Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO COULDN’T AFFORD TO DIE
Dominic washed his hands.
Not quickly. Not casually.
He scrubbed beneath every fingernail while Laya watched him with the cold concentration of a surgeon who had been forced to operate inside a nightmare.
“Again,” she said.
Dominic looked at her.
“You heard me.”
For the first time since he had broken into her apartment, the scarred man seemed almost offended.
Then Gabriel coughed.
It was a small sound, but every person in the room froze.
Laya turned toward the bed.
Gabriel’s eyes were half-open. His breathing had become shallow and rapid, and sweat darkened the hair at his temples. The monitor showed numbers that were moving in the wrong direction.
“Start another bag of fluids,” Laya ordered. “And get me a blood culture kit.”
Dominic moved immediately.
That frightened her more than his earlier threats.
Men like Dominic did not obey doctors. They obeyed Gabriel.
And Gabriel Mercer was lying pale and shaking beneath a hospital blanket, looking suddenly less like the untouchable king of Chicago and more like a man whose body had decided it was finished negotiating.
Laya lifted the dressing.
The wound was angry.
The skin around it had turned a deep, spreading red. A thin line of cloudy drainage had appeared beneath the edge of the packing.
“Damn it.”
Gabriel opened his eyes.
“Bad?”
“You want the truth?”
“I always want the truth.”
“You have a serious infection. Your blood pressure is too low, your heart rate is too high, and I don't know whether there is an injury inside your abdomen that I couldn't see at the hospital.”
He stared at her.
“Can you fix it?”
“Maybe.”
The answer made Dominic look up.
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“That's not the answer I expected.”
“You kidnapped me. You don't get comforting answers.”
A shadow of amusement crossed his face.
Then his expression changed.
Pain seized him so violently that his fingers curled into the sheets.
Laya caught his shoulder.
“Gabriel.”
He tried to breathe through it.
She looked at the monitor.
“His pressure is dropping.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
“It means if you want him alive, stop asking questions and start helping me.”
The younger guard moved to the cabinet.
Laya pointed.
“More saline. The sterile drapes. And bring me the ultrasound.”
The room became a controlled storm.
Laya worked.
She inserted another IV line, drew blood, checked his lungs, listened to his abdomen, and ran the portable ultrasound over his stomach. The image was grainy, but she could see enough to make her stomach tighten.
“There’s fluid.”
Dominic went still.
“What kind?”
“I don't know yet.”
Gabriel turned his head.
“Blood?”
“Possibly.”
“Then operate.”
Laya stared at him.
“With what?”
His eyes met hers.
“You have everything.”
“No. I have enough to keep you from dying in the next thirty minutes. That's different.”
Silence.
Then Gabriel said, “Tell me what you need.”
“A real operating room.”
“You have one.”
“Not here.”
“Yes, here.”
Laya looked at Dominic.
He didn't deny it.
“Of course,” she whispered.
The mansion wasn't simply prepared for violence.
It was prepared for war.
She forced herself to focus.
“Then I need to see it.”
They moved Gabriel down the hidden corridor. The medical wing extended farther than she had realized, behind another locked door that opened into a surgical suite. It was smaller than a major hospital operating room but sophisticated enough to make her uneasy.
Someone had spent millions creating this place.
Someone had expected people to get shot.
Frequently.
Laya stared at the anesthesia machine, the surgical lights, the instrument trays, the suction equipment.
“This is insane.”
Gabriel managed a weak laugh.
“Welcome to my house.”
“You call this a house?”
“I call it insurance.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the monitor screamed.
Gabriel's pressure collapsed.
“Move!”
Laya and Dominic transferred him to the operating table.
“Get anesthesia.”
The younger guard hesitated.
“We don't have—”
“I don't care what you have. Find someone qualified.”
Gabriel reached for Laya's wrist.
His grip was weak now.
“Don't let them put me under until you know who's loyal.”
She frowned.
“I'm not playing detective during surgery.”
“You are if you want to leave this house alive.”
The words landed between them.
For one second, she saw the man behind the reputation.
Not the crime boss.
Not the wealthy kingmaker.
A man who knew someone close to him wanted him dead.
And suddenly she understood why he had chosen her.
She was the only person in the room he believed had no reason to betray him.
Laya pulled her wrist free.
“Then stay alive long enough to tell me who you're afraid of.”
His eyes remained on hers.
