Page 38 of Afraid to Hope

Natasha shifted away.

Bane shook his head. “Hand me the field dressing. Please. I need to take care of the through and through.” He gave Rafiq an angry look. “This fucker has spoiled my plans for the evening.”

Another hammering on the door announced the arrival of the director. Natasha disposed of her gloves quickly and rushed to let him in, forgetting she was still in her pj’s and Bane’s sweatshirt until after she opened the door.

“Sir.”

Emmet’s eyes skimmed over the sweatshirt she wore. “It appears you and your husband have had quite an evening.” A small group of men filed in behind him and waited.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Natasha said to the men and crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed, wanting to flee upstairs and change her clothes. “Um, yes sir. We did what we could.”

“Where is Rafiq?”

“The kitchen. Straight ahead, all the way to the back,” she answered, indicating with her hand. Two medics entered, passing quickly, guiding a stretcher stacked with medical supplies and equipment.

“Emmet,” Bane said, coming toward them, reaching to shake the director’s hand. “A lot of excitement around here. This won’t take long?”

“No, the cleaners are quite efficient.” He addressed the men still waiting behind him. “Please sterilize the Ruas’ kitchen”—he scowled and waved his hand at the evident blood trail—“and the splatter. Double-check the walls and furniture for any spray or droplets.” He turned back to Natasha. “They do an excellent job. Please inform Matilda of what needs to be replaced or if anything needs to be resanitized.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Emmet closed the front door. “Did Rafiq talk at all?”

“No.” Bane scrubbed his hand over his beard, then inhaled. “Let’s talk in our office, out of the commotion.” He pointed to one of the double-dooredbâytson the other side of the atrium. “I’ll be back.”

Natasha flooded the elongated room with soft lantern light before entering and waited silently with Emmet, closing the wooden doors after Bane returned with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of water and set them on the desk. She dropped into a chair full of colorful mismatched pillows of various sizes—belying how dark the evening had become—and massaged her temples.

Bane poured a glass for each of them, passing them around. “Drink,” he ordered Natasha.

She drained it in one swallow.

“Did you hear any of the shots?” Emmet asked.

“Neither of us did.” Bane refilled Natasha’s glass and handed it to her. He stood next to her and sipped from his, leaning down to squeeze her shoulder. “Emmet, Nasir kept to our cover, pounded on the door and yelled for Mr. Rua and Dr. Rua. Beyond my concern for him is why he was shot and why so close to our residence.”

“This is extremely disconcerting. We need to find out what the hell is going on, if this incident is related to your assignment or only coincidental.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence. Everything in me is screaming that this is related to our mission. We need to discover how and why. We don’t want to be blindsided. Or worse.” Bane handed Emmet the two Ziploc bags. “Here’s his ID and the bullet. As you can see, the bullet I extracted is in one piece. It’s a .45. Just nicked his brachial.”

Emmet lifted the bag to eye level and peered at the bullet. “That is a nasty bit of business. We’ll see if forensics can get a match with this slug.”

Bane nodded. “The second shot was a through and through. Nasir lost his strength fast. He was out cold shortly after we got him to the kitchen. I’ve no idea where he was shot, how much blood he lost, or how in the hell he knew to come here. We applied a pressure bandage. I stitched him up and packed him too.”

“Nice work, Bane. Doctor. We will talk to Nasir as soon as he is conscious.” Emmet’s gaze moved between them. “Nothing compromised?”

“No, sir,” Natasha responded, standing and stretching. She felt better after drinking water, and sitting did her no good when her mind and body were on full alert.

“Not that we know of,” Bane said at the same time.

Natasha didn’t miss the naked interest in his gaze.

Emmet nodded, his eyes bouncing between Bane and Natasha. “Excellent.”

Bane grinned. “My wife looks good in one of my favorites, doesn’t she?” He wrapped an arm around Natasha and pulled her close to him. “It’s getting late. We need to turn in.”

Natasha tried to smile through her grimace. “I doubt I will be able to sleep.”

The director watched them with fascination, then looked past Bane and Natasha to the stretcher. Tubes snaked from pouches into Rafiq’s body.

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