His Target: The Downing Family Book 4

by Wild, Cassie

  For me.

  Up until I finally walked away, every time I’d screwed up, I’d expected my parents to be there to bail me out, despite my father’s warnings…sometimes you have to deal with your own messes, boy.

  I’d always sucked at doing that, and now here I was, more than a decade older, and still trying to figure out the right road to take.

  I had fucked up.

  Most of my adult life was centered around a simple motto… if I wasn’t caught, the trouble wasn’t mine.

  But that thinking, I’d come to realize, was a fallacy, in and of itself.

  If I’d caused the trouble, that meant, as a man, I had to own it.

  Like the trouble with Briar.

  I lay in the bed with her butt tucked in snug up against my crotch. There was no doubt that my baser urges wanted to take over, but for once, they were drowned out by a more responsible voice.

  Do you really just want to fuck her and pretend this will all go away?

  It was a confusing question.

  Because I absolutely did want to fuck her, and some selfish, arrogant part of me believed I could absolutely fuck the problem away.

  But the voice of that smug, arrogant bastard was getting quieter with every passing day.

  When I talked about fucking away a problem, I was fucking away my responsibility, and I knew it. Normally, it didn’t matter.

  But normal had gone the way of the dodo ever since meeting Briar.

  I knew I was a mess.

  Because of her, I wanted to be more.

  I told myself it was a crock. Briar’s family was mixed up in some of the worst shit—weapons smuggling.

  Drugs were bad, but usually, that only hurt the persons involved with the drugs and their immediate families.

  Weapons smuggling was a different creature. How many innocent kids, innocent teens died because of shit like illegal weapons?

  I had no idea, but it wasn’t a small number.

  The illegal weapons trade wasn’t exclusive to the Americas, either. Illegal weapons were purchased across the globe.

  I wanted to believe I had good ground to stand on. That no matter how innocent Briar seemed, it couldn’t be entirely real, and therefore, she was just one more in a line of guilty souls.

  I couldn’t quite manage it, though.

  I’d seen her crying over the death of a child. Over a woman who tried to leave a bad marriage, only to end up dead, thanks to her husband. And he’d done it with a gun he’d illegally obtained. I wasn’t a doctor or anything, but like a lot of people, I knew all about that Hippocratic Oath.

  Do no harm.

  Any family involved in weapons smuggling was doing a shitload of harm.

  I had one of two choices…either accept that Briar was a hypocrite or acknowledge her tears for what they seemed to be…real, valid grief.

  When I looked at her, I didn’t see a hypocrite.

  It left me with little choice but to question just how much she knew about her family’s business decisions.

  I had no idea how that was possible.

  Was it naivete? Some willful decision to not know?

  The Briar who had cried in my arms the other day after she’d been unable to save a toddler after he’d accidentally been shot by his five-year-old brother couldn’t be the kind of woman who’d turn a blind eye to the wrongs committed by her family.

  Sighing, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the night-dark ceiling. I willed my mind to shut down so I could sleep, but with little success. As Briar rolled into my body and curled against me, I closed my eyes.

  I could try to rationalize what I was doing all I wanted.

  But in the end, I was just making excuses, and I knew it. It did nothing to ease the guilt that kept me awake.

  The guilt was choking me.

  And it should be.

  I was just using her.

  * * *

  “Man, I bet you think you hit the mother lode.”

  I tensed at the sound of the voice and slowly looked to the right. My gaze landed on Jerrel as he came around the back of the van and propped a shoulder against it. Despite the lighthearted tone he’d used, his eyes were flat and hard, mouth unsmiling.

  “I’m not following,” I said.

  Jerrel shrugged and looked over at the house I’d just left. It was early. Briar was still sleeping. I’d had a restless night and wanted nothing more than a few blissful hours of sleep, although I knew it wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.

  Finding Jerrel here, just outside of Briar’s place, made my already lousy mood take an even darker turn.

  “You’re getting a nice sum of cash, a free place to live…using my van…and you’re fucking the pretty lady doc.” Jerrel shrugged. The motion pulled his t-shirt tight across his chest. “It’s a sweet deal you got going.”

  I shot a look over my shoulder at Briar’s house, then, with a jerk of my head, I started toward the sidewalk. It only took maybe twenty seconds for the house to be obscured, mostly by a towering hedge that ran between her house and her neighbor’s.

  Once I didn’t have to worry about Briar looking out her window and seeing us, I turned on Jerrel. “Do you have a point?”

  “Just airing some concerns,” he said with a taunting smile. “You’re not getting in too deep here, are you, MacTavish?”

  I most definitely was, but I wasn’t about to tell him so.

  A grin spread over his face at my silence. He nodded. “Thought so. Of course, I can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t mind being in deep with her.”

  The smirk on his face made it clear what he meant.

  “Watch it, Jerrel,” I said softly. “You’re treading on dangerous ground here.”

  “What ground would that be?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “All I did was mention that I can see the appeal of getting deep with Briar Downing. She’s a hot little—”

  He saw the punch coming, but he didn’t move in time. My fist slammed into his jaw. It felt like he had a face made of stone, but I relished the ache already settling in my fist.

