He crumpled the empty bag. "Let's go."

Two blocks from Cammie's building, Saul crossed an intersection, proceeding on a green light. Reegan was talking, something about billboards and cherry blossoms, hands gesturing and pointing, and only half of Saul's attention was focused where it should have been. A near-fatal mistake.

As with most traumatic accidents, he didn't remember much. The blare of a horn. The screech of tires. A sickening wrench of movement. His head slammed off the steering wheel as the Rover spun in a circle, throwing his stomach into his throat.

Blackness hovered at the edges of his vision, narrowing further the longer the car spun. No, he couldn't pass out. Reegan might need him. Whatever had hit them had struck the passenger side of the vehicle, where Reegan had been sitting.

Saul moaned as the sickening spin slowed, then stopped. He tried to blink his vision clear. "Reegan?"

"I'm okay." His voice trembled, the words gritty.

Saul's mouth felt wrong, as though it were stuffed with cotton, his jaw refusing to open and close as it should. Blindly, he reached across the console, and a hand caught his.

"I'm okay," Reegan repeated. "Jesus. That was close."

With great care, Saul swiveled. Reegan's body was pressed close to the console, pinned, though not tightly, by the buckled passenger door. "You sure? Can you move?" The words came out garbled, but Reegan laughed low in his throat.

"I'm fine. Bruised, but alive. Which is a miracle. You swerved just in time."

He had? He didn't recall that. "Oh." He gave a weak cough. "Go me."

"Damn straight."

Faces appeared outside Saul's window. Concerned witnesses. He gave them a weak thumbs-up, trying to ignore the throbbing in his jaw. "Think I screwed up my face."

Scraped fingers took hold of his chin and turned him into the light. "Yep. No worries. You're still gorgeous."

A policeman shouted through Reegan's splintered window. "Hang on. We'll have you out of there as soon as we can."

Reegan drew a rattling breath as he tried to shift from beneath the crushed door. "You think D'arco's men are having this much fun? 'Cause the idea of one of them pinned under a bus makes my heart sing."

Another sickening spin began, and Saul shivered with a chill. Shock was setting in, he realized. His vision narrowed. Became tunnel-like. Staying awake for Reegan became his sole focus. "We can hope."

"Hope is for the weak." Reegan gave up trying to wriggle free. He slumped against the console and closed his eyes. "But right now it's all we've got."

Chapter Eighteen.

"I said I'm fine. Please don't ask again."

Reegan's voice penetrated the fog of white noise, but the words meant nothing to Saul. Thinking about them too hard made his head throb. A chorus of other voices hummed in the background. The air smelled of antiseptic. He heard the swish of a curtain being drawn nearby. Felt a soft breeze brush his bare arms and chest. Focusing on any one stimulus took tremendous effort. His ears buzzed, and a delicious warmth tingled in his arms and legs.

Saul knew that feeling. He was either drunk off his ass or high on narcotics. The left side of his face felt numb, but when he reached to touch it, pain lanced through his shoulder. He groaned his dismay, and Reegan's voice came again, closer this time.

"Easy. Don't try to move too quickly."

Tongue thick and mouth dry, Saul nonetheless managed a question. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?"

It raced back the moment Reegan answered. The accident. But hadn't he been conscious afterward? They'd been sitting in the ruined Rover, waiting for an ambulance. One had obviously arrived, because Saul was now flat on his back on a gurney. A loud beep above his head signaled the blood pressure cuff on his bicep to tighten. Saul waited for it to release before verbalizing the obvious conclusion. "I'm in a hospital."

"Yes. They insisted when you decided to take a nap and wouldn't wake up. Congratulations. We have matching concussions."

He won the battle to open his eyes. One of them, anyway. The bright light drew an involuntary whimper until Reegan leaned over him, blocking the worst of the glare. "Hey. Welcome back. I was going to suggest getting the airbags on that car checked, but I think its days are done. I got a look at what was left when they pulled us out. Sorry."

"Not your fault." Brain fuzzy, Saul rolled his gaze around the room, searching for a wall clock. "How much time have we lost?"

"Don't worry about that right now."

"No, we have to-"

"Saul, not right now."

Groaning, Saul squinted at the tubes leading into his arm. Not blood. Clear fluids. Standard precaution and easily remedied. He made a clumsy grab for the line. Reegan intercepted him. "What are you doing?"

"We need to get out of here."

