Page 9 of Tapped

“Evita.” My name is a razor cutting through the haze. It’s demanding, and I struggle to pry my eyes open despite the unfamiliar and overwhelming exhaustion that blankets me. Blue eyes, that were the last thing I saw before my vision tunneled to black, are frowning at me from above. “You okay?”

I swallow over the lump in my throat and shake my head. “Chase. I need my son.”

He shifts me from his arms, and my back hits the floor. I struggle to push away, but he splays a hand under my breasts to hold me down. “Stay where you are. I don’t need you to hit your head. EMS is on the way to check you out.”

“No. Let me up. I texted the sitter but I need to call her. I need to know Chase is okay.”

“Cruz, did you find the sitter and the boy?”

The radio crackles and beeps again. “We’ve got eyes on them and are following them to the house. We’ll be there in a few.”

The man drops the radio on the wood floor next to me. He’s leaning on one hand next to my head, leering over me from above. “Your son is safe. My partner will make sure of it.”

I exhale and bring my hands to my face. I’m trembling, and it doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of summer on the southern tip of Florida. I’m freezing.

“Take a deep breath. We’ll have the paramedics check you out, but I really need to talk to you about your husband.”

I shake my head before looking up at the man who just rocked my world in the worst way. “What’s your name again?”

“Emmett. Micah Emmett.”

“I passed out. Cancel the ambulance. Once I lay here for a second, I’ll be fine.”

Micah shakes his head. “Can’t do that. This is to cover my ass. If you pass out again, and I’m not here to catch you, that’ll be on me. My day already turned to shit seeing as the case I’ve been building for two years just blew up. I’m looking at a week’s worth of reports as it is. You bleeding all over me is one I don’t want to add to my list.”

It turns out reality is as much of an asshole as guilt is. “Why do you think Jeff is trying to kill me?”

He hikes a thick brow. “I don’t think, I know.”

I try to sit up again. “He’s a horrible dad and husband, but he’s not a murderer—”

He pushes me back to the floor, and this time, he leaves his hand firmly planted on my abs. “Look, hiring a hitman doesn’t happen often. In fact, this is the first time a murder-for-hire has blown up one of my cases. I guess you could call us both virgins when it comes to this. You’re in the denial stage ofmy husband paid to have me murdered, but you need to take this seriously until we find out who he paid and eliminate that threat. I get that you’re not happy about it. Hell, I’m not either. I’ve got two years of work on the line, but when someone’s life is threatened, I’m obligated by the government to intervene. Besides, I don’t need this on my conscience. I might be an asshole but not that kind.”

“I’ve been in denial about my marriage for a long time, but this is unbelievable. This doesn’t happen in real life—or at least my life. I want to know how you know for sure.”

Sirens sound in the distance, proof that my life is about to drop to a new low. I might be great at caring for my patients, but like most doctors, I hate being the patient. I do not want anyone examining me. “I want to know how you’re so sure.”

He presses in where his hand is splayed on me as his jaw goes hard. He says nothing, and the sirens get louder and louder before they cut off altogether.

“You can’t just show up at my home and tell me my husband wants to kill me with no proof. I’m a doctor. I don’t believe in anything blindly.”

“Since the contract was paid in full this morning, I’d put my faith in the fact this was brought to your attention and you need to do everything in your power to protect yourself and your son until we know the killer isn’t a threat anymore.”

My head has quit spinning from my first ever unexpected syncope. Given my job and the family I was raised in, I’m a controlled person by nature. Nothing catches me by surprise, and I’m always prepared for the worst.

Test results.

PET scans.

EKGs.

Unrealistic family expectations.

You know … all the biggies when it comes to life-changing events.

It’s not only the way I was educated, but the way I was raised. There is very little I’m unequipped to deal with.

“Proof over faith, Agent Emmett. Jeff is a shit husband and an uninterested father. Unfortunately, men like him are not few nor are they far between. But a murderer? That’s going to take some convincing.”

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