Blonde Ops (15 page)

“Okay.”

We slipped through the crowds, Dante holding my hand. Good thing he knew his way around because I couldn't figure out what section of the hospital we were in or where we had to go. We passed little plaques screwed into the wall giving directions, but they were all in Italian. Maybe I should have spent more time with a copy of
Italian for Dummies
instead of trying to decipher menus and checking out delivery guys.

“
Cugino!
” A tall man, a little older than Dante, walked toward us.

“
Nunzio! Come sta?
” They hugged and back-slapped, grinning like they hadn't seen each other in a long time, even though Dante had to have talked to him to set this meeting up. They whispered in Italian, Nunzio giving me pointed looks. Dante pulled me closer.

“This, my cousin Nunzio. Nunzio, this is Bec.”

I smiled at Nunzio gratefully. “
Grazie
, Nunzio.”

“I'm happy to help you, but—” He quickly glanced around before pulling us over to a far wall, out of the way of passing people. His voice was hushed. “Before I take you up, I warn you…” He paused, and I felt needles of unease shoot up my spine. “If the
signora
upstairs is the person you're looking for, she's hurt. Very bad.”

If? I suppose there was always the possibility that the person he'd found was someone else, but my gut told me it was Parker.

“She was conscious when we bring her in, but the doctors, they give her sedative. For her own good.”

Nodding, I tried to choke back the heavy lump swelling in my throat.
Pull yourself together, Bec.

Nunzio shook his head. “It make no sense. She was wearing her seat belt. The car, it was smashed from hitting a stone wall. I smelled smoke, but there was no fire.…” He looked at me grimly. “She looks very bad. Okay, we go. Follow me.”

He led us to an elevator, waving and answering people's greetings as he passed.

Stuffed inside at first, we were the only ones left by the time it stopped on the fifth floor. The doors opened to a quiet hallway, but I heard hushed voices.

At the nurses' station, Nunzio stopped to smile and chat with the woman sitting behind the desk. He kept her totally distracted as he waved us on behind his back. Swiftly, and crouching low, we tiptoed by, Dante searching for a specific room number. With a furtive glance around, he opened the door to room 31, and we crept inside.

None of Nunzio's warnings prepared me for what I saw. I choked back the sob that had been growing inside me. On the bed, connected to tubes and wires and machines, lay Parker. Absolutely still, she looked like a wax figure: fragile, her beautiful skin lackluster, her brown eyes closed. Bandages swathed her head, starkly white against darkly bruised skin. I'd never seen anyone in such bad shape.

With trepidation, I moved closer. A chart hung next to the bed, and I picked it up.

“Don't touch anything!” Dante whispered, but I was too busy trying to read to listen to him. All of the information on it was in Italian, and here and there were the pen strokes of a doctor's scrawl. But the name at the top of the chart wasn't Parker's. It was Maria Castano.

I looked at her face again, just to make sure it was her. It was Parker, no mistaking it.

Leaning closer, I gulped hard, gripping the bed rail to steady myself. There were IV lines in her wrists and what looked like a drainage tube in her chest, held in place with surgical tape. Her hospital gown was open to accommodate the cyborglike equipment that snaked out of her body. Her chest was bruised and cut. I tried to look away, but I couldn't, my eyes drawn to a dark purple and mottled patch of skin unhidden by bandages or hospital gown. Checking it from different angles—as the bandages allowed—I almost swore it had a distinct shape. Like a shield, with a circle inside it. What
was
that?

I picked up her hand. It was cool to the touch, and I hated the way it felt so lifeless in mine. Fiddling with the plastic bracelet around her wrist, I caught sight of the name printed there. The same: Maria Castano.

Suddenly, she gasped, and I backed up a step just as every machine in the room started beeping and blaring. Lights flashed and a thunder of footsteps came from the hallway.

Three men and two women in scrubs burst into the room and crowded around Parker's bed.

“
Uscire!
” One of them shouted at us, then they all seemed to be barking orders to each other in Italian.

