High Risk G.K. Parks (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📖

performed the proper damage control. But with any luck, they wouldn’t have cell service until they disembarked from their cruise. I didn’t want this to ruin their trip.

“You’re being dumb.” Emma tucked the phone away. “They’d want to be here. We could have lost you. Do you understand that?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

She climbed off the bed and glared at me. “I’m not.” The door opened, but Brad remained in the doorway. “Tell her I’m not.”

“You’re not what?” Brad asked. For a moment, I thought my partner might make a run for it. But if he did, he’d look like a coward in front of his fellow detectives and the police brass.

“Being dramatic,” Emma insisted. “Vince and Maria would want to be here.”

“She’s right,” Brad said.

“No.” I saw the guilt cross his features. He called them already. He told them to come home. “You have to call them back. They’re going to panic. Tell them I’m okay. Tell them not to come. I just left voicemails, but it’d mean more coming from you.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll take care of it.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “You don’t look so good, Liv. Are you tired? You should probably get some sleep. The doctor’s pretty concerned about the blood loss. You shouldn’t exert yourself too much.”

Truthfully, I was exhausted. If I closed my eyes for more than three seconds, I’d be out like a light, but I also knew for Brad to ask that, the brass had questions. Sleep could wait. “It’s okay. Send them in.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I answered their questions until I couldn’t anymore. And then I slept.

The next two days were a blur. I spent most of it passed out in a hospital bed. The few waking hours I had were spent with the police brass, IAD investigators, Voletek and Lisco. Brad hadn’t left my side, aside from having to answer some questions and the occasional bathroom or shower break. Emma appeared to be fighting with him over who had priority to watch over me, but they kept the bickering to a minimum, which I appreciated.

“It must be nice to be so loved,” Lt. Winston said. He reached for one of the cards in the nearest arrangement. “I got injured once. The entire unit pitched in and got me a balloon basket. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?” He laughed, noticing a similar arrangement on the other side of the room. “Never mind. It must be a homicide thing. Since you can’t solve murders right not, here are some smiley face balloons.” He ran a hand down his face. “Sheesh, if those don’t make you want to get back to work, I don’t know what will.”

“Any progress on the case?” I asked.

Winston glanced from me to Brad. “Not yet, but we’ll get these guys. At least they haven’t killed anyone since the attempted murder of a police detective.” He worked something loose from between his back teeth. “It goes without saying, but in case you need reminding, neither of you are allowed anywhere near this.”

“But sir,” Brad argued, “there’s no reason I can’t—”

“She’s your partner. Don’t tell me your judgment’s not clouded. You know the rules. You’re too close. Hell, the whole unit’s too close, but we’re going to see this through. Voletek and Lisco will handle it. I assigned everyone we got to it. Intelligence offered us a hand. We’re going to find these assholes, and we’re going to take them down.” He looked back at me. “Are you still having a hard time remembering details?”

“I’m not sure. I just feel like I’m forgetting something.”

He licked his lips. “Doctors said that happens with trauma. But it should come back. You spoke to the department counselor and that expert the FBI sent over. They think once you have time to process, you’ll remember more details. Once you do, make sure to let me know. In the meantime, we’ll drop by if we have questions. Who knows, maybe it’ll help jog your memory.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gripped the rail at the end of the bed. “Feel better, DeMarco. And once you do, we’re gonna have a chat about what you were doing alone in that liquor store in the first place.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeated, dreading the inevitable.

Twenty-seven

“Brad, go home.”

He looked around my apartment. “You’re one to talk. You should be at home.”

“This is my home.”

“You know what I mean.” He turned down my bed. “For a moment there, I thought I was going to have to carry you up the steps. So lie down, or I’ll end up scooping you off the floor.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Nothing about this is okay.” He backed away from the bed and rubbed his eyes. “Look, until Emma gets off work, you’re stuck with me. So get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.” He peered out the window at the patrol car who’d been assigned for my protection. “Winston should have assigned more than one unit. I don’t like this. They haven’t made a move since they attacked you, but by now, the news has broken. They must know you’re still alive. We can’t take any chances.”

“What about the liquor store owner? They’ll go after him. He knows what they look like, at least one of them. I don’t even know that.”

“He’s in protective custody.”

I nodded, searching my dresser for clean clothes. Emma had brought me the clothes I was wearing, but now they smelled like a hospital. And that was one smell I wanted to shake.

“If he’d come forward when you first approached him, none of this would have happened.” The anger burned in Brad’s eyes. “We’d have these assholes or at least have some idea who they are. They wouldn’t have gotten the drop on you. They wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“I know.”