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“What's our plan?” Tori asked.

They had to be nearing the side of the ship. From there, they could find a way off, and hopefully CJ.

“Find a ride, maybe two, and get out of here,” Emery said, collecting his thoughts.

“What then? Kathy needs a doctor.”

God, she was amazing. This was the most stressful situation of her life, and she hadn't broken under the pressure.

They turned and surveyed the marina.

“There.” Emery pointed to their left.

A set of stairs led from the deck down to the dock on their left. They had an open shot, but it would also leave them vulnerable. Except a car idled below. A man got out, a man who looked an awful lot like CJ.

“Oh, thank God.” Tori took off for the stairs, Emery close behind her.

“One of us needs to go for Gabriel. He's too vulnerable at a hospital by himself. Shit is about to hit the fan. You drop Kathy at a hospital, make sure CJ keeps pressure on that wound. I'll get Gabriel, then we meet at the Shop.” He wanted to believe that the Shop was safe and secure, but with the hit team and Eleventh after them, he had to operate as if they could expect an attack at any moment. Besides, it was still their safest and best-stocked location to meet up.

“Sounds good,” Tori said.

They took the stairs two and three at a time. The skin on the back of Emery's neck prickled.

A blast broke the stillness, pinging off metal above them.

“Hurry up, you two,” CJ yelled. His voice sounded strained. The man had to be close to his breaking point.

Their feet hit the dock running. Emery hated to see Tori sprinting away from him, but they had a job to do and Kathy's life depended on it.

He unlocked Canales's cherry-red monstrosity and dropped into the driver's seat. The cab light briefly illuminated what he had to work with. No backseat and the passenger seat was gone, to make way for a rig of NOS tanks, plus row upon row of switches. He had no idea what each of them did.

The red car revved to life.

Tori's silver car reversed. He hoped they got out of there fast.

Three men leapt and sprinted down the stairs, followed by a fourth. Canales.

Emery stomped on the accelerator as he shifted into reverse. The car shot backward and he twisted, following Tori's taillights. The report of gunfire blasted over the distant sound of sirens. He cranked the hand brake and shifted into drive the moment his wheels touched the street. There were still three cars in the lot, plus the injured guy and the kid he hadn't seen. Soon, they'd all be on their tail.

A third car swerved into Emery's rearview mirror. The kid? Maybe.

Behind them, Canales took to the wheel of another car while Emery peeled down the street. Tori's lights were gone. They couldn't go to the same hospital. It would just paint a target on Kathy.

What hospital was Gabriel at? Emery had a good idea, but he couldn't be sure. Smith hadn't told him that detail, had he?

A phone blared from a slot in the dash.

Emery reached for it, glancing at the screen.

He ignored the call and dialed. Headlights lit up his rearview mirror.

The phone rang once, twice.

“Miami-Dade Police Department. How may I—”

“Detective Matt Smith. This is FBI Special Agent Emery Martin. I need Matt. Now.” He didn't often utter FBI and his name in the same sentence. It was a jarring reality compared to the way his life had played out.

“Yes—uh—one moment.”

Emery winced, ducking his head and swerving. Bullets hit the street and the back of the car. He dropped the phone into his lap and shifted.

Shit.

He took a right and gunned the engine, speeding toward the highway.

“Emery?”

Emery jabbed the speaker icon.

“Matt, it's Emery. Where is Gabriel?”

“Kindred Hospital on Eighth. Is someone shooting at you?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“Where are you?”

“Almost to ninety-five.” But he couldn't get on the highway with shooters on his tail. Then again, Kindred Hospital was in a busy area near Classic Rides, and if he couldn't shake the Eleventh, they'd do some damage.

“Get me dispatch and nine-one-one.” Matt's voice was muffled.

Emery was going to get canned so fast, but at this point, what were his options? He couldn't trust the FBI to not use him as bait for whatever grand scheme was going on. They were spread too thin. The cops were the only backup they had, and they just weren't ready to take on a hit team out for blood and a well-organized criminal organization barreling down on them at full force. And tomorrow Evers would be back at the helm.

He turned the wheel, tires screeching. He narrowly made it through an intersection at the entrance to the marina. The highway was just a few short blocks away. He punched the switch he hoped was NOS. What he needed was distance, space to get away from the other cars. Or Tori next to him. He hated this, but she could put those cars out of commission with a couple bullets. He'd have to rethink her methods in the future if he was ever in a situation where driving and shooting were involved.

