her phone was still right where it was supposed to be. All she needed was an opportunity to use it. Knowing the situation inside would be incredibly useful for the police, particularly in determining how they made their grand entrance.
Her cell phone had vibrated about twenty times. Probably her sister, Lena. An investigative journalist at a local television station, Lena had no doubt heard about the trouble at the Edge. The best journalists had good contacts within Chicago PD and the Edge always had news. A Level I Trauma test unit challenging the approach to emergency medicine, the Edge was the only one of its kind in the nation.
Eva glanced toward the rear of the emergency department and the door that led into the main corridor that flowed into imaging and the surgery suite, winging off to the Behavioral Unit on the left and Administration to the right. Then she surveyed the ongoing activity between her and the double doors that opened into the lobby area. The man in charge and his cohorts were in deep conversation with the three other patients who hadn’t been moved on to another level of care. Dr. Frasier was suturing the wound of one while Dr. Reagan was doing the same with another. Kim Levy, a nurse and Eva’s friend, was bandaging the third patient’s closed wound.
Eva eased back a step and then another. Four more steps and she would be through the door and into the corridor beyond the emergency department. Slow, deep breaths. No sudden moves. Another step, then another, and she was out the door.
Eva whirled away from the softly closing door and ran to the ladies’ room. She couldn’t lock the door since it didn’t have one—no one wanted a patient to lock him or herself in the bathroom. Inside there were, however, two stalls with slide locks.
She slipped into the second one and snapped the stall latch into place, then sat on the closed toilet lid and pulled her knees to her chest so no one coming in would see her feet. She tugged her cell phone from its holster at her ankle and saw four missed calls and six text messages from her sister. She didn’t dare make a voice call so she sent a text to her sister and asked her to update the police on the situation inside the ER. Three uninjured gunmen. Four injured with guns, five others currently unarmed and in imaging or an OR. One injured guard. Both guards incapacitated.
A few seconds later, Lena told her to stay calm and to keep a low profile. Help was already on-site. Daring to relax the tiniest bit, Eva slid the phone back into its holster.
All she had to do was stay calm. Easy enough. She stepped off the seat.
The sound of the door opening sent fear exploding in her veins. She flushed the toilet, took a breath and exited the stall.
The man she thought to be in charge waited for her. He leaned against the door, the weapon in his hand lying flat against his chest. She decided that all the intruders were under thirty. This one looked to be early twenties. Though he appeared younger than the others, he was clearly the boss.
Eva steadied herself. “This is the ladies’ room.” She stared at him. “Baño femenino.”
He laughed. “Si.”
Oh crap. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward the door...toward him. “I need to be back out there helping your friends.”
He shook his head. “There is plenty help already.”
Eva swallowed back the scream mushrooming in her throat. There was no one to hear. This jerk was slightly taller than her five-seven. He was heavier and more muscled than her for sure, and a hell of a lot meaner. But she might be able to take him...if not for the gun.
As if he’d read her mind, he smiled and pointed the muzzle at her head. “On your knees, bitch.”
The shaking started so deep inside her that she wondered how she remained standing, yet somehow she did. “The police are coming.” The words shook, too, but she couldn’t keep her voice steady if her life depended on it. Right now the ability to continue breathing might very well depend on her next word or move. “If you’re smart, you’ll tell your friends and you’ll run. Now, while you still can.”
He nodded, that nasty grin still stretched across his lips. “Yes,” he agreed, the word sounding more like des with his thick accent.
Since he made no move to rush to his friends and warn them, her advice had clearly fallen on deaf ears. “So you don’t care if you get caught?” She shrugged. “You want to go to prison? Then you can be somebody’s bitch.”
He charged toward her, pinned her to the counter of the row of sinks behind her. Of their own volition, her hands shot up in surrender. “Just trying to help you out. You...you don’t want the police to show up and find you distracted. If you go now, they won’t catch you.”
She hoped like hell the guy had enough self-preservation instinct to realize she had a valid point.
“You talk a lot for a dead girl,” he growled as he jammed the muzzle against her temple now. “You give me some of that—” he slid his free hand down her belly, forcing it between her thighs “—with no trouble and I’ll be gone so fast you’ll still be begging for more.”
Trapped between him and the counter with his damned gun pointed at her brain, she couldn’t move, didn’t dare scream. Her heart flailed against her sternum. Stay calm. Your fear makes him stronger.
“Okay, okay.” This close she smelled the whiskey on his breath, could fully comprehend just how inebriated he was. Bleary eyes. Slurred speech. No wonder he wasn’t worried about the police. She drew in a shaky breath. Play along until you come up with a better plan. “What do you want?”
He laughed. “Suck me.”
She nodded as she slowly lowered her hands. The muzzle bored into her skull a little harder as she reached for his fly. He was fully erect, bulging against his jeans. Bile rose in her throat as she unfastened the button, then lowered the zipper. She told herself over and over she had no choice as she reached into his open fly. He didn’t have on any underwear so he was right there. She closed the fingers of her right hand around him while somehow managing to restrain the shudder of revulsion.
In hopes of putting off what he really wanted, her hand started to move. He made a satisfied sound, his eyes partially closing. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good start.”
She worked her hand back and forth faster and faster, felt his body tense. Watched his eyes drift completely shut.
Now or never.
Eva ducked her head, jammed her left shoulder into his gut and pushed with every ounce of her body weight. At the same time, she released his penis and grabbed his testicles and twisted as hard as she could.
He screamed.
The weapon discharged.
The mirror over the sinks shattered.
He grabbed at her; she twisted her upper body out of reach, spinning them both around. The muzzle stabbed at her chest; she leaned away from the gun and rammed into him even harder. Another shot exploded into the air as they both went down. His head hit the counter, making a solid thump as his neck twisted sharply. They crashed to the cold tile floor. The air grunted out of her lungs. Eva was still squeezing his balls when she realized he was no longer moving.
Disentangling herself from him, she scooted a few feet away. His eyes blinked, once, twice...he mumbled something she couldn’t
