horror from the past threatening to drag her under. She lost any sense of time, aware only of Javier and the thrum of her own pulse.
A knock.
“Paramedics!”
“They’re here,
Two men in paramedic uniforms entered, both carrying red medical kits.
“She’s got some abrasions, and I think she’s in shock—acute stress reaction,” Javier said.
The paramedics knelt down beside her. “You’ve had a rough night, but we’re going to check you over and take good care of you, Ms. Nilsson.”
One of them clipped something to the end of her finger and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her left arm, puffing it up until it was tight.
But Laura wasn’t the one who needed help. She tried to draw away. “Go to Janet—Agent Killeen. She’s been shot.”
Javier took her right hand and leaned in close where she could see him. “There’s already a team with her, Laura. These men are here to help
They were here to help her? There was nothing wrong with her.
“I-I’m fine.”
None of them seemed to agree with her.
“Those contusions aren’t serious, but she’s definitely shocky. Pulse is ninety-eight. BP is seventy-five over forty.”
“We’ll get some fluids in her, give her some IV Ativan and some oxygen, and get her under transport.”
It took a moment for their words to hit her, but when they did, she shook her head.
“No. I’m not going to the hospital.”
“You’re in shock,
“No! Take me home. I just want to go home.”
IT WAS ALMOST midnight by the time they reached The Ironworks and parked in the secured underground garage. Zach opened Laura’s door, Javier meeting her at the rear of the vehicle. Marc and Julian pulled into a visitor’s space near Laura’s car, which sat looking abandoned and forlorn, not having been driven in almost a week. Two other unmarked vehicles, each carrying two deputy marshals, slowly circled the garage, while the security detail that had her building under surveillance kept watch on the street.
She ought to feel safe, but she didn’t. Maybe it was recounting the details of what had happened for Alex for his news story. Or maybe it was just stress or exhaustion. Regardless, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that had crept over her. She felt hunted, the world closing in around her.
They walked to the elevator, Laura sandwiched between the men, their footfalls sharp against the concrete floor, the echo eerie. She pushed the elevator call button, and they waited.
Laura gasped, jumped.
It was just the elevator car arriving.
Javier slipped an arm around her waist.
She let herself lean into him, needing him, needing his strength, his confidence. How could anyone live with this kind of violence as part of his job? She glanced up at the men around her, each of them willing to risk his life for hers, each of them ready and able to kill, each of them . . . so much taller than she was.
She let out a laugh, surprising herself as much as anyone else.
“What’s funny?” Javier asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been the shortest person in the room before.”
The men didn’t say a word, but Laura saw grins on their faces.
The elevator door opened, and they stepped out, crossing the small hallway to her door. Laura fished in her handbag and drew out her keys.
Zach held out his hand. “Hunter, you and I will clear the place. You two stay here with Laura.”
Laura gave him the keys and waited, Javier and Julian beside her. She heard the click of the dead bolt and looked up to see Kathleen Parker and her husband peering out of their front door.
“Yes, I’m still alive. I know you don’t want me here, but this is my home.”
The door shut hard, the bolt turning with a quiet
“What the hell was that about?” Julian asked.
Laura was about to explain, but Javier beat her to it. “The day after the car bomb, Ms. Nosy Yoga Pants there came over to tell Laura that she and her hubby and some other folks in the building would sleep better at night if Laura sold her flat and moved somewhere else.”
“I guess I can understand why they’re nervous, but seriously?” Julian rested a hand on Laura’s shoulder. “Sorry you had to put up with that, Laura.”
Zach returned. “The place is clear.”
Laura walked inside—and stepped on something. She looked down to find a large manila envelope with her name on it lying on the floor. Pretty sure she knew what it was, she bent over and snatched it up, tucking it beneath her arm.
But Javier had seen. “What was that?”
“Oh, just some files I requested.” She hoped he would assume she was talking about her job. “You all feel free to make yourselves comfortable. Grab whatever you want from the kitchen. I’m going to take a shower and call my mother.”
She walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She set her purse aside and looked down at the envelope. There on the front, Agent Killeen had printed her name with black marker.
Poor Janet!
Laura sat on the edge of her bed, ran her fingers over the letters, and found herself blinking back tears. Janet had fought to stay on Laura’s protection detail and had ended up taking a bullet for it. Was she out of surgery yet? How badly had she been hurt?
What if Javier had been shot, too? What if he’d been killed?
Laura couldn’t stand to think about it, the very idea making her stomach knot.
And suddenly she felt weary to the bone.
She was tired of being afraid, tired of seeing good people get hurt and killed, tired of feeling like every day was an uphill battle. Life had been challenging enough just trying to put body and soul back together, hold down a job, and find Klara.
But now . . .
What had happened today had reopened something dark inside her, punctured a deep hole in her sense of self, and exposed the brokenness that was still inside her. For a time, she’d been shut down. She hadn’t been able to think clearly.
Had she made any true progress? How could she still be a prisoner of this terror?
Would it?
Laura got to her feet, tucked the thick envelope into one of her drawers, then walked toward the bathroom.
JAVIER HEARD THE water go on in the shower and nodded to the others.
McBride spoke first. “Our guys found Derek Tower with a bullet in his chest on the top level of the parking garage. He was armed—an HK Mark 23 and a tricked-out AR-15 that was loaded with five-five-six green tip.”
Armor-penetrating rounds.
“Is he dead?”
McBride shook his head. “He’s in surgery at University Hospital. No word on his condition, but it doesn’t look good.”
