Three Years Earlier....

"No!"

"Don't go."

"Nooooo!!"

Devlin eyes snapped open and the first thing he experienced was the gut-wrenching and mutilating pain that almost knocked him back to unconsciousness. The pain was unbearable, very excruciating and pulsating deep down in his stomach, groin and back and was threatening to cripple him.

He tried to speak but a gush of cool air filled his lungs. The pain in his back was more intense than the rest of his body and his hands felt like lead weights but he struggled to raise them and when he did, alternating waves of pain swept through him with so much force that was hard to ignore.

He took a sharp intake of breath, trying to let the sinusoidal and throbbing waves of pain to pass and his nose and mouth were once again filed with cool, fresh air that helped him breath better but it was uncomfortable so he yanked off whatever it was that was making him gobble cool air.

He regretted it immediately as his lungs flamed as if they were on fire.

"Am I in hell?" He groaned.

A face came over him. "No." It was a man in EMT uniform and a face cap drawn low over his head. He smiled at him. He had an English accent. "Well, not yet, anyways."

Just then, he heard the wail of the ambulance siren and that baffled him. He tried to sit up because he had a lot of questions running around in his head but the man in uniform pushed him back and tried to place something that looked suspiciously like an oxygen mask back over his nose and mouth.

"I don't want it." Devlin said with a struggle. "Why am I here?"

"You need it so you have to put in on." The man said and placed it over his nose and mouth. "You're on your way to the hospital. It's a miracle you survived those shots. The bullets are still in your body and so you need a doctor and a bullet removal surgery."

Bullet? Hospital? Doctor?

Then it all came rushing back. He was alive! He'd thought he was dead. Relief and gratitude swept over him in soothing waves. He'd been wearing a light-weight bulletproof vest which had probably been what had prevented the bullets from completely finishing him. He closed his eyes, letting the realization of him being alive sink in and overshadow him. He remembered dying, remembered seeing Dorothea and Rob and his grandma. He also remembered being swept up in blackness. Now that he knew, he had probably only lost consciousness due to loss of blood.

He needed to tell Pamela! He needed to tell her that he was alive, that he was fine and they would finally be happy! That gave him strength. He would tell the man to help him call his wife; oh how worried she must be!

He removed the mask again and sat up which drained his strength due to how painful it was. "How long have I been out?"

"Few hours."

He took in a sharp breath and his sides pierced him. Pamela would be worried sick. "I need to call my wife, please." The man wore a face cap that shadowed his face and Devlin looked up at him. "Please. It's very imperative that she knows I'm alive."

"Yes, you're alive." The man said, slowly taking off his cap. "But not for long."

Devlin didn't have the time to digest the meaning behind the man's words when he raised his fists and swung at Devlin. Shocked, Devlin ducked but not in time to avoid the heavy blow that landed on his sides. He groaned aloud and regarded the salt-and-peppered and heavily bearded man with disgust.

"Who are you?!"

"Name's Jon."

"I don't need your stupid name. Why the fuck are you attacking me?"

"You aren't too stupid to know that Bull has people in the police, are ye?" His English accent was strong and it repulsed him all the more.

Devlin's eyes flickered around and he saw the dead bodies of two EMTs, which probably were the real ones. Jon had definitely hijacked the ambulance van just to finish him off. He groaned. Even after death Bull was still plaguing him.

Jon lunged forward again and Devlin lunched himself from the bed and swung to the side. He had no strength but he had to try. If he hadn't died by Bull then the stupid goatee-carrying beast couldn't kill him. Whatever challenge he brought to the table and whatever threat he posed paled in comparison to what he'd endured.

He noticed that Jon had a semi-automatic Beretta M9 which he obviously didn't want to use probably so as not to attract the cop vehicles that were following behind them.

Devlin placed one foot on the floor of the van and pain shot through him, down from his heels to his femur. He groaned.

"You should save yourself the work and let me kill you swiftly." Jon snarled.

"Not on your life." He said through gritted teeth and with so much force, lunged for the man and they both fell, making a loud noise in the crammed space. The van screeched to a halt probably because the driver heard the nose and Devlin slammed his fists multiple times into the Jon's face. Seeing that he was momentarily weakened, Devlin kicked open the van door and rolled to the floor. The force of that made his ankle twist painfully, forcing a quick cry of pain from his lips.

He fought the tide of unconsciousness that washed over him and looked around. They were on a bridge and no cop cars were in sight and that surprised him. How had an ambulance vehicle been hijacked with a near-death patient inside right under the noses of the cops? What was he supposed to do now? Run blindly in the middle of nowhere with only a long stretch of the road and a lake that led to no where in particular? Should he wait? The cops might not be far behind, he told himself and immediately debunked that. If the cops were not far behind then he would be able to hear even if it was the faintest sound of the siren, but it wasn't so and at the moment, it was as silent as a graveyard.

