Undercover M.D.

by Marie Ferrarella

  Terrance looked down at himself, as if confused, then brightened as he looked up. It was a game of cat and mouse now. “It’s not for me. Dr. Graywolf had a patient throw up on him.” Again, he moved past Juarez. Behind the security guard, he could see Harris looking at them, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “I said I’d come down and get him a change of clothes. The smell’s awful.”

  “These are just linens and towels,” Juarez informed him. The jovial note was forced. “Uniforms are already in the closets. Why don’t you try—”

  But Terrance hadn’t budged. “You sure?” He looked down into the basket, moving aside the piles.

  “You’re messing things up, Doc,” Juarez warned. His hand went to his gun. The message was clear.

  Harris came to life. “Take it easy, Juarez.” He licked his lips nervously, looking from one man to the other. “It’s only McCall, my drinking buddy, right?” He looked at Terrance hopefully. “Fresh uniforms have already been taken upstairs, like he said, McCall.”

  Harris was set to go off at any second, Terrance thought. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Riley was ready.

  “You know a lot about laundry for a doctor, Harris,” he said easily. Terrance suddenly pulled back a pile of sheets. Small plastic packages of white powder were neatly nestled below. “What’s that?” Terrance raised his eyes to Juarez. “Talcum powder?”

  Juarez didn’t wait any longer to pull his security gun and aimed it at Terrance. There was sweat on his upper lip. “I told you to back off, Doc. Now you’ve made things complicated.”

  Harris hadn’t bargained on anyone getting hurt. Afraid, he attempted to intervene. “I told you, he’s all right.”

  Juarez suddenly made a connection. “You told him?” he cried. With a quick motion, he turned and aimed his gun at Harris. “You freakin’ bastard! You sold us out!”

  “No, no, I’d never do that!” Harris cried like a stuck pig.

  The shot meant for Harris went wild as Riley grabbed his arm, pushing it upward.

  Yelping like a wounded, frightened animal, Harris pushed the wagon into the other three men and ran into the bowels of the hospital.

  Springing to his feet first, Juarez released a barrage of foul language as he fired at Riley. Terrance dove into his partner, knocking him out of the way, but it was too late. Hit, Riley went down.

  “You son of a bitch!” Terrance shouted, shooting at Juarez’s knee. The latter screamed and went down, his gun flying out of his hand as he clutched his knee.

  The men just entering the basement quickly scattered, letting go of the basket they’d been pushing. Picking up speed, it came crashing down on Juarez, laundry mingling with white plastic packages. Terrance knew that the DEA posted outside would quickly converge on the fleeing workers.

  His weapon trained on Juarez, Terrance called for backup as he hurried to Riley.

  “Officer down, officer down. Seal off all the exits.” He dropped to his knees beside his partner. The latter was pale and still, his eyes closed.

  Like a delayed echo, it suddenly occurred to Terrance that there was no blood. He shook Riley’s shoulder, trying to get him to come around.

  “How bad is it?”

  Opening his eyes, Riley groaned, trying to catch his breath.

  “Like a mule just kicked me in the chest,” he said weakly. Riley felt around the area, amazed at the pain. More amazed to be alive. “They don’t tell you about that part.”

  Wanting to assure himself, Terrance ripped open his partner’s shirt. The three bullets had sunken into his vest. Terrance blew out a breath of relief. “Damn, I could kiss you.”

  Groggily drawing himself up into a sitting position, Riley laughed, pushing his partner back. “Save it for your girlfriend.”

  Alix.

  Harris was still loose. There was no telling what the man was capable of, now that everything was coming down on him. Terrance was on his feet instantly. “You okay to leave alone?”

  Riley already had his spare weapon in his hand, the muzzle aimed at Juarez, who was cursing at them and bleeding badly. “I’ve been on dates before, McCall, no need to chaperone me. Go after Harris.”

