Blood Lines: Edge of Darkness Book 3

by Vanessa Skye

  “You . . . need to go.” He blinked a few times and frowned as if he couldn’t quite get her face in focus.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m staying here with you until the ambulance gets here.”

  “No . . . can’t explain you . . . being here to cops.”

  “I’ve got it, Berg. Go.” Short pulled her to her feet. “I won’t let the pig-headed idiot die, I swear.”

  Berg hesitated for only a second and then nodded. She needed to get to Jay before her father did.

  Two fire trucks arrived, and the firefighters immediately started dousing the chopper in foam while spraying water on the still smoldering remains of Alexander’s drugs and cash. She assumed the other vehicle was spraying foam on the jet, but she couldn’t see it. The firemen hadn’t seen Arena yet, hidden behind the scaffolding as they were.

  “Go . . . don’t make me . . . kick your ass,” Arena said, barely conscious.

  Berg heard more sirens and recognized one of them as a rapidly approaching ambulance. She looked down at her leg. A twisted piece of metal was embedded in the meaty part of her outer thigh. She took a deep breath and pulled it out, gasping and leaving a two-inch-long gash about an inch deep, which bled profusely. It would need stitches, but it wasn’t life threatening. She grabbed some of the torn fabric of her jacket, pulling it free, and wrapped the rag around her leg, securing it tightly to stem the bleeding.

  She limped to the door in the wall and threw one last glance back at Arena and Short.

  The latter nodded and shooed her away.

  Making her way back to the car, she flicked on her cell phone and dialed the O’Loughlin family home. “Liz,” she said when Jay’s sister answered sleepily.

  She must be helping look after Carmel.

  “You all need to get out of the house and to your nearest police station immediately.”

  It would take Alexander at least forty-five minutes to get to the house, even if he sped, and he’d only been gone for ten, but who was to say he wouldn’t send his people first.

  “Don’t argue with me! You promised me. Put Carmel in the car, and get out of there now. Do it!” She hung up, turned the ignition of her car, did a U-turn, and headed south to Lake Forest Hospital.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  She limped through the emergency entrance of the hospital, aware that she looked as though she’d been caught in a bloody hurricane. She had retied her singed hair back, smoothing it as best she could, and replaced the shredded shirt with a spare she had in her car, but her black pants were shiny with her blood, and her skin was raw on her arms and face. She attracted a few concerned stares but shook her head as various doctors and nurses tried to assist.

  It was an equal bet which direction Alexander would head—the hospital to kill Jay, or the O’Loughlin home to kill his family. He wouldn’t leave town without doing one or the other, she knew, because she’d recognized the need for vengeance that had twisted his features as he had tried to kill her. Her own need for blood and justice reflected on her father’s face had been sobering, to say the least.

  She made her way up to the maternity unit on the sixth level as quickly as her injured leg would allow. If the baby had lived, it would be in the NICU, and Jay would be close by. If the baby hadn’t lived, who knew where Jay would be, but at least he’d be safe and away.

  She wasn’t sure which outcome she hoped for more.

  “There you are,” Cheney called from behind her as she made her way down the busy corridor. “Jay said you were around here somewhe—” Cheney froze. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as she turned to him.

  “Nothing, I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” Cheney frowned as he looked her over, his gaze lingering on the still seeping wound in her thigh. “Is that a stab wound?”

  Berg shook her head.

  “Are those burns?”

  “I got in a, uh, um, an MVA. But my wounds are superficial.”

  “Did you report this MVA?” Cheney crossed his arms.

  Berg shook her head. “What’s it to you? No one else was involved.”

  Cheney swore under his breath and rubbed his shiny bald head with both hands. “Arena was just brought in by ambulance and taken straight up to surgery for a brain injury. Don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”

  Berg gave him her best look of surprise. “Arena’s hurt? Is he going to be okay? What happened?”

  Cheney raised an eyebrow. “They don’t know yet. Apparently he followed Alexander, and he and another CPD detective, Short something or other, single-handedly thwarted Alexander’s attempted escape on a long-range private jet by blowing up an aircraft hangar and the jet, but Arena was shot in the process. And now here you are, looking like you’ve just survived a close shave in Afghanistan.”

