Page 39 of A Dead Man's Pulse
The sound of the hospital room door opening had Tiny waking in an instant, his hand reaching for the gun on his hip, but he relaxed when Special Agent Nikita Novik strode in, looking as gorgeous as the first time he’d seen her at The Covenant. However, instead of the casual clothes, today she was in a standard, professional, dark suit, which couldn’t hide her luscious curves—or the fact she was packing heat in a shoulder holster under the jacket. “How’s she doing?”
“No change,” he replied, wiping the last of the sleep from his eyes. He’d been at Georgia’s side for almost the entire time since she’d been out of surgery—only taking time off to go home and shower before returning. The Sawyer brothers had arranged for a large, private suite in the hospital for the submissive—complete with a couch, recliners, and refrigerator—so at least Tiny was comfortable. It helped they made considerable donations to the facility every year.
The doctors had relieved the pressure on Georgia’s brain but couldn’t say when or if she would wake up. Each day that passed, he grew more worried she would never recover. While there were FBI agents rotating shifts outside the room, Tiny had been granted permission to also stand guard. Aside from members of law enforcement and Trident Security, Georgia’s brother and parents, and medical personal, no one else was allowed in to see her.
Mr. and Mrs. Branneth had arrived in Tampa late last night and, after visiting the hospital, had gone with their son to a nearby hotel where Colleen had booked them rooms for the duration of their stay. They’d probably be returning in a few hours.
“Excuse me for saying, but you look like hell.”
He grunted as he flipped the handle of the recliner he’d been sleeping in, returning it to an upright position, noting it was still dark outside the window. “Probably because that’s how I feel. What time is it?”
“Oh two hundred.” Her gaze softened. “It’s not your fault, Travis.”
She’d asked him what his full name was, after he’d returned from giving his report at the FBI building, and was the only person, other than his mother, who’d called him Travis in recent years. He refused to examine her reasoning too closely—there were far too many other things on his mind at the moment. “Yeah, it is. I should have searched the interior of the house. I should have checked under the bed and opened every closet before—”
The agent held up her hand to stop his recap of everything he’d failed to do. “We have no idea if he was already in the house when she got home or if he gained access afterward.” Stepping closer, she frowned at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. “And who knows, maybe he would have shot or stabbed you if you’d gone in and found him there. You’re not invincible and have to stop kicking your own ass over this. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. I see it all the—”
Her words were cut off when the EKG monitor attached to Georgia began beeping faster and louder. Tiny leaped to his feet and rushed over. “Georgia, honey, it’s Tiny. Can you hear me?” She couldn’t verbally answer him with the tube down her throat, which was hooked up to a ventilator to help her breathe, but she’d definitely heard him as her head turned toward him. Her wrists fought the restraints tying her arms down, and he laid a reassuring hand on the one closest to him. “Georgia, sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re at the hospital, and you’re safe. If you can hear me, open your eyes.”
The door to the room swung open, and two nurses hurried in. While one of the nurses silenced the annoying monitor, the other pulled out a penlight and shined it in her patient’s eyes. Georgia winced and tried unsuccessfully to get away from the bright light. She blinked a few times and tried to lift her hands toward the tube in her mouth. “Georgia, I’m your nurse, Teresa. You’ve been intubated to help you to breathe, so just try to relax. Can you blink if you understand me?”
She stilled, then to Tiny’s relief, she blinked her eyes several times, even though her gaze was unfocused. The nurse patted her arm. “Excellent. Diane, can you call the surgeon and see if we can have a respiratory therapist remove the tube?” The other nurse nodded and left the room. “Georgia, we’ll get it out as soon as we can. In the meantime, can you squeeze my hand?”
While the nurse continued her command-and-response examination, Tiny stepped back and pulled out his phone, quickly shooting off a group text to Ian, Devon, and Mitch. As he was typing, a soft, ivory hand touched his dark arm, and he lifted his gaze to Nikita’s. “I’m glad your friend’s going to be okay, Travis.”
The corners of his mouth ticked upward. “Thanks. So am I. Now I just hope she can tell us who the hell did this to her, so I can go kill the motherfucker. Excuse my language, but there’s no other way I can think of describing him.”
“I agree with the MF, but as for the other part . . .” She grinned. “Well, actually, I didn’t hear anything after ‘So am I.’ You know, just in case I’m asked about it if the guy turns up dead.”
Well, damn, he was beginning to like Special Agent Nikita Novik more and more. He was about to do something stupid, like ask her out in the middle of her case, but his phone rang. Ian and his bloody timing struck again.
