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Finding The Edge
Debra Webb
She’s a target – and only he can save her…Bodyguard Todd Christian has been hired to protect ER nurse Eva Bowman, who’s been targeted by a dangerous gang. But she’s the woman Todd has never been able to forget! After walking away once – Todd’s not going to make that mistake again!
There’s a target on her back.
And only he can save her.
How can his latest assignment not be personal? Bodyguard Todd Christian has been hired to protect ER nurse Eva Bowman. Not only has she been marked for death by a dangerous gang, but also she’s the woman Todd has never been able to forget. He chose to walk away from her—and the heat between them—once. That’s not a mistake Todd is making again.
DEBRA WEBB is the award-winning USA TODAY bestselling author of more than one hundred novels, including those in reader-favorite series Faces of Evil, the Colby Agency and the Shades of Death. With more than four million books sold in numerous languages and countries, Debra’s love of storytelling goes back to childhood on a farm in Alabama. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com (http://www.debrawebb.com).
Also by Debra Webb
Finding the EdgeDark WhispersStill WatersBridal ArmorReady, Aim...I Do!Colby LawHigh NoonColby Roundup
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Finding the Edge
Debra Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07886-3
FINDING THE EDGE
© 2018 Debra Webb
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to the outstanding men and women of the Chicago Police Department. Thanks for all you do!
Contents
Cover (#u45b056cb-0c74-567d-a171-81bd4fe54014)
Back Cover Text (#u21052a20-6431-5529-91aa-e44293734144)
About the Author (#u5d8ac37c-90a3-514e-ad3a-3db9f3666701)
Booklist (#ucf85ab7f-43fd-576f-a02d-b34f440cefad)
Title Page (#u8f812344-21d3-54f7-8de7-81c46bc2148a)
Copyright (#ubc6b86dd-9dcc-5442-ad9a-186a170106df)
Dedication (#ue8583c7b-a505-5324-9f4f-8666aaf154a8)
Chapter One (#u19c36503-e80d-5cde-a178-2ae56671ca48)
Chapter Two (#u45b061bb-9753-58cf-b43f-c8279a77fd3d)
Chapter Three (#uaee0f056-eb10-51a2-872d-69bc48307590)
Chapter Four (#u619a583f-5201-5c99-baf5-3b278aaccc00)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#uc162b7aa-c8af-540e-8dc2-b011e61824f0)
The Edge, Chicago Friday, May 4, 9:50 p.m.
“We’re going to need more gurneys!” Dr. Marissa Frasier shouted.
Someone amid the fray yelled that more gurneys were coming. They had nine new victims besides the dozen already in the ER. All bleeding, some worse than others. All had been shot and all were armed. And every damned one sported white T-shirts with an odd circle inside a circle in the center and wore black beanie caps. Their shouted threats echoed like thunder, inciting fear. Thank God most of the other patients had been checked in and were either already triaged and stable or had nonlife-threatening emergencies.
Eva Bowman might have considered it just another crazy Friday night looming toward a code black if not for the three cars that had screeched into the ER entrance with those new victims. Several armed men had barged in, waving automatic guns and demanding help for their friends. The three apparently in charge had forced everyone in the waiting room onto the floor and sent the entire ER staff, including the receptionist and the two registration specialists, outside to help their friends.
In all the commotion, Eva hoped someone had been able to alert the police. One of the security guards had been shot. He and the other guard had been restrained and left on the floor in the waiting room, blood pooling around the injured man. One of the gunmen stood over the small crowd, his scowl shifting from one to the other as if daring someone to give him a reason to start shooting. Eva wished she was more knowledgeable about the tattoos and colors worn by the different gangs in the Chicago area, though she couldn’t readily see how knowing would help at the moment. For now, she did what she was told and prayed help would arrive soon.
Eva pushed an occupied gurney through the double doors, leaving the lobby behind. All the treatment rooms were full so she found a spot in the corridor and parked. She ripped open the shirt of her patient. Male. Mid to late twenties. Hispanic. He was sweaty and breathing hard. He’d lost some blood from the bullet wound on his left side. Lucky for him the bullet appeared to have exited without much fanfare. Still, he was no doubt in serious pain. Whatever his pain level, he clutched his weapon and continued to bellow arrogantly at his friends as if a shot to the gut was an everyday occurrence. From what little she recalled of high school Spanish, he seemed to be claiming victory over whatever battle had occurred. If the group of wounded men who had been scattered on the asphalt in front of the ER doors were the winners, she hated to think what condition the losers were in. Didn’t take much of a stretch to imagine they were in all probability dead.