  Terrance was already running down the corridor. Harris had a two-minute start on him. There was a sinking feeling in his chest—Harris was completely unpredictable, a loose cannon. There was no telling what he would do next, now that he thought he was going to be sent to prison.

  Impatience ate away at Alix as she left the doctor’s lounge. Harris wasn’t there. She’d paged him, but had gotten no response. Time was getting short. Her shift in the E.R. began in a few minutes. It looked as if she was going to have to delay talking to Harris until later.

  Maybe in that time, the problem—whatever it was—would resolve itself. But she doubted it.

  Just as she turned a corner, she saw the fire door leading to the stairs fly open. Harris came rushing out. Even from this distance, he looked crazed, frightened.

  Alix’s first thought was of Terrance. Had something happened to him? She ran toward Harris.

  “William, what’s wrong?” she called out.

  He spun around, looking for all the world like prey searching for somewhere to hide. Recognition came after a beat. The uneasiness she felt gave way to concern.

  “Are you all right?” she asked as she reached him.

  Instead of answering her, he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back as he yanked her to him.

  His fevered brain desperately tried to think of a course of action. A hostage, he needed a hostage. If he had someone, they couldn’t shoot him.

  She tried to twist out of his grasp, but he yanked harder. Pain shot up her arm. “William, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Shut up,” he cried, his voice cracking with fear. “You’re going to get me out of here.”

  Seeing a door, he pushed his way in. It was an out-patient lab, one of two located on the first floor. Several people sat in the chairs that lined the walls. A daytime talk-show host droned on, on the television screen just above their heads.

  The instant Harris burst in, dragging Alix with him, the atmosphere changed to one of fear.

  “Everybody out!” he screamed, waving his hand to the door.

  It was then that she realized he was holding a gun.

  Chapter 15

  Harris tightened his fingers around the gun he’d picked up just before he’d run down the corridor—the gun that had flown out of the orderly’s hand when Juarez had shot him. Except the man hadn’t been an orderly, he’d been a cop. Like that scum McCall was a cop.

  Harris felt hysteria building within him.

  Nobody was who they were supposed to be anymore.

  “I said, get out!” he screamed, waving his gun menacingly at the cowering patients.

  It was as if a dam had broken. Frightened, the patients scrambled for the door, pushing their way into the corridor.

  Alix clenched her teeth to keep from crying out from the pain in her arm and shoulder. “William, what is going on here?” she demanded. “Why are you waving that gun around?”

  There was pounding in his head, making it hard to think. He’d come in, hungover and afraid, in no condition to handle what was going down. He lived in fear of these people he was forced to deal with. And then, just when it looked as if it was going to be all right, all hell had broken loose.

  He couldn’t make any sense of his thoughts.

  “Shut up. Shut up!” he ordered, his voice nearly breaking. “I have to think.” His eyes darted back and forth in the room, making sure there wasn’t someone lying in wait for him, waiting to bring him down.

  He jumped when the phone inside the lab rang.

  Harris pushed Alix around to the back of the desk. “Answer it!”

  Alix picked up the receiver with both hands, her eyes never leaving the gun that Harris was brandishing nervously. In his condition the weapon could go off at any moment.

  “Hello?” She he
ard a woman’s voice on the other end, asking about the lab’s hours. Her mind went blank. “The lab is closed right now. Call back later.”

  Alix dropped the receiver into the cradle, only to have the phone ring again the second it made contact. Damn it, didn’t the woman understand English?

  Her throat dry, Alix yanked up the receiver again. “I’m sorry, but—” She stopped as she heard the voice on the other end. She could have cried. “Terrance? Terrance, what’s going on here? Why is William waving a gun at me? What’s happening?”

  The people fleeing the laboratory, shouting something about a terrorist invasion, had run straight for the front of the hospital. And right past Terrance. He had caught one of them, a terrified woman of about forty, and asked her what was going on. She’d told him that a man with a gun had dragged a woman into the lab and then thrown them all out. When he asked if the man had on a lab coat, she’d said yes. Harris.

