Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 6:25 p.m.
Agent Parrish Colby got them to the clinic in four minutes, slowing down when Diesel spied Greg walking from where he’d parked on the street. Greg was walking with his head down, texting on his phone.
Parrish leaned on the horn, but Greg didn’t stop.
Dani wanted to throttle her brother. “If he’s not wearing his hearing aids, he can’t hear anything.” And even if he was, it wasn’t enough just to hear a car horn. “We’re going to have to catch him, because he’s not watching for us. Stop the van. Stop the van!” she shouted when they still hadn’t rolled to a stop.
Parrish stopped with a jerk, opening the doors for Dani to get out. But Diesel was first and he sprinted toward Greg, catching up to him just as Greg was pulling at the clinic’s front door.
Diesel grabbed Greg around the waist, spinning him around.
Greg shrank back, his face gone white. “What the fuck?” he voiced.
Diesel didn’t answer, dragging Greg between two parked cars on the street and hunkering down. Dani caught up to them, breathing hard as she dropped into a crouch beside them. “It’s a trap, Greg,” she signed, her hands shaking. “I didn’t ask you to meet me here.”
Greg’s face went even paler. “Oh my God. It’s him? Kaiser?”
Dani nodded, trying to catch her breath. “I think so.”
“But . . . how?” Greg was trembling, head to toe. “How did he get my number? How did he know yours? The text came from you.”
“He must have spoofed it,” Diesel said, but he was looking up and down the street. “Let’s go. Parrish Colby’s going to get us out of here. Now.”
Dani didn’t move. “How did he get our numbers, Diesel? Did you get any other texts, Greg?”
Greg nodded. “One from Jenny, right as I got out of the car. That’s what I was looking at when Diesel grabbed me. She said to hurry.”
Dani sucked in a breath that hurt. One text had been sent from her own account and the next from the nurse at the clinic? This wasn’t good.
“Jenny was on duty today,” she explained to Diesel. “If Kaiser’s using her phone . . .”
Diesel pressed his lips together. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. Greg, you’re going to get into Parrish’s van and stay down. Dani . . .” He trailed off and just shook his head. “You’re going to do what you’re going to do.”
Damn straight, she thought. “Just wait,” she told him, then took Greg’s arm and ran with him to the FBI van. “Parrish, we need you. Greg, get in the van. Stay with Agent . . . I don’t know your name.”
“Agent Rocha, ma’am,” the other man said as he slid over the middle console and into the driver’s seat.
“Thank you. Greg, stick to Agent Rocha like glue. And stay down.” Without waiting for agreement, she ran back to Diesel.
If Cade Kaiser had her nurse’s phone, it meant Jenny was hurt. “Where’s Adam?” she asked Parrish.
“I don’t know,” Parrish said from behind her and Dani was grateful that she’d remembered to wear her processor. She wouldn’t have been able to hear him otherwise.
“Can you try Meredith? She might know where he is.”
“I did,” he replied. “Neither of them is answering.”
“What about your backup?”
“On the way,” Parrish said, then blew out a breath. “Shit. What the fuck’s he doing?”
Dani’s heart skittered as she realized that Diesel was no longer hiding between the parked cars.
He’d just entered the clinic.
She burst in behind him. And skidded to a stop, staring at all the blood on the floor. “Oh my God. Miles.” The other clinic doctor was on the floor, unmoving.
Diesel was checking for a pulse. “It’s so faint, I can barely feel it.”
Dani started toward them, but Parrish Colby grabbed her arm. “Wait. Let me clear the area,” he said.
So Dani waited impatiently while he searched, clearing each room. She heard him call out from one of the exam rooms and rushed in after him. “Jenny!”
Her nurse was down, a wide swath of blood behind her, like she’d dragged herself across the floor. Dani grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the counter and dropped to her knees to take her pulse.
“She’s alive,” Dani said, relieved.
“I called for an ambulance already,” Parrish said. “The interior is clear. I’m going to check outside and direct our backup.”
