by Ellen Butler
I squeezed the bag before answering. “I would have used my taser, but they said I had to stay in the van.”
“Nice,” he said with a smirk. “Told you she could be an asset to the team.”
Josh shook his head and commented, “Warned is a better adjective.”
Rick reentered the room. “Actually, she was an asset. We had no idea the pair of them had shown up. We were spread too thin. I was in the basement with Christoph, Hernandez was watching the three in the back, and Josh was attending the girls. If it weren’t for the racket out front . . .”
“Alright, alright.” Josh held up a hand and sighed. “I owe you one, Karina.”
Jin grinned.
Embarrassed, I stared at the inflating bag.
The sounds of the sirens grew closer and closer until they arrived on scene. With them came my own relief, for it meant the nightmare had come to an end.
Chapter Twenty-One
At the hospital, they wheeled my sister into a treatment room, gave me a pile of paperwork, and pointed me in the direction of an empty lounge. It wasn’t empty for long. Jin must have followed the ambulance and soon joined me for the interminable wait.
“I guess you drew the short straw,” I said, scribbling my way through the intake form.
“Nah, I volunteered.”
My brows arched in surprise.
He shrugged. “I’ve had my fill of paperwork for one day.”
I smirked. “Well, thanks for coming.”
“Someone had to. I found that in the ambulance,” he said, holding up the Kevlar vest. “You need to put it back on.”
I’d removed the vest on the ride over. While I’d ditched the vest, my stocked utility belt remained wrapped around my waist. It was probably a good thing I’d been wearing it, because it’s unlikely I would have remembered to grab my purse on the way to the ambulance. I was starting to see the draw in wearing cargo pants—like the pair Jin wore—or a utility belt. They kept your possessions close without the burden of a heavy handbag.
I stared at the vest with the pen poised above the clipboard. “I’m not keen to put it back on,” I admitted. “Don’t you think we’re safe here in the hospital?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I think you’re vulnerable.” He held it out to me.
With a put-upon sigh, I tried to wrestle my way back into the vest. My arms got stuck in the upright position, and I couldn’t seem to get the vest to go up or down. “Uh, Jin, a little help.”
Jin wasn’t as tall as Josh, but his hands were strong, and with a tug and a yank, the vest slid into place, once again squishing my boobs.
I struck a pose. “Sexy, huh?”
“It’s not supposed to be sexy. It’s supposed to be safe,” he replied in a monotone voice while adjusting the Velcro straps.
After I finished the forms, Jin carried them to the appropriate paper pusher. He returned to find me absently picking at nonexistent lint on my yoga pants.
“Is there someone you need to call?” he asked.
“Probably a million people,” I muttered, pulling my phone out of a pocket on the utility belt. I’d turned the sound off after talking to Mike, and to my displeasure, I found dozens of voicemails and texts. Dropping the phone in my lap, I rubbed a hand across my face. Mike was on a plane, so I couldn’t call him. On the other hand, my parents deserved a call. I dialed their number.
Mom answered before the first ring completed. “Hello?”
“Mom? It’s Karina, we found Jilly and she’s going to be okay.”
My mother immediately began sobbing, and I paced the floor as I consoled her.
Twenty minutes later, it had been decided my mom would fly out on the first flight she could get. My father had been teaching classes at the local community college and the upcoming week was finals. Grades would be due afterward, so we determined he would stay behind for the time being.
Not long after I hung up, Mike walked into the waiting room wearing jeans and a black hoodie, wheeling a suitcase. I stumbled into his open arms, so incredibly thankful as his warm embrace curled around me.
“I thought it would take you longer to get home,” I mumbled into his shoulder.
“You can thank your friend Rick. I don’t know who he called, but it must have been someone high up the food chain. I couldn’t find a direct flight, and the next thing I know, an Air Force pilot is knocking on my door with orders to fly me into Andrews Air Force Base. From there I was choppered to the Pentagon, where I got a taxi. I guess you haven’t seen my texts.”
Sheepishly, I shook my head. “Things have been a little . . . chaotic.”
“That’s what I understand.” The deep crease between his brows spoke to hours of worry.
