Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Melody S. Monroe

  “Thank you.”

  Harrison placed a hand on Stone’s shoulder. “I hope he makes it.” All rancor was gone.

  Stone nodded.

  “When he’s strong enough, see what he knows about this mess.”

  So much for the true sympathy. “Will do.”

  Harrison’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” He stepped into the hall.

  Tom leaned over. “So what did the doctor say about Susan? Was she injured in any other way?”

  “Besides the obvious few bruises, there was no assault. They’re running a tox screen on her now. If I can believe James, she was exposed to the cold for some time. She might have some permanent damage as a result, but we can’t tell until she comes to.”

  He didn’t want to talk about Susan being naked and tied up. His blood pressure jumped thinking about the person who’d harmed her.

  Harrison strode in. “Some good news. We got a warrant for James’ house. When the team arrived, the housekeeper was taking care of two children. They were Richard’s kids. No Caravello, though.”

  Tom leaned back in the chair. “That’s great. Now we need to find the bastard who took them.”

  “We’re looking.” Harrison motioned with his hand for Tom to come. “We’ve got some investigating to do, and I’ll need your help, Tom, to check out a few things.”

  Tom squeezed Stone’s shoulder on the way out. Once they left, he closed his eyes and gave into the exhaustion. He awoke with a start when his stomach grumbled. His mouth dry, he pushed back his chair. He needed food and a drink.

  He’d shuffled half-way to the door when he thought heard a groan. He spun around. Susan’s fingers were moving like she was typing, and rapid eye movement under her lids made him believe she was coming to. He’d seen the signs before. Adrenaline pumping, he jetted back to the chair.

  Visions of how they met returned. “Squeeze my hand, Susan.”

  He swore she did. Faint, quick, but there.

  “That’s good. Now open your eyes.”

  He wanted to pry them open, wanted her to see him, talk to him. She emitted small guttural sounds but couldn’t seem to rouse herself.

  “Susan.”

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead, her cheek, her soft lips. Her lids fluttered and his heart nearly stilled.

  Her tongue peeked out of her lips. He sat up, grabbed the cup of half melted ice and pushed the button to elevate her bed. He held the cup to her lips as he squeezed her hand for reassurance. “Drink. Please.”

  Her mouth opened and a sliver disappeared. She coughed and her eyes flew open.

  He’d never been so happy to see anyone wake up. “Hi.”

  She blinked several times. “Stone?”

  “That’s me.” He grinned, then laughed. He would have danced, but he didn’t want to let go of her hand.

  She licked her lips, not to tempt him he was sure, but to wet her mouth enough to talk. “How did I get…here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “What happened to James? He saved me.”

  His fingers tightened their hold. “What do you mean? The bastard kidnapped you.”

  “Not him. He was so nice. He found me in the shed. I was so cold. The next thing I remember, I was in a warm, comfy bed. Then over breakfast, he told me Peter took me.” She licked her lips again and took a sip of water.

  A bed? Over breakfast? How had she gotten into her current state then? “Peter didn’t take you. Did you actually see him?”

  She closed her eyes, and he thought he’d lost her for a moment. Her lids half opened. “No. That’s what James told me happened. Before I finished eating breakfast James had prepared, a masked man came into his house. He struck James, then jabbed me in the neck with a needle before I could even get off the stool.” Her gaze traced the ceiling. “Next thing I remember was waking up and seeing you.” Her trembling lips quivered.

  The pain and torment Susan had gone through was enough to send the sanest person over the edge. He wanted to protect her for life, but his actions never seemed to be enough. Maybe he should quit the Bureau.

  God, he wanted get this bastard, or bastards. There was no doubt in his mind that James had orchestrated the whole masked man thing. The needle to the neck was too coincidental. The action smacked of Joseph Caravello.

  He kissed her hand. “I’m sorry. I should have done something. If I’d just winged Dominick, you might not have been kidnapped in the first place.”

  “Shh. This is not your fault. I insisted on going into the warehouse alone.”

