July 3rd – 9:19 pm – Washington, DC
“Natalia!” Sloan shouted her name as he jumped over Anya’s dead body in his haste to reach her. “Natalia!”
Some distant part of his mind registered the fact Jordan was calling for an ambulance. He owed his partner a debt of thanks for coming through at the last minute and shooting Anya at the same moment Natalia leaped into the line of fire. He saw a wound, in the hollow of Natalia’s right shoulder. The oozing blood made him dizzy. Gritting his teeth, he shook off the sensation. As much as he wanted medical help for Natalia, he couldn’t really believe the danger was over.
“We can’t leave her alone in the hospital, not for a second,” he told Jordan as he balled up her shirt on the exit wound and then leaned his weight over the site in an effort to hold pressure. “Not until we know for sure the mole is dead.”
“I stumbled across Bentley’s body as I was trying to get behind the woman,” Jordan told him. “If he was the leak, he’s not a threat any longer.”
“But we don’t really know for sure he was the leak,” Sloan protested. “Where is the stupid ambulance?”
“They’re not going to be able to drive this deep into the park, Sloan.” Jordan’s tone was maddeningly reasonable. “We’ll carry her out to the clearing.”
“We need to keep pressure on her wound,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Without hesitation Sloan ripped off his shirt and, using his teeth, tore it in half so he could cover both the exit and entry wounds the best he could. Awkwardly holding the pressure pad against the bleeding area, he lifted Natalia’s limp body into his arms, barely noticing the strain against his own injury.
“Let me carry her,” Jordan offered, stepping forward as if to take the burden.
“No.” His fingers tightened on her body. “Lead the way.” Sloan couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. He strode quickly along the path, trying to hurry. In his mind’s eye, he relived the moment Natalia moved into the path of the bullet protecting him from harm.
He was supposed to protect her. Instead she’d taken the bullet meant for him.
Following Jordan wasn’t easy. He couldn’t see the ground at his feet and twice he tripped, almost falling on his face. Finally they reached the clearing. He gently set Natalia down, reapplying pressure to the gunshot wound in her upper chest. Her breathing was shallow, choppy, and he prayed for the first time since losing his sister that God would have mercy on him and spare Natalia’s life.
Please, Lord, save her!
It seemed like forever before the ambulance arrived, and even then, he was loathe to let her go. Once the paramedics had inserted an IV for fluids and stabilized her, they lifted her into the back of the ambulance. Sloan insisted on riding along, and after taking one look at his crazed expression, the paramedics had given in.
“After I pick up Lara and Alek I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Jordan assured him.
He nodded. They also had to figure out a way to get in contact with the director of the FBI and convince him to stop the fireworks.
And he would. As soon as he was sure Natalia would survive.
July 3rd – 9:22 PM – Brookmont, MD
Alek shivered, his body shaking so hard Lara glanced up at him in concern. While she couldn’t speak, her stern gaze spoke volumes.
You’re sick. You need antibiotics, you stubborn oaf.
She was right. He closed his eyes to avoid her accusing stare. Alek knew he was growing weaker, sicker, as the minutes ticked past. Their job was to stay here, wait for Sloan or Jordan to return. But what if something happened? What if their meeting with Bentley didn’t go as planned?
He could die waiting here for them. And he had too much to live for to give up that easily.
“Wait a li-little bit lo-longer,” he stuttered between shaking spells. He’d taken some acetaminophen a couple of hours ago but the over-the-counter medication hadn’t touched his fever.
His side ached with a burning pain and he imagined he could feel the infection infiltrating his body, one red blood cell at a time. He pulled his wife close, reassured by her presence beside him.
“I lo-love you, Lara,” he murmured. He kissed the top of her head and leaned against her. He didn’t want to think about the future and the possibility of failure. If he died right now, he’d die a happy man. “Gi-give me another ch-chance to prove how much I lo-love you.”
She held him for a moment, and then yanked out of his arms. Dazed, he peered at her. What had he said to make her angry? Was she still set against giving their marriage another try?
She pulled on his arm, hard, until he realized she wanted him to stand. Then she dragged him towards the door. Belatedly he realized what she was doing.
Forcing him to get help.
The fierce determination in her eyes made him smile.
There was still hope. She wasn’t giving up on him. On their marriage.
She wasn’t giving up on them.
He stumbled as she tugged him toward the tiny hotel office. One look at him and the woman behind the desk would no doubt call for an ambulance.
Praying he wasn’t making a giant mistake, he followed his wife inside.
July 3rd – 10:15 PM – Washington, DC
The Russian woman had tried to kill him.
He stared down at the dead rat lying in the alley and realized how close he’d come to dying himself.
