Finishing the Job
I walkedinto Hollywood Presbyterian like I owned the place, with Wagner by my side. The bright lights were a contrast to the dimness of dusk outside. The smell of blood and alcohol made my stomach churn. I’d spent plenty of time in a VA hospital recovering from an Iraqi bullet that crashed through my ribs and pierced my lung.
I had been close to dying. If Dirk hadn’t drug me out of that shit hole house to the Humvee and gotten me to the Air Evac, I would have bled out in the scorching desert of Iraq.
I owed the man my life.
Now I had to kill him.
“Where did you get that morphine, Wagner?”
“I don’t reveal my sources.”
“Fair enough.”
Wagner had the thin, emaciated frame of a drug addict. Made sense since he was one.
He had been in our unit in Iraq, too. I probably owed my life to him as well, since he was the medic that kept me alive until they could airlift me to the emergency unit.
He had shaved, though, and put on a suit so he would pass for an employee of Baxter Enterprises. His face was sunken, though, and his cheekbones and chin poked out of his face like a Halloween mask. He basically looked like shit.
Before he let the drugs take over his life, he had worked for me. When he started showing up late, missing shifts, and being out of it on assignments, I had covered for him.
Drugs and the haunting memories of war had led to his end. In Iraq, too many men didn’t make it to the choppers and to the emergency units. Many died while he did his best to save them. Those memories were hard to forget.
Wagner had been too soft to shrug that off and live with himself. Every dying face haunted him.
Dirk had even paid for treatment, which worked for three months after he finished. When a client was hurt after Wagner crashed a vehicle into a tree and was obviously stoned out of his mind, even Dirk had to face reality and cut him loose.
Dirk was probably the most loyal guy I knew. He was a capable officer, too. As my lieutenant in Iraq, not only did he survive, he had earned the respect of his men. Including me. I had been his master sergeant there, and he’d hired me for a security detail when he took over Baxter Security.
I still respected him, but my love for Scarlet outweighed any loyalty I had for him.
We entered the elevator and pushed the button to Dirk’s floor. He was still in the ICU but had a private room. One guard from his security team would be outside his door, but being the Head of Security meant I would have no problem getting in.
As we walked down the hallway passing nurses, orderlies, and the occasional doctor, I tried to slow my heartbeat and calm my breathing. I felt like I was walking into a firefight.
Heightened heart rate. Adrenaline rush. Chest tightening. That knot in my stomach. I was sure my eyes were dilating, ready to take in as much of my surroundings as possible.
The plan was simple. We would walk into Dirk’s room, make sure we were alone, and then Wagner would give Dirk enough morphine to kill him.
The hospital would have a lot of explaining to do. Dirk would be dead. We would kill the doctor. Then Scarlet would inherit a shitload of money and marry me.
Simple Plan. Certain Results. Focus on the Target.
Dirk’s mantra before every detail, every assignment, every mission, had always been the same. It had worked well for our unit most of the time. When it didn’t, he always seemed to get us out of dangerous situations. He was a hell of an LT.
The knot in my stomach tightened even more as we neared the door. Roberts was on duty, and he gave me a nod as we approached.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey, Roberts. How’s he doing?”
“Still unconscious. Has been since they brought him in.”
“How bad is he?”
“Not bad, really. I think Taylor had it worse when that mortar shell almost landed on his ass.”
