Cold Shot (21 page)

Finley climbed in her car and shut the door before swallowing a handful of deep, unsteady breaths.

Declan had been shot. Griffin had been with him. What if Declan didn’t pull through? What if Griffin had been the one shot? Feelings she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge burst uncontrollably through her, trembling through her limbs with searing anxiety.

She lifted her jangling keys, willing her hand to settle so she could slide them into the ignition, when movement in her rearview mirror caught her eye.

“Hello, Dr. Scott,” the man said from the backseat.

She froze.

His gun settled against her headrest, the muzzle flush with the back of her skull.

“Wh-who . . . are you?”

“General Perera. But you, my dear, may call me Mark.”

27

G
riffin dialed Parker, his chest clamped tight.
No. No. No.

Parker finally answered on the fifth and final ring.

“Where are you guys?”

“The hospital.”

Thank you, Jesus.

“How’s Declan? What’s your ETA?”

“Fifteen. Let me talk to Finley.” He needed to hear her voice. To know she was safe.

“She’s not here yet.”

“What?” Adrenaline gushed through him, his muscles taut, twitching to move. “You just said you’re at the hospital.” Only a matter of blocks from the lab.

“Yeah. Me and Avery. Finley wanted to take her own car.”

He gripped the phone, fury boiling over. Couldn’t Parker protect anyone he loved? “I told you to
bring
her.”

“Yeah. To the hospital. She’s on her way.”

He was going to kill him.

The man he’d shot chuckled with a cough. “Told you I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

“Griff?” Parker said. “What’s going on? How’s Declan?”

“Parker! Find. Finley. Now!”

Hanging up on Parker, he dialed the precinct nearly adjacent to the lab, sending units over ASAP.

Agitation and alarm tap-danced through him as Finley’s phone went to voicemail
again
.

“Told you,” the man said, more blood gurgling up and streaming down his dimpled chin as they banked right onto MLK Boulevard.

“Five minutes out,” the paramedic said, moving to the man’s side.

Griffin balled his fists. If Finley didn’t answer it’d be the longest, most grueling five minutes of his entire life.

Lunging forward, he grabbed the man by the collar. “What does your boss want with Finley?”

The corner of his lip quirked into a half smile. “He’s going for the jugular.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning your partner is effectively out. Without you the case won’t move forward. Marley Trent was nothing but a thorn in the Bureau’s side. Everyone else will just let her case silently die. ”

“How do you know . . . Never mind.” His boss clearly had a wide reach.

“You’re it, mate. To stop you, he’s going after what you treasure.”

Finley
.

Finley’s gaze darted to the door, her body drenched with a cold sweat. “How’d you get in here?”

“We don’t have time for such details.” He glanced at his watch. “I give them three minutes.”

“Give who?”

“The police. Come now, Dr. Scott, you’re a brilliant woman. Act like it.”

“You killed Marley Trent.”

“No. Actually, I did not. Which is why I’m here.”

“You’re lying.”

“No. I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, but do you really think, given the circumstances, I’m going to believe you?”

“It’s your choice, but if you want to live I suggest you hear me out.”

She swallowed, the muzzle of his gun flush with her skull. “Don’t imagine I have much of a choice.”

“No. I don’t suppose you do.”

Sirens wailing, the ambulance pulled up to the hospital. Griffin didn’t wait for it to stop, jumping out as it slowed. Racing past the waiting paramedics, he sprinted down the freshly scrubbed hall, his shoes squeaking as he rounded the corner to the waiting area, relief staggering him at the sight of Finley sitting on one of the chairs.

It all became crystal clear—his love for her. Despite himself, he’d fallen head over heart in love with the woman.

Rushing toward her, he dropped to his knees in front of her, engulfing her in his arms.

She collapsed into his hold.

Thank you, Jesus, doesn’t even come close to the heart-rending depth of gratitude overwhelming me right now, Lord. Thank you.

He reveled in the feel of her, of
them.
He lifted his head pressing a kiss to her forehead before cupping her face in his hands and smoothing the damp hair from her brow. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her trembling easing.

“What happened?”

“Perera was waiting in my car for me.”

“I’m so sorry, Griff,” Parker said behind him.

He rose and turned with a swing, his fist colliding with Parker’s face.

Avery jumped between them. “What are you doing?”

Parker clamped his hand on Avery’s shoulder. “It’s okay, love. I deserved it.”

Griffin shook his hand, trying to shake off the fury. “You were supposed to protect her. Just like you were supposed to protect Jenna!”

