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breath, she turned back to the closet, reaching for the knob, then froze as she spotted a splash of crimson against the antiseptic white of the tile floor. 
    “Blood,” she whispered to the empty hall, her mind scrambling as she opened the closet door, still brandishing her makeshift weapon.
    For a moment she thought she was in the clear, the space filled only with mops and buckets and brooms.  But then the groan emanated again.   And she dropped to her knees as a shadow separated from the darkness of the closet.
    “Charlie.  Oh my God, is that you?”  She reached out to grab the man’s wrist, searching for a pulse, her doctor’s instincts kicking in.  Although her patients were usually already dead, that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of caring for the living.  “Where are you hurt?”
    The older man moaned softly and tried to move, but he was too weak.  Using gentle hands, she managed to roll him over, her stomach clenching as she saw the blood soaking the front of his shirt, the metallic stench filling her nose.
    “What happened?” she asked, leaning close, trying to find the source of his bleeding.
    “Ambush,” he said, his breathing coming in gasps.  “Caught me from…behind.  Forced me to let them up here.”  He reached out for her hand, his blue eyes fading.  “So sorry.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” she assured him.  “I’m sure you did everything you could.  Right now we need to get you some help.”  She pressed against the pulsing wound, praying for a miracle, her physician’s mind already accepting the futility.
    “No…time,” Charlie whispered, his voice barely audible now.  “You need to go.”
    Tracy shook her head, still pressing against the wound.  “I’m not leaving you.” Charlie was like family.  He’d started with Braxton shortly after she’d founded the company.  And until tonight, he’d always had her back.
    “Go,” he whispered again, his tone urgent now.  “Go.  They’re still here.”
    “Who, Charlie?  Who did this?”
    “Don’t know.” He shook his head and then opened his mouth to say more, but it was too late. On a soft exhale, Charlie died.  Tears filled Tracy’s eyes, but she knew he was right.  She had to get the hell out of here.
    She pushed to her feet, realizing too late that the scalpel was still on the floor beside Charlie.  She bent to retrieve it, but before she could close her fingers around the little knife she felt something hard and cold pressed against her side.
    “Move one more inch and you’re dead.”  The voice was cold and dispassionate, the barrel of his gun pressing into her skin.  And in that moment Tracy’s only thought was of Seth.  Funny how when push came to shove the truth had a way of hitting you like a two-by-four.
     
    *****
     
    It was fucking cold outside.  Seth pulled the collar of his tux jacket closer, wishing he had an overcoat.  Springtime in New York was always a roll of the dice.  But now, with the icy wind whipping down the street, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
    Maybe the smart thing would be to head for home and his own bed.  He’d sleep it off and in the morning consider his options.  But a part of him knew that if he gave himself time to think, he’d let rationale win.  Ignoring his heart in favor of his head.  But then he’d lose Tracy. 
    Forever.
    So it came down to which mattered more.  His pride or his need for her.   And at the moment, still slightly buzzed from all the whiskey, need was winning the day.  Besides, her building was just ahead.  If nothing else he’d at least have a chance to get warm before dragging his rejected ass back to his apartment.
    The darkened building rose out of the lamplight, a swirling of mist adding dramatic effect to the pale light.   On the top floor he could see a glow coming from Tracy’s window.  Which meant that she was still up.  Hell, maybe she’d been rethinking things too.
    Yeah, and pigs were