[14]

Steven blinked when Haley shot to her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Going to help Zeke. Richie’s there.” She raced out the door after yelling for Steven and Quinn to follow her and the others to stay with her grandfather and his friend.

Steven was already on the phone requesting officers be routed to Zeke’s residence. “Haley, you should stay here,” Steven shouted at her. “There are still too many questions—who is the shooter? Who was in your bedroom?”

She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. He opened the passenger side. “You should stay here,” he repeated.

“Not a chance,” she said. “And besides, Richie’s at Zeke’s house. He’s not planning his next move on how to send me on to eternity.”

“But—”

“He’s terrorizing a family with a sick kid, Steven. I hate bullying and that’s all he is—a bully.”

“I agree, but he’s a possibly deadly one.”

“That I made angry.”

She shot him a pleading glance and he knew he might as well give in. She was going. “Then get in my car,” he said. “I’ve got the lights.”

Haley jumped out of her Hummer with a gasp of pain, but didn’t let that slow her as she raced to the passenger side of his truck. Quinn was waiting on them in his own vehicle when Steven climbed in, hit the lights, and squealed away from the curb. Quinn fell in behind them. She went silent and he could almost see her brain working. He glanced back at the road. He needed to focus on his driving, not her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Second-guessing myself.”

“Why?”

“Duncan was watching me before everything went down with Richie.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve also thought about what you said. What if the attack really wasn’t related to Richie? I just can’t get the guy that broke into my house out of my head. He’s done this before. He skirted the officer on duty and he came with murder as his intent. He was prepared, efficient, and deadly. If I had been in my bed, I wouldn’t have known what hit me.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. Quinn was right on his tail. “Then someone else wants you dead.”

“But who? Why?”

“Someone from your past? Someone who knows you’re still alive and doesn’t like the fact?”

“But how would they know?”

She grabbed the door handle as he took a particularly sharp turn. “Could be Duncan was right and someone followed him right to you,” he said.

“Right.”

He flew through the streets and cut the time in half that it would normally take to reach Zeke’s house from hers. To him, it felt like it took a year. Domestic violence situations always got to him. Finally, he pulled to a stop at the edge of the drive. Other officers were there, cruiser doors open. Two officers stood talking. Steven relaxed a fraction and climbed from the vehicle, making sure his badge was visible on his belt. “What’s the situation?”

The two officers turned. One a pretty blonde, the other an older man with graying hair and hard blue eyes. “Got a domestic violence call. When we got here the guy was gone and nobody’s talking. It was all a misunderstanding.” He rolled his eyes.

Haley stepped up beside Steven. “I’m going to check on Zeke.”

She walked toward the front door and halted when it flew open. Steven turned from the officers to see Zeke’s frantic face.

“He’s not breathing!” Zeke shouted. “I think he’s dead. Someone help him.”

Haley pushed past him and raced into the house. Steven bolted after them.

Haley rounded the doorway and into Micah’s room, where she found his mother crying and attempting to do CPR at the same time. She looked up at Haley’s entrance. “Call 911! His heart’s stopped.” She continued to do compressions.

Haley pulled her phone from the clip on her belt.

“I’ve got it,” Steven said from behind her. “Do you want to wait for the ambulance or put him in the car?”

“I’ve got an AED, but I’ve never used it before. His heart’s never stopped before,” Belinda said through her tears. “Grab it, please. There. On the desk. I read the instructions, but I—”

Haley found it and rushed to the bedside. The woman already had her son’s shirt open, his chest exposed. She felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one.

“Do something!” Zeke cried. “He’s dying!”

“You know how to work it?” Belinda gasped.

“Yes. Do you know how to do mouth-to-mouth?”

Belinda nodded.

“Breathe when I tell you to breathe. Move when I tell you to move, got it?”

“Yes, yes, just help him.”

Haley grabbed the sticky pads and placed them on his chest. “Breathe.”

Belinda blew a breath into her son’s lungs.

“Now don’t touch him.” Haley then hit the analyze button. The machine ordered her to deliver a shock. “Stand clear.”

Zeke and his mother moved back and she pressed the shock button.

