68

I wake up to the sound of beeping. It’s cold in here, and the air smells of antiseptic and bleach. My eyelids feel heavy, and my mouth is real dry. Every bit of me aches.

I can guess where I am. These sounds and smells are familiar from all the treatment Dakota had to endure. But things were different then. I wasn’t the one in the bed. I force open my eyes. They feel scratchy, itchy. And I see that I was right.

I’m in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines; there’s a heart-rate monitor, an IV pump, and some other thing I don’t recognise. It’s bright in here – it seems unnaturally so – with the white walls and floors, and the lights on full.

Lights. They could be from a back-up generator, I guess, but maybe the blackout is over.

JT is slumped in a chair to the side of my bed, his head is bowed, and his stubble-covered chin rests part on his shoulder and part on the headrest. He’s asleep. I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. Notice the cuts and bruises on his face, his arms and his knuckles. He’s frowning in his sleep, and every few moments his eyelids flicker and his fists clench. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

There’s a dull throbbing in my side. I try to sit up, to see what’s going on down there. I’ve only moved a fraction when the pain spikes deep inside me. I gasp. Drop back down to the pillows. Fight back the urge to be sick.

‘Lori?’ There’s concern in JT’s voice. Relief too. He rubs the sleep from his eyes. ‘You’re back.’

‘Sure am.’ I manage a small smile. My face feels odd, rubbery somehow. I glance down at my body. ‘I was trying to check out the damage.’

‘Ah.’ From the look on his face I can tell he doesn’t think that’s a good idea.

‘You going to help me?’

‘Sure.’ Getting up, he steps over to the bed and gently pulls back the covers.

Although all I’m able to do without pain is raise my head a little, it’s enough. I see the thick white compression bandage wrapped around my torso, and I know things are serious. ‘What happened?’

JT shakes his head. ‘That asshole Cabressa shot you.’

I try to remember. Everything seems hazy, like I’m seeing the memories of last night play on a movie screen covered in a dark veil. I close my eyes. Focus harder – trying to cut through the drugs that are dulling my senses. But I can’t recall what happened. I keep my eyes closed. Keep trying. After what seems like forever the veil drops and I remember everything, as if in HD.

Opening my eyes, I meet JT’s gaze. ‘We both had the gun. I was trying to disarm him. He pulled the trigger.’

‘You got him though. You must have fought back even after you were shot. When I came into the room you’d gotten him cuffed.’

‘I wasn’t going to let him get away with what he did. He killed Anton and Mikey. Otis and Thomas, too.’ My voice is rasping against my parched throat. There’s a tippy cup on the side table. ‘Could you pass me the water?’

‘Sure.’

He does and I take a sip. The water feels like liquid needles against my raw throat.

‘You should know…’ JT exhales hard. ‘Anton, Mikey and Otis weren’t the only ones who died last night.’

I stare at him. Wait for him to continue.

He runs a hand over the stubble on his chin. ‘Johnny and Carl didn’t make it.’

‘What happened?’

The question hangs in the space between us. The machines beep on.

JT says nothing. Looks real conflicted.

I break the stalemate. ‘Where’s Carmella?’

He shakes his head. ‘She’s gone. In the wind.’

‘I don’t understand—’

He glances over his shoulder towards the closed door. Moves closer to me, crouching down so he can whisper in my ear. ‘It was her. She got that specific group of men together for a reason; she orchestrated the power outage, she set up the electronic voice and the penthouse lockdown, and initiated the decontamination process. The voice recordings implied one of them was Herron for a reason – she knew they’d fight, that none of them would want to reveal their secrets or lose face. She meant for those men to either kill each other or be arrested and jailed for killing.’

It doesn’t make sense. ‘Why?’

‘Because those men were all part of a development project that destroyed her family. Her father was leading the residents’ group against the development – so they had him killed. Her mother hung herself a little while after. Carmella was just a teenager, a few years older than Dakota is. She ended up on the street.’ JT shakes his head. ‘It doesn’t make it right, but she wanted to destroy those men – to make them pay for what they did to her family.’

I give a slight nod, as much as I can manage. I can understand why Carmella did what she did. I’ve felt those feelings of revenge myself. I know how powerful a motivator they are, but also that they’re a false promise. I know from experience how empty you feel after you’ve gotten revenge. How it doesn’t make the loss you’ve experienced any easier to bear. ‘Shit.’

‘Yeah.’

‘But she didn’t try to kill you?’

‘Not once she knew the truth. She’d assumed we were mob, because Cabressa was so insistent you came to the game. She hadn’t wanted anyone in the penthouse except for the men involved in the property syndicate, but she couldn’t refuse Cabressa and risk alienating him, and it was too late to call off the game. So she went ahead. Figured that you were mob so if you got taken out then it was collateral damage she could live with. I wouldn’t have been in the penthouse at all if Cabressa hadn’t insisted you made the call to get the knight delivered to the suite. She had to change the electronic recording when the lockdown happened and I was inside. Everyone had to have a secret revealed, so she made up a secret for me. Each person had a secret – but only one was Herron.’

‘So Carmella was Herron?’

‘As far as anyone ever was, yes. See, Herron was a myth – just a part of the set-up. She paid a lot of bribes to people with the skills she needed to make the plan work, and used the same tactic to get Herron’s name whispered whenever things went wrong on the street. When attacks and thefts went unclaimed, the rumours started that it was Herron’s doing. It didn’t take long for people to believe them.’

‘You felt sorry for her, so you let her go. Even though she was responsible for people dying?’

He doesn’t speak, but I can see from his expression that I’m right.

‘She was in the hotel last night. I saw her.’

‘Yeah,’ says JT. ‘And now she’s gone.’

‘You tell Monroe about her?’

He shakes his head. Grimaces. ‘You know how I feel about that guy.’

‘Yeah.’ Me and him both.

‘Shit, Lori. This…’ JT gestures to the hospital room, my wounds. ‘It’s real bad.’

I fake a smile. Try to lighten the mood. ‘You should have seen the other guy.’

‘I did.’

‘Then you know I didn’t let him get off so lightly.’

‘I thought you weren’t going to make it.’ He takes my hand. Squeezes it. ‘You almost didn’t. If that had happened, I couldn’t have … Dakota would have…’

‘I know.’

There’s nothing I can say to change the situation; JT’s speaking the truth. I’ve been shot twice in the last three jobs I’ve done. That’s double the number of gunshot wounds I’ve gotten in the rest of my career before that. And there’s a common factor in both. His name’s Special Agent Alex Monroe.

I meet JT’s gaze. ‘Something needs to change.’