“I’m not gonna walk,” he muttered, and was out of sight before she could reply.
Thunder broke in the distance, and the rain picked up.
“A real gem at work, ain’t he?” Martin smirked.
“Oh, shut up.” She gave him a dirty look before turning to Chad.
He was waiting for her, exasperation plain on his face. Her flashlight lingered on the big shape behind him. It looked… like a car, she realized, covered with a black tarp.
“What’s this?” she hissed, picking up her pace.
“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.” He reached down and gripped the tarp’s edge, pulling it up.
Pain halted at the sight of a tall, black jeep. Eyes wide, she looked back at Chad.
He grinned. “We must’ve interrupted him when he was leaving to sneak away on foot.”
“You didn’t touch anything?”
“No.”
“Great, call Skull. We need forensics. Could be prints in there.” She paused, looking around in confusion. “Where’s Dave and the other one?”
Chad grimaced, waving his hand at the car. When she circled it, she found Dave and Elena making out in the corner.
“Dave!” she barked, startling them. She pinned Elena with her gaze, hooking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate Martin. “If this can’t get him out of your mouth at least for a minute, I don’t know what will.”
The girl blushed and stepped away from Dave but didn’t let go of his hand.
“Get away from the car,” Pain ordered before returning to Chad.
He was on the phone with Skull, so she turned her attention to the big room, scanning it with her flashlight for anything else of interest. Martin was watching them, still like a black statue in the shadows. She suppressed a sigh and walked back to him.
“You should go.” When he didn’t move, she said, “Anyway, why are you after this gang?”
He squinted at her with contempt when she pointed the flashlight at his face. “They got a couple of my men.”
“Why haven’t you responded to Peter’s message?”
Martin let out a snort. “Do you see what we’re up to? You think anyone’s checked those messages lately?”
“What do you know about them? Any ideas?”
“They drive black jeeps, they wear black tactical clothes and sometimes masks. That’s about it. You?”
“The same. Our backup will be here in a minute, so go. I don’t want your men stomping all over the place and whatever leads we can find here.”
Martin headed to the exit without another word. He was almost by the door when she cursed under her breath and called out, “They use tasers!” He stopped, turning his head a little, even though he knew that already. “Don’t shield if you run into them, or they’ll fry your ass.”
There was no response. She blinked, and he was gone.
Marco’s words about Martin and the Commandos had made her uneasy. She needed to speak to Marco, now.
Chad appeared at her side. “Did he say Marcus?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You didn’t seem surprised. You knew Marco had family, didn’t you?”
She took a deep breath before looking up into his eyes. “Yes.”
* * *
Jane squeezed Ryan’s cool hand with a sigh.
“He’ll be all right,” Doc said for the tenth time, an amused smile playing on his lips.
“I know.” She nodded but didn’t move from her place in the hard plastic chair.
The infirmary was quiet. Only three beds were occupied: Ryan and Zac asleep, and Chris in a coma, a white bandage covering his partly shaved head.
The dark circles around Doc’s eyes hinted at many sleepless nights. His hair was longer than usual, and his jaw dark with stubble, shot with gray here and there. He’d lost weight, and his already sharp cheekbones stood out even more now, making him look devilish.
Doc turned to her, and she looked away, uncomfortable under his dark, unblinking gaze.
“It’s just his arm,” Doc reminded her again, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Go get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“I gotta swing by the office first. Found something tonight,” she said with a yawn.
He perked up. “Like what?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Show me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tell you what—I’ll trade it with you.”
“For what?”
“The last piece of gossip.”
He gasped and went as far as to put a hand on his chest. “I don’t gossip.”
“Please. Gossip is all you do.”
Doc frowned but gave in. “All right, here’s one: They say there’s a man in Santa Fe who can kill with a touch of his hand.”
“That’s bullshit,” Jane said with a grimace. “You just made that up.”
“No, I did not. Cross my heart.” He didn’t sound convincing, but she let it go.
He stepped closer, eyes glowing in anticipation, as she dug into her pocket. Doc grabbed the plastic baggie the moment it was out, and scurried off to the lamp, hunching and muttering to himself. She was sure she’d heard the words “My precious.”
“What’s this?” He turned to her after a second, a grimace on his face.
“It’s a key, obviously. I found it in the alley where we lost the man we’d been following.”
“That’s it?” His voice shot up an octave. “You found a dirty key, and you think it’s a clue? I’m never telling you any gossip again.”
She snatched it out of his hand. “Yeah, well, your gossip was crap, so…” She trailed off, peering at the faded plastic label on the key. “What’s this number?”
Doc bent over the desk again as Jane turned it in her hand, trying to see better through the transparent plastic.
“Looks like one twenty-six…” he said. “Yes, definitely. Did you happen to find the lock, too?” he mocked her, and she swatted at him, straightening up.
“Very funny. See ya.”
She headed straight to Peter’s