“That's exactly what I intend to do.”
The doors opened.
A woman in navy scrubs entered carrying an anesthesia bag.
She was perhaps forty-five, composed and severe.
“Dr. Hastings?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Dr. Miriam Vale.”
Laya's instincts immediately tightened.
“You work for Gabriel?”
“I have worked for his family for fourteen years.”
Gabriel's eyes narrowed.
“Miriam.”
The woman looked at him.
“I came as soon as Dominic called.”
Laya watched them.
There was history there.
Not friendship.
Not exactly.
Something older.
Miriam approached the table.
“Gabriel, you shouldn't be conscious.”
“He has a point,” Laya said.
Miriam looked at her.
“Then put him under.”
Laya didn't move.
Something about the woman's calmness bothered her.
She looked at Gabriel.
He gave the smallest shake of his head.
No.
Laya understood.
She stepped between them.
“We're going to do this my way.”
Miriam's expression hardened.
“You are in no position to give orders.”
“I am the only physician in this room who has examined him from the moment he was shot.”
“And I have treated Gabriel since he was twenty-two.”
“Then you know he is dying.”
The room went silent.
Miriam stared at Laya.
Then she smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
“No,” she said softly. “I know exactly how difficult it is to kill Gabriel Mercer.”
Laya felt a chill move down her spine.
Before she could answer, the surgical monitor flashed red.
Gabriel's heart rhythm changed.
“Pressure!”
“Forty systolic.”
Laya moved.
“Now.”
Everyone obeyed.
But as she leaned over Gabriel, she noticed something.
A tiny puncture mark on his neck.
Not from an IV.
Not from a monitor.
A needle mark.
Laya froze.
“Who gave him an injection?”
Nobody answered.
She looked at Dominic.
Then Miriam.
Then the younger guard.
Gabriel's eyes opened.
For the first time, real fear appeared in them.
He whispered one word.
“Inside.”
Laya looked toward the closed operating-room doors.
Someone was already inside the house.
Someone who had gotten close enough to poison Gabriel.
And whoever it was had just realized that Laya had noticed.
Laya felt the room change before anyone spoke.
Gabriel had noticed it too.
His eyes moved toward the closed operating-room doors.
“Dominic,” he said.
The scarred man stepped closer.
“What?”
“Count the guards.”
Dominic listened to the radio traffic.
His expression hardened.
“We're missing two.”
Laya's stomach tightened.
“Missing?”
“No response.”
“Then find them.”
Dominic reached for the radio.
Static answered.
Gabriel looked at Laya.
“Stay beside me.”
“I'd rather stay beside the patient.”
“You're standing beside the patient.”
“That wasn't permission for you to be sarcastic.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The surgical monitor rebooted.
Laya watched the screen.
The heart rate disappeared.
The blood pressure disappeared.
For three seconds, Gabriel Mercer had no vital signs.
Then the numbers returned.
Laya immediately checked his pulse.
“It's fine.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“You looked scared.”
“I was.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you died.”
He was silent.
Something passed between them that neither acknowledged.
Then Dominic's radio crackled.
“Someone is in the west hall.”
“How many?” Gabriel asked.
“One.”
“Who?”
The answer came after a pause.
“We don't know.”
Gabriel's face became expressionless.
“Lock every interior door.”
Dominic moved.
Laya looked at the surgical tray.
A small glass ampoule sat beside the discarded instruments.
She picked it up.
The label had been torn away.
Only a hospital inventory code remained.
She recognized the format.
“That's Mercy inventory.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I've signed for those medications.”
His eyes hardened.
“So the person who injected me came from the hospital.”
“Or stole supplies from it.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
Laya held the ampoule up to the light.
“There is a difference.”
“What?”
“If someone from Mercy did this, they knew exactly what dose would make you look septic instead of poisoned.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they didn't just want you dead.”
She lowered the ampoule.
“They wanted everyone to believe your death was caused by the gunshot.”
Dominic returned.
“What did you find?”
Laya showed him the ampoule.
His jaw tightened.
Gabriel said, “Find out who had access.”
Dominic nodded.
Then the hallway lights went dark.
A soft mechanical click came from the other side of the operating-room door.
Someone had just unlocked it.
Laya backed toward Gabriel.
He reached for her hand.
Not possessively.
Not as an order.
As a warning.
May you like
“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “stay behind me.”
The door began to open.