The car shot forward as the NOS hit the system. His body was pressed back into the seat and the speedometer topped out, rattling against the pin, leaving him with no clue how fast he was going. He zipped past slower-moving cars. His pulse pounded in his throat. His focus narrowed to the obstacles in his path and stretches of uninterrupted road.

He glanced in his rearview mirror. Damn. He didn't have anywhere near as much of a head start on the others as he wanted. The Eleventh cars were maybe fifty yards back and closing. The NOS was wearing off. Did he hit it again? It wasn't like he was concerned about maintaining his ride.

“What are you driving?” Matt's voice was a yell, probably trying to be heard over the roaring engine.

“Raibel Canales's car.” He rattled off the license plate.

“What the—?”

Emery blew out a breath he'd been holding, only to suck in deep again.

The silver Scion Tori had taken was ahead of him now.

Emery laid on the horn. If Tori didn't pull out some fancy driving, they'd be overtaken by the Eleventh.

The silver car merged into the HOV lane and shot forward. Had she been waiting for some sign of him? He couldn't be sure, but damn her for not getting her ass out of Dodge.

“Tori is with an injured agent who needs a doctor stat.” While every fiber in his body resisted revealing information, he knew they needed help. And who could they trust if not Matt Smith? The man was turning out to be an asset they hadn't expected.

“Fuck,” Matt growled. “I've got units coming to you. They'll do what they can.”

“That's all I'm asking for.”

A black car with a custom swirl pattern on the side was the closest to them. Emery jerked his ride between two cars, cutting it close. He prayed the civilians on the road would be okay. A figure leaned out of the black car, a gun in their hand.

“Shit.”

Emery punched the NOS and swerved. The shooter didn't take the shot, which was a good sign, except for the gun. He ate up the ground between him and Tori, and she never once accelerated.

“Come on, Tori, go.”

“What's going on?” Matt called.

“I've got a shooter and Tori's not driving fast enough.”

What was going wrong in the car ahead of him for her to be that distracted?

Chapter Sixteen

“CJ. CJ. Hold on to her.” Tori gripped the wheel in both hands, trying not to look at Kathy.

God, the sounds she was making, they weren't good, and she was bleeding heavily again. The blood already coated CJ, the seat, and the passenger window. How could one person bleed so much?

Canales's red car shot past her with Emery at the wheel.

“Oh fuck,” she muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Kathy, listen to me.” CJ's voice broke.

She whispered something that might have been, “It hurts.”

“I know.” He stroked her face. “I love you. Hang on.”

“No, seriously, hang on.” Tori hadn't wanted to flip any of the switches on the silver Scion. Who the hell knew what they did? She'd need to examine the system to determine how the upgrades were installed, but she didn't have that luxury. It was time to flip them all and see what happened.

“Hang on, Kathy, do you hear me?”

Tori opened the plastic case over the switches. What had she seen this car do? There were hydraulics, NOS, and what else?

She'd expect NOS to be easy to activate.

There were two switches a little bit apart from the others. She toggled the first and heard a hiss from the canister behind her. That was somewhat good. She flipped the second. It clicked into place. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the NOS hit the fuel system. The car shuddered. Exactly how much had she sent to the fuel line?

The car leapt forward. She jerked them out of the HOV lane and swerved around slower-moving traffic. They drew even with Emery's car. She glanced over, but couldn't make out his profile in the tinted windows.

“Hold on, Kathy,” CJ continued to chant.

They couldn't lose Kathy.

She shut out the sound of CJ's voice. Emery was going to Kindred, but there was no reason for them to go that far. They just needed a hospital with a doctor and enough bagged blood to pump back into Kathy.

Tori hunched down in her seat, her focus on the road ahead.

“You hold on, Kathy,” CJ yelled. “You hear me? Hold on.” He was crying. She'd never seen CJ anything but calm or pissed off.

“We're almost there,” she lied, but what else could she do?

A white H on a blue background was mounted to a light post.

Hospital.

Kathy's breath rattled in her lungs.

Oh God, Tori knew that sound.

“Almost there, Kathy.” Hot tears bathed her cheeks.

She hit the off-ramp, easing off the accelerator, but it didn't make a lot of difference. The car was still too fast. She pulled the hand brake and turned the wheel. They coasted through the intersection, going sideways. Two cars jerked away to avoid hitting her. She punched the gas, following close on the bumper of an ambulance with its lights on.

They pulled into the ER breezeway.

“No, no, no!” CJ's voice grew steadily louder.

She couldn't look. Kathy had to be alive. They'd just gotten to the hospital.

