Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane 1)

He blinked dry eyes a few times, his vision gradually clearing, the figure taking a man’s shape. Gray hair. An older doctor.

The figure picked up a pillow and walked closer. At first Nick thought he was going to make him sit up.

He opened his mouth to say, “I can’t.” But his voice sounded like rusted metal. He swallowed and tried again.

But his words were cut off when the pillow came down on his face. Nick reached for the man, but his arm was tethered by the IV. His free hand grabbed at the man’s shirt and pulled, but he had the strength of a newborn baby.

His lungs burned. The pain in his belly went ballistic.

But soon it would all be over. He gave up, stopped fighting, let go.

And waited for the end.

Chapter Forty

Morgan stepped out of the elevator. She couldn’t wait to tell Nick the DA had dropped the charges against him. She followed the signs to his room and walked inside.

A doctor was on top of Nick. At first, she thought maybe he was administering CPR, but then she saw the pillow over Nick’s face.

Oh my God.

He was trying to kill Nick.

She shook off her shock.

“Hey,” she yelled, grabbing the man by the back of his collar and pulling him off Nick. The man had been focused on smothering Nick, and she took him by surprise. He tumbled backward off the bed and onto the floor. His glasses flew across the room and his dark hair fell off, revealing a blond-and-silver head.

But Morgan had no time to stare at the wig on the floor.

Nick!

She lunged to his bedside.

“Help!” she screamed, hoping her voice would carry to the hallway. “Somebody help me in here.” Without turning her back to the man on the floor, Morgan snatched the pillow from Nick’s face.

Is he breathing?

She jabbed the call button with her forefinger. Come on. The attacker was scrambling to get his feet under his body. Morgan faced him, keeping her own body between him and Nick.

Shock rippled through her as she recognized Nick’s attacker.

Phillip Emerson.

Dressed in scrubs and a lab coat, he stood. His jawline was oddly puffy. He reached into his mouth and pulled out two wads of cotton.

“You bitch.” Emerson pulled a knife from the pocket of his lab coat.

The knife shone in the fluorescent light. Fresh fear washed over Morgan. She glanced around for a weapon or something to use as a shield. She couldn’t run. Nick would be defenseless. But there was nothing between her and Emerson.

Not. A. Damned. Thing.

Morgan couldn’t even reach the curtain that went around the bed. Sweat dripped down her back as her heart kicked into high gear. She had no weapon. No way of protecting herself or Nick.

“What’s wrong?” A nurse hurried through the doorway. Her momentum carried her to the foot of the bed before she realized what was happening and stopped. Her eyes opened wide in shock as she glanced between Emerson and Morgan.

“Get help!” Morgan yelled.

The nurse raced from the room.

Emerson lunged at Morgan. The knife beelined for her midsection. She barely blocked it with the back of her forearm.

But he came at her again. “You destroyed my life.”

Morgan wanted to respond, but her heart was pumping hard enough to make her breathless.

She had nowhere to go that didn’t leave Nick vulnerable. Never had she wished she had her weapon more than right at that moment. Fear turned her belly to ice. But as frightened as she was, she couldn’t run away.

She couldn’t let Emerson kill Nick.

A security guard appeared in the doorway, his weapon drawn and aimed at Emerson. “Stop right there. Put down the knife.”

But the guard’s hands were shaking so badly Morgan almost wished he’d put the gun away. He could just as easily shoot her or Nick as hit Emerson.

Emerson grabbed Morgan by the bicep and pulled her in front of him. Her back slammed into his chest. He put the knife to her throat, forcing her to be his human shield.

“Move out of the way or she’s dead,” he said, tightening his grip on her arm.

Emerson’s breath was hot in her ear, and the acrid scent of panic rose from his skin. He moved sideways, yanking her with him.

The guard kept his gun trained on Morgan and Emerson as they shuffled toward the door. If the guard pulled the trigger, even by accident, he’d hit Morgan.

Emerson pulled her along the floor toward the door. The guard backed up as they neared. What would happen when they reached the corridor? Surely, there were more guards. What would Emerson do when he realized he’d backed himself into a corner and there was no escape?

His forearm was across her windpipe, the blade of the knife kissing the side of her neck. Morgan couldn’t remember whether her jugular vein or carotid artery was on that side, but it didn’t matter. He could kill her by slicing either one.

Chapter Forty-One

Lance raced down the hallway.

An orderly shouted at him. “You can’t go down there. The floor is closed off. There’s a hostage situation.”

Lance ignored him. He skidded around the turn and pulled up short.

Emerson was backing down the corridor. Dressed as a doctor, he dragged Morgan along the hallway, hiding behind her body and holding a knife to her throat. Lance wasn’t a violent man, but at that moment, he wanted to kill Phillip Emerson.

Lance reached for the weapon on his hip, then realized the SFPD hadn’t returned it yet.

Fuck.

Thankfully, he still had his backup piece. Nobody had asked for it and he hadn’t volunteered.

His heart knocked against his ribs. He couldn’t let anything happen to Morgan, but he could see the desire to hurt her in Emerson’s eyes.

A security guard had his weapon drawn and pointed at Emerson and Morgan. The guard was obviously out of his element because his hands were shaking hard. Terror filled Lance as he imagined the security guard shooting Morgan by mistake.

Lance stopped at the end of the hall. “Let her go, Emerson!”

If Morgan moved just a few feet . . . one clear shot. That’s all Lance needed.

“One step closer and I will cut her lovely throat,” Emerson said, his voice oddly cold.

He wanted to do it. Lance could read the desire to end it on Emerson’s face. He knew he was trapped. He knew there were only two ways out of the situation: prison or a body bag. He looked as if he wanted to take Morgan with him.

Morgan’s gaze met Lance’s. One of her hands grasped Emerson’s forearm, as if to pull it away from her neck. She wheezed, “I can’t breathe.”

“Shut up!” Emerson shifted his grip, lifting his arm from her windpipe and grabbing a handful of her hair with his free hand instead. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat. But now there were a few inches between Morgan’s neck and the blade.

“We know Jacob killed Tessa. You can’t cover up for him anymore,” Lance said.

“Jacob didn’t kill Tessa,” Emerson shouted. “How stupid are you? I killed her.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lance shot back. “Jacob drugged and raped her back in July. Then he got mad that she was giving Nick what she’d refused to give him. He decided to teach her a lesson and got carried away.”

Emerson kept shaking his head. The knife quivered next to Morgan’s throat.

Lance needed a distraction. “Did you know Tessa was pregnant?”

Emerson’s eyes went wild. “That’s impossible.”

“The police didn’t make that public,” Lance continued.