In the Doctor Stein's medical center basement, a single surgical lamp overhead hummed. The air reeked of alcohol and fresh blood.
Alex Torredo clamped his hand over his stomach, grit-ting his teeth against the white-hot agony tearing through his midsection. The stitches had been redone after Richard's attack in the garage. Every breath he took burned like fire.
Behind him, Miller stood by the medical supply cabinets, gripping his gun. While Doctor Stein washed his hand for the tenth time.
There was a knock on the door.
All three pairs of eyes locked. Miller checked his watch before going to open the door.
He slid open just enough for Richard Hart to slip inside. He looked completely unraveled.
His eyes locked onto Alex, an anxious, desperate energy took over. He blew right past the blood-stained gauze scattered across the floor and slammed a sleek, military-grade flash drive onto the metal tray next to the surgical tools.
