Page 3

2

“The Omega Killer has struck again.”

Dr. Kerrigan Rawlins slid her gaze up to the T.V. mounted high on the hospital cafeteria wall. She listened closely to the breaking news story that had just interrupted a pre-season baseball game she hadn’t been watching.

Her gut tightened as the pretty bottle-blonde news anchor shared what her and her people had learned.

“The body of a woman was discovered early this morning under the Amtrak South Branch Bridge. The victim has been identified by authorities as that of thirty-one-year-old Crystal DeWalt, an attorney who was an employee of local law firm Smith, Howard, and Young. According to authorities, two young men stumbled upon the gruesome scene while walking along the banks of the South Branch Chicago River. They called into nine-one-one, and emergency responders were immediately dispatched to their location.”

“Jesus, another one?”

Kerrigan glanced away from the T.V. to see her closest friend and colleague had just set her lunch tray in front of one of three empty chairs at the small, square table.

She watched and waited as Gemma Marino chose the chair to Kerrigan’s right. In keeping with her typical at-work look, the other woman’s chin-length, dark brown hair had been pulled back into a short, low ponytail.

“Hey.” She smiled sadly before answering. “Apparently, the body was found early this morning, but this is the first I’ve heard of it. It sounds like the asshole dumped her just south of Ping Tom Memorial Park.”

The thought sent a rush of chills running down Kerrigan’s spine. Ping Tom was a mere five miles north of the University of Chicago Emergency Department and Trauma Center, where both women currently worked.

“Damn.” Gemma plopped herself down onto the hard plastic chair. Facing the T.V., the beautiful brunette grabbed a fry from her plate and dropped it into her mouth. “How many is that now? Four?”

“Five.” Kerrigan’s shoulders fell at the thought.

Five innocent lives viciously stolen by a sociopathic murderer. All late twenties to early thirties. All pretty. And they’d all died a horrible death they didn’t deserve.

She recalled the news stories from six months ago covering the discovery of the first victim. From there, the killings were spaced out almost evenly with a full month passing from one to the next. But this one…

“He’s killing them even faster than before,” she noted aloud, returning her attention to the elevated flatscreen. “This time was a few days shy of a month.”

Both she and Gemma listened closely to the additional information being shared.

“A source within the CPD confirmed Miss DeWalt’s remains were found much like the killer’s previous four victims,” the anchorwoman informed her viewers. “She was nude, left out in the open, and there were numerous stab wounds and cuts along her body. Like the killer’s previous victims, this one reportedly also had the Greek symbol for Omega carved into her skin.”

Gemma shook her head in disgust, taking a bite of her grilled chicken sandwich. Using one hand to cover her half-filled mouth, she began talking again before she’d finished chewing.

“This guy’s seriously sick.” She swallowed the bite. “If you ask me, when the police finally do catch the son of a bitch, they should save taxpayer money and dole out the same sort of pain and torture he’d inflicted on those poor women.”

“Gemma!” Kerrigan arched both brows.

“What?” Her friend lifted her bottle of diet soda to her full lips while giving an unapologetic shrug. Gemma’s expression turned incredulous as she set the bottle back down onto the tray. “Oh, come on. Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you wouldn’t secretly love it if his was the next body to turn up all sliced and diced?”

The question gave her pause. An eye for an eye had never been Kerrigan’s outlook on justice. Not when her entire career was built on her oath to do no harm.

But after she and her fellow medical volunteers were taken hostage in Mexico several months earlier…after the extremists killed innocent colleagues, a patient, and burned down the small clinic where she’d been working…her black-and-white thoughts on what real justice looked like was admittedly blurred.

For some criminals, prison was a punishment befitting the crime. The guy running around torturing and then murdering beautiful young women just for fun, however…

Maybe Gemma has a point.

Perhaps monsters like the man responsible for the recent carnage did deserve a fate much worse than prison. The families of the victims would most likely agree.

“Several sources within the firm stated DeWalt was a highly respected attorney within the firm, as well as the Chicago legal community, and was well on her way to becoming a name partner. She is survived by her parents and an older brother, also of Chicago. We’ll continue following this story, bringing you the most up-to-date information as it comes in.”

