Race Against Time. Sharon Sala

frown deepened.

      “Sir, if the man who shot her comes to finish the job, maybe we could link him to Baba and take him out of circulation that way.”

      “The criminal justice system has been trying to find a way to connect to that man and his crimes for years and hasn’t done it yet,” Summers said.

      “There’s always a first time,” Nick said.

      When his boss didn’t answer, he feared the PD was going to leave Quinn hanging, too, and then Summers spoke.

      “I’ll get the guards set up. But once she leaves the hospital, she’s on her own. We do not have the budget to put someone in a safe house who has no real bearing on a homicide case that we’re not even working.”

      “Thanks,” Nick said. “If it’s okay, I’ll stay here for the rest of the night. She went through a lot to get that little kid safe. I think we owe her, sir.”

      “Agreed. And there will be an officer there to replace you by eight tomorrow morning.”

      “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Nick said and disconnected.

      His stride was long and hurried as he moved through the hospital lobby. By the time he got to the surgery wing, more than an hour had passed since he’d last seen the injured woman. He notified the nurses at the surgery desk that he was there on behalf of Quinn O’Meara and headed for the waiting room.

      There was only one other person there when he walked in, a thirtysomething guy with curly black hair hanging well below his shoulders. He obviously spent more time in the gym than in the barbershop. The man looked up at Nick as he walked in, nodded and then looked back down at his phone.

      Nick got a coffee from the coffee machine, a honey bun from the food dispenser, and sat back down to wait. He sent a text to his lieutenant to let him know he was on site and then opened the honey bun and took a bite.

      The sugar was a much-needed jolt, as was the caffeine in the coffee. A quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall was a reminder that he’d been up for eighteen hours. It was a good thing tomorrow was his day off. He finished off the food, drained his coffee and went to the bathroom. When he came out, the dark-haired man was still there, still texting.

      Nick sat, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, thinking again of the redhead. There was something about her that niggled at his memory. He couldn’t imagine forgetting someone who looked like that. Bloody as hell, her beauty had still been obvious—and all that red hair. Maybe she just reminded him of someone else.

      * * *

      Dev Bosky knew the other man in the waiting room was a cop. His gut knotted when he saw him walk in, and the urge to leave was huge. But sitting in a room with a cop was still safer than going back to Anton Baba without his son. He’d already learned the kid was no longer in the hospital but didn’t know where he’d been taken. He had contacts who could track the location of the kid later. First thing he had to do was get rid of his witness.

      He’d been texting Ian for over an hour and still hadn’t heard back. That alone was worrisome. It occurred to him that Ian’s decision to go back without the kid might have been a deadly one. That fear alone was enough to keep him on task.

       Three

      Nick glanced at his watch. The woman had been in surgery a little over three hours, and he was beginning to worry when a doctor in green scrubs entered the waiting room.

      “Who’s here for Quinn O’Meara?”

      Nick stood and flashed his badge.

      “I am. Detective Nick Saldano, Las Vegas Homicide.”

      The doctor acknowledged Nick and then gave him the update he’d been waiting for.

      “I’m Dr. Munoz. Miss O’Meara’s surgery was successful. Barring complications, she should be fine.”

      “Where will you be taking her next?” Nick asked.

      “She’ll be in Recovery for a while and then up to her room. Fourth floor. You can check at the nurses’ station for her room number.”

      “There will be a police guard on her room until she’s released,” Nick said.

      “As you see fit,” the doctor said. “But I don’t want our other patients bothered or frightened. If need be, I can have her moved to a smaller facility that might be easier to secure.”

      “Understood, sir,” Nick said.

      They walked out together and parted company at the door with Nick heading to the elevator.

      Back in the waiting room, Dev was too keyed up to sit still. The woman was so close, but there was no way he could get to her from here without getting caught. So, they were going to put a guard on her room. That meant his only chance to get to her would be when they were moving her to the fourth floor.

      He wanted to go up now and get the lay of the area, but he didn’t want it to appear as if he was following the cop, so he waited another ten minutes while he thought things out. He had a silencer. He could pop her and whoever was wheeling her to the room just as they exited the elevator, then make a run for it before anyone even noticed he was there.

      After giving the cop enough of a lead, he made his way up to the fourth floor using the stairs. He noted which elevator they used to bring up surgery patients, but when he saw how close it was to the waiting room, and then realized the cop was already sitting within sight of the elevator, he knew he had to rethink his plan. He was going to have to go through the cop to get to her. Baba would be pissed if he killed a cop, but he also wanted the woman dead, so the way Dev looked at it, his job was to do what Baba sent him to do, regardless.

      With a half-assed plan in place, he entered the waiting room and saw the cop on the phone. He headed for the coffee machine.

      * * *

      Dr. Fuentes wasted no time getting to the Baba estate, but had no idea it was Baba’s woman he would be seeing. He’d been there enough over the past few years to realize she was something of a fixture and was horrified when he saw the shape she was in.

      She was lying on her bed with her back to the door and made no attempt to communicate when he came into the room. Upon closer examination, he was shocked by the condition of her bloody back and the unkempt state of her hair and clothing. He’d need to be cautious of how he worded his questions. To his relief, Anton initiated the conversation.

      “Star was in a car wreck. There are other factors concerning her condition that do not affect how you need to treat her, and we will not speak of these, do you understand?”

      “Yes, of course,” Fuentes said. “Where are her injuries? If she needs X-rays I will have to have her transported to an ER, and she might require hospitalization based on the results.”

      Anton frowned. It wasn’t something he’d considered, but if she had broken bones, he couldn’t ignore them. Regardless of what happened between them, having her healthy would either facilitate a cease-fire between them, or render her a whole and healthy product ready to move.

      “She hasn’t spoken of any specifics except that her back hurts, which is obvious.”

      Fuentes nodded, took off his jacket, gloved up and began his examination by cutting away what was left of her blouse. He hid his horror at the gouges dug into her slender back, tried to ignore the quiet sound of her weeping and kept going, checking for broken bones and anything that might indicate internal bleeding.

      Anton knew the doctor was paying close attention to the change in Star’s breathing, as well as the flicker of her eyelids when he touched on something painful, but when they began to turn her over and she screamed, Anton’s heart sank. She was worse than he’d thought.

      Dr. Fuentes shook his head.

      “She