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  Sebastian's voice was consumed with his hatred. "Fucking FBI whore, I won't let you ruin everything." He raised the knife with both hands, charging at her. This time, the blade wrenched apart her right side, air whooshing out of her lungs. She couldn't think.

  "We used you up. Made you a whore. You should have died six years ago. You couldn't even do that right. Now, look what you've done. If you didn't fight so hard, I could have reminded you how good it felt, but now, there's no time. No one will save you. Cassiopeia will be dead to the world forever."

  Flashes of light appeared again as she wheezed. He yanked the knife from her chest with a slurping sound and stabbed her again. Dark rings in front of her eyes blocked the light.

  Listening for his breathing, Cassie raised her weapon with her last bit of strength, firing one more shot. Sebastian dropped, unmoving, in front of the jammed door. The noise of the knife hitting the floor echoed. The gun slipped from her fingers, and she slid down to the floor, her head falling back against the wall.

  In the hallway, patrons heard two muffled pops. A group of women stood together, complaining about the locked restroom. Preston, Brice, and Hector returned from giving their statements to Metro Police about the armed intruder. Hector walked over to try to settle down the ladies. He worked the door; it was jammed, not locked.

  Brice looked into the dining room. "Anyone have eyes on Cassie. Cassie, location?" The silence was deafening.

  Greg Wilds said, "Last location, women's bathroom. Any eyes on Modine?"

  "Negative," five agents replied.

  "Secure the package. Repeat—secure the package," Wilds commanded.

  Ian was antsy. Kieran called to tell him the FBI made more arrests in Susie Tanner's kidnapping. They were worried about deeper involvement. Returning to the ballroom, his neck tingled; Cassie had not returned to the table. That feeling saved him and his team many times. What am I doing? He didn't care what she thought anymore. He wasn't going to ignore his instincts any longer. Something was wrong.

  Moving around Cassie's seat, his eye caught a powdery white film at the bottom of her empty water glass. "Son of a bitch." Wrapping it in a napkin, he handed the glass to Monique. "Don't let this go."

  He signaled Jason and Colby. After assuring Monique's safety, he planned to find Cassie. Looking across the room, he saw Greg Wilds and another agent exiting the area. Two Capitol police officers approached Senator Bynum and Betty to escort them from the table. They left with a practiced urgency as house security started safeguarding the exits.

  Jason approached him. "Text our people and tell them to secure their clients. Something is going on." Ian continued scanning, then leaned down and whispered into Monique's ear, "Stay with Cowboy. Text me if you spot Cassie or Ames."

  After a heated discussion with a house security officer at one exit, Ian made it into the corridor by the coatroom. Two women were whining. "A hotel like this should be able to keep their restrooms working."

  Ian arrived outside the women's restroom to see the group of agents pacing. Greg Wilds stopped him. "Chase, we have this under control. Go back to your table." Two maintenance men were working hard to remove the steel-cored inner door from its frame.

  Blood was leaching from beneath into the carpet. Ian's face was a calm mask. "Is it Cassie?" Wilds did not answer. "IS IT Cassie?" Ian's voice grew louder.

  "We think so, but we can't get through the door. It's jammed. Her com is down. There's no response from inside. She may not even be in there."

  "Greg, what was her last position?"

  "Here. An ambulance is on the way."

  Sebastian's body lay sprawled across the threshold when the door came free. The body of a dark-haired woman in a hotel uniform was crumpled in the corner. Ian's nostrils were assailed by the smell of blood, gunpowder, and floral room deodorizer. Carnage cloaked the room; the walls and mirrors were speckled red. Cassie slumped against the far wall, shaking hard. Her dress was shredded, and blood was bubbling between her lips and pooling under her left leg.

  "Cassie! Hang on." Preston Galloway sprinted to kneel beside her. He placed her bloody gun in the back of his waistband.

  "Cass, the ambulance is coming." Brice settled on the same side as Preston and pressed his bare hands against Cassie's thigh. Blood ran between his fingers.

