Mortal Ties

by Eileen Wilks

  That amused him, damn him. “The Bojuka.”

  “I’m just starting, but I do pretty well.”

  “Rule has guards, and he’s probably a tiny bit better at taking care of himself than you are.”

  “Oooh, sarcasm. Those puppy-dog eyes are such a lie. How did you stand it, not being able to issue orders to me while you were sneaking around following me?”

  “It was rough.”

  He was still amused. She wanted to hit him. “Not that you were all that good at sneaking. I saw you sometimes, you know, and—”

  “You thought I was a neighbor.”

  “Yeah, but aren’t you supposed to—hey!”

  He’d stopped so abruptly she almost smacked into him. “Back!”

  “What?”

  “Go back up. Quick.”

  But he didn’t wait for her to obey, grabbing her and turning her physically, which pissed her off and got her heart scared. He shoved. Her feet obeyed him even as her heartbeat went crazy. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  “Patrick sounded the alert. Move faster.”

  Patrick? Who was Patrick? What alert? She hadn’t heard anything—but she didn’t have lupi hearing, and his hand was urging her to move, move faster, and she took the stairs as fast as she could so that all she heard were her own feet, her own breath coming hard and rough.

  She reached the third-floor landing. His hand left her back for her shoulder, and he pushed down and gave a piercing whistle. She went to her knees, dazed and frightened and wondering what—

  “Get flat!” he ordered, but he didn’t pause to see if she obeyed. He spun back around and leaped. Leaped down the stairs, his arms spread so that one brushed the wall, as if he wanted to make himself the biggest target possible. Leaped right at the man racing up the stairs with a gun pointed up at him.

  The sound of the shots was deafeningly loud in the closed-in space.

  TWENTY-THREE

  CARRIE Ann Rucker was fifty-nine, a placid woman with graying blond hair and a crooked front tooth that lent a certain charm to her smile. She owned a small handcrafted jewelry store and was wearing a sample of her merchandise with her neatly pressed jeans and white blouse—a pretty pair of chandelier earrings.

  She also worked as a mule for a drug cartel. Her only arrest had never made it to the grand jury, thanks to some clumsiness on the part of the arresting officer and a very expensive lawyer. One who also worked for said cartel.

  “And you never looked inside the bag,” Lily said.

  “He asked me not to, and I agreed. I do believe in keeping my word, don’t you?”

  One of the interesting things about Carrie Ann was the way her attention stayed with Lily. Sure, Rule wasn’t saying much, but people always noticed him. Especially women. Even if Carrie Ann was wired for women, Lily would expect her to take more interest in a guy who occasionally turns into a wolf. “That seems like an odd thing to ask. Even odder that you agreed.”

  Carrie Ann smiled comfortably. “I’m not a very curious person.”

  “Remarkably incurious, considering you’ve been arrested for transporting illegal substances in the past. Substances you had no idea someone had planted in your car,” Lily said dryly. “Hard to believe you wouldn’t want to make sure this man you’d never met before wasn’t taking advantage of your helpful nature.”

  “He had such a good vibe. I’m sure it was all perfectly innocent.”

  “Are you, now? And yet the FBI takes very little interest in scavenger hunts.”

  Carrie Ann just smiled.

  Lily looked down at her notes, wondering how much longer to push. Carrie Ann was a pro. She knew what to say and when to shut up, and she was enjoying herself way too much. She knew damn well Lily didn’t have a lever to pry loose any actual facts. Sure, she’d given them a description of the “nice older man” she met at the park, but that only meant that whoever really had her make the drop looked nothing like the guy she’d described.

  Lily looked up from her notes. “That’s what he said he was doing, right? Setting up a scavenger hunt for the grandkids. He asked you to leave a Macy’s shopping bag at the base of the Dutch windmill. He specifically asked you not to look inside.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He was a white male, about seventy. He had white hair, thick for a man his age. You don’t remember what he was wearing, but you’re sure you would have noticed if he’d been in a suit.”

  “No one wears suits on Saturday at the park, do they?”

