Life changes in the blink of an eye. One minute you have the world resting precariously in the palm of your hand, and then the next you’re scrambling to pick up the shattered pieces of what once was. Although I had been forced to learn that lesson when I was just eight years old, nothing could have prepared me for when I had to experience it again. The wound of losing Gavin might have cut into my soul over scar tissue, but it did nothing to dull the excruciating pain. It was as fresh as if it were the first time I had to lose someone who meant the world to me.
No matter how hard I tried to push the memory away, the night’s agonizing events played on a macabre loop in my head.
“Gavin!” I screamed over the roar of the crowd. From the instant the shots rang out, pandemonium had ensued. I pushed and shoved strangers out of the way, not giving a damn about their well-being. I was no longer in hero mode like in the beginning when all I could think of was shielding those kids. Now all I cared about was getting to Gavin, and I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. The longer I couldn’t find him, the more the rising panic in my chest grew. It became so intense that I began to wheeze from being unable to breathe.
Normally, in a crisis like this, we would be wired, and I would know within seconds his location and status. But I was stripped of all the devices that I’d come to rely on when I was in the field.
And then through all the chaos I saw him. I would have known his form anywhere. At the sight of him lying in the grass at the edge of the clearing, tears stung my eyes. I began shoving people harder and harder in order to get to Gavin.
When I finally reached his side, I dropped down beside him. “Gavin? Can you hear me?” Quickly, I scanned his body to assess his wounds. My eyes clamped shut in pain when I saw he had been hit in both the chest and the abdomen. Any other day, those wounds wouldn’t have been an issue, because he would have been wearing his bullet-proof vest.
Tears streaked down my cheeks, dripping onto Gavin’s blood-stained face. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Peterson’s emergency number. Before he picked up, I shook Gavin’s shoulders. “Don’t you dare die on me, Gavin!” I shrieked. Not caring about who was around me or might overhear me, I shouted, “That’s an order, dammit!”
His eyelids fluttered, and my heart jumped in my chest. “Gavin? Gavin, please look at me!”
Slowly his eyes opened, and he gazed up at me.
“There you are. Stay with me. Okay?”
“Hello? Vargas, is that you?” Peterson’s voice echoed from the phone.
Quickly, I related to him what had happened. Then I hung up before he could say anything else. I didn’t have time to talk to him. I needed to devote all my attention to Gavin.
“Peterson knows what happened, so once the ambulance gets here, they’ll radio in to take us to the best hospital around here. They might even airlift you, if you need it.”
Gavin wheezed out an agonized breath. “Love you. Always have . . . always will.”
My body shook as violent sobs racked me. “I love you, too. So fucking much. That’s why I want you to stay with me. Please, please stay with me.”
A beautiful smile lit up Gavin’s face. Without another word to me, he closed his eyes. When he went limp in my arms, a scream tore through me. “No! Sweet Jesus, no!” I buried my head in his chest, sobbing as hard as I had done the day my dad was taken from me. And once again it was at the hands of a biker.
In my warped sense of reality, it seemed that one moment I had cradled Gavin’s lifeless body in my arms, and then the next I found myself in a room off the ER at a hospital somewhere in Virginia. A scratchy blanket provided by an EMT was draped around my shoulders to fend off the rising chill spreading through my body. I blinked a few times to try to clear my eyes of the gritty feel from crying.
Someone had set a cup of black coffee on the table in front of me. Steam rose off the liquid. I reached out and took the cup in my trembling hands. As I brought the cup to my lips, I saw the rust-colored blood staining my hands.
Gavin’s blood.
My throat clenched, and I found I couldn’t take a sip. Instead, I felt like throwing up. With shaky fingers, I put the cup back down on the table. Once again, I found myself staring at my hands.
Twenty-two years ago I had done the same thing as I sat in a private holding room at the police station. No matter how many officers came inside that room with kind offers of sodas or candies, I ignored them and continued staring down at my hands covered in my father’s blood. The only person I finally acknowledged was my mother after she burst into the room. She took one look at me and my bloodied hands and clothes and collapsed into hysterics at my feet. I had had to offer her comfort in those first minutes before she got ahold of herself. It had been a hell of a lot for an eight-year-old kid to endure.
Just like then, time seemed to stand agonizingly still. I didn’t know how long I sat lost in my own world. I drifted in and out of a weird consciousness that was almost like sleeping, but I was fully awake. I paid no attention to the clicking hands on the wall clock. Time really had no meaning for me anymore. As with my father, it would be measured in the time before Gavin’s death and then the time after.
When the door opened, I glanced up to see Peterson, his face ashen. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother taking one of the chairs across from me. Instead, he sat down beside me. Eyeing the coffee cup in front of me, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a silver-plated flask. He poured a dark amber-colored liquid into the foam cup.
Staring at me, he brought the flask to his lips. After he took a long swig, I snaked one of my arms out of the blanket to take my cup. Although I should have sipped slowly, I sucked it down in one long, fiery, bitter gulp. The alcohol hit my stomach with a searing jolt, and I shuddered.
“I don’t know what the fuck to say to you right now,” Peterson said, his voice hoarse. After I gave a brief nod, he eased back in his chair. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems pretty evident. I’m sure you don’t need any of my psychobabble bullshit that you’re in shock or what a good agent and man Gavin was or that time heals all wounds, blah, blah.”
I gave him a weak smile. “I appreciate you nixing all the bullshit words of alleged comfort.” I held out my cup for a refill of the alcohol. He happily obliged me. After taking another long sip, I shifted in my chair. “Where the hell are we?”
“We backtracked you guys south to Richmond, since it had the closest field office.”
I nodded. “What happens now with Gavin?”
