“Which ones?”
“Owen and his partner—Jordan, I think?”
“I know them. Good guys,” he muttered.
Why would a doctor know Owen and his partner by name?
“Who did you say you were again?” she asked. So far, every doctor and nurse had introduced themselves almost every time she’d seen them.
“Oh—sorry.” He patted his chest. “My badge walked off earlier. Damn thing.”
“I already saw the pulmonary doctor and the surgeon. How many more doctors do I need?”
“All of us, I’m afraid.” He pulled a syringe out. “I’m going to give you something for that pain. It’ll make you a little drowsy.”
“I’m not really in any pain.” She was, but that was the last thing she was going to admit to this guy.
“Yeah, but your anesthesia’s going to wear off soon. Doing our best to keep all the pain under control.” He inserted the needle into the port attached to her IV and started pushing the plunger.
But...the nurses had given her something not that long ago. Not even two hours. Why would he have anything else to add to it?
This wasn’t right.
She didn’t know why it wasn’t, just that it was wrong.
Taylor groped for the call button, but the man wrapped his hand around her wrist.
“Ian—”
The guy slapped his hand over her face. She pushed and kicked, but there wasn’t much fight left in her.
“Now, now, no need to be alarmed. It’s just a little something to help take the edge off.” He stared down at her.
That nose...
She knew that face.
Whatever he’d injected into her IV hit her blood stream and Taylor’s body went rigid as ice slid through her veins.
It hurt.
Oh—God.
That really hurt.
Her vision blurred.
She knew his face.
Where did she know his face from?
“It’ll all be over soon, Taylor,” he said.
Was he saying that now? No, he’d said that to her before.
Her mother.
He’d been there the last time she’d seen her mother. He’d opened the door for her. One of the two guys who hadn’t died.
Taylor tried to move her mouth, to shout, but she couldn’t. Her vision faded, and her lungs stopped working.
He was killing her, just like he’d killed her mother and she hadn’t told Ian how she felt.
25.
Ian stared at the pale, lifeless face of the woman he’d grown to love. The doctor’s words washed over him, the intricate explanation of her condition didn’t make sense. All he knew was that Taylor was in a coma, and no one knew why. Yet.
The apple they’d found on her bed sat on the tray next to her, half eaten.
Was it the food?
Something they’d given her?
What?
“It’s my fault.” Vito leaned forward covering his face with his hands. “I brought her the apple. I just thought...”
“It wasn’t the apple that did this,” the doctor said. “We’ll know more when the toxicology comes back. She’s stable for now and breathing mostly on her own again, so that’s good.”
Ian turned to stare out of the window.
At every turn, no matter what they did, something went wrong. It was like they were cursed.
The doctor kept talking, but it didn’t matter.
Taylor was in a coma and no one knew why.
It didn’t make sense.
The staff left Vito and Ian alone, watching Taylor struggle for each and every second of life she had left. What Ian wouldn’t give to make it better, to fight for her. If he could trade places with her, if he could do something—anything—he’d do it.
“What do we do?” Vito whispered.
Ian didn’t reply. He was out of answers, out of solutions, all he could do was sit and wait for Taylor to live or die. The doctors couldn’t help her until they knew what was wrong. It was all her at this point, and who knew what would happen?
Ian’s phone buzzed with a text from Owen.
Can I come up?
Ian replied back.
“Owen should have some news for us.” Ian set the phone down.
The one bright spot would be to hear that the feds were after Julia, that they had answers.
Within moments, Owen stepped through the door.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Stable. That’s all we know.” Ian leaned over to tuck her errant curls behind her ear.
“I’ve got some bad news.” Owen sighed and leaned against the wall. “The FBI guy, Franco? He said he can’t use the PDF scans of the documents that Zach and Tali made. He needs the originals and Taylor’s testimony to even get the ball rolling. But—here’s the good news—cops in New York got a warrant to search Julia’s house.”
“Tell them to check the walk-in freezer,” Vito said.
“Why? What’s in the freezer?” Owen pulled out his phone.
Vito simply shook his head, as if it were too horrible to speak of.
“Is there anything I can do for you guys?” Owen asked. “Everyone wants you to know they’re thinking about you.”
“A miracle?” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face.
It would take one to make everything right in their life.
“What do you mean, the plane can’t take off?” Julia sighed and drummed her fingers on the door.
“That stunt your people pulled has too many eyes on me,” the man on the other end of the phone said. She didn’t know his name, only that they had mutual friends in MS-13. This partnership had really worked to her benefit—until now.
“Come on. I’ve got an inside source with the FBI. He’ll pull strings if you just give the pilot the go-ahead.” Julia had been sitting outside the regional airport for over an hour, waiting on a confirmation they could get out of this place.
Things in Seattle were heating up.
“No can do, Julia.”
The line went dead.
She tossed the phone into the seat. It bounced into the lap of the man sitting next to her.
“You shouldn’t have mentioned me,” Franco said.