An experienced registered nurse, Eva performed a quick assessment of her patient’s vitals. Respiration and pulse were rapid. Though his skin was warm and moist, his color remained good. From all indications he was not critical, but there could be underlying issues she could not assess. He would need an ultrasound to ensure no organs were damaged, and the wound would need to be cleaned and sutured.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?”
The man stared at her as if she’d asked him to hand over his weapon. She decided to move on to her next question. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst you’ve ever suffered, can you tell me how much pain you’re in?”
“Cero.”
She sincerely doubted that was the case but if he wanted to play the tough guy, that was fine by her.
Over the next few minutes her patient as well as the others were sorted according to their needs and ushered on to the next level of care. Some were taken straight to operating rooms while others went on to imaging for additional assessment. One nurse and a doctor had been allowed to treat the patients in the lobby. Eva remained in the ER helping to attend to those who had arrived and were triaged and assigned treatment rooms before the gunmen arrived and took over. The armed patients who didn’t require further care were mostly loitering around the corridor waiting for the return of their friends who’d been sent off to imaging or to the OR. What they didn’t seem to realize was that those friends wouldn’t be coming back to join them tonight.
One of the other nurses had whispered to Eva that Dr. Frasier had initiated the emergency assistance protocol. The police had been made aware that the ER was under siege or under duress of some sort and required law enforcement intervention.
Once before she had found herself in a similar situation. Time was necessary for the police to arrive and assess the situation, then they would send in SWAT to contain the problem. She hoped no one else was hurt during the neutralization and containment of the gunmen. So far she had hidden three weapons. Two from patients who’d been rushed to the OR and one from the guy not a dozen feet away who claimed he was in zero pain. His pain had apparently been so nonexistent that he hadn’t realized his fingers had loosened on the 9 mm he’d been waving around when he first arrived.
Dr. Frasier noticed what Eva was up to and gave her a look of appreciation. No matter that she had removed and hidden three weapons—there were still six armed victims as well as the three armed and uninjured men who had taken over the ER. Thankfully, the thug who appeared to be the boss had allowed the injured guard to be treated for the bullet he’d taken. The guard’s injury was not life threatening. He and his partner for the night were now both locked in the supply room.
Eva glanced at her watch. Approximately ten seemingly endless minutes had elapsed since the police were notified of their situation via the emergency protocol. SWAT would be rolling in soon. She didn’t have to look outside to know that cops would have already taken crucial positions in the parking area.
All handheld radios and cell phones had been confiscated and tossed into a trash can—except for Eva’s. The only reason the pat down conducted by the shortest of the three jerks who’d taken over the ER hadn’t revealed her cell phone was because she didn’t carry it in her pocket or in an armband. Eva kept hers in an ankle band made just for cell phones. Her last boyfriend had been an undercover cop and he’d shown her all sorts of ways to hide weapons and phones. If she’d been smart she would have carried a stun gun strapped to her other ankle the way he suggested.
They might still be together if he had been able to separate his work from his personal life. It was one thing to pretend to be someone else to catch the bad guys but entirely another to take on a separate persona for the purposes of cheating on your girlfriend.
Apparently the guys playing king of the ER weren’t savvy enough to be aware that, like gun manufacturers, cell phone manufacturers thought of everything when it came to keeping phones close to users. Whatever the case, Eva was grateful her phone was still right where it was supposed to be. All she needed was an opportunity to use it. Knowing the situation inside would be incredibly useful for the police, particularly in determining how they made their grand entrance.
Her cell phone had vibrated about twenty times. Probably her sister, Lena. An investigative journalist at a local television station, Lena had no doubt heard about the trouble at the Edge. The best journalists had good contacts within Chicago PD and the Edge always had news. A Level I Trauma test unit challenging the approach to emergency medicine, the Edge was the only one of its kind in the nation.
Eva glanced toward the rear of the emergency department and the door that led into the main corridor that flowed into imaging and the surgery suite, winging off to the Behavioral Unit on the left and Administration to the right. Then she surveyed the ongoing activity between her and the double doors that opened into the lobby area. The man in charge and his cohorts were in deep conversation with the three other patients who hadn’t been moved on to another level of care. Dr. Frasier was suturing the wound of one while Dr. Reagan was doing the same with another. Kim Levy, a nurse and Eva’s friend, was bandaging the third patient’s closed wound.
