Silence from the phone. Everywhere else was mayhem.
There was nothing he could do. He was a sitting duck in here. He ran to the door and pounded. “Let me out of here. Let me the fuck out.”
No answer from the other side. None from Tyler either when he redialed. Minutes passed, and the fighting continued.
Was that his team out there, forcing their way in? Christ, he hoped so.
The yelling drew closer, and his adrenaline ramped back up. He searched the room for something, anything, to fight with, and came up empty-handed.
When the door flew open to show Handles standing there, pointing that fucking Glock at his face, the only thing he could do was turn and dive.
Too late, though. Too fucking late.
The first bullet tore into his back, pinning him to the bed, and Clay Navarro was a dead man.
OceanofPDF.com
2
Five months later
The door to the clinic stood wide open, inviting in a way Clay didn’t entirely trust. It had all been too easy—the drive into town, locating the place, finding a parking space right out front. The few people he’d encountered on the sidewalk had been friendly, smiles so wide and open Clay developed an uncomfortable itch at the back of his neck—like the buildings were a facade and everybody actors, and he was the only one who wasn’t in on it.
He was right not to trust, he decided when he reached the door, only to find a hand-written sign taped to the door. It read: CLOSED—NO A/C.
Dead end.
Yeah, well—not good enough. They’d need a roadblock to keep him out at this point. He tried the door and found it open.
Inside, the place was dark and stifling. There was a reception area, waiting room—what you’d expect from a doctor’s office—all empty. He waited for his eyes to adjust and listened to what sounded like the scratch of pen on paper. He cleared his throat, and the woman hidden behind the reception desk jumped up like a jack-in-the-box.
“Afternoon,” he said and walked farther inside, still squinting against the dark interior.
“Hi there,” the woman said, her voice bright and warm. “Sorry to say we’re closed. A/C’s out, and we can’t see patients in this heat.”
“You the doc?”
She hesitated, looked to the side as if searching for reinforcements, then faced him head-on again. “I am.”
“Any chance you could help me out?” He made his voice as light as possible, trying for friendly, even though it never seemed to work.
“Do you have an appointment? Cindy was supposed to call everyone and—”
He sighed. “No appointment. I hear you’re the only place around that does what I need.”
“Oh.” She blinked, big eyes roving curiously over him from beneath blond hair that looked darker along her forehead. From sweat, he realized, before letting his gaze travel down the rest of her—not a large woman, but curvy in a way that he liked. Something about the heat, her flushed face, the way the fabric of her tank top clung to her belly, and her hair stuck to her slick neck woke him up. She swallowed, her vibe slightly nervous. That was no surprise, since he knew exactly how he looked: mirrored glasses; long-sleeved shirt; short, dark hair; ink creeping up the back of his neck. Staring at her like some goddamned creep.
“I don’t mind the heat,” he said, taking a step back. See how nonthreatening I am?
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll pay.”
“Cindy takes care of paperwork and invoicing, insurance and all that. I’m just not equipped to—”
“Could you just take a look, Doc? Please?” he cut in, unable to keep the emotion out. “I could use your help.”
She hesitated another beat, then softened. “What do you need looked at?” she asked, voice gentler. Warmer.
