Manny hadnt lost a beat. Whats her ETA.
There isnt one.
At that, Manny had said nothing. Hed just ripped the mask off his face, wadded it up, and thrown it into the nearest bin.
As hed passed by, Goldberg had opened his mouth again. Not one word, Manny had barked. Not. One. Word.
The rest of the staff had stumbled over themselves to get out of the way, parting as sure and clean as fabric torn in half.
Coming back to the present, he couldnt remember where hed gone or what hed done after thatno matter how many times he played that night back, that part was a black hole. At some point, however, hed made it to his condo, because two days later hed woken up there, still in the bloody scrubs hed operated in.
Among the galling shockers of the whole thing was the fact that Jane had saved so many people whod been in car wrecks. The idea that shed been taken in that very way had seemed like Grim Reaper payback for all the souls shed snatched out of the bony-handed reach of death.
The sound of another train whistle made him want to scream.
That and his cocksucking pager going off.
Hannah Whit. Again?
Who the hell
Manny frowned and glanced at the headstone. Janes younger sister had been Hannah, if he recalled correctly. Whit. Whitcomb?
Except she had died young.
Hadnt she?
Mad. Pacing.
God, she should have brought her track shoes for this, Jane thought as she marched around Mannys place. Again.
She would have left his condo if shed had a better idea of where to go, but even her brain, as sharp as it was, couldnt seem to throw out another option
Her phone ringing was not exactly good news. She didnt want to tell Vishous that forty-five minutes later she still had nothing to report.
She took out her cell. Oh . . . God.
That number. Those ten digits that shed had on speed dial on every phone shed owned before this one. Manny.
As she hit send, her mind was blank and her eyes filled with tears. Her dear old friend and colleague . . .
Hello? he said. Ms. Whit?
In the background, she heard a dim whistle.
Hello? Hannah? That tone . . . it was just the same as it had been a year ago: low, commanding. Anyone there?
That quiet whistle sounded again.
Jesus Christ . . . , she thought. She knew where he was.
Jane hung up and flashed herself out of his condo, out of downtown, out past the suburbs. Traveling in a blur at the speed of light, her molecules went through the night in a twirling, swirling rush that covered miles as if they were but inches.
Pine Grove Cemetery was the kind of place you needed a map of, but when you were ether in the air, you could case a hundred acres in a heartbeat and a half.
As she came out of the darkness by her grave, she took a halting breath and nearly sobbed. There he was in the flesh. Her boss. Her colleague. The one shed left behind. And he was standing over a black headstone that had her name carved in its face.
Okay, now she knew shed made the right decision not to go to her funeral. The closest she had come was reading about it in the Caldwell Courier Journaland the picture of all those surgeons and hospital staff and patients had all but snapped her in half.
This was so much worse.
And Manny looked exactly how she felt: ruined on the inside.
Jesus, that aftershave of his still smelled good . . . and in spite of having lost some weight, he was still handsome as sin, with that dark hair and that hard face. His suit was perfectly tailored and pin-stripedbut it had dirt around the cuffs of the precisely pressed slacks. And his loafers were likewise soiled, making her wonder where the hell hed been. He certainly hadnt picked it up from the grave site. After a year, the soil was packed down and covered with grass
Oh, wait. Her plot had probably looked like this from day one. She hadnt left behind anything to bury.
As his fingers rested on the stone, she knew he had to have been the one to pick the thing out. Nobody else would have had the sense to get her exactly what she would have wanted. Nothing froufrou or wordy. Short, sweet, to the point.
Jane cleared her throat. Manny.
His head shot up, but he didnt look over at heras if he were convinced that hed heard her speak only in his mind.
Making herself fully corporeal, she spoke louder. Manny.
Under any other circumstances, the response would have been a laugh riot. He wheeled around, then shouted out, tripped over her headstone, and landed flat on his ass.
What the . . . hell . . . are you doing here? he gasped. The expression on his face started as horror, but shifted quickly to utter disbelief.
