Shit.
If he didn’t get some sleep, he was going to be wasted tomorrow. And since it seemed all the occupants of Crystal’s apartment had settled in, there wasn’t much benefit to sitting here any longer.
But first, he needed to write down this info so Marz would see it first thing because it hopefully freed them from having to infiltrate Church’s storage facility again. He grabbed a legal pad and pen.
Delivery, 9 p.m. Wednesday, marine terminal
Job done, Shane ghosted through the Rixeys’ apartment so as not to wake Beckett and Easy sleeping on the pullout couch and an air mattress in the living room, and made his way to the guest room he was currently calling home.
He needed a shower, but the bed had apparently developed magnetic powers because his ass was down for the count before he’d really decided to go horizontal.
THE NEXT THING Shane knew, morning had come, streaming soft golden light through the high warehouse window over the bed he could barely enjoy because of the ass-beating he’d taken the previous night. His face, ribs, and back throbbed in time with his pulse, making him suck in a harsh breath through his teeth when he forced himself into a sitting position. Damn, a year as a civilian, and he was getting soft.
Pushing into a standing position, his internal clock told him it was late. Sure enough, the LED on his cell phone showed nearly nine o’clock.
He fumbled through showering and dressing, letting himself linger a while under the stream of soothing hot water, grabbed a bagel off the kitchen counter, and beat feet toward the door to find the team.
“Hey, Shane? You got a minute?”
Becca.
He turned away from the door. “For you, always. What’s up?”
“It’s Charlie.”
Shane could’ve guessed as much from the worry furrowing her brow and filling her blue eyes. “Nick mentioned he went downhill last night. How’s he doing?”
“Well, that’s what I’d like your opinion on. Do you mind?” she asked, her gaze lingering for a quick moment on the scab on his bottom lip. A souvenir from his rounds with Nick the night before.
He gestured for her to lead the way and followed her down the hall to the room where the Rixeys’ sister apparently stayed when she came to visit. He couldn’t imagine what a female version of Nick would be like. The thought almost made him smile.
Until he saw Charlie’s face.
Fever red cheeks blazed over otherwise pale skin. His blond hair lay damp and darkened all along his hairline. Ten feet away and Shane could already tell the guy was in trouble.
“One oh two at last check,” she said softly. “And rising despite another course of IV antibiotics overnight.”
“How bad’s the amputation site?”
“See for yourself,” she said, carefully unwrapping the bandages.
Charlie’s eyelids lifted once, twice, but he couldn’t seem to keep them up no matter how many times he tried. He mumbled words too indistinct to be heard. The more Becca worked on the gauze, the more restless Charlie became.
Becca removed the last of the bandages and stepped aside.
Shane swallowed his oh, shit reaction, not wanting to escalate her already obvious concern. She knew enough to know what he was about to tell her. He leaned in to examine the wound. An angry, swollen redness that almost bordered on purple proclaimed Charlie’s condition loud and clear. “Skin infection. Possible bone infection. Definite bone infection if the rest of this bone isn’t amputated, here,” he said, pointing. “And he needs some reconstructive surgery. A skin graft to close this up maybe. Probably why the infection is progressing despite the antibiotics.”
She blew out a long breath and locked her hands on top of her head. Her position made him notice she was wearing a too-big man’s T-shirt and rolled-up boxers that had to belong to Nick. An unexpected twinge of jealousy had him examining Charlie’s wound again. He’d always loved the look and idea of a woman in his clothes, wearing his shirts to bed, the smell of his skin on hers, but he’d rarely had opportunities to make that little fantasy come true. And this situation wasn’t making the immediate future look too good, either.
“Yeah,” she finally said. A blanket lay balled up on a chair behind her, proof that she’d sat up some part of the night with Charlie.
Damn. Shane hated to have to say this . . . “He needs a hospital, Becca.”
“I know.”
He stared at her a long moment, just observing her mentally work through the problem. And he realized that more than just admiring the way Becca had handled herself these past days, he liked her. And he was glad she and Nick had found one another. “I’m sorry I was an ass toward you,” he said.
She gave a small smile. “I know.”
“What are you thinking?” he said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb Charlie. But now that they were done bothering at his hand, the guy was out cold.
“That he needs a hospital, but he can’t go to one. Any admission automatically creates a paper and computer trail that Derek says is too risky. Not to mention that this injury is suspicious. They’d want to know how the amputation happened, and doctors and nurses are pretty good BS detectors. Plus, my attempted abduction last week means someone at UMC is on the take, and if that’s true, it’s probably not the only hospital in the city that’s compromised.”
“Our team’s too small to transport him farther away,” Shane said. “If some of us went with you to provide protection, it would short-staff the operation here. Especially with this delivery tomorrow night.”
She sat heavily onto the chair next to Charlie. “Nick raised that concern, too. What a mess.”
“Doesn’t leave Charlie with many options, though.” Sure as shit, Shane would’ve been going crazy if it was his brother in this situation. If this got much worse, they were going to have to chance a hospital, risks and operation be damned. Last thing they needed was another person dying on Frank Merritt’s account.
It wasn’t lost on him that for the second time in the past twenty-four hours, he found himself wondering how best to help someone else’s sibling.
If the cosmos was trying to get his attention, it fucking had it already. For fuck’s sake.
“Well, I have a Plan B, but it’s still not a great option, and it requires bringing in someone outside our group. Nick’s not going to love that idea,” she said.
Neither did Shane. But he also knew that sometimes shit rained down so hard and so fast you couldn’t shovel it all on your own. Nick would see that, too. “Who?”
“A longtime friend my gut tells me we can trust.”
“It’s at least worth having the conversation, first with Nick, then maybe with this friend. Any meet with the friend should happen somewhere off-site, though, and only if you take a protection detail.” Because anyone associated with Becca’s hospital was suspect until proven trustworthy as far as Shane was concerned.
Nick stepped through the door, his expression dark, intense, and flirting with pissed off. “A protection detail for what?”
Chapter 8
Crystal was showered, caffeinated, and thinking about what to make for lunch by the time Jenna emerged from her bedroom. Her sister shuffled down the hallway, still in her rumpled clothes from the previous night, and leaned into the kitchen. “Hey,” she said, voice raspy and thin.
“Hey,” Crystal said, pushing the fridge door shut. “How are you feeling?”
Jenna crossed her arms and hugged herself. “Tired. A little shaky. I’m okay, though.” She attempted a smile, but the shades of gray in her normally blue eyes belied her attempt at optimism. “Thanks for being there for me last night.”