Page 30 of Nica (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #17)

G abe stood at the window of his home office, watching the sun dip below the tree line as shadows stretched across the parking lot of his apartment complex.

He’d grown to hate the view from the small window, wanted to give Nica a better home.

Buy a place where they could have room to spread out, where she could have a yard.

Not too big, but where she could plant a small vegetable garden, like the one Ms. Patti had outside her kitchen.

He couldn’t count the number of times he’d watched Nica digging in the dirt, pulling weeds and planting seeds.

His fingers drummed against the window frame, a nervous habit he’d picked up in the weeks since his life had turned into a nightmare of anonymous threats and carefully orchestrated terror.

How much more was he expected to stand, always on edge, always wondering when the next call would come, when the next threat against his beautiful wife would occur?

Nica was safe. That was all that mattered.

He’d convinced her to stay overnight at the Big House, to help Ms. Patti take care of Destiny.

He wasn’t Destiny’s obstetrician, but he knew she’d been having rough bouts of morning sickness, and it hadn’t taken much to talk Nica into staying overnight.

The clincher was reminding her that her daddy’s ranch had security that nobody could bypass, not even the man after him.

Right now, she was at Daisy’s Diner with her family, probably laughing at one of her brothers’ terrible jokes while picking at a piece of pie she didn’t really want.

The image should have comforted him, but instead it felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He wanted to be there, wanted to slide into the seat beside his wife and feel her hand slip into his, wanted to pretend for just an hour that their world hadn’t tilted off its axis.

But the tracker they’d found embedded in his shoulder changed everything. Every moment Nica spent with him was a moment she was in danger, because Gabe had a target on his back, and he’d rather cut out his own heart than be the reason someone hurt her.

“You’re brooding again,” Mike said from behind him, and Gabe turned to find his FBI friend sprawled in one of the leather chairs, a steaming cup of coffee balanced on his knee. “It’s not going to help.”

“Easy for you to say.” Gabriel moved away from the window, his restlessness making it impossible to stand still. “Your wife isn’t being stalked by some psychopath who blames you for destroying his life.”

“No, she left because she couldn’t stand the thought of my job.

It didn’t matter that I worked in a bloody office, she felt threatened and scared because of my job.

I know what it’s like to want to lock someone you love away from the world.

” Mike’s voice was steady, professional, but Gabe caught a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“The difference is, we’re not going to let this invisible monster win. ”

Gabriel sank into the chair across from Mike, running his hands through his hair.

“I keep thinking I should know who it is. The voice on the phone, it’s digitized, but the words, the way he speaks, there’s something familiar about it, but I can’t place it.

I can’t help wondering—is it somebody related to a patient I couldn’t save?

A family member looking for someone to blame? ” He shook his head. “Could be anyone.”

“That’s why we’re setting the trap,” Mike said, leaning forward. “We draw them out, get them to reveal themselves, and then we end this.”

They’d been over the plan a dozen times.

Gabe would make himself visible, vulnerable; a target too tempting to ignore.

Mike and his team would be watching, ready to move the moment their tormentor showed himself.

It was risky, there were a million things that could go wrong, but it was better than waiting for the next anonymous call, the next threat against Nica.

The sound of Gabe’s phone buzzing made both men freeze. He glanced at the screen—unknown number, just like all the others. He looked at Mike, who nodded grimly.

“Put it on speaker. Remember,” Mike said quietly, “keep him talking. The longer he stays on the line, the better chance we have of tracing the call.”

He hit the answer button and put the phone on speaker. “Dr. Summers.”

“Hello, Gabriel.” The voice was low, distorted by the voice modulator their tormentor had been using from the beginning. “I trust you’ve been thinking about our conversation.”

“Every day,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. “You want me? You’ve got me. But on my terms.”

Silence stretched across the line, and Gabe could almost feel the surprise on the other end.

“I’m listening,” the voice finally said.

Gabe met Mike’s eyes, seeing his own determination reflected there.

“I’ll come to you. Anywhere, anytime you say.