Im sorry.
It was entirely lame, but that was all that came out of her mouth.
And so much for thinking on her feet. Meeting those brown eyes of his, she suddenly had nothing to say.
Manny sprang to his feet, and his dark stare went up and down her body. And up and down. And up . . . to lock on her face.
That was when the anger came. And a headache, evidently, given the way he winced and rubbed his temples. Is this some kind of joke?
No. She wished it were. Im so sorry.
His vicious frown was achingly familiar, and what an irony to go nostalgic about a glower like that. Youre sorry.
Manny, I
I buried you. And youre sorry? What the fuck is this?
Manny, I dont have time to explain. I need you.
He glared at her for a long moment. You show up after a year of being dead and you need me?
The reality of how much time had passed weighed on her. On top of everything else. Manny . . . I dont know what to tell you.
Oh, really? Other than, oh, b.t.w. Im alive.
He stared at her. Just stared at her.
Then in a hoarse voice, he said, Do you have any idea what losing you has been like? He quickly brushed a hand over his eyes. Do you?
The pain in her chest made it hard to breathe. Yes. Because I lost you . . . I lost my life with you and the hospital.
Manny started to pace, going back and forth in front of her headstone. And although she wanted to, she knew not to get too close.
Manny . . . if there had been a way to come back to you, I would have.
You did. Once. I thought that was a dream, but it wasnt. Was it.
No.
Howd you get into my condo?
I just did.
He stopped and looked at her, her gravestone between them. Why did you do it, Jane? Why fake your death?
Well, she hadnt, actually. I dont have time to explain now.
Then what the fuck are you doing here. How about you explain that.
She cleared her throat. Ive got a patient whos over my head and I want you to come have a look. I cant tell you where Ive got to take you and I cant give you a lot of details and I know this is not fair . . . but I need you. She wanted to tear her hair out. Fall down weeping. Hug him. But she just kept going because she simply had to. Ive been looking for you for over an hour, so Im out of time. I know youre pissed off and confused and I dont blame you. But be mad at me laterjust come with me now. Please.
All she could do was wait. Manny was not somebody you talked into things, and you couldnt persuade him. He would make the choice . . . or he wouldnt.
And if the latter was the case, unfortunately, she was going to have to call the Brothers. As much as she loved and missed her old boss, Vishous was her man, and shed be goddamned if she was letting anything happen to his sister.
One way or the other, Manny was going to be operating tonight.
FIVE
Butch ONeal was not the kind of guy to leave a lady in distress.
It was the old-school in him . . . the cop in him . . . the devout, practicing Catholic in him. That being said, in the case of the phone call hed just had with the lovely and talented Dr. Jane Whitcomb, chivalry didnt play into his get-up-and-go. Not in the slightest.
As he beat feet out of the Pit, and all but ran through the underground tunnel to the Brotherhoods training center, his interests and hers were totally aligned even without regard to the whole be a gentleman thing: They were both terrified that V was going to spin out of control again.
The earmarks were already there: All you had to do was look at him and you could see that the lid on his Crock-Pot was bolting down hard over the heat and turmoil underneath. All that pressure? Had to get let out somehow, and in the past, it had been in the very messiest of ways.
Stepping through the hidden door and emerging into the office, Butch hung a right and barreled down the long corridor that led to the medical facilities. The subtle waft of Turkish tobacco in the air told him exactly where to find his target, but it wasnt as if there had been any doubt.
At the examination rooms closed door, he snapped the cuffs of his Gucci shirt into place and jacked up his belt.
His knock was soft. His heartbeat was hard.
Vishous didnt answer with a come in. Instead, the brother slipped out and closed the door behind himself.
Shit, he looked bad. And his hands shook ever so slightly as he rolled one of his coffin nails. While he was licking the thing closed, Butch dug into his pocket and supplied the lighter, flicking up a flame and holding it forward.
When his best friend leaned into the orange flare, he knew every tell in that cruel, impassive face.