The silence was disturbed when the driver side of the van was opened. Devlin remembered then that there was a driver. He started to back away in panic.

"There is no escape for you." The stout, heavily weighted driver said to him.

Devlin clutched his stomach and started hobbling further away from him in his obviously futile attempt at escape. His futile attempt became more so when Jon awoke from his temporary defeat and joined his partner. Devlin clutched his bandaged stomach which was starting to bleed, and fought harder the unconsciousness that started to swirl around him.

"You're gonna die today." Jon said aiming his gun at Devlin.

Devlin had to think fast. He could not die, not when he had survived the most of the ordeal. "The cops will be here soon." He calmly said in a bid to distract them.

"Not when we took a wrong route, no." Fatso chipped in.

"Why are you working for Bull? He's a bastard." He said good-humoredly when inside, he was burning with anger. Why was he so unlucky?

"Who's Bull?"

Devlin was momentarily taken aback in shock, then he saw the laughter in their eyes.

"Just kidding. We know Bull, but he's, well, just the errand boy, second in command. You'll be surprised at how many wants to see you gone." Fatso said.

"Well won't it be sweet to know that one of those many people are dead? I pulled the trigger myself." He replied, hoping his anger and the searing pain that was seeping up his body wasn't showing just how weak, hurt and betrayed he was feeling. A lot of people wanted him dead? Who exactly could it be? What exactly had he done to them?

"Bull was prepared to die." Jon said inching closer to him. "Now, you can join him in hell."

Just milliseconds before the trigger was pulled, Devlin lurched forward and knocked Jon's hands away from him and the gun fired, the bullet hitting the ambulance van and causing a dent. The gun fired several more times, denting more parts and shattering the car back light. When Devlin was satisfied that the bullets were exhausted, he let go of him and punched him.

The other man lunged towards him but Devlin ducked and from the corner of his eyes watched Jon dig into his pockets for something, and not waiting to find out what it was, raced for the bridge's steel rail.

For a moment, he looked down at the water beneath, unsure of what exactly he was doing at the edge of a bridge and when he told himself the answer, he started to wonder what would happen if he dove in, but there was no time for that. It was his only way out. Hopefully, he would be able to swim ashore, but with his injuries and weakness, what were the chances?

Doubts arose in him, making him want to change his mind and surrender but without having the time to change his mind, the corking of a gun sealed off his fate and just as the gun started to fire a hail of bullets at him, he dove into the frigid lake, but not before the searing pain of the bullet exploded in his arm with the same capacity as the splash his weight made on the water.

~

Devlin opened his eyes, slowly being brought back to consciousness, just the way the sun slowly rose. He felt numb all over and couldn't feel a part of his body. His eye lids felt very heavy and working them open seemed to be a task. Gradually, he started to feel conscious of his environment and with that consciousness came pain that spiked through his body in hot, numbing waves. Thankfully, they were not as bad as it'd been right before he jumped of the bridge.

The memory of that made his eyes snap open. He tried to raise his hands and groaned. There was a cast lining his hand and as far as he could feel, one of his legs.

"He's awake!" He heard a woman whisper and instinctively he reacted, sitting up swiftly, and raising his fists at her.

It was a little girl.

She blinked at him in shock and he lowered his arms. What was a child doing here?

"Relax, Mr. Devlin, we're not the enemy."

His head raised to meet a young woman in doctor outfits. Was he in the hospital? He watched her like a hawk would watch a prey, his eyes following her every move as she came closer to him and pushed him back to the bed. His whole body gave way to weakness and fatigue. He tired to relax but he still felt too keyed to, even though his whole system was a glaring opposite of that fact.

She went to the drip stand and made some adjustments on the tube. "You're not in the hospital but this can substitute as one until you're taken to a real hospital."

"No." He struggled to say. He couldn't go to a hospital! If Bull's men had infiltrated and hijacked an ambulance van, they would definitely kill him in a hospital. He sat up again and said with more force, "No!"

"No what? I have tied up your wounds and have removed the bullets, except the one on your shoulder. It's deeper than the others and you need a real hospital with all the equipment to take it out. I'll call 911 now."

Devlin stood and grabbed her arms. She gasped in shock.

"I - I cannot go to a hospital, please."

"Get your hands off me." She snapped, her coal-black eyes gleaming with anger.

"Mommy?" The little girl said, fear bordering her features.

The woman directed a quick look at the little girl and smiled at her. "It's okay honey, everything's okay."

Devlin let go of her immediately. "I'm sorry." He said as she took his arms and helped him back to the bed. It squeaked to adjust to his weight. "I can't go to a hospital." He said again.

"You have to."

"I don't want to."

