knife block beside the sink and brandished a long, sharp blade. “Get out.”

  Julian cocked a single brow.

  Audrey stepped fully into the room. “Drop the knife, Frank.”

  Frank’s mouth slackened. “What have you done to your hair?” Then his brows snapped together. Dislike oozed from his pores. “Now I’m calling the cops. Two fugitives have invaded my home.”

  The moment he sank his free hand in his jeans pocket, Julian snapped into action—he relieved Frank of his weapon, imprisoned his arm behind his back and shoved him into the nearest wooden chair.

  Audrey picked up the discarded knife and replaced it in the block. Turning back, she caught his baleful glare and suppressed a shudder. Now that she’d been ousted from the hospital, he wasn’t attempting to mask his loathing.

  “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you transferred to our unit,” he spat.

  Julian’s grip on the back of his neck intensified. “Because she interfered with your operation, right? She didn’t turn a blind eye on your illegal activities. Pretty inconvenient for you and your friends, I’d say.”

  A vein bulged in his temple. “No. I didn’t have anything to do with the missing supplies or diverted narcotics. Everyone believes she’s the culprit,” he sneered. “If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck...”

  Audrey’s spirits sagged. She’d feared that would be the outcome of the news report.

  Julian’s lips thinned. Bringing his mouth close to Frank’s ear, he spoke with soft, deadly promise. “I’ve been taught how to kill a man with my bare hands. It’s easier than you might think.”

  The color drained from his face. “I can’t help you.”

  “You can and you will, starting with the identity of those men and what they want with you.”

  Jaw hardening, he squirmed on the chair, his bloodshot eyes shifting from side to side.

  “Audrey, please go in the other room,” Julian said.

  His shuttered expression revealed nothing of his intentions.

  She hesitated, rocking back on her feet.

  He lifted his coppery brown eyes. “I don’t want you to have to witness this.”

  Frank cranked his head around. “Witness what?”

  “Audrey.” A muscle twitched in his cheek.

  Was he serious? “I’ve been exposed to plenty of unpleasant sights in my line of work.”

  “If you stay and watch,” he uttered calmly, “you could be called to testify against me.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. “Oh.” She started to leave.

  “Wait!” Frank called out. “Ronald’s my bookie. The other two are higher up the gambling chain.”

  Julian scowled. “Illegal gambling, Frank? You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s the truth.” Sweat beaded his upper lip. “I can prove it.”

  He cracked his knuckles. “I’m waiting.”

  “Behind the dryer. There’s a metal box.”


  Audrey returned to the laundry room. “Found it.”

  Scooting the dryer a few centimeters out from the wall enabled her to retrieve the box. She set it on the dining table and pried open the lid. Stacks of bills, along with gambling stats on everything from MMA fights to horse races to basketball games, supported his claim.

  “You see?”

  Julian thumbed through the notebooks. “You’ve had more slumps than wins lately.”

  “My fortunes will turn around.”

  “Better rethink that before you get yourself killed.”

  Taking out his burner phone, he snapped pictures of Frank holding the box of evidence, as well as up-close photos of the stats in his handwriting. He stuffed one notepad into his cargo pants’ side pocket. “If, after we leave here, you contact the authorities or tell anyone about our visit, these will wind up in a detective’s inbox. Understand?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I won’t snitch.”

  When they were in the car driving away, she turned to stare out the rear window. It had been strange to see gruff, belligerent Frank trembling with fear.

  “Do you think he’ll keep his word?” she said, turning to face forward.

  Julian was as unflappable as ever. “He’s the type to protect his own interests above everything else. He won’t risk it.”

  Her gaze traced his profile as passing streetlights threw it in sharp relief. “Were you bluffing? Threatening him to get him to talk?”

  One hand held the wheel, the other rested on his thigh. “The goal is always to achieve my objectives without the use of violence.”

  “Unless you have no other choice.”

  “I’m a force-recon marine, Audrey. It’s not what I do. It’s who I am.”

  The statement wasn’t new. As the daughter of a marine, she’d heard similar slogans. Once a marine, always a marine. Julian’s passion set him apart. He loved the corps. He lived and breathed a warrior’s life. It was a timely reminder to focus on what was important—clearing their names and putting Gerald and his cohorts behind bars.

  There was no room in his life for her.