Micah jerked and Haley placed her fingers on his pulse—or where he should have a pulse. “Breathe again, Belinda.”

She did.

“Come on, come on,” she heard Zeke mutter. “Please, Micah.”

Haley waited. Praying to feel something. Anything. But got nothing. “Clear again.” She went through the cycle once again and was ordered to give him another shock. She did. He jerked.

“Ambulance is almost here,” Steven said.

Haley felt for his pulse while her own thundered in her ears. “Come on, kid,” she whispered. And then she felt it. A flutter under her fingertips. Then another and another. “Got it! I got a pulse.” She kept her fingers there while she checked his breathing. He wasn’t. She placed her mouth over his and blew while feeling his weak pulse beating beneath her fingers.

After several seconds Micah sucked in his own breath. She strapped the oxygen mask on him and turned up the flow.

Steven placed a hand on her shoulder. “Paramedics are here.”

She stumbled back, her heart racing, side hurting. She pressed a hand to it and took a deep breath.

“You saved him.”

She looked up to find Zeke standing in front of her, tears tracking his dark cheeks.

“You saved him, Haley. Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around her and cried into her shoulder.

Her gaze met Steven’s and she thought she might have seen a sheen of tears in his dark eyes.

“It’s okay, Zeke,” she whispered to the trembling teen. “It’s okay.”

And then the paramedics rushed Micah out the door and into the back of the ambulance. Belinda followed, her purse thrown over her shoulder, her hair wild and face tear-streaked.

Zeke pulled away from her and swiped a hand across his eyes. “I want to go too.”

“We’ll take you.” She looked at Steven. “That okay?”

“Sure.”

Steven sat across from Haley in the all-night cafeteria in the basement of the hospital. She’d eaten exactly two bites of her chicken salad and scarfed about a gallon of coffee while her eyes continued to dance from her food to the clock on the wall to him.

“Who takes care of your horses when you’re working?” he asked.

“A neighbor friend has a sixteen-year-old son who’s a horse nut. Nathan comes over just about every day to clean the stalls and fill the water trough. I pay him a little something even though he insists he would do it for free.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” She pushed a piece of chicken to the side.

“You need to eat more,” he said.

She took another bite. Then swigged the coffee. “All right. I have to admit, I might not be thinking very clearly right now. The last two days have been rather intense.”

“Intense?”

“For lack of a better word.”

“No, it’s a good word. An accurate word.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall again.

“Where were you those five years?” he asked. “The five years Duncan couldn’t find any information on?”

She paused for a split second, then grabbed her coffee and took another sip. “Why?”

“Because I’m nosy.” He leaned back and crossed his arms while he studied her. “You intrigue me. I find myself thinking about you. A lot.”

A laugh slipped from her, but her cheeks reddened. “At least you’re honest about it.”

“So? Will you tell me? Why were you so completely off the grid that even Duncan, a man with amazing resources at his fingertips, couldn’t find you?”

She stole another look at the clock.

He figured thirty seconds had passed since her last glance. “Belinda said she’d text you.”

This time her eyes went to the phone sitting face up on the table. “I was working.”

“Where?”

“Ireland.”

He groaned. “Come on, Haley.” What had made her so tight-lipped? “I saved your life.”

“You did not. Duncan did.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I took the credit.”

She huffed a short, tired laugh. “We need to check on him.”

“Fine. We can go by his room before we leave.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

They fell quiet. She finished her chicken salad and he figured it was a stalling tactic. But at least she was eating. When she swallowed the last bite, he raised a brow. “So?”

Another sigh followed by a sip of coffee. “It’s more who I worked for, than where I worked.”

He stayed silent. She’d either tell him or not.

“Quinn likes you,” she said.

“We think alike. That helps us get along.”

“Probably. Quinn also thinks he’s right about everything. And that he has to know everything.”

True. Steven had figured that out within five minutes of meeting the man.

“Another thing you two have in common.”

He laughed.

She looked him in the eye. “G2,” she finally said.

His eyes widened and his brows shot upward. “Whoa. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“So you’re familiar with it?”

