I carefully pulled out the flash drive tucked in my front pocket as he pulled
the zipper farther down. We swapped the drives. Just because I was okay playing
bait for Bosch didn’t mean it was worth risking the actual information.
Hopefully, Bosch would have no idea what the actual drive looked like. Once the
exchange was complete, Rabbit mouthed, “Sorry, ” and re-zipped the bag closed.
The ambulance made a sharp turn as it headed into the emergency bay at the
hospital. Moments later the ambulance doors opened again. Then I was on a hard
surface, wheels rattling across rough concrete, only smoothing out once it hit the
interior. Around me, I could hear Rabbit explaining this was one of three incoming DB’s. There was some wrangling about the immediate delivery to the
morgue for holding, but eventually Rabbit got his way.
A few more rattling minutes passed before I was lifted and laid on a very hard surface. A chill crept over my back. Once more the zipper came down, stopping at the top of my shoulders. Then Rabbit left me alone in a cold, silent
room.
Barely lifting my lids, I confirmed I was really alone before I pulled my gun
from my back and held it under my hip. No way did I want to face Bosch without some sort of weapon. I checked my mental shields, the way Wolf had shown me, ensuring they were still holding strong. This time, when I found Kayden’s subtle glow, it didn’t freak me out. Instead, it steadied me. Contrary to
appearances, I wasn’t alone. Not really.
Then came the hardest part of being bait—waiting.
Five minutes ticked by.
Then ten.
Just as the fifteen-minute mark came around, a soft click in my still
functioning communication unit ignited the soft hum of anticipation. I slowed my breathing just as I did when I sighted down a scope and sank into that lethal
quiet. The soft swish of the door opening sent a curl of cold air drifting over me.
My hand wrapped over the familiar contours of my gun. The nearby air
displaced as someone came to stand at my side. I held my breath as the zipper
inched downward. When it parted enough to reveal my chest, a soft, excited hiss
sounded.
Yep, no way in hell that belonged to a morgue attendant.
The zipper continued its sibilant descent. The heavy material stayed over my
arms but stopped just above my knees.
Good enough.
A hand slid over my waist, going for my left pocket. The same one I
deliberately slipped the drive into when I was at the garage. I struck out, grabbing the thumb and bending it backward with a brutal jerk. At the same time, I yanked Bosch across my waist, pulling him off balance. His hoarse yell
echoed weirdly.
No one expected a dead body to come to life.
I kept ahold of his thumb, and rolled off the far side of the table, dragging
him, me, and the bag to the floor. It hurt like a bitch when I hit, but I landed so my shoulder and hip took the brunt of the impact. I let Bosch go as I continued
my roll out of the bag and away from the metal table now leaning drunkenly on
its side. I came up to my knees and brought the Sig up in a two-handed grip.
Bosch kicked free of the table, sending it screeching across the floor.
“Don’t.” My warning froze him in mid push-up position.
His body might have stopped, but he had other weapons at his disposal. I flinched as a searing pain smashed against my mind. The distraction gave him the time to push off the floor and slammed into me. We wrestled for control of