  True. “Remind me not to let you out of my sight. James is still out there.”

  “You really think James is behind this?”

  He told her what happened at Peter’s house.

  “I can’t believe I fell for it.”

  “You’d been traumatized. It’s not your fault.”

  Her mouth opened for a second, then closed. She’d fallen asleep, and he hadn’t told her how much he loved her.

  “Agent Watson?”

  He turned. Peter’s nurse held up a hand.

  “Yes?”

  “You wanted to know when Mr. Caravello awoke.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took another glance at Susan. She needed the rest. He wouldn’t be long.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Susan opened her eyes and was disappointed Stone was not yet back from visiting Peter. She missed his calm, his encouragement, his safety. Her lids drooped. She fought falling asleep again and needed something to prop open her eyes. Whatever pain meds they’d given her was causing fatigue to grab hold. She gave in and closed her eyes. Better. To test her body’s rate of healing, she wiggled her toes. They were still cold, but the rest of her body felt warm. Maybe she’d recover after all.

  Footsteps sounded on the tile floor. She lifted her lids part way and spotted a white doctor’s coat. Dr. Dalton? Had he heard she’d come to? She raised her gaze to meet…James.

  Bile flooded her stomach. She closed her eyes and gaped open her mouth to keep him from knowing she was awake. Forcing her muscles to relax took all her concentration, but if she tried to do battle with him, she’d lose.

  The footsteps stopped. His fruity scent filled her nostrils. His raspy breath told him he was near her heart monitor. He must be looking down at her, trying to judge if she was still out of it. Would he see her heart beating frantically in her chest?

  “Goodbye, Susan.” His voice came out a whisper.

  The deadly words nearly stopped her heart. She couldn’t die. Wouldn’t die. Not without holding Stone one more time. Summoning up every ounce of reserve energy, she forced open her eyes. Blood beat against her skull. James’ back was turned. In his hand was a syringe he was trying to put into her IV.

  Dear God, no.

  She sucked in a large breath, lifted both legs and swung them sideways. While she met with resistance from the tucked sheet, she was able to knock against his hard body. The blow was enough to make him drop the needle.

  He spun around. “You bitch.”

  From the quick widening of his eyes, he hadn’t expected her to wake up. As he stooped to pick up the fallen needle, she tried to scream, but all that came out was a weak “eek.” She had to move, had to get to the closed door. Stone said an officer was stationed outside. Where the hell was he?

  She ripped the IV needle out of her arm and grimaced from the sharp stabbing. The light sheet was easy to slip off, but by the time she maneuvered her legs to the side of the bed, James was on top of her. His hand wrapped around her throat, his thumb cutting off her air. She couldn’t breathe.

  He pinned her legs with his knees while he grabbed one arm over her head with his free hand. She punched his hard shoulder with the arm he hadn’t secured. She’d wanted to scratch his face and claw at his eyes but couldn’t quite reach. She drew her arm back for another attack. He tilted her head back and her swipe missed.

  Air. She needed air. Black dots floated across her eyes. Light-headed, she
couldn’t fight him much longer. She flexed her leg to lift it, but his heavy weight held her down. She wanted to yell, wanted to live, wanted to tell Stone she loved him. Her brain fogged, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

  * * * *

  Peter told Stone he’d been too groggy from the anesthesia to be of much help. All he remembered was that James had forced him to make the phone call to Stone that morning. He told Stone how two men had beaten him unconscious while James watched.

  Stone’s patience was nearing the end. James had stepped over the line. He leaned forward in the chair. “I knew something was off. You never would have hung up on me.”

  “You’re right. James had Maria. He made me call.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve got…to…find her.” Each word seemed to exhaust his friend further.

  He didn’t need to give Peter any more stress. “We’re trying to find her now. Rest. I’ll be back.”

  “Sto…” And then he was asleep, blowing puffs of air into the room.

  Stone took the elevator down two floors. He slipped his arm out of the sling and tested the movement. Stiff, but not bad.

