Fight For Me (14 page)

“I didn't say that,” she snapped at Jason.
“But he did sign off on both death certificates, and the official
reports state they were cremated.”

“Cremated!” Davis nearly shouted.
“Shit.”

Her eyes widened at Davis's outburst. “I
have his address.”

“Let's go then,” Davis directed.

“Who?” she asked, clearly confused. It was
obvious she hadn't expected Davis to choose her to go with him, and
while he didn't mind her coming along, he wasn't about to let Tyler
PD go alone. This was a joint investigation, and it would remain
that way.

“Us and them,” Davis answered, his face
twisted in exasperation. “This guy is the one who can tell us if
we're chasing dead men or not.” He stood from the desk, crossing
the room to grab her arm. “C'mon.”

Tiffany shook free of his grasp to save her
work and close her computer. “Dead men tell no tales,” she
murmured. “I hope this old man can tell us something.”

He agreed with her on both counts. As they
filed out of the building, his brain ran through all scenarios,
none of them good. He hoped Dylan was back in fighting shape, and
prayed wherever they were would not blow up. Dylan could fight with
the best of them, shoot better than most, and was a brilliant
strategist, but even he couldn't protect himself and his lady from
a bomb.

~*~

Dylan watched Cassie pace the hallway,
wishing there was something he could do for her. She was tough, but
she worried about her neighbors, was scared for her family, and was
in a crazy man's cross-hairs, afraid someone who vowed to murder
her wasn't dead. It was too much for even the strongest of people,
and while he had held his arms open for her, she refused to come
hide in their shelter again, choosing to walk, to stand, on her
own.

“Holy shit,” she exclaimed as she came to
dead stop in the middle of the hall. “What day is today?”

He narrowed his eyes and checked his watch
out of habit. “Friday. Why?”

“Mason and Kat are flying home today.” She
crumpled into the nearest chair. “I need to stop them.”

He was already dialing before she'd finished
her sentence, but Mason didn't pick up. He left a terse message,
then sent a follow-up text to be sure. The last thing he needed
were more people for Cassie to worry about. He closed the distance
between them, crouching in front of her and taking her hands in
his. “He'll get it. They won't be in harm's way.”

She slumped forward in her seat, as if her
backbone had just given way. “What about my parents, my
brother?”

Text messages were beautiful things. He'd
called in a few favors earlier while she was dozing in his lap,
securing a couple not-so-old friends to watch over Caleb. Carolyn
and Charles were in a hotel for the night, but were headed to New
York in the morning, ostensibly to visit Camryn. He had everyone
secure, yet he couldn't shake the feeling he hadn't done enough.
“Everyone's covered.” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.
“Everyone is safe, except you. Leave town with me. Let the cops do
their job. We'll come back when it's all over.”

Her features hardened at the suggestion. “I
am not a coward.”

“I didn't say that. I just want to keep you
alive.” He softened the thought with a smile before kissing her
compressed lips. “I rather like you this way.”

“Scared out of my mind and worried about
dead men?”

“Alive,” he answered simply, ignoring her
sarcasm.

“Believe me, I'd prefer to stay alive too,
but I am not leaving.”

Stubborn woman. “Fine, but I'd wish you'd
listen.”

Her lips curved into a small smile that
didn't reach her eyes. “Have you learned nothing about me? I never
listen.”

Oh, he knew. “And yet, I love you
anyway.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth parted for a
second, almost as if she had heard him say it for the first time.
“You do, don't you?”

If he said it enough, one day she'd believe
it. “You know I do.”

~*~

Did he love her? She thought so, and that
made her life more difficult. He said he had her family secured,
that he wouldn't leave her side, and she believed him. He had
almost died saving her brother, and whomever was after her would
have no problem blowing him up to get him out of the way. She
blinked back tears. She'd said she wasn't a coward, but she was.
She wasn't about to put Dylan in the the line of fire, not when
he'd just recovered, not when she knew full well he'd step between
her and a bullet, or a flamethrower, or whatever else was thrown at
her.