“I didn’t say your name,” she snapped.
“People are going to ask questions. You have to be careful.” Franco handed her phone back to her.
She still hadn’t read Ciro’s last text.
Crap.
She had to send someone to pick him up. He was going to be pissed, but she had enough things to juggle.
Julia hit dial. Maybe Ciro would have a contact with access to a plane, or even a boat, for all she cared.
“Finally calling me back?” Ciro said.
“Things got pretty hairy. Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up.”
“Don’t bother, I’m headed back to New York.”
“Ciro, it’s not safe there. The bosses are into something bad.”
“Yeah, I heard about the little war you tried to start. That wasn’t very smart, Julia.”
“You think you’re some kind of wise guy?” What she wouldn’t do to be able to wrap her hands around someone’s neck right now.
“I talked to Danny. He’s going to take care of me,” Ciro said with pride.
“Danny? Take care of you? Oh, that’s a joke.” She sighed to keep from screaming.
“Good bye, Julia. Have a nice life.”
Ciro hung up.
On her.
She stared at the screen, more than a little shocked.
That bastard. After everything she’d done for him, he was just another rat jumping ship?
She’d show him.
She’d get out of the country, go back to the old world. They had a better appreciation for people with her talents. Between what she could do and her connections with MS-13, she’d turn the families inside out. When she returned to New York, everyone would fear her.
Ian paced the room. The walls felt
like they were closing in. Nothing was happening, they just sat there, watching Taylor breathe. They should be able to do something. Anything.
“Didn’t the doctors say they’d have the blood work back by now?” Vito peered at the clock hanging on the wall.
“An hour ago,” Ian practically snarled the words.
“I’m calling the nurse. Someone’s got to know something.” Vito jabbed at the call button on Taylor’s bed.
Ian blocked out the chatter in favor of pacing.
He was good with problems. Give him an objective, a bad guy, something—and he’d take care of it. This? He was powerless and he hated it.
“Ian, you hear that?” Vito asked.
“What?”
“Doctor’s coming in.”
Right on cue, the door opened and not one, but three doctors and two other staff members entered. From the way their faces creased, the downturned lips, no one meeting his gaze...
This wasn’t good.
“What is it?” Ian asked. “Is she dying?”
The two doctors in the lead glanced at each other. The older one seemed to have drawn the short straw. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.
“Wow, did something happen?” Owen squeezed his way into the hospital room, a vase of flowers in hand.
“Taylor’s blood work is...” The doctor shook his head.
“There are drugs in her system that aren’t supposed to be there,” the second doctor said. He turned a clip board toward them and started rattling off names ten letters long.
“What does all of this mean?” Ian asked. Couldn’t they get to the point?
“There’s no way for these drugs to have gotten in her system with any of the medications she was prescribed,” the older doctor said. “Did anyone give her something? Does she have a history of drug abuse?”
“No,” Vito said without hesitation. “She’s always—no. Just—no.”
“Someone had to have given her these drugs.” The older doctor gestured to the paper. “These aren’t even recreational drugs.”
“So, you’re saying that someone gave her this stuff intentionally?” Owen asked.
“Maybe?”
“But she wasn’t alone. We were here the whole time,” Ian said.
“Except right before she crashed,” Owen said.
“You’d just pulled me out into the hall to talk.” Vito frowned.
“We need a uniform on this room at all hours.” Owen pulled out his phone. “I’d like to see the security cameras. We had to miss someone coming in or out of this room.”
“What can you do for her?” Ian asked as Owen stepped out into the hall.
“At this point, we’re still assessing her overall condition. These drugs...it’s like someone went into a pharmacy, took a little of everything and mixed it together. We have no idea what her reaction will be. Right now, we’re treating the symptoms as best we can.”
“Ian?” Owen stepped back into the room. “We need to get down to the security office right now.”
“You good here?” Ian asked Vito.
“I’m not leaving her side.” Despite being wheelchair-bound for the moment, Ian didn’t doubt Vito would tear someone limb from limb for Taylor.
“You hear anything, you call me, got it?” Ian slid past the doctors. He couldn’t make Taylor better, but he could track down the bastard who’d done this to her.
Owen and Ian crossed the hospital to the main security control room. A man with a shiny nametag labeling him the head of security met them at the door, his face grim.
“I found him,” the man said.
“I’m Detective King.” Owen shook the man’s hand. “Show us?”
“I had to go back through that chunk of footage five times before I realized this is your guy.” The head of security showed them to a couple of monitors frozen into position. “Here’s him going in and out of the patient’s room. He’s looking away from the cameras. He probably knew they were there. He wasn’t as careful on his way out. Over here, I was able to find him leaving the building. It’s a pretty clear shot of his face.”
No...
“I know that guy,” Ian blurted.
He leaned forward.
“Who is it?” Owen asked.
“That’s the fed, Franco Mancini.” Ian jabbed a finger at the screen.
