His Target: The Downing Family Book 4 Read online

  Cocking my head, I leaned forward. “How do you know that?”

  “People talk,” she mumbled with a lopsided shrug. “And the hospital CEO is a bit of…” She hesitated and looked around. “He’s something of a jerk himself.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s entitled to ignore a discrimination claim that’s been filed with human resources,” I argued.

  “No, he’s not. But it doesn’t mean you’ll get anywhere with trying to file that complaint, either.” Anneke looked at me with tired eyes. “Sometimes, shit happens, and we’re just stuck with no other choice but to deal with it.”

  Two

  Cormac

  The phone rang.

  The early morning Miami sunshine cut through the windows and hit my tired eyes as I rolled onto my stomach and shoved my head under the pillow.

  It might be daylight out, but it was too fucking early for me.

  If I had to surface before noon, I wasn’t happy.

  The moment the phone stopped ringing, I slid back into sleep.

  It seemed I’d no sooner closed my eyes than the damn phone started ringing again.

  “What the fuck!”

  My shout echoed around the spartan apartment in which I crawled into bed each night. I’d been living here for over a year, but I couldn’t exactly call it home.

  It was entirely possible I could have had a home slap me in the face before I recognized it, though. Even when I’d lived with my parents, I’d never really felt all that welcome, and that’s what a home was, right? Someplace you belonged.

  This was just a place to crash and eat. It was empty, although not exactly quiet, thanks to the sounds of the city that came through the windows. It was just how I liked it.

  At least, it was just how I liked it when the damn cell phone wasn’t ringing.

  The bloody thing went quiet just as I sat up to glare at it.

  I’d no sooner than put my feet on the floor when it started ringing again. Whoever was calling wasn’t going to stop until I answered. That narrowed the list of possible callers down quite a bit.

  Those few who’d be that persistent were more than likely calling about something important. Either a job or a problem.

  With a sigh, I grabbed the phone and stabbed my finger at the screen.

  “Yeah,” I said in lieu of a greeting.

  “You sure as hell took long enough.”

  I rolled my eyes at the irritated—and irritating—voice. “I was sleeping,” I said. “Late night.”

  “When somebody calls to offer you the kind of money I’m calling to offer, you should try to be a little more on the ball.”

  I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, resisting the urge to tell the asshole on the other end of the line to shove off. “As I said, late night. It happens in my line of work. Oh, well. What’s the job?”

  He went on to recount the details, ending with a number. That number was how much I’d be paid on completion of the job. “Any operating capital?” I asked. I never took jobs where they expected me to do all the work on my own dime. Wasn’t worth it.

  “Yes.” He offered another figure.

  If he wasn’t such a dick, I might have whistled in sheer surprise. “How much of a cut are you taking?”

  “My cut has already been taken into account.” He sounded smug. “All that green will be yours when you finish the job.”

  I scraped my nails over my stubbled cheek, pondering. It didn’t take long to make up my mind. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” There was a brief pause, then he added, “I’ll start making the arrangements.”

  I grunted my understanding and disconnected the line. I climbed from the bed, muscles protesting the movement. My first few steps were awkward, my legs feeling oddly heavy, although I knew the problem. I’d been up way too late, I’d drank way too much, and I’d ended the night with a brawl.

  I rubbed my jaw in memory of the punch the other bastard had thrown. It had been his only decent shot, but it had felt like he might have just knocked my head off my shoulders if he’d just hit a little harder.

  I took some comfort in knowing that my opponent was feeling a lot worse than I was. The thought made me smile in amusement, and that was the look I saw on my face when I looked in the mirror.

  My brown eyes were bloodshot with shadows beneath them. I was in bad need of a haircut, my shaggy, reddish-brown hair falling over my brow, long enough to completely cover my eyebrows.

  Turning my face, I studied my jaw, and sure enough, my skin had gone the familiar, purply-blue of a bruise under the stubble.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

  Without giving it another thought, I turned and shuffled into the shower. I’d fallen asleep naked, so I didn’t have to worry about stripping out of my clothes, which was a good thing. The various aches and bruises would have made that task torture.

  Turning up the water as hot as I could stand it, I lifted my face to the spray, determined to wash away the cobwebs in my brain.

  I had a job, and I needed to be ready to handle it.

  I didn’t have time for a hangover, bruises, or aches.

  Three

  Briar

  Two tubs of take-out from my favorite Chinese restaurant sat in front of me. I shoved my fork into the box that held noodles and chicken and twirled it. Mid-twirl, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen, then grabbed it when I saw it was one of my brother’s—my favorite brother, really. Not that I’d ever tell the other two, but Brooks and I were closer, always had been.

  Leaving the fork in the box of noodles, I answered. “So, how is married life treating you, honey?”

  “Just fine,” Brooks said, and I could practically hear the grin in the words. The pure satisfaction in his voice made me smile. “And how is life as a doctor treating you?”

  “Great,” I said, hoping my general frustration with my current job didn’t show in my voice.

