Hard Core (Onyx Group) (24 page)

“I know the rules.” How many times had she said the same
thing to family and friends who wanted to stay?

“If you need anything before then, just let me know.”

Alana nodded. “Thank you.”

Beth finished her assessment and slipped out of the room,
casting shy glances at Sam and Mercer as she went.

To be so young and free, Alana thought, trying to remember
when that had been her. It seemed like so long ago. A whole other life. Another
her. That take-on-the-world naive woman had grown up fast with some hard knocks
along the way.

“Which one of you is going after Gavin?” she asked.

“Sarver.”

She nodded. Given his fear of hospitals, it was probably for
the best, because she wasn’t leaving Cristian’s side until they kicked her out.

“We’ll be right outside the door if you need us.” Sam gave
her privacy.

Once the door closed behind him and Mercer, she laid her
head on Cristian’s chest. It rose slow and steady beneath her cheek. Thank God
he was alive. She wanted him back. Needed him. She couldn’t let him go yet.

“I’m sure you heard.” She spoke softly, believing he could
hear her. “Gavin escaped the blast. Sam thinks--he’s here with Sarver--that
Gavin will come after me. They won’t leave my side. You have good friends,
Cristian.”

Nothing. Not a hint of movement or sign that he heard her.
Eyes closed, she continued to speak. “I had friends growing up, but I’m not
sure any of them would risk their lives for me. I left for Nicaragua with my
dad without a second thought. Without saying goodbye. My friends and I never
shared the bond you and your teammates do. I see that now. They would die for
you, Cristian. And so would I.”

It was the closest she had come to vowing her love for him.
Maybe because she wasn’t really sure he could hear her. Some thought comatose
patients could; others said no.

“Alana. It’s time to go.”

She lifted her head to see Sam had poked his head inside the
door. The apologetic look on his face made her nod. “Five more minutes.”

“Five minutes,” he agreed and closed the door.

Alana spent those five minutes simply holding Cristian the
best she could with only one arm. And when he didn’t hug her in return, she
kissed his cheek and left the room, praying that tomorrow he would wake up and
hold her.

* * * *

Trapped inside a dream. Everywhere he turned, the dream
changed and shifted, throwing him back to his past when he was twelve and
expelled from school for fighting and then to the present with a red-haired
goddess sponge-bathing while he watched. And everywhere in between,
highlighting the best and worst moments of his life.

Like being caught in an episode of Twilight Zone, except it
was really happening. His body felt heavy, his limbs unresponsive. Not even his
eyes would cooperate. Faces floated inside his head. Faces of people he’d
killed. Faces of people that hurt him. His entire life played out in slow
motion and he could do nothing to stop it. Not like an out-of-body experience.
He could feel his body, he was just trapped inside it. And no matter how hard
he fought, it wouldn’t release him.

The only comfort he found was a feminine voice speaking
softly, and the tender touch only a woman could possess. It chased the faces
away, made the pain recede. But the faces always came back to haunt him. He
wanted to get back to her. Sensed she needed his help. Though he couldn’t
understand her words, he knew she needed him. Danger lurked around the corner,
he could feel it. Just how the hell was he supposed to get back to her before
danger stole her from him?

Alana stared at the gun in her hand, mixed feelings settling
over her. Not one to ignore her gut instinct, she tucked it in her purse and
left the bedroom before she lost her nerve. She hadn’t slept much last night,
waiting for a call from the hospital to tell her Cristian had come out of his
coma. The call hadn’t come. When she had slept, it was restless, with
fragmented dreams and a sense of foreboding she couldn’t shake.

Mercer and Sam were waiting for her and didn’t argue when
she refused coffee and asked to go straight to the hospital. During the drive,
she held the purse on her lap, clutching it with tight knuckles. She didn’t
like carrying a gun, hoped she would never have to use it, but her gut told her
something was wrong. Could be lack of sleep or stress, but either way, she
wasn’t being too careful.

Sam drove, glancing over the seat to say something to her.
She’d chosen the back seat because of the weapon in her purse. No one needed to
know she had it. A conversation she would just as soon avoid.

“Detour,” he said as they turned down a side street.

“Some kind of road work,” Mercer commented.

Alana didn’t bother to look. They were always working on the
roads somewhere. Detours usually only made a trip a little longer. She didn’t
care as long as they got to the hospital soon. So she could see for herself
that Cristian was all right.

“That’s odd,” Sam said, slowing. “They’re directing us down
an alley.”

“Maybe the road is closed in both directions.”

Alana peered out the window. There really wasn’t much
traffic this morning. A man with a neon orange and green safety vest directed
other traffic one way, and them another.

“Or they want to cut down traffic on the side roads.” She
had seen them do that to avoid congestion.

Sam followed directions and turned into the alley barely
wide enough for the truck to fit down. Tall buildings surrounded them on each
side and occasionally they ran over a cardboard box or garbage that had been
tossed out.

“Where are the other cars?” she wondered, looking out the
back window.

“I don’t like this,” Mercer said.

Spooked, Alana tightened her hands on her purse. If they
didn’t like this, she certainly didn’t. Their instincts were much more in tune
than her own.