  Ian moved to her other side. Tearing the tie from around his neck, he tied a tourniquet. "Hey, sweetheart, it's going to hurt a bit." Cassie whimpered when he knotted the tie tightly around her hemorrhaging thigh. He clutched his handkerchief and patted it against her bloody lips. Brice wrenched his jacket off to press the balled-up garment against her chest.

  Her eyes blinked like a porcelain doll. "I…an, I'm …sor…ry. I want…ed…my… chance."

  "Don't try to talk. Just keep looking at me, sweetheart." Ian lifted her chin to try to ease her labored gasps as ice-cold sweat dripped down his back. Cassie's shaking grew more violent. He wrapped his jacket around her and pulled her against his body. Brice continued trying to staunch the bleeding from her chest.

  Preston yelled, "Where the hell is the ambulance?"

  Cassie groped for Ian's hand. “Cass...i...o...pe...i...a…is…dead.” Her clouded green eyes rolled back into her head.

  Chapter Eleven

  The paramedics pulled her away from Ian's arms to start treatment. "Cassie, hang on." Brice positioned himself next to her before the medics placed her on the stretcher.

  Ian stared down her fellow agents. "I'm riding with her."

  Wilds gave a curt nod. "Walton, go with her too."

  Colby stood at Monique's side. She gave Ian a knowing sign when they reached the front of the hotel and raised her cell phone. "I'll call Kieran."

  Ian sat on the bench beside her and sent a silent prayer up to heaven. My sweet Cassie. "You're not alone. I'm here, sweetheart. Keep fighting." The night played back like a horror movie: how soft and sweet she felt against his body as they danced, how something was off with Ames, how she maintained her composure with the Whitmans, the look of death in her eyes.

  Ian retrieved his phone from his bloodstained pocket. "Luke, it's Ian Chase." Sirens blared in the background.

  Luke yawned, "Ian, is something wrong?"

  Yeah, something is wrong. It's my fault Cassie is almost dead. Ian's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "Luke, I'm on my way to University Hospital with Cassie. She's been hurt."

  Luke's voice rose. "How bad? What happened?" Before Ian could answer, another call beeped through. "Ian, I'll call you back. It's Greg Wilds."

  Ian held Cassie's ice-cold right hand.

  A fierce battle of Call of Duty was playing out in the background on Brett Collins' computer screen when Ian connected with him, "Yeah, boss." Brett reached for the controller to end the game.

  "There's been a stabbing at the Four Seasons. Pull all the tape you can find, especially the FBI communication tapes. Also, get a background check started on Senator Bynum's aide, Sebastian Ames, approximately age thirty. Wake up Smooth and Bear and send them, prepared to blend in, at University."

  Before Brett could ask anything, Ian disconnected the call. He dialed another number that went to voicemail. Annoyed, he typed a short text.

  "Sorry, I was…uh… occupied. What's up, man?" Dr. Hunter Montgomery asked.

  Ian watched the paramedics try to stem the bleeding. "Damn it. When I call you, I expect you to answer. Look, I need you to haul ass over to University."

  Hunter let out a heavy sigh. "Who's hurt? I was notified everyone got home safe."

  Ian pinched the bridge of his nose. "All personnel are fine. A woman was stabbed at a charity dinner tonight."

  "Patient name?" Hunter buttoned his shirt and grabbed his hospital ID.

  "Cassie Ellis Modine."

  "I'll call ahead. I'm on my way," Hunter said, stepping into his shoes.

  Ian felt helpless. The paramedics looked like they were losing the battle. Cassie's blood painted the sheets and floor red. When the female paramedic insert
ed a tube into her throat to help her breathe, blood and pink froth overflowed from it.

  The male paramedic pressed a large needle into the vein in her neck. Handing Ian the bag of fluid, the medic ordered, "Squeeze this slow and steady." He covered her chest wounds as best he could with a plastic film. Cassie's heart beat to a strange staccato rhythm on the monitor. "Starting compressions," he announced.

  Ian lurched as the ambulance slammed to a halt. A doctor and two nurses met them at the bay. "Is she allergic to anything?" a redheaded nurse asked.

  "Penicillin," Ian said. He'd seen her old medical records.