Jane was absolutely right. The poor bastard was humming hard and holding it all in.
Vishous inhaled deep and then settled back against the cinderblock wall, eyes trained straight ahead, shitkickers planted solidly.
Eventually, the guy muttered, Youre not asking how I am.
Butch affected the same lean, right next to his boy. Dont have to.
Mind reader?
Yup. Thats me.
V leaned to the side and tapped his ashes into the bin. So tell me what Im thinking, true?
You sure you want me to cuss this close to your sister? When that got a short laugh, Butch stared at Vs profile. The tattoos around the guys eye were especially sinister, given the cloud of control that surrounded him like a nuclear winter.
You dont want me to guess out loud, V, he said softly.
Nah. Give it a shot.
This meant V needed to talk but, in characteristic fashion, was wrapped too tight to squeeze it out: The male had always put the shut it in relating, but at least he was better than hed been. Before? He wouldnt have even cracked this door at all.
She asked you to take care of her if this doesnt work, didnt she, Butch said, voicing what he feared most. And not in terms of palliative nursing.
Vs response was an exhale that lasted abooooooout fifteen minutes past infinity.
What are you going to do, Butch said, even though he knew the answer.
I wont hesitate. The even though it will kill me went unspoken.
Fucking life. Sometimes the situations it put people in were just too cruel.
Butch closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. Family was everything to vampires. Your mate, the brothers you fought with, your blood . . . that was your whole world.
And along that theory, as V suffered so did he. And Jane. And the rest of the Brotherhood.
Hopefully, it wont come to that. Butch glanced at the closed door. Doc Jane is going to find the guy. Shes a bulldog
You know what dawned on me about ten minutes ago?
What.
Even if it hadnt been daylight, she would have wanted to go alone to find the guy.
As the males bonding scent wafted over, Butch thought, Well, duh. Jane and the surgeon had been tight for years, so if there was persuading to do, shed have better luck on her ownassuming she could get past the whole back-from-the-dead thing. Plus V was a vampire. Hello. Like anyone needed another layer added to this mess?
And on that note, all things considered, it would be great if the surgeon were five feet tall, walleyed, and had bear hair on his back. Fugly was their only friend if Vs bonded male side was being triggered.
No offense, Butch murmured, but can you blame her?
Its my twin. The guy raked a hand through his black hair. Goddamn it, Butch . . . my sister.
Butch knew more than a little something about how losing one felt, so yeah, he could feel the male on that front. And man, he was so not leaving the brothers side: He and Jane were the only ones who had a prayer of derailing Vishous when he got like this. And Jane was going to have her hands full with that surgeon and her patient
The sound of Vs cell phone going off made them both jump, but the Brother recovered fast and there wasnt a second ring before he got it up to his ear.
Yeah? You did? Thank . . . fuck . . . yeah. Yeah. Ill meet you in the parking garage here. Okay. There was a slight pause and V glanced over like he wished he were alone.
Desperate to make like thin air, Butch looked down at his Dior Homme loafers. The brother was never really into the PDA or talking personal stuff to Jane if there was an audience. But given that Butch was a half-breed, he couldnt dematerialize and where the hell could he run to?
After V muttered a quick bye, he inhaled deep on his cig and muttered on the exhale, You can stop pretending not to be next to me.
What a relief. I suck at it.
Not your fault you take up space.
So she got him? As Vishous nodded, Butch got dead serious. Promise me something.
What.
You wont kill that surgeon. Butch knew exactly what it was like to trip on the outside world and fall into this vampire rabbit hole. In his case, it had worked out, but when it came to Manello? This is not the guys fault and not his problem.
V flicked his butt into the bin and glanced over, his diamond eyes cold as an arctic night. Well see how it goes, cop.
With that, he pivoted and punched through into where his sister was.
Well, at least the SOB was honest, Butch thought with a curse.
Manny really didnt like other people driving his Porsche 911 Turbo. In fact, short of his mechanic, no one else ever did.