  “You think he may have been wearing glasses, but you aren’t sure about that, either. And you don’t know his name.”

  “He must have told me,” she said apologetically, “but I don’t remember it. And I think the bag was from Macy’s, but it might have been Nordstrom’s. I shop at both places, and I’m sure it was from one of them.”

  Rule touched Lily’s arm lightly and stood. She glanced up. He’d taken out his phone and was heading for the door of the office they’d borrowed from one of the local agents. She looked back at Carrie Ann. “How much do you think the bag weighed?”

  “Oh, not too much. Perhaps as much as two or three books?”

  “It’s curious that you would think of comparing it to objects made of paper. It did, in fact, hold paper.”

  “Oh?” She said that politely, as if she felt a certain social obligation to express interest.

  “Mmm. Ms. Rucker—”

  “Please make it Carrie Ann,” she said warmly.

  Lily bared her teeth in something not meant to be mistaken for a smile. “Carrie Ann, I hope you’ll search your memory carefully. Amazing as it seems, that nice old man was not arranging a scavenger hunt. As I said, the Bureau takes very little interest in such things. We do, however, really perk up and pay attention when kidnapping’s involved.”

  The slight widening of her eyes was Carrie Ann’s first unscripted response. She didn’t like that word, not at all. Whoever told her to make the drop hadn’t given her any hint it might be ransom money. She recovered quickly, lifting one hand to her throat and allowing herself to look uncertain. “Kidnapping. Oh, surely not. If one of that nice old man’s grandchildren was—”

  The door opened. “Lily,” Rule said. “They tried for Beth. She’s okay. Murray isn’t. I need to get there quick.”

  Lily shoved her chair back and fixed Rucker with a look. “Stay here.”

  One second later, she was out the door and flinging orders at the first face she saw. “Get me a driver and a car with a siren. Black-and-white or Bureau—whichever’s faster. I need the car waiting on the street by the time the elevator gets me down there.”

  “What—”

  “Do it. Now. Bergman!”

  The door at the end of the hall opened. The woman’s face creased with annoyance. “You yelled?”

  “They attacked my sister. One of Rule’s people is badly hurt. I’m leaving. Keep someone on Rucker. Use this attack to shake her loose, if you can.” She flung the last over her shoulder as she headed for the elevator bank, Rule beside her. “Who called you,” she asked him, her voice low, “if Murray’s badly hurt?”

  “Patrick.”

  “Patrick? But—”

  “I added him to Beth’s detail while you were questioning Tony. The attackers came at her in the stairwell of her building—four men, two from above, two from below. Beth is unharmed. Murray took at least one bullet in the chest. I told Patrick to call an ambulance. I need to be there. Murray’s not conscious now, but if he survives long enough for the EMTs to load him, he could wake up.”

  “Right.” Badly hurt lupi were dangerous. Murray might Change; he might see any attempt at help as an attack. Rule could control him. She jabbed the elevator button and thought about the stairs, but they were on the thirteenth floor. Rule might beat the elevator down, but she couldn’t. The car she’d ordered probably wouldn’t be there yet, anyway.

  Bergman caught up with them. “Is your sister all right?”

  “I
think so. Four men came for her. Could have been an attempted hit or a snatch, but my money’s on the latter. Who sends four men to kill a single young woman?” She looked at Rule. “What happened to the attackers? Was Patrick able to hold on to any of them?”

  “Who’s Patrick?’ Bergman said.

  Rule answered Lily, not the other woman. “Two are dead. One escaped. One is alive, but badly injured.”

  Bergman scowled. “Sounds like one hell of a mess. Your sister didn’t repel four men on her own. Who’s this Patrick?”

  “One of Rule’s men.” Lily stabbed the stupid damn elevator button again and looked at Rule. “Are the locals on the scene yet?”

  He looked blank. Rule tended not to think about calling the cops.

  “Someone’s probably called it in,” Lily told Bergman as the elevator finally opened. “At least one shot was fired. Get in touch with the locals. Make sure they’re expecting me and Rule.” She and Rule stepped into the elevator.

