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AFTER DONNING THE HOSPITAL gown over his pants—there were limits—Fish crawled into bed, then wondered if he’d do better sitting in one of the uncomfortable bedside chairs if he was supposed to be on protection detail. Only a precaution, Manny had said. If there’d been a threat, Manny would have said so. If it had been a serious threat, Manny would have stayed.
No, this was nothing more than a way to make sure Fish stayed out of trouble.
He adjusted the bed so he was sitting. Light from the hall bled under the door and flashing displays from the monitors eliminated comforting darkness. The bleeps from Rambler’s machines provided enough annoying background noise so Fish didn’t think he’d succumb to a deep sleep.
Keeping his Glock by his side under the covers, he allowed himself to doze, wondering how Lexi was doing. Once things settled, would she be open to giving their relationship another try?
Relationship? What did they have? A few days of imposed togetherness. She’d made it clear her priorities were with Sofia, had never asked for his thoughts—or help.
When she’d left Indy and he’d joined Blackthorne, they’d begun their sporadic “keep in touch” calls. He’d accept things going back that way. Not exactly the same, because now there were memories of mind-blowing sex, but he’d settle for the memories.
Rambler groaned, and Fish snapped alert. The machines were making the same noises, the same rhythms, so Fish went back to his musings.
The door opened.
Fish blinked against the sudden light from the hallway and grabbed his weapon. A man in scrubs poked his head in the door, a clipboard in one hand. The other, he held high in the classic position of surrender. “Mr. Frisch. I’m the nurse on duty. I’m here to take Mr. Hanley’s vitals.”
Fish nodded.
The nurse stepped to Rambler’s bedside. Fish didn’t release his grip on his gun.
The nurse looked at the monitors, wrote things on his charts, and turned to him. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
He left, his rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the floor.
Fish relaxed his grip and allowed himself to doze, half-waking every half hour or so. When the door opened again, the nurse wore the expected scrubs, but had a mask over his face. Gloves on his hands. No greeting this time.
Fish tensed. Grabbed his weapon. Feigned sleep, but watched through slitted lids.
This nurse’s shoes didn’t squeak. They clumped. Still pretending to be asleep, Fish gave a quiet moan and shifted onto his side, keeping the man in view.
The nurse checked the IV tubing feeding Rambler his medications. When he set the clipboard at the foot of Rambler’s bed and pulled out a syringe, Fish leaped from his bed and grabbed him in a headlock, then pressed his weapon to the back of his head.
“I’d prefer not using this, but if I have to, you’re in a place where people can take care of you. Of course, if I pull the trigger, it’ll be too late for them to do anything.”
The man squirmed, but didn’t resist.
“Tell me you understand,” he said.
“I understand.”
“Drop the syringe,” Fish ordered.
The man rolled it under the bed.
“Hands interlocked behind your head.”
The man complied. Fish had him sit in the bedside chair. Keeping his weapon pointed at his captive, Fish rang his call bell.
“Yes, Mr. Frisch?”
“Get security in here. Fast. And call the cops.”
***
LEXI PARKED IN HER driveway, hoping she hadn’t missed the FedEx truck. She could wait no more than an hour before leaving to pick Sofia up from school.
She walked toward her porch, the suitcase click-clacking behind her. She’d get everything put away before fetching Sofia, and they could talk about real furniture. Lexi’s bedroom was big enough to double as her office.
Another Catch-22. If Human Services paid a surprise visit and found Sofia’s accommodations were a sleeping bag on the floor, would that be a big red checkmark in the negative column? Creating a room specifically for the child was an unnecessary step if Lexi wasn’t going to get custody. Still, she had to plan for it. A precaution, Marv would say.
She reached for her housekey as her cell phone vibrated. Marv? She grabbed the phone and checked the display.
Kalen Nauck.
“Becker,” she said, letting go of the suitcase and slotting the key into the lock.
“I have an update for you.”
Lexi opened the door a couple of inches. The hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. She turned, her back to the door. “Hold on,” she said softly, then slipped the phone into her purse, rested her hand on the grip of her weapon before stepping inside.
“Don’t go for a gun.” The man’s voice was calm, but firm. And familiar. He lowered a magazine, revealing a weapon.