  He got off the elevator and glanced down the hall. His pulse raced. There was no cop in front of Susan’s door. Just an empty chair. Where the hell was he? Stone sprinted down the hall, narrowly missing an elderly woman holding onto her portable IV stand.

  “Excuse me,” he yelled over his shoulder after he nearly collided with her.

  A nurse shouted from the desk. “Sir?”

  Susan’s door was closed. His throat was dry and the blood beat against the back of his head. He moved his legs as fast as they would take him, but he needed to limp to reach her.

  He twisted the knob. Thank God the door wasn’t locked. He burst into the room, his breath ragged, the fear nearly crippling him.

  Had it not been for the bed bouncing and the man’s shoulders moving up and down, he would have stilled. For a second, he thought the man wearing the white coat was the man was giving Susan CPR, but the moment the man moved to the right, he knew he was wrong. Dead wrong.

  “Hey.”

  James spun around, his eyes wide. Then smiled. “I see we meet again.”

  Stone’s weapon was in his room, not here. Shit. James let go of Susan, whipped back his coat and pulled his semiautomatic from his side holster.

  Susan made terrible choking sounds. His gut nearly exploded. Adrenaline fueled him. The small room provided little room to maneuver, but given Stone was within three feet of James, he kicked his leg outward and smashed James’ arm. Damn gun didn’t dislodge.

  James laughed as he swung his weapon back at Stone. “You don’t have any spray now, do you?”

  Instead of answering, Stone launched himself at James. In the tight confines of the room, there was no place for James to fall but on the bed. The wheels screeched and the cot moved backwards, crashing into the IV stand and sending the metal monster to the ground.

  Susan screamed. Stone wrestled for the gun. James tugged Stone’s arms downward, and the weapon wedged between them. Stone’s left arm lost strength, but he managed to get his knee up between them.

  The semiautomatic went off. Both he and James didn’t move, his heart catching in mid-beat. Footsteps rushed behind them. Someone pulled him off James. Blood shot out near James’ groin.

  “Let me through,” a male shouted from behind.

  Stunned, Stone moved aside. His gaze shot to Susan. She was rubbing her throat. Her face blotchy and her breaths rapid, she shook all over. He wanted to comfort her, rush to her, but the man’s grip held tight.

  “Get her some help.” Stone nodded toward Susan.

  The next few minutes were a blur. Two nurses insisted he come with them. A young woman wheeled in a gurney.

  “I need to stay with Susan.”

  The nurses didn’t seem to care what he wanted. “You’re bleeding, sir. We need to patch you up.”

  Had he been shot?

  A wheelchair appeared under his butt a moment later. Whoever pushed him must have driven at the Indy 500. He arrived at a small room where the nurse instructed him to wait until the doctor arrived. So he waited. And waited. The air-conditioning clicked on and chills crawled up and down his spine. Blood trickled down his arm where his previous injury had reopened.

  He debated racing out of there to check on Susan, but the warden outside the door would probably object. He used some gauze pads on one of the counters to stem the flow of blood.

  Needing to find out how she was doing, he was halfway to the door when he staggered and saw white. This can’t be happening. Not now. He leaned against the padded examination table as the door opened.

  “Please lie down, Agent Watson.” A doctor, dressed in a green surgical uniform, frowned.

  The kid didn’t look older than twenty, but Stone obliged. He let the man clean and suture his wound again. Even though the doc had given him a topical anesthetic, the pricking irritated him.

  Stone tapped the fingers of the uninjured arm. “Do you know how Ms. Chapman is?”

  “No. Don’t move.”

  Instead of issuing a complaint, he followed orders. The man took forever.

  “All done. Don’t get in any more fights.”

  Stone sat up and winced. “I don’t plan on taking up wrestling any time soon.”

  “The nurse will be in shortly to give you instructions.”

  He’d been through this routine once already. As soon as the doctor left the room, he snuck out. He had to find the woman he loved.

