Chapter 4 - The Medicine That Should Never Have Reached His Vein
Claire clamped the IV line.
“Call pharmacy!”
Gabriel tried to sit upright.
Pain shot across his face.
“Claire?”
“Don’t move.”
Marcus was already calling security.
Claire disconnected the infusion.
Thirty-two milliliters had entered.
Maybe thirty-five.
She checked the medication label again.
The printed name was correct.
The concentration was not.
Her stomach dropped.
“This dosage could stop his breathing.”
Gabriel remained strangely calm.
“How long?”
“If it’s what I think, minutes.”
Claire pressed the emergency button.
A team rushed in.
Dr. Kline arrived first.
Claire handed him the bag.
“Wrong concentration.”
He looked.
“Jesus.”
Gabriel’s blood pressure began falling.
Claire focused.
Oxygen.
Reversal medication.
Cardiac monitoring.
Fluids.
Gabriel’s eyes stayed on her.
“Stay awake.”
“I’m awake.”
“Keep talking.”
“About what?”
“I don’t care.”
His mouth twitched.
“You always were bossy.”
“Good. Be annoyed.”
“Extremely.”
His eyelids lowered.
Claire touched his cheek.
“Gabriel.”
They opened again.
“There.”
“Don’t close your eyes.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“If this goes badly—”
“It won’t.”
“Listen.”
“No.”
“Daniel made me promise—”
The monitor alarm accelerated.
Claire shouted for another dose.
Medical staff moved around them.
Gabriel’s consciousness faded.
Then returned.
His fingers searched blindly.
Claire caught his hand.
“I’m here.”
He squeezed weakly.
Thirty minutes later, the crisis broke.
Blood pressure stabilized.
Breathing improved.
Gabriel opened his eyes fully.
Claire leaned against the wall.
Dr. Kline exhaled.
“That was close.”
Gabriel looked toward Marcus.
“Mercer.”
“Missing,” Marcus said.
Claire stared.
“What?”
“He left the hospital eleven minutes before the security lockdown.”
“He signed the medication.”
“Yes.”
Claire shook her head.
“Mercer was pushing for surgery. Why save him and then poison him?”
Gabriel’s voice was hoarse.
“Maybe surgery wasn’t supposed to succeed.”
Claire thought back.
Mercer’s urgency.
His irritation.
His repeated insistence.
Had he been trying to put Gabriel unconscious in an operating room?
She felt sick.
“Where is he?”
Marcus answered.
“Unknown.”
Gabriel looked at Claire.
“You should leave.”
She almost laughed.
“No.”
“This changed things.”
“Yes. Now I’m definitely staying.”
“Claire.”
“You nearly died.”
“Which is why you’re leaving.”
She walked closer.
“You think that argument works on me?”
“I can put you on a plane.”
“And I can get off.”
“I can assign security.”
“I can report them for stalking.”
Marcus looked at the floor.
Gabriel’s frustration grew.
“I cannot protect you if you refuse instructions.”
Claire leaned down until their faces were level.
“I am not one of your soldiers.”
Something flashed between them.
Old affection.
Anger.
Fear.
“You’re right,” Gabriel said.
“Good.”
“You’re the one person I never learned how to order.”
Claire straightened.
Her pulse betrayed her.
Marcus politely became fascinated by his phone.
Gabriel looked toward the window.
“I should have found you years ago.”
“Yes.”
“I tried.”
“I know that now.”
“Your father threatened to break both my legs.”
Claire glanced at the wheelchair.
“That aged badly.”
Gabriel stared at her.
She covered her mouth.
“That was terrible.”
A laugh escaped him.
Real laughter.
It lasted only seconds because his ribs hurt.
But Claire laughed too.
For one brief moment, the room stopped being dangerous.
Later that afternoon, Gabriel began rehabilitation.
He hated it.
Claire expected nothing less.
A therapist named Natalie instructed him to contract muscles that refused to cooperate.
Gabriel glared at his legs like betrayal alone might force them to move.
Claire stood nearby.