“Thanks,” Dani murmured, already focused on Jenny. The nurse wore only a bra, which had once been white but was now crimson except for a few inches of the straps. She’d been shot in the upper abdomen. Her arm was outstretched, reaching for her scrubs top, which lay on the floor.
Still on her knees, Dani crawled to the cabinet and threw open the lower doors, grabbing all the gauze she could find. If she couldn’t stem the bleeding, Jenny wasn’t going to make it.
She was packing the wound when Jenny’s eyes opened and her mouth moved. Dani lowered her ear so that she could hear whatever Jenny was trying to say.
“Pocket,” Jenny barely breathed. “Please.”
Dani reached for Jenny’s top and felt something heavy in the pocket. It was the switchblade that the woman always carried because she feared the neighborhood, especially at night. It wasn’t going to help her now.
Dani had dropped the scrubs and was returning her attention to Jenny’s gunshot wound when she heard it.
A small pop. Like a champagne cork, but softer. Fear had her grabbing for Jenny’s blade, sliding it up the sleeve of her sweater seconds before she heard the footsteps behind her.
She pivoted on her knees, only to look up into the face of Cade Kaiser.
“You look like shit,” she said, because it was the first thing that came to mind.
His skin was an unhealthy gray, and he swayed unsteadily. Even from a few feet away she could smell the putrid odor of infection.
His wounds were going septic. But that wasn’t what held her attention.
That would be the gun in his hand. With a silencer on the end of the barrel.
Oh no. Suddenly her mind processed the pop she’d heard. Oh God.
“Diesel!” she yelled and tried to rush past Kaiser, aiming for the exam room door, but he grabbed her wrist, yanking her to her feet. A moment later the barrel of the gun was pressed to her head.
“He’s dead,” Kaiser said flatly, “and you will be, too, if you don’t open the damn supply closet and get me some medicine.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 6:29 p.m.
Cade blinked hard, fighting to keep his body upright. He leaned into Dani Novak, pushing her toward the exam room door.
“Go. And don’t try anything heroic. I’ve got literally nothing to lose.”
The doctor stumbled, and he jerked her wrist behind her back to keep her from falling. Her hiss of pain was welcome and he latched on to it, using it to fuel each step forward. This woman was responsible for this. For all of this. Her and her goddamn bodyguards.
Her “platoon.” Her friends and family.
He wanted to gut them all, but he’d content himself with her. He’d already taken care of the behemoth who’d charged into the clinic like a rabid bull, shocking him. He’d been expecting the doctor’s younger brother, not a man who looked so much like himself. For a moment he’d stared, thinking the fever was making him delusional.
Then the man had dropped to the male doctor’s side and Cade had managed to clear the back door, evading notice.
He’d been forced back inside the clinic, though, when a man in a suit ran around the back, weapon drawn, shouting “FBI.” The Fed had dropped like a rock when Cade shot him in the leg, the same place the redheaded female Fed had shot Cade.
He’d pulled a stack of flattened boxes over the downed Fed and fled back into the clinic, desperately trying to figure out his next step. And then he’d heard her. The doctor. Dr. Dani Novak, a.k.a. his ticket to freedom.
Now he shoved Novak through the exam room door, jamming the barrel of his gun into her temple with more force than he needed to. Except that he did need to. He needed to hear her gasp, her whimper when she saw the carnage in the hall outside the exam room.
“Supply closet,” he snapped when she faltered at the sight of the behemoth’s body lying facedown beside the shirtless male doctor. A dark stain was spreading on the back of the brute’s sweatshirt.
Diesel. She’d called him Diesel. What the fuck kind of name was that? This was the man he’d heard with Dani Novak the night he’d shot Not-a-Detective Stone. According to the news article on the shooting, the property he’d thought was a safe house belonged to Elvis Kennedy, a.k.a. Diesel.
Well, Diesel was one problem Cade no longer had to worry about.
Cade gave the doctor another shove. “Move it, Dr. Novak. I don’t have all day.”
