“You mean you haven’t spoken to him today?”
“No, not at all.”
“Oh,” Sawyer said, in what sounded oddly like a sigh of relief. “Yeah, my firm put him up at the Renaissance on Paradise Road. Room 1412.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Bye.”
Sawyer hung up, leaving Dominic blinking at the abrupt disconnection. “Weird guy,” Dominic muttered as he set his phone aside and turned the key in the ignition.
The half-hour drive gave him plenty of time to second-guess his decision, as well as to battle constant cravings that told him he was an idiot to drive toward certain pain when he could return to the casino and avoid it altogether. He rolled the windows down all the way, turned the radio on full blast, and drove as fast as he could without getting pulled over by any of Levi’s minions. By the time he reached the hotel, his hands were aching from how hard he’d been gripping the steering wheel.
He was rehearsing what he would say as he walked into the lobby, only for it all to fly right out of his head when he saw Levi standing at the reception desk.
Levi was the most striking man Dominic had ever met, but right now he looked terrible. His skin was unnaturally pale, which made the bruises from his throw-down with Utopia stand out in even starker contrast. Stubble roughed his cheeks and jaw, and he seemed to be leaning on the counter as much to hold himself upright as anything else.
Dominic squared his shoulders and kept walking. When Levi saw him, he groaned and slumped even further against the desk.
“Oh my God,” Levi said, and proved that wasn’t a figure of speech when he rolled his eyes heavenward and added, “Why are you doing this to me?”
“We need to talk,” said Dominic, undeterred.
“I can’t.” Levi turned aside, his voice jagged. “Please, Dominic, I can’t do this with you today.”
Before Dominic could reply, a clerk emerged from a room behind the reception desk and handed Levi a small, square package. “Here you go, Detective.”
“Thank you.”
“What is that?” Dominic asked as Levi used his keys to slit the tape holding the box shut.
“Sawyer sent me a package. They just called me to come down for it.” Levi set the cardboard aside to reveal a smaller box, this one hinged and made of steel.
Dominic’s brow furrowed. He couldn’t help thinking that Sawyer would have mentioned sending Levi a package when they spoke—and besides, if Sawyer was going to send him anything, wouldn’t it be papers?
“Wait,” he said, but Levi had already flipped the top of the box open.
Levi’s face went blank, as if every muscle had been locked into an expressionless mask. Anxiety spiking, Dominic moved to look over his shoulder—then gagged and took a step back.
An intact eyeball rested on a small baggie of ice. Though the iris was fading, Dominic had only seen such a piercing blue on one person before.
There was a typed message taped to the inside lid of the box: GET THE POLICE TO BACK OFF IF YOU WANT HIM ALIVE.
“Is that Stanton’s?” Dominic asked faintly, already certain that it was.
Levi didn’t respond. Dominic braced himself, but he had no idea how Levi was going to react—scream and throw the box against the wall? Burst into tears? Just collapse? He had to be ready for anything.
Except Levi didn’t do any of those things. He just turned to meet Dominic’s eyes and said, in a perfectly calm voice, “Somebody is going to die.”
“I’m going to say this one more time,” said Dominic. “We need to call the police.”
Cell phone in hand, Levi stopped by the window of his hotel room and gazed at the busy road below. Dominic had followed him up here without asking, but he hadn’t protested.
“We can’t.” He felt more clear-headed than he had in days, like the fog had been swept out of his brain. “You saw the note. Juliette will have Stanton killed.”
“The cops are already pursuing her and her lackeys. If they don’t know Stanton’s been taken, they won’t know to back off.”
Levi shrugged. “They wouldn’t back off anyway. It’s American law enforcement policy to not negotiate with terrorists, and that includes kidnappers. The police may pretend to play along, but they won’t just let the perpetrators go. It’s too dangerous to get them involved.”
There was a drawn-out silence until Dominic spoke again. “This isn’t what you would advise if this situation were happening to someone else.”