Within seconds, the baseball game was back on the screen, the players, coaches, and crowd oblivious to the unscheduled interruption.

“I wonder if the cops have any leads,” Gemma pondered.

“If they do, they’re keeping that information to themselves.”

The two women grew quiet, finishing their meals in relative silence. With almost two decades of emergency medicine between them, they both understood how precious it was finding a moment’s peace to eat an actual meal.

When her friend spoke up again, Kerrigan expected her to give another unsolicited comment about the city’s infamous serial killer. Instead, her friend switched to an entirely different topic.

“So.” Gemma wiped her mouth before dropping the disposable napkin onto her empty plate. “You ever going to tell me about your date with Dr. Warner?”

Damn. Her gut tightened with dread because she’d really, really hoped to avoid this conversation. But since the woman asked…

“Don’t you mean ‘Dr. Love ’?” She shot the other woman a look. “Did you know that’s what they call him when you set the two of us up?” The look on Gemma’s face was a dead giveaway. “Oh, my god!” Kerrigan leaned in closer, lowering her voice to keep from causing a scene. “You did, didn’t you?”

“It’s just a nickname, Kerrigan.”

“A nickname that the man apparently earned by sleeping his way through half the employee directory.”

“At least it was just the female half,” Gemma teased. But when Kerrigan didn’t so much as smile, the well-meaning nurse said, “Okay, fine. So maybe Martin likes to spread the love a little too much. But so what? You said yourself, you’re not looking for anything serious.”

“That doesn’t mean I want my name added to the list of women in this hospital who’ve been more than willing to spread their… love for the man.”

Gemma’s hand flew to her mouth to keep the soda she’d just sipped from flying out all over the table. “I don’t know which is funnier.” She coughed. “The fact that you just said that, or that you sounded dead serious.”

“I am serious. An occasional date is one thing, but one-night stands have never been my jam, and after what happened with Brayden, I just don’t think I’m ready for serious.”

Dr. Brayden Walsh was another E.R. doctor at their hospital. He was also Kerrigan’s ex.

Catching your boyfriend in bed with another woman could do that to a girl.

“Fine.” Gemma sighed. “I will refrain from arranging any and all future blind dates?—”

“Thank you.”

“—on one condition.”

I should have known.

“What’s that?”

“You have to call him.”

She looked at her friend as if the woman had just grown three heads. “Who? Dr. Love or Brayden? Actually, it doesn’t matter because I have no intentions of ever calling either one of them?—”

“Not those two jackasses.” Gemma rolled her pretty eyes. “I’m talking about him .”

It took Kerrigan a moment to understand which him her friend was referring to.

“If you’re talking about the man who was part of the security team that rescued me in Mexico a few months ago, forget it.”

A look of disappointment marred her friend’s sharp feminine features, Gemma’s big, round eyes studying her closely. “I don’t get you.”

“Yet, you continue to try.”

“Seriously, sweetie. You’re smart. Gorgeous. Single. I mean, you’re a kickass doctor, for crying out loud. Any man worth his salt would jump at the chance to have something real with you. Even a stack of muscles like your sexy stud of a hero.”

“The lack of jumping isn’t exactly the problem,” she muttered low while sitting back into her chair. “And Cade’s more than a stack of muscles, by the way.” A whole lot more. “The man spent years in the military, and now he’s a highly trained operative who works for the top private security firm in the country.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to call a guy like that, either.” The other woman’s tone was filled with a hefty dose of sarcasm.

Oh, for the love of…

“I never said I didn’t want to call him.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

Kerrigan exhaled slowly while resting her elbows against the table’s smooth surface. “It might be different if we’d met in an even remotely conventional way. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Cade was super sweet and caring when he and his team found and rescued me and the others. And yes, he seemed very protective of me once the danger had passed, but I’m sure that was only because I was part of a group of hostages his team had just rescued. Think about it, Gem…of course , they’re going to be showing kindness and compassion in a situation like that.”

“What about the other?”

Kerrigan frowned, not understanding the question. “What ‘other’?”

“You know… ” Gemma tried prompting. “You said you felt a connection between you two. And don’t even bother trying to act like you don’t remember saying that, because we both know that magical memory of yours never lets you forget a freaking thing.”

