The Return (Butler Ranch Book 6)

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The Return (Butler Ranch Book 6) Page 12

by Heather Slade


  Merrigan doubted that was the truth, but their entire relationship had become based solely on the lies they told each other. She’d been the one to start it when she told Kade she understood why he had to spend every day at the hospital with Quinn and her mother.

  What little news she received came from Razor. From him, she understood that Lena’s condition had initially been critical and remained serious. She didn’t ask why Kade had taken it upon himself to become her primary medical advocate.

  “What’s going on with Paps?” she asked. It seemed as though he’d disappeared.

  “He’s taken a step back,” Razor told her.

  “What does that mean? What is he doing?”

  “I’m pretty sure he sits in that hospital, day after day, but steers clear of Doc and Quinn. He’s likely found someone willing to update him on Barbie’s progress so he doesn’t have to find out from them.”

  “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he just be with them?”

  “It’s only a guess on my part, but my belief is that, somewhere along the way, Paps fell hard for the woman he claimed to detest. And now, who knows if she even remembers him.” Razor shrugged. “Like I said, I’m only hypothesizing.”

  Merrigan checked her watch. She’d have to leave soon for a meeting she’d scheduled with Striker. Since Kade was no longer involved, at least for the time being, they’d agreed to work together and only consult with K19 when necessary.

  “Where are you off to?” Razor asked when she put her laptop in its case.

  She’d taken to working in Harmony, given the K19 team had set up a state-of-the-art intelligence operation in the small house.

  “I have a meeting in Los Angeles this evening. I won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest, maybe longer.”

  “With Boris?”

  Merrigan laughed. “Striker.”

  “Same thing, Natasha. He’s the one who gave you the code name, right?”

  “Watch out, or I’ll start calling you Rocky.”

  “Wait. Not Bullwinkle?”

  “I’d think you’d prefer Rocky, given it’s short for Rocket. Besides, Paps is more of a Bullwinkle.”

  The look on Razor’s face changed so drastically that she thought perhaps she’d insulted him.

  “That’s what makes him so deadly. Everyone underestimates Paps.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m just feeling it for him right now. He’s been my best friend for close to twenty-five years, and he won’t even talk to me about what he’s going through.”

  “Have you considered discussing it with Doc?”

  Razor shook his head and looked away, giving Merrigan the impression their conversation was over.

  She knew enough about LA traffic to expect to be sitting bumper-to-bumper given her later-than-expected start. However, she was almost to Westwood, and so far, it had been an easy drive.

  Merrigan pressed the dial button on the car’s steering wheel and used the voice activation system to request a call be placed to “Griffin” since the computerized assistant consistently failed to locate Striker in her contact list.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “Just past the Getty.”

  “You’re kidding. Did you fly partway?”

  She laughed. “I’m as shocked as you by the lack of traffic.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Hotel Bel-Air.”

  “Damn. I was hoping you’d say the Robmar.”

  “It was booked.”

  Striker laughed like she had. “Too rich for us mere governmental employees, anyway. To stay in digs like that, you’d have to be on K19’s payroll.”

  He was joking, but Merrigan couldn’t bring herself to laugh.

  “You still there?”

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “I’m at the Bel-Air too. I’ll meet you in the lobby with a Bramble in hand.”

  “Thanks. That sounds brilliant.”

  “Let Striker take care of you tonight, Fatale.”

  Merrigan ended the call, wondering what he’d meant. Certainly not in a romantic way, right? They’d been friends for so long that crying on his shoulder when necessary had become second-nature, but only because she saw him as a substitute for her own big brother. If he wanted something different, it would devastate her because she certainly didn’t.

  —:—

  Razor and Mercer were waiting at the house when Kade pulled the SUV into the driveway. He’d asked them to be there to accept delivery of the various equipment he’d ordered for Lena’s care.

  The hospital had given him a list of private nurses that he and Quinn had interviewed together. They’d hired one, earlier that afternoon, and Kade expected she would be arriving shortly if she hadn’t already.

  Quinn sat in the back seat with her mother, who hadn’t said much on the ride from the hospital.

  “Where are we?” she asked when he opened his door.

  When he said, “We’re home, sweetheart,” Quinn shot him a look he chose to ignore.

  Bits and pieces of Lena’s memory had returned, but the majority of it remained blank. She’d accepted Quinn was their daughter, but no matter how often he told her they’d been divorced for several years, she refused to acknowledge they weren’t still together.

  It became a bone of contention between him and Quinn, who insisted he force her mother to accept the truth. No doubt that was what her look was about. There’d be plenty of time for him to straighten it out later. There was no need to get her mother all riled up again.