“No, it’s not.” Levi turned to face Dominic, who’d been handling him with kid gloves since he’d opened that box. He understood why, though it wasn’t necessary. “But it’s happening to me, and I know what I’m capable of. I’ve seen hostage situations go bad before; I’m sure you have too. I’m not letting that happen to Stanton, no matter what the consequences are for me personally.”
Dominic nodded. “You’re positive he was really taken? I checked while you were on the phone—there haven’t been any reports of kidnappings or carjackings in the Valley today.”
“Bridget said Stanton flew back from Geneva earlier today and that his plane landed at McCarran as scheduled. He texted her a few hours ago to tell her he was with me. There’s no other reason he would have done that. And his phone keeps going straight to voice mail.”
Levi tossed his phone onto the bed. Bridget had been understandably confused by his call, but he thought he’d played it off well enough to assuage any suspicions.
“If he landed safely but never got where he was going . . .” Dominic began pacing the room. “They must have been waiting for him in his car at the airport.”
“He called me yesterday when he heard about what happened with the Seven of Spades,” Levi said. “But I never called him back, so Bridget said he decided to cut his trip short and come home early.” His voice cracked. “I knew Stanton was on the list of potential victims, and I never even told him. I thought he’d be safe in Europe.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I know.” Levi gave his head a slight shake. “It’s the Seven of Spades’s. This wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for them.”
“About that,” Dominic said, a shadow crossing his face. “The Seven of Spades texted me today, being all vague and ominous about something having gone wrong. I thought they were playing one of their games, so I ignored them. They must have found out on their own that Stanton had been taken, and were trying to warn me.”
“It doesn’t matter. If they really wanted to help, they would have just told you—or me. They don’t care about Stanton; they just enjoy fucking with our heads.”
“The Seven of Spades must keep tabs on Stanton the way they do with everyone else who’s important to you and me. For Juliette’s mercs to be ready to snatch him after a last-minute change in his schedule, she must have been doing the same.”
“Stanton probably made the top of her list the second I was named lead detective in the Buckner case,” said Levi. “And she had to be keeping an eye on me too, since she was able to track me to this hotel. Although I did use my credit card at a few stores in this area last night, so it wouldn’t have been hard to narrow down the options.”
Dominic leaned against the wall. “Let’s break it down. Juliette’s mercenaries kidnapped Stanton in a way that left nobody the wiser, made no ransom demand, cut out one of his eyes right off the bat, and sent it directly to his cop ex-boyfriend who’s been investigating their crimes. They didn’t take him for money; they took him for insurance. As soon as they’re free and clear, they will kill him.”
“I know. That’s why I need to find him first. Once I have a better grasp of the situation, I’ll call the police in if it won’t increase the risk to Stanton’s life.”
“Well, that sounds good in theory,” Dominic said with a frown. “Except even the cops don’t have anything to work from. Royce knows nothing of value, Juliette’s disappeared into the ether, and Martine told me the search of their desert safe house turned up empty. Unl
ess we get lucky and someone else recognizes one of the men and calls in a tip, our leads have gone cold.”
Except that wasn’t exactly true, was it? There was one big lead left. It just wasn’t one the LVMPD had been able to pursue.
Not legally, anyway.
Levi grabbed his phone and key card and started for the door. Dominic stepped into his path with both hands outstretched.
“Whoa. Where the hell are you going?”
Levi lifted his chin. “I’m about to do something very bad. Now, you can come with me or you can stay away, but you cannot stop me.”
“I’ve got your back.”
“Are you—”
“I’ve got your back,” Dominic repeated firmly.
A small knot of tension loosened in Levi’s neck. He took one of Dominic’s hands and laced their fingers together, squeezing briefly before he moved around Dominic to leave the room.
“So where are we going?” Dominic asked as he followed Levi down the hallway.
“MountainView Hospital.”