She swiped the tears that leaked from her
closed eyes. Why this, why now, why her? Dylan was right, she
needed to go into hiding, but she needed to go alone. She swallowed
the sharp pang of worry that shot through her. She'd never taken
the test. What if it wasn't just herself she needed to protect? She
dropped her head into her hands. She couldn't think about that now.
She couldn't leave Dylan before, but now she had neighbors and
friends fighting for their lives because of her. If this bastard
wanted to punish her, wanted to take away the one thing that would
cripple her, would kill her from the inside out, it would be Dylan,
and she couldn't let that happen. “I need to go to the bathroom,”
she finally said, pushing away the guilt as she told the lie.

He glanced up and down the hallway before
giving her a nod. “Be aware, be careful, and be quick.”

She stood stiffly and made her way to the
bathroom, willing herself not to shake. Purse in hand, she pushed
through the door, leaning against it when it closed behind her. As
much as she wanted to protect Dylan, would leaving him do that, or
would that put him in more danger? Would it make him her Mary Jane,
used to draw Spiderman into danger? Leaving him would make him
crazy, and he'd run all over creation looking for her, wanting to
insure she was safe. She pushed off the door to stare into the
mirror. Good Lord, she looked like she'd been up since three in the
morning; her hair halfheartedly in a ponytail, her eyes accented
not with makeup but dark circles. She pinched the bridge of her
nose. Running away would put him in more danger. He'd allow himself
to be vulnerable, too worried about her to bother protecting
himself. If something happened to him because she couldn't stand
and fight, she didn't know what she would do. She stared into her
own brown eyes, willing herself to be strong. She couldn't leave
him. She wouldn't leave him. Decision made, she turned to walk back
out the door and ran into a hard body.

“Excuse me,” she immediately spat without
looking up. She needed to get back to Dylan. Even if he didn't know
she was about to run out on him, the guilt was making her
crazy.

“You're coming with me,” a rough voice
responded and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

The man in her way was taller than Dylan,
his face covered by a mask, his hands encased in gloves.
Scream,
Everett. Scream bloody murder.
She opened her
mouth only to be knocked to the ground with a solid fist. Her head
hit the counter, blurring her vision. “Help!” she yelled before a
booted foot connected with her stomach, forcing the breath from her
lungs.

“
Your boyfriend isn't
coming to your rescue this time.”

She struggled to breathe, to stay conscious.
She had to make it to the door, had to make noise, draw attention
to herself. She latched a hand around her attacker's ankle, jerking
it toward her with everything she had. He didn't budge, the other
foot landing another kick to her midsection, causing an audible
crack of ribs. The pain shot through her, nauseating her as she
scrabbled along the tile floor, willing herself to stand. She'd
made it to her knees before another blow knocked her flat, her head
bouncing against the floor. She tried to scream, but couldn't force
her mouth to open, she tried to fight, but her body wouldn't move.
Her head filled with the raspy chuckle of her attacker as she lost
the battle against unconsciousness, her last thoughts on Dylan.

Chapter
Ten

Dylan checked his watch for the third time.
Cassie had only been gone thirteen minutes, but he didn't like it.
The bathroom was around a corner, out of his line of sight, and
while he'd wanted to follow her, she'd given off “I need to be
alone” vibes and he had given her the little bit of space they
could afford. Now he was questioning that decision.

He bolted from his chair, making it to the
bathroom in seconds. “Cassie, are you okay?” he asked through the
door. When there was no answer, he pushed his way in and almost
threw up with what he found. Blood. The counter was covered in it,
the floor slick with more. He'd let her walk into a trap. He shook
off the panic that infused him, forced himself to think. If she
were dead, the bastard would have left her on the floor, but he had
taken her with him. He had to find solace in that, in the knowledge
that she was still alive. Now he just had to find her, and kill the
fucker who had spilled her blood.

He cast a look around the room. Cassie's
brown leather purse lay open under the bank of sinks, her cell
phone visible inside. His heart lurched. Tracking via cell phone
would be impossible now, and he was no closer to figuring out who
would beat her, who would take her, than he was when he ran in the
bathroom. Automatically, he dialed Chris. Before the detective
could even said hello, he gritted, “He has her.”

