Edge of the Heat 2 (Westwood Harbor Corruption) (5 page)

The bar hadn
’t noticed yet, although Norman was positive the bouncers had been watching him since he walked in. They noticed, they knew, he was sure.

Saint smiled his own deadly smile. “
That all you got?” He kicked his right leg back into a fighting stance and put his hands up. With his left he motioned ‘come on’ to Norman.

Norman assumed his own fighting stance. This guy knew how
to fight. Norman would see what he had and then pull out his backups if he needed to. For the first time since he walked into the police station his agitations were truly gone. All that existed was this man, this bar, this beating, and the soup of adrenaline and cortisol rushing through his veins. Fighting worked way better than sex.

The bar had noticed now. The music was still playing but people were yelling and starting to circle them. The bouncers hovered outside the circle, ready to break up any side fi
ghts or pull off anyone who decided to help Saint. They knew the drill when Norman walked in. It always ended in a fight, and if they pulled Norman off anyone or didn’t pull friends off Norman, one of them was getting arrested for something they may or may not have done. Norman was a smart bastard who kept his ear to the ground and kept files on everyone.

Norman threw the first punch. A high hook to the right. Saint blocked it and countered to Norman
’s jaw. Norman pulled back but was grazed. Damn, this man was probably professionally trained. That was probably good though, Norman liked to fight dirty. Usually the guys who were boxers just boxed.

They circled for a second without much room. Norman stepped inside quickly and went for an eye with an open, rigid
hand. Saint bobbed then danced away and chuckled a little. Norman thought he heard Saint mutter ‘baby move’ under his breath. He would pay for that.

Norman stopped advancing and stood there. “
So I underestimated you. What say we just forget this thing?”

Saint relaxed a little and laughed again. “
Sure fella, whatever you say.”

Norman dropped his guard and put his hand out. Saint ignored it, watching him.
Fucker.
Now Norman was getting pissed. This guy was too quick but Norman was itching to get in there and land some blows. Saint would just side-step him if he rushed him. He needed to get Saint angry and on the offensive.

“
Nothing to see here folks, break it up,” he told the crowd, who backed up. The bouncers warily exchanged glances but stayed put. Norman pulled over a chair and sat down next to the booth where Saint had been talking to the women. He tipped a wink to the woman who had looked excited before. She was in her 30s, long brown hair, and too much makeup wearing a tight black bustier that practically spilled her boobs out the top. “So what was so interesting about that pussy?” he asked her loudly.

The three other women at the booth eyed him warily, but the one he winked at giggled merrily. She loved this kind of shit. He was glad she didn
’t seem to have any attraction to Saint or Norman probably would have felt her jump on his back and hit him with a beer bottle.

He watched Saint out of the corner of his eye - he was standing where Norman had left him, probably trying to decided if he really wanted
to fight or not. Norman had no doubt that Saint could kick his ass in an honest fight, but Norman wouldn’t fight honestly and Saint probably knew it.

Saint walked over to the bar and ordered a beer. Norman had to shift in his seat to see him. When he sat
down on the bar stool Norman stood up and rushed him, landing a hard hit to the temple. Saint fell off the seat onto the floor. Norman jumped on top of him and hit blow after blow, head, nose, chin. Blood spouted out of Saint’s nose and soaked everything, making Norman’s fists slide against Saint’s face. Hands grabbed Norman from behind and hauled him up.

“
That was dirty fightin’” a huge biker yelled in his face. The smell of stale beer and bad breath assaulted Norman. “You get the hell out of here!”

Norma
n snuck a hand in his pocket and brought the hand out with his brass knuckle duster on his middle finger. He grabbed the biker by the shirt and pounded him hard to the temple. The biker’s face sliced open from eye to ear and a flap of skin dangled down an inch. A woman screamed behind them and the crowd pressed in again. Norman shoved the biker backwards and whirled around towards Saint. Saint had stood up and was eying the hand with the knuckle duster warily, sneaking glances at the bouncers for help, blood running down his face and soaking his shirt. He grabbed a beer bottle off the counter and waited for Norman to come again.

Norman stood up straight, grinning. He knew exactly what he was going to do about that fucker Masterson. He headed for the bar exit
past everyone backpedaling to get out of his way.

Emma couldn
’t believe her luck. Agent Kinkaid said he wanted her safe, but he couldn’t spare any manpower so he was going to get her a cot and talk the doctors into letting her sleep in Craig’s room. Ordinarily overnight visitors were never allowed in the ICU. He also said he was going to try to get her a look at Craig’s chart.

