Chance Collision (25 page)

Please be all right.

Both cops followed her.

“Dr Greene called me…”

She didn’t miss the look Joe and Shannon exchanged, but she ignored them, heading straight for the nurse.

It was the tall black girl, Rebecca. One of the nurses who’d taken care of Gram the night Maria had got shot.

“Nikki-baby,” Gram said, smiling as she set her empty water cup on Rebecca’s tray.

“Rebecca, what’s going on?” Nikki asked.

Wide dark eyes met hers. “What’d you mean?”

“Dr Greene called me.”

“I don’t like this,” Shannon muttered. He grabbed his cell and started dialling, turning his back to them as he made the call.

Joe tensed, his hand hovering over his holstered gun.

“He did?” Rebecca asked, but her eyes darted from cop to cop.

The bedding rustled as Gram sat up straighter. “Nikki, is something wrong?”

Nikki moved to the bedside, taking her grandmother’s hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ll go get Dr Greene. I’m sure he’ll straighten things out.” Rebecca spiked the paper water cup in the trashcan and tucked the tray under her arm.

Sighing, Nikki dragged a chair to Gram’s side. She slipped into it, shaking her head.

“Shit.” Shannon pocketed his phone, his eyes darting to her grandmother. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Gram flashed a grin. “Please, boy. Heard and said worse.”

“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked.

“Still can’t get Crane. But Sarge is starting over this way.”

“Good,” Joe said. He surveyed the room and Nikki’s stomach jumped.

He was young—a few years younger than her. He’d only been off training for a few months.

Nikki wanted Pete.

“Where’s your detective, Nikki-baby?” Gram asked, as if she’d read her mind.

“He had to interview someone.”

Gram nodded, but Nikki didn’t get a chance to comment before Rebecca stepped into the room with Dr Greene on her heels.

Tall and lanky, the young doctor had both hands in the wide pockets of his white coat. His fair brows were drawn tight as he came closer. “Ms Harper, I didn’t call you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Joe and Shannon said at the same time.

Nikki leant forward in the chair, dread rolling over her. “What?”

The doctor looked even more concerned. “I’ve been in my office, going over patient charts most of the evening.” He glanced at both cops. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’d all like to know,” Joe said.

“Nikki, give me your phone,” Shannon barked. The officer immediately started scrolling through her call log when she’d complied. “Damn, it’s a blocked number.”

She winced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve paid more attention to the caller ID, but when the man said he was Dr Greene, I freaked. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, just that I needed to get down here.”

Sickeningly familiar popping sounds make them all freeze. Dread turned to fear and Nikki clutched Gram’s hand. Her heart kicked into overdrive.

Rebecca whimpered.

Shannon cursed and drew his gun. Joe took one look at the more senior officer and did the same.

“Nikki, close the door. Lock it. Try to call Crane again.”

“Patient rooms don’t lock.” Rebecca’s voice shook.

Dr Greene put his arm around her.

“He’s coming for us. Rebecca and Dr Greene should leave. Now.” Nikki stood, refusing to let tears and fear take her over.

“No, you all need to stay here. Barricade the door. Nikki, get on the damn phone,” Shannon ordered. At the same time, he reached for his shoulder mic and called out, “Shots fired!”

God, Pete where are you?

“Benton, let’s go.” Shannon gestured.

The younger officer gave a curt nod and they slipped into the hallway.

Gunfire came closer.

Pop. Pop. Bang. Bang.

Where the hell were the sirens?

People were screaming. Footsteps barrelled up and down the hallway. Shots kept going off. Now it sounded like more than one gun.

God, please protect Joe and Shannon. And all the people out there.

Nikki glanced around the room. Unlike Gram’s first room, this one had a small raised window about five feet off the ground and they were on the corner of the building.

No way of escape.

“We should barricade the door like the cops said.” Dr Greene’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Rebecca screamed as the door burst open.

Nikki threw herself over Gram.

Luciano Marchetti dragged a whimpering nurse into the room, gun to her head. “Hello, ladies.” He pushed the weapon into the poor woman’s temple.

She yelped.

“Kim, oh my God,” Rebecca breathed, tears streamed down her cheeks.

Gram clutched at Nikki’s shoulders, but she didn’t move off the elderly woman.

