Silent Weapon Read online

  Chapter 16

  I sat in the special waiting room assigned to the family and friends of patients undergoing emergency surgery. But Mason Conrad had no family or friends—well, at least no friends who had survived the shoot-out at the Warehouse.

  Luther Hammond was dead. So was Vargas and all but one or two of Hammond’s personal army. Mason Conrad was in surgery, his exact condition unknown at this point.

  Barlow and I had been debriefed and now waited, alone, to learn the fate of Luther Hammond’s closest remaining ally.

  I couldn’t meet Barlow’s gaze. Partly because I was sick to death with worry that Mason wouldn’t live, but mainly because I knew he’d figured out that the man, a criminal, who’d put his own life on the line to save mine, had strong feelings for me. Feelings I’d helped to cultivate by succumbing to his kiss…to the feel of his hands on my body. Feelings I couldn’t deny on my end.

  I closed my eyes and forced the images away. I’d told myself that I was only doing what I had to in order to win his trust…to get more deeply into Luther Hammond’s world. But that wasn’t entirely true. I’d wanted Mason to touch me that way…had wanted him, but fear had kept me from rushing heart first into that forbidden territory. I’d skated the very fringes. Maybe it was that intense moment with Barlow, those chaste kisses, that had made me pull it back together in the nick of time. I opened my eyes and stared at my clasped hands. Speaking of the man waiting in this room with me, I felt something for him as well.

  How was that possible? For two years I hadn’t felt even the vaguest desire for anyone, and suddenly I’m hard-pressed to keep my needs under control. Admittedly, my feelings for each man had been unique. Like the men themselves. What I’d felt for Mason Conrad had been more about the excitement, the danger of getting close to him—the extreme heat. The idea that he’d wanted me had held its own kind of allure. No man had wanted me, or so it seemed, for two long years.

  I stole a glance at Barlow. He stood by the single window in the room now, staring out at the starlit sky, his back turned to me. He did a lot of that when we were together. We hadn’t talked about any of this, but the tension in the room was as thick as chilled Jell-O and every bit as cold.

  I inhaled sharply, hating the too-familiar medicinal smell. I’d been in the hospital more times than I cared to remember. Had walked out of this very one without the ability to hear after days spent with a raging infection and accompanying fever that had almost gotten the better of me. My life had been pretty much upside down ever since. I’d been searching all this time for some way to fit in again. To play a significant role.

  Oddly, that memory surfaced without its usual companion, bitterness. Strange that I should finally, after coming so close to death, after putting others in that same predicament, realize that I still counted in this life.

  My entire family had shown up in the lobby. I’d gone down to see them about an hour ago. My parents had been so relieved they’d cried. It wasn’t until that precise moment that I realized fully what I’d put them through.

  Chief Kent had called Sarah once he was certain I was okay. Minutes later the whole clan had descended upon the hospital. My brothers were furious with me but not one of the big, macho guys could stay ticked off once we’d embraced. I would eventually get around to telling them they’d been right, just not right now. Michael had actually had tears in his eyes when he’d told me that Sarah was pregnant. Imagine, my big, tough brother crying.

  After the intensely emotional reunion, I’d come back to this room to wait. Barlow hadn’t asked how my meeting with my family had gone and I hadn’t mentioned it. It was difficult to tell if he was angry at me or simply disappointed that I’d allowed myself to get involved with Conrad, with the enemy. It wasn’t like I could have hidden it. The idea that he might be disappointed bothered me more than the possibility that he was angry.

  Images and sensations from the one time that Barlow had kissed me bombarded my senses before I could batten down my defenses. We have unfinished business.

  I shivered as the words filtered through my mind, influenced the rhythm of my heart. He’d begged me not to go back to Hammond’s house. He’d wanted to protect me, just as Mason Conrad had during that final showdown.

  Sadly, I hadn’t done so well protecting Detective Barlow. He’d confirmed that the call log on my cell phone was the way Cecilia had connected me to him. I’d failed to delete his number as I should have. I remembered distinctly his showing me how to do it. Maybe I was wrong about the personal feelings, maybe he simply held against me the fact that he’d taken a beating and almost gotten killed because of my failure to do my job right.

