When the other women emerged from the bathroom, Tony said, “Ladies, I’d like you to move directly into the limo once you’re outside, please.” He went out first, paused as he opened the door, and waved them out.
A half block down the street, a tall, thin man wearing too-big pants and an oversized black hoodie with the hood up skulked in a circle, his arms waving and his body gesticulating like he was having an argument. From this distance, Becca couldn’t make out the man’s face, but she couldn’t deny the relief she felt at the fact that the man was way too thin to be Woodson, who’d been bulky and muscular. Not that she should be worrying about Woodson. Nick’s research today really had made her feel a lot better.
Kat bustled Becca into the limo, then climbed in after. As the other women got in, Becca could just make out the man shouting.
“You think you so fucking better than me!” he yelled, his voice full of drunken slur. “Well, you not! You not! And I’m gonna show you! I’m gonna show you!”
The minute Emilie was in, Tony had the door secured behind them, cutting off the rest of the tirade. Almost immediately, the engine started and the Hummer eased away from the curb.
“Please don’t let that tarnish your night,” Kat said.
Becca smiled. “Not at all. Nothing could tarnish this night. It was fantastic. Perfect. One of the best ever.” She meant it, too. And the whipped cream on her cake? In just a few minutes, it would be midnight. And that meant in just one week, Becca was going to be married to the love of her life.
And absolutely nothing could ruin the amazing miracle of that.
CHAPTER 9
Nick,” Chen said when he called on Wednesday morning. “I’ve got bad news.”
“Shit, what is it?” Nick asked. When a guy like Chen said he had bad news, you knew it was bad.
From the driver’s seat of his truck, Shane frowned, his expression full of questions. He parked the truck in front of the dry cleaner. They’d dropped Becca off at work a half hour before and were picking up their uniforms for the wedding.
“Woodson’s in Baltimore. Has been for at least a week, maybe longer.”
Nick’s gut dropped to the floor, his mind racing. A week? That meant he’d been in town long enough to be responsible for the stuffed animal, for Becca’s feeling of being watched at the mall, and maybe even for some of her sightings that they’d thought were impossible and chalked up to her PTSD. “Goddamnit. Are you sure? How do you know?”
“I put a guy on the ground in South Carolina. He learned from some locals that Woodson had left town and traded vehicles with his uncle. I managed to track the uncle’s truck to a rest stop near Richmond, where another car had been reported stolen. That car was found abandoned in Baltimore County last week, which we just put together. Otherwise, the guy’s been way off the grid. No credit cards. No known vehicles. I have two undercover agents in the city looking for him from within the gang scene. As soon as we locate him, we’ll grab him.”
“Fuck,” Nick said, the weight of this new development crushing in on him. “Thanks for letting me know. Keep me posted.” They hung up. “Head back to the hospital. Now,” Nick said.
Shane had the truck in reverse and barreling out of the parking lot immediately. “Talk to me.”
“Woodson’s in town. Has been for over a week. We got fucking outfoxed.” Nick dialed Becca. It went to voice mail. “Please call me as soon as you get this, Becca.” Ice sloshed into his gut as Nick filled Shane in.
“No one stays off the grid like that unless they fear they’re being hunted. Or they don’t want to be noticed,” Shane said, running the tail end of a yellow light.
Nick appreciated the hell out of his friend’s aggressive driving. He really did. “Given the situation in the city, it’s probably some of both in this case. But I’m a helluva lot more worried about the latter.”
“Roger that,” Shane said, darting around other cars as much as he could.
Nick tried Becca’s cell again. Voice mail. Damnit. He was about ready to crawl out of his skin. Flipping through the contacts on his phone, he found the number for Barry Coleman at the hospital.
“Mr. Coleman, this is Nick Rixey, Becca Merritt’s fiancé,” Nick said, his knee bouncing as he scanned his gaze over the street as it flew by.
“Nick, what can I do for you?”
“I need you to find Becca and keep an eye on her until I get there. She’s not answering her cell, but I know she might be with a patient. I just got word that Tyrell Woodson is back in town and has been for more than a week. Since we still don’t know who pulled the stunt with the stuffed animal, I’d feel better if Becca left early today until we get to the bottom of this and know what Woodson’s up to. It seems he took some pains to get back into the city unnoticed.”
“I wish I had your connections for intel,” Coleman said.
“Yeah, well I wish I didn’t need them.”
“I hear you,” the other man said. “I’ll find Becca and stay with her until you get here.” They hung up.
In another five minutes, Nick and Shane made it back to the hospital. Nick barely waited for Shane to bring the truck to a stop before he was opening the door. “Pick us up near the ER entrance. It’s more sheltered.”
“You got it,” Shane said.
Nick rushed across the plaza to the main entrance, his gaze scanning the streetscape, the crowd, the sea of faces. He let his guard down for five goddamned seconds, and this was what happened. Becca, potentially exposed to danger and completely unaware.
Inside, he made his way to Coleman’s office. Relief flooded through him.
Becca. Sitting across from Coleman at his desk. Her face was a shade too pale, but otherwise she was safe, sound, a fucking sight for sore eyes.
“Nick,” she said, rising as soon as she saw him. “He’s back?”
Nick cupped her face in his hands. “Yes, but Chen’s on it. Woodson won’t be free for long. Don’t worry, okay?”
She gave him a doubtful look that was like a knife to the gut.
Nick turned to Coleman. “Thanks for your help.” They shook hands.
“Anything else you need, you just let me know,” the man said.
Taking Becca’s hand in his, Nick led her to the main ER entrance, keeping back from the glass until he saw Shane’s big black truck pull into the drop-off lane. “That’s our ride. Come on.”
They jogged toward the truck, Nick’s gaze doing a constant scanning circuit as they moved. He got Becca into the truck’s backseat, shut her door, and moved to his own—which was when his eye caught it. A glint of morning sun off metal. There at the corner of the building.
Nick opened the passenger door just in time, the report of the gunfire reaching his ears only a second before the round pinged off the door. Close. Too damn close. He dove into the cab. “Go, go!”