Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)(49)

“I’m at my place. I just got done with a meeting with Creighton. I’m walking out the door now for Harlem Hospital. I don’t know why they’d take her there.”

“I’m at the school. I’ll be out in front of your building in fifteen. Wait for me, baby girl. I’m coming with you.”

When we entered the hospital twenty-five minutes later, Greer’s grip on my hand threatened to break it, her growing fear palpable with every step.

I squeezed her hand back, wanting to remind her that she wasn’t alone. Whatever happened, we would face it together.

The woman at the desk directed us to a private waiting room, and I already knew what was coming. Tracey was dead. They were going to tell us.

Greer hadn’t realized it yet, but she clung to my side as though her body already knew.

A doctor came in, looking haggard in her white coat and blue scrubs.

“Are you Greer Karas?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s me. I . . . you called about Tracey? Is she okay? What happened?” Greer asked all the questions any person in this room would ask.

The doctor’s face turned sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Karas. Ms. Mullins was in an accident . . . and she didn’t make it.”

Even though I knew it was coming, the words still punched me in the gut.

“No!” Greer’s wail echoed in the tiny room as she threw herself into my arms, tears already falling and soaking my shirt. Maybe she knew it was coming too.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Karas.”

“What happened?” I choked out the question.

The doctor lifted her gaze from Greer to me. “There was a hit-and-run. Ms. Mullins was jogging, and according to the eyewitnesses, the car failed to stop at the light and hit her.”

Greer’s body shook with sobs as I wrapped my arms around her tighter. She sounded like she was being destroyed from the inside out.

“Who would do something like that?” Greer’s question came out somewhere between irate and heartbroken.

“We’re not sure, Ms. Karas. The driver didn’t stop. The police have been notified, and there will certainly be an investigation.”

Greer pulled away from me to wrap her arms around her waist and hunch forward, rocking back and forth. She didn’t know how to process this kind of grief. I laid an arm across her shoulders and tugged her against my side again, hoping the contact would give her strength.

“Would you like to say good-bye?” the doctor asked.

My heart cracked at the tears streaking Greer’s face when she raised her head.

“Good-bye?”

“Yes, Ms. Karas. We’re going to move Ms. Mullins shortly, so if you’d like . . .”

I held my breath, waiting for Greer to respond. Would she want to see her friend?

“Yes. Of course. Where do I go?”

“You can come right this way, ma’am.” The doctor gestured for the door. “And, sir, you’re welcome to come along . . . for support.”

Greer stood on shaky legs, and I kept my arm wrapped around her waist. “Yes, he’s coming.”

We followed the doctor down the white hallway through double steel doors and past a half dozen treatment-type bays, some with open curtains, some with closed.

The doctor paused outside one toward the end. “She’s at peace. She’s not suffering. She has some bruising around her face, but most of her injuries were internal.”

I wondered if she went quickly, but I wasn’t going to ask any questions right now.

Greer nodded at the doctor and reached down to grab my hand. “Okay.”

We walked inside the small room, and Greer shrank back from the form on the bed. “Oh my God.” Her words shook as the sobs broke through.

She buried her face in my shirt again like she couldn’t bear to see what was in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Tracey looked like she was sleeping, but the bruising around her cheek and temple were dark and ugly. Her blue sweatshirt had been cut down the center, no doubt so they could work on her, but was folded so it covered her chest completely. A sheet was pulled up to her waist.

Greer stepped away from me again, and what came out of her mouth shocked me even more.

“It should have been me.” The words were quiet, carrying all the sorrow and regret in the world. “We were supposed to run together. That stupid couch to half marathon. But I had to bail today because Creighton needed me to come to a meeting and sign a bunch of papers.”

She reached out and touched the ends of Tracey’s dark hair before yanking her hand back.

“She’s even wearing my sweatshirt.” Greer dropped to her knees beside the bed, pressing her forehead into Tracey’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Trace. I’m so sorry.”

Her body shuddered with the force of her sobs, and I knelt beside her to lend her my strength.




Greer is staring at me in the kitchen, and I know we’re both reliving the memory together. Her eyes fill with tears.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It wasn’t an accident. Donnigan’s the one who killed her.” I pause, taking a deep breath before I give Greer the truth that’s going to rock the very foundation of her world. “But he f*cked up. You were the target. They’d taken a hit out on you.”