She stopped abruptly, her breaths coming in jagged pants. “No.”
He tightened his hold on her arm. “No? Did you just tell me no?”
“I did.” She stood ramrod straight now, her body trembling. “I was agreeing with you. You don’t have all day. This place will be surrounded by cops and FBI, if it’s not already.”
“They’ll let me go,” he said. But his hand shook, which made him angrier. “You’re my ticket out of here.”
“No,” she said again. “They won’t let you go.”
He stilled for a moment, then snarled. “Of course they will. Your brother and your cousin will let me go because they want you to live.”
“No, they won’t. They will not let you go to save me.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Not because they won’t want to save me, because they will. And when they catch you, they’re going to make you pay for forcing them to make that choice.”
He shook her, glad to hear a whimper, because she’d made him doubt what he knew to be true. Of course they’d choose her. Of course they’d let him go. They’d do anything to keep her alive. She’s messing with my mind. “Stop arguing and get to the supply closet. I want antibiotics.”
She bowed her head, her free hand clenching at her side. “No.”
It sounded like a sob.
He shoved her hard, and she went to her knees. He jerked her arm, twisting it higher behind her back. “Get up,” he snarled, dragging her to her feet. Feeding on her cry of pain, letting it center him. “Get up, or you’ll be dead on the floor with your bodyguard.”
And then the bodyguard moved. In a flash, the big man was lurching from the floor, lunging toward them.
Huge hands closed around Cade’s throat, squeezing, lifting him off his feet, making him gasp for air. The doctor twisted from his hold and he dimly heard something clatter to the ground. His gun? No, he still had that.
I still have my gun. Shoot him. Now.
Cade worked the weapon between their bodies, shoving the barrel into the man’s chest, but his vision was going black, his fingers numb. Pull the trigger, dammit, he told himself. Pull it.
Then he froze as the tip of a knife jabbed into the back of his neck.
“Drop the gun,” Dani hissed. “Or I will kill you where you stand. Don’t you dare think I won’t, you sonofabitch.”
The behemoth wrenched the gun from Cade’s hand, then stepped back, his hand visibly shaking as he pointed the weapon at Cade. “On the floor,” he commanded. “Hands out where I can see them.”
No. No, no, no. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He’d come so far . . .
Too far to stop fighting.
He spun around, going for the doctor’s wrist, but a sharp pain ripped through his gut just as he was knocked to the floor by the bodyguard. He had only enough time to register Dr Novak’s bloody knife and satisfied expression before a beefy fist connected with his jaw, then another fist. And another.
Through blurry eyes, Cade looked up to see the bodyguard looming over him, snarling like a beast. Then the fist smashed into his eye and he couldn’t see anything.
“Diesel.” The doctor’s voice cut through the fog. “Diesel!”
More hits, to his face, to his stomach, as the doctor continued to yell the bodyguard’s name. “Diesel, baby.” She panted the words. “You need to stop.”
The attack stopped abruptly and the only sound was heavy breathing. Hers. The bodyguard’s. His own.
The pain was excruciating and he had to strain to catch her words.
“He’s down,” she said softly. “He’s not getting up again.”
“He hurt you,” the big man growled. “He put his hands on you.”
“He won’t do that again, baby. He won’t hurt anyone again.”
And then the doors burst open and, through the pain, there was chaos.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 6:35 p.m.
Motherfucking hell. Diesel had never been so glad to see cops in all his life. They poured in, surrounding Kaiser, guns drawn, Adam leading the charge.
“You’re late,” Diesel griped at them.
“Shh,” Dani whispered. She’d had her arms around his shoulders, having dragged him off the bastard who lay bleeding at his feet. Now she lowered Diesel to the floor, raising his sweatshirt, her mismatched eyes full of worry. She scanned his chest. “Where are you hit?”
“Back,” Diesel rasped. The asshole had snuck up behind him while he was checking on the clinic’s other doctor. “But it’s not bad.”