Logan parked in a space close to Dakota’s unit and grabbed the sack of food and two fountain sodas before exiting his SUV. The food run had taken a little longer than expected because he’d stopped at a fender-bender to make sure everyone was okay after seeing a young woman holding an infant. The cops hadn’t been on scene yet, so he stayed with her and the idiot driving the car that rear-ended her until they arrived. The poor woman had been driving around, trying to get the baby asleep—ironically, the kid snoozed through all the excitement.
He hoped Dakota’s roommate had gone to bed because he hadn’t thought to stop and ask if she wanted anything from the diner. As far as Doms went, he was a work in progress. His mind had been elsewhere, otherwise he would’ve offered to treat the other woman to a late-night meal as well. He blamed it on the fact he was still trying to wrap his head around being in love with an amazing woman who loved him back. If Dakota was asleep, he was looking forward to waking her up, one kiss at a time. He’d start with her toes and work his way up her luscious body.
Nearing the condo, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he slowed, scanning his surroundings. When he didn’t see anyone else, he took another few steps to the door, his senses on full alert. Something on the concrete in front of the welcome mat caught his eye. The smeared dark substance registered just as the acrid aroma of blood reached his nose. It was fresh, leading straight to the door, and hadn’t been there when he’d left.
Placing the food and drinks off to the side, Logan slid his weapon from the holster at the small of his back. He didn’t need to check if it was loaded, but did finger the safety, making sure it was in the right position so the gun was ready to fire as he tried to turn the doorknob. It was locked so he retrieved Dakota’s keys from his pocket.
Unlocking the door, he tossed the keys to the soft grass next to where the food was, then pulled out his cell phone. When the 9-1-1 operator answered, Logan kept his voice low. “This is Logan Reese from Trident Security. Task force officers need assistance . . .” He rattled off the address. “Possible officer down. Contact SOD and the FBI. Tell responding officers not to shoot the guy wearing tan cargo pants and a black T-shirt—that’s me and I’m armed.”
Through the phone, he heard the information being dispatched. “All units, all units, clear all radio traffic. Possible officer down. Available units respond to . . .”
Knowing help was on the way, Logan stuck the phone in his pocket without disconnecting the call. This way the dispatcher could monitor what was going on even if it would be muffled.
Turning the knob, he eased the door open, but it didn’t go very far—something was blocking it. His gaze fell to the floor of the foyer. Gina Harvey’s lifeless eyes stared back at him, blood soaked into the carpet around her head. She was beyond his help, and he put it out of his mind for the moment, concentrating on getting to Dakota. Pushing harder on the door, he was able to make enough room to squeeze through. He paused long enough to hear the sounds of a struggle coming from one of the bedrooms. It took everything in him to use caution as he approached. Getting himself killed wouldn’t help him save the woman he loved.
Leading with his weapon, he hurried down the empty hall with a quick check of the dark bathroom and the bedroom Gina had been using. As he reached the door to Dakota’s room, a loud crack sounded from behind it. The blood drained from Logan’s face as he froze. His mind started to leave the here and now, returning to his Afghani prison, but a scream of fury and pain slammed him back to the present. Dakota needed him, and he wasn’t going to fail her.
Gripping his weapon in both hands, he lifted his foot and kicked the door in, spinning into the room and finding his target. As a man on the other side of the bed spun toward him, Logan’s brain didn’t even register that he was familiar. All he saw was the bastard’s hand coming up with a black handgun, aiming it in his direction. With muscle memory, Logan’s body reacted, everything appearing to happen in slow motion. A split second was all it took to aim and shoot, but as his weapon fired two shots in rapid succession, horror coursed through him as Dakota lunged for her attacker whose weapon also went off. That bullet went wide, hitting the wall two feet to Logan’s right, as the killer and Dakota both fell to the floor.
Fear unlike anything he’d ever experienced, not even in that hellhole on the other side of the world, came over Logan. Rushing forward, he kept his weapon pointed at the killer, but the man didn’t move. One of Logan’s bullets had struck him in the upper arm, however, the other had been straight and true, hitting the bastard between the eyes and killing him instantly.
Kicking the gun from the lifeless hand, he turned his attention to Dakota. She was unconscious, and his gut roiled as he saw all the blood and damage to her nude body, but the worst was the bullet hole above her left breast.
Sirens signaled the arrival of emergency vehicles pulling into the condo complex as he dropped to his knees beside her with a kernel of hope as he saw her chest rise with an inhalation. Yanking off his T-shirt, he pressed it into the wound to staunch the flow of blood. “C’mon, baby, stay with me. Don’t let me lose you too.”
When he heard voices and police radios squawking from the vicinity of the front door, he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Officer down, officer down! Get a damn bus!”
