Page 18 of Fighting for Julia (Laguna Beach Cops #6)

ALICEVILLE, ALABAMA

Miguel and Julia

It took less than five minutes to transport Miguel to a brand-new, state-of-the-art Level One trauma center located on the outskirts of Aliceville, two miles from McMullen.

Julia ran alongside the gurney as Miguel was rushed into emergency surgery by the trauma team who’d stabilized him after he’d flatlined.

“Stay with me, Miguel! Stay with me!”

He heard her because he opened his eyes and focused on her face. “Go.”

The hoarsely muttered word hit her hard. Julia stopped running several feet short of the operating room and watched as Miguel disappeared behind the heavy automated doors.

A trauma nurse paused long enough to say, “Don’t worry, Agent Washburn. He’s in excellent hands.”

In a daze, lost in a maelstrom of emotions, Julia found an empty waiting room in the surgical unit and sank into a chair with a vinyl seat cushion. Her hands shook as she pressed Justice McQuaid’s number to the government cell phone that he’d been issued.

“Justice McQuaid speaking.”

“Justice, it’s Julia. Thank God, you answered!” She heard a crowd cheering in the background and realized her mother must still be at the basketball game.

“What’s happened?” Justice demanded in a terse voice. “Are you and Miguel safe?”

“Safe, yes, but?—”

“But what?” Justice interrupted.

“Axalia shot Miguel. She and her brother are in the wind again, and Miguel’s in surgery. He’s fighting for his life, Justice.”

Without hesitation, without a single catch or tremor in his voice, Justice replied, “Luca will be on his way as soon as we can get him in the air. Where are you?”

“Aliceville, Alabama. But Justice, you’re already one man short. How will you do without Luca?”

“We’ll manage. Call me as soon as Miguel is out of surgery.”

“Yes, sir.”

Miguel’s blood on her hands and clothes finally caught Julia’s attention.

She staggered to her feet and began looking for a bathroom.

A sign pointed her in the right direction, and soon she ducked into a single occupant restroom.

Breathing hard and fighting back the bile rising in her throat, Julia scrubbed the copper-smelling blood off her hands.

She gagged and vomited into the toilet. When her sickness passed, she splashed her face with water and rinsed out her mouth.

As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, only then did she become aware of her tears.

Miguel. River.

If he died because of her, she’d never forgive herself.

I can’t believe he urged me to leave him behind.

Yes, I can. Because that’s the kind of man he is.

The kind of man he is…brave, honorable, loyal. Miguel wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t let her track the Andersons by herself, and he wouldn’t leave her behind, even if it meant losing their targets. And she wouldn’t do it, either. He might insist if Luca were with him, though.

If he survived.

No. She wouldn’t think like that. Miguel Rivera was a Laguna Beach cop, and those guys survived against all odds. They were invincible, almost as if they were action heroes in movies.

Julia wiped her face with a paper towel and squared her shoulders. She’d will Miguel to survive. In just a few short days, he’d ignited something deep inside her, something foreign and exciting. She couldn’t lose him now.

Julia returned to the waiting room to begin a lonely vigil. Her mother called to express her concern for Miguel and to inform Julia that Luca was on a private jet and would arrive at an airstrip near Aliceville in about four hours.

“Honey, I know you’re worried and scared. So are we. We’re praying for Miguel and for you, too. Hang in there.”

“Mom, I’m so sorry. Miguel wouldn’t be fighting for his life right now if it weren’t for me. I did this to him.”

Julia could almost imagine the smile on her mother’s face as she replied, “You couldn’t have stopped him from joining you, even if you had tried. Justice assured me of that.”

She took a deep, steady breath. “Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome. Call or text me as soon as you have news about Miguel.”

“I will.”

Shortly after she ended the call, a compassionate nurse brought Julia a cup of coffee from Starbucks located in the hospital’s lobby. “Or would you prefer tea?” the nurse asked.

“No, coffee is great.” She gratefully accepted the cup. “Would you be able to find out how Miguel Rivera is doing?”

“I’ll try.” The nurse offered a small, reassuring smile.

While she waited, Julia noticed that her cell phone had blown up with messages from Hutch, Tawny, and Owen. The texts were full of support and encouragement and pleas for information. She answered them all and texted Tex, too, to inform him of the situation.

I think a bullet might have hit one of them, she texted, so check clinics and pharmacies. On a whim, she added, vet clinics, too .

Tex instantly replied. I’m on it. Miguel will make it. Have faith .

And then the living embodiment of faith itself, Faith Stoker Morgan, found Julia in the waiting room.

The Pulitzer-prize winning journalist had eloped with U.S.

