He didn’t need Cale to tell him about priorities. His main priority was the same one that it had been since the day he buried Marguerite.
Keep my daughter alive.
Nothing else mattered.
No one else mattered.
Chapter Ten
The lights in the hospital were too bright and hard, glaring down on her as Cassidy lay on the operating table. She wasn’t shaking anymore. That was good, right? She was sure trying to take it as a good sign. The violent tremors had rocked her for so long, and she’d been terribly afraid.
I don’t want to die.
There were too many things that she wanted to do in this world. Death wasn’t an option.
Please, don’t be an option.
An IV fed into her wrist, she wasn’t sure why, and there was a circle of doctors around her.
“Cale?” She needed him to be there with her. Her head turned a little to the right.
And she saw that he was. Stepping quickly to her side. Sliding his hand over her cheek.
The heartbeat that had begun to race slowed down. The beeping machines quieted a bit.
“They’re almost finished stitching you back up,” he told her.
It seemed like every time she turned around, she was getting stitched up—or he was. Couldn’t they manage to go a few hours without injury?
But Cassidy didn’t want to think about stitches or wounds then. She could feel the slight pressure on her, but she didn’t try to look over at the doctors.
She kept her eyes on Cale.
Genevieve is dead. A hollow ache filled her chest. She’d lost someone else that she cared about. Sometimes she felt like she was cursed. Always meant to be on her own.
Genevieve had deserved better than to die because she knew Cassidy.
I should have gone to her. As soon as Genevieve had called her, Cassidy should have run to her.
But she hadn’t.
She’d been too busy keeping her secrets. How many lives would her secrets cost?
“Th-the other agent,” Cassidy whispered as worry pulsed through her. “Drew Lancaster. How is he?” Be alive, be—
“Lancaster’s fine. It takes more than a bullet to stop him.”
But one slice of a knife had almost taken her out.
“Cass.” He breathed her name like a caress. “What happened to your hands? Your knees?”
She tried to smile for him. “I jumped out of the van.”
His eyes widened.
The pressure on her wound finally stopped. Cassidy pulled in a deep breath. “Get me out of here,” she whispered to Cale. “Please, just get me away from here.” Away from the death. Away from those bright white walls. Away from the nightmares that just wouldn’t stop.
Cale stared into her eyes, then, after a brief moment, he nodded.
Thank you.
* * *
“I NEED HELP!” His voice was high and shrill. Desperate. Angry. Pain-filled.
Probably because his blood was pouring all over the back of the van.
“Take me to a hospital!”
That wasn’t going to happen—he should know better than to even ask for such a foolish thing. The EOD would already have eyes at all of the hospitals, waiting for a gunshot victim to be brought in.
Cassidy had been surprising. She’d actually used her weapon, been ready to kill in order to survive.
I didn’t think she had it in her.
But perhaps Cassidy was like her father, after all. Mercer had never hesitated on a kill.
No matter how many lives he destroyed.
“Help me!” He was clutching his stomach, moaning. He could survive the wound provided that he got help soon enough. The blood flow could be staunched. He’d get stitched up.
But he’d be weak.
There wasn’t time for weakness. Already agents were probably tracking the vehicle. Those stupid cameras were everywhere in the U.S. Big Brother—Mercer—always watching.
But the screaming man had to be dealt with. It was so hard to find good help these days. So hard...all of the best men in their team had died in Rio, courtesy of Cassidy and the EOD.
“Please!” he gasped out.
Fine. “I will help you.”
He smiled. Finally stopped that pathetic begging. Good. His calm would make things easier.
He didn’t see the gun—not until it was too late. By then, there was no time for any more pleas. No time to try to lunge away.
The bullet hit him in the heart. A direct shot. Not sloppy aim. Cassidy had been sloppy.
He fell back, his head slamming into the floor of the van.
Injured, he’d been a liability. He would have kept demanding help, and if he’d gone to the hospital, then Mercer’s men would’ve had him.
The injured man would have turned on his boss—it would only have been a matter of time. The loyal men had died in Rio. The others...they weren’t to be trusted. Used, but not trusted.
The smell of his blood deepened in the air. Cassidy had bled in that van, too. Bled, pleaded.
Escaped. Damn it.
The hunt wasn’t over.
Not yet.
An eye for an eye.
The scales were far from being balanced.
The van was left just where it sat, its doors hanging open. Mercer could find the dead man inside. A dead man would tell him nothing.
Cassidy would be in the hospital. Which one?
Doesn’t matter. I’ll keep looking until I find you.
Cassidy might have thought that she’d gotten away clean, that she could just disappear with her agent lover, but she was wrong.
An eye for an eye.
Cassidy was going to find out that there was no escaping from death.
* * *
SHE’D WANTED OUT of the hospital, but that wasn’t happening. Cale had agreed to take Cassidy away, but he had to make sure she was recovered enough first for the travel that he had in mind.
The staff gave her a private room. Mercer sent guards for her, and Cale didn’t leave her for even a moment.
She slept. He stood watch.
Against those white sheets, she looked too pale and fragile. So very breakable.
He wasn’t going to let her break.
The door squeaked open behind him. He turned instantly, moving for the weapon that was still holstered beneath his shoulder. An instinctive response.
But it was Dr. Tina Jamison who stood in the doorway. He frowned at her.
Tina didn’t usually leave the EOD headquarters for a case. He’d actually only seen her in the field twice, both times to help wounded agents. She’d been scared each time, her hands trembling, but she’d gotten the job done.
“Mercer. He wanted me to come in and make sure that Cassidy was all right.” She pushed the door closed behind her. “He also wanted me to check on you.”