Midnight Pursuits Read Free Page A

Juliet wasn’t sleeping. Her companion, on the other hand, was snoring softly beside her, so she was careful not to jostle him as she slid out from between the black silk sheets and tiptoed across the dark hotel suite to the armchair on which she’d left her purse. Her cell phone’s generic ringtone sped up, indicating it would bump over to voice mail soon, but she fished it out of her bag in the nick of time.
    She almost didn’t pick up when she glimpsed the unfamiliar number, until she noticed the country code. Her spine went rigid. 375. That was Belarus. And she knew only one person in Belarus.
    It had to be Henry, but why wasn’t he calling from any of his usual numbers? The late hour didn’t raise her guard; for a man with a genius IQ, Henry clearly hadn’t grasped the concept of time zones, because he always seemed to call her in the wee hours of the morning. But the number . . . that’s what made her uneasy.
    â€œHello?” she murmured as she lifted the phone to her ear.
    A quick glance at the bed told her that Joe was still sleeping soundly. Or wait—maybe his name was John. Definitely started with a J, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the introduction portion of their flirtatious encounter at the hotel bar. She’d invited the man up to her room for his rock-solid physique and handsome face, not his name. It was sex, pure and simple. That’s all she’d wanted from Joe/John, though, in all honesty, the hour they’d spent in the sack had been the furthest thing from mind-blowing. If she had to pick an adjective to describe it, she’d probably go with
adequate
.
    â€œIs this Juliet Mason?” a female voice inquired in heavily accented English.
    Juliet’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s this?”
    â€œMy name is Sasha Petrova. I’m a surgical nurse at St. Anne’s Hospital in Minsk and I’m calling on behalf of Henry Jonathan Albright—this number was listed under his emergency contact information. Are you Juliet Mason, Mr. Albright’s sister?”
    Juliet felt all the blood drain from her face as cold fear seeped into her bones. Frowning, she hurried out of the bedroom, closed the door behind her, and stepped into the living area of the suite. Across the room, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the bright neon lights of Las Vegas, shining bright despite the late hour. She approached the windows in nothing but a pair of skimpy panties, uneasiness trickling through her.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked sharply. “What happened to Henry?”
    â€œAre you Ms. Mason?”
    â€œYes, goddamn it! Now tell me what happened to my brother.”
    â€œMr. Albright was brought in several hours ago with four gunshot wounds to the abdomen,” the nurse said gravely.
    Juliet gasped. “What?”
    â€œThere was extensive damage to multiple organs, as well as internal bleeding, and he was just taken to surgery. The surgeons are hoping to repair the damage and control the bleeding . . .”
    Juliet saw a
but
coming, and, sure enough, the nurse continued after a long pause. “But I’m afraid the prognosis isn’t good, Ms. Mason. Dr. Vlacic asked me to contact Mr. Albright’s next of kin.”
    â€œHow long will he be in surgery?” Juliet asked briskly, already moving away from the window.
    â€œSeveral more hours, I believe, but I’m afraid his chances of survival are—”
    â€œI’ll be on the next plane out. Tell those surgeons they’d better do everything in their power to keep my brother alive until I get there.”
    She found it hard to breathe as she hung up the phone and crept back into the bedroom, where a sleeping Joe/John was completely ignorant to the turbulent emotions swirling inside her.
    Four gunshot wounds to the abdomen
.
    Shit, what the hell had happened? How had Henry gotten himself shot?
    She swallowed her panic as she