  I must have done a good enough job acting because Brooks didn’t push for more details. “Listen, I was calling about a thing Daria is putting together. It’s just dinner with some of our friends, but I wanted to invite you.” He hesitated, then added, “It would mean a lot if you could come. She’s nervous as hell nobody will.”

  “Of course, I’ll come.” I grabbed a nearby pen and the closest piece of paper on hand. It happened to be one of the napkins that had been included with my food. “Give me the details.”

  After scrawling the information on the makeshift notepad, I leaned back in my seat. “How is Daria doing at the new school?”

  “She’s loving it,” Brooks said, a note of relief in his voice.

  When the two first met, Daria had been attending a ballet academy in New York City on an educational visa. I didn’t know what the details were—my brothers kept a lot of things from me, even Brooks. It irritated me to no end, but I knew they were doing it to protect me. My family had…unusual connections and business practices. I kept as far away from it as I could because, otherwise, I’d have to look at things I didn’t want to look at and think about things I’d rather not know.

  But something had happened that had caused problems for Daria, then the school was abruptly closed.

  Thanks to all my brothers’ and my father’s connections, they were able to get Daria immediately enrolled in a local academy here in Philadelphia. Isabel, my other sister-in-law, who was married to my younger brother Sean, had also been enrolled.

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, picking up my fork to stab at the noodles. One of my friends had been on the waiting list to get into the academy for almost a year, so I had no doubt my family had intervened for Daria and Isabel.

  The part of me that wanted to believe life was fair was very unhappy with the knowledge. Not because I wasn’t happy that Daria and Isabel had found a new academy, but because I knew they hadn’t taken the right route to get to where they were, while so many others, like my friend, had.

  Brooks must have picked up on the general direction of my thoughts
because he quickly changed the subject. “So, what’s it like working in the ER at that swanky hospital?”

  “It’s…interesting,” I said, careful to keep my voice neutral. If I was honest, it was nothing like what I’d hoped it would be, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on the source of my displeasure. And as much as he pissed me off, Henderson wasn’t that source.

  He was an annoyance and a nuisance. An all-around pain in the ass, if I was being honest.

  But I couldn’t go into detail about the things happening with Henderson. Brooks wasn’t just protective of me. If he had his way, and if it wouldn’t make me miserable, I’d sit around in our sprawling family home and attend lunches and committees and all that shit that any number of socialites did. While I doubted he’d let himself lose it if he heard about how Henderson had been treating me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he found a way to make the man’s life…difficult.

  And I didn’t want that. I’d been trying to handle my own problems and maintain my independence for too long.

  “Interesting…how?” Brooks asked.

  I went with a somewhat safe and amusing anecdote, telling him about the young mother who’d brought her baby into the ED after the infant hadn’t been able to move her bowels for three days. I’d happened to be in the room when a nurse checked the baby’s temperature—rectally—and I’d just barely avoided the poop spray that happened a few minutes later.

  “That’s…gross,” Brooks said finally.

  I grinned, thinking of all the even grosser stories I could tell. “Hey, brother, pooping is a natural part of life.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it,” he muttered.

  My cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling so hard. “Just consider it payback for all the times I had to listen to the farting contests you used to have with Sean.”

  He groaned. “I was like ten. Are you ever going to forget that?”

  “No,” I said after pretending to ponder it for a while. He laughed, and after the sound faded, I asked him the question that had been burning inside me. “Which one of you had a hand in the hospital offering me a job after I finished my residency?”

  The question caught Brooks off-guard. “What?”

  “Don’t lie to me,” I said with a sigh. “The place I’m at is one of the most highly coveted locations in the region. There are doctors far more qualified and experienced than I am who’d love to work there. So…which one of you nudged a CEO or CFO in my direction?”

  “You’re also probably one of the brightest doctors in the country, Briar. Or did you forget you’re a certified genius?”

  I wasn’t distracted by the comment. “Answer me, Brooks.”

  “Hell, Briar.” He grumbled under his breath, then said, “Dad might have said something to one of his golfing buddies.”

  “Which one?” I demanded.

  “The CFO of the hospital.” Brooks almost sounded sheepish. “They’ve been golfing together for years, and Dad’s had Declan offer some stock market tips to the guy.”

  I rubbed my temple as I stared at the table. It hadn’t been my merit that had landed me that job. I’d suspected it for a while but hearing the confirmation of it was enough to piss me off.

  “What’s wrong, Briar?”

  I almost lied. I almost told him nothing was wrong, but in the end, I found myself telling the truth. “I don’t know if I’m happy there, Brooks.”

  “Why not?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “You said yourself, lots of doctors would love to be on staff there.”

  Lots of doctors hadn’t spent most of their lives trying to find something fulfilling—something that just might negate some of the harm I suspected my family had caused with their various ‘business’ activities. I carried inside me a well of guilt over the things they’d likely done. Even not knowing the details, I knew my family was involved in criminal activity. And criminal activity always left victims in their wake.

  “I’m just…I don’t know. At loose ends,” I finally said. “I’ve spent my whole life working toward this, and now that I’m here, I have to wonder if I’m even making a difference.”