Good thing he’d listened to his instincts, forcing himself to throw up minutes after he’d ditched the woman, bringing up the remains of the celebratory shot of Russian vodka they’d shared. The rat lying beside his vomit proved the drink had been poisoned. As it was, some of whatever substance she’d used had gotten into his system, causing him to pass out shortly after he’d puked his guts out.
Had he told her what she wanted to know?
He blinked away the fog and squinted at his watch, realizing he’d lost a lot of time. Past ten. The timeframe for the meeting with Natalia had passed. No doubt Anya had gone in his place. Had she already killed them all? Natalia? Dreyer? Rashid?
He had no way of knowing for sure.
Swearing under his breath, he stumbled to his feet, using the brick wall beside the dumpster for support, swiping his hand along the back of his mouth. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he searched for missed calls.
There was one message.
“You told me to let you know if any of our suspects surfaced and they have. Two of them. Both Natalia Sokolova and Alek Nevsky were admitted to Sibley Hospital on the border of DC and Maryland. Wasn’t that nice of them to end up at the same place? Let me know if you want me to follow up.”
The hospital?
Seriously? She wasn’t dead? He wanted to slam his fist against the building in frustration. How hard could it be to kill one woman? Since Anya had tried to kill him, he pretty much figured out he wasn’t going to see his money.
Which meant he didn’t really need to kill Natalia. Unless she knew the truth. The thought brought him upright. Witnesses. The last thing he needed was witnesses.
If he moved fast, he could still salvage what was left of his career. There was just enough time to eliminate the witnesses and get out of the country before the big bang.
Afterward, he could return and be the hero who pulled the country from the depths of despair.
Fueled with determination, he pushed away from the wall and stumbled toward the car.
Yes. There was still time.
July 3rd – 12:05 AM – Washington, DC
Sloan stuck close to Natalia throughout her stay in the ED, up until the time they whisked her off to surgery. Even then he paced outside the operating room area until the doctor came to tell him Natalia had pulled through just fine. They’d been forced to remove the upper lobe of her lung, which had sustained the worst of the damage, but she was stable enough to go to a regular room.
He’d have felt better if she’d gone straight to the ICU where there was more security but, then again, he couldn’t deny he was grateful she was alive. It wasn’t long before they transferred her to a private room. He pulled up a chair to sit at her bedside.
Sloan stared at her. She was achingly beautiful. He’d almost lost his mind, thinking she might die. Not just because he didn’t want another death on his conscience but because he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Strange considering he’d only met her a few days ago. He reached out to touch her hand. She continued to sleep peacefully, no doubt still under the effects of anesthesia.
He dropped his head into his hands, swallowing a groan. His entire body ached and he was running a fever, but wasn’t ready for a hospital bed of his own. Not until someone was standing guard over Natalia. He couldn’t believe it was over.
What was taking Jordan so long, anyway? He should have been here by now.
Sloan pulled his cell phone from his pocket to see if Jordan had left him a message. Nope.
He lifted his head when a nurse walked into the room carrying a Styrofoam cup filled with ice and soda. “Here, this is from your partner. He told me to let you know he’s here and working on getting in touch with the boss?” She lifted a shoulder to indicate she didn’t completely understand the message. Her gaze turned to Natalia. “How’s our patient?”
He took a sip of the soft drink and then set the cup aside. “You tell me, you’re the nurse.” He gazed down at Natalia. “She’s a nurse too.”
“Really?” The nurse whose name tag read Christy, glanced over in surprise. “Where does she work?”
“Washington University Hospital.”
“Wow, small world.” Christy put her stethoscope in her ears and proceeded to examine Natalia, listening to her heart and lungs, then her blood pressure. After taking inventory of her vital signs, she checked the surgical dressing.
Sloan scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling woozy. He stood, fighting the urge to lay his head down next to Natalia’s. The events of the past few days were obviously catching up to him. He tried to concentrate. “Where is my partner? I need to talk to him for a minute.”
“In the hall, making phone calls.” Christy took her time hanging a mini-bag of antibiotic on Natalia’s IV tubing before she turned away. “I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”
“Thanks.” The room blurred and Sloan gave his head a hard shake. He needed to hang on for a little while longer. His body couldn’t fail him now.
Christy left the room and in less than a minute, the door opened again.
“Well, if it isn’t the infamous Sloan Dreyer. You never did like to follow orders, did you?”
The dry sarcastic tone was familiar, but didn’t belong to Jordan. Sloan turned to look at the man who’d walked into Natalia’s room, tensing when he realized the guy had closed the door behind him. Sloan’s vision remained blurred but he blinked, struggling to bring the man’s face into focus.