  I puffed out a lungful of frustration. Giving myself credit, I felt reasonably certain that was my only mistake. Surely for a first operation that wasn’t so bad.

  That we’d both come so close to dying because of that mistake reminded me that one misstep was all it took.

  Cecilia and Vargas had used that discovery to shift blame for the accident from them. That was why Vargas had never caught up to me and Tiff. Cecilia had called and told him they were off the hook…she had something even better to clear themselves. So Vargas hadn’t bothered hunting us down. They’d told Hammond that I’d learned that Cecilia had figured out what I was up to and I’d kidnapped Tiffany in order to use her as a bargaining chip to save myself. Liars. Cecilia was in custody and, according to Adcock, was spilling her guts.

  My heart ached when I thought of Tiffany and how difficult getting over this would be for her. Thankfully, Hammond had a sister in Chicago who would take care of her. According to Chief Kent the sister had stopped associating with Hammond years ago because of his chosen profession and the resulting lifestyle. Her home sounded like a good place for Tiff. I hoped I would get the opportunity to say goodbye to the little girl.

  The door opened, jerking me from my troubling thoughts.

  Chiefs Kent and Adcock stepped into the room. I stood in anticipation of the news.

  Conrad is still in surgery. A nurse just came out and gave me an update, guarded but hopeful. As he made the statement Chief Kent looked from Barlow to me.

  Everyone in the room wanted Conrad to live, only for vastly different reasons. The chiefs and Barlow, well, they wanted whatever information he could provide on Hammond’s organization. They wanted him to help pinpoint all the surviving connections.

  I just wanted him to survive. Couldn’t bear the thought of him dying. I blinked back the onslaught of tears.

  Chief Kent touched my arm. Adcock and I are going down for coffee, would you like something?

  I shook my head. Knew with complete certainty that my stomach could not tolerate water much less anything else.

  Barlow declined anything as well. His brief glance at me spoke volumes about just how much he was holding back. It was eating at him, but he wouldn’t give in.

  When the chiefs had gone, leaving Barlow and me alone once more, I decided it was time to get this over with. I walked straight up to him and demanded, “Say what’s on your mind, Barlow. No use beating around the bush.” I was suddenly angry. Angry at myself…at him…at everything. Mainly I was hurting so fiercely I just wanted to cry but, like Barlow, I refused to surrender.

  You’re upset right now. This isn’t a good time to talk.

  I saw the concern in his battered face, but it was the other thing I saw in his eyes that wielded the most effect. Anger, bitterness, all restrained out of politeness. Now I was plain old pissed off.

  “You want to know the truth?” I roared. I could tell it was a roar by the way my throat burned when I yelled it out. “Yes, he got to me. We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you’re wondering, but he made me feel things.” I moved in even closer to Barlow. “Made me feel like a woman again. And he saved my life.”

  There, I’d said it.

  Barlow’s hands dove into my hair, pulled my face to his until our lips almost touched. I felt his breath on my skin…wanted desperately for him to do t
his. Make me feel anything but this agony.

  He drew back just far enough for me to see his lips, but he didn’t release me. Like I said before, we have unfinished business. But now isn’t the time.

  I tried to pull away, but his fingers cradled my skull more tightly. What you’re feeling right now is about him. Barlow stared at my lips a moment as if he wanted to kiss me. I wanted him to. I so wanted that escape. But he refused to give it to me. I need it to be about us.

  I curled my fingers around his wrists and pulled his hands from my hair, held them in my own. He was right. Jesus, he was always right. A calmness fell over me and I knew he was the only one of us being objective here.

  Barlow looked up and I understood that someone had walked into the room. I wheeled around and felt my heart still in my chest as I recognized one of the surgeons from the team attempting to save Conrad’s life.

  Fear slid through my veins.

  Mr. Conrad is in Recovery now. It’s a miracle he survived, he allowed, looking exhausted. If that second bullet had been a hair’s width farther right it would have nipped his heart and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.