“Me either,” Sam agreed, rolling to a stop.

Heart pounding, she looked from one man to the other.
Strange they were the only car directed down the alley. Looking behind, she saw
the man in the safety vest was no longer there and cars were passing freely.

“The traffic cop is gone,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Sam let out a curse and slammed the truck in reverse. Her head
whipped around to see an SUV speeding down the alley toward them. Bracing an
arm on the back of the seat, Sam looked over his shoulder as he drove backward
to avoid a crash.

“There’s another one behind us,” Alana cried, twisting to
see another SUV blocking their exit.

Sam stomped on the accelerator. “Put on a seatbelt, Alana,”
he instructed as the truck shot backward.

She fumbled for the belt. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the hell out of here.”

“But we’re fenced in.”

Sam didn’t waver from driving. “Not for long.”

Unable to look away, Alana watched as they approached the
vehicle blocking from behind. When Sam didn’t slow down or stop, she braced for
impact.

“Get down,” Sam ordered.

Alana ducked down in the seat as they hit. The seatbelt cut
into her chest. Her purse flew off her lap onto the floor. The other SUV hit
them from the front, not as hard, but enough to jolt her in her seat.

“Go, go, go!” Mercer shouted.

Sam twisted the wheel hard and the truck spun in a circle,
belt whining. He stomped on the gas and the truck shot forward, steam rising
from the smashed front end. Alana looked back to see one SUV had followed them
out of the alley. The other was in shambles. Two men climbed out, jumped in the
working SUV, and gave chase. She recognized one of them as Gavin’s guards from
the island. The one who had stared at her with a lascivious grin when Gavin
hadn’t been looking. A face she would never forget.

A shudder worked down her spine. Was Gavin in one of those
cars? How had he found them so quickly?

“I know that man,” she told Sam and Mercer. “Gavin brought
an army.” Gavin was a smart criminal. He wouldn’t come alone. Not up against a
mercenary. A mercenary currently in a coma.

“We can handle them,” Sam assured her as the truck made loud
squeaking noises.

A car came barreling out of nowhere. Alana screamed when it
hit them dead on. Glass shattered, metal ground as she was thrown against the
door. Steel folded around her with a deafening crunch.

Shock registered slowly. She sat there, staring at the destruction
around her, not believing what had just happened. The sound of a car door
slamming pushed her into motion. Unsnapping her seat belt with shaking hands,
she leaned forward to grab Sam’s shoulders.

“Sam! Wake up.” She pleaded with him, checked the pulse in
his neck. Strong and steady, but he was out, a bloody gash on his forehead.

Stifling a sob, she moved to Mercer, who hung half out the
window. No seatbelt. Bleeding badly. Not responding.

A movement caught her eye. She looked out the cracked windshield
to see four men approaching, armed with big guns.

“Oh, God.” She sobbed, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “Wake up.
Sam. Please. Wake up.” But he didn’t wake up. He lay there, slumped in his
seat.

Panicked, she gasped and slid back.
The gun. Find the
gun.

Searching the glass-covered seat, she tried to find it. The
floor. She bent down, frantically feeling around for it. Something clanked on
the window and she jumped, let out a scream, just as her fingers touched the
cold metal of her gun. Groping for it, she tried to wrap her shaking hand
around it.

The door jerked open. Someone grabbed her roughly by the
arm. Fighting him, she fumbled for the gun, her only chance to escape.

“Get out.”

A rough tug sent her bouncing across the seat at the same
time her hand wrapped around the gun. Swinging it upward, she thumbed the
safety and aimed it at the man trying to get her out.

“Back up.” She eased out of the truck. The men backed up a
step, not intimidated, but wary. A woman holding a gun was dangerous in more
ways than one.

Sliding out of the truck, nerves frayed, she said, “Put your
weapons on the ground.”

The men glanced at each other. She squeezed the trigger and
a bullet ripped through the pavement at their feet. They jumped back, eyes wide
in surprise. Obviously, they hadn’t thought she would do it.

“Drop them!” This time they did as told, laying their
weapons on the ground. Feeling more in control, she motioned with her gun for
them to back up. They took a hesitant step back. She herded them another step,
kicked their guns aside.

“Alana, darling, put the gun down.”

Gavin.

Turning her head without lowering the gun, she saw him
approaching, a bandage wrapped around his head and swelling on his cheek.
Hatred flowed through her like lava. This man had cost her so much. More than
any person should ever have to endure. He had stolen her father, murdered her
family, and killed Leya. Their lives meant nothing to him.
She
meant
nothing to him except for her medical skills. Those were valuable. He never
wanted her. He only wanted her talent. And now it was tainted.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned. “Or I’ll shoot.”

Gavin stopped, putting up his hands. “Don’t take it out on
my men, darling. It’s me you’re angry with.”

“Tell them to stand down,” she said.

Gavin issued an order to his men and they backed off.
Knowing they would never disobey an order, she turned the gun on him, aiming at
his chest. She could pull the trigger and stop this man from harming another
person. Put an end to this once and for all. Once Gavin was dead and buried,
she could go on with her life. Grieve. Start over. Put this behind her.

