Eye for an Eye, an (Heroes of Quantico Book #2): A Novel Read Online Free

in the investigation. Mark assumed they’d consider it a joint investigation with the Oakdale PD, at least until they got a better handle on the target and motive.
    In the meantime, his high-profile position and recent media exposure would mean serious involvement from the higher-ups back East.
    As the EMT working on Mark’s arm taped a final strip of gauze in place, Mark’s roommate joined them. He tossed a T-shirt at Mark and shook his head. “And you thought St. Louis would be quieter than Quantico.”
    Mark pulled the shirt over his head and scowled at Special Agent Nick Bradley. With his startling blue eyes, sandy hair, and lean, athletic build, he was the epitome of the all-American boy—and he’d taken plenty of ribbing for that at the academy, where he and Mark had been in the same new agent training class. When Nick had offered him a spare bedroom in his house for the duration of his St. Louis assignment, Mark had accepted without hesitation.
    “They’re setting up a command center over there.” Steve indicated a cordoned-off area surrounded by emergency vehicles, shielded as much as possible from the media trucks already converging on the scene. “Let’s head over and get Quantico on the phone.”
    “Give me a minute.”
    Without waiting for a response, Mark turned toward Emily.
    The EMTs had put her on the gurney and were preparing to transport.
    “How is she?” He addressed his question to the closest technician. “The bleeding’s under control and she’s stable. But she lost a lot of blood.” The man took a look at Mark’s hands, withdrew a pack of sterile wipes from his kit, and held it out. “Some of it’s on you.”
    For the first time, Mark noticed the burgundy stains on his skin. He took the pack and ripped it open, cleaning up as best he could. But it would take a thorough washing to remove the traces of Emily’s blood from his hands. And he had no idea how to wash away the taste of fear that lingered in his mouth.
    “Is she conscious?”
    “Barely.”
    “Can I have thirty seconds?”
    “No more.”
    Moving beside her, Mark took her hand. She remained pale as death, and her tank top, pristine white half an hour ago, was soaked with blood on one side. Leaning close, he brushed the hair back from her forehead and spoke softly.
    “Em?”
    Her lashes fluttered, and she struggled to focus. “Mark?”
    “Yeah. The EMTs are going to take you to the hospital now.
    I’ll come by and see you later.”
    “Give me a . . . rain check on that frappuccino, okay?” She tried to smile.
    “You got it.”
    The EMTs moved into place, and after an encouraging squeeze, Mark released her hand.
    “You ready to try and find this guy?” Nick moved beside him as they watched Emily being wheeled away.
    “Oh yeah.” Mark’s mouth settled into a grim line. “More than ready.”
    The command center was teeming with activity when Mark and Nick ducked under the yellow police tape. Steve was already putting through the call to Quantico, and he placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “Go ahead and pick up the other line, Mark. We’re both patched in.”
    Mark took the phone from the communications specialist. A few seconds later, Les Coplin’s familiar, gruff voice came over the line. A one-time green beret and former HRT operator, he’d headed the Hostage Rescue Team for the past three years. His stocky build, close-cropped gray hair, and square jaw—plus his tenacious determination—had earned him the nickname Bulldog.
    “You there, Mark?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Steve’s filled me in on the basics. What’s your take on this?”
    The man’s clipped, cut-to-the-chase attitude reminded Mark that while he might be a victim in this incident, he was also expected to provide a professional assessment.
    Shifting gears, he considered Les’s question. His initial theory had been that the shooting was random, perpetrated by some nut who’d decided he’d had enough and wasn’t going to take it