  Razor approached the SUV with a wheelchair and helped Kade get Lena situated in it.

  “I’ve always loved the bougainvillea,” she murmured as they wheeled her past the garage wall where it grew.

  While Kade considered it one of the isolated memories doctors predicted would pop up, particularly when invoked by sense of smell, clearly, by their facial expressions, Quinn, Mercer, and Razor did not.

  He opened the front door and motioned for Razor to bring her inside. “This way,” he said, leading them to the suite of rooms on the main floor.

  “Where are we?” Lena asked again.

  “This is your room, Mom,” Quinn answered. “Kade got it set up for you with a bed and some of the other things you’ve gotten used to using at the hospital.”

  Lena nodded, but with a pout on her face that Kade hoped he was imagining.

  “Hello, Miss Lena,” came a voice from behind him. The woman approached the wheelchair. “My name is Patsy,” she said, resting her hand on top of Lena’s. “I’m your nurse, and just like at the hospital, I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.

  “Where’s Kade?” Lena asked.

  “I’m here.”

  “Okay.”

  Kade turned around to go back out to the kitchen and came face to face with Paps, who he hadn’t seen in days.

  “When did you get here?”

  “Just now.”

  He walked past him and over to the refrigerator, doubting there was any beer in it, but was pleasantly surprised when he found there was. “Want one?” he asked, pulling two bottles out.

  “Sure, but I brought something stronger.” Paps pulled a bottle of Scotch out of a brown paper bag.

  “That’s more like it.” Kade opened the beers and got glasses out of the cupboard for the Scotch. “I’m not sure where they are, but Razor and Eighty-eight are here somewhere. So is Quinn.”

  Paps scratched his chin and poured.

  “Everything okay?” Kade asked.

  “No.”

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking around as though he was assessing their surroundings. “Let’s go outside.”

  Paps took a drink of his beer. “Where’s Fatale?” he asked once they were seated in patio chairs.

  Kade shrugged because he had no idea. He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d spoken. Had it been yesterday or the day before?
/>
  “I’ve handled it to this point, so you and Leech didn’t have to, but I need to brief you both on what the sheriff’s investigation into Lena’s accident indicates.”

  “Go on.”

  “There is evidence that her car was forced off the road.”

  “Fuck,” he said as his stomach lurched.

  Calder was dead, the Maskhadov faction had been eliminated, and he’d struck a deal with United Russia, so who in the hell would run Lena off the road, and more importantly, why her? The main threat all along had been from Calder, and it wasn’t directed at Lena as much as keeping Quinn’s existence a secret.

  “The question is, was someone trying to harm her, or is this something else entirely,” said Paps.

  “This has to be linked to Animus—whoever the hell that is.”

  Paps nodded.

  “We need to replace the nurse,” Kade said, almost absentmindedly.

  “Agreed.”

  “Why?” he heard Quinn ask from just outside the door that led from the kitchen to where they were seated. Neither he nor Paps had seen or heard her come out.

  “Come sit down,” said Kade, motioning to one of the empty chairs. “What all did you hear?” he asked.

  Quinn’s eyes went back and forth between him and Paps. “Just that we need to hire a new nurse.”

  Kade took a deep breath. Quinn wasn’t a child anymore, and while he would rather her not know what was happening, she deserved to.

  “There is some evidence indicating that your mother’s car was intentionally run off the road.”

  With wide eyes, she looked up at Mercer, who had just come outside. “Why?” she asked again.

  “We’re unsure; however, this means we have to step up security overall.”

  13

  The phone buzzed at least four times during their late lunch, but Merrigan refused to even look at it. She knew Rivet wasn’t calling, because she had a different alert for his calls. It wasn’t Kade either, not that she had a special alert for him; he’d just stopped calling.

  “Answer it,” prodded Striker.

  “No. Whatever it is can wait.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I’ve never seen you so tightly wound, and I’ve seen you in plenty of life-threatening situations. What’s going on? Is it Doc?”

  “No,” she snapped. “Okay, well, yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Talk to me, Fatale.”

  She took a drink of the second or third Bramble he’d ordered for her; she’d lost count, and since she wasn’t driving, she didn’t care how many she had.

  “We can sit here all afternoon and evening if you’d like. Eventually you’ll get pished enough to talk.”

  “All right, what the hell? Remember, later, when you’re bloody well ready to wring my neck, that you asked for this.”

  She let loose and told him everything that had happened. She started with how Kade had left her in the driveway with no way to get into his house, and then didn’t contact her for close to forty-eight hours.

  Every text and phone call they’d had since, she reported in minute detail. She told him how she’d driven to the hospital twice, intending to see him, but left without going inside. And then, finally, she told Striker that she’d gone and let herself fall in love with the bastard who’d probably forgotten all about her.