But in exchange, you leave my wife alone.

No more having your goons following her, no more gifts, no more of your sick mind games.

You get what you really want—me—and Nica gets to live her life in peace. ”

Another pause, longer this time. Gabe could hear the faint sound of breathing, could almost picture the man on the other end weighing his options.

“You’d do that?” The voice was softer now, almost curious. “You’d sacrifice yourself for her?”

“Without hesitation. I love my wife,” he said, and meant it with every fiber of his being. “Name the place and time.”

“Touching.” The mockery was back, sharp and cutting. “The devoted husband, willing to die for love. How noble.”

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“I’ll be in touch with the details,” the voice said. “But Gabriel? This ends on my terms, not yours. Remember that.”

The line went dead, and Gabe set the phone down with hands that weren’t quite steady.

“Think he’ll really go for it?” Mike asked.

“He’ll go for it.” Gabe was already moving, his mind shifting into the focused calm that had served him well in the operating room.

“He wants me to suffer, and there’s no better way to do that than to make me think I’m walking into my own execution.

He knows the excruciating wait will be almost worse than putting myself at his mercy. ”

“Except we’ll be ready for him,” Mike said, standing. “My team will be in position before—”

The phone rang again, cutting off Mike’s words. This time the screen showed a number Gabe recognized.

“Rafe?” Gabe answered, his heart already starting to race.

“Gabe, you need to get to the hospital,” Rafe’s words hit him like a physical blow. “There’s been a shooting at Daisy’s Diner. Nica’s been hit.”

The phone slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor as the world tilted around him.

He heard Mike calling his name, felt strong hands gripping his shoulders, but all he could think about was Nica—his beautiful, fierce wife who was supposed to be safe, who was supposed to be protected while he played mind games with a madman.

“How bad?” He heard Mike ask the question, realized he’d picked up the fallen cell phone and was talking to Rafe. With a quick glance at Gabe, Mike hit the speaker button, and he heard Rafe’s response.

“She’s alive,” Rafe said, and Gabe sagged with relief so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. “But it’s bad. Gabe needs to get here now.”

He was already moving, Mike beside him, but as they rushed toward the door, one thought echoing through his mind with crystalline clarity: The trap had been sprung, all right. But he’d been wrong about who the prey was supposed to be.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor buzzed overhead as Gabe’s boots echoed against the polished linoleum, each step feeling like it took an eternity.

Mike kept pace beside him, both men moving with the kind of urgency that came from knowing someone you loved was fighting for their life behind closed doors.

When they rounded the corner to the surgical waiting area, Gabe’s heart clenched at the sight before him.

Douglas sat hunched forward in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, his weathered hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

Ms. Patti paced near the window, her usually perfect blonde hair disheveled, mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Two of Nica’s brothers—Dane and Chance—stood near the coffee machine, their faces grim.

But it was the blood on Dane’s shirt that nearly brought Gabe to his knees.

Dark crimson stains covered the front of his brother-in-law’s light blue button-down, and Gabe knew with sick certainty that it was Nica’s blood.

His wife’s precious life’s blood. The woman who had teased him that morning about burning the toast, who had promised she’d stay put at the ranch and take care of Destiny, who’d promised she’d meet him for dinner at Daisy’s with her family.

Mike muttered a curse under his breath, and Gabe realized he’d stopped walking entirely.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention.

A man in a dark gray shirt and worn jeans stood just outside the waiting area, his posture rigid with what looked like shame and frustration.

When the stranger’s eyes met Mike’s, there was a brief nod of recognition.

Gabe realized who he was, who he had to be.

The bodyguard. The man supposed to keep Nica safe.

Rage, white-hot and consuming, surged through Gabe’s chest. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he took a step toward the man before Mike’s firm grip on his arm stopped him.

“Not now,” Mike said quietly. “Your wife’s family needs you.”

The words hit him like a physical blow. Your wife. Nica was in surgery fighting for her life because someone had tried to kill her. Because of him. Because of the nightmare from his past that refused to stay buried.