Chapter 2 - THE BULLET CAME FROM INSIDE“You threaten all your patients?”
Tessa finished taping the IV against Rafe Calder’s forearm.
“Only the ones who mistake blood loss for leadership.”
June laughed from the second ambulance.
Rafe did not.
But something almost happened at the corner of his mouth.
Then his face went pale.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for Tessa to notice.
She caught his shoulder.
“Hey.”
“I’m fine.”
“Congratulations. Every bleeding man says that right before proving himself wrong.”
His gray eyes sharpened.
Tessa checked his pulse.
Too fast.
She looked at the monitor.
Blood pressure falling.
Not catastrophically.
But wrong.
“Your wound is through-and-through,” she said. “You shouldn’t be dropping like this.”
Rafe looked toward Malcolm.
“June?”
“Stable.”
“Good.”
Tessa pressed fresh gauze against Rafe’s side.
He barely reacted.
That bothered her too.
“Any medication?”
“No.”
“Blood thinners?”
“No.”
“Supplements?”
“No.”
“Allergies?”
“People asking too many questions.”
Tessa looked at him.
“That one usually isn’t fatal.”
Malcolm coughed suspiciously outside the ambulance.
Then Rafe’s pupils changed.
Tessa leaned closer.
“What were you drinking at the hotel?”
“Water.”
“Only water?”
“Yes.”
“Who poured it?”
Rafe frowned.
“I don’t know.”
Tessa immediately reached for the radio.
“Tell the ER we may have toxic exposure on top of penetrating trauma.”
Rafe caught her wrist again.
This time weaker.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking your gunshot isn’t the only thing wrong.”
The amusement vanished.
“Poison?”
“I said possible exposure.”
“Same word in my world.”
“Then welcome to mine. We wait for evidence.”
The ambulance doors closed.
For the next nine minutes, Rafe Calder—whose name had appeared in newspapers beside phrases like organized crime, federal investigation, waterfront influence and alleged syndicate leadership—did exactly what Tessa told him.
Mostly.
He tried once to answer a phone.
She removed it from his hand.
He stared.
“You took my phone.”
“You’re hypotensive.”
“I can be hypotensive and speak.”
“You can also be hypotensive and shut up.”
Malcolm looked through the small rear window.
Rafe said:
“You enjoying this?”
“More than I should, boss.”
Rafe made a mental note to fire him.
Again.
At Massachusetts General, the trauma team moved fast.
Tessa gave report.
Thirty-nine-year-old male.
Gunshot wound to right upper torso.
No obvious major vascular injury.
Unexplained hypotension.
Possible ingestion.
Rafe was pushed toward imaging.
He twisted his head.
“Tessa.”
She almost corrected him.
Nurse Ward.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“June.”
“I’ll check.”
His eyes held hers for one second.
“Thank you.”
That surprised her more than anything.
Tessa found June in a treatment bay receiving six stitches near her hairline.
“You’re the woman who made my brother sit down.”
“That seems to be how I’m being introduced tonight.”
June smiled.
She was thirty-one, elegant even with dried blood on her temple and an evening gown torn near one shoulder.
“He likes you.”
Tessa nearly dropped the chart.
“He has known me eighteen minutes.”
“That’s twelve minutes longer than most people need to irritate him.”
“Your brother is a patient.”
“He is also unmarried.”
“Your anesthesia appears to be affecting judgment.”
June laughed.
Then stopped suddenly.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Tessa asked.
“My purse.”
“What about it?”
“It’s gone.”
“Hotel?”
“No.”
June looked toward the security guard posted outside.
“I had it after the shooting.”
“What was inside?”
June’s eyes moved to Tessa.
For the first time, fear entered them.
“Nothing important.”
Tessa had spent enough time around wounded soldiers to recognize a lie delivered under pressure.
“Okay.”
June studied her.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“You’re not my patient anymore.”
“You’re very strange.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Before June could respond, Malcolm entered.
He looked at the empty chair beside the bed.
“Where’s your bag?”
June’s face hardened.
“I don't know.”
Malcolm went completely still.
That told Tessa everything she needed to know.
The bag mattered.
A lot.
“Was it stolen?”
Tessa asked.
Neither answered.
Then Malcolm’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Lock the floor.”
June sat straighter.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to access Rafe’s treatment room using hospital credentials.”
Tessa frowned.
“Who?”
“Unknown.”
“That’s not possible without a badge.”
“We have video.”
He turned the screen.
A man in blue scrubs walked through a staff-only corridor carrying a medication tray.
Tessa leaned closer.
“That’s not one of ours.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
She pointed.
“His badge is clipped backward.”
Malcolm frowned.
“So?”
“Hospital staff wear badges facing out because scanners and patients need to see identification.”
She looked closer.
“And those aren’t hospital shoes.”
“What?”
“Look.”
Black tactical footwear.
Clean.
Wrong.
The man disappeared around the corner thirty seconds before a real nurse entered Rafe’s bay.
“What was he carrying?” Malcolm asked.
Tessa zoomed.
A saline bag.
Two syringes.
Her stomach tightened.
“Where is Rafe?”
“CT.”
“Who’s with him?”
“Two guards.”
“Call them.”
Malcolm did.
No answer.
Tessa was already moving.
“Ward.”
Malcolm followed.
“You’re not going alone.”
“This is my hospital.”
“Exactly. You know where you’re going.”
“That logic does not mean what you think it means.”
They reached radiology.
One guard was unconscious beside the service elevator.
The second lay inside the hallway.
Breathing.
Both alive.
Tessa ran.
“Code security!”
The CT suite door stood open.
Rafe was sitting on the edge of the scanning table.
Bare-chested.
IV hanging beside him.
One hand wrapped around the throat of the man from the security video.