  His gut had told him that Alix was the woman taken hostage.

  Terrance had had the switchboard put him through to the lab. “Don’t panic, Alix, we’ll get you out of there.”

  Nerves clawed at her. She struggled not to give way. “Talk to me,” she demanded. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Harris grabbed the receiver away from her, motioning her back with his gun. “That’s enough. I’m in charge,” he informed Terrance.

  “You’re the man with the gun,” Terrance replied, his voice level and calming. “Let me come in, Harris. I’ll be your hostage. Let Alix go. A DEA agent is more valuable to them than a doctor.”

  Harris shifted from foot to foot, indecision gnawing at him. Then he thought of the rumors he’d heard about Alix and McCall. “No. As long as I have her, you’ll do what I want.”

  You hurt her, I’ll kill you with my bare hands. It wasn’t easy for Terrance to keep his voice calm. “It’s not up to me, Harris.”

  “Make it up to you.”

  He had to get inside the room. “Only chance I have is to come inside to talk. Otherwise, I can’t promise anything.”

  Harris rocked nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. He wanted a drink. He wanted some of the shipment that had just come in. Most of all he wanted to be somewhere else where nothing could pressure him like this. “All right, all right, you can come in. But leave your gun outside.”

  Terrance kept his sigh of relief in check. “Whatever you say.”

  Standing before the glass door, Terrance made a show of placing his weapon on the floor in front of him. He straightened, then began walking toward the lab, his hands raised.

  Harris watched, a sense of power seeping into him. He still held Alix in front of him, his hands tangled in her hair now, to keep her from moving. But even as he waited, his gun was shaking as he held it on Terrance.

  The moment the door opened, Harris took several steps back, dragging Alix with him. The small sound of pain that escaped her was involuntary.

  Terrance had to contain himself not to leap for the man’s throat. He couldn’t take a chance on the gun going off and hurting Alix. He talked to the other man the way he would to a misguided child.

  “You don’t want to do this, Harris.”

  The rage was immediate, filling his eyes, his body, his voice. “How would you know? How would you know what I want to do?” Harris waved the gun at a nebulous audience beyond the door. “How would any of you know anything about me? Do you have any idea what it’s like, never being good enough? Of always being measured by what your father and your grandfather did before you were even born?” His voice cracked before it descended into mimicry. “‘You’re a disgrace, William.’ ‘Why can’t you do anything right, William?’ ‘You’re such a disappointment, William.’” He was seething now as he remembered so many slights he’d been forced to endure. “According to them, I haven’t been able to do a thing right from the day I was born!” he shouted. And then his voice dissolved into a whimper. “Nobody has ever, ever let me live my life the way I want to.”

  Terrance had to keep Harris talking, to distract him until he could get hold of his gun. His hands still raised, Terrance slowly inched closer.

  “Nobody told you to gamble your money away and get into debt with loan sharks and drug lords. Put the gun down, Harris. Please. I can help you. There’re DEA agents all around the hospital.” He could feel Alix staring at him. “Don’t make this any worse than it is.”

  His words only seemed to enrage Harris. “You bastard!” he sobbed.

  Alix stiffened. Harris was going to shoot Terrance, she could feel it. The moment he moved, she grabbed his hand, pushing it with all her might.

  “No!” she screamed, throwing all her weight against him.

  The bullet went into the ceiling at the same time she felt her hair being ripped out by the roots. She screamed again, this time in sheer pain.

  The next thing she knew, Terrance had shot Harris in the shoulder with a weapon that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The man went down, she fell on top, her hair still tangled up in his hand.

  And then Terrance was beside her, freeing her from Harris’s grasp. His hands on her shoulders, he brought her up to her feet. “Are you all right?”

  Tears of pain were in her eyes. Getting hold of herself, she nodded.

  “I’m fine,” she breathed, her heart pounding.