  “Whew,” he said. “That was quite a story. Feel better now?”

  “Not the slightest.”

  “You need to get laid, sweetheart, and in a hurry.”

  “Griff, I—”

  “Not by me. That wouldn’t do you any good at all. By him.”

  “What are you suggesting? That I prance into the hospital and drag him to the nearest supply closet?” She groaned. Of course that reminded her of when they were in Ramstein and he’d asked if she’d seen one.

  “She’s been released.”

  “How do you…never mind. That was a stupid question.”

  He stared into her eyes, obviously waiting for her next excuse.

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Start by calling him. Tell him you heard that Lena was well enough to be released and that you…uh…how should I put this? You miss him.”

  “God, I don’t know what you were going to say, but I do know it wasn’t that I miss him.”

  “You’re right. You don’t want to know.”

  Merrigan finished what was left of her drink, rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with you?”

  “You know why not.”

  She sat up straight. “I don’t. Tell me.”

  “You would’ve chewed me up and spit me out if I’d given you the chance. There’s only one man who I believe can hold your interest long enough that it might just last forever.”

  Obviously, he meant Kade, since she’d just confessed to being in love with him. “What if he’s already spit me out?”

  “Not a chance. Just look at you.”

  She smiled. Right now she probably looked like a haggard, drunken mess. At least that’s how she felt.

  “You’re beautiful, Fatale. The hardest thing I ever did was let you go, but I knew I had to.”

  “Griffin…”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to escort you to your room, give you a very chaste kiss on the cheek, make sure you lock the door once you’re inside, and slink off to my room. You’re going to call Doc Butler and tell him it’s time he paid attention to you instead of his ex-wife.”

  She definitely wouldn’t be telling him that, but maybe she would call him. She longed to hear his voice, and she was just drunk enough that she might not talk herself out of it.

  “Maybe…”

  “That’s my girl. Actually, you’re not. You’re his girl. Damn, I envy that man.”

  “You don’t mean it,” she murmured.

  “You have no idea how much I do. Come on, let’s go before I change my mind and keep you all to myself, even though I know you’d be miserable,” he muttered.

  Merrigan opened the bottle of water she’d left on the table next to the bed, took a drink, and stared at her phone. She’d been wrong earlier when she didn’t check her phone because she assumed it wasn’t Kade calling. It had been, and he’d left several messages saying first that he needed to talk to her, and then finally, that he had to see her as soon as possible.

  A few minutes ago, she’d been determined to call him. Now, she wasn’t sure. What was with the sudden urgency? Did he, like Striker had said about her, need to get laid too?

  She scrolled through her history to see when he’d last called before today, and wasn’t surprised to see it had been two days ago. The length of the call was even more troubling; they’d only talked for four minutes.

  She rolled over and hugged her pillow. Why had she let herself fall in love with him?

  There was only one other time in her life when she’d thought she was in love, and it had almost destroyed her. She met the man who’d captured her heart in much the same way she’d met Kade, although she hadn’t rescued Sergei Orlov; it had been the other way around. Or it had appeared that way to her at the time.

  When that affair ended, she’d vowed never to allow herself to fall for another agent—CIA, FSB, or even MI6. There was a reason it was forbidden in her line of work, and she’d come close to losing everything because she hadn’t followed the rules.

  With that reminder, she set her phone on the table beside her.

  —:—

  Razor told Kade that Merrigan was in Los Angeles, meeting with Striker. Since K19’s impromptu meeting ended, he’d called her a total of five times, left messages, and sent as many texts.

  Finally, he couldn’t stand her lack of response any longer.

  Where’s Fatale? said the text he sent.

  Bel-Air Hotel, room 1200.

  Thanks, Striker.

  —:—

  Merrigan had drifted off with the television
and bedside light still on. At first she thought she was dreaming when she heard a knock at the door, or maybe it was on the telly, but when she heard it again, louder than before, she got up to see who it was.

  She looked through the peephole, stunned to see Kade was the person knocking.

  “Hi,” she said, releasing the door chain so she could open it all the way. “What are you doing here?”

  “You wouldn’t answer my calls.”

  “How did you know where…never mind. Striker told you.”

  Kade nodded, closed the door, and put his arm around her waist. “We need to talk, but first, I have to do this.” Kade grabbed the back of her neck and covered her mouth with his. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “Kade, we—”

  He kissed her again, harder, and wove his fingers into her long, wavy red hair.

  “Wait,” she said, rolling out from under him.

  “You’re right,” he said, scrubbing his face with his hand. “I need to tell you why I’m here.”

  Merrigan sat up and rested her back against the headboard.

