Chapter 11 - WILLA REFUSED TO LET HIM DIE
“No pulse.”
The medic’s voice was flat.
Willa began compressions.
“Everett!”
Thirty compressions.
Two breaths.
Again.
Blood covered her hands.
Tomas stood nearby, frozen.
“Willa.”
“Don’t.”
She continued.
“Willa, the bullet—”
“Don’t you dare.”
She pressed harder.
“Get me epinephrine.”
The medic moved.
Everett remained still.
Willa remembered the altar.
His motionless hand.
The promise she had whispered.
I won’t laugh at you.
Then the night his finger moved.
The first word.
Run.
She pressed again.
“You fought eight months.”
Nothing.
“You are not dying now.”
The medic prepared medication.
Willa administered it.
Tomas looked toward the hallway.
“We need a surgeon.”
“Get one.”
“Willa—”
“GET ONE!”
Tomas made the call.
Two minutes passed.
Then three.
Willa’s arms burned.
The monitor remained flat.
The medic looked at her.
“We’re past—”
“Shut up.”
Another compression.
Then—
Beep.
Willa froze.
Beep.
A weak rhythm appeared.
The medic checked.
“Pulse.”
Willa nearly fell.
“Get him to surgery.”
“Where?”
Tomas entered.
“I found someone.”
Twenty-five minutes later, an underground veterinary surgical suite on a Kane-owned horse farm became an operating room.
The surgeon was not a veterinarian.
Dr. Elena Marquez had once been one of Chicago’s best trauma surgeons.
She had disappeared from public medicine after refusing to falsify a report involving one of Sterling’s associates.
Everett had secretly paid her legal fees.
Now she stood over him.
“I need blood.”
Tomas had already arranged it.
Willa refused to leave.
Marquez looked at her.
“You medical?”
“Former ICU nurse.”
“Then scrub.”
Willa did.
For four hours, they fought.
The bullet had torn through Everett’s liver.
He lost blood rapidly.
Twice his pressure collapsed.
Twice they brought it back.
Finally, near dawn, Marquez removed her gloves.
“He’s alive.”
Willa sat down.
Her knees stopped working.
“Will he stay alive?”
Marquez looked at her.
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Willa nodded.
“Neither do I.”
Outside, Tomas waited.
His shoulder had finally been bandaged.
Ruth slept nearby.
Willa sat opposite him.
“The ledger.”
Tomas sighed.
“You heard Sterling.”
“Is it real?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
Tomas looked toward Everett’s room.
“Bad enough to burn half the city.”
Willa closed her eyes.
“And Everett used it?”
“To survive.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Tomas watched her.
“You want me to tell you Everett is secretly a good man.”
“I want the truth.”
“The truth is he has ordered people hurt.”
“He has bribed officials.”
“He has threatened enemies.”
“He has made money from things you wouldn’t approve of.”
Willa stared down at her bloodstained hands.
Tomas continued.
“But he also spent the last five years trying to move the organization away from narcotics and trafficking.”
“He refused to touch women or kids.”
“He killed business with crews that did.”
“Sterling hated it.”
“Why?”
“Because Sterling didn’t want rules.”
Willa remembered his cruelty.
That made sense.
Tomas leaned forward.
“Everett isn’t innocent.”
“No one here is.”
“But Sterling is something else.”
Willa looked toward the operating room.
“Why was Everett investigating Whitfield?”
“Because Whitfield was helping Sterling eliminate problems.”
“Patients?”
“Witnesses.”
“Employees.”
“People who knew too much.”
Willa felt nauseated.
“Harold Fisk.”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
“You were collateral.”
That hurt almost more.
Her life had been destroyed simply because she had been convenient.
Tomas handed her a flash drive.
“Everett asked me to give you this if he died.”
Willa stared.
“When?”
“Before the accident.”
“He didn’t know me.”
“He knew your case.”
She took the drive.
“What’s on it?”
“Evidence clearing your name.”
Willa couldn’t speak.
“He had it?”
“He was still building the case.”
“Then the accident happened.”
Willa looked toward Everett.
Even before meeting her, he had been trying to prove she was innocent.
Tomas stood.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We found Sterling’s phone after the shooting.”
Willa looked up.
“He left it?”
“Probably dropped it.”
“There was one recent outgoing call.”
“To who?”
Tomas handed her the screen.
GRANT ALLISON.
The hospital administrator.
The man who had helped destroy Willa’s nursing career.
Tomas looked at her.
“Sterling is going back to St. Ambrose.”
Willa understood immediately.
“He’s destroying evidence.”
“Exactly.”
She stood.
“We go now.”
Tomas looked toward Everett.
“He wouldn’t want you anywhere near there.”
Willa took the gun from the table.
“Everett isn’t awake to argue.”
A weak voice came from the doorway.
“Wrong.”
Willa turned.
Everett stood there.
Barely.
One hand gripping the frame.
Hospital gown.
Pale as death.
Furious.
“You’re not going.”
Willa stared at him.
“You were shot four hours ago.”
Everett swayed.
Willa ran forward and caught him.
“You idiot.”
“Still not going.”
She helped him back to bed.
“You literally died.”
“Briefly.”
Tomas laughed.
Willa glared at him.
He stopped.
Everett looked at her.
“I’ll handle Allison.”
“No.”
“You are not part of this.”
Willa stared at him.
“My career.”
“My mother.”
“My name.”
“My life.”
She leaned closer.
“I was part of this three years before you married me.”
Everett didn’t respond.
Willa continued.
“You don’t get to decide I’m too fragile now.”
His eyes softened.
“I know you’re not fragile.”
“Then stop treating me like I am.”
Everett looked away.
Willa understood.
He wasn’t trying to control her.
He was afraid.
For her.
She touched his hand.
“I’m going.”
Everett sighed.
“I hate being married.”
Willa almost smiled.
“You’ve been awake for two days.”
“Enough data.”
Then Tomas’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
Willa waited.
Tomas ended the call.
“St. Ambrose has a fire.”
Willa’s blood went cold.
May you like
“Records department.”
Sterling was burning the truth.