  “Wait. What do you mean, he’s one of Rule’s men? Were you expecting something like this?”

  “Not like this, no.” The doors shut on Special Agent Bergman’s frustrated face. Lily looked at Rule. “You were, though. You sent Patrick.”

  “Belt and suspenders,” he said obscurely as the elevator started down. “Lily, the two dead—Murray took out one, and Patrick got the other. The badly injured one, though, that was Beth’s doing. Do you want Patrick to take responsibility for him? I need to let him know.”

  “Shit.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “SURE,” Lily said. “I’ll call you later. No, I’m here and…I know you do. I’ll give her your love, and…” Lily listened patiently to another list of things she must be sure to do. It wasn’t that hard. She knew the list was her mother’s way of saying she loved Beth, and this time, at least, her mother wasn’t blaming Lily for what had happened to her sister. This time, her mother seemed to trust her. “Uh-huh. No, don’t worry about that—she’ll be staying with me and Rule.”

  Beth paused in her pacing to glare at her. “No, I won’t.”

  Lily gave her a look. “I need to go. I don’t like to leave Beth alone with that detective and…of course I will. ’Bye.”

  “She’s not coming here, is she?” Beth demanded.

  Lily slipped her phone in her pocket. “No, and you owe me big-time for telling her you were still talking to the local police. You’ll call her yourself later. And you are staying with me and Rule.”

  “No, I’m not.” Beth resumed her furious circuit of the surgical waiting room. “Haven’t I proved how damn good I am at taking care of myself? Sent him sailing—splat!” She slapped her hands together. “Took him right out.”

  “Uh-huh. You figure you can protect your roommates, too, if the bad guys try for you again?”

  Beth’s mouth opened. Closed. She turned away and started pacing again, up and down the room, like she’d been doing since they got here.

  There was only one person other than Lily to watch. Tony Romano sat in the corner pretending to read an old issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Maybe he really was reading it—who knew? He’d insisted on coming to the hospital, claiming he had no problem with the setting. Most lupi didn’t do well in hospitals, but Tony was a Rho. He was supposed to be aces at control. He said he hoped to be useful to Rule, but of course Rule didn’t stay where Tony could hang around being helpful. He went into surgery with Murray. That’s when Tony attached himself to Lily like an enormous barnacle. She thought he must be “studying on” her, getting used to the idea of a woman with authority. She wasn’t sure why she was letting him.

  Scott and Todd were just outside in the hall, glaring at anyone who looked like they might come in. Either the glares worked or the hospital was having a slow surgical day, because they’d had the room to themselves for the past twenty minutes. Lily knew that was temporary. If nothing, else, the press would find them eventually.

  Somewhere nearby was the man Beth had sent sailing over a railing to plummet three stories down. He was still in surgery. Lily had told Rule it was Beth’s choice about whether to ask Patrick to claim responsibility for that. Beth had reacted just as Lily had expected—she’d been horrified by the idea.

  Murray had come around at the scene, but Rule had kept him calm, and Cullen had met them at the hospital. Murray had taken two bullets; one wasn’t much of a problem, being in his shoulder, but the other had hit his heart. He had to have surgery, but anesthesia didn’t work on lupi. Fortunately, sleep spells did, and Cullen was good at them, so he and Rule had scrubbed and gone into surgery with Murray. They were with him now in post-op.

  Lily was not needed for any of this. She’d rather have taken Beth to the hotel once they could leave the scene of the attack. Beth could be guarded better there—and Lily had so much to do. The locals were handling the immediate investigation of Beth’s attackers, but that wasn’t exactly the only thing on her plate. She’d ended up video conferencing from the damn ladies’ room—the one spot at the hospital with some privacy—when the judge insisted on a personal discussion of her need for taps on Jasper Machek’s phones.

  At least the woman had ended up granting permission, so…her phone buzzed.

  It was the detective Lily had maligned to her mother, a perfectly courteous woman named Rachel Jones. They’d confirmed the ID on the three perps whose bodies—living or dead—were in their hands. They had a line to follow on who they’d worked for, too. Did Lily want to sit in when they picked the man up?