Tonight, however, hed allowed Jane to get behind the wheel because, one, she was competent and could shift without grinding his transmission into a stump; two, shed maintained that the only way she could take him where they were going was if she were doing the ten-and-two routine; and three, he was still reeling from seeing someone hed buried pop out of the bushes to hi-howre-ya him.
So maybe operating heavy machinery going seventy miles an hour was not a good idea.
He could not believe he was sitting next to her, heading north, in his car.
But of course hed said yes to her request. He was a sap for women in distress . . . and he was also a surgeon who was an OR junkie.
Duh.
There were a lot of questions, though. And a lot of pissed off. Yeah, sure, he was hoping to get to a place of peace and light and sunshine and all that namby-pamby bullshit, but he wasnt holding his breath for the kumbaya-all-cools. Which was ironic. How many times had he stared up at his ceiling at night, all nestled in his beddy-bye with his new Lagavulin habit, praying that by some miracle his former chief of trauma would come back to him?
Manny glanced over at her profile. Illuminated in the glow of the dash, she was still smart. Still strong.
Still his kind of woman.
But that was never happening now. Aside from the whole liar-liar-pants-on-fire about her death, there was a gunmetal gray ring on her left hand.
You got married, he said.
She didnt look at him, just kept driving. Yes. I did.
That headache that had sprouted the instant shed made her appearance instantly went from grouchy to gruesome. And meanwhile, shadowy memories Loch Nessed below the surface of his conscious mind, tantalizing him, and making him want to work for the full reveal.
He had to cut that cognitive search-and-rescue off, though, before he popped an aneurysm from the strain. Besides, he wasnt getting anywhere with itno matter how hard he tried, he couldnt reach what he sensed was there, and he had a feeling he could do permanent damage if he kept struggling.
As he looked out the car window, fluffy pine trees and budding oaks stood tall in the moonlight, the forest that ran around Caldwells edges growing thicker as they traveled away from the city proper and its choking knot of population and buildings.
You died out here, he said grimly. Or at least pretended you did.
A biker had found her Audi in and among the trees on a stretch of road not far from here, the car having careened off the shoulder. No body, thoughand not because of the fire, as it had turned out.
Jane cleared her throat. I feel like all Ive got is Im sorry. And that just sucks.
Not a party on my end, either.
Silence. Lots of silence. But he wasnt one to keep asking when all he got in return was Im sorry.
I wish I could have told you, she said abruptly. You were the hardest to leave.
You didnt dump your job, though, did you. Because youre still working as a surgeon.
Yes, I am.
Whats your husband like?
Now she winced. Youre going to meet him.
Great. Joy.
Slowing down, she took a right-hand turn off onto . . . a dirt road? What the hell?
FYI, he muttered, this car was built for racetracks, not roughing it.
This is the only way in.
To where? he wondered. Youre so going to owe me for this.
I know. And youre the only one who can save her.
Manny flashed his eyes over. You didnt say it was a her.
Should it matter?
Given how much I dont get about all of this, everything matters.
A mere ten yards in and they went through the first of countless puddles that were as deep as frickin lakes. As the Porsche splashed through, he felt the scrape on its tender belly, and gritted out, Screw this patient. I want payback for what youre doing to my undercarriage.
Jane let out a little laugh, and that made the center of his chest achebut get real. It wasnt like the pair of them had ever been together. Sure, there had been attraction on his part. Big attraction. And, like, one kiss. That was it, however.
And now she was Mrs. Someone Else.
As well as back from the goddamn dead.
Christ, what kind of life was he in? Then again, maybe this was a dream . . . which kind of cheered him up, because maybe Glory hadnt gone down, either.
You havent told me what kind of injury, he said.
Spinal break. Between T6 and T7. No sensation below the waist.
Shit, Janethats a tall order.
Now you know why I need you so badly.