  Second bullet?

  I missed part of what he said after that. What second bullet? Conrad had been hit low on the abdomen, but…images abruptly filled my head. I remembered dropping down beside him as the paramedic had ripped off his shirt. There had been two bullet holes.

  But that wasn’t right.

  He took the shot intended for me. He flung his body over mine to protect me. Had he gotten shot again? I didn’t remember seeing blood higher on his shirt when Adcock had first pulled Conrad off me.

  The surgeon left the waiting room and I turned to Barlow to get what I’d missed. “Is he going to live?”

  He averted his eyes as he spoke, and I knew he didn’t want to see the worry in mine. He survived surgery. If there are no complications, he should recover.

  I couldn’t shake the idea that something didn’t fit.

  “I think I’ll go for that coffee now.” I looked up at Barlow. “You coming?”

  He shook his head. Someone needs to stay close by.

  I hesitated at the door. “I didn’t realize he’d gotten shot twice until…” Seeing those two leaking wounds when the paramedic ripped off Conrad’s shirt flashed in my mind. I shook my head. “Never mind.”

  I wandered to the bank of elevators and depressed the down button. Those final minutes at the Warehouse kept playing over and over in my mind. SWAT guys had been everywhere. Then the paramedics had arrived. It was all so confusing. I wondered then if I would ever be able to sleep again at night. Probably not.

  In the cafeteria, I found Chiefs Kent and Adcock.

  Take my chair, Merri, Kent offered. I’ll go up and keep Barlow company.

  I nodded and settled into the chair he’d vacated. I stared at the cup of coffee Adcock sipped, but I couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to go for any.

  Finally, when I could bear it no longer, I leaned forward, propped my arms on the table and looked directly at him. “I’m confused about something,” I said bluntly. “I thought Conrad was hit only once, in the lower abdomen. Did I miss the other wound?”

  The startled look in the chief’s eyes took me by surprise. The question wasn’t that complicated.

  “I mean,” I offered, “I didn’t see it immediately after the ruckus had settled down.” I shrugged. “Maybe I missed it. But it doesn’t feel right.”

  Shots were flying, he reminded me. It’s a miracle you and Barlow weren’t hit.

  Wasn’t it, though?

  Still, something wasn’t right. I could feel it deep inside.

  “Will they run ballistics on the bullets?”

  Adcock pushed up from his chair. Really, Miss Walters, don’t you think your energy would be better spent on something less trivial? He survived.

  Now I’d made him angry. Did he think I was somehow trying to blame this on him? He was the one Helen had been able to reach. I was grateful he’d gotten backup over there. He had saved Barlow and me from certain death.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

  His expression mellowed a little. Look, it’s been a long day for all of us. Why don’t I get you a cup of coffee and we’ll go back up and wait for news on Conrad’s condition?

  Maybe I was being paranoid. I had been pretty damned hysterical. Shoot-outs had that affect on me.

  Adcock bought my coffee and led the way back to the elevator. He jabbed the call button.

  The panic that had begun to rise started to claw at me. I needed to work off some of this tension. Couldn’t just sit in some waiting room any longer without dealing with this building anxiety. “I think I’ll take the stairs.”

  Adcock shrugged. I’ll join you.

  As I trudged up the stairs, I played those final moments over and over in my mind. I had to be missing something.

  Adcock suddenly stopped, grabbed me by the arms and pinned me to the railing. Several seconds ticked by before my brain assimilated what was happening.

  He deserved to die, he growled, his face so near to mine I could barely read his lips.

  “Oh, my God,” I murmured, denial burgeoning in my chest.

  Adcock hadn’t tried to help Conrad. He’d tried to finish him off…that’s where the second bullet to his chest had come from.

  “It was you.”

  But why?

  If Barlow had just let it go, but he wouldn’t. He left me with no choice. I’d already made a new deal with Mathers. You were all supposed to die in there.

  That was the other thing that hadn’t felt right. Live hostages had been inside that antiques warehouse and still someone, Adcock I now knew, had sent in SWAT with no care as to our survival.

