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I scowl when he shrugs and leans forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “Second of all,” I continue. “Why are you leaving Detective Fletcher and Officer Clay with me, but not Detective Malone?”
“Because I believe in keeping one’s enemies close.”
I bring my coffee up and take a contemplative sip. This is how the ducks do it, right? Calm above the water, and complete heart-pounding chaos beneath the surface. “You think Detective Malone is our enemy?”
“I think he’s not my friend.” Again, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “And for as long as he’s not, I’m keeping him with me when I can’t be with you. I’ll be a couple of hours, probably. And I won’t be able to focus if he’s here with you and letting the wrong people through the gates.”
“But you trust Detective Fletcher to do the right thing?”
“IhopeDetective Fletcher would do the right thing. He has a daughter to take care of, and he can’t afford to lose his job… or die.” Drake flashes a sadistic grin that warns me,don’t fuck with Drake Banks. “Officer Clay has no connections whatsoever to the Malone family or any of its subsidiaries. He’s just a beat cop who transferred across sometime last year. He’s not taking any money from Malone, and his father is a respected Copeland City representative. So as far as I can see, he keeps shit clean.”
“And how do you know that someone is, or is not, accepting money from someone else?”
“I have friends in high places.” He reaches across and nudges my coffee up. “Hurry. Fletcher and Malone are here already.”
“They are?” I turn in my seat and glance along the hall to find two pairs of eyes watching me in the darkness. I startle in my chair and squeak when coffee sloshes over the side of my cup and plops into my lap. “Jesus! You were there the whole friggin’ time?” Then panicked, I shoot a look at Drake. “You speak about them,knowingthey’re there?”
“I shoot straight with everyone.” He pushes up to stand tall and grabs squares of paper towels from the back wall. He splits his stash in two, hands half to me, and uses the rest to clean up the spilled coffee on the counter. “I figure it’s only fair that everyone knows where I stand. Always. Malone knows what I think of him, and so does Fletcher. Clay isn’t here, but I figure my ‘he’s clean and I have no beef with him,’ is kind enough to not count as gossiping.” He reaches across and takes my mug and paper towel. “Put your shoes on. Your ten minutes is officially up.”
* * *
“We’re approaching through the west wing entrance.”
Archer drives, and Detective Fletcher takes the passenger seat beside him. Drake sits on my left, in the back, and speaks for, well, everyone, I guess.
“Underground parking lot,” he continues. “Employee only elevator. Number one is cleared and waiting for our exclusive use.” He glances down at me, his eyes dropping when I realize my bottom lip is trapped between my teeth. “Your mother has been moved to the fifth floor.”
“She has?” I glance through the car windows as Detective Malone brings us into the underground garage as the artificial light flickers on. “Why was she moved?”
“For our visit. The first rule of not getting shot in the head, Little Bird, is to not be where the bad guys expect you to be. Your mother has relocated to the maternity ward temporarily, which is doubly secure and accessible only through passcodes. She has her own room, and security on the doors, and even if Vallejo has men inside the hospital, they won’t know where she is, and they won’t be able to access her even if they find out.”
“And the moms and babies?” I question, the car’s tires squeaking against the smooth concrete floor. “If Vallejo’s people come for me, and go through her? All those brand-new moms are at risk when they’re already unbelievably vulnerable.”
“They’re safe,” Archer cuts in. “No one knows she was moved. We have men on her old room door, and a dummy in her bed for anyone who wants to look through the windows. She was moved out during the night whenonlysecure personnel were in house. The hospital security is on high alert, knowing her connection to you, and yours to Vallejo. The entire city is on alert,” he adds. “The hospital is a high-risk area, and they’re not just gonna leave their patients in danger.”
“Protocol is being followed,” Drake continues. “We have uniforms on every entry and exit. Employees are screened and re-screened before every shift, and no onenewis caring for your mother. Only the same faces that’ve been with her since she was admitted.”
“The reality,” Fletcher inserts as Archer brings our car to a stop, “is that you’re more at risk in transit than you are inside the hospital. The garage is secure too, but not nearly as secure as we’ll be once we’re inside.”
“So let’s go.” Drake opens his door and steps out, taking a gun from his shoulder holster; the silver glint sets my pulse racing. Then he blocks the entire door, leaving just enough room for me to slide out when I’m ready. The other detectives do the same, exiting the car and fanning out to make sure no one sneaks up on us. “Little Bird?”
I whip my head around, away from the windows I watch the other cops through, and up to find Drake’s penetrating stare beating against mine. He gifts me with a small, sweet smile and offers a hand. “You gotta get out of the car. This is the least safe we’ll be today, so although I wanna let you do you and take your time, I’d really prefer you didn’t die. So get the fuck,” his smile grows larger, and his fingers curl to draw my attention, “out of the car.”
I swallow down a massive lump of nerves and clear my throat before I risk death—choking on my own spit would be something Judy Jinx tosses my way for fun—then setting my hand in his so his callused palm tickles mine and his fingers wrap around my wrist, I allow him to tug me out and bring me to my feet.
Our bodies touch. His chest against mine and his thighs hugging my thighs. Our breath mingles in the early morning quiet before the city wakes, but he takes a step back, breaking the electrical current my imagination conjures purely for my own torment.
Maybe it’s because I’m young. Maybe it’s those dreaded daddy issues my mother promises me. Or maybe I’m justthatstupid. I’m running from killers this week and preparing to bury my mother next week. Drake Banks is older than me by a long shot. His career makes him my caregiver, not my friend. And yet, my heart races just a little faster when our eyes meet.
So fucking stupid.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching back into the car to grab my cane before setting one end on the ground and the other in my hand. “Stay with me.” He turns but wraps his hand around mine to lead me. “Look everywhere, Aurora. Stay behind me. If anyone opens fire, you drop and roll.”
For a moment in time, even when it felt dumb, I got to experience my heart fluttering for a man. But that moment was fleeting and now it’s gone, and instead, replaced with a thundering pulse at the prospect of outrunning bullets… again.
“Approaching elevator one now,” Archer rumbles, darting forward to hit the button. “Uniforms ready on five?”
“Ready on five,” someone’s voice crackles through a radio. “The hall is clear.”