“
What? How?”

“
I don't know. She was
gone, in the bathroom for thirteen minutes. Thirteen fuckin'
minutes.” He clenched his fingers around his phone to the point of
pain. “I shouldn't have let her go.”

“
There's no way you could
have known,” Chris tried to reason, and he knew his friend was
right. Still, he'd failed her. He'd promised to protect her, and
instead let her unwittingly be beaten and kidnapped.

“
I love her and I didn't
protect her.” He scraped a hand down his face. Pitying himself
wouldn't track her down, wouldn't save her. “You need a team down
here, it's a crime scene.”

“
Understood. I'll send
O'Halloran and Brunswick.” He didn't care who Chris sent, just that
it was taken care of and whatever evidence could be found was
gathered.

“
Do it. I need to find
Cassie.” He had to find her. He couldn't live without her, couldn't
stand the thought of her being hurt and held captive. He swallowed
a groan. He had to stay focused.

“
Where are you gonna
start?”

“
Security cameras,” he
answered, although he didn't know what he'd see. A supposed dead
man or two? “Did you learn anything on your field trip?”

“
Rossi and Stanza are most
definitely dead. Doctor Stewart thought we were crazy for asking,
and we're on the way back.” He made a disgusted sound. “We wasted a
trip, wasted time, and we're no closer to figuring this out than we
were hours ago.”

Maybe not, but they knew it was someone who
knew exactly how to scare Cassie shitless, who knew what buttons to
push. “Give the phone to Tiffany,” he ordered. There was a rustle
of movement before she came on the line, “Dylan?”

“
Was there anyone who
worked the Stanza and Rossi cases? Who might have a grudge against
Cassidy we missed?”

“
Worked the cases? You
mean like a cop?”

“
Shit, I don't know. A
cop, a firefighter, a paralegal. Anyone.”

“
I'll check, but I didn't
look at the investigative teams.” She sighed. “I'm so sorry about
Cassidy.” Her tone was conciliatory, and his heart
dropped.

“
She's gone, but she's not
dead,” he responded vehemently. “She's not dead.”

“
I didn't say...” she
trailed off. “As soon as I have wi-fi I will check and recheck. We
don't have much time.”

She didn't need to remind him. “Hurry.”

~*~

He found the security office easily enough,
even through his haze of failure and fury. The mid-sixties,
overweight guard made him think of mall cops, and he supposed
that's essentially what he was. “Did you see anythin' strange this
mornin' outside the bathroom on the ICU floor?” He didn't bother
introducing or explaining himself, and thankfully the man didn't
question him.

“
No, not really.” Faded
blue eyes swept his body. “Should I have?”

“
Cassidy Everett was
attacked and taken from that bathroom not fifteen minutes
ago.”

“
Damn,” the old guard
remarked. “Let's take a look.” He keyed in a command and Dylan
waited, noting the other screens showed little. It was just Friday
morning; nurses, doctors and orderlies going about their daily
work, none of them aware his world had just fallen apart. With his
gut twisting he watched Cassie turn the corner into the bathroom,
her purse clutched tightly in her right hand.

After the door closed he held his breath,
unable to keep from imagining what had happened to her in the
following minutes. The fucker must've been waiting for her, as no
one entered the room behind her. God, if only he'd followed her. He
shook the feeling away. Drowning in his shortcomings wouldn't help
Cassie. He watched the door for what seemed like an eternity before
it finally opened to reveal someone who looked like a janitor
pushing a large garbage can. Dressed in coveralls, he was stooped
over as if trying to hide his height, a ball cap on his head, his
face turned away from the camera.

“
Who is that?” he asked,
sure the old man wouldn't know. He was looking at the man who had
beaten his Cassie, the man he would kill before the day was out.
He'd taken many lives in the last decade, but this one would be the
only one taken in anger, the only one with a personal reason behind
it. He clenched his fists. He wanted to beat him to a pulp, shed
his blood all over a floor, leave him unconscious, stuff him into a
garbage can. He willed himself to breathe. Thinking like that
wouldn't help.