“Please tell me that you haven’t been operating on anyone in that getup.” Lila slid her hand toward her gun holster. She cursed silently when she found her Colt missing. Some well-meaning nurse had set it on the room’s back counter.
Tristan yanked the mask free and shoved it in the back pocket of his scrubs. “You’re awake early. That’s good, right?”
“Neither good nor bad.” Lila shrugged, squinting at his face. “Are you wearing makeup?”
“Maybe. Do you honestly think that Sergeant Stick Up His Ass wouldn’t notice the black eye? Do you honestly think that he would have let me in?”
“That’s Lieutenant Stick Up His Ass.”
“Whatever.” Tristan’s gaze fell to the baggie containing the AAS flyer. “Good. They found it.”
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. My people are worried that this heat over the bombing won’t go away until they have suspects in custody. When I saw that guy bleeding on the street, I thought he might be our ticket out of the heat. The AAS doesn’t just do bombings now. They’ve gone in for assassinations. At least it’ll muddy the waters.”
Lila thumbed the edge of her holster, eyes fixed on the AAS flyer. “It certainly has.”
Tristan cocked his head, noticing the placement of her hand under the blanket. “Damn it, Lila. You think that guy worked for me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is that Chief Shaw will be looking at me much more carefully for the bombing. I’ve been his only suspect for days, and now I turn up with one of those damn flyers he can’t seem to find anywhere else, and I’m not shot but tranqed? That’s convenient, don’t you think? It’s almost as if someone planned it that way.”
“You’re not a suspect. You’re a target now.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what he’ll believe. I’m sure that’s what you were going for.”
Tristan sat on the side of the bed. “You still don’t trust me. Even after all this time. I don’t even know what to say to that.”
A wave of nausea rolled over Lila. She gripped the basin, but refused to throw up in front of Tristan and give him the pleasure. “You shot Peter?” she asked through gritted teeth, changing the subject.
“Peter? Peter who?”
“Peter Kruger.”
“That was Peter Kruger?” Tristan whipped out his palm and swiped at the screen. “I didn’t shoot him. I just thought he’d make a good scapegoat. I didn’t care who he was. The asshole tried to kill you. We thought he’d likely die anyway. I had no idea…”
“If you didn’t shoot him, who did?”
Tristan slipped his palm back into his pocket. “Dixon. I didn’t know that he followed me. He was on the next roof, waiting for us to finish our…discussion. He’s the one who saw Peter. I tried to get down there in time—”
“Seems like you did.”
“No. Dixon stayed on the roof to cover me. He was too far away for a dart, though. I pinned the flyer on you, and we took Peter with us. Doc’s trying to save him. I hope he fails.”
“I owe Dixon my life. Tell him I said thanks, will you? It might be days before I see him again.” Lila pushed the basin away, dizziness fading, and finished the rest of her water. Things made more sense now. Perhaps she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, but it wasn’t her fault. Tristan brought it on himself, over and over.
He took the empty cup from her lap. “So who do you think sent Peter?” he asked as he refilled it from a pitcher beside her Colt.
“Chairwoman Wilson. She called a hacker named Zephyr to deal with me.”
“Are you sure it’s Zephyr?”
“Yes. What do you know of him?”
“Enough to know that he doesn’t kill people—at least, not in any of the stories I’ve heard. Why would Peter Kruger take orders from a hacker?”
“Not from him. From the chairwoman. Zephyr just told her how to fix the problem.”
“Okay, so why would Peter Kruger commit murder for her? He could win his freedom for blowing the whistle on a highborn, German citizen or not.”