Wake up dammit!”

That voice. I know that voice.

“Yeah, I need an ambulance. Fast, please. Detective Brianna Andrews’ residence. 593 Palms Road, Unit 203. She’s been shot. Bri, open your eyes, baby.”

He sounds stressed—troubled. And who did he say has been shot?

Memories suddenly flood my head and with them comes pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

I try to suck in air, but it only causes more pain.

“Hold on,” he tells someone. “Bri?”

Oh, God, it hurts.

I hurt.

“Off. Get . . . it off.” I can’t breathe. I need it off of me now.

“Get what off?”

I open my eyes, but my vision is fuzzy at first. I can make out Drago in the haze, and I realize he’s leaning over me, looking everywhere but at my eyes. His gaze darts up and down me and his chest heaves like he’s panicking.

“Vest.” I attempt to lift my arm to my shirt but only manage a few inches off the floor before my energy vanishes and I drop it back down.

It feels like someone has taken a steel baseball bat and done a number on my body. There isn’t a single inch of me that doesn’t hurt—some places more than others. There is a fire burning so fiercely in my thigh I start shaking uncontrollably.

Drago must understand I mean the bulletproof vest underneath my shirt because he yanks it open, not caring to unbutton it first. I’m grateful in this circumstance.

I’m met with a small amount of relief when the Velcro is loosened, but then my stomach erupts in pain, followed by a rush of nausea.

I’m going to throw up.

Saliva pools in my mouth like someone has released a damn, opening the floodgates.

I roll to my side despite the protests of sharp pains shooting through my lower abdomen and upward.

Definitely got shot. The bullets may not have penetrated skin, but they’ve done a number on my innards.

“Hair. Grab.”

He pulls the long strands of my hair out of the way seconds before I lose the contents of my stomach onto the floor.

“An ambulance is on the way.”

I don’t give a damn about an ambulance.

Gabriel.

“Gabe,” I force out as I roll back over.

Planting my palm on the floor, I use every bit of strength I have to push myself away from my puke. Drago grabs my upper arms and a leg, assisting in moving me a few feet away.

Talking is becoming tougher. My ribs obviously took an impact. I wouldn’t be surprised if one was cracked—or even broken.

When I look up, alarm is written all over Drago’s face.

“Where is he? What the fuck happened here?”

“He took . . . him.” My voice cracks, tears threatening to spill.

I let Diaz take him. I didn’t protect him like I’m supposed to.

“Who?”

“Se . . . bastian Diaz.”

The hand he has wrapped around my knee tightens.

“Why would he be here? What reason would he have had?” I can see Drago’s mind churning, but he’ll never guess the right reason. “And why would he take the boy?”

I don’t get the chance to answer—to tell him Diaz has his son.

“Andrews?”

We both turn our heads toward the door as Mike enters, gun drawn.

“Step away from her,” he demands as he aims his weapon in Drago’s line.

“Mike,” I force out but regret raising my voice. “Put it away. No threat.”

Shit.

“Not until he moves.”

“Not going to happen.” Drago inches closer to me as the words fall from his lips, obviously not giving a care despite a gun being pointed at him.

“Mike,” I call out to get his attention on me. “Neighbor. Ms. Lincoln. Check . . . on her.”

“Why are you breathing in gasps?”

“Because she’s been fucking shot!”

It’s then I notice the red staining my leg and remember being hit in the thigh.

“Calm down,” I demand. “Both of you.”

“Where are the paramedics?” He’s directing his question at Mike.

That’s when two men brush past Mike as they enter my condo. One, the taller of the two by about half a foot and blond, is carrying a medical bag my way. The other, a shorter man with jet-black hair stops next to Mike.

“Neighbor!” I holler as I stare Mike down.

Finally, he holsters his weapon then disappears out the door. The other paramedic follows behind him.

“About time,” Drago mumbles under his breath, but loud enough to be heard. I’m not sure if he’s referring to Mike leaving or the paramedics arriving.

I need him to hurry up across the hall though. Sure, I’m worried about Ms. Lincoln, but I’m a hell of a lot more worried about Gabe and I need Mike to issue the Amber Alert to the news media ASAP.

The only reason I didn’t have him do it before is because I have to think and act the way I’ve been trained. Ms. Lincoln is here, and Gabriel isn’t. She could be seriously injured and in need of medical treatment herself.

I didn’t have a choice. I had to have him check on her. If Diaz tried to kill me then what did he do to her?

“Are you Detective Brianna Andrews?” the blond paramedic asks as he kneels next to me.

“No, she’s the other cop that’s been shot.”

Drago’s sarcasm is starting to piss me off. If my head wasn’t already pounding from the beating I took—I’m not even sure how long ago—I’d be convinced he was the cause of it. He certainly isn’t helping matters with his mouth.

“Enough,” I say to him, then turn my attention toward the young man on the other side of me. “Yes, I am.”

He opens the bag he brought and produces a pair of latex gloves. Once he pulls them onto both of his hands, he pushes the bag out of the way.

“Can you tell me where all of your injuries are?”

“Sure.” I take a small moment of silence, not wanting to speak the words because speaking makes my body hurt worse even though I know I have to tell him.

Apparently, I take too long because Drago proceeds to speak for me.

“She was shot in the leg and she was—”

“Sir, with all due respect, I need to hear them from her.”

“Are you—” I cut him off.

“Drago.” He looks at me. “Please,” I stress. “Go find an officer. We need to get the Amber Alert issued now.”

His eyes soften, and his head pulls back as if he just remembered.

“Fine.”

Luckily for me, he doesn’t argue. I’m a little surprised, but I’ll take it. Maybe he too is worried about Gabriel.

God, I hope so.

Once he’s gone, I list off my injuries to the paramedic. His partner soon joins him and just as I’m wrapping up, Mike walks through the door once again followed by an irritated looking Drago and two uniformed officers.

“What’s he talking about an Amber Alert?” Mike throws his thumb backward pointing at Drago.

“Sebastian Diaz took Gabriel. We need to alert the media immediately and have a warrant issued for his arrest.” Mike’s brows dip. “He’s the one that did this. That tried to kill me.”

“You mean the baby that was left at the precinct, what three months ago? That Gabriel?”

“YES!” I see where he’s going, but I don’t care.

“Why on earth was he still in your care? Why was he here and not with child services?”

“Worry about that later.” I suck in a breath, only making it hurt worse, but I push through it. “A child was kidnapped, Mike. Get the fucking Amber Alert handled.”

He stares at me for a few seconds—a few seconds too long—but finally disappears out of the door, slapping his palm on it for good measure.

Mike is a good man—a good cop. I know he’ll do what needs to be done to get the alert out and a warrant issued for the monster that took him.

Sadly, the chances of us finding him are slim. Not unless Sebastian wants him found.

That leaves Drago . . .

I have to tell him what Diaz wants. Who he has and so help me God, I pray he forgives me for not telling him before now.

“Detective, we need to get you down to the ambulance. Can you stand?”

Can I?

I think so. I was lucky. I wasn’t terribly injured. I’ll have to go to the hospital to confirm and to have my ribs x-rayed, but all-in-all, I’m in okay shape.

“Yes.”

He stands first, Jeremy, the paramedic that’s been with me for the past ten or fifteen minutes. He offers his hand to help me up. I take it and I’m pulled gently to my feet.

Everything is fine until I take the first step in Drago’s direction. That’s when a crippling pain cuts through my middle section. I double over, intending to grab my stomach, but instead, I’m consumed by a pitch of darkness.

---