Reegan leaned over the bed, once more filling Saul's steadily clearing vision. A pencil-thin line of dried blood ran the length of his cheek, from temple to jawbone. A fresh bruise colored his other. But his eyes were clear. Focused. "Lie back and be quiet. Before I order more pain meds."

"No. I need to be clearheaded, not high. What'd they give me?" He scowled when his words ran together. His head was clearing, but his mouth hadn't caught up.

"Tylenol with a kick. They weren't happy when I admitted how much ibuprofen you've taken the past two days. They thought you might have a skull fracture. Maybe some cerebral hemorrhaging."

"I'm fine," Saul slurred.

"You're an idiot. But yes, you'll be fine. The X-ray and CT scan came back all clear. Barbaric tests," he muttered.

Saul lifted a hand, pleased when Reegan took it immediately. "No more drugs." He turned his head slowly, taking in the curtained space. "I'm still in the ER."

"Yes."

The clipped answer went a long way to explaining Reegan's mood. His eyes had lost the last traces of the humor they normally carried. Bloodshot, they'd locked on to Saul the moment he'd opened his eyes and hadn't wavered.

Saul pressed his fingers against Reegan's wrist. "I'm good."

"Just shut up, okay? Before I hit you myself." Reegan shot to his feet and paced the tiny six-by-eight space. "I've decided we're going to do this alone. Silvia and me."

Cold terror drove away some of the opiate's warmth. Saul caught Reegan's hand when he passed close to the bed and tightened his grip until the other man flinched. "Don't you dare."

Reegan tried to yank away. Saul held fast. The mini tug-of-war went on until Reegan gave a growl of exasperation and dropped onto the mattress. "I've been having this horrible feeling that you won't come out of this alive. I can't-" He slipped Saul's hold, pushed off the bed and resumed his circling. Saul let him go. Three steps to the curtain, then three steps back to the bed. His voice rose with each circuit. "I don't want you hurt. Or worse. You've done enough."

"You think so?" Saul tried to swallow, but his throat seized. "Make sure your calculations are right. I don't want to owe you anything."

"Stop." Reegan's voice broke. "Don't fuck up what we shared."

"I won't if you won't. You're not going this alone. End of story." Saul struggled against the persistent sleepiness. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

"We're hours past when we said we'd be back. Has Cammie called?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard your phone ring."

"I put it on vibrate when we got to the parking garage." His hand fluttered over the right pocket of his jeans. Reegan caught his fingers and lifted them to his mouth, brushing his lips over Saul's knuckles before digging out the phone. Saul recited the passcode. "Do you know how to check for missed calls?"

"Think so."

Opening one eye allowed Saul to watch Reegan tap through the touch screen menus, as well as catch the look of alarm when it crossed his face. "What?"

Reegan turned the screen for Saul to see. "Five calls. All around the same time. Less than an hour ago."

Which could mean a host of things. Cammie getting impatient topped the list. He grabbed for the phone. "Give it here."

He dialed Cammie's cell. It rang four times and transferred to voicemail. The ball of ice in his stomach grew as he listened to her chipper voice instructing him to leave a message.

Reegan paced restlessly next to the bed as Saul redialed. "Anything?"

"She's not answering. We need to get back there."

Reegan didn't argue this time around. When Saul pushed onto his elbows, he slipped an arm around his waist and coaxed him to sit on the side of the bed. "Okay?"

If his stomach would stop doing flips. He slumped against the rolling stand. "Yeah. Just give me a second." Saliva flooded his mouth, and he groped for the plastic cup of water on the tray. It felt like heaven sliding down his throat. The nausea settled into a gentle pitching motion. Not perfect, but better. "Okay. Thought I was going to lose my lunch."

"No worries. You already did in the ambulance."

Saul took the jeans Reegan handed him, cursing the shake in his arms. "Bet that was pretty."

"I've seen worse." He hovered while Saul struggled into the pants. "It wasn't any fun when you lost consciousness. Can you stand?"

"I'll try." Saul drew two deep breaths and slid off the hospital bed onto his feet. His knees wobbled but held. His gut hitched once then settled. "Is my shirt around?"

"Take this." Reegan held out a scrub top. "They cut the other one off of you."

"Bastards." He raised his arms, and Reegan slipped the light blue surgical shirt over his head. "What about my gun?"

"They had to verify your permit for concealed carry. Once they did, it got put in lock-up."

As tempting as it was to skip the hoops and red tape it would take to get his weapon back, leaving without it wasn't an option. Especially if the girls were in trouble. "We'll pick it up on the way out. You have my wallet? We'll need cash for a cab."