  “Is Alexander in custody?”

  Cheney shook his head. “No. We don’t know where he is.”

  Berg frowned. “Fuck, Cheney. He could be on his way here to get Jay. Maybe you should call in some extra bodies to guard the hospital?” She held her breath as Cheney decided.

  He inclined his head slightly. “I can do that, if you think it’s necessary. Is it, Berg?”

  Berg let out a sigh of relief and gave Cheney a small smile. “I think it would be prudent. And maybe send the CPD past Jay’s mom’s home, too?”

  Cheney grimaced and nodded. “Jay’s down the hall in the NICU with his son, so you can get reacquainted before you’re both questioned. But you and I? We’re going to talk later, okay?”

  “Whatever, Cheney.” Berg shrugged and pushed open the door to the neonatal unit. Spying Jay sitting next to a humidicrib, she limped toward him.

  He was so enthralled with his newborn son he didn’t even see Berg approach until she was right next to him.

  She looked in the crib and was delighted to see a pink, chubby-cheeked little baby happily sleeping. The one nurse in attendance nodded at her kindly and left the room to give them some privacy.

  “Meet Jack O’Loughlin,” Jay whispered to Berg proudly, his cheeks wet from tears.

  Berg smiled and felt tears gathering behind her eyes as well. “You named him after your grandfather? He’s beautiful,” she said. “He looks like you. Is he . . . okay?”

  Jay frowned slightly. “They don’t know yet—they need to run some more tests. He was blue when he was born, apparently, but the doctor said he responded quickly to oxygen.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “We need to go. Alexander’s in the wind and seriously pissed off.”

  Her appearance seemed to finally register. “Fuck, are you okay?” he asked, standing and reaching out to her. “You’re bleeding! Let me call a doc—”

  “Stop! I’m okay, Arena’s not. He’s in surgery as we speak. I tried . . . I wanted to . . . for you . . . but Alexander got away.”

  Jay understood quickly. “My family—”

  “Already on it. Liz just texted me that they’ve gone to the local police station, and I’ve asked her to call your sisters so they can do the same with their families. It’s you I’m worried about . . . and Jack. We have to get you both out of here.”

  Jay held up his hands, and Berg noticed for the first time that they were handcuffed in front of him and attached to his chair. “I can’t go anywhere. I wouldn’t leave my son even if I could. There’s no way Alexander would risk—”

  “You didn’t see the look in his eyes, Jay. Alexander wants blood and may already be here! He had a head start on me.” Berg searched the unit until she found a thick piece of wire and tubing. She unwound it from the unused IV stand and rushed back to Jay. Bending the wire, she placed it in the keyhole of the handcuffs and wiggled it about until they clicked open.

  “One day you’re going to have to show me how you do that,” Jay said, rubbing his wrists.

  “Yes, she’s very industrious, as I previously noted.”

  Jay and Berg looked up, straight into Alexander’s gun.

  “Get up, slowly. Both of y
ou,” he said softly. “We wouldn’t want a weapon to accidently discharge in a space filled with so much oxygen and so many fragile little lives.”

  Jay and Berg stood immediately, both stepping in front of Jack’s crib.

  “Your weapon, darling daughter. Leave it on the floor.” Alexander stood straight, his gun level, despite a myriad of seeping wounds on his body. One of his white shirtsleeves was red with blood from Berg’s shot back at the house.

  Berg just wanted Alexander away from the baby.

  Jay must have wanted the same thing because, while his expression was thunderous and his hands shook, he made no move toward Alexander.

  The man finally took his focus off Jay and Berg long enough to work out his surroundings. “Is that my grandson?” He nodded toward the sleeping infant.

  Jay refused to answer, but Berg saw a vein in his temple throbbing with anger.

  “After nearly forty years of disappointment, it appears I finally have an heir.”

  “You stay the fuck away from my son,” Jay said, his voice so low and threatening it sounded more like a growl. “You killed his mother and you damn near killed him!”