  But she wasn’t.

  Not yet, not until she knew what was going on.

  The next moment the room was alive with people she didn’t recognize, crowding into the room, all talking at once. Men with body armor and helmets. And assault rifles.

  She looked at Terrance. He looked vastly under-dressed in comparison.

  And he had been the one to come in first.

  To save her.

  She realized she was shaking, and hugged herself to try to stop.

  “Take him down to the office,” Terrance was ordering a man who came in behind him. Then he turned to Alix, his face lined with concern. He ran his hands up and down her arms to assure himself that there were no overlooked wounds. There were no damp stains forming, no wetness to bear witness to any blood flowing.

  He looked into her face. If anything had happened to her…

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Numbly she nodded, watching as Harris was led off in handcuffs, sobbing.

  Alix stood back out of the way, as more and more people came into the small room. They were gathering around Terrance, saying things, asking questions, waiting for orders.

  He looked like a field general, not a doctor.

  His last set of instructions fading in the air, Terrance looked over his shoulder at Alix. He couldn’t fathom the expression on her face. It wasn’t shock. He’d seen shock before and this wasn’t it.

  It was distance, he realized. That was what was on her face. Distance. The kind of unfathomable distance that occurred between a man and a woman when there was no middle ground.

  “McCall—”

  Terrance waved back the man, hardly sparing him a look. The bust had gone down, and he needed to put his life together.

  “Give us a minute. Wait for me outside,” he instructed his subordinate. With that, he ushered out the last of them and then turned back to Alix. Waiting.

  She looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. Because maybe she hadn’t. “So this was what you couldn’t tell me.” Her voice was dead, emotionless. “You’re not a doctor.”

  It wasn’t strictly true. He had his degree. But they weren’t nit-picking here.

  “Not a practicing one, no.” He tried to head off what he knew was coming. “I couldn’t tell you who I was or what I was doing because there were lives at stake.”

  She stared at him incredulously. What had been going through his head? “And you thought, what? That I’d sell the story to a tabloid? That I’d go running to Harris and tell him everything in exchange for the honor of becoming his gun moll?”

  She made it sound ridiculous, but there had been legitimat
e reasons behind his actions. “I couldn’t take a chance that you might let something slip.”

  She laced her hands together and stared down at them. “And risk your life.”

  He would have gladly put his own life in her hands. But he hadn’t the right to do that with anyone else. “It was other lives I was worried about.”

  Her head shot up. Did he think so little of her? He could have no idea how much that hurt.

  “I would never, ever do anything to put lives at risk.” She blew out a shaky breath. “But I guess you don’t know that because you don’t know me. Don’t trust me.”

  He tried to reach for her. “Alix—”

  She jerked away. She couldn’t bare to have him touch her right now. “I think you’d better go now, Agent McCall or whatever it is you call yourself.” She waved her hand in the air, frustrated and lacking words. “You’ve got prisoners to book or tie up.”

  “We—”

  The look she gave him was dismissive. “I really don’t care.”

  With that, she turned away and walked out the door. Ignoring questions that rose up around her, ignoring the people who attempted to swarm about her, she walked quickly toward the E.R. Toward her job and what she knew and understood.

  Terrance watched her go, fighting the inclination to go after her.

  But she was right, there was a job to do, and he had to attend to it. Besides, he had a feeling that she would rather see his head on a platter than talk to him right now.

  She tried to bury herself in her work. That night she tried to distract herself by playing games with Julie. But her mind kept straying, wouldn’t focus. Julie took her to task several times for drifting off as only a precocious two-year-old could.

  She’d finally given up, bathed her daughter and put her to bed. She continued reading to her long after Julie had fallen asleep.

  Nothing helped.

  She just had to face up to it. There was no place in the universe for her tonight or tomorrow or the day after that. But eventually, she promised herself fiercely, it would get better.

  It had to, because she didn’t think it could get much worse.