Tessa stopped.
The impostor’s syringe lay on the floor.
Rafe looked toward her.
“I believe this belongs to you.”
The man struggled.
Rafe tightened his grip.
“Let him breathe.”
“He tried to inject something into my line.”
“I gathered that.”
“He isn’t very cooperative.”
“He’ll become permanently uncooperative if you crush his airway.”
Rafe released him enough to breathe.
Security rushed in.
Malcolm took control.
Tessa picked up the syringe carefully.
“Don’t touch it bare-handed.”
A technician brought a specimen container.
The impostor was restrained.
He looked at Rafe.
Then smiled.
“You should’ve died outside the hotel.”
Rafe’s expression became frighteningly empty.
Tessa watched him.
This was the moment she expected the stories to become true.
The ruthless Mafia boss.
The man who had people disappeared.
The giant everyone backed away from.
Rafe stepped toward the attacker.
Tessa put one hand against his chest again.
“Don’t.”
He looked down.
“You understand what he just said?”
“Yes.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re touching me like that again.”
“You noticed.”
The room went silent.
Rafe could have moved her.
Could have ignored her.
Instead he stopped.
Tessa lowered her voice.
“If he knows something, you need him alive.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s your medical opinion?”
“That’s my common-sense opinion.”
The stranger laughed.
Rafe looked at him.
Then stepped back.
“Give him to police.”
Malcolm looked surprised.
“Boss?”
“You heard me.”
The man’s smile vanished.
That interested Tessa.
He had expected violence.
Maybe even counted on it.
Rafe saw the same thing.
“Who hired you?” Malcolm asked.
The prisoner said nothing.
Tessa looked down at the syringe.
Then at Rafe’s admission labs arriving on a tablet.
Her brow furrowed.
“What?”
Rafe asked.
She checked again.
“Your blood has traces of a sedative.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I wasn’t sedated.”
“Not enough to knock you out.”
“Enough to do what?”
“Slow your reaction time. Lower blood pressure. Make you less stable after blood loss.”
Malcolm swore.
Tessa continued.
“Someone may have drugged you before the shooting.”
Rafe’s face changed.
“The water.”
“Maybe.”
He looked toward Malcolm.
“Hotel service staff.”
“Already being checked.”
Tessa pointed toward the wound.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
She had seen the entrance and exit during the first assessment.
Now the CT trajectory made the detail obvious.
“The bullet entered from your right rear side.”
“Yes.”
“You said the gunfire came from the street.”
“It did.”
“No.”
She rotated the scan.
“Not this bullet.”
Everyone stopped.
Rafe stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
“The shooter who hit you was elevated and behind you.”
Malcolm looked toward him.
The hotel entrance had been behind Rafe.
The street had been in front.
Tessa continued.
“Based on the angle, approximately fifteen to twenty degrees downward.”
Rafe became completely still.
“Second floor.”
Malcolm whispered:
“Ballroom balcony.”
The Grand Hawthorne’s charity gala had occupied the hotel’s main ballroom.
A second-floor gallery wrapped around the lobby.
Reserved for staff.
Security.
VIP organizers.
Rafe looked toward Malcolm.
“How many people had clearance upstairs?”
Malcolm did not answer immediately.
“Seven.”
“Names.”
“Me.”
Rafe waited.
“June.”
Another.
“Two security officers.”
Another.
“The hotel events director.”
Another.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
“And Victor.”
Tessa noticed Rafe’s reaction.
Small.
But immediate.
“Who’s Victor?”
June’s voice came from the hallway.
“My uncle.”
Everyone turned.
She had left her treatment room despite instructions.
Of course.
Apparently stubbornness was genetic.
June looked at Rafe.
“Tell her the rest.”
Rafe said nothing.
June did.
“Victor Calder is the man who helped raise us after our father died.”
Tessa understood.
Trusted family.
Inside access.
Rafe looked at Malcolm.
“Where is he?”
Malcolm checked his phone.
His expression changed.
“He left the hotel eight minutes after the shooting.”
“Destination?”
“Unknown.”
June looked pale.
Then Tessa noticed something else.
June’s hands were shaking.
Not from injury.
“You said your missing purse contained nothing important.”
June looked at her brother.
Rafe looked back.
A silent conversation.
Tessa sighed.
“I hate rich families.”
June almost smiled.
Then she reached into the hidden pocket of her torn evening dress.
And pulled out a small brass key.
“My purse was a distraction.”
Rafe’s expression hardened.
“June.”
“I had to.”
“What does it open?”
Tessa asked.
June looked at her brother.
Then at Malcolm.
“A safe-deposit box.”
“What’s inside?”
Rafe answered this time.
“Proof that someone has been stealing from my organization for nine years.”
June swallowed.
“And proof that my father may not have died from natural causes.”
The room went silent.
Rafe stared at his sister.
“You never told me that part.”
“I found the records yesterday.”
“What records?”
June reached into her other pocket.
Nothing.
Her face changed.
“No.”
“What?”
“The flash drive.”
She searched again.
Gone.
“June.”
“It was here.”
Malcolm immediately moved.
“Where did you last touch it?”
“At the hotel.”
Rafe looked toward the captured assassin.
Then toward the scan showing a shot from inside the ballroom.
Someone had drugged him.
Someone inside the hotel had shot him.
Someone had stolen the evidence June carried.
And somebody had sent a fake medical worker into the hospital to finish what the first bullet started.
Tessa stared at the enormous man sitting shirtless on the edge of the CT table.
For the first time, she understood something the city’s newspapers had never explained.
Rafe Calder was dangerous.
May you like
But tonight, somebody who knew him intimately was even more dangerous.
And whoever it was now knew the combat nurse who had kept Rafe alive could recognize the man sent to kill him.
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