Tori jumped out of the car, her hands up. Two officers near the door were already reaching for their weapons.

“FBI, we need help, agent down.”

That got their attention. The officers were there first, opening the doors while paramedics rushed out, wheeling a gurney after them. Tori backed up three steps.

CJ screamed.

“No.” She bent her knees and held her head between her hands.

They'd gotten out. They were free. She should have been able to hold on a little longer. That's how these things went, right? The good guys got to be patched up. They lived. And yet, she knew CJ's sobs would haunt her nightmares.

A man like CJ only cried for two things. The birth of a baby, and the death of his heart.

Kathy was his heart.

She might have been an agent, but she'd treated them all like family, pulling them in and making this operation work on more than rules and regulations. She'd gotten them to function as a unit because you didn't say no to Kathy.

Tori straightened, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. One of the officers glanced up at her, his expression grim.

“She's okay?” Tori asked, dreading the answer.

He didn't respond or even shake his head.

Tori covered her face with both hands. What was the point of this if the ones closest to her died?

Tires squealed on the road and a siren wailed.

She turned.

A car with neon running lights took the corner at a high speed.

The Eleventh.

“Get down,” she yelled, the same moment the man in the passenger seat squeezed off several rounds.

Everyone at the ER entrance hit the ground, taking cover. Tori dove for the car, throwing herself behind the rear bumper. The shots hit the palm trees and the sign mounted on the corner, maybe fifteen feet from where they were. Two patrol cars were already in pursuit, either from the Eleventh's shoddy driving or maybe Emery had gotten a call out for help.

“Ma'am.” One of the officers grabbed her arm.

She instinctively yanked out of his grip, stood and backed away.

“Detective Smith says you have to go.” The officer appeared puzzled by the order, but he wasn't stopping Tori.

She nodded and glanced at the gurney. The paramedics had pulled it parallel to the ambulance. CJ leaned over, clutching Kathy.

They hadn't even tried CPR or paddles or anything, not that Tori knew a lot about medical care beyond stitching up gashes and what it took to keep going.

“She's gone, isn't she?” Tori needed an answer.

“Yeah,” the officer said quietly.

“He's probably not going with me.” She glanced at CJ. He deserved to be with Kathy for as long as he wanted. Tori was on her own. What did she do? They'd gone years without uttering the FBI connection and now they were throwing it around. “Can you have someone call the local FBI field office?”

“Detective Smith says he's taking care of it.”

Tori nodded. Emery must have gotten through, then.

She was numb inside. Even though tears hit her cheeks, she didn't feel them, or anything. This wasn't why she'd agreed to join the FBI, so she could watch the people she'd grown to care about die. For once in her miserable life, she'd wanted to do something good. Something that made a difference.

The Eleventh and the hit team would pay for this. Tori didn't care who'd pulled the trigger. They were all guilty. And they were all dead.

* * *

Emery snagged the jacket and tablet from a table in the cafeteria of Kindred Hospital. For a Saturday night, close to midnight, it was doing steady business. He felt only a slight pang of guilt at taking the items. Head up, he strode out of the cafeteria, tugging the borrowed baseball cap lower on his face. He'd ducked into the cafeteria to miss Raibel Canales coming into the hospital with one of the hit team hot on his heels. The last thing Emery wanted was those two groups working together.

He had to get to Gabriel first, and fast.

“Hold the elevator,” he called to a nurse stepping into the first elevator.

She reached for the button pad and he jogged into the car. The skin between his shoulder blades itched, as if he were being watched. He turned, and the Eleventh kid from the cargo ship stood at the end of a hallway, phone to his ear. He'd changed his shirt, but the dark splotches on his jeans were probably blood.

His stomach sank. The race was on.

“Thanks.” He shrugged into the jacket, complete with a hospital tech name badge.

“Floor?” she asked.

“Uh . . .” He glanced at the tablet screen and clicked the button. It was locked, but she didn't have to know that. What had Smith said? “Seven, please.”

“Are they still having problems down there?” Her nose scrunched up. Another time and place, he might have taken note of her sweet face, but not anymore. He'd had a taste of Tori, and there was no going back.

“Yeah. Always something.” He sighed and shook his head.

She studied him, far too interested for his taste.

“I don't think we've met.” The nurse spoke with a smile in her voice. Yeah, she was too sweet for him.

“I'm new. That's how I got the night shift. My girlfriend's not a fan, but what are you going to do?” He shrugged and urged the car to rise faster.

The nurse shook her head. “That's the way of things.”