  First stop, the registration desk. The attendant sent him to the wrong place, but after a few more inquiries he found Susan. The policeman who’d abandoned his position at Susan’s room was back.

  The guard stopped him as Stone tried to get past. “You can’t go in. Only doctors and nurses allowed.”

  “Then how did that killer get to her before? He wasn’t any doctor.”

  The man’s eyes widened.” I’m sorry about that, but I checked his ID and all seemed in order.”

  “Well, check this ID.” Stone pulled his badge from his pocket.

  He didn’t wait for the man to answer and strode in. Susan looked up and smiled. His heart beat fast against his chest. He loved her, pure and simple.

  “Stone.”

  The sweetest sound he could imagine. He stepped toward her. The nurses attending her blocked his path. She turned around. “Sir, can you come back later?”

  From the way her upper lip rose, Susan didn’t need him to watch. “Sure. I’ll be in room 304.”

  “I’ll call you,” Susan said.

  As he stepped outside, he faced the cop. “Don’t let anyone but Dr. Dalton in there. Okay? Especially an Italian man with gray hair, in his early sixties. He’ll be dressed in a very expensive suit. He wants to kill her.”

  The cop’s mouth dropped open. “Yes, sir.”

  Stone went to his room to retrieve his phone. He dialed Harrison’s number.

  “Lowry.”

  “It’s Stone. Anything on Maria?”

  “Tom identified Francisco’s real estate holdings as well as those owned by Caravello. I’ve sent my men to all three locations. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  “Thanks.” Stone clipped the phone on his waistband and headed to Peter’s room.

  His friend was still asleep when he arrived. Needles and tubes were attached to his arms and nose, and the monitors showed his vitals were stable.

  As he turned to leave, he came face-to-face with Joseph Francisco.

  Chapter Thirty

  His pulse shot up. Stone had no gun, no mace, and a bum arm. Francisco would have come armed. All Stone had was surprise on his side. The glint of a knife clutched in Francisco’s hand caught his attention. He wouldn’t get in the way of the blade this time.

  Go.

  Attack.

  Now.

  With his shoulder, Stone plowed into the man, sending both of them sprawling onto the hallway floor. Fran
cisco’s head slammed against the tile floor, and he let out a curse.

  Fury unleashed every pound of Stone’s energy. He pummeled his fist into the man’s face for Susan, for Peter, for orchestrating the jurors’ deaths.

  Blood spurted from Francisco’s nose. The old man didn’t fight back, couldn’t fight back. One arm was pinned beneath his body, the other flaying against Stone’s good arm. Stone wouldn’t let up until Francisco passed out.

  Two sets of strong arms dragged him off the killer.

  “Stop fighting us.”

  When Stone saw the old man wasn’t going to get up and do battle, he relaxed. “Okay. I’m good.” He shrugged off their hold and stepped back.

  Francisco’s eyes went wild, darting right, then left. Stone expected the old man to jump up and come at him again, but he lay there, still as death. Stone hadn’t hit him that hard.

  The two orderlies called for a gurney. In his humble opinion, the bastard didn’t deserve to be patched up.

  Stone faced one of the men. “Don’t let him out of your sight. He’s wanted by the FBI for the murder of at least five people.”

  Joseph grunted something about not killing anyone. Right. Instructing his son to do the actual deed was the same as putting the knife in an innocent man’s chest himself.

  Stone fumbled in his pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. He must have lost it in the fight. He didn’t have time to search for it, so he stumbled over to the nurses’ station. All eyes were on him.

  “Need a phone.”

  The nurse’s wide eyes told him he must look bad. He didn’t remember getting hurt.

  “Here you go, sir.” She handed him the phone.

  He called Harrison.

  “Yeah?”

  “Joseph Caravello came to Peter’s room with a knife. I happen to be there instead.”

  “You shitting me?”

  “I wish I were. I gave him a bloody nose though. That’s all. Come pick up the scum.”

  “On my way. And Stone?”

  He leaned against the counter. The adrenaline rush was losing steam and the aches and pains were getting to him. “What?”