  Alexander shook his head. “I knew you could save him if you both concentrated hard enough. I needed a significant distraction to prevent you both from stopping my escape.” He looked at baby Jack and grinned. “But now that he’s born, his rightful place is with me. Now, both of you, I want you to calmly walk toward the door and out into the hallway. Don’t try anything heroic. I’ll have my gun on you the whole time, not to mention my helper on the other side of this door is also armed. There will be plenty of innocent people caught in the crossfire should you try anything stupid.” He placed a folded pink cotton blanket over his arm and weapon. “Head to the fire escape.”

  The pair moved toward the NICU double doors. Berg opened one and walked through, with Jay right behind her. They stepped into the busy corridor slowly as doctors and nurses pushed past them, making their early morning rounds. The fire escape was the last door on the left. The group walked to it slowly. Her deranged father and his armed guard were about four feet behind them, their guns concealed—Alexander’s by the hospital blanket and the guard’s by his pocket.

  As they reached the door, Berg flicked a glance at Jay, who discreetly bobbed his head once, clenching his jaw. They slowed their strides, allowing Alexander and the guard to within a couple of paces of them.

  Jay spun and grabbed Alexander’s arm, pushing the gun toward the ceiling, just as Berg lashed out with a back kick that caught the guard in the stomach.

  She felt the wound in her thigh once again split open but ignored the searing pain as she heard the air rush out of his lungs. His gun lowered, and she followed it up with a kick to the guard’s face as he leaned forward, nursing his stomach.

  His nose made a cracking sound, and he clutched at it, blood leaking through his fingers, the gun forgotten.

  Berg struck out again with yet another kick, this one propelling the guard headfirst into the wall.

  Jay worked on getting the gun out of Alexander’s grasp as Berg kicked the guard behind the knees, forcing him to his hands and knees. One more side kick and Berg broke his neck.

  Alexander fired, trying to wrestle the gun away from Jay, the bullet hitting the stairwell door, before Jay punched him in the face and tore it away. He threw it to the ground and charged at Alexander.

  Berg rushed to pick both guns up off the ground. “Jay!” she yelled, holding open the stairwell door.

  Jay grabbed Alexander by the collar and the belt and threw him through the door.

  Alexander tried to stop his momentum but couldn’t, and he tumbled headlong down the seven concrete stairs to the landing.

  Jay and Berg followed him through the door.

  She raised Alexander’s gun and pointed it at him as he pulled himself up.

  “No,” Jay said, pushing the gun away roughly. “He’s mine.”

  Berg nodded—Jay was probably the only person on the planet who wanted Alexander dead as much as she did.

  Jay flew down the steps two at a time, his fists clenched, as Berg used the gun’s body to jam the fire escape door and stop the security that would no doubt come running after the gunshot.

  Jay used all his momentum and smashed Alexander in the jaw with a powerful right hook.

  The blow was considerable, but Alexander recovered, pulling his switchblade out of his belt and slashing wildly.

  Berg shouted a warning, but Jay was all over it, catching Alexander’s wrist, twisting it roughly until the knife clattered to the ground and Alexander was forced to face away from him.

  But Jay didn’t stop there, punching his right forearm through Alexander’s twisted arm while still holding his wrist, and breaking through his elbow joint.

  Alexander bellowed in pain.

  Jay hauled him up the wall by his collar and hit Alexander in the face again, and then again. “You kill my wife?” he screamed in his face. “You almost kill my son? You threaten my family? You hurt the woman I love?”

  Alexander hit Jay in the eye with his good arm, but Jay was so enraged he appeared to not even notice.

  Berg watched as fury transformed Jay from a nice guy, and cop, into a machine. He hit Alexander over and over again, smashing his nose and what looked like several teeth.

  Alexander slumped, and Jay let him fall, breathing heavily.

  Alexander spat out teeth and blood and laughed, spraying blood all over himself and floor. “You think you and your family will be safe while I’m in prison? One word from me and you’re all dead, including my one remaining bitch daughter.”