She raised her empty hand. “Mr. Gunther.” Lexi hoped Kalen could hear both sides of the conversation. Gunther was smart enough to notice if she was feeding information to a third party, especially if she spoke in a louder than normal tone. She’d been a vice cop and had plenty of experience relaying info to her backup without it sounding staged. “What are you doing in my house pointing a gun at me? I thought you had other people do your dirty work.”
Lexi abandoned the suitcase by the door and crossed the room, stopping opposite the coffee table, setting her purse on its surface.
“I came to offer you a deal,” Gunther said. “I thought it would be more effective to do it in person.”
“Why would I make a deal with you?”
“I believe the young child you care about should be enough incentive.”
“You wouldn’t dare hurt Sofia.”
His mocking smile sent rivulets of sweat along her spine.
“Don’t ever tell me what I can or cannot do. I’m happy to leave her alone. For a price.”
Lexi’s pulse raced. Her mind whirled. She forced herself to meet his eyes, not the purse on the table, where she hoped her phone was capturing the conversation. And that Kalen was listening.
“In other words, you’re blackmailing me?” she said.
“Blackmail has such an ugly ring to it, don’t you think?” he said. “I prefer to think of it as a simple payment for services rendered.”
“Your services being—?” She folded her arms across her chest.
Lay it all out, you bastard. Say something we can use.
“As I said, no harm—from me—will come to the child.”
“How much are we talking about?” she asked. “You can see this little house. It’s all I own. I’m a cop. You know how much money I make—or don’t make.” She prayed he hadn’t accessed her finances, but Nick had kept them well separated from her daily life. Gunther shouldn’t know how much money her husband had left her. It was in a trust, and the name of the trust didn’t include hers.
He named a figure. Enough to put a crimp in her budget, not enough to destroy her lifestyle. Affordable, based on her being a cop, not a woman with a sizeable trust fund.
“You mean if I pay you, you won’t have Sofia killed the way you did her mother?”
“I didn’t kill her mother. She died, as I heard it, of an unfortunate drug overdose.”
Lexi bristled, but kept her tone calm. “Not you personally, but don’t try to deny you weren’t the puppet master. Or should I say the falconer?”
His eyes grew cold. He might be rich, he might have countless people under his thumb, but he was no different from the street thugs she dealt with. A bully. The way to deal with bullies was to stand up to them.
“If I don’t pay?” She lifted her chin. “How are you going to explain the death of a child so soon after her mother was killed? Excuse me. Died of an unfortunate drug overdose?”
“You wouldn’t want something equally unfortunate to happen to you, would you, Ms. Becker? Or should I call you Alexis, since we will be business partners? Then what would happen to poor little Sofia? To lose her mother, and then her Big Sister so soon afterward.” He gave a tsking sound that set her teeth on edge.
The door burst open. Three uniformed officers, guns drawn, stormed inside. For a moment, Lexi panicked when she saw Drew Redburn, but when Officer Panzerra showed up right behind him, along with Kalen, she stepped out of their way.
“Drop your weapon, Mr. Gunther,” Panzerra said.
Gunther glanced at the three weapons pointed at him and complied.
Redburn slapped a pair of cuffs on the man.
“You can’t do this. On what grounds?” Gunther demanded.
“We’ll start with you drawing a weapon on a police officer,” Kalen said. “Your underlings are singing. Like a choir of angels. You’re through, Mr. Gunther. El Halcón.”
Panzerra and Redburn marched the protesting man outside. Kalen held back.
Lexi sank into the chair, not sure her legs would support her. “You heard.”
“And recorded. Panzerra and Redburn were nearby, but I couldn’t resist being in on the collar. I broke a few speed records getting here.”
Lexi checked the time. “I might have to break a few getting to Sofia’s school.”
He clapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure nobody stops you.”
Kids were still streaming from the school building when Lexi arrived. She joined the line of cars picking up kids. As she inched forward, her phone buzzed.
Oregon DHS, the display said. Heart thumping almost as much as it had when she’d been standing across from Gunther, she accepted the call.
“I thought you’d like to know you’re approved for a ninety-day trial period as Sofia’s foster mother. We can arrange an appointment at your home early next week.”
Hand shaking, Lexi thanked her.
Sofia dashed over as soon as Lexi hit a designated pickup slot. The volunteer on duty opened the back door, and Sofia climbed in.
“Hey, Princess. How’d you like to go buy a bed?”