“Again,” Natalie said.
“I did it.”
“You attempted it.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Claire smiled.
Gabriel pointed at her.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Professionally.”
His right knee moved less than an inch.
Everyone froze.
Natalie crouched.
“Again.”
Gabriel tried.
Nothing.
Then movement.
Small.
But unmistakable.
Claire felt unexpected tears.
Gabriel noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You are.”
“Hospital humidity.”
That evening Julian Vale arrived.
Unlike Gabriel, Julian looked polished enough for a magazine cover.
Dark suit.
Perfect hair.
Easy smile.
No visible weapons.
Claire distrusted him immediately.
He embraced Gabriel.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
Gabriel remained stiff.
“Did I?”
Julian looked hurt.
“Seriously?”
“Where were you the night of my accident?”
Julian’s smile disappeared.
“Paris.”
“Proof?”
“About four hundred people saw me at a charity gala.”
“Your ring was photographed near my wreck.”
Julian stared.
“What ring?”
“Our father’s.”
Julian slowly looked at his right hand.
Bare.
“I lost that ring six months ago.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t realize family jewelry required an incident report.”
Claire watched him carefully.
Julian noticed.
“You must be Claire.”
She stiffened.
“How do you know?”
“My brother has said your name exactly twice in twelve years.”
Gabriel shot him a warning look.
Julian smiled faintly.
“Both times while drunk.”
Claire looked at Gabriel.
“Really?”
“No.”
Julian laughed.
“I already like her.”
Gabriel did not.
Claire crossed her arms.
“Did you know my father?”
Julian’s expression changed instantly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He worked for ours.”
Gabriel looked sharply at him.
Claire said, “Gabriel says he worked intelligence.”
“Both statements can be true.”
Julian walked toward the window.
“Our father had government friends. Daniel was one.”
“Did you know he was murdered?”
Julian turned.
“I suspected.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
Gabriel studied him.
“You know something.”
Julian looked suddenly tired.
“There are things Father built that neither of us understood.”
“Try.”
Julian reached inside his jacket.
Gabriel’s security tensed.
Julian removed an old brass key.
He placed it on the table.
“Daniel gave me this three days before he died.”
Claire stared.
“Why?”
“He said if Ghost ever came back to you, I should give it to Claire.”
Gabriel went still.
Julian continued.
“I had no idea what he meant.”
Claire picked up the key.
Numbers were engraved along the side.
4-17-9.
She recognized them.
Her childhood home had once contained a basement cabinet with a combination lock.
The combination had been 4-17-9.
“What does it open?” Gabriel asked.
Claire whispered, “Something my father hid.”
That night they drove to Philadelphia.
Gabriel insisted on going despite medical advice.
Claire lost the argument after realizing Gabriel owned the ambulance company.
Their convoy arrived at her childhood home shortly before midnight.
Claire had rented the property to a young couple after her father died.
The basement looked almost the same.
Old shelves.
Concrete walls.
A narrow storage room.
Claire walked toward the spot where the cabinet had once stood.
It was gone.
She touched the wall.
“Here.”
Marcus scanned it.
“Hollow.”
They removed a wooden panel.
Behind it sat a steel compartment.
The brass key fit.
Claire’s hands trembled.
Gabriel sat behind her in his wheelchair.
“Open it.”
She turned the key.
Inside lay a file.
A photograph.
And an audio recorder.
Claire lifted the photograph first.
It showed Daniel Donovan standing beside a much younger Gabriel.
A third man stood with them.
Thomas Rourke.
On the back, Daniel had written:
THE MAN WHO BETRAYED US ISN’T IN THIS PHOTO.
Claire looked at Gabriel.
Then she pressed play on the recorder.
Static crackled.
Her father’s voice filled the basement.
“Claire, if you’re hearing this, Ghost came back.”
She covered her mouth.
Daniel continued.
“And if Ghost came back, the person who ordered my death has finally made his move.”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
Gabriel whispered, “Kill the lights.”
May you like
Darkness swallowed the basement.
Someone was already inside the house.