She had stolen a second away with Jerry to ask him to go get the car and he had said sure. He also said he would go to
her house and get her a bag with some shower items and some clothes. She really owed him dinner or three dinners or something when this was all over. He had said he had news too but he would wait to share it until things were calmer. She hadn’t even bugged him. She could only think of herself and Craig right now. She hoped that didn’t make her a bad friend.

When she walked back up to Craig
’s room, she got a much different reception from the two men there this time. They smiled and introduced themselves. Their names were Adrian and Bret. She already forgot who was who but she tried not to beat herself up. She was surprised she could remember her own name at the moment.

She pushed open the door to Craig
’s room and peeked inside. A nurse stood over the bed, bandage in hand.

“
Hi,” Emma said. She had seen this nurse before in the E.R. a few times. Her name tag said Katy, with a big yellow smiley sticker on it.

“
Hi,” the nurse said back and busied herself with the bandage on Craig’s face.

“
So you are going to sleep here tonight? That’s unusual,” Katy said while she worked.

Emma eased into the room and sank onto the small cot on the other side of the bed, pushed into the corner. “
I know. I can’t believe they are going to let me.”

“
Me neither,” Katy said sharply.

Emma
wasn’t sure what that meant so she just kept quiet.

Emma laid down and closed her eyes, just for a second, boots and uniform still on. She kept her mind busy trying to make some sense out of the day and everything she had learned. Norman was being invest
igated by the FBI? She never had gotten any answers to her questions to Agent Kinkaid either. How did he know her name? Why had Craig been wearing a bulletproof vest? And the FBI? Thinking about it, she was so glad it was the FBI investigating this, and not the local cops, but why, how had that happened?

Emma
’s questions drifted through her mind slowly. They took on a lyrical quality, lulling her deeper and deeper. She fell asleep within 2 minutes, worn out from head to toe.

Dimly, some part of her was awa
re when people entered or exited the room. Nurses came and went. She overheard a conversation between a doctor and a nurse about reducing medication. The sun rose. Jerry brought a bag in the room, then took her boots off and covered her with a blanket. More nurses. The sun set again. Agent Kinkaid came into the room and slipped a folder under her cot. A nurse came in to check on Craig but also grasped her wrist and checked her pulse.
I’m fine, just tired,
Emma tried to send to her telepathically.

At 4:15 a.
m., the time she normally would have been rising for work, she woke, alert and full of questions. She looked around the dark room and tried to gauge how much of what she thought had happened really had, and what was a dream. Had she really slept for about 28 hours straight? Here was her bag, and the blanket. Here was the folder. She looked at Craig. No change. Her neck was stiff and her lower back a little sore. Her stomach was completely empty and her bladder totally full. She needed some water fast, and then a bathroom. She looked around, not wanting to leave the room just yet.

She checked the bag Jerry had brought her and sure enough, there were two water bottles and some energy bars from her pantry with her clothes. Emma drank both the water bottles emp
ty first, and then shoved both of the energy bars in her mouth, barely stopping to chew. As she ate she prodded the bandage on her arm, trying to assess how well the cut was healing without actually seeing it. Everything seemed to be OK.

She got up and cro
ssed to Craig. The bandage still covered much of his face and he still had the tube down his throat, breathing for him. His skin color was good though; She thought he looked much better than before she fell asleep. She smoothed his hair down and whispered in his ear “Hi Sweetie, I’m here. I’m going to leave the room for 20 minutes, but I’ll be back.”

She went back to the cot and grabbed her bag, shoving the file that Agent Kinkaid had brought her into it. She headed to the door, opened it an inch and peeked
out. She was happy to see two FBI agents still outside the room. One was asleep in the chair and one was standing, probably trying hard to stay awake. Oh, that was Officer Kinkaid sleeping, she noticed. She wondered if he was pulling 24 hour duty here. Now that her mind was rested and sharp again she started to think about how strange he seemed during their interview, like he was emotionally involved in this case.

She didn
’t recognize the other agent. She pushed the door open far enough that she could tiptoe out of it. He snapped his head around to look at her. “Hi,” she whispered. “If I go use the bathroom will you let me back in?”

“
Yes, bosses orders you are allowed in the room,” he said, his voice pitched low.

Phew. Emma headed to the bathroom, changed
her clothes to jeans and a dark blue pullover, plus comfy sneakers, then washed up in the sink the best she could. She left the bathroom intending to find some more food. Agent Kinkaid was waiting outside for her.

He smiled faintly. “
Sleeping Beauty is awake.”

“
Yeah, what was that about? Did I miss anything?”

His smile widened and he almost seemed about to laugh. But then the smile fell away. “
You had a rough day. I’m not surprised you slept so long. And no, you didn’t miss anything. Are you going to find some food?”

She nodded.

“Mind if I tag along?”

“
Please,” she said, heading for the elevator.