“Will you shoot me, darling?” Gavin taunted.

“You murdered my father. Everyone on that island. Leya.
Cristian is in a coma because of you.”

“Cristian?” Gavin eyes narrowed. “First name basis with the
mercenary, my darling?”

She lifted her chin. “He’s a better man than you.”

Gavin lip curled. “Shut up! You will not speak to me like
that. Give me the gun.” He held out a hand as if she would obey his order.

“No, Gavin,” she said quietly. “You’ve hurt too many people.
I can’t let you do it anymore.”

“We have an agreement.”

“No. No more agreements. I can’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to trust me. Only be part of my team.”

“Never. I will never kill for you, Gavin. Never.”

Alana squeezed the trigger.

* * * *

Dropping the gun, Alana stared at her hands. What had she
done? Taken a life with hands she’d sworn would always save lives. It clattered
to the cement, deadly steel glinting in the sunlight.

Dear God, what had she become?

Gavin lay on the ground, blood streaming out of a bullet
hole in the center of his forehead. She’d done it. She murdered a man.

Reality hit her like a ton of bricks and she spun around,
vomiting into the gutter. A cold sweat broke out all over her body, making her
shake. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t a killer. How had she come to this point in
her life?

A hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped.

“Alana. It’s okay. It’s Sam.”

Sam? She looked up to see a bloody, battered Sam standing
over her. And behind him, with a gun trained on the four men stood Mercer,
looking like death warmed over.

“Sam?” Her voice wavered. “I shot him. I killed Gavin.”

He shook his head. “You hit the building behind him, Doc.
Mercer’s bullet put him down.”

Letting him help her up, she clung to the truth. “Are you
sure?”

“One hundred percent. We gotta get out of here before the
cops arrive. Wait for us in the truck?”

“But it’s smashed.”

“She’ll run. Now, go, while I clean up this mess.”

Nodding, Alana limped back to the truck on legs that shook.
She climbed into the backseat and closed the door, huddled in the corner, and
waited. Within minutes, the four men were unconscious and trussed like Sunday
chickens for the police. Sam retrieved the gun and bullet casings, wiping away
any trace they had ever been there.

By time they left, sirens were blaring in the distance.
Exhausted, she leaned against the door and watched the city pass by. She had
been through an emotional wringer. What she’d thought she’d done had turned out
to be wrong. Thank the Lord. She didn’t have to live with the repercussions of
actually killing a man in cold blood. But she did have to live with the fact
she’d pulled the trigger. Somehow, she’d developed the ability to take a life
even though it went against her moral fiber.

What turned an ordinary person into a killer? She had
resorted to her most primal animal, relying on basic instinct and survival. Was
this how Cristian felt when he did a job?

“It’s over now, Doc,” Sam said quietly from the driver’s
seat.

Alana closed her eyes without responding. It wasn’t over.
She had her nightmares to contend with. And she wasn’t the woman she’d thought.
She might never be again.

That scared her more than her uncertain future.

* * * *

Slade forced his eyes open, the abyss fading slowly,
painfully from his mind. Feeling like he was returning from a deep sleep, he
looked around. Hospital. IV. Monitor attached to stickers on his chest. Blinds
open to allow sunlight. Blinking against the brightness, he took stock of his
limbs. All were there. Though his head felt like it was splitting in two and he
was weak as a babe.

The door opened and Alana walked in, limping on a cast. Her
eyes filled with tears when she saw him.

“Cristian,” she breathed and rushed to his side. She wrapped
her arms around him and when he held her, he felt her trembling. “Thank God
you’re awake.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She pulled away, sat in the chair next to his bed, but
didn’t let go of his hand. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face
was drawn and pale. “It’s over, Cristian,” she said. “Gavin is dead.”

Not what he’d expected to hear. How long had he been out?
“When?”

“This morning. That’s what took us so long to get here.”

“Us?”

“Sam is here with Mercer. They haven’t let me out of their
sight.”

He nodded. While he had been away, they had taken over
Alana’s protection. Without a second thought. So that’s what having good
friends meant.

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “Are you all right?” He
would get the details from Ryden and Mercer later. The last thing he wanted
Alana to do was re-live what happened.

“I took your gun, Cristian. From the apartment,” she said
quietly.

Silent, he waited.

“I shot at Gavin. I wanted to kill him for all the pain he’s
caused me.”

“Shot at?” he questioned, his gut sinking. He wanted more
than anything for her to tell him she hadn’t been the one to take Ross down.
She should never have to live with that.

“I didn’t murder him. I missed. It was Mercer’s bullet that
killed him.” Her breath hitched and she shuddered. “I’m sorry. You just woke
up. I shouldn’t burden you with this. How are you feeling?”

He tilted her chin, forced her to look at him. “It’s no
burden. And you are not that woman.”

Her eyes glistened with tears. “I feel like I am. Like Gavin
changed me.”

“He did. He made you stronger.”

“I don’t feel strong,” she whispered, leaning into his hand
now caressing the soft skin of her cheek.

“You are the strongest woman I know. You’ll be fine.”