Page 12

Roughly two hours later…

R eal slammed through the emergency room doors of UCLA Medical Center and stalked toward the desk.

They had been halfway back to Santa Barbara when the call came in to Dave, who was listed as the emergency contact for Apollo and Cash.

Stone prowled at his side, and when they reached the desk, Stone flipped out his badge. It was an official US Marshals badge that Stone carried on him. Not that the man was a marshal, but he knew people in high places. Plus, having a badge helped them with any bullshit red tape.

“We are here about two patients,” Stone said.

The woman behind the desk eyed him like he was crazy.

“Don’t make me call the Secretary of Defense,” Stone said through his teeth.

She gasped, pressed a hand to her chest, and was just about to speak when security guards came rushing in.

The lead guard spoke with a hand up. “US Marshals Stone and Real?” the lead guard said, approaching. “I’m Smitty. Per orders, I’m to take you to Cash.”

Stone stalked toward the man, who turned and flipped a badge at the doors and led them into the bowels of the ER.

“Talk to me right the fuck now,” Real ordered, flanking the guard.

“All I know is that two college boys were brought in by air ambulance. One with a gunshot to the abdomen, the other with cuts and bruises and a head laceration,” Smitty said. “Dr. Hanson can fill you in on more.”

Smitty reached a room, and Real stepped inside, followed closely by Stone.

Cash lay in a bed with a hospital sheet pulled up to his chest. The boy’s face was pale and one side swollen.

“Hello, are you family?”

“Yes,” Real told the doctor whose badge identified her as Dr. Hanson.

She looked at the chart and went over the injuries.

“Cash has a slight jaw fracture, concussion, and a cracked rib. As for Apollo, he went into surgery for a gunshot wound to the abdomen the minute he arrived.” Dr. Hanson glanced at her watch.

“That was around 2 PM. I don’t have any news at the moment. ”

“Find some,” Real turned on the woman.

She glared at his tone of voice, but he didn’t give two shits about that nor her.

He needed fucking answers before he called Azrael.

“I need to know the chances of Apollo’s survival asap,” Real snarled at Dr. Hanson and saw her throat move with a hard swallow.

“I don’t think we need to remind you that the Secretary of Defense called earlier. These two boys are very important to him,” Stone reminded the doctor.

“Give me a few minutes,” Dr. Hanson said and left the room.

Real approached the bed and gazed down at Cash. The boy was a former assassin who had wanted nothing more than to lead a normal life with his boyfriend and attend college together.

“Cash,” he murmured, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides.

Stone was on the phone, and after several minutes, he hung up.

“That was the campus police. A gunman entered the room around 12:30 this afternoon.”

“That was about half an hour after we dropped them off.” Real fisted his hands.

“Apollo was shot at close range. Their roommate, Jess, was killed instantly with a bullet to the head. Cash got the drop on the guy, and one of the campus policemen was shot and killed after entering the room to help.”

“Fuck.” Real placed both palms to his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Before he passed out, Cash told the campus police the gunman asked for you by name.”

“I have no fucking clue why.” Real rubbed his hands down his face.

“According to the police, the gunman made a mistake and turned his back on Cash. I don’t think he knows Cash’s background,” Stone said.

“Maybe…but why else was the guy there looking for me?” Real shook his head.

“We don’t know. According to Cash, the asshole walked in, killed Jess and shot Apollo, then handed the phone to Cash to call you.”

“Motherfucker. I never got the call.” Real squeezed his hands into fists.

Stone walked over and took out Cash’s phone that was inside a plastic bag along with his keys and wallet.

“He dialed the wrong number. Two digits off,” Stone said.

Real took the last step that would take him closer to Cash. He gripped the boy’s ankle through the sheet.

“He was trying to protect me,” he murmured.

“Call Azrael. If Apollo dies and he’s not here, that’s not right,” Stone said, tucking Cash’s phone away.

“I know.”

And although he didn’t have any further information on Apollo, Real knew he needed to call Azrael now.

He turned away from Cash and gazed out the window. Right now, Azrael should be back in the house located close to Angeles National Forest.

That wasn’t too far from UCLA Medical Center.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

It went straight to voicemail.

Of course it did. There was no way in hell Azrael wanted to speak with him.

Fuck. Real turned to Stone.

“Call him from your phone.”

Stone gave him a weird look, but dialed Azrael’s number and handed him the phone.

“What’s up, Stone?” Azrael said.

“It’s Real. Don’t hang up.”

“What the hell do you want?” Azrael’s voice sounded tight…and wounded.

“Is Boston or Beck with you?”

“Yes.”

Good, no way did he want Azrael alone when he heard the news.

“Do you want to talk to either of them?” Azrael asked tightly.

“No…listen.” Real swallowed hard. “It’s Apollo. He’s been shot.”

Later, Real shot up from his chair when Cash stirred in the bed.

“Cash,” Real murmured, holding the young man’s hand.

“Real,” Cash croaked, turning his head weakly, his eyes glazed. “Where’s Apollo?”

“He’s fine,” Real lied through his teeth.

The last thing that Cash needed was more stress. There wasn’t a damned thing they could do about Apollo until he got out of surgery. Which was taking a lot longer than the doctors had planned. Apparently, the bullet had shattered into several pieces.

The ongoing surgery was already reaching the second hour mark.

“You can see him after you rest,” Real assured the young man.

“The gunman…seemed familiar.”

Real had to lean closer to hear the hoarsely whispered words cutting in and out.

“Did you know him?” Real asked, keeping his voice low and soothing.

“No.” Cash groaned and closed his eyes.

“You got a good look at him, though, yes?” Real said.

Cash blinked open his eyes and stared at him. Then frowned. The confusion in the man’s eyes was clear to see.

“Maybe I knew him…His face is…gone,” Cash whispered.

The blank spots were from trauma after being bludgeoned by the butt of a handgun. Real had seen the signs before. Hell, he’d experienced it a time or two himself.

“Don’t worry about it, just relax. The campus has security cameras. I’m sure he’s on video,” Real assured Cash, and the boy closed his eyes.

Real turned to Stone, and unspoken, they both stepped out into the hallway and slightly pulled Cash’s door closed, leaving it open in case the boy called out.

They found Dave along with Winter and Rip sitting in hard plastic chairs that lined the hallway.

All three men stood when they walked out.

“How is he?” Dave asked.

“He’s got a major concussion,” Stone said. Placing a hand on Dave’s shoulder, Stone gave a gentle squeeze.

“What the hell is going on? You say that someone is looking for you?” Winter turned on Real.

“The gunman went there looking for me. Me and Stone dropped Apollo and Cash back at Pepperdine this afternoon.” Real didn’t need to glance at his watch.

The shooting had taken place a little after noon. Apollo had gone into surgery a little after 2 PM. It was now 3:45 PM.

The call to Azrael had been roughly an hour and a half ago. The distance between the Angeles National Forest and UCLA Medical Center could vary depending on the traffic. Either way, it could take Azrael between one to two hours or more to get here.

“Real!”

He closed his eyes when Azrael loudly called his name.

Spinning toward the young assassin’s voice, he saw Azrael standing at the end of the hospital hallway that led to the waiting room.

Without another word, Azrael raced toward him. Boston, Beck, and Rebel raced behind, following quickly.

And so help him God, Real tried not to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself, he opened his arms.

He caught Azrael when the younger man launched into his arms.

Holding Azrael’s slender form against him, Real bent his head and breathed in the slight scent of soap.

Those watching the pair smiled with indulgence at how tenderly the bigger man held onto the slighter young man.