Eva eased back a step and then another. Four more steps and she would be through the door and into the corridor beyond the emergency department. Slow, deep breaths. No sudden moves. Another step, then another, and she was out the door.
Eva whirled away from the softly closing door and ran to the ladies’ room. She couldn’t lock the door since it didn’t have one—no one wanted a patient to lock him or herself in the bathroom. Inside there were, however, two stalls with slide locks.
She slipped into the second one and snapped the stall latch into place, then sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled her knees to her chest so no one coming in would see her feet. She tugged her cell phone from its holster at her ankle and saw four missed calls and six text messages from her sister. She didn’t dare make a voice call so she sent a text to her sister and asked her to update the police on the situation inside the ER. Three uninjured gunmen. Four injured with guns, five others currently unarmed and in imaging or an OR. One injured guard. Both guards incapacitated.
A few seconds later, Lena told her to stay calm and to keep a low profile. Help was already on-site. Daring to relax the tiniest bit, Eva slid the phone back into its holster.
All she had to do was stay calm. Easy enough. She stepped off the seat.
The sound of the door opening sent fear exploding in her veins. She flushed the toilet, took a breath and exited the stall.
The man she thought to be in charge waited for her. He leaned against the door, the weapon in his hand lying flat against his chest. She decided that all the intruders were under thirty. This one looked to be early twenties. Though he appeared younger than the others, he was clearly the boss.
Eva steadied herself. “This is the ladies’ room.” She stared at him. “Baño femenino.”
He laughed. “Si.”
Oh crap. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward the door...toward him. “I need to be back out there helping your friends.”
He shook his head. “There is plenty help already.”
Eva swallowed back the scream mushrooming in her throat. There was no one to hear. This jerk was slightly taller than her five-seven. He was heavier and more muscled than her for sure, and a hell of a lot meaner. But she might be able to take him...if not for the gun.
As if he’d read her mind, he smiled and pointed the muzzle at her head. “On your knees, bitch.”
The shaking started so deep inside her that she wondered how she remained standing, yet somehow she did. “The police are coming.” The words shook, too, but she couldn’t keep her voice steady if her life depended on it. Right now the ability to continue breathing might very well depend on her next word or move. “If you’re smart, you’ll tell your friends and you’ll run. Now, while you still can.”
He nodded, that nasty grin still stretched across his lips. “Yes,” he agreed, the word sounding more like des with his thick accent.
Since he made no move to rush to his friends and warn them, her advice had clearly fallen on deaf ears. “So you don’t care if you get caught?” She shrugged. “You want to go to prison? Then you can be somebody’s bitch.”
He charged toward her, pinned her to the counter of the row of sinks behind her. Of their own volition, her hands shot up in surrender. “Just trying to help you out. You...you don’t want the police to show up and find you distracted. If you go now, they won’t catch you.”
She hoped like hell the guy had enough self-preservation instinct to realize she had a valid point.
“You talk a lot for a dead girl,” he growled as he jammed the muzzle against her temple now. “You give me some of that—” he slid his free hand down her belly, forcing it between her thighs “—with no trouble and I’ll be gone so fast you’ll still be begging for more.”
Trapped between him and the counter with his damned gun pointed at her brain, she couldn’t move, didn’t dare scream. Her heart flailed against her sternum. Stay calm. Your fear makes him stronger.
“Okay, okay.” This close she smelled the whiskey on his breath, could fully comprehend just how inebriated he was. Bleary eyes. Slurred speech. No wonder he wasn’t worried about the police. She drew in a shaky breath. Play along until you come up with a better plan. “What do you want?”
He laughed. “Suck me.”
She nodded as she slowly lowered her hands. The muzzle bored into her skull a little harder as she reached for his fly. He was fully erect, bulging against his jeans. Bile rose in her throat as she unfastened the button, then lowered the zipper. She told herself over and over she had no choice as she reached into his open fly. He didn’t have on any underwear so he was right there. She closed the fingers of her right hand around him while somehow managing to restrain the shudder of revulsion.
In hopes of putting off what he really wanted, her hand started to move. He made a satisfied sound, his eyes partially closing. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good start.”
She worked her hand back and forth faster and faster, felt his body tense. Watched his eyes drift completely shut.
Now or never.
Eva ducked her head, jammed her left shoulder into his gut and pushed with every ounce of her body weight. At the same time, she released his penis and grabbed his testicles and twisted as hard as she could.
He screamed.
The weapon discharged.
The mirror over the sinks shattered.
