Chapter 3
BLACKJACK
“Blackjack. Reaper told me about the explosion. How can we help?”
“I need you to listen to a theory,” I began.
“Go ahead.”
“There were three sequenced charges. Whoever set them had a structural read of the building before they walked in.”
“Who do you think is responsible?” he asked.
“Romanov.”
“We’ve been after those bastards ourselves,” he seethed as much as said.
“We need reinforcements, Doc. We lost thirteen operatives in that blast.”
“Understood. Gunner, Razor, and I will head out tonight and be there sometime tomorrow.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Get some rest, Blackjack. I want you functional when we land.”
“Yes, sir.”
The call ended.
I gave up on sleep before dawn. Every time I closed my eyes, the ceiling of the building that housed Minerva Protocol’s headquarters came down again. Finally, I got dressed and went downstairs.
My brother was in the dining room, with a legal pad.
He’d been up longer than me, given the list in front of him already filled two pages.
Mrs. Eggers, the housekeeper who’d been with the family for decades, had set out a breakfast spread on the sideboard.
Platters of pastries, bread, cheese, cold meats, and fruit filled the surface, while pitchers of water and juice sat at one end.
“Morning, Kingston.”
“Morning.” He stood and embraced me. That was not our typical routine, but after yesterday’s events, maybe it should be.
“How can I help?”
“Mercury wants everyone fed and hydrated before the day starts. Her orders.” He tapped the legal pad. “I’ve been on the phone with the cantonal police. They’ve sealed the site, but I think I can get us a window this morning before federal police take full control.”
“How big a window?”
“A few hours. Maybe less. Henry made a call to someone in the Vaud government last night, and that bought us some goodwill, but once the federal investigators arrive, it’s out of cantonal hands.”
I needed as much time as I could get at the site. Blast patterns would tell me where the charges had been placed, and their placement would tell me how someone got inside without anyone knowing. The answers were in that rubble.
“Mercury is in the study,” Kingston said.
I grabbed a piece of bread off the sideboard and went down the hall. The study door was open, and she was at the desk, with papers spread in front of her. Henry sat beside her with his hand resting near hers on the arm of her chair.
“Blackjack.” Mercury’s voice was steady, but exhaustion had darkened the skin under her eyes. “Sit down.”
I pulled a chair to the front of the desk.
“The remains were transported overnight to the Centre Universitaire Romand de Médecine Légale in Lausanne. The Vaud prosecutor has ordered autopsies on all thirteen.”
I’d checked pulses on some of those people and marked where their bodies lay for the recovery crews. Yesterday, they were shapes under dust. Now, they were in a forensic institute, and someone in a lab coat would be the next person to touch them.
“Have the families been notified?”
“Henry, Amaryllis, and I split the calls.”
Mercury had done it. She’d made those calls while I was upstairs, failing to sleep. There were thirteen families on the list to be notified. But, by the grace of God, mine wasn’t on it.
“The prosecutor’s office will hold the remains until examinations are complete,” Henry said. “Services can’t be planned until the bodies are released.”
“How long?”
“Days. Possibly longer.”
Mercury pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Has Reaper been to the site yet?”
“My brother’s working on getting us a window with the cantonal police.”
“Good. We’ll meet once everyone is awake. There are decisions that won’t wait. Has Katarina come down?”
“No.”
“She has a broken arm and a knee that failed her twice last night,” Mercury said.
“The field medic taped gauze over her head wound, and that’s the extent of the medical care she’s received.
She needs a hospital, not a bedroom, and she won’t ask for help getting to either one.
Would you check on her? She won’t want you to. Go anyway.”
I was on my feet before she finished.
I knocked and opened the door when no one answered.
She stood at the foot of the bed, trying to get her shirt off. Her right hand had the hem, but her left arm wouldn’t cooperate past the brace, and the fabric had bunched around her shoulders and trapped her good arm halfway up.
“Mercury sent you.”
“She’s worried about your arm.”
“My arm is fine. What’s not fine is that I can’t undress myself. I need to shower. I have dust in my hair and blood in places I don’t want to think about, and I can’t do any of it one-handed.”