“Of course. Irish Intelligence. The equivalent of our CIA.”

“Indeed.”

“How did you get involved with G2?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I grew up on the streets of Belfast mostly. But when I was ten, my mam . . . or nanny . . .” She rubbed her eyes. “I’ll just call her my mam. She managed to get a job at a grocery store as a cashier. Eventually, she saved up enough to put a down payment on a small flat and we moved in—along with four others that we considered our family. We looked after one another and were very tight.”

“What about school?”

Haley’s eyes darkened and he figured she was remembering, seeing the images of her mother in her mind. “She taught me. We spent a lot of hours in the library, not just for the books and videos, but for the bathrooms as well. I’ve washed my hair in many a library sink.” She shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure how she did it, but she kept me on grade level until she died.” Sorrow flashed in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too.”

“You were fifteen?”

She nodded. “It wasn’t long after that, that we lost the flat and had to move back to the street. I knew my only way to better myself was to finish school, so with a little help from the street people, I managed to get some identification, get enrolled, and finish high school.”

“Where did you live? Still on the street?”

“Under a bridge mostly. It was pretty close to the school, so that’s where I stayed. Sometimes I wound up sleeping in back alleys with the others, scrounging for food when I could, stealing what I needed.”

His heart hurt for her. “It was a hard life.”

“It was. But one of the friends who lived with us was from the Middle East. He spoke Arabic. For some reason he was determined that I learn his language and he tutored me every day. He made me speak it, write it, memorize it. Anyway, it was while I was living on the streets that I overheard a conversation about a terror plot—in Arabic—to blow up a cathedral. I walked into the nearest Gardaí house and reported it. They stopped the terrorists and I graduated high school. The day after I got my diploma, someone from G2 approached me and asked me if I’d consider working for them. They needed people who were fluent in Arabic. I said I would.”

“So why did you leave?”

“For a number of reasons.” She shook her head. “But mostly because my handler betrayed me.”

“And that sounds like a story in itself. Will you tell me?”

She glanced at her watch and stood. “Maybe. One day. I want to check on Duncan.”

They dumped their trash and he followed her to the elevator. His phone buzzed and he pulled it from the clip to look at it. “That’s Quinn calling.” He held the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Richie says he wasn’t anywhere near the house, didn’t lay a hand on anyone, and was on his way to the hospital to support his girlfriend while she cares for her sick son.”

“I hope you informed him of his new destination.”

“Absolutely. He’s back in custody and none too happy about it. He’s made a physical threat to Zeke. Said it wouldn’t surprise him if the kid met an accident due to his being clumsy and all.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

“Keep me updated. And we’ll keep an eye on Zeke. I’ll also let his mother know about the threat.”

Steven recounted the conversation between Quinn and Richie to Haley. Her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. He stepped off the elevator and followed Haley to Duncan O’Brien’s room. A nurse stood at the station just outside the door typing on her laptop.

“Is he awake?” Haley asked.

“He was a few minutes ago.”

“Great.” Haley tapped on the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

Steven shut it behind him.

“Duncan?” She walked over next to the bed and looked down. Steven could see the tension in her shoulders, the worry on her face. “Duncan?”

Steven moved so he could see the man. The color in his face rivaled that of the sheets he lay on. Pale, almost gray, he looked bad. But his eyes fluttered open. “Aileen?” he croaked.

She took his hand in hers. “Yes.”

“Oh, Haley, I mean. Sorry.” His voice sounded stronger this time.

“It’s all right.”

“You’re okay then? You weren’t hurt.”

Her hand went to her side. “A bit of a scratch, but I’m fine, thanks to you.”

“They know,” he whispered. “Somehow they know.”

“Who knows what?”

“They know I’m here and that I’ve found you.”

She looked up at Steven and he moved so Duncan could see them both. “We believe the shooter was a man who’s a part of a gang. He and Haley had a confrontation Sunday night and he wasn’t real happy about it. We believe he came after her and you just got caught in the middle.”

Duncan shook his head. “No. They didn’t want me in contact with you.” He raised shaky hands and pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken the chance and talked to you.”