Levi hovered by the wall just past the nurses’ station, eyeing the uniformed officer posted outside Charles Graham’s room at the end of the ward. “He’s not going to let me just walk in there. Even if I weren’t suspended, I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to Graham without his attorney present.”
Dominic, who was lounging against the wall far more convincingly, tapped Levi’s hand until Levi looked at him instead of the cop. “I could try to distract him, lure him away from the room so you can slip in without him seeing you.”
“No. If he leaves his post and something happens to his charge, he could lose his job. There has to be another way.”
They hadn’t had any difficulty entering the hospital itself, as it was well within visiting hours, but Graham’s sentry posed a frustrating obstacle. Levi couldn’t cost an innocent man his job if there were any other option.
Sending a casual glance over his shoulder, Dominic said, “I don’t know that cop. Which means he probably doesn’t know me.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“In this case? Good.” Dominic thumbed through his wallet and pulled out a card. “What’s Graham’s lawyer’s name?”
“Um . . .” Levi racked his memory. “Reuben Cooke.”
Dominic flashed him a roguish grin. “Not anymore. Follow my lead.”
He whirled around and hustled down the hall at a rapid clip. Startled, Levi hurried to catch up.
When they reached Graham’s room, Dominic was slightly short of breath, though he had to be faking it. “I need to speak with my client immediately.”
The cop blinked at him from his rickety plastic chair. “Your . . . what? Who are you?” As he noticed Levi beyond Dominic’s shoulder, his face screwed up in confusion. “Detective Abrams?”
Dominic snapped his fingers in front of the cop’s face. “I’m Michael Greene. Mr. Graham’s new attorney.”
He handed the cop the card he was holding, which Levi realized now must be a fake ID. Levi had never been a good liar, so he concentrated on hiding as much of himself as he could behind Dominic’s bulk and keeping his face blank.
Studying the card with a furrowed brow, the cop said, “I don’t understand. What happened to—”
“Mr. Cooke had a heart attack this morning.”
“Oh my God. Is he—”
“I just found out that my firm is dumping half his cases on me—which, as you can see, I was not prepared for on a Sunday afternoon.” Dominic gestured to his casual clothing. “Cooke’s files are a mess, and calling his work sloppy would be too great a compliment. I need to speak to Mr. Graham about revising his defense strategy right away.”
“That’s fine, but what’s Detective Abrams doing here?” The cop looked at Levi again. “I mean, aren’t you, uh, suspended?”
Dominic crossed his arms over his massive chest, his biceps straining at the sleeves of his T-shirt. He stepped closer to the cop, looming over him, and the cop shrank back in his chair with wide eyes.
“Are you telling me how to do my job?” Dominic said in a low, dangerous tone.
“What? No!”
“Do I come down to your substation and tell you how to do your job?”
“No—”
“Then would you like to explain why you’re denying an American citizen his constitutional right to counsel, Officer?”
“Jesus, no, I would never—” The cop shook his head frantically, his cheeks flushed red, and thrust the card back at Dominic. “Go ahead. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Dominic gestured to the door. “After you, Detective.”
Levi had to bite his tongue to prevent his reaction from showing on his face as he moved past them into the room. Dominic followed, closing the door once they were both inside.
Charles Graham was asleep, looking much better than he had the last time Levi saw him—there was more color in his face, and his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. The first thing Levi did was ensure that Graham wasn’t hooked up to any sort of telemetry monitor that would alert the nurses’ station to a change in his heart rate. He was reassured to see the only thing connected to Graham’s body was an IV line—and a pair of handcuffs that restrained his left wrist to the bedrail.
As Levi approached the bed, Graham stirred awake and looked at him blearily. Seconds later, Graham’s eyes rounded with fear and recognition. He struggled to rise from his semireclined position, collapsed with a groan, and opened his mouth.
“Don’t scream,” Levi said. He moved the call button out of Graham’s reach.
Graham’s gaze darted toward Dominic, who remained in front of the door with his arms still folded, before returning to Levi. “You can’t be in here. It’s illegal for you to talk to me without my lawyer.”