“They're telling us to get out,” said Dante, taking hold of my hand.

I edged closer to him and stood fast. “What are they doing? What are they saying?”

He watched them warily, shaking his head. We were supposed to be leaving.

“They said something about her head.”

One of the men pulled out a defibrillator and, tearing open Parker's gown, placed the pads on her chest. I clutched Dante's hand.

“And her chest, something with her chest…” said Dante.

I heard the hum of the defibrillator and then the buzz as the current jolted electricity into Parker. I saw her body jump.

Would she …
die
?

“Oh God!” I clamped my free hand over my mouth, and one of the nurses turned and saw us.

He squinted at me. “
Chi sei?
”

One of the women looked over. “
Cosa stai facendo qui?
”

“They want to know who we are and what we're doing here,” said Dante. His hand felt tense on my back. He was ready to run out and push me along with him.

“Maurizio! Philomena!”

Nurses, doctors, and technicians rushed to Parker's bed.

“Quick!” Dante's breath was hot on my cheek as he pushed me out of the room. “Security is coming!”

The drone of the machines screamed in my ears and didn't die away until we were far down the hall. Then I stopped. I couldn't leave without knowing if Parker was okay.

“Bec, we go. Now!” Dante said firmly, grasping my hand.

I tried to wrangle free from his grip. “No! You don't understand. I won't go. Not until I know if she's—”

He held on tightly. “I
do
understand. But we have to leave before we get caught.”

When he started walking away, I had no choice but to stumble after him. I didn't want either of us to get in trouble. Any publicity and Candace would definitely ship me back to the States, maybe in handcuffs, ending my investigation. Besides, now that I knew where Parker was, I'd find a way to come back. Then it would just be a matter of getting past the nurses.

Dante tugged me in the opposite direction of the nurses' station and into a stairwell. We raced to the ground floor and out into the lobby. All I could hear were fragments of Dante's words.

… head injury … chest injury …

And that bruise …

We barreled through the exit doors, out into the open air. I put my hands on my knees and bent over, breathing hard. When I straightened up, I saw Ortiz.

She blocked my path, hands on her hips—and she didn't look happy.

 

TRICKS AND TIPS FOR
THE EDGE-Y GIRL

Don't be a damsel in distress! Know how to take care of yourself. Fix a toilet. Change a tire. Be able to jump-start your car. Nothing is sexier than know-how.

15

How did Ortiz find me?

Duh. She's Secret Service. Of course the team would be checking on Parker. This was probably Ortiz's shift, and when I set all the alarms off, she was notified.

She fixed a cold eye on Dante. “Time to go home, Romeo.”

Romeo?

My cheeks burned with anger, but if she was letting him go, maybe it would end here and he wouldn't get in trouble. Me, on the other hand …

Nodding at him that it was okay, I gave his hand a quick squeeze. “See you tomorrow.”

I followed Ortiz outside where a black sedan that screamed
Secret Service car!
waited.

“Get in,” she snapped, pulling me by the elbow of my jacket. How much trouble was I in this time? I'd already bested the Suits once. They wouldn't take too kindly to it happening again.

We drove in silence for a while.

I was ninety-eight percent sure: Parker's accident was no accident. Whatever Candace said afterward, I knew what I'd heard in that warehouse. And Parker had been admitted to the hospital under a different name and far from the hotel or the magazine offices; there were at least two hospitals that were closer.

Despite these precautionary measures, Dante and I had been able to find her and walk into her room without anyone even trying to stop us. It was a weak link in their security chain. But neither Candace nor her Secret Service sidekicks would ever admit to that. I was in the same situation as the hackers who got a bad rap and were punished for exposing the screwups of the powers that be. Blame the whistle-blower instead of the bad guy.

Ortiz expertly navigated through the chaotic streets. Finally, she spoke. “I hope this little adventure of yours doesn't put Parker in more danger.”

Did this mean she wasn't going to turn me in? Why not—unless it would look bad, seeing as I slipped in to see Parker on her watch?

