WHEN WE PUSH through the door to his room, we spot Marvin Mercer lying unconscious on the bed, various tubes and wires hooked up to him. Sitting next to the bed, keeping an eye on him, is an agent from the task force I recognize from the crime scene. She wears business attire, and I get the impression she came straight from her shift to the hospital.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Carlos says, taking off his hat in a polite gesture.
I do the same.
“It’s no trouble,” the agent says, rising and introducing herself as Kara Prince. She says she’s known Marvin since they were in the FBI academy together.
There are only two chairs in the room, and she offers them to us. Carlos and I decline and position ourselves next to the bed, looking down at Marvin. His eyes are closed and his skin is as pale as a corpse, but his chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm. There’s an oxygen tube up his nose, and a nearby monitor informs us of the steady beep beep beep of his heartbeat.
“How is he doing?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“Don’t know yet,” she says. “A bulletproof vest doesn’t do much to stop a shotgun at point-blank range.”
My breathing becomes shallow. Kara notices and says, “Ranger, you don’t have anything to feel guilty for. It’s not your fault.”
I nod, but I don’t feel good about what I’m seeing.
Carlos is looking at me more than Marvin, and I meet his gaze.
“Was this your plan?” I say. “You’d bring me in here to see this, then try to tell me I should stick around?”
“I didn’t really have a plan,” Carlos says, “but, yeah, if you want my opinion, I don’t think you should go.”
Kara looks up at us in confusion. “Do you two want to be alone?” she asks.
“We’ll step out into the hallway,” Carlos says, putting his hat on and tipping the brim.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your friend,” I say on my way toward the door.
As we’re about to walk out, Kara says to me, “You’re not leaving the task force, are you?”
Carlos answers for me. “Agent Logan kicked him off.”
Her eyes go wide, then turn angry. She tells us that all the other agents have been glad to have us on the team. “What you guys did at the warehouse, the way you raced in there, you’ve got nothing but respect from everyone on the task force.” Then she gestures toward Marvin, lying unconscious on the bed. “He would tell you the same thing if he could.”
“Thank you,” I say, and tip the brim of my hat as we walk into the hall.
Just outside the door, Carlos and I stop and stare at each other under the LED lights.
“It’s your choice whether you go back to Waco or not,” he says, “but before you leave, I want to say something.”
I nod, and we wait for a nurse to walk by.
“You asked me before why I became a Texas Ranger,” he says. “I did it because I believe in the idea of the Texas Rangers. Sure, there are plenty of black marks in the history of the Rangers. Hell, the Rangers used to run people who looked like me out of the state. The modern Rangers—the idea of the modern Rangers—is to fight for what’s right, no matter what. No matter the obstacles.”
“What would you have me do?” I say.
“Be a goddamn Texas Ranger,” he says, gesturing to the star on my chest. “Or take that off.”
A doctor and a nurse walk by, pretending not to notice two Texas Rangers engaged in a heated conversation in the hallway of the hospital.
“Ryan kicked me off the task force,” I say, hating the whining sound in my voice. “I did my best. He still kicked me off.”
Carlos grimaces. “I don’t give a damn about Ryan Logan and his ego. I don’t give a damn about some federal task force. You don’t work for the FBI—you work for the State of Texas. You took an oath to protect the people of Texas, and I don’t care if the whole Federal Bureau of Investigation stands in your way, I expect you to do it.”
I don’t say anything. My heart is pounding. Part of me feels like I’m a kid being lectured by my dad. Part of me feels like I’m a teenager being given a pep talk by my football coach. Another part feels, even though Carlos and I are equals, like I’m being told what I need to hear by a superior officer.
Carlos might not be a lieutenant yet.
He might never be.
But in this moment, he’s my lieutenant.
“If I stick around,” I say, “Ryan might kick you off the task force, too.”
“We don’t need the FBI,” he says. “The FBI needs us.”
I take a deep breath. I think about what I told Megan, how if I stick around, I’m bound to take a bullet one of these days. Will I end up like Marvin Mercer on the other side of this hospital door, unconscious and one step from death’s door?
Will I have to give my life?
“All right,” I say. “I’m in.”
His only response is a nod of the head.
“I’m sorry for my…” I trail off, not sure what to call it. My moment of weakness?
“No need to apologize to me,” he says, “but you might have to earn back Ava’s trust.”
“I will,” I say.
He suggests the three of us should meet first thing in the morning at the tribal police headquarters.
“I’ve got some information that I want to share with you,” he says.
As we’re about to leave, Kara, the FBI agent, pokes her head out from Marvin Mercer’s hospital room.
“I didn’t mean to listen in, but you guys were pretty loud,” she says. “You might want to know that police have recovered a vehicle they think was Llewellyn Carpenter’s.”
“Where?” Carlos asks.
“Right here in El Paso,” she says. “EPPD is on the scene. Last I heard, Ryan Logan was flying back from Phoenix. Wheels on the ground any minute. If you hurry,” she adds, looking around as if someone might be listening in, “you might be able to beat him there.”