“Are you serious?” Owen gaped at the screen then Ian.
“I spoke with him...days ago. He’s been my guy, the one I’ve been goin’ to with all this stuff.”
“I’ll call it in.” Owen pressed his phone to his face.
Ian pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit his speed dial.
“What have you gotten into now?” Zain sighed.
“I need you to track the number I’m about to call,” Ian said.
“I can’t do—”
“Bullshit, Zain. I know you can. I’m with a cop, we’re tryin’ to track a guy down before he either kills someone, or flees the country. And look into an FBI agent by the name of Franco Mancini.”
“Mancini... He was in that file you asked me to get the other week.”
“Wait—what?”
“The one about the Lucchese death? Yeah, he was one of the two surviving agents.”
“Yeah, well, he might have just killed Taylor. You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Trace the call, Zain.”
“I’m on it.”
“You got something?” Owen asked.
Ian hung up on Zain, who no doubt already had a lock on where they were at. He was that kind of technological badass.
“Yeah, I’ve got a trace runnin’ on his phone.” Ian listened to the line ring, and ring. He bobbed his knee, willing the guy on the other end of the line to pick up.
“Hello?” Franco said.
“Frank, hey, it’s Ian Kelly.”
“Ian, hey, what’s going on?”
“I wanted to call and touch base about Taylor Lucchese.”
“Yeah? Think you’ll get her to come in and talk to me?” Part of Franco’s voice was drowned out by the high-pitched whine of what sounded like a plane.
“Yeah, she says she wants to talk to you. Today. You think you’d have time?” Ian plucked a pen from the security desk and scribbled p-l-a-n-e on a notepad.
“Today? Really? Well, I guess I could squeeze her in. When?” Franco’s voice wavered and he didn’t sound excited about the prospect of talking to anyone.
Because he thought Taylor was already dead?
Ian’s phone beeped. He glanced at the screen.
“Hold on, let me ask her.” Ian muted the call.
Zain had an address.
Ian forwarded the text to Owen.
“Keep him on the line,” Owen whispered.
“Tryin’.”
Owen and Ian dashed out of the office toward the parking lot. Ian flicked the mute off, scrambling to think of something to tell Franco.
“We’ve got to get her discharged, she got a little banged up last night, you know?” Ian sank into the passenger seat of Owen’s car.
“I heard. How’s she doing?”
“Good. Good. Had a bit of a weird spell in there, but she’s on the mend now.”
“Glad to hear that. Say, you want to come to me? I’m off-site today, but I could squeeze you guys in, get the ball rolling faster.”
“That’d be great.”
Franco gave Ian a time and place.
The same place he was now.
Ian hung up and held onto the door as Owen executed a fast, ninety degree turn like some sort of stunt driving pro.
“I’ve got uniforms headed there now,” Owen said.
“How close are we?”
“Close, actually. We might beat them there.”
“Drive faster.”
“You’ve got to hang back and let me handle this, Ian.”
“Sure, sure.” He’d agree to just about anything if that meant getting the person responsible for Taylor’s coma in custody.
“You
think Julia’s with him?”
“He’s clearly workin’ for her. Taylor said she thought her mum’s death was a hit. It’d make sense, Julia wanted her out of the way. This guy was one of the two agents who survived. What do you want to bet it’s not coincidence?” Ian didn’t believe in coincidences.
Owen pushed the car to its limits weaving through traffic. It was often easy to forget that Owen wasn’t just a pleasant, do-gooding cop. That under the friendly smiles and easy demeanor, he was every bit as tough as the rest of them.
“This is the exit.” Ian pointed ahead of them.
Owen cut across traffic and drifted down to the intersection, turning right toward the signs advertising a small, regional airport. The radio announced that back-up was another ten minutes out.
“I’m not waiting,” Owen said to Ian.
Good, because Ian wasn’t waiting for anyone, either. He didn’t care how good of friends he was with Owen, nothing would stand in his way when it came to getting his hands on Franco. And maybe Julia if they were really lucky.
“I am so going to get my ass handed to me,” Owen muttered. “You recognize any of these cars?”
“No, keep goin’.” Ian leaned forward, peering at the parking lot and at the front of the airport.
“Are you carrying?” Owen asked.
“Yeah.”
“Ian,” Owen groaned.
“What?”
“You were in a hospital, man.”
“Clearly, we needed the protection.” Ian would never forgive himself for that.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t know that.”
“I don’t see them.” Ian resisted the urge to punch the dashboard.
“Okay, we’ll circle around. Maybe they pulled into one of those fast food places while they waited?”
26.
“What do you mean Taylor is still alive?” Julia stared into the eyes of the man next to her.
“I swear to you, I thought she was dead.” Franco held up his hands.
“Did you take her pulse? Was she stone cold when you left her?” Julia was screaming now. She was surrounded by people completely incapable of doing their jobs.
“No, I had to leave before she was gone, but she was dying. Right there. All the machines started going off.”
Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1) Page 24