About five minutes later, they came up to a gate that looked like it had been erected during the Punic Warsthe thing was hanging at Alice in Wonderland angles, the chain link rusted to shit and broken in places. And the fence it bisected? That POS was hardly worth the effort, nothing more than six feet of barbed cattle wire that had seen better days.
The damn thing opened smoothly, however. And as they went past it, he saw the first of the video cameras.
While they progressed at a snails pace, a strange fog rolled in from nowhere in particular, the landscape blurring until he couldnt see more than twelve inches ahead of the cars grille. For chrissakes, it was like they were in a Scooby-Doo episode out here.
And then there was a curious progression: The next gate was in slightly better condition, and the one after that was even newer, and number four looked only a year old, tops.
The last gate they came to was spit-and-shine sparkling, and all about the Alcatraz: Fucker reached twenty-five feet off the ground and had high-voltage warnings all over it. And that wall it cut into? It was nothing for cattle, more like velociraptors; and what do you want to bet that its concrete face fronted a solid twelve or even twenty-four inches of horizontal stone.
Manny swiveled his head around to Jane as they passed through and began a descent into a tunnel that could have had a Holland or Lincoln sign tacked on it for its fortification. The farther down they went, the more that big question that had been plaguing him since hed first seen her loomed: Why fake her death? Why cause the kind of chaos she had in his life and the lives of the other people shed worked with at St. Francis? Shed never been cruel, never been a liar, and had no financial problems and nothing to run from.
Now he knew without her saying a word:
U.S. government.
This kind of setup, with this sort of security . . . hidden on the outskirts of what was a big enough city, but nothing so huge as New York, LA, or Chicago? Had to be the government. Who else could afford this shit?
And who the hell was this woman he was treating?
The tunnel terminated in an underground parking garage that was standard-issue, with its pylons and little yellow-painted squaresand yet as large as it appeared to be, the place was empty except for a couple of nondescript vans with darkened windows and a small bus that also had blackouts for glass.
Before she even had his Porsche in park, a steel door was thrown open and
One look at the huge guy who stepped out and Mannys head exploded, the pain behind his eyes getting so intense he went limp in the bucket seat, his arms falling to the sides, his face twitching from the agony.
Jane said something to him. A car door was opened. Then his own was cracked.
The air that hit him smelled dry and vaguely like earth . . . but there was something else. Cologne. A very woody spice that was at once expensive and pleasing, but also something he had a curious urge to get the fuck away from.
Manny forced his lids to open. His vision was wonky as hell, but it was amazing what you could pull out of your ass if you had toand as the man in front of him came into focus, he found himself staring up at the goateed motherfucker who had . . .
On a fresh wave of fucking-OW, his eyes rolled back and he nearly threw up.
Youve got to release the memories, he heard Jane say.
There was some conversating at that point, his former colleagues voice mixing with the deep tones of that man with the tattoos at his temple.
Its killing him
Theres too much risk
How the hell is he going to operate like this?
There was a long silence. And then all of a sudden, the pain lifted as if it were a veil drawn back, all that pressure gone within the blink of an eye. In its place, memories flooded his mind.
Janes patient. From back at St. Francis. The man with the goatee and . . . the six-chambered heart. Who had shown up in Mannys office and taken the files on that cardiac anomaly of his.
Manny popped open his lids and lasered in on that nasty-looking face. I know you.
You get him out of the car, was the only response from Goatee. I dont trust myself to touch him.
Hell of a welcome wagon.
And there was someone else behind the big bastard. A man Manny was one hundred percent sure hed seen before . . . Must have been only in passing, though, because he couldnt call up a name or remember where theyd met.
Lets go, Jane said.
Yeah. Great idea. At this point, he needed something to focus on other than all this say-what?.
As Mannys brain struggled to process what was happening, at least his feet and legs got with the program. After Jane helped him out of the car and onto the vertical, he followed her and the Goateed Hater into a facility that was as nondescript and clean as any hospital: Corridors were uncluttered, fluorescent lights were in panels on the ceiling, everything smelled like Lysol.