Adam dropped to his knees beside him. “What happened? Why the fuck did you run in before we got here? Greg was safe.”
“Heard a crash.” Diesel pointed to a toppled display of pamphlets. “And a groan. Thought it was the nurse. Saw the doc on the floor. He’s still alive, but barely.”
“Same with Jenny,” Dani said, her head whipping to the exam room.
“EMS is here.” Adam pointed to the team of paramedics who were pushing a stretcher through the doors, followed closely by a second team with another stretcher. One of the teams rushed to where Miles lay, the doctor’s chest barely moving up and down as he took shallow breaths. But he was still alive.
When the second team of medics approached Diesel, he waved them off. “Jenny needs you more.” Once they’d pushed the stretcher into the exam room, Diesel lifted his head to take in the room. “Is Kaiser dead?”
Dani turned on her knees to look. “Actively bleeding from a knife wound to his lower abdomen. But still alive.”
“Shit.” Diesel closed his eyes. “Let the fucker die.”
“I can’t.”
Diesel opened his eyes to see Dani staring at Kaiser, her eyes tormented and uncertain. “Why?”
“Because he knows where Evelyn and her baby are.”
Shit. He’d forgotten about them. “Do what you need to do. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not, but you’re more okay than he is.” She pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. “I’ll be back. Adam, see that the next medics take Diesel. I think he’s worse than he’s admitting.”
Diesel closed his eyes, swallowing a groan so she wouldn’t know exactly how right she was. “What the fuck took you so long, Kimble?”
Adam shrugged out of his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves. “We didn’t know you’d gone into the clinic, dipshit,” he snapped. He waved his hand and Diesel heard the clatter of a third stretcher. “Help me over here,” he called out. “He’s been shot in the back.” Then he added in a mutter, “Fucking idiot.”
“Love you, too,” Diesel grunted as the paramedics turned him onto his side. Seconds later he felt cool air on his back as his sweatshirt was cut away.
Adam crouched beside him, letting the paramedics do their job. “I swear to God, Diesel Kennedy, if you die, you will break my wife’s heart, and that is not okay.”
Diesel found himself smiling. It was Adam’s way of saying that he cared, too. “Got it.” Then he frowned. “Where’s Greg? And Parrish Colby? Parrish followed us in, then went out back.” He’d cleared the interior, Diesel remembered.
“Kaiser shot him,” Adam said grimly. “He’s being transported to the ER as we speak. It took us a minute or two to find him. Greg had to tell us that Parrish’s partner had left him alone in the van to go search for you guys because Parrish wasn’t answering his phone.” He shook his head. “Gonna have that idiot’s badge.”
Diesel agreed. Leaving Greg alone? What had the agent been thinking? “Where is Greg?” he asked again.
“Safe,” Adam assured him. “He’s with Parrish’s partner and two uniforms.” He raised a pointed brow. “Greg was the only person who did what he was supposed to. He stayed put and stayed down. Parrish didn’t wait for backup because you and Dani rushed in here all save-the-day.”
Diesel understood that Adam’s rant was more a release of pent-up fear than any real anger. “Kaiser had hidden Parrish under some boxes,” Adam went on. “We thought you two were with him, but then realized you weren’t. We were about to come in when we looked through the window and saw Kaiser with his gun to Dani’s head.”
Diesel growled again, the image too clear in his mind, then yelped when the paramedic began putting pressure on his wound.
“Diesel?” Dani called from where she sat tending Kaiser, her tone worried.
“Tell her I’m okay,” Diesel muttered to Adam.
Adam snuck a peek at Diesel’s back and grimaced. “You’re not okay.”
“Then lie. If that guy dies, we’ll never find the dog groomer and Dani won’t forgive herself, even if that’s stupid.”
Adam blew out a sigh. “He’s okay,” he called to his cousin. “Just being a baby.”
Diesel scowled. “You are so going to pay for that.”
“You can’t be that hurt if you’re threatening me,” Adam said lightly.