The elevator slowed.

“That's my floor.” He nodded at the nurse before stepping out.

He glanced left, then right.

Emery followed the arrows to the left, counting down the digits.

There weren't many people out and about in the hall. He passed a nurse on rounds, but almost all of the rooms were dark.

The elevator dinged behind him.

Room 7358.

One glance at the empty bed told him everything he dreaded.

Gabriel wasn't there.

He ducked into the next room, cringing at the click it made opening. The occupant snored, the whir and beep of the machines creating a sort of white noise.

Emery put his back against the wall and peered out through the smallest crack into the hall. For several seconds nothing happened. No one stirred.

He heard Canales's voice first, then the others. Two? Maybe three? He stepped into the shadows. It wasn't just his own safety he had to be concerned about. The patient asleep in the room was as likely to be hurt if the Eleventh burst in here wanting to grab him. He needed to find Gabriel, get to the Shop, and get ahold of Aiden and the others. God only knew where Julian was; even Emery didn't have that kind of clearance. At least he didn't have to be worried about Gabriel. The man could take care of himself probably better than the rest of them.

“He ain't here,” the kid said.

“He must have gotten to him first,” Canales said.

“How? We were right behind him.”

“Split up. They've got to be on this floor still. You come with me. You two go that way.”

Four street thugs wandering the halls—that was bound to get the nurses' attention any second. Either the situation would escalate, or security would be called in.

Emery listened to the retreating voices and the occasional squeak of sneaker tread on tile. At least the idiots made it easy to hear them retreat. When he was reasonably certain the Eleventh was out of sight, he opened the door and glanced both ways. A couple of nurses were clustered together at one end, but the coast was clear for the moment.

Had Smith called ahead to warn Gabriel or the nurses? Did Emery have time to do a room-by-room search for Gabriel? Too bad the cell phone Emery had used in the car was dead.

He kept his head down and walked away from the nurses, toward the central nurses' station on the seventh floor. This late, the lights were dim and there wasn't a lot of activity, but there were two nurses at their stations, typing away, their faces lit by the monitors.

“Can I help you?” an elegant African American woman asked without glancing up.

“I'm looking for the patient in room seven-three-five-eight.”

To her credit, she didn't flinch, gasp, or make any obvious indication those numbers meant anything, but Emery had made a study of people's bodies. It was in the way her typing slowed and the curl of her lips.

“Now why would you want to bother a sleeping patient?” she asked.

“He's not sleeping, or if he is, he's not in his room.” Emery leaned on the counter. She finally glanced up at him. He'd hate to play poker with her, because she was good, but he was better. “Two men passed by here a few moments ago. I'm willing to bet a detective by the name of Matt Smith called you maybe . . . thirty minutes ago? Where is Gabriel?”

“Sugar, you should have just said the magic words.” She tilted her head to the side. “I'll buzz you in. He's giving me a headache with all his broody silence.”

Emery glanced in the direction she indicated. The nurses' break room. It needed a keycard entry. Smart. Gabriel had to love that.

“Thank you. Have you called security yet?” He straightened.

“Your detective did one better. He's down on six. I already told him to come up once I saw those boys in the hall. They ain't going to hurt anybody, are they?”

“Not unless anyone gets in their way.”

Emery crossed to the break room and the door buzzed, the locks disengaging. He stepped into the dim room and paused to let his eyes adjust. Fabric rustled to his left.

“Gabriel?” Emery ducked and spun.

A man hunched over where Emery had just stood.

“Fuck, why didn't you say it was you?”

“You didn't ask.” He tossed the tablet down on a cot and focused on Gabriel, who'd changed from the patient gown into nurse scrubs. He didn't appear to be in too bad condition, except he seemed winded.

“What's going on?” Gabriel straightened and a bit of light fell on his face. He had a stitched-up gash along his cheekbone, a bandage across his nose, and a black eye. It wasn't the worst he'd seen Gabriel, but he'd hoped for better.

“A lot. Can you move?”

“Not fast. Whatever shit they gave me makes me dizzy.”

Emery frowned.

“Are there more scrubs?” he asked.

“In the closet,” Gabriel replied.

“We're going to need a wheelchair and your gown. Roll your pants up. I'll wheel you out of here.” He opened the closet and pulled out the first scrubs he found. They were too big, but that was a bonus. He didn't have to take off his clothes, just put the hospital getup on over them. He left the tech's jacket, keycard, and tablet in the break room. Hopefully they found their way back to the owner with no one the wiser.