I rubbed a thumb along that furrow and found myself pulled into his embrace again. I welcomed the comfort it brought.
A little while later, he released me enough to allow proper breathing to return. “I spoke with your parents,” he told me.
“I know. I called them just before you arrived. My mom is getting a flight out tomorrow morning.”
“Let me know when she’s supposed to arrive. I can pick her up.”
I smiled weakly at his thoughtfulness, realizing I’d probably have my hands full with Jillian.
A thickset man with thinning brown hair, black-rimmed glasses, and wearing green scrubs entered the waiting room. “Who’s here with” —he glanced at the clipboard in his hand— “Jillian Cardinal?”
“That would be us. I’m her sister, Karina.” I took Mike’s hand in mine and stepped closer to the doctor. I felt Jin’s presence on my other side. “How is she?”
“I’m Dr. Kanter.” We shook hands. “Your sister is in stable condition, but we are going to admit her, and keep her under observation overnight.”
“Can I see her?” I asked.
“After we get her a room, you can go on up. Only family.” He eyed the two men. “Wait here, and someone will direct you once we get her settled. Officially, visiting hours are over, so the nurses won’t allow you to stay for long. You can return tomorrow at nine.”
While we waited for Jillian to get a room, Rick arrived, his gaze alighting on Mike and me. “You made it,” he stated in greeting.
“Thanks to you.” Mike rose and shook Rick’s hand, slapping him on the shoulder with his other one. “I don’t know what favors you called in, or how you knew where I was, but I appreciate it. I owe you one.”
Rick gave him a calculating look as he replied, “One day, I’ll collect.” Then he moved past Mike to me and gestured to the vest. “You can remove that.”
“Oh, thank goodness, it’s making me sweat.” I loosened the straps and Rick helped wrench off the bulky vest.
“Did the hit get called off?” Mike frowned as I readjusted my shirt.
“The hit was put out by Hector Cortez.” Rick tossed the Kevlar onto nearby bench. “Since he’s dead, no one has offered to pay the bounty.”
“Are you sure everyone knows?” Skepticism filled Mike’s question.
Rick nodded. “Cops have put word out on the street that there’s no money in it. The gang took a big hit tonight.”
“You mean all the drugs and money in the house?” I asked.
“That, and the warehouse the taskforce raided. Drugs, cash, guns, and military weapons.”
“Military weapons?” I exclaimed.
“M252 mortars, MK19 grenade launchers, cases of M-16s, XM25 Counter Defilade Target Engagement System—” Rick listed half a dozen more weapon systems that was all military Greek to me.
Jin crossed his arms with a deep frown. “That sounds a lot like a shipment to Afghanistan that went missing last summer.”
Rick stuck his hands in his pockets. “Looks like they’d already sold off some of the larger equipment.”
“How’d they get ahold of it?” I asked.
“Inside job,” Mike and Rick answered at once.
All the men exchanged looks that made me feel left out.
&
nbsp; “They also confiscated a computer system.” Rick tilted his chin at Mike. “Your people will have a field day.”
Mike rubbed his jaw and held back a yawn. “Maybe we can identify our Pentagon arms dealer with it.”
“I believe that’s the hope.” Rick rocked back on his heels. “Whatever the case, MS-13 took a big hit tonight. It’s my understanding they arrested two of Montoya’s top lieutenants along with a dozen soldiers at the warehouse. Nine more were killed on site, and four went to the hospital. Cops rounded up over a dozen more gang members tonight. Word on the street—Montoya’s on the run and a rival gang is already positioning themselves to move in on his territory.”
“A productive evening,” I murmured.
“Jin—” Rick addressed his subordinate. “You can go. I’ll want to see your report tomorrow, but you can clock out tonight.”
“Wait, Jin, before you leave—” I placed my hand on his sleeve “—what happened with Tazim?”
“He went to fence the diamonds. Once the police entered the picture, Tazim crumpled and was more than willing to squeal on anyone he could think of.” He gave a knowing grin. “They didn’t even offer protection, he was spouting names as they put him in the squad car. Gambling ring bosses, loan sharks, even some guy who deals in counterfeit cash.”