  “You crazy son of a bitch,” Jerrel said, staggering back. He slapped a hand against the trunk of the tree nearest him and managed to stay upright. His eyes shone bright with fury as he took a step closer to me.

  A car drove by, and he immediately broke out in a wide smile as the driver slowed and gave us a cautious look. It wasn’t even seven in the morning, but there was plenty of traffic around us as people left their houses for work or to wait with their kids at nearby school bus stops.

  Still smiling at me, Jerrel said, “You’re going to pay for that, you dumb motherfucker.”

  “Stay away from Briar,” I told him. I didn’t bother with a smile, fake or otherwise. Turning my back on him, I started for the van. Over my shoulder, I tossed out, “You stay the fuck away from her.”

  Locking myself in the van, I closed my eyes and started to swear.

  I was pissed, but I couldn’t lie to myself well enough to convince myself that all of my anger was directed at Jerrel.

  I was the one who’d fucked up here.

  I’d broken my own rules and somehow found myself completely lost in the one girl I could never have.

  None of this shit was supposed to have happened.

  Nineteen

  Briar

  “You sure about this place?” Anneke asked as we approached the little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant.

  “It’s got some great reviews,” I told her. “And supposedly the freshest, hottest salsa in the city.”

  She glanced at the area around us, then shot me a worried look. “I don’t think that’s the only thing this area of town is known for.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it’s just fine.”

  Sure enough, when we got inside, the place was clean, albeit a little run down.

  A friendly, smiling Latina escorted us to a booth by one of the front windows and passed out menus. A few minutes later, we had chips and salsa in front o
f us, and I put in a request for some guacamole.

  I took one bite of the salsa. Delight exploded through my taste buds—spicy and fresh, indeed.

  Anneke made an appreciative noise in her throat as she tried it.

  “Told you,” I said, grinning at her.

  She laughed. “I don’t know why I ever doubt you, foodie queen.”

  Before long, we had both had our entrees in front of us, fajitas for Anneke and tacos for me.

  I winked at her as I scooped up the rest of the guacamole with a chip. “We have to come back here on a day when I’m not scheduled to go into work,” I said. “I bet their margaritas are to die for.”

  She nodded, mouth full of chicken, tortilla, and veggies.

  I glanced out the window at the sound of a honking horn. My eyes landed on a familiar form, and my heart started to race.

  Cormac.

  He walked directly into a tattoo shop across the street.

  A smile spread across my face. It was turning out to be a very good day.

  * * *

  “What are we doing?” Anneke asked as I led her across the street.

  Maybe ten minutes had passed since I’d seen Cormac go into the parlor across the street, and he hadn’t come back out. I had no idea if he was in there getting a tattoo or if he maybe worked there—he definitely had some ink on him, so either seemed a reasonable possibility. With a frown, I realized that I had never asked Cormac what he did for a living.

  I’d have to remedy that, although maybe later.

  “There’s a friend of mine in there…I saw him go in a few minutes ago. I want to say hi,” I told her.

  She gave the large plate glass window, tucked behind a protective cage of iron bars, a pensive frown. “You surprise me all the time, Briar. I wouldn’t have pegged you for knowing anybody who works in a tattoo parlor.”

  I pushed in through the door, a comment forming.

  But it faded at the sight in front of me.

  Cormac sat behind a counter, arms folded over his chest, eyes on the petite blonde who stood in front of him. Very close in front of him. For a second, nobody seemed to notice Anneke and me standing in the door, and my breath locked in my chest as the woman swayed ever close to him.

  Then Cormac’s gaze swung in our direction, away from her.

  I saw his eyes widen a fraction, surprise flickering in the soft brown depths.

  But even as I went to smile at him, a mask fell over his face. He turned toward us, straightening on the stool.

  “Um…hi,” I said, wiggling my fingers at him.

  “Briar.”

  His voice came out distant, remote. Still, I kept my smile in place as I approached the counter. “Hey,” I said. “I was eating with my friend, Anneke…” I gestured to the other woman without looking away from Cormac. “And I saw you come in here. I thought I’d come over and say hi.”

  Cormac slid a look from my face to Anneke’s. When he looked back at me, he offered a short nod. “Hi.”

  The distance in his voice finally managed to puncture my happy mood, and my smile fell away. Feeling awkward and out of place, I tried to figure out what to do.

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  I shifted my attention to the blonde who’d been talking to Cormac when we came in. I realized with a start that she looked familiar. “You were at the Halloween party.”

  “I always heard doctors were smart,” she said, curling her lip in a derisive smirk. “Now…about that appointment?”

  “I don’t have one,” I replied, taking a step back. “I just came in to say hi to Cormac.”

  I glanced at him, half expecting him to tell the woman to back off. He watched me from under his lashes, gaze hooded. And he stayed silent.

  “Well, isn’t that sweet?” the woman cooed, clasping her hands together in front of her. “But I hate to tell you…this isn’t social hour. We’re working, so if you’re not getting any ink…?”

  She looked me up and down, making it clear she didn’t see that happening.

