Shady Lady

right?”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. Surprised to see you.”

His boss smiled. “I was in the neighborhood, felt like stopping by. You want to tell me what happened?”

“I suspect this was a reprisal related to the death of Nathan Moon and the destruction of a key human- trafficking facility belonging to the Montoya cartel.”

So that was how he spun it. Well, it fit the facts, more or less. He just wasn’t the intended target. But I had my answer, didn’t I? Even with a bullet in his side, Jesse Saldana chose to protect me, even if it meant lying to his boss.

“Are you telling me the cartel’s put a price on your head, son?”

Jesse looked his boss square in the eye and lied. “Yes, sir.”

“Then after you leave the hospital, you’re heading for a safe house.”

Alarm flashed in his dark brown eyes. I knew exactly what he was thinking—that if he got locked up for his own protection, I’d be on my own. “That won’t be necessary. I can handle this.”

“The hell you can. They shot up your apartment, and it was damn lucky they didn’t catch you sleeping. No, we’ll take it from here. Sooner or later, one of Montoya’s men will roll, tell us when he’s gonna be in the country next, and then we’ll have him.”

I didn’t think that was likely, but it was also better I didn’t draw attention to myself. As the paramedics helped Jesse from the couch onto the gurney, the lieutenant walking alongside, Jesse cast a desperate look over his shoulder. I smiled at him, telling him wordlessly that it was okay. Since he belonged to a brotherhood, this development didn’t surprise me.

A cop came over to take my statement. I stuck with Jesse’s story, since it made sense. No, I hadn’t seen anything. I was hiding behind the couch the whole time—and how that rankled. Demons I could deal with, but I could do nothing about men with guns. I so needed to learn how to use a weapon.

“We’re all set here,” the cop said at last. “If we need anything else, we’ll call you.”

I’d given him my cell number, since I didn’t have a physical address. “Will it be okay if I take Jesse’s Forester to see how he’s doing? I don’t have my car here.” Or anywhere—I didn’t own one. “What hospital did they take him to?”

“Let me find out.” He got on the phone and a minute later he said, “Doctors Hospital. Need the address?”

“Please.”

Silently, I chafed with the need to find out what had happened at Chuch’s place as well, but I scrawled the address with a murmur of thanks. I snagged Jesse’s keys from the hook beside the door. A crime-scene crew was setting up their gear as I left. Blood spattered the place and bullet holes dotted the wall, testifying to the fact that the bad guys had come in with guns blazing.

If not for Butch, they might’ve caught us on the couch, as we’d been moments before. Easy pickings. Jesse had time to get his weapon and take a strategic position, thanks to the dog’s early warning. I rubbed his head and he nuzzled my hand. Butch seemed just as upset about Jesse and maybe even worried about Chuch, Eva, and Shannon. There was no telling how much he knew or understood. Sometimes I had the feeling it might surprise me.

With lead in my stomach, I punched the address into the GPS. Though I wasn’t supposed to drive and dial, I called Chuch’s cell. No answer—it went straight to voice mail. I fought down the fear. If anything happened to them, it’d be my fault. Escobar had claimed he would protect me, but I didn’t see much evidence of it, apart from the amulet, which offered no aid against mundane attack.

And then I remembered what he’d said: It will drive Montoya mad when his sorcerer fails . . . and fails and fails. He’ll contact you, if I know him at all. I really was bait. Not once or when I removed the amulet. Escobar had fully expected this, so in a way, he was still testing me. If I survived long enough to drive Montoya over the edge, he’d use me—if not, no big loss. I shouldn’t be surprised; Escobar was the coldest son of a bitch I’d ever met.

It didn’t take long to reach the hospital, a blocky gold building designed in modern style. I parked, ran through the parking lot and into the lobby. At the information desk, I asked, “Do you know where they took Jesse Saldana?”

“Are you family?”

“No.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t give you any information.”

I set my jaw. “I was with him when he was shot. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll create the granddaddy of all scenes. Want to find out how loud I scream?”

“Girlfriend, then. That’s close enough.” Her worried smile said she thought I might start yelling anyway. “Ah, yes. He’s being prepped for surgery.”

That couldn’t be as ominous as it sounded. I went up to the waiting room nonetheless and tried Chuch again. He picked up this time.

“Is everyone okay?”

“They didn’t stay.” He sounded weird, subdued. “Just fired a few warning shots. I got the fire department out here now.”

Fire department—

“Oh, no,” I breathed.

“I gotta go. Eva’s crying.” The stark simplicity of his grief hit me like a fist.

They’d burned his house down. A Molotov cocktail would do the job. I could see the scene all too clearly, and it filled me with white-hot rage: everything they’d achieved in their lives, gone, and all the work on the nursery, destroyed.

I could handle being hunted. In one form or another, I was used to it, but when they targeted women and unborn babies, they went too far. I was staring at my hands, trying to figure out my next move, when someone cleared his throat.

Glancing up, I saw Jesse’s lieutenant standing before me. “No organ damage but they have to go in, remove the bullet, and do a little repair work.” He sat down beside me. “I’m his boss, Lieutenant Glencannon. Try not to worry about him.”

I kept my hands laced in my lap, hiding the scars and brands. People always viewed my palms as evidence that there was something wrong with me. And there was, just not in the way they thought.

“Thanks.” I didn’t know what he wanted, but when cops paid attention to me, apart from Jesse, it seldom ended well.

“So you’re the girlfriend?” he asked in a musing tone.

“I guess.” The relationship was too new for me to feel comfortable discussing it with his superior. God, we’d barely agreed to try when Jesse wound up taking a bullet for me. Shit, if I’d ever doubted it, I was poison. Maybe I should aim myself at Kel, because he could survive me.

“You haven’t visited him at the station . . . and he doesn’t have any pictures of you in his office.”

Now I felt like he was leading up to an interrogation. “I travel a lot . . . and we haven’t been together long.” Massive understatement.

“Well, don’t let tonight put you off,” he said. “While there’s always a certain risk in dating a cop, it’s usually not quite like this.”

No shit. But I finally got it. He was being paternal and protective because he thought my bowed head and silence hinted at shock or traumatic stress.

“I’m just afraid for him,” I said quietly. “You’ll make sure nobody can get to him, won’t you?”

“My word on it. I’ll post guards on his hospital room, and when he’s recovered enough, I’ll oversee his transfer myself.” He hesitated. “You understand, for security reasons, you won’t be permitted any contact with him while he’s in protective custody.”

If he expected me to pitch a fit, he was mistaken. “I understand.”

Whatever else he might have said was forestalled by the arrival of a woman who could only be Jesse’s mother. She looked exactly as he’d described her: small, brown, and round like a partridge. Her dark hair stood on end, and her makeup had smeared from the tears. A tall, lean man trailed in her wake; I saw more resemblance to Jesse in him. I stood as they approached the waiting area.