And there were also the bubbled fixtures of security cameras at regular intervals, like the building was a monster with many eyes.
While they walked along, he knew better than to ask any questions. Well, that and his head was so scrambled, he was pretty fucking sure ambulation was the extent of his capabilities at this point. And then there was Goatee and his death starenot exactly an opening for chitchat.
Doors. They passed many doors. All of which were closed and no doubt locked.
Happy little words like undisclosed location and national security hopscotched through his cranial park, and that helped a lot, making him think maybe he could forgive Jane for ghosting out on himeventually.
When she stopped outside a pair of double flappers, her hands fidgeted with the lapels of her white coat and then the stethoscope in her pocket. And didnt that make him feel like he had a gun to his head: In the OR, in countless trauma messes, shed always kept her cool. It was her trademark.
This was personal, though, he thought. Somehow, whatever was on the other side of these doors hit close to home for her.
Ive got good equipment here, she said, but not everything. No MRI. Just CAT scans and X-rays. The OR should be adequate, however, and not only can I assist, but Ive got an excellent nurse.
Manny took a breath and reached down deep, pulling himself together. By force of will, he shut off all the questions and the lingering ow-ow-ow in his head and the strangeness of this descent into 007-land.
First thing on his to-do list? Ditch the pissed-off peanut gallery.
He glanced over his shoulder at Goatee. You need to back off, my man. I want you out in the hall.
The response he got in return was . . . just fang-tastic: The bastard bared a pair of canines as long as his arm and growled, natch, like a dog.
Fine, Jane said, getting in between them. Thats fine. Vishous will wait out here.
Vishous? Had he heard that right?
Then again, this boys baby mama sure hit the nail on the head, considering that little dental show. But whatever. Manny had a job to do, and maybe the bastard could go chew on a rawhide or something.
Pushing into the examination room, he
Oh . . . dear God.
Oh . . . Lord above.
The patient on the table was lying still as water and . . . she was probably the most beautiful anything hed ever seen: Hair was jet-black and braided into a thick rope that hung free next to her head. Skin was a golden brown, as if she were of Italian descent and had recently been in the sun. Eyes . . . her eyes were like diamonds, both colorless and brilliant, with nothing but a dark rim around the iris.
Manny?
Janes voice was right behind him, but he felt as if she were miles away. In fact, the whole world was somewhere else, nothing existing except for the stare of his patient as she looked up at him from out of her immobilized head.
It finally happened, he thought as he burrowed under his shirt and took hold of his heavy cross. All his life hed wondered why hed never fallen in love, and now he knew: Hed been waiting for this moment, this woman, this time.
The female is mine, he thought.
And even though that made no sense at all, the conviction was so strong, he couldnt question it.
Are you the healer? she said in a low voice that stopped his heart. Are you . . . here for me?
Her words were heavily accented, gorgeously so, and also a little surprised.
Yeah. I am. He wrenched off his suits coat and threw it into a corner, not giving a shit where the thing landed. Im here for you.
As he approached, her stunning icy eyes slicked with tears. My legs . . . they feel as though they are moving, but I suspect they do not.
Do they hurt?
Yes.
Phantom pain. Not a surprise.
Manny stopped by her side and glanced at her body, which was covered with a sheet. She was tall. Had to be at least six feet. And she was built with sleek power.
This was a soldier, he thought, measuring the strength in her bare upper arms. This was a fighter.
And, God, the loss of mobility in someone like her took his breath away. Even if you were a couch potato, life in a wheelchair was a bitch and a half, but to somebody like this, it would be a death sentence.
Manny reached out and gathered her hand into his ownand the instant he made contact, his whole body went wakey-wakey on him, as if she were the socket to his inner plug.
Im going to take care of you, he said as he looked her right in the eye. I want you to trust me.
She swallowed hard as one crystal tear slipped out to trail down her temple. On instinct, he reached forward and caught it on his fingertip