Parker swallowed the knife to the gut he’d intended it to be, and horrific guilt washed over Griffin. His gut was letting him down again. Why should
he
feel guilty? Parker screwed up
again
, and it could have cost Finley her life.

“Looks like you two wasted no time in going for each other’s throats,” Kate said, strolling in. She pulled a tissue from her bag and handed it to Parker. “Right hook?”

Parker nodded, dabbing at the blood streaming down his nose.

“He’s always packed a killer hook.”

“Katie.” Griffin pressed a kiss to the top of her blond head, his fury settling. “You heard?”

“Parker called.”

At least he’d done something right.

Kate looked over her shoulder. “Dec’s family is right behind me, so I suggest you two rein this in.”

28

A
fter seeing Declan’s, Griffin’s, and Parker’s parents into the waiting room and sharing a group prayer, the five of them stepped back outside to finish their earlier conversation. The sky was black, the cloud cover thick. Rain misted, but they huddled under the eaves.

Finley studied the two blond women flanking Parker—Kate, as she’d been introduced by Parker, and Avery. Both tall and slender but athletic in build—runners, she guessed, and both tough. They eyed each other warily, as if sizing one another up.

Parker’s nose was swollen, both eyes blackening.

“What happened?” Griffin asked Finley, clearly wanting the rest of the story. But she feared saying anything that might reignite the fire smoldering barely beneath the surface between him and Parker. Who was Jenna?

“Perera wanted to talk,” she said.

Kate cocked her head, her shoulder-length blond hair slipping over her right shoulder. “Talk?”

“What did he say?” Griffin asked, his voice tight.

“He said someone else killed Marley Trent and set him up.”

“Well, that’s awfully convenient,” Parker said.

“He admitted he considered killing Marley, but someone beat him to it.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like you actually believe him.”

“Well, I’m not just going to take his word for it, but it’s curious.”

“What is?” Parker asked.

“If he’s lying, why bother coming to me and trying to convince me of his innocence?”

Griffin swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “He may have had other motives.”

“Like trying to get us to waste our time looking elsewhere,” Parker said.

“To what purpose?” she asked. “If he’s guilty, the evidence will track back to him.”

“If?”
Parker said. “Come on, Finley. Don’t tell me you actually believe the man?”

“He admitted his intent to kill Marley.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s big of him.”

“He claims someone beat him to it.”

“So does this ‘
someone
,’” Parker said with air quotes, “have a name?”

“He said that’s where we come in.”

“He expects us to overlook the evidence pointing to him and go in search of another suspect?”

Finley looked at Griffin. “I’m not saying I believe him, but what if he’s telling the truth?”

Parker shook his head. “How can you even entertain the idea? Declan’s in surgery now because of Perera’s man.”

“So the man works for Perera?”

“Admitted as much,” Griffin said. “Referred to him as the devil.”

Parker leaned against the doorframe. “Charming.”

“Where is he now? The man? Please tell me he’s in custody?” Finley asked.

“Griffin got him. He’s in surgery too.” Parker looked to Griffin. “Good job, by the way.”

Griffin nodded.

Kate turned to Finley and asked, “And Perera?”

“We spotted squad car lights and then everything went black. Next thing I know Parker is waking me up and Perera is nowhere to be seen. We got here only minutes before you arrived.”

Three hours later the surgeon emerged. The entire waiting room, consisting of nearly their entire hometown of Chesapeake Harbor, stood.

The surgeon removed his cap with a sigh and Griffin’s breath hitched.

“He’s going to be okay. Not overnight. He’s going to require recovery time, but he’ll pull through.”

“When can we see him?” Declan’s mom asked, her tearstained cheeks still pale, her eyes and nose red.

“Immediate family can see him now, for a minute. He’s in ICU. Tomorrow, hopefully, he’ll be moved to the recovery ward, and you can all see him.”

Relief surged through Griffin.

“Oh, and the other man you came in with . . .” The surgeon lifted his chin at Griffin.

Part of him wanted the man dead for shooting Declan—the other part wanted him alive to stretch over the racks. “Yes?”

“He wasn’t so lucky,” the surgeon said. “Died an hour ago.”

Griffin nodded. “Thanks for letting us know. Can we take a look at his personal belongings?”

“You’ll have to talk to the hospital administrator. There’s a protocol to follow when we hand items over to the authorities. They’ll be given to the officer in charge of the investigation.”