“It’s not magic, Gemma. It’s called HSMA, or highly superior autobiographical memory. Otherwise known as?—”

“Hyperthymesia.” The woman’s pretty gray eyes gave a dramatic roll. “Yes, I know. I was being facetious, but my point still stands.”

“And that point is?”

“That you said the two of you had a connection.”

“I said I thought there may have been a sort of connection. But that was also following a very terrifying and traumatic experience, and my emotions were all over the map.”

Kerrigan was confident she’d just given an inarguable defense…until one of Gemma’s dark brows arched high with the woman’s pointed expression.

“That’s exactly my point.”

“ What’s your point?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Gemma reached across the table and took Kerrigan’s hand in hers. “You truly are one of the most brilliant doctors I know. But for someone so incredibly smart, you can be totally clueless to the world that sits outside these annoyingly white, sterile walls.”

“Meaning?”

“The guy gave you his number, didn’t he? Told you to call him if you needed anything and to stay in touch?”

“Yes. But again, that’s only because his team had just saved me and the other volunteers who survived.”

“Funny. I don’t recall you saying this Cade character gave his number to any of the other hostages. Then again, I don’t have your?—”

“Do not say ‘magic memory’,” Kerrigan warned. “And I have no idea if he gave his number to the others. For all I know, he did.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say…no. He gave you his number so you could call him. And I’m betting it wasn’t so you could fill out a satisfaction survey on his team’s performance.”

“He has my number, too, you know?” She reminded her well-meaning friend. “So if he wanted to talk, it would be just as easy for him to make the call.”

“Giving you his number was the guy putting the ball in your court. But rather than taking your shot, you let the damn thing drop to the floor.”

Kerrigan’s chest grew tight as she considered what Gemma had just said. She hadn’t dropped the ball with Cade…had she?

No. She hadn’t dropped a single thing because there was no freaking ball. Or anything else, for that matter.

Too bad you wish there was.

She ignored the thought because her inner voice was wrong. The fact was, if the man she couldn’t seem to forget had any interest in her whatsoever, he would have called her by now.

That wasn’t her being negative or a pessimist or anything else. It was simply the cold hard truth.

Cade knew her number, and she was certain he and his team knew exactly where she lived. And before the whole hostage ordeal occurred, Kerrigan had treated one of his teammate’s wives when she came into the E.R. after having been poisoned.

The mouthwatering man knew every possible way to reach her, if he wanted. Apparently…he didn’t.

“I appreciate your concern,” she told her best friend the truth. “And I know you’re only trying to help. But you’re looking for something that was never really there, Gem. So I’d really appreciate it if you’d let this one go.”

Gemma’s shoulders fell, her full, rosy lips dipping into a dramatic pout. “Fine. I’ll let it go…for now. But you’re smart, gorgeous, and…most importantly…you have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I’ve ever known. You deserve to be happy, Kerr. And you damn sure deserve someone who will treat you better than that cheating asshole ever did. You just need to keep putting yourself out there until you find them. And in the meantime, maybe…you know…try to have a little fun along the way.”

A little fun.

The kind of “fun” Gemma was referring to almost certainly involved Kerrigan and some guy, naked and in bed. It had been a while, she had to admit. And unfortunately—thanks to her infallible memory—she could easily recall the unimpressive details about the last time she’d had sex.

It was a year ago…the last time she’d slept with Brayden.

They’d woken, had sex, showered, dressed, and left in their separate cars for work. Five hours and seventeen minutes later, Kerrigan walked into a supply closet searching for one of her nurses.

Instead, she found Brayden bare-assed with his scrub pants piled around his ankles. His back was to her, and he was going at it with one of the hospital’s interns.

It was one of any number of moments in her life Kerrigan wished like hell she could forget. Because remembering moments of fear or excruciating heartache with such perfect, intricate detail…that wasn’t a gift.

It’s a curse.

“Just promise me you’ll at least think about calling that Cade guy. Or, at the very least, let me take you out for a night on the town sometime soon. And in return”—Gemma raised her right hand in the air palm-first—“I promise I won’t try to hook you up with anyone else. For…a while.”