"I'm sorry I can't –"

"You won't be held responsible for anything, I promise."

She sighed and gently removed his hand from hers. "If the surgery goes wrong, you could get an infection and lose your arm."

"I'll take that chance." His wife would not mind a one-handed husband, would she?

"We discussed this already, Sarah."

Devlin and the doctor both swung to the direction of the male voice. Devlin found himself holding his breath for the worst as the man entered the room.

He let his breath escape in relief. "Art."

He smiled at Devlin. "I see you've met my daughter. Don't mind her."

"I'm only being professional." She snapped.

"You've been a doctor for what, three years and you're a professional already?"

She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I'm not going to take responsibility for whatever happens to this man."

Art waved her off. "He'll be fine, he's a fighter."

She sighed and stretched her hands towards the little girl. "Honey, come."

The young girl that Devlin had almost killed with his fists who looked to be about three or four bounced off after the doctor but not after Art carried her and planted a kiss on her cheeks.

"How long have I been out?" Devlin said, the moment the door shut.

"What was the date when you dived into the lake? June? Now it's July."

Devlin didn't acknowledge his poor attempt at humor. "I'm serious."

"So am I! It was the thirtieth of June, now it's the second of July, so three days. You've been drifting in and out of consciousness." He took a chair and sat facing Devlin. "You don't remember do you?"

Devlin shook his head in negation.

"What do you remember?"

"The pain, the ambulance fight, cold water and swimming to the shore. Every other thing is out of reach or in a blur."

Art nodded. "As expected."

"How did you find me and why am I here?"

"When the van was hijacked, I put two and two together and realized that we have dirty cops working for Bull but didn't have proof or know who so when I heard you jumped into the lake, I guessed it was either you swam this way or the currents carried your body this way and hoping for the best, I told my daughter to gather men to search for you and delayed the cops official search by a few hours. Thankfully they found you unconscious but still breathing and here we are."

Devlin fell silent in order to chew on what Art had said. "Why did you save me? Why didn't you let the cops find me and take me to the hospital?"

Art chuckled. "That would have been suicide for you, son."

"Why do you care?"

Art sighed. "This is a win-win for you. If Bull's men doesn't kill you, prison will. I knew you would thank me for this, Leonid."

He frowned. "Don't call me that."

"Why?" Art teased. "It's your name."

"You could get in trouble for helping me. What's the catch?" He said, switching the subject.

"I don't need anything from you, Leonid."

"You need to bugger off." Even if Devlin didn't know how to thank him enough, even if he knew he would be forever indebted to Art, he still needed to set things straight.

"Why do you hate that name? Your parents named you that, didn't they?"

"I don't have parents."

Art laughed. "Fine, I'll stop testing your waters. When you're fully recovered, you can go back to the real world, but for now, you cannot make contact with anyone and by anyone I mean anyone."

Devlin got his message loud and clear, and other messages too.

"I don't think I want to be back to the real world just yet. I need time to think and strategize, and also plan how to find every single person who had a hand in my death."

"Truthfully, I'm not surprised a lot of people want you dead. You step on a lot of toes."

"And I am ready to crush those toes." Devlin replied angrily, then sobered. "It's just that I have to be careful, I don't want them to take it out on Pamela."

"I highly doubt they would. Your wife is the key to one of the biggest trust funds in the world, she's safe. This means you can go all out to find out those that are thirsty for your blood. I am especially concerned about the dirty cops in my jurisdiction."

"Ah, the catch."

"I just need you to find the dirty cops and reveal their identities, that is not a catch, just consider it a duty to your country."

"Indeed." He replied sarcastically. "But I'll need time to think and strategize in a painstakingly careful manner cause the miss will be as good as a mile if I blow this up."

"I agree, but unfortunately, we don't have that time. By the time the search of the lake is completed, everyone's going to know you aren't dead. They'll need proof."

"Then we'll give them one."

Art gave him a dead serious look for few seconds before understanding what Devlin was trying to pass across. "No way."

"Yes, Art. It's the best thing to do in this situation."

"That is a capital crime!" He stood and paced the room. "And to think that I want to fish out dirty cops; I am the worst of them all."

"You know it's the only way, Dwayne."

"This is insanity."

"But we have to do it." Devlin said calmly. "Please. I am going to be sacrificing a lot too and my wife will suffer but at the end of it all, I'm doing it for her. What about you?"

"You know nothing about why I'm doing this."

"I don't want to. All I want to know is that is it strong enough for you to want to help me?"

There was sadness in Art's eyes and Devlin felt pity for him as he said with a broken voice, "Of course."

"Then that's all that matters. That's all you should focus on."

Art let out a heavy, forlorn sigh. "Alright then," Then he looked up and smiled. "I think I have the perfect one for you."

~

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