“I can help. I’ll face the other way, and you tell me what you need.”
She stared at me for two full seconds.
“I cannot be the first woman you’ve seen naked.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Then, stop acting like it and come help me get this off.”
I crossed the room and took the hem of the shirt from where she’d left it bunched at her shoulders. I eased the fabric over the brace on her left arm first, working it past the rigid edges so it wouldn’t catch, then over her head.
I’d noticed Katarina Stepanova the first day I visited the estate in Lausanne.
Her dark hair fell past her shoulders, and her eyes were almost black.
She had the kind of beauty that made it difficult to focus on whoever was speaking when she was in the room.
We hadn’t worked together much in three weeks, but I’d noticed every time she entered a room.
She was lean and athletic and carried herself like someone who’d earned every inch of the body she lived in.
Now, she stood in front of me without a shirt. Her breasts were small but perfect, and her dusty pink nipples made my mouth water. Then I saw the bruising. The purple ran from her ribs to her hip in a solid sheet. She didn’t cover herself or look away. She huffed as if I was wasting her time.
“Trousers next. I can’t bend the knee far enough to get them past it.”
I crouched in front of her and undid the button. She settled her good hand on my shoulder for balance while I worked the trousers down past the knee brace. Her fingers dug in when the fabric caught and she had to shift her weight onto the bad leg. I got them clear, and she stepped out of them.
The thong had the same problem. It wasn’t getting past her knee without help.
She looked at me. I crouched down, hooked my fingers into the fabric, and worked it past the brace.
My face was level with her hips. She stepped out of it, and at that distance, there was no mistaking that her body had responded to the last three minutes the same way mine had.
She was better at hiding it. I rushed to the window so fast that I nearly tripped over the cane she’d left by the bed.
“Blackjack.”
“Give me a second.”
“Oh my God. Are you a virgin?”
“No, I’m not a virgin. I—” What was I about to do? Defend my sexual prowess?
“Then, what is the problem?”
“The problem is that I’m a professional, and you’re injured, and I’m—” I didn’t finish the sentence. There was no version of ending it that made the situation better.
She laughed. It lasted half a second, and it changed her whole face. “You’re a grown man. It happens. Get over it and help me into the bathroom.”
I turned around. Her expression was closer to amusement than I’d gotten from her so far. I walked over and offered my arm. She took it, and I helped her to the bathroom.
The shower was a walk-in with a bench. She sat on it, and I turned the water on for her.
“I can wash most of myself. I need you for my hair and my left side where I can’t reach.”
“Okay.”
“You can look at me. You managed to undress me without passing out. The hard part’s over.”
She leaned her head back, and I washed her hair, working the dust out with both hands while the water ran brown and then clear.
I was careful around the taped gauze that covered the gash at her hairline.
She didn’t make a sound. I used the washcloth on her left side where the bruising was worst. She flinched once when I went over the ribs.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It needs to get done.”
I finished and turned the water off. She stayed seated while I got a towel and handed it to her. She dried what she could reach, and I did the rest without either of us saying a word, then I put the brace on her knee.
I helped her to the bed, where she’d laid out clean clothes. I crouched, and she stepped into the underwear and trousers while she held my shoulder. I pulled them up, then took the shirt and started on the buttons from the bottom. My fingers were less steady than they’d been on the washcloth.
“Better in the shower than getting me dressed. Promising.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Determined to make sure the person helping you is more uncomfortable than you are.”
She half smiled. “It’s one of my better qualities.”
I brushed her hair as gently as I could. As was to be expected, Beacon huffed with impatience rather than thank me.
“The cantonal police have given us a window at the site this morning,” I said. “We have a few hours before fedpol takes over. I need to get over there to read the blast patterns. You need to get to the hospital for imaging on your knee and arm.”
“I’m going to the site.”
“You can do both. Hospital is twenty minutes from there.”
“We have to go to the site first, Blackjack.”
Knowing she’d never agree to it, I stopped myself from saying someone else could take her to the ER while I went directly to the site.
“What are you waiting for?” she said, standing on the threshold leading to the hallway, with one hand on her hip and the other on the cane.
I followed, unsure if I should help or let her manage on her own.