Page 40 of A Dead Man's Pulse
Having rolled out of bed after receiving Tiny’s text, and then speaking to him on the phone, Ian and Devon burst into the private hospital suite, anxious to see that The Covenant submissive was indeed awake and on the road to recovery. They also hoped she’d be able to give them information about her kidnapper. In addition to Tiny, Mitch, Agent Novik, SAC Parrish, and Georgia’s parents and brother, her surgeon, nurse, and a respiratory therapist were present. Even though it was one of the biggest rooms in the hospital, with that many people, it was a tight fit. They were all waiting on pins and needles for the man in blue scrubs to remove the patient’s breathing tube. Georgia was clearly uncomfortable and wanted the thing out as soon as possible. After using a syringe to deflate the small balloon around the plastic cannula, that was holding it in place, the therapist gently pulled the entire thing from her throat.
Standing at the end of the bed, Mr. Branneth touched his daughter’s foot through her blanket, his other arm was wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. Happy and relieved tears stained the older woman’s cheeks. They’d have plenty of time to comfort and pamper her with love after Ian and the others had the information they hoped she could provide. Ian was sure they’d be talking about a lot of other things too. As a cop, it hadn’t taken rocket science for her brother to figure out she’d been kidnapped by the serial killer targeting submissives—something he hadn’t known about his sister. Neither had her parents. The Covenant Doms would do what they could to help her explain everything to them, if she needed it. Finding out your sister or daughter was into BDSM wasn’t something most people wanted to hear if they didn’t understand the lifestyle. But stopping the bastard before he could take someone else was their top priority at the moment.
Georgia winced and coughed as the tube slid from her mouth. The nurse held a small plastic cup with water to her lips. “Just take a sip to wet your tongue and throat.”
Doing as she was told, Georgia coughed a few more times as she tried to get her voice working again. “What—what happened?” she rasped harshly, her gaze going from one person to the next.
As the nurse moved away, Parrish stepped into the space she’d occupied near the patient’s head. “Georgia, I’m Special Agent in Charge Colt Parrish. Can you tell us what you remember?”
She frowned. “I-I don’t know—” Her words were cut off as her eyes widened in fear. It was evident something had popped into her mind. Something that scared the fucking hell out of her.
Ian reached for her hand that the respiratory therapist had freed moments earlier, and squeezed, then tried to keep the urgency from his voice. “It’s okay, little one. You’re safe among your family and friends. I swear no one will hurt you. Tell us what happened. Do you know who took you?”
God, please let her know!
Her wide-eyed gaze met his gentle one. “D-Dennis.” She swallowed hard. “Master Dennis.”
Fuck!
Stunned, Ian was about to ask if she was sure, when his cell phone chirped in his hand, at the same time Devon and Parrish’s did. Glancing at the screen, the blood drained from his face.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Two
His hands on top of his head, Logan paced back and forth in the hallway outside the emergency room they were treating Dakota in. He was still shirtless, covered in her blood, and probably looked like a mad man. She was still alive, that’s all he knew, having held her hand for the entire ambulance ride, letting go only when forced to as they wheeled her into the trauma room. Back at the condo, he’d barely had a moment to yank the covers off the bed and cover her naked body before her fellow officers burst into the room. Only once the paramedics arrived had he backed away to give them some room, then handed his weapon to the first TPD supervisor on scene. They’d need it for the investigation, but he knew what they’d find—it was his bullet that had hit Dakota.
“Cowboy!” Ian stepped in front of his path. How he’d gotten there so fast was beyond Logan’s thinking right then. In fact, Devon, Mitch, Tiny, Agent Novik, and SAC Parrish were there already. “What happened?”
Tears filled his eyes. “I shot her! I fucking shot her, Ian!”
“Shit,” the man spat in a low voice before grabbing Logan’s upper arm and dragging him into an empty treatment room, away from the growing crowd of police officers. “Someone get him a shirt and towel he can clean up with.”
Logan shook his head vehemently. He didn’t want to clean the blood off himself. It was hers, and he’d been the one to spill it. “I shot her, man.”
“Okay, you said that—I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose. Now tell us what happened.”
He hadn’t realized Parrish, Novik, and Captain Bowman, who’d just arrived, had followed them into the room and shut the door. They silently gave him a moment, letting him roam the small room as best he could. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “It was Dennis Hardwick, your bartender.”
“We know,” Devon answered, stopping Logan in his tracks. “Georgia Branneth woke up a little while ago and told us right before we got the notifications of an officer down.”
Officer down. His officer. His partner. His woman.
Swallowing hard, he sat on the edge of the unoccupied gurney. A knock at the door had the female fed stepping to the side and opening it. Someone handed her a scrub shirt and towel, before the door shut once more. Logan took both when she offered them to him, but he tossed the towel aside and just pulled the shirt on. “We—Dakota and I—are sort of seeing each other.” If anyone was surprised about that small bomb, they didn’t show it. “We were hungry after the shift, so I ran out to a diner not far from her condo. Gina—Agent Harvey was driving into the lot as I was pulling out. I was gone about twenty—twenty-five minutes, tops. I stopped at a fender bender, otherwise I would’ve been back sooner. Shit!” He thrust his fingers through his already unruly hair in frustration. He’d just realized if he’d returned sooner, he probably wouldn’t have been able to save the federal agent but may have saved Dakota a lot of pain and fear . . . and not shot her.
“Easy. Don’t Monday morning quarterback,” Parrish said. “What happened when you got back to the condo?”
He knew they just needed the short version here—a detailed investigation into the shooting would come later in the day. “There was blood on the ground in front of their condo that hadn’t been there when I left. I ditched the food and used Dakota’s key to unlock the door. Agent Harvey’s body was partially blocking it in the foyer. She’d been shot in the head.” His gaze met Parrish’s. “I’m sorry.”
The man gave him a stoic nod, clearly having been alerted to her line-of-duty death already.
“I drew my weapon . . . heard him attacking Dakota in her bedroom . . . kicked the door in. He turned toward me, weapon up, we both fired.”
“So, he shot her, or you did?” the SAC asked, trying to make sure he understood everything correctly.
“I did! Damn it!” He stood and started pacing again. “I fired twice. One hit him between the eyes, the other was a through-and-through on his upper arm. It must have deflected and hit her when she lunged at him—probably to save me. She’d hit his arm, sending his shot wide. Next thing I knew, they were both on the ground.”
“Who called the cops?”