“The bureau contacted his parents, and we’re flying them out of Concord on the next plane. As his next of kin, they’ll be taking care of him from here.”
As I stared down into my once-again-empty cup, I couldn’t imagine the grief the McTavishes were experiencing. I might’ve lost my partner and best friend, but Gavin was their only son—their baby boy after two girls. They’d always been so supportive of him, from when he became an agent to when he came out.
Not wanting to think about them or my grief, I met Peterson’s gaze. “I guess we need to start working on what kind of story we’re going to spin to Bishop and the other Raiders.”
Peterson eased forward, taking my hand in his. “Samantha, there’s no easy way to say this, nor is there a right time to say it.”
I knew the shit was about to hit the fan when he didn’t call me Vargas like always. I glanced up at him. “What is it?”
He exhaled a painful sigh. “Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase. We don’t need to worry about a story for the Raiders, because without Gavin, there is no undercover case.”
Blinking several times, I tried to process his words. “You’re shutting down the mission?”
“Just the undercover aspect. We’re still going to monitor the Raiders and do the best we can with what we have on the outside, as well as the work you two have done so far.”
I jerked my hand away from his. “Are you fucking kidding me? Gavin hasn’t been dead twenty-four hours, and you and the bureau are already shutting down the case!”
“It’s nothing personal against Gavin. This is just how things are done. Undercover operations cost us money every second, and money talks.” After crossing his arms over his chest, he added, “Deep down, you know that.”
Even though what Peterson said was the truth, rage still boiled within me. It wasn’t as if the bureau had nine-to-five hours, and that meant that cases were decided on in the midnight hour just the same as they were in the light of day. Of course, when you lost an agent in the field, it often meant things were expedited.
“There’s still work to be done on the inside with the Raiders, especially after what happened tonight,” I countered.
“While I might agree, there is no way to get another agent trained and inside, least of all to find one who could gain the Raiders’ trust like Gavin.”
“I’m on the inside.”
Peterson’s eyes widened before he ran his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “Look, you’ve been through a devastating trauma tonight. There’s no reason why we need to be discussing this now. Take a week or two off to get your head on straight. Go back to Massachusetts with Gavin’s parents for the funeral.”
I gave an angry shake of my head. “Don’t dismiss me as incapable of taking down the Raiders just because I don’t have a dick.”
A low growl came from Peterson. “You need to step back, get your head out of your ass, and really think for a moment.”
“I am thinking. I’m wondering how you and the bureau can let all of Gavin’s hard work for the last two months go to waste when I can do this.”
“Pardon me for saying that it’s not us who is dismissing you for not having a dick; it would be the Raiders. You won’t get shit from any of them, even Bishop. You weren’t some patched member’s old lady. You were just a hang-around’s girlfriend. It’s a big fucking difference.” When I started to argue, he held up his hand. “Don’t think for a minute we would risk your life for what information it might bring. Especially not after losing Gavin.”
I controlled the volatile anger pulsing through me by sucking in a few deep breaths and exhaling them. Peterson eyed me as if he knew I was doing everything within my power not to go off on him. When I was finally able to speak again without losing my shit, I said, “I know Bishop better than you do—he will talk to me. It can still work.”
Peterson shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Vargas. The case is closed.”
“You’re the lead agent. You could reopen it.”
“How quickly you forget that we all answer to somebody. The higher-ups would have my ass if I tried to reopen the case by sending you in.”
With my anger rising again, I flicked the empty coffee cup with the back of my hand. It went sailing over the edge of the table. After it landed on the floor, I looked Peterson in the eye again. “I won’t give this up. I can’t. I have to find justice for Gavin.” When Peterson opened his mouth to argue, I shook my head. “It’s not just about Gavin. This case with the Raiders isn’t so black-and-white anymore. They were attacked today after an important meeting this morning. I have to find out the truth.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Peterson sighed. “You’re a grown woman with your own mind, and after living with my wife and two daughters, I know I can’t tell you what to do. But hear me when I say that whatever craziness you have running through your mind right now isn’t going to work. No matter how much you want to honor Gavin’s life, you won’t do it if you end up blowing your career, or worse, if you end up dead.”
“What I do off the record is of no concern to the bureau,” I countered.
“It is if it interferes with a mission.”
“The case is closed—you said so yourself.”
“No, the undercover aspect is closed. We will still be monitoring and collecting evidence on the Raiders.” Peterson leaned forward to place his hand on my shoulder. “Once again, I have to ask you to forget whatever plans you’re concocting in your head. You have a bright future at the ATF, Vargas. I want to be able to promote you in a year or two. The last thing I want to do is stand beside you as you clean out your desk because you’ve been fired.” He grimaced painfully. “Or worse, to stand beside your casket.”
With a roll of my eyes, I demanded, “How many times are you going to give me the fired-or-dead scenario?”
“As many as it takes to get it through your thick skull,” Peterson growled.
I had opened my mouth to argue some more when the door opened. An agent I’d never seen before poked his head in. “The McTavishes’ flight is about thirty minutes out. We have a car waiting to take you to meet them.”
“Thank you, Agent Sunderland.”
After nodding, Agent Sunderland closed the door.
“Would you like to come with me?”
Seeing Gavin’s grief-stricken parents was the last thing I wanted to do. On the other hand, my only other option was to sit alone in the room with my thoughts. With a humorless smile, I asked, “You got anything left in that flask to help fortify me for the trip?”
“If I don’t, we can make a pit stop.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise. “What would the bureau think about that one?”
Peterson rose out of his chair and offered me his hand. “On this one occasion, I would tell them to fuck off.”
I couldn’t help being surprised when a laugh escaped my lips. “I never imagined you to be a rebel.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
After momentarily weighing his words, I slipped my hand into his. “Yes. I do believe they do.”