The evil bastard laughed. Then he pulled the trigger. Kim’s body slid to the ground in a sickening thud, blood everywhere, and Luciano Marchetti stepped over her body as her blood started to pool.

Like Kim is nothing.

“You must be the good doctor. Goodbye, Dr Greene.” He shot the doctor in the head.

The poor man didn’t have time to react as he fell.

It was like watching a horror movie. Nikki’s heart galloped, threatening to exit her chest. Her stomach roiled, bile rose. She swallowed over and over to keep from throwing up. Blinking didn’t make the scene before her go away. Her nails bit into her palms as helplessness rolled over her.

We’re going to die.

Everything seemed to slip into slow motion. Gram held Nikki tight around the waist.

Rebecca kept screaming. Until Luciano Marchetti shot her, too. She collapsed to the floor like a heavy sack of sand.

Tears wet Nikki’s cheeks but she didn’t move as he turned towards the bed.

Luciano Marchetti raised the gun.

Nikki screamed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sirens greeted them when they turned onto Main Street.

“Hmmm, wonder what’s up,” Lee said.

“I dunno. I didn’t grab the portable I keep at home. It was dead, so I slapped it on the charger after work,” Pete said.

Lee didn’t answer as a cruiser flew by them, lights and sirens. Going the same direction they were. Towards the rehab centre.

Shit.

Pete shot his temporary partner a look. She said nothing, but his heart landed in his stomach.
Something’s wrong.

He didn’t bother grabbing his cell and calling Dispatch. They were right around the corner from Health Solutions.

“Son of a bitch.” Lee made a fist as they pulled into the lot.

His heart hit overdrive from its new residence in his gut. Bile rose and Pete had to swallow to keep from chucking his dinner. He knew—just knew—what was going on.

Marchetti.

“Cole’s car is here,” the FBI agent said.

Pete’s head spun.

Nikki.

He’d left her. Again.

They got out of the truck and shut the doors at the same time. Lee and Pete exchanged another look and she drew her weapon. His partner was ready. For anything.

Chloe and her whole shift—five cops—stood not far from Cole’s blue Dodge Challenger. His buddy walked up to him, racking a semi-automatic twelve-gauge, and pressed it into Pete’s hand without a word.

“What do we have?” Pete croaked.

“Active shooter. Crowley called it out. But now neither he nor Joe Benton is answering the radio.” Cole wore an over-the-shirt bulletproof vest. He popped the trunk of the Challenger and threw one at Pete, then another at the FBI agent.

Reflex made his free hand rise to catch it.

“Marchetti,” Lee said. She let out a string of curses and holstered her Glock. “Gimme something better than this.”

Cole smirked as Sergeant Stein handed Lee an AR-15 assault rifle.

“Chief and Lieutenant Wells are on the way. Lieutenant Davis will mobilise SWAT, too,” Chloe said. Her guys surrounded them all, some with shotguns or an AR-15, some with handguns. All twitchy. All ready to storm Health Solutions.

Pete’s stomach flipped.

He’d let his guard down. Again. Assumed she’d be safe. And now she could be dead inside the rehab centre. “No.” The whisper was anguished, even to his own ears.

Cole shot him a look, one dark eyebrow up, visible in the rotating red and blues of one of the cruisers. “Dude, suit up so we can go.”

Visions of Nikki and her grandmother lying in pools of blood danced into his head. He swallowed hard. Pete couldn’t shake the image. He shivered—honest to God shivered. Maybe he was going to throw up, after all. His pulse pounded in his ears.

The voices of his co-workers faded in and out as Chloe briefed everyone on the layout of the building. She barked position orders and answered questions.

“Pete.” Cole—all six feet four inches of him—got right up in Pete’s face, bumped him chest to chest.

He blinked, meeting Cole’s steel eyes. Struggled for coherent thought. Words.
Anything
.

“Dude. Get it together.
Now.
”

“I’m fine.” But his voice cracked.

“Right. Sure. Gimme the damn gun and put the vest on. Or you’re not going in.”

Anger boiled up from Pete’s gut. “The fuck I’m not going in there.”

Cole gave a curt nod, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Get it done so we can go kill this bastard.”