They went down to the cafeteria, Emma grabbing fruit and pastries plus three little cartons of milk. She would have loved t
o have bacon and eggs but the grill didn’t open till 6, a sign said. Agent Kinkaid got some coffee. They paid and sat down at a table.

“
Did you read through his chart yet? I was hoping you would interpret it for me. The doctor and I keep playing phone tag and the nurses just say ‘you have to talk to the doctor.’”

Emma looked at him inquisitively. “
Is that what’s in the folder?”

He nodded.

She opened her bag and pulled it out. “I’ll do it right now.”

She opened the chart, flipping to the back to read it from
the beginning. It started with the notes in the E.R., a few scribbled lines about where and how he was found. He was typed and crossmatched immediately and had a wide open flow of donor blood within 10 minutes. X-ray found no spinal issues but did find one bullet lodged in his cheek. It had smashed a molar on the way there.

Emma
’s hands flew to her mouth. She’d personally seen several gunshot victims and even watched a few die in front of her, but she hadn’t loved any of them. This was much harder.

The ch
art noted he was wearing a bullet proof vest with a bullet in the back of it. They had removed the vest and found his back black and blue from the impact.

A physical exam found a bullet wound in the back of his neck. This bullet traveled through his neck t
o his skull, around the skull, and into his cheek, lodging there. There were many more small wounds in the back of his head. Examination of his helmet found a bullet had shattered the back of it, but not penetrated all the way through. The part of the helmet facing his skull was battered and bulging, causing these small plastic shrapnel wounds.

Three bullets. He
’d been shot once in the back and twice in the back of the head. Emma felt sick. If he hadn’t been wearing that bulletproof vest he’d be dead.

She
relayed all of this to Agent Kinkaid. He nodded. He knew this part.

“
Agent Kinkaid, do you know why he was wearing a bulletproof vest?” Emma asked slowly, emotion still clogging her throat, one tear winding its way down her cheek.

He reached out and took
her hand and nodded. “I do, and I’ll tell you why when you are done reading the chart,” he said softly. “And call me Hawk.”

Emma looked in his eyes and knew something had changed in the last 28 hours while she
’d been asleep. He trusted her now, or wanted to treat her like a friend. Something. “Hawk.” She tried it out, then nodded.

He let go of her hand and she turned the page. Craig had been rushed straight to surgery. The bullet in his cheek had been removed, the smashed molar had been pulled, and his nec
k had been opened up to see what else was damaged in that sensitive area. His skull was grooved, but fully intact. The bullet had entered incredibly close to his spine, and the swelling in the back of his neck was extreme. His jugular vein had been nicked, but his jugular artery, not touched. Emma’s eyes flew over the surgery notes. She couldn’t believe how lucky he’d been. Everything had been fixed. A full recovery was expected.

So why was he still unconscious?

Emma turned the page. The surgeon had recommended a medically induced coma for 48 hours to let the swelling go down in his neck before he started moving around. There had been a bit of swelling on the brain too because of the groove in his skull, and the surgeon was afraid the pressure in his head would cause him to thrash and permanently injure his neck if they had let him wake before that.

Emma skimmed through the last 24 hours of notes. Great vital signs. All positive indications of healing. Signs of the swelling going down. His medication would be
reduced starting at 6 o’clock this morning and he could wake as early as 10! Relief flooded her. She was going to get him back. He was going to be ok.

“
Hawk, they’re going to wake him up today!” She stood up and grabbed her stuff, intending to run all the way back to the ICU.

“
Wait, wait, Emma. What time?”

She stopped and looked at the clock on the wall. “
Well, they are going to start reducing his meds in about an hour.”

“
OK, so we have time. Sit, tell me what else the chart said.”

“
It says he’s going to be fine. The bullet hit a big vein and touched his skull but didn’t shatter it. His spine was bruised too, but should be fine. That’s why he’s been unconscious. They’ve kept him under with drugs so the swelling in his spine could go down.”

“
He’s going to recover then?” Hawk’s face was tight and guarded.

“
A full recovery is expected. Everything was fixed in surgery.”

Hawk
’s face was unreadable for a moment. His eyes looked dead and dull. Emma couldn’t tell if he was upset, or struggling with something. Her eyebrows creased together. “Hawk?”

He crumpled. His hand covered his eyes and he took a deep, shaky breath like he was trying not to cry. Emma knew right then why Craig had been wearing a bullet proof vest and how the FBI knew about Craig being
hurt so quickly. She gave Hawk a few minutes to recover his control before continuing. “Hawk, I know you are running this show, but I think it’s time you tell me what’s really going on here.”

Hawk wiped his eyes and gave her that faint smile again. “
I’m going to Emma. But you have to promise me one thing. That you won’t think any differently of Craig when you hear it.”