“The boys are with Troy.” Diesel clenched his teeth because it hurt, dammit. “Tell them that we’re okay and we’ll be home soon.”
Adam grabbed his hand and held it tight, absorbing the pain when Diesel crushed his fingers. “I will. Don’t worry.”
Diesel wasn’t worried. Not about his little family. But they weren’t done yet. Kaiser still had hostages. “How’s Dani doing over there?”
Adam looked grim. “She’s saving the bastard’s life.”
Diesel knew it was necessary. Still . . . “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “That about sums it up.”
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday, March 19, 7:55 p.m.
“Thank you,” Grant said, accepting the mortician’s card. “I appreciate you staying open late to help me with my brother’s . . . arrangements.”
Wesley’s cremation.
“We’re happy to be of service,” the mortician said. “And we are very sorry for your family’s loss.”
Grant jerked a nod. He’d heard that phrase several times today. Everyone from the Cincinnati PD to the medical examiner to Wesley’s boss in Cleveland. Of course, the Cleveland commander over the narcotics division had a lot more to say than that.
There were lots of questions about Wesley’s possession of a brick of heroin and five hundred grand in cash. So many questions that Grant’s head ached. He supposed he was lucky that he wasn’t being arrested for conspiracy or aiding and abetting a felony.
“We’ll call you when his remains are prepared for pickup,” the mortician was saying, and Grant realized he’d been standing there staring into space.
“I’m sorry. My mind wandered.”
The mortician smiled kindly. “Perfectly normal. Please take care.”
Nodding numbly, Grant left the mortician’s office and made his way to the front of the funeral home. Then paused when a lively conversation between two employees stopped the moment he saw them.
He frowned. “What?” he asked, because the two men were staring at him.
“Um . . . nothing,” one of them said.
The other shot his coworker a disapproving look. “We just saw that Cade Kaiser has been apprehended. We thought that seeing as he was responsible for your loss, maybe you’d like to know.”
Grant grabbed onto a support column, feeling light-headed. “They caught him? When? Where?”
“An hour ago. He’d taken some hostages in the free clinic in Over-the-Rhine.”
Grant’s blood went cold. “The free clinic?” That was Dani Novak’s clinic. He’d read up on her when he’d woken this morning, wanting to know about the woman who’d been so kind when she hadn’t had to be.
He’d read up on Diesel, too. They were good people. “Was anyone hurt?”
Both men hesitated. “There are reports of several injuries,” the second man said. “They’re keeping pretty quiet on the details.”
“Thank you,” Grant said and hurried out, dialing Dani Novak’s cell phone number as he ran to his car.
“Hello?” Dani answered. “Grant?”
“Oh my God.” His breath rushed out of him. “I heard there was a shooting at your clinic. But you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she said, reassuring him. “Diesel was shot, but he’ll recover. An FBI agent, one of the clinic’s doctors, and my nurse are in stable condition.”
“And Kaiser?” Grant pressed. “Is he dead?”
“No. Kaiser survived.” She drew a breath and exhaled loudly. “I saved his life.”
“What?” Grant shouted, then apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But . . . why?”
“He has other hostages. And he should face justice. He should pay for what he did, all the people he hurt.”
Grant unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel, so damn tired. “You’re right.” He still wanted Kaiser dead, but she was right. “Is he talking?”
“Not yet. He’s in ICU. He’s alive, but . . . well, it doesn’t look good. If he were a religious man, I’d say he should be asking for a priest right now.” The last was uttered with a dark humor that Grant suspected was helping her to cope. “How are you, Grant?”
“I’m . . .” He started the engine. “I’m leaving the funeral home.”
A beat of silence. “I’m sorry.” And she was. He could hear it in her voice.
“Thanks. You take care of Diesel, okay?”
“I will. You take care of yourself.”
Grant ended the call, then sat staring through his windshield. He switched on the wipers when the glass became blurry, then realized that it wasn’t raining. He wiped his eyes and pulled out of the parking lot. He still had one more thing to do before he left this city and never came back.