Fatal Exposure - By Gail Barrett Page 0,85

orders to kill you. I’m not the only one who wants you dead.”

Parker blinked, her revelation making him pause. Someone else wanted to kill them? “Like who?”

But Lieutenant Lewis only shook her head. “I can’t tell you that. This thing is huge. It goes way up the chain. Powerful people are involved, more than you’ll ever guess. You have no idea how big this is.”

She cocked the hammer on her gun.

Parker’s pulse raced. Knowing he only had seconds, he ran his finger over the buttons, trying to decide which one to push. He didn’t dare hit them all and risk tipping Lieutenant Lewis off.

Sweat popped out on his brow. He tried to envision the remote control, but he’d hardly glanced at it as he’d shoved it aside. He slid his finger to the button in the center, then paused.

Brynn cleared her throat. He spared her a glance, and she raised her chin in a barely perceptible nod. His heart warming, he sent her a mental thanks, then jabbed the button to call the nurse.

A signal trilled down the hall. The red light beside the bed turned on. Parker silently swore, hoping Lieutenant Lewis wouldn’t attribute it to him.

But then a shout rang out. Footsteps pounded in the hall. Lieutenant Lewis glanced at the light, and fury blazed through her eyes. She jerked her gun toward Brynn. “Don’t move or she’s dead,” she warned, freezing Parker in place.

The door swung open behind her, and Enrique Delgado appeared in the room, flanked by several cops. They all had their weapons drawn.

“Drop your weapon,” Delgado ordered.

The lieutenant stilled. Fear flashed through her gaze, every shred of color fading from her face. But her gun never veered from Brynn.

Parker sat frozen in horror, understanding how this would end. The lieutenant knew she couldn’t escape. She wouldn’t leave here alive. But if she was going to die today, she intended to take someone down with her—Brynn.

The lieutenant’s hand began to shake. Sweat glistened on her waxy face. Then her expression changed, her eyes filling with resignation. And Parker knew in that instant she was going to shoot.

Desperation screamed through his skull. He had to do something. He had to stop her somehow. But the slightest move, and Brynn would die.

Her trigger finger moved. Knowing it was hopeless, Parker dove off the bed toward Brynn, flinging himself toward her with all his strength. But she was too far away.

The gun went off, the suppressor silencing all but a quiet pop. Brynn cried out. Her eyes flew to his, her shock turning to pain. Blood welled through her shirt. She clutched her chest with her free hand and staggered toward him, then sank to the tiled floor.

Gunfire broke out, the officers mowing down Terry Lewis where she stood.

But he’d arrived too late to save Brynn.

Chapter 18

The rules be damned.

Flanked by half a dozen guards, Parker strode down the hallway to Brynn’s hospital room the following afternoon, determined to get inside. He was still pushing his IV pole, still wearing the ridiculous, open-backed hospital gown, but he’d added a robe and socks. Police swarmed the hall. Access to the floor was tightly restricted, the security extreme. In the twenty-four hours since that shooting, he hadn’t spent a single moment alone.

Outside the hospital was even worse. This was the biggest story to hit Baltimore in decades. It was a complete media circus with news vans and reporters everywhere. And every law enforcement agency in the region had flooded the hospital—state and city police, the ATF and FBI.

A nurse trotted up beside him. “Excuse me, sir. You need to get back into bed. You’re not authorized to get up yet.”

“Try to stop me,” he muttered, striding past her. He’d twiddled his thumbs long enough. He wasn’t going to wait another second to see the woman he loved—no matter what the regulations said.

He neared Brynn’s room—obvious by the armed guards blocking the door—the desperate need to see her hardening his resolve. Watching Lieutenant Lewis shoot Brynn had been the worst moment of his life—worse than seeing Hoffman hold her at gunpoint, worse than hearing about her abuse, worse even than learning about Tommy’s death. He’d never recover from that heart-stopping moment when he’d thought that she was dead.

And he’d been frantic ever since—during the hours she’d spent in surgery, during the night as she’d lain in the ICU, hovering between life and death. Now they’d finally moved her to a recovery room under heavy police protection, refusing to let him near.

But