Kerrigan’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Fine. I’ll think about?—”

Her phone began vibrating across the top of the table, interrupting the rest of what she’d started to say. She picked it up, and without even looking, knew she was being paged.

“Damn.” Kerrigan quickly shot to her feet as she shared the message aloud. “Incoming GSW. Possible partial brachial artery tear.”

“Wonder if it’s connected to that.”

She looked up from the phone to Gemma whose focus was once again locked on the T.V. Following her line of sight, Kerrigan read the latest breaking news banner scrolling along the bottom of the screen…

Mayor Nearly Shot by Assassin’s Bullet.

“Hard telling.” She pushed her chair up to the table before picking up her tray and turning to leave. “Doubt it, though. According to that, the shooting happened at the Aragon, which is much closer to Methodist and Weiss than here.”

“True.” Gemma reached for her own tray.

With a pop of her hip, she scooted the plastic chair back into place and fell in line with Kerrigan’s hurried steps. It didn’t take long to make their way back inside the bustling E.R.

“Where are we on the GSW?” Kerrigan asked the charge nurse on duty.

“Medics are pulling up now.” Naomi Shepherd came out from behind the department’s centrally located nurse’s station. “Last report said the patient was conscious, his vitals were stable, and he was responding appropriately. Reardon and Chavez took the call.”

She both recognized and respected the paramedics Naomi had referred to.

“That’s good news.” She gave the other woman a look of relief.

“Especially since the guy’s the city’s newest hero.”

“Hero?” Both Kerrigan and Gemma asked at the same time.

“Oh, you two haven’t heard. Someone took a shot at the mayor tonight, and?—”

“We saw something about that on the news as we were leaving the cafeteria,” Gemma interrupted. “But then Dr. Rawlins got the page, so we couldn’t stay to hear more about it.”

“So the short of it is, some whack job managed to sneak up to the balcony of the Aragon…with a rifle, mind you…and tried shooting Mayor Finnegan right as he was stepping off the stage.”

“That’s wild, but”—Gemma’s confused gaze slid back and forth between Kerrigan and Naomi—“what does that have to do with the incoming patient?”

“From what Chavez said when he called in the report, the guy he and Reardon are bringing in was working security for the event. Said he spotted the gun at the last second and threw himself on top of the mayor right as the shooter pulled the trigger.”

Kerrigan felt her eyes grow wide. “That was an extremely brave thing for him to do.”

“No wonder they’re calling the guy a hero,” Gemma agreed.

Naomi turned her focus solely on Kerrigan. The woman’s blue eyes cast an odd sort of shimmer as she added another shocking bit of information.

“There’s one more thing you should know. They said when they showed up on scene, the patient insisted he be brought here, to this hospital. And…”

“And?”

A sly grin lifted one corner of the woman’s mouth before she added, “The patient also asked for you by name.”

He what?

Before Kerrigan could even begin to make sense of what she’d just heard, the automatic doors leading to the ambulance bay slid open. She and the others turned as the gurney holding their patient was pushed inside.

Dennis Reardon—the PIC, or paramedic in charge—began running through his verbal report.

“Thirty-year-old male, GSW to the upper left arm. Bullet entered appears to have gone into the anterior bicep region below the bicep brachii. BP’s one-nineteen over seventy. Oxygen levels holding steady at ninety-eight.”

Promising data, for sure.

“Patient reportedly lost consciousness prior to our arrival,” Luis Chavez continued with his and his partner’s report. “But he was awake and alert when we got to him and has remained that way since.”

Ready to jump in and take over patient care, both Kerrigan and Gemma started walking that way. She listened closely as Chavez gave the doses of both morphine and fluids he and his partner had already administered.

The face of the man lying on the gurney finally came into view, causing Kerrigan to stop mid-stride. She stared back in shock, her heart slamming against her chest when she locked eyes with the man currently being wheeled toward her.

“Cade?” Her stomach dropped with concern for a man she hadn’t seen or spoken to in months. “You’re the one who took a bullet for the mayor?”

Eyes she thought about far too often appeared slightly glazed as they stared back at her from beneath a set of slightly weighted lids.

“Hey, doc.” Cade Ellis—the man she and Gemma had just been discussing—sent her a lazy grin. “Long time no see.”