  Jay crouched down and leaned into Alexander’s face. “You’re not going to prison.”

  “You’re a cop. I’m not armed. You can’t—”

  “I was a cop! Thanks to you, I’m not anymore.”

  Shock registered on Alexander’s face as Jay grabbed the collar of his shirt and his belt once more and threw him into the metal stairwell railing, at least cracking a few ribs. Picking a limp Alexander up again, Jay heaved him over the edge of the rail and pushed him into the gaping stairwell.

  Alexander fell six stories and landed with a loud thud. Blood pooled on the concrete floor around his smashed skull.

  Jay collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving—whether from exertion or emotion, Berg couldn’t say.

  She removed the gun from the door and rushed down the stairs, huddling next to Jay on the ground and wrapping her arms around him. Which was exactly where Cheney, security, and some CPD uniforms found them a few minutes later.

  Epilogue

  Six months later . . .

  Berg looked up from her desk as Jay opened the frosted glass door embossed with neat lettering—RAYMOND O’LOUGHLIN INVESTIGATIONS. He had a coffee in each hand and what looked like several files under each arm.

  “Morning,” he said and grinned, handing her a large, black coffee.

  She smiled, her heart pounding at his proximity and as her fingers accidently brushed his as she took the coffee. “Morning, yourself. Thanks for this.”

  “You’re in early?” Jay asked through a yawn.

  Berg raised an eyebrow. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re swamped. Two insurance jobs, three private investigations for the purposes of divorce, and several other cases I can’t afford to think about right now because my head might explode. Tell me exactly what it is you do here again?”

  He laughed. “I keep our lead investigator on the straight and narrow, which is the most important job of all.” His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and then winked.

  She blushed and looked away.

  “Sorry you’re so busy, but this isn’t going to help,” he said, tossing a file on her desk.

  “What is it? Not another infidelity investigation?” She rolled her eyes.

  He snorted. “No. I had an early meeting with Captain Smith. It’s a rape case. A nasty one that’s gone cold. The guys at the precinct really w
ant to put someone away for this, but they don’t have the man hours. Smith asked for you personally and your, and I quote, ‘special skills.’ I told him you’d go above and beyond, as always. You can liaise with Arena on the details. That okay?”

  Berg smiled. “Of course. We’re getting police investigations now? That’s good. Guess they’ve forgiven us?”

  Jay nodded. “Yeah, Smith found some money in the budget for us. I think it’s a good sign of future work from them. The business may be young, but it’s going well.”

  “You’re okay working with the guys at the 12th? I mean . . . I know you miss it.”

  After Cheney had found them, bruised and bloody, in the stairwell, they had been separated and questioned for hours. After several days, it had been concluded that Jay had acted in self-defense in the killing of Alexander.

  The raid on the evidence storage facility had been a harder charge to dodge, but the CPD accepted Jay’s story when he had told them he’d been coerced by threats of violence to his wife. The CPD had either wanted to believe him, or the evidence had backed up his story, because the charges had been quietly dismissed.

  While they had suspected Berg in the murder of Judge Oliver and with blowing up the private airfield, there hadn’t been enough evidence for charges to be brought against her, and they’d never found the murder weapon.

  Jay had been secretly compiling evidence on Alexander during his undercover assignment, but the fact that he’d disappeared and fathered a child with the crime lord’s daughter had set tongues wagging so hard that even McClymont hadn’t been able to stop them. Jay had never been charged with anything more, but the speculation had essentially ended his career. Even if he had stayed in CPD, his forward motion up the career ladder was over.

  Jay shrugged. “I thought I would miss it, you know? But I really don’t.” He sat down and picked at the lid on his coffee cup, lost in thought. “It’s funny, I spent my life thinking I wanted to work my way up the CPD, but I was bored as captain. I really missed being out there, helping people, which is why I jumped at the opportunity to go undercover when it was offered. Now I’m doing what I love. I’m solving cases, helping people get justice. I’m right where I want to be.” He stared an extra beat before taking a sip of his coffee.