  She did. Lily thanked Detective Jones and disconnected.

  “Who was that?” Beth said brightly. “One of your police buddies? Have they decided for sure they won’t arrest me?”

  “They’re not going to arrest you.” Lily had told her that several times. “They’ve got names for all of the perps but the one who escaped. The guy in surgery is—”

  “You’re right. Why would they arrest me? I didn’t do anything wrong. He deserved it, right?”

  Beth didn’t want to hear the man’s name. Having a name made him real, made it a person she’d tossed over that railing, not a lump of meat. Lily understood, but dehumanizing your opponents was bad for the soul…and it was weird for her to think in terms of the soul, but things had changed a lot in the last year. The good news was that her sister wasn’t very good at that particular form of denial. Beth had insisted on coming here to wait until the guy got out of surgery. You didn’t do that for a lump of meat. The bad news was that Beth insisted she was fine, just fine, while her movements grew more frantic and her eyes brittle with everything she was determined not to feel.

  After a too-long pause Lily said, “Maybe it doesn’t matter what he deserved.”

  “I guess you think it should bother me,” Beth said. “It doesn’t. I defended myself. That’s why I went to Bojuka—so I’d be able to defend myself. And it worked, didn’t it? So I’m not upset.”

  “You’re doing a pretty good job of acting upset.”

  “I’m not acting. And I’m not…it’s the adrenaline. I was attacked, and all that adrenalin has me kind of wired. But not upset.”

  “The adrenaline’s worn off by now.” Lily stood. “His name is Robert Clampett.”

  “Why do I need to know that? I didn’t need to know that.”

  “I don’t know if Clampett deserved his fate, but I don’t have to know that. You did the right thing, Beth. You did what needed to be done.”

  “Aren’t you listening? That’s what I’ve been saying.” Beth stopped moving. Her eyes were too big, too bright.

  “Is it what you’re feeling?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel. It’s not guilt, but I don’t know what it is. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” Lily moved closer and slid an arm around Beth’s waist. “Maybe you can just feel whatever-it-is without naming it.”

  “But it has to have a name. Something so large—other people must have felt it, too. There must be a word for it.�
�

  The word was change. Lily didn’t think Beth would know what she meant if she suggested it, though. People didn’t use change as an emotion word, but as a little-c verb—change the oil, the channel, your hair color or your address or your diet. Even the phrase “change your life” referred to an act of volition, taking charge of something and making it better, or at least different. They weren’t talking about the kind of volcanic upheaval Beth was caught up in where ash covered the landscape and lava spewed up into the air and the ground shook and shook, and nothing looked right or normal.

  Of course, another word for what Beth felt would be trauma. Lily didn’t think her sister wanted to hear that one, either. “Are you glad you’re alive?”

  Beth nodded firmly. “Of course.”

  “It looks like Murray’s going to be okay. Are you glad about that?”

  “I—he—Lily, he jumped at that man with the gun so he would take the bullet instead of me. I’m sure of it. He—he—” Her breath hitched. Her eyes filled. And at last she started to cry.

  Once the sobs hit, they hit hard. Lily wrapped her arms around Beth and held on while Beth cried out some of the confusion. For a long time she didn’t say anything, not until Beth stirred. “Tissue?” She disengaged enough to reach for the box on a nearby table.

  “Oh, God, yes,” Beth took the box and pulled one out and blew her nose. “I’m sorry for falling apart like that.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t.”

  “Just because you haven’t been around for any of my collapses doesn’t mean they don’t happen. Murray’s going to be okay, Beth. What he did—”

  “He could have died.”

  “He could have, yeah. But that’s the sort of thing lupi do, especially if a woman’s in danger. They heal so much faster than we can, so they go flinging themselves in front of bullets or knives or demons or whatever as if that were a good idea.”

  Beth’s laugh was damp and shaky. “That’s it. That’s it. I didn’t want him there, and I was giving him a hard time, and he—he still threw himself in front of that gun!”