  I flushed hotly red under her rapt attention, but the worst of it was the way Cormac just sat there, watching me with dispassionate eyes. He made no move to intervene.

  “Well, are you going to get a tattoo or not?” she demanded, clearly annoyed.

  I didn’t even look at her. My attention remained locked on Cormac. He could have been carved from stone, for all the emotion he displayed.

  I was frozen.

  Thankfully, Anneke seemed to realize it. She brushed a hand down my arm. “Don’t you need to be back to work soon, Briar?”

  “Yeah.” I barely managed to get the words past the knot lodged in my throat. I forced a smile, despite the chaos whirling in my head. “You’re right. I’ve gotten distracted. We better get going, or I’ll be late.”

  I tore my eyes away from Cormac, and without another second of hesitation, I turned back toward the door.

  Twenty

  Briar

  I was still stinging from Cormac’s casual rebuff that night.

  It had been a rebuff. Hadn’t it? I couldn’t see it any other way, could I? I brooded over it as I sat in the doctor’s lounge, poking at the frozen lasagna I’d brought for my lunch. I had no appetite but forced myself to eat half of it. That half now sat in my belly like a lead weight, and I hoped I wouldn’t hurl it up.

  The day had been going pretty damn well. I’d slept well, then had lunch with a friend.

  If I hadn’t seen Cormac, the day could have just gone on as it had been. I wished I hadn’t seen him, although, at the same time, I kept thinking that I’d seen a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and maybe that was for the best.

  Anneke had texted me earlier to ask if I was okay, and I’d lied, assuring her I was fine.

  I wasn’t fine, but I couldn’t really put my finger on how I did feel—mad, yeah. My feelings were definitely hurt, which I tried to tell myself was stupid. I barely knew the guy. How could he already have the ability to hurt me like this?

  Yet, he had hurt me. No amount of self-cajoling could change the fact.

  “Dr. Downing!”

  I looked up as one of the nurses pushed her head through the door. Her tone conveyed a sense of urgency that penetrated my veil of self-pity and recriminations. “What is it?”

  “Massive MVA on the interstate two miles away. We’ve got multiple injured en route. Dr. Wo said to find you and let you know we’ll need all hands on deck.” She disappeared back through the door.

  Dumping the rest of my uneaten lunch, I went to wash my hands.

  Although it only took a few minutes for me to toss the food and clean up, by the time I strode back into the ED, the quiet of the night had been completely shattered.

  Two different paramedic teams came rushing in through the door barely thirty seconds apart.

  Wo pointed me to the second team, and I approached, pulling a pair of gloves on. “What have we got?”

  “Possible pneumothorax,” the guy closest to me said. He gave me a quick look. “Patient is confused, keeps trying to take the oxygen off, and we’re having trouble keeping him adequately oxygenated. Keeps asking about his daughter.”

  The adrenaline kicked in as I started to examine the patient, barking out orders and demanding answers.

  It all served to drive my personal concerns to the back of my mind.

  * * *

  Hours later, I all but collapsed against my car as I dug the keys from my purse.

  Two of the victims involved in the multiple-car pile-up had died. Five cars and some twelve patients had been involved. Being the closest trauma hospital to the scene, almost all of the patients had been transported to the ED where I worked.

  I’d spent the night racing back and forth from one patient to the next, reading reports, tracking down specialists for urgent consults and providing treatment.

  I was positive I’d never seen so much blood or pain in my life.

  I found the keys, but as I pulled them out of my bag, I f
umbled, my hands tired and aching. The keys fell to the ground. Swearing, I bent to grab them, and half the shit in my bag followed suit, tumbling out, phone, makeup, spare change, my wallet.

  “Can I get a break?” I mumbled, crouching down to start gathering everything. I grabbed the phone last and checked to make sure it still worked. The case had served to protect it, and there didn’t look to be any damage. The screen lit up, and I noted that I’d missed several calls. Sighing, I used my fingerprint to unlock the phone and read my way down the list. Three phone calls and four texts, all from Brooks.

  It was seven in the morning, and I knew he’d probably be awake, but I was too damn tired to call him and try to pretend I was doing just fine. I climbed into the car and slumped in the seat for one brief moment.

  My phone buzzed again, alerting me to a call.

  With little surprise, I saw that it was Brooks. Without a qualm, I chose to ignore the call. But I had to give him something, or he’d worry. Worse, he might say something to Dad.

  I shot off a quick message.

  Crazy shift. Big car accident on expressway, was running all night. Will call you later. Love you.

  Twenty-One

  Cormac

  A clatter broke out, dragging me out of an alcohol-induced slumber.

  My head started to pound, courtesy of an alcohol-induced headache.

  Groaning, I rolled onto my belly and shoved my head under the pillow. It was about as flat and thin as a pancake, so it didn’t do much of anything when it came to blocking out the noise.

  Another hard, fast knock on the door had me jerking upright. “What in the hell do you want?” I shouted.

  A voice, muffled by the door, responded, but I couldn’t make out a single word.

  I shoved free of the tangle of sheets, half stumbling over my feet. I looked down and scowled when I saw that I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, boots and all.