Ted Saunders. One of the most trusted assistant directors of the FBI.
Saunders lips were moving, but Sloan couldn’t make out what he was saying. But when Saunders lifted a syringe and smiled, Sloan finally figured out his dizziness wasn’t just the effects of a fever.
He’d been drugged.
His gaze fell on the Styrofoam cup. The soft drink he’d barely tasted. This is from your partner. But it hadn’t been from his partner at all.
Saunders was the mole.
“No!” Gathering every ounce of strength he possessed, he threw himself at Saunders, catching the guy off balance.
They fell against the wall with a thud. For a moment they wrestled for the syringe, but Saunders was stronger than he looked, and in his weakened condition, Sloan couldn’t pry the weapon from his fingers. Saunders threw a punch and his head snapped back from the force of the blow, giving him a strange sense of déjà vu. This was almost an exact replay of the tussle in Lara Nevsky’s house.
Saunders had bested him that time. Sloan knew he couldn’t allow him to get away again.
He hung onto Saunders by sheer force of will. How long did he have before someone came to investigate? Where was Jordan?
Pain exploded in his jaw as Saunders’ fist connected for the second time. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and Sloan dimly realized it was possible Saunders had already taken care of Jordan.
If so, he was on his own.
Saunders hit him again and stars danced in his eyes. He slumped against the wall, struggling to remain conscious. After a long moment, he lifted his head and caught a glimpse of the syringe in Saunders’ hand as he leaned over Natalia’s bed and lifted her IV tubing. He blinked and Saunders slid the tip of the needle into the IV port.
No! With one Herculean effort he rushed Saunders, caught the man’s wrist and yanked the needle from her IV. They struggled for the syringe. Sloan didn’t try to get the syringe away, but used all his energy to turn Saunders’ wrist so he could jam the needle into his chest.
“Noooo!” Saunders yelled, trying to pull the syringe out. But Sloan leaned all his weight on the plunger, injecting whatever drugs Saunders had prepared directly into his system.
Saunders’ body gave a series of violent spasms before falling limp. Dragging himself to his feet, Sloan got up and pulled Saunders off Natalia, not caring when his body hit the floor with a loud thunk.
“Natalia? Are you all right?” He gathered her close, reassuring himself that she was okay.
“Hurts,” she murmured, blinking up at him. Obviously the fight had roused her from the heavy sedation.
“I know, sweetheart. But it’s over.” He stroked a hand down her back. “We found the mole, Ted Saunders. It’s finally over.”
She frowned. “The fireworks?”
Huh? Rats. He’d almost forgotten. He needed to get in touch with someone at the FBI who would get him in front of the director himself. And where was Jordan? A warning chill settled at the base of his spine. Gently he set her back against the pillows. “You’re right, it’s not over. Not yet. I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t like leaving her. Not one bit. He double-checked the body of Ted Saunders and verified the guy was, indeed, dead.
Hoping the nurse didn’t stumble across Saunders body yet needing to find out if Jordan was alive, Sloan walked out of Natalia’s room and down the hall. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed his partner. When he heard a phone ringing in the room down the hall, his gut clenched as he went over to investigate.
The name outside the room was Alek Nevsky. Inside, he found Jordan slumped in a chair, barely breathing. A quick glance at Lara Nevsky confirmed she, too, was unconscious half lying on Alek’s bed.
Saunders had gotten to them. They must have ingested more of the drugged soft drinks than he had.
He yanked the cord from the wall to summon emergency help. When the response wasn’t quick enough, he poked his head outside of the room and yelled.
A couple of nurses ran into the room. Sloan propped himself against the wall and gestured to the victims. “I have reason to suspect these people have all been drugged, even the patient. Get your emergency team here, now!”
Soon the room was filled with medical personnel; three groups clustered around each of the victims. Sloan couldn’t do much but prop himself against the wall, standing back to watch helplessly.
He tried to estimate how much time had passed before Saunders had found him in Natalia’s room, but couldn’t honestly say for sure. Nor did he know what drug Saunders had used on them.
When more people arrived with carts and additional medical equipment, his heart sank. There were so many people he couldn’t see exactly what was going on. Soon, Jordan, Alek and Lara were put on carts and all three of them were whisked away, he hoped to the ICU rather than to the morgue.
No, if they were dead they wouldn’t have hurried. Please Lord, don’t let them all die!
Sloan slowly sank to the floor, his legs refusing to support his weight any longer. When the dizziness returned, he put his head down on his knees. His last conscious thought was that while he may have bested Saunders in the end, the price had been steep.
Far too steep.