Attorney Judd Morgan on Valentine’s Day weekend, and, according to an online article, delighted and surprised everyone who knew them with their marriage.

Julia rose to her feet. She and the new Mrs. Morgan embraced, though they’d never met in person.

“How are you holding up, Julia?” Faith asked as they sat side by side.

“Fair. I guess I know why you’re here.”

Four years ago, Faith had been held hostage by Axel Anderson’s army. To survive, she had to resist the most damaging and invasive brainwashing techniques developed by Dr. Martin Schow, and more than likely, Julia’s own mother.

“I’ve been following the story about the Andersons’ escape from Western State Mental Hospital since it broke. I hope you don’t mind, but Tex told me the truth.”

Julia’s face flushed with a sudden flash of anger. “If you intend to write about the Andersons, please don’t capitalize on my connection to them.”

Faith shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Julia. You know my history with them. During my captivity at Axel’s compound, I had several encounters with all the Anderson siblings. Each was evil in his or her own right. From what I’ve heard and seen on the news, Axis and Axalia are monsters.”

“Miguel and I should have killed them,” Julia declared in a low, harsh voice. “As soon as they stepped into the safe house, we should have opened fire on them.”

“You and Miguel aren’t like them,” Faith reminded Julia. She spoke in a soft, reassuring tone.

“No. Axalia shot Miguel without blinking an eye.” A sudden idea occurred to Julia, and she sat up straight. “I’m almost positive I wounded one of them. Look, I can’t leave Miguel to track them, but you can. Please, Faith. Work with Tex and the authorities and go after them.”

Faith hesitated. Fear clouded her eyes. “It’s dangerous.”

Julia wouldn’t be deterred. “Since when is intrepid investigative reporter Faith Stoker Morgan afraid of danger? Think about the story you could write. An epilogue to Axel Anderson’s master plot.

Besides, you have access to all the resources and information you could possibly need through your husband. ”

“Who isn’t going to be thrilled when I tell him what I’m up to,” Faith parried.

“You traveled all this way,” Julia pointed out. “All I’m asking is that you pick up their trail and let the authorities do the rest.”

A steely resolve replaced the fear in Faith’s eyes. “All right, Julia. Tell me everything you know.”

Julia hit the highlights and ended with, “They’re driving a dark blue Taurus. There’s no time to waste, Faith. By now, Axis and Axalia might have ditched the Taurus for another car. And don’t forget one of them might be hurt.”

Both rose to their feet. Faith offered a sympathetic hug. “I won’t. I’ll touch base with Tex on my way out.”

“Thanks, Faith. I appreciate your willingness to help us find the Andersons.”

Within moments of Faith leaving, the nurse who’d brought Julia a cup of coffee entered the waiting room. “Is there news? Is Miguel out of surgery?”

“Not yet, Agent Washburn. However, I was able to learn that Agent Rivera is holding his own.”

Only a tiny ripple of relief swept through Julia. “Any idea when he’ll be out of surgery?” Out of danger, too, hopefully.

“No,” the nurse replied with a note of regret in her tone. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. Are you hungry? I could make a call to food services for you.”

Julia shook her head. Her stomach was still queasy, and the coffee hadn’t helped. “No, thank you.”

“A bottle of water, perhaps?”

“Yes, please.”

“Be right back.”

As time dragged by, Julia paced and drank water, paced and drank more water until the bottle was empty and so was she. Physically spent and emotionally drained, she dropped into a chair. Julia texted everyone an update before her eyes drooped and closed of their own volition.

“Julia.”

Her name spoken softly in a deep tenor, with just a trace of an Italian accent, and a hand on her shoulder gently shaking her startled Julia awake. Her hand automatically reached for her service weapon but fell away when she recognized the visitor.

Luca Martinelli’s familiar face almost brought Julia to tears. She rose to her feet, and he engulfed her in a bear hug.

“Luca,” she murmured. “Miguel will be relieved to see you.”

“I received your last text. No news?”

“No. And I’m scared. He’s been in surgery for hours?—”

Julia broke off as one of the trauma surgeons, dressed in fresh green scrubs and a white lab coat, joined them. From the serious expression on his face, she surmised the worst. Her knees went weak. Luca slipped an arm around her to hold her steady.

“Agent Washburn? Hi, I’m Dr. Solomon. I’m head of the trauma surgical unit here at Central Alabama Hospital.” He held out his hand to shake hers and Luca’s.

“Yes, hi, Dr. Solomon. This is Agent Luca Martinelli.”

Dr. Solomon nodded a solemn acknowledgement.

“How’s Miguel?” Luca got right to the point.