Chapter 29
The noise outside grew louder, shouting and someone blaring on a bullhorn.
Coop rounded the side of the building, coming to check the front, when he spotted Tasha under the drive-up canopy with Caleb.
They were standing apart from the protest with other onlookers, watching as police moved several demonstrators toward waiting patrol cars.
Relief hit first. Irritation followed.
He strode forward, pausing once to show his badge, then clipped it to his belt. “Tasha.”
She turned. “Dad—”
“I thought you were getting some air,” he said.
“I was,” she said defensively. “But things got interesting.”
Caleb lifted both hands slightly. “We stayed behind the line.”
He glanced between them then let out a breath. “The show’s over. Let’s find your grandparents and call it a night.”
“Already?” she asked, glancing once more toward the protestors being loaded into a van.
“Already,” he repeated. His tone left no room for argument.
He rested a hand on her shoulder, steering her inside. The ballroom crowd had thinned, with the last guests heading for the exits. Arrests had a way of putting a damper on a celebration.
Coop walked straight to his parents. His mother looked up with a small smile. “Where did you find her?”
“Outside.” He immediately noticed the empty chair next to his. “Where’s Erica?”
His mother frowned. “She isn’t with you?”
Cold settled in his gut. “I asked an agent I know to escort her back. She should have returned by now.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Unknown number, extension not local.
“Cooper,” he answered curtly.
“Lieutenant, this is Price with the task force. We’ve got a situation in Garage Level One.”
Everything snapped into focus. “Talk to me.”
“The female you arrived with. She’s with Agent Morgan. There’s trouble.”
“Stay here,” he told his parents, already on the move.
“Forced movement from the elevator. She’s not cooperating. We’ve got men responding.”
He heard hesitancy in Price’s voice.
“Give me all of it,” he demanded.
“SUV idling nearby. We’re running plates now.”
He didn’t tell them not to bother. He already knew, but he was too busy dodging guests and servers as they cleared tables.
He hit the corridor at a dead run. Skipping the elevator, Coop sprinted down the stairs to the lower level.
When he pushed through the metal doors into the garage, the air smelled of exhaust.
A black Escalade sped past, moving too fast. Hazel eyes in a pale face appeared in the window.
“Erica!”
Their eyes locked for a moment. Then, he could only watch helplessly as the SUV shot toward the ramp, tires screeching.
He noticed movement near a concrete pillar. Kyle Morgan moved into the open, gun already raised. The sight stopped him cold.
“What have you done?”
Morgan tilted his head, appearing amused. “You don’t expect me to live on a government salary, do you?”
Rage roiled inside him. “You son of a—”
A gunshot rang out.
Coop ducked behind the nearest column, drew his weapon, and returned fire.
Morgan ducked as the round struck the pillar next to him, sending concrete dust into the air. He fired again while backing away. The shot pinged off the parked sedan beside him.
The ricochet caught him, tearing through his shoulder and punching out his chest. He staggered against the column as his vision blurred and the garage spun.
Voices cut through the haze, overlapping.
“Freeze! Federal agents!”
“Armed suspect on foot!”
“He’s in the garage. South side!”
Radios crackled. Footsteps pounded.
Help was here. Too late.
He held on, swaying. Then his legs gave out, and he hit the floor.
Someone dropped beside him. “Officer down! Need medics down here now!”
The last thing he saw was Erica’s face in the window. Then everything went dark.
***
One moment, Vince was rushing toward her; the next, the SUV lurched forward. As it pulled away, she twisted in her seat. For a moment, he was framed in the rear window. Then she saw movement behind him.
“Vince!” she screamed as Morgan raised his weapon and took aim.
But her warning was a waste of breath. He couldn’t hear, and the gray walls of the garage cut him off from view.
Gunfire cracked through the air. Pain tore through her, fierce and blinding. She doubled over, clutching her chest. A broken sound left her because she knew the pain wasn’t hers. It was his.
Hard fingers clamped onto her arm. “What’s wrong with you?” Kedrov said, irritation cutting through his calm. “You better not be ill.”
She was. Violently so. Darkness rolled off him, suffocating her. She yanked her arm away, gagging, but the connection remained.
The images came to her, not in a rush or in chaos, but in a slow, deliberate order. As if his mind were opening doors for her one by one.
A boy standing beside a man with white hair.
A hand guiding him toward a choice he never questioned.
A young man in a tailored coat standing at a graveside.
That same young man giving orders that others obeyed without hesitation.
Now an older man, colder, more ruthless.
A world that bent because demanded it to.
Though separate, each image stacked on top of the last. They didn’t feel like memories or emotions, but something much more intentional. A life arranged.
The images fractured suddenly. Then something worse happened. The pain stopped.
Just like that.
And with it, something else disappeared. Something she hadn’t noticed until it was gone. Her connection to Vince.
Not the sudden flashes and often overwhelming flood from strangers that she spent her life trying to control. With him, there had only ever been warmth, safety, and the quiet certainty of him. Now there was no comfort, no presence. Nothing. He was gone.
“Vince…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
She slumped against the seat as the SUV sped through the city, carrying her away from the man she had loved like no other. Her lungs seized in a silent gasp, her chest aching, and her vision tunneling until everything went black.