She sighed heavily and glanced in her rearview mirror before going into a traffic circle. “You know Parker well, don't you?”

I shrugged. “Not really. She was a friend of my mom's. I was supposed to stay with her for a while.”

Ortiz nodded. “Until your parents sort out where you're going to school next—we've all seen your file.”

I slumped in the seat.

“Relax,” Ortiz said with a slight smile. “Look. What I'm about to tell you is classified. Need-to-know only. Really, I shouldn't be telling you anything.”

Up went my feelers. When people said “I shouldn't tell you” but did anyway, it meant they wanted you to know—for a reason. But there was something in Ortiz's voice that gave me pause. What would she want me to know?

I said nothing, but stared straight ahead.

“See? You're smart. You know when to talk, and when to keep your mouth shut—but I can see you want to know, ‘Why would Ortiz tell me anything?' Am I right?” That made me look at her, and she nodded slowly. “I'll take a chance and trust you. Those skills of yours, they deserve respect—and the truth.”

“Go on,” I said, keeping my voice noncommittal and unimpressed. I was determined to check out everything she told me, in case she was trying out some reverse-psychology B.S. For all I knew, this was some sort of test. I wouldn't put that past Candace.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked over at me. “You are not to repeat a syllable of what I tell you now, understood?”

“I promise,” I said, trying to portray an earnestness that was believable.

She scrutinized my face, probably wondering if I really meant it.

“Really, I won't say anything. I know I'm in enough trouble already.”

“Good. I just wanted to hear you say it. Thinking it is one thing. You just gave me your word, and where I come from, your word is everything.”

Word up, Ortiz. Now spill the beans.

She took a deep breath. “The morning of the crash we were doing a security run-through. An agent will stand where the First Lady will be, and we check for places where a shooter can hide, see if the perimeter can be breached, that kind of thing. Parker was the stand-in for Mrs. Jennings. We were headed to the next location.”

Ortiz abruptly swerved out of the road and into a narrow, empty lane. My heart slammed into my throat as the car screeched to a stop. She clenched the wheel for a long moment before shutting the engine off. I heard her take a few long, deep breaths, then she cleared her throat.

“I was driving when the accident happened.” Her voice and face were strained.

I'd wanted Ortiz to spill what she knew. So far, her story and Candace's matched exactly.

“I was trained in extreme defensive driving,” Ortiz continued. “I should've been able to judge that the road was too narrow and then compensated when that scooter passed us.… I walked away, but now Parker's laid up in the hospital.”

“You were hurt too,” I reminded her.

“Not like she was.” She leaned back against the seat and, closing her eyes, let out a long breath. “She had her seat belt on, and I remember the car smelling like fire.”

“Sounds like electronics,” I ventured. “If something shorted, it could have fried the whole system to a crisp.”

Ortiz turned sideways to face me. “These cars were thoroughly checked out before we arrived. Everything was working perfectly.”

“Not if someone accessed the car's onboard port system after,” I said before I could stop myself.

Ortiz's smile was grim. “I guess you'd know about things like that. Tell me, what did your dad say when he found out that you'd experimented with his Lamborghini?”

Ah, that infamous file of mine.…
Was there anything they didn't know?! I thought Dad made a “donation” to have that hot-wiring incident disappear. “We're cool.”

“Show me what you know,” she said.

I laughed. “I can't just show you that here. Now. I mean—”

“Why not? Can't you do it?”

“I can,” I said—again before common sense told me to keep my mouth shut. Ortiz's eyebrows lifted in doubt. I didn't have much of a choice now. Stupid pride.

But I was going to get something out of this in exchange.

“Okay, I'll do it. But only if I have your word that my visit to Parker stays between you and me.”

She blew out a long breath, clearly debating with herself about my request.

“Come
on
. If anyone followed me here, wouldn't you have seen it? And she's my mom's friend, and … I don't want Dante to get into trouble.” I didn't want to say that I wouldn't go see Parker again—I had a feeling that Ortiz would hold me to that. I willed her to just agree.