“I don’t care.”
Levi sat on the edge of the bed. Graham shied away, but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go on the narrow mattress.
“Your friends took someone very important to me,” Levi said. “They cut out his eye and sent it to me in a box.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Obviously. But you can tell me where to find them.”
“No—”
“Are you married?”
“Uh . . .” Graham shifted uncomfortably. “No.”
“I assume you have people in your life you care about, though. People you love. Your parents, maybe?” Observing Graham’s reaction, Levi played a hunch. “Your mother?”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
Levi nodded. “I’d like you to imagine that a group of known murderers kidnapped your mother, mutilated her, and held her hostage. Is there anything you wouldn’t do to get her back safely? Any law you wouldn’t break?” He rested his hand lightly in the center of Graham’s chest. “Any line you wouldn’t cross?”
A flinch ran through Graham at even that slight contact. The dark, secret part of Levi, the one that enjoyed pain and blood and battle, stretched and purred like a cat basking in sunlight.
“Please, I don’t know anything,” Graham said shakily.
“Don’t lie to me. You would have had a secondary safe house established in the event that your primary base of operations was compromised. Where is it?”
“We didn’t have anything like that.”
“I told you not to lie to me.” Levi peeled away the thin blanket, revealing Graham’s hospital gown, and brushed a hand over his abdomen. He knew he’d found the gunshot wound when Graham cringed and sucked in a harsh breath.
“Yeah, right.” Graham managed an impressive sneer despite his trembling. “You’d never—”
Levi pressed on the wound, clamping his other hand over Graham’s mouth to muffle the screams that burst forth. Graham thrashed on the bed, trying to shove Levi away, but he might not have been able to throw Levi off even at full strength. Compromised by an abdominal injury, a recent infection, and the disadvantage of lying on his back with one arm handcuffed, he didn’t stand a chance.
&
nbsp; Levi watched Graham struggle with clinical detachment. He hadn’t been sure he’d have the stomach for this, but all he had to do was think of Stanton—of Stanton’s terror when he’d been kidnapped, of his horror and desperation when they took his eye, of how hopeless he must feel right now, believing nobody was coming for him.
The mercenaries had kept Nguyen unconscious while they removed her eye, but there was no guarantee they’d done the same for Stanton, or even that they’d used anesthesia. He could have been awake for the entire procedure. He could have been in hideous pain the whole time.
While Graham hadn’t hurt Stanton personally, he’d terrorized six other people in similar ways. He could have been the one to mutilate Rose Nguyen, or the one to kill Joel Buckner. Levi watched him suffer and felt nothing.
When Levi released him, Graham was drenched in sweat, his face pallid. He sucked in several gasping lungfuls of air.
“You’re a fucking psycho!” he snarled. “What the hell are you doing? Jesus Christ—”
“Tell me where your friends took Stanton Barclay,” Levi said, implacable.
“I told you, I don’t know—”
Levi pushed against the wound again, digging his fingers into the skin around it this time. Graham shrieked against his palm, writhing in agony, swinging futilely at Levi’s face with his free arm and then scrabbling at Levi’s hand.
Dominic was still standing in front of the door, a solid, unyielding presence Levi could sense without needing to look. Levi didn’t bother gauging his reaction, because if he was going to interfere, he would have done so already. He’d been a soldier; surely he’d seen worse than this.
By the time Levi let up, Graham was sobbing, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and sliding down his face. Levi wondered idly if he was going to vomit.
“You can’t do this,” Graham said, his tone one of pure disbelief. His hands fluttered over his abdomen, where spots of blood dotted his hospital gown. “You can’t. You’re a cop.”
“I want you to look me in the eye while I tell you this.” When Graham refused to comply, Levi gripped his chin and leaned over him so he had no other choice. “There is nothing I won’t do to get Stanton back alive. I will keep hurting you until you tell me where he is, and if you pass out, I will wake you up and hurt you all over again.”
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