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"Don't let anyone near this door," I mutter to Livingston.
"I got you," he says and hands me his phone.
I step outside, turning back to see Mila talking quietly with the nurse. She looks so fucking small and pale in that bed with wires running all over the place. The scrubs we found for her make her look like a little kid playing dress up in clothes too big for her.
The rage I've been ignoring all afternoon to focus on her crawls up my throat, sinking claws into me.
"Tell me you found the son of a bitch," I say to Finn, striding a few steps down the hall. I stop with the door to her room still in plain sight. I know Livingston will kill anyone who tries to get through that door, but that's not good enough for me. Not now. I'm not willing to gamble with her safety.
They came for her in broad daylight. Had she been at work like they expected, they would have taken her by force if necessary. And they made damn sure I was out of the way when they put their plan into motion. They had me miles away, dealing with the dead body they left in the street less than a block from ATF headquarters. The only reason she's still breathing is because she was in that fucking house and had the sense to hide when she heard them break in.
"How is she?" Finn asks instead of answering me.
"Better than I am," I admit, running a hand down my face. I lean against the wall and sigh, watching as a nurse pushes an empty gurney down the far end of the hallway. I'm so fucking tired, I feel like I'm going to fall over. "I thought I lost her, Finn." The thought still twists like a knife in my chest, right through my heart. "She may be pregnant."
"Jesus," he mutters.
She got out of that house by herself, knowing she might be carrying my baby. I can't even comprehend the strength that had to take. I've called her a warrior for a long time, but that's never been truer than it was today. I'm so fucking proud of her, and so fucking in love with her, I don't think it's possible to fall any deeper. But I will. Because she's Mila, and that's just what she does to me. Without even trying, she's been doing it for four fucking years.
"You need to get her out of town for a few days," Finn says.
"Why?" My body tenses, his tone sending warning bells ringing through my head.
"Fuck. Before I tell you this, remember that you're a fucking cop."
"Tell me."
"Guerrero is MIA," he says. "We rounded up a few of his people, and they don't have a clue where he's at."
"They could be covering for him," I remind him. It wouldn't be the first time, and it damn sure won't be the last time. Gangs and cartels don't like snitches on a good day. When people like Jose Guerrero are involved, snitches don't survive long. In this game, loyalty is the only thing that keeps you alive.
"They aren't covering. Brady made damn sure of that," Finn mutters. "He almost fucking killed one of them."
"Good," I say as a savage sense of satisfaction twists through me at the news that Brady Kaplan is out there, cracking skulls. If anyone understands the shit I went through today, he does. He's been living the same hell for weeks now.
For days, I was furious with him for putting his family in harm's way. I didn't understand how he could be so careless, so stupid. I get it now, though, and I'm fucking sorry I didn't understand earlier.
He could have taken every precaution in the world, and Guerrero still would have come for his family, just like he came for Mila. That's who he is. That's what he does. People like Carla and Andres, and Mila are collateral damage to people like Guerrero, acceptable causalities in his fucked-up war. There is no safe place for the innocent to hide, not so long as motherfuckers like that breathe.
"I hope he takes out as many of the bastards as he can," I mutter, meaning every word.
"Roman," Finn warns me, but I don't really give a shit.
"They held a fucking gun to his two-year-old son's head," I snap, reminding him exactly why my partner has every right to want to tear Guerrero and his people apart. "They torched my house with Mila inside. So I don't really give a fuck about your delicate sensibilities right now, Finn. The only reason I'm not out there with him, dismantling Guerrero's little cartel, member by fucking member, is because of her. Because I'm not leaving her side so long as she's still in this city."
I pause as another nurse appears in the hall, hurrying past without even glancing in my direction.
"You better pray to God you find him before I do," I tell Finn as soon as she's out of earshot, my voice deadly quiet. "Because I'm telling you now, I don't give a fuck if I'm a cop or not. If I find him, I will kill him. And so will Brady."
Finn rattles off a string of curses, and then he shocks the shit out of me. "When you and Brady find him, you better make damn sure he takes the first shot, Roman. You hear me? You make sure he takes the first shot, and then you kill the son of a bitch."
"Already planned on it," I tell him.
"Good. Get her out of town, and then go find Brady."
"Yeah, on it," I mutter, pushing off the wall to head back to her room.
"And Roman?" he says before I can hang up. "You better not fucking die, and you better not get caught. If she's pregnant, she's going to need you, and I have a feeling we are too. This shit isn't going to end just because he's gone, I can guarantee you that."