"Yeah. They're not going to like you leaving. Pretty sure they said something about overnight observation."

"They're going to be disappointed. What hospital are we at?"

Reegan bent to tie Saul's shoes after he failed twice at making a proper knot. "I didn't even ask. But the ride was short. We can't be too far from Cammie's."

Saul stood, took one step toward the door, then another. They got easier the farther he went. "Let's get moving."

The cab coasted to a stop in front of Cammie's building. Reegan busied himself with the complexities of counting out cash while Saul crawled out of the backseat. Pain radiated down his neck and up across the crown of his head. He hadn't wanted to risk anything stronger than a Tylenol, but it wasn't touching the discomfort in any meaningful way.

Saul turned the pain around on itself, swapping the distraction for a focus point. With every throb of his jaw, he narrowed his thoughts to the problem at hand.

Another trick Crank had taught him.

Reegan met him at the front door to the building, jogging up the steps while he stuffed Saul's wad of cash into his pocket. Saul leaned against the cool bricks and pressed the buzzer for Cammie's apartment.

Nobody answered.

Reegan cursed. "Do you know her code?"

No, although in hindsight it was a detail he should've thought of. Another stupid mistake. He pressed the button again, jabbing it several times before Reegan caught his hand. "Try a different one. Try them all. Someone might buzz us in."

Saul's fingers were hovering over the first buttons when the door flew open. A man pushed past, chattering away on his Bluetooth. He clipped Reegan with his shoulder, barely glancing his way. "No," he said as he jogged down the steps to the sidewalk. "I said gunshots, damn it. Gunshots! It sounded like there was a war going on up there. Why haven't the police come yet?" He fumed through a pause. "This is family-oriented neighborhood, pal. There are no gangs."

Pale, Reegan caught the door, sticking his foot inside before the latch reengaged, then pushed Saul ahead of him onto the first-floor landing. "Can you manage three flights?"

With no elevator he'd have to. He waved Reegan ahead. "I'll be right behind you." Saul grasped the railing and started up after him. "But don't you dare go in there without me."

Acknowledging the command with a nod, Reegan disappeared around the bend in the stairwell. Saul listened to his running footsteps, counting them automatically as he jogged up as quickly as his injuries allowed. He met Reegan a lot sooner than he anticipated, at the broad landing to the second floor. "What's wrong?"

Reegan pointed. Pot shards and loose dirt littered the scuffed terra cotta tile. Saul tilted his head back, ignoring the flash of pain, and stared, horrified, at where Cammie's plants had been lined against the railing. Not a single one remained. Philodendron tendrils, ripped loose of their roots, dangled here and there from the wrought iron. He grabbed Reegan's arm in a vise-like grip. "Get behind me."

He growled a warning when Reegan tried to argue, and with a vicious look, Reegan stepped behind him as they rounded the corner and started up the last flight of steps.

The potting bench sat in two pieces, cleaved through the middle. A rainbow of shattered clay pots covered the ground around them. A shredded bag of soil in the corner accounted for the layer of black dirt blanketing the floor in front of Cammie's apartment.

The door, ajar and hanging off one set of hinges, was littered with loamy handprints. Saul's heart slammed against his ribs, pounding in synch with his head. He'd done this. Led the danger to Cammie. He'd been too cocky, thinking they wouldn't be able to connect her to him.

The air had an abandoned feel, but his instincts hinted that they weren't alone. He held a finger to his lips. Crouched behind him on the stairs, Reegan nodded.

Saul edged up the last few steps and peered around the door into the apartment. More destruction greeted him. The half-moon foyer table lay on its side. Looking beyond to the living room, he saw the huge television listing to one side, screen smashed.

He pulled his gun, cursing when it slid through his sweat-slick hands. If the enemy remained inside, they were hiding. Planning an ambush. The situation didn't leave room for mistakes. Brutally shoving away the impulse to rush inside, he waited, still and silent, listening for the slightest clue.

Finally, a sound reached his ears. The tinkle of broken glass. A scrape, as though a chair were being dragged. A pained moan.

Fear for Cammie annihilated Saul's patience. He hunched over to make himself a smaller target and bulleted through the foyer and into the living room.

D'arco's men had wreaked almost total devastation. Not even a picture had been left hanging on the wall. Saul stopped in the middle of the room, tracking the gun in a circle as he checked for threats.