  Whatever else Adcock said was lost on me since I hadn’t taken my eyes off his. The bastard.

  Fury whipped through me.

  Well, that’s all right. I’m sure Detective Barlow will understand that in your distraught state you merely stumbled down the stairs.

  I ripped the top off my cup and dashed the hot coffee in his face.

  He released me…scrubbed at his scalded eyes.

  I bolted toward the next level. Only two more—

  Adcock snagged the back of my shirt.

  I grabbed the railing for balance, kicked backward, elbowed him, tried to knock him off balance.

  One hand twisted in my hair, yanked me backward.

  My fingers slid down the cold metal railing, couldn’t grab on again.

  I twisted…clawed…kicked.

  Then I remembered what Barlow had taught me.

  Surrender.

  I stopped fighting so hard, let him get a firm hold on me.

  He grinned hatefully at me. This shouldn’t hurt for long.

  When he would have shoved me over the rail, I grabbed onto it with one hand and slammed my full body weight into his unsuspecting frame.

  For one fraction of a second he teetered, reached frantically for me, then gravity took over and he tumbled down the stairs, landing in an awkward sprawl.

  Barlow was suddenly at my side, checking me for injury, then moving down to take a look at Adcock. He jerked the bastard’s hands together and cuffed him, then moved back up to where I stood, paralyzed.

  Can’t a guy even go for coffee without running into trouble?

  “Sorry you missed all the excitement,” I said, my voice still wobbling.

  I tried to catch up with you in the cafeteria, saw you head for the stairs when I got back to the elevator. He glanced down at Adcock. I knew he was hiding something, Barlow said. I just hadn’t figured out what.

  He took me into his arms and I collapsed there…didn’t want to think anymore.

  By early that afternoon Mason Conrad had regained consciousness. Chief Kent had taken a statement from him. Barlow and I, both looking worse for the wear, still waited to hear the rest of the story.

  Adcock’s broken leg and concussion had been atten
ded to. He was under guard in another room and refusing to talk.

  At least some part of this nightmare would have a decent ending, I mused. Adcock would get his. Considering how many cops as well as civilians who had died because of Luther Hammond, Adcock wouldn’t be getting offered any plea bargains. Besides, Metro had an ace in the hole: Mason Conrad. He knew Luther Hammond’s business inside and out.

  Chief Kent entered the waiting room and both Barlow and I were on our feet. I felt reasonably certain he was as sore and achy as I was, but he didn’t let on so I didn’t, either.

  Conrad wants to talk to you, Chief Kent said to me.

  A flutter in my tummy elicited a smile on my lips. “Now?”

  The chief nodded. Just keep it brief.

  I turned back to Barlow, knowing this wouldn’t sit well with him.

  Give us a moment, he said to the chief.

  Chief Kent relented and stepped back into the corridor.

  My attention settled back on Barlow. Sometime during the course of events, he’d gotten a stitch at the corner of his lip. His jaw was still swollen and the color of recent hand-to-hand combat had set in. My heart stumbled. He’d tried so hard to protect me. Had risked his life…just like the other man down the hall. My emotions surged anew, confusing me all the more.

  You did a good job, Merri.

  Emotion threatened my flimsy hold on composure. Why now? Couldn’t he have saved this speech for later? We’d been sitting in this stupid waiting room for hours! He had to go and make me all emotional now?

  I’m very proud of you, he went on. The city of Nashville owes you a great debt. Luther Hammond was a menace and now he’s gone. Many more wrongs will be set to right with Cecilia’s and Conrad’s testimony. None of this would have happened without your help.

  Cecilia had fessed up a few hours ago as well. I couldn’t help experiencing a little extra glee over that one.

  “Thank you.”

  Barlow reached out, touched my cheek so gently. His own eyes looked suspiciously bright just then. I don’t want this to be the end. He looked away a moment before letting his gaze fix firmly on mine once more. I want to finish that business we started, but I understand you have other things to do first. I’ll be waiting.