Lee stepped up to him as Cole backed off. Put her hand on his forearm. “You okay, partner?”

Shit.
She hadn’t missed their little exchange.

He forced a nod.

“We got this.” Lee raised her voice, so all the cops could hear. “We got this,” she repeated.

The guys nodded or grunted, their faces hard and determined.

“How we doing this?” Sergeant Stein asked.

“I’ll lead,” Cole said.

Pete nodded. He was okay with that. After all, Cole and Lee had done this more than the guys and gals of Antioch PD.

“One condition,” Pete barked.

“Yeah?” Lee asked. The smirk on her face said she knew what he was going to say.

“
I
kill the bastard.”

Cole grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, buddy.” He slapped Pete’s back.

Shots sounded as they approached the building in formation, but the frosted glass prevented them from making out anyone or anything on the other side. Light glowed through, but that was about it.

Cole led, with Lee next, in front of Pete. Chloe and her guys fanned out behind him, two of them watching their asses.

People’s screams greeted his ears with the whoosh of the automatic doors, and a few employees in scrubs fled the building. The cop whom Chloe had left outside gestured for them. Fire trucks and ambulances should be there any second. Probably SWAT, too.

Doctors, nurses, patient techs were injured, clutching shoulders, arms or limping, walking arm in arm. Bleeding, looking anguished.

Pete sucked in a breath and flexed his fingers on the shotgun.
Head. In. Game. Now.

Their unit moved forward, breaching the building.

Even before they’d reached the front desk, bodies—three, no, four—were everywhere. Pools of blood, spatter and smears on the wall. A nurse rocking and moaning, red staining the front of her scrubs, leaning against the wall of the nurses’ station.

No pausing, stopping, checking for signs of life. Not yet. They were on a search and destroy mission. Stop the threat, then assess. Prevent more loss of life.

They stepped over a body of a patient tech who looked younger than Nikki. Shot in the head, lying on her side.

Pete didn’t let it affect him. He couldn’t.

He needed to get to her.

Save her.

Please, God, don’t let us be too late.

They turned as one down the hallway leading to Mrs Jenkins’ room.

Black boots were visible first, then uniform pants. Young Officer Joe Benton was down in front of the first room on the left, partially obscured by the open door to a patient room. Pete couldn’t see where he was hit.

Officer Shannon Crowley was next, right outside of the second patient room on the right. A small pool of blood under his shoulder. His left leg was hit, too.

Neither cop moved.

Please let them be alive.

There was no one else in the corridor.

The bang of a big gun went off. Then a pause, and another shot. A male voice spoke. Pete couldn’t make out the words. A woman screamed, but it was cut off with another gunshot.

Cole gestured for them to split on either side of the doorway to Nikki’s gram’s room. The door was open.

“Police!” the shout went up collectively.

Luciano Marchetti had his gun trained on Nikki and Gram. The guy was hit, bleeding.
Good.

Nikki was lying on the bed, obscuring as much of her grandmother’s thin small form as she could.

Without missing a beat, or acknowledging the half a dozen cops that had just poured into the room, Luciano Marchetti pulled the trigger.

Nikki screamed.

Pete acted on instinct, aiming and firing the shotgun. He wasn’t the only one. Cole and Lee—hell, maybe all of them—opened fire on the bastard until he fell in a heap at the end of the hospital bed. A mess of black clothing and red blood.

As soon as he was down, Cole and Lee rushed forward. One of them kicked Luca’s gun away.

He left them to handle it as Cole knelt and announced the asshole was dead.

Chloe started barking orders for her guys to fan out, assess injured and tally dead. Radio chatter echoed from multiple portables. Sirens wailed from outside.

Pete didn’t give a shit.

He tossed the shotgun to one of the officers and rushed to her.

Nikki sobbed on the edge of the bed, her grandmother in her arms.

His gaze darted up, down, all over both their forms. No blood.
Thank God.

She took one look at him and Pete’s heart stuttered. Tears stained her beautiful face, her brown eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. It didn’t matter. She was alive. She was safe.

Nikki rushed into his arms.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” He repeated the words over and over, squeezing her against his chest but he was shaking as much as she was.

He told himself it was just the adrenaline dump. But it was more. He loved her.