“So, Sadira had nothing to do with the original diamond theft?”
He gave a head shake. “Doesn’t look like it. She was an easy target for Tazim.”
“Why did he do it? Was it just the money to pay for his gambling habit?”
Jin’s scar elongated as he frowned. “They threatened his wife and kids. The mix-up with the manager at the jewelry store simply made Sadira an easy target.”
“Hm, just think,” I mused, “if Tazim had pinned the theft on another one of his employees, all of this never would have happened. MS-13 would be selling those weapons to the highest bidding military junta.”
“Most likely,” Jin agreed.
“Huh, my sister, in her quest to help an at-risk youth, brought down a little gang empire.”
Mike put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “She deserves a medal.”
A nurse came in, breaking up our little coterie, to direct me to Jillian’s room. She reiterated the doctor’s orders that only family would be allowed. I gave Jin and Rick a hug, thanked them for everything they’d done for me tonight, and told them I’d contact them tomorrow.
“I’ll wait here,” Mike said, “and take you home afterward.”
I squeezed his hand, then followed the nurse’s directions to Jillian’s room.
The room held two beds, but Jillian was the only one in it. IV tubes and wires monitoring her heartbeat snaked out from beneath the covers. They’d intubated her, and the breathing machine wheezed quietly. Her left eye was swollen angry red and her cheek, a mottled purple. She slept.
I took her cool, limp hand in my own and murmured a prayer. The nurses kicked me out, in the kindest tones, after what seemed like five minutes, but checking my watch, I found I’d stayed with my sister for more than half an hour.
Rick had remained behind with Mike and drove us both to my condo. Utter exhaustion took over as I sat in the back of his car.
The next thing I knew, Mike was in my face, shaking my shoulder. “K.C., we’re here. Do you want me to carry you?”
I made it to my apartment on my own volition. Kicking off my sneakers willy-nilly, I dropped the utility belt as I walked to the bedroom, where I collapsed on my bed. I’m not even sure if Mike followed. At that point I didn’t care. All my body craved was rest, and my mind, the blinding numbness of sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JILLIAN
A high-pitched beeping drew her out of the depths of a strange dream where she’d been at school, grading a stack of papers that kept growing and growing no matter how fast she graded. She tried to open her lids, only she couldn’t seem to get her left eye to open properly, and as she came to, aches and pains in her arms, back, hip and legs announced themselves, but they were overshadowed by the grinding headache, sore throat, and dull throb in her left cheek.
Where was she? Her right eye rolled in the socket, taking in the industrial ceiling tiles and the fluorescent lighting. She lifted her left hand to touch her tender cheek and found gauze wrapped around her wrist and a plastic clip-like thing with a cord attached to her finger. Lifting her right arm, she found more gauze around that wrist, a needle and IV tube taped to her hand. She studied it in confusion and heard an indrawn breath.
“Jilly! You’re awake.” Karina came into Jillian’s line of sight and touched her forearm. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Karina?” she croaked, cleared her gritty throat and tried again, “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, sweetie. Is your throat sore? I’ve got some water. Do you want me to raise you up a bit?”
The hospital craft-o-matic bed hummed as it levered Jillian into an upright position, and she took in the rest of the room. Sunlight striped through the partially open blinds, a muted TV was turned to the HGTV channel, where a burly man sledgehammered kitchen cabinetry. The walls were painted seafoam green, and an ugly pink recliner squealed shut as Karina got up to retrieve a green-lidded cup with a bright yellow straw for Jillian.
“Here, the nurse said your throat might be sore. They had to intubate you.” Karina put the straw between Jillian’s cracked lips.
Jillian greedily sucked down the cool water, a balm against the tenderness. After gulping half the glass, she released the straw. “What happened? Was I in a car accident?”
Karina’s face pinched with concern. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Jillian concentrated, trying to recall her last memory. “I was at school, grading papers.”
“What day was that?”
“Wednesday? Thursday?” Jillian chewed her lip. “It’s kind of hazy. Why? What day is it?”
“It’s Saturday.”
