Page 38 of Nica (Texas Boudreau Brotherhood #17)

Think about Gabe. Think about going home. Think about the life they were going to build together once this nightmare was over.

But as she lay there in the stillness of the hospital room, listening to the murmur of voices in the hallway and the distant sound of sirens growing closer, one thought kept echoing in her mind: Julian Banner was coming for her, and this time, there might be nowhere left to run.

The silence on the other end of the phone line stretched for three heartbeats too long, and Gabe felt his stomach drop into free fall.

“Say that again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed the cell phone harder against his ear.

Derrick Williamson’s words came through with clinical precision, each syllable hitting like a physical blow.

“Julian Banner’s hotel room is empty. He didn’t check out, so the room’s still registered to his company.

Housekeeping found the room cleared out this morning.

His rental car is gone from the parking garage. ”

Their trap had failed. Banner had been long gone by the time they discovered he’d left Houston.

How had Banner managed to find out they were onto him?

Gabe slapped his palm against the hallway wall in the sheriff’s office.

They’d been so sure, convinced they’d managed to finally track Julian Banner through so many false leads, the many roadblocks he’d put up to keep them guessing, until they’d finally caught a break—Banner registered his hotel room to one of his shell companies—one they’d discovered buried under layers of other shell companies.

Gabe’s hand trembled as he ended the call, his mind immediately jumping to the one person Banner would target now that he’d slipped through their net. The woman lying alone and vulnerable in a hospital bed, recovering from a bullet wound that should have been his. His Nica.

He speed-dialed Dusty’s number, each ring feeling like an eternity.

“Warner.”

“Dusty, it’s Gabe. Banner’s gone. He checked out of his hotel—”

“Whoa, slow down, Doc. Banner? The computer guy you were trying to flush out? He hasn’t shown his face here. I’ve been right outside Nica’s room all morning, just like we discussed. Right now, I’m inside the room with her. Everything’s all quiet here.”

Gabe closed his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart. “You’re sure? No one’s asked about her, tried to get information?”

“I’m sure. She’s safe, Gabe. I promise you that. I’ll guard her with my life.”

The conviction in Dusty’s voice should have been reassuring, but the knot in Gabe’s chest only tightened. Banner hadn’t gotten this far by making frontal assaults. He was methodical, patient, and deadly clever.

“We’re heading to the hospital now,” Gabe said, already moving toward his truck where Mike and Rafe waited. “Don’t let anyone in that room who isn’t medical staff you personally know.”

“Copy that. I’ll lock it down here.”

The drive to the hospital blurred past in a haze of anxiety and self-recrimination. Mike tried to make conversation from the passenger seat, but Gabe could barely focus on the words. All he could think about was Nica, pale and weak in that hospital bed, paying the price for his past mistakes.

They took the elevator to the third floor in tense silence. Gabe’s steps quickened as they approached Nica’s room, the empty chair outside her door made his blood turn to ice.

“Dusty?” he called out, pushing through the door.

The hospital bed was empty, sheets twisted and hanging half off the mattress. Gabe’s world tilted sideways.

“Dusty!” Mike’s voice came from the bathroom. “Gabe, in here!”

They found the deputy sheriff crumpled on the bathroom floor, a massive knot swelling on the back of his head. His face was ashen, but his eyes fluttered open when Gabe knelt beside him.

“Doc?” Dusty’s voice was thick, confused. “What happened? I was…there was a man…” He glanced frantically around the room. “Where’s Nica?”

“He took her.” Gabe growled low, reining in his fury, his medical training taking over even as panic clawed at his throat. “Looks like you took a nasty blow to the back of your head. Can you tell me what you remember?”

Dusty struggled to sit up, wincing as he touched the back of his head.

“Tall guy. Dark hair. Said he was here to see Nica, but something felt off about him. I didn’t recognize him, and I know most of the folks in this town.

When I asked his name, he just…smirked. Like he thought the whole thing was humorous. ”

Gabe’s hands clenched into fists. He pulled out his phone, scrolling to the photo Agent Williamson had sent him earlier—Julian Banner’s DMV photo.

“This him?”

Dusty squinted at the screen, then nodded grimly.

“That’s him. But Doc, he wasn’t alone. Two other guys came up behind me while I was focused on him.

Big guys, professional. I tried to fight them off, tried to get to my radio, but…

” He gestured helplessly at his injury. “I’m sorry, Gabe.

I promised I’d keep her safe, and I failed. ”

The guilt in Dusty’s voice was nothing compared to the crushing weight settling on Gabe’s chest. This was his fault.

All of it. Banner had taken Nica because of him, because of a past that refused to stay buried.

He wondered if the ghosts of his past would ever allow him to have any kind of life, or if he’d be haunted until his dying day.

“This isn’t on you,” Gabe said, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Banner’s a professional. He planned this. We’re lucky he didn’t kill you. He took Nica. He’s going to keep her alive, at least until he contacts me. He wants to twist the knife a little more, wants me to hurt.”

Mike and Rafe returned from checking with hospital security, their expressions grim.

“Cameras show three men entering through the service entrance about an hour ago,” Mike reported.

“They knew exactly where to go, avoided the main cameras. By the time they left with Nica, they’d disabled the camera covering this floor.

Which tells me they probably had a fourth man working to knock out the cameras while they came to the third floor. ”

“He’s got her,” Gabe said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “Banner’s got my wife.”

But even as he said it, another devastating realization hit him. He grabbed the nearest nurse in the hallway.

“Nica Boudreau—the patient who was in 314. Her test results from this morning, are they back?”

The nurse checked her tablet, and her expression grew concerned. “Yes, Dr. Summers. The blood work shows signs of post-surgical infection. She needs to start on IV antibiotics immediately, or…” She handed the chart to Gabe, letting him see the findings for himself.

She didn’t need to finish. Gabe knew the risks better than anyone. Nica was only two days post-surgery from a bullet wound. Her body was already compromised, fighting to heal. An infection could kill her faster than Banner’s plans for revenge.

The floor seemed to shift beneath Gabe’s feet. Banner had taken a woman who was not only defenseless, but without antibiotics started immediately would continue to weaken, her immune system severely compromised. And it was all because Julian Banner believed Gabe had murdered the woman he had loved.

The irony was bitter enough to choke on.

Banner was about to kill an innocent woman over a crime Gabe hadn’t committed, while the real killer had walked free.

And Nica—beautiful, strong Nica who’d never asked for any of this—was paying the ultimate price for loving a man haunted by ghosts he couldn’t escape.

Dusty struggled to stand, wavering slightly. “What do we do now, Doc?”

Gabe stared at the empty hospital bed, his wife’s absence a physical ache in his chest. Somewhere out there, Banner had the woman he loved, and time was running out in more ways than one.

“Now,” he said, his voice hardening with desperate resolve, “we find her before it’s too late.”