But the wanting was there, loud and undeniable under his ribs.
Rafe let the door swing shut behind them, amusement already climbing across his face.
Brian snapped, “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it loud enough.”
“Hell yeah, I am.” Rafe chuckled under his breath. “She looks at you like she hasn’t decided whether to ignore you... or not. And you’re looking at her like you hope she doesn’t.”
Brian grunted, annoyed that the words landed true.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He glared at his partner. “You wanna talk about you and Suki?”
Rafe pushed open the door to the parking lot. “Nope.”
“Same.”
The drive to Elizabeth City Memorial Hospital was short. Noises around him didn’t register—the drone of the tires, the chatter on the radio between dispatch and the patrol units, or Rafe’s phone conversation with a detective from the local police department who was also on the task force. His thoughts stayed snagged on Tess—her steady hands, the way her gazehad caught his and held just a fraction too long, and that faint flush he’d swear hadn’t come from the overhead lights.
He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to shake it. He didn’t need a distraction right then—just answers to solve the case and hopefully shut down the Devil’s Crew for good.
The hospital’s façade gleamed sterile white under a washed-out morning sun. Inside, the corridors had the same antiseptic sting he knew from the morgue. Only the undertones were different—burnt coffee, overheated machinery, and the sour trace of fresh body fluids instead of death and decay.
They flashed their shields at the guards at the reception desk before heading toward the elevators. Brian pressed the button, and they rode to the third floor in tense silence, the car humming around them. When the doors opened, a Dare County police officer whom neither of them recognized stood sentry at the entrance to the surgical recovery wing. He nodded when they showed him their IDs. Thankfully, when they reached the guarded room where the surviving gang-banger was recovering from surgery, the officer stationed there was one they knew.
“Hey. Long time, no see.” He shook their hands. “The kid’s been uncooperative. Hasn’t said two words to anyone but the nurse.”
“Family?” Brian asked.
“His mother and younger sister were here, but theyleft after he woke up. Mother had to go to work. A bunch of his buddies were here while he was in surgery, but got kicked out after causing some problems in the waiting room.”
“Until he gets released, no one but staff and immediate family goes in. I don’t care if the pope or Jesus Christ himself shows up. The last thing we need is his gang coaching him on what story to give us, or someone else coming to silence him. Check everyone’s IDs.”
The officer nodded. “Got it.”
Brian pushed the door open.
The room was dim, with the shades half-drawn. In the bed lay a wiry young man with close-cropped hair and a thick, white bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He was connected to several monitors, and an IV drip was running, probably with some good pain meds. However, his suspicious eyes sharpened and tracked them immediately. Anger lived there, coiled and waiting. He wasn’t happy to see them—too damn bad.
“Jayden Cruz,” Brian said, unnecessarily checking the file. He already had the guy’s name and age memorized. “Eighteen. You’re a lucky man. Unlike your buddy.”
Jayden gave a short snort, mouth twisting. “Guess luck ran out for Malik.”
“That it did,” Brian said evenly. He strode across the room, rested his ass on the windowsill, and crossed his arms. “You don’t seem too broken up about it.”
The guy shrugged, then winced. “Never cared forthe guy. Only reason we let him hang was his cousin’s cool.”
“You want to tell us who pulled the trigger?”
Jayden’s gaze shifted to the muted TV, a sitcom rerun playing on the screen. “Don’t talk to pigs.”
Rafe leaned against the wall, his arms folded and his tone mild. “Funny thing about pigs? We’re the ones keeping the guys who shot you from showing up to finish the job.”
“Didn’t see who it was,” Jayden muttered.