Jillian could only seem to get her left eye to open halfway, and it hurt when she tried to use the muscles to get it opened wider. She lifted her fingers to explore the pain, but Karina, with the gentlest pressure, pushed Jillian’s hand aside.
“Don’t touch. It’s swollen. You’re going to be sporting a shiner for a few weeks. I think we should let the nurses know you’re awake. They’ll probably want to take your vitals and do . . . nurse things.” Karina pressed a little red call button wrapped around the bedrail.
“You haven’t told me what happened. Was it a bad accident?” Jillian’s mouth trembled. “Was it my fault? Did I kill someone?”
“No! No, good lord, no. There was no accident, Jilly. You were kidnapped.” Karina drew the rolling table up closer, so the water was within Jillian’s reach.
“Kidnapped? But—by who?” Jillian drank some more water, searching her memories for anything that happened in the past forty-eight hours. “Did it have something to do with Sadira?”
A petite African-American nurse with bright blue eye shadow and wearing yellow and white polka dot scrubs entered. Jillian turned her head and noticed the empty bed on her left for the first time.
“Good morning!” The nurse erased the name Kim from the chalkboard beneath the TV and wrote down Destinee. “That’s me, Destinee.” She smiled, removing a clipboard hanging at the foot of the bed. “Let’s get some of your vitals.” She glanced at the machines beeping behind Jillian and scribbled something on the clipboard, then she attached a Velcro cuff just above Jillian’s elbow to check her blood pressure. While the cuff squeezed, the nurse ran a thermometer across Jillian’s forehead. “Good, good.” She nodded, releasing the cuff and writing the information in the chart. “How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten, one being none and ten being excruciating?”
“Uh, maybe a six or seven. My cheek hurts. My throat is starting to feel better, but I kind of ache all over and it hurts when I take a deep breath,” Jillian said.
Destinee nodded, her pen scratching away. She
peered at Jillian, checked the IV, and clicked her tongue. “You’ve got some bruised ribs. They’ll take a few weeks to heal. I can get you an ice pack for that cheek, and we’ll get the doctor in to see you,” the nurse said, hanging the chart back on its hook.
“She can’t remember anything,” Karina said.
Destinee paused. “Anything?”
“Nothing about what happened to her.”
“What’s the last thing you remember, hon?” Destinee directed her question to Jillian.
“Being at school in my class . . . a few days ago.”
“Is that unusual, the amnesia?” Karina asked.
“It can happen.” The toothy smile returned. “Don’t worry, we’ll get the doctor in soon.” Her thick white nurse shoes squeaked against the beige tiles as she exited the room.
Jillian found her sister staring at the empty doorway, her face tight. She seemed to come back to herself and morphed her expression into a jolly smile. “Well,” she said in a chirpy falsetto, “the doctor will be able to tell us what’s what. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She adjusted the blanket around Jillian and checked her watch. “If her flight is running on time, Mom will be landing in about thirty minutes. Mike offered to pick her up and bring her to the hospital.”
“Mike? I thought he was out of town. Wait, Mom is coming?” Jillian’s world spun unexpectedly, and she squeezed her eyes shut until it passed.
“Well, she and Dad were both going to come, but Dad has finals next week. And I thought you might not want everyone converging at once,” Karina continued with the upbeat tone that put Jillian’s teeth on edge. “But it only takes one a call, and he’ll hop the next flight out.” She waggled her cell phone in the air.
“No. Mom’s enough,” Jillian grumbled, and tried shifting into a more comfortable position.
“Do you want me to adjust your pillows for you?” Karina crooned.
“I want you to stop with this false chirpy act,” Jillian groused. Karina’s face fell. “And yes, can you put that pillow behind my head?”
Karina helped her sister in silence.
As she did so, Jillian noticed the tightness around her mouth and the circles beneath her eyes. She wore no makeup. It was unheard for Karina to be in public without her war paint, and her ponytail was still damp from her morning shower. Whatever demons haunted her couldn’t be hidden from the sharp eyes—well, eye—of the sister she grew up with. “Jesus, Karina. What the hell happened? You look like hell.”