  “You’re a doctor, Briar. You work in an ER. How can you not be making a difference?” he asked.

  “It’s ED these days, brother. Emergency department.” I scowled at the prissy tone of my voice, although I knew it was a self-protective measure.

  “Fine. You work in an ED. How can you not be making a difference?”

  I thought of the way some of my fellow doctors in the ED reacted when confronted with certain cases. I thought of the type of patients I’d longed to treat. But not a lot of gunshot victims or other various types of severe trauma ended up at Green Valley. It was tucked away in one of the posher areas of Philadelphia.

  While there were definitely emergency cases, I knew the hospital’s locale meant it wouldn’t be the number one trauma center in the area. Trauma centers were often in downtown locations or other areas with high populations. That was why they specialized in trauma. A great number of trauma cases went through the ED of an urban hospital.

  “I just think I could do something…more,” I said. I stabbed at the noodles in the container again, my appetite all but gone. “You know, one of the doctors at the ED left a few months before I finished my residency. Raisa Kaplan. She’s working downtown. She’s the medical director in the ED.” I named the hospital.

  As predicted, Brooks muttered something I couldn’t understand before heaving out a long breath and continuing in a normal voice, “You know, Dad would have a coronary if you went to work there.”

  I made a face at the phone. “I’m a grown woman, Brooks. I get to decide where I work.”

  “And you want to work in the center of a fucking war zone?”

  “Actually…I’m thinking I might,” I said softly. “Raisa called me a week ago. Said she’d kept an eye on me and thought I’d make a great trauma surgeon. She asked if I’d be interested in coming to work for her there.”

  “And you’re interested,” Brooks said slowly.

  “I don’t know yet,” I confessed. “But toothaches, sore throats, constipated babies, and the occasional case of appendicitis aren’t exactly what I foresaw when I went into medical school, Brooks.”

  And that was a complete understatement.

  Four

  Cormac

  The bright morning sunshine all but blinded me as the cab pulled out into the traffic surrounding the Philadelphia International Airport. I’d been up at the crack of dawn so I could catch my flight. As a result, I was both tired and hungry. The pathetic ‘snacks’ offered on flights these days weren’t even worthy of the name, so I hadn’t bothered ordering anything but a couple of whiskeys. Sure, it might seem early to be drinking, but if I had to be in the air before eight in the morning, I figured I fucking deserved alcohol.

  It was probably a mix of the booze on an empty stomach, the growling of that empty stomach, and lack of sleep that was behind the massive headache I was dealing with.

  It was probably going to get worse too. I’d gotten seven calls while in the air, and any number of messages. The calls were from two numbers. Most were from the guy who had offered me the job, and the rest were from my contact in Philadelphia, Jerrel Waddell. The texts were all from Waddell. They started innocuously enough, asking when I was supposed to be in. Each time I didn’t answer a text, they grew more and more rude until the final one.

  Where the fuck are you? I ain’t got all day to wait around for you.

  More than likely, I was going to be working with an asshole.

  Just as I finished skimming the messages, another one popped up. Once I saw it was from Waddell, I didn’t even bother reading it. I just deleted it and hit reply on the last one.

  My plane just landed, pal. I dunno if you’ve flown recently, but there aren’t a lot of cell phone towers floating around in the sky.

  After I hit send, I looked at the cabbie. His eyes bounced nervously away from the mirror w
here he had apparently been watching me. “How much longer, you think?”

  “Thirty minutes, sir,” he said, his voice heavily accented.

  I just nodded, then punched the ETA into the phone. After that, I dropped it on the seat next to me and closed my eyes.

  It seemed like I’d no sooner done that than the taxi came to an abrupt halt. I rubbed at my heavy lids as I pushed up in the seat and looked around.

  Just outside the door, I saw a storefront for a tattoo parlor. I scowled at the name of the store.

  Rudy’s.

  That was all it said.

  I guess we were at the right place. The info I’d gotten had been that I’d be meeting my contact at Rudy’s, although I’d stupidly assumed Rudy’s would be somebody’s home, not a tattoo parlor.

  A timid voice came from the front of the taxi, and I looked up to see the man pointing at the display that showed the money owed. I fished a few bills out and paid the fare, then climbed out without waiting for the change.

  The cabbie pulled away so fast, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d left rubber on the street. I hitched my pack up on my shoulder and started inside.

  It was loud and busy in the shop. My appearance didn’t seem to catch anybody’s attention, not even the blonde sitting slumped on a stool behind the counter as she thumbed through a magazine.

  “Hey.”

  She glanced up at me in bored disinterest before almost immediately turning her attention back to the magazine. But almost as soon as her eyes hit the page, she was looking back at me. Her entire demeanor changed, and she put the magazine down on the counter as she turned to face me. “Well, hello there, gorgeous,” she said, a smile curving her lips. She leaned forward, the low, scooped neck of her tank top showcasing braless breasts and several tattoos. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Jerrel,” I said.