  The male medic straddled her on the stretcher as they rushed her into a trauma room. "Twenty-eight-year-old female, member of service, multiple stab wounds, left EJ, two liters in, intubated, CPR, five minutes, and counting." The female medic continued to breathe for Cassie.

  Kyle Jones, a former linebacker and now ER physician, blocked Ian's entry. Numb, Ian stood in the hallway after the large doors closed. Brice Walton joined him. Both men stood like statues outside the trauma room doors.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Four units O neg on the rapid infuser," Kyle yelled. "Cool her down. Thoracotomy tray. Notify surgery we're coming. Trauma panel. Type and cross for ten units."

  A choreographed ballet of medical personnel danced around Cassie. What was left of her exquisite dress and her lace La Perla underwear landed in bloody piles on the floor. The sounds of the saw cutting through her chest filled the room.

  Kyle's gloved hands reached inside her body. It was a Hail Mary pass. He lay down a bedding of stitches over two small arteries and packed her chest with absorbent pads. Her body weakly responded to the interventions. "We have a heartbeat. Tell the OR we are coming now."

  After Cassie was rolled out into the corridor, a nurse approached the growing group. "Gentlemen, there's a waiting room by the surgical unit. Sirs, are you hurt?"

  Ian noticed why she appeared so worried—he and Brice were covered with Cassie's blood. Both shook their heads. "I can show you a place to get cleaned up. Come with me." She gave them a reassuring smile.

  By the time Monique reached the emergency room waiting area, it was filling with law enforcement officers and the curious. Media began camping out front. Word traveled fast in the Beltway, mainly when a high-profile stabbing occurred in time for the nightly news broadcasts.

  Kieran Chase, a smaller, slimmer version of his brother, made his way inside, bypassing hospital security with ease. Monique jumped when he pulled her into his muscled arms. Seizing her mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, he captured her with eyes as intense as his brother's. Monique ran her fingers through his jet-black hair, cut in a military high and tight.

  "Where's Ian?" Kieran nodded at Colby and Jason.

  Monique held on to him. "I haven't seen him yet. He went in the ambulance with her."

  Ian had clean hands, but he was still covered in blood as he joined Kieran and Monique. "What can I do?" Kieran asked.

  Ian sat down to take a minute to put his head together, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  Moments later, Julian ambled over. Despite working around the clock on the Louisiana rescue, he arrived prepared—no questions asked. His Cajun accent cut through the tension. "Boss, she's been moved to OR 1. She is alive. That pretty, young fille over there said they opened her chest in the emergency room—a last-ditch effort. According to her, there's a whole bunch of men in tuxedos and suits in the surgical waiting room on two."

  A young nurse with braided blonde hair blushed as she exited through a set of double doors. The man with a sexy French accent could con a nun out of her panties. He kept the fact he was a widower and rarely dated a secret from most.

  With the face of a warrior, Ian focused. "Thanks, Smooth. Cassie Modine is our client. She was stabbed tonight while working undercover at the Helping Hearts dinner. Make sure she's admitted under the name Modine. Cassiopeia Ellis, her undercover persona, needs to disappear. I want ears in the waiting room. I want to know the name of every person up there and how they are related to her. Get ahold of Collins. Have him make sure Hunter Montgomery is her surgeon of record. I also need eyes on FBI Deputy Assistant Director Paulsen, his wife, and Supervisory Special Agent Greg Wilds."

  Kieran raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother but said Nothing. "Cassie Modine was working undercover for Wilds. Luke and Rachel Paulsen are her guardians," Ian clarified.

  "Make sure the Paulsens get anything they need," Kieran added, giving Ian a sympathetic nod. The personnel around the Chases took a collective breath. "Smooth, Bear, call in anyone you need."

  Julian and Lincoln, attired in black scrubs with University Hospital identification, snuck away to get the lay of the land. Ian gripped the bag, and the key card Kieran handed him and disappeared into a staff locker room to clean up.

  Once inside, he closed his eyes, still hearing Cassie's shallow gasps for air and feeling her chilled skin against his. Her whispers played in an endless loop: "I wanted my chance."

  He slammed his fists against the porcelain sink. You screwed up, Chase. This happened because of you. He tore off the blood-soaked shirt the sticky fluid had pasted to his skin, then watched the red spirals circle the drain.

  Ian came around the corner, timed to hear his brother's words. He feels guilty. He remained all business, ignoring his brother's astute observation. "Kieran, have the glass I gave Monique printed and the contents analyzed. When I saw it last, there was a white residue on the bottom. Metro will want to speak to Monique. Make sure they do it on her terms. See if you can divert the press. I don't want them to invade Cassie's privacy. This stuff sells papers and gets ratings."

  "Isn't that the FBI's job? She wasn't working for us, was she?"

  Ian moved closer. "You know if she were, this wouldn't have happened. Greg Wilds ran the fiasco. I just...she…"

  "I got it." Kieran put a hand on Ian's shoulder.

  Ian met his brother's worried expression with one of his own. "This was a mess. I think Wilds set her up. I could tell she didn't expect to see the Whitman party or Monique and me at the event. See if technical analysis can come up with anything about how the seating arrangements were made." He kissed Monique's cheek. "You look tired, gorgeous. Kieran, Cowboy, get her home."

  Kieran hugged his brother. "Take it easy. It's going to be a long night. I'll call Dad; he will want to come. He can do whatever a hospital board member does. Call me if you need anything." He wrapped an arm around Monique. "Can I get you something before we go?"

  Ian nodded. "Call Esther. Have her cancel my morning."

  Before they left the staff area, the TV broadcast caught their attention. "Chaos at a charity dinner. Tonight, the Four Seasons hosted the Helping Hearts celebration dinner. Members of the Beltway elite, including four candidates for President, joined to raise their voices against crimes committed against women. The dinner was marred when an unidentified man and woman were killed, and another woman was injured. The unknown woman was transported to George Washington University Hospital in what sources report as grave condition. As details become available, we will bring you more information."

  "That was fast." Kieran checked his watch.

  "She emceed the dinner," Ian said.

  "I'll call Farmer. We'll lock it down."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ian's long, smooth strides ate up the corridor. Wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks, he looked like a hospital administrator. With his Chase Security-generated keycard granting him complete hospital access, he rode the private elevator to the secure surgical waiting room.

  As the doors opened, two hands pressed against his shoulders. Quinn Marcus tried to block him. "I'm sorry, sir, but you cannot come in here."

  Ian hissed, "If you don't take your hands off me now, I will break both your arms."

  Before the men could come to blows, a tall, white-haired man raised his voice above the din. "Let him in, Agent Marcus." Luke Paulsen wrapped his arm around
his wife.

  Rachel Paulsen slouched against her husband, her soft brown eyes heavy with sadness. She clutched a tissue, dabbing it against her tear-streaked face.

  Ian bent to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry about Cassie, Mrs. Paulsen. How is she, sir?"

  "No one will tell us anything other than she's in the OR, but that's good. They got her heartbeat back." Luke's reddened eyes looked weary. "Come on. Let's go over there. I want to talk to you." Luke pulled Rachel into his side and pointed to an empty room across the hall. Greg Wilds furrowed his brow.

  On the way to the conference room, Luke insisted on stopping at the nurses' station. "Excuse me, hon. Do you have any new information on Cassie Modine?"

  "I am not your hon—and, no, I just got here. I have no idea who she is."

  Ian placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Miss Sommers," he read her name tag, "we're worried about someone important to us. We don't have time for hurt feelings. Cassie Modine is the patient in operating room one. We would appreciate it if you would get out of your chair and get us some answers."

  Angie Sommers looked at him with contempt but didn't say another word. Instead, she walked down the hall.

  Ian texted Lincoln: Any word from Montgomery?

  As he texted, Rear Admiral Declan Chase approached the desk talking on his phone. "Do you want me to wake them up, or will you? In the ten years, I have sat on this board, I have never asked a favor. Now I am. You have an undercover FBI agent on one of your operating tables. How and where she was injured is high profile. I need extra security for her and her family to ensure privacy." Declan hugged Ian. "No, I can meet you in the morning—say 0600. Right now, I want you to call in your public information officer and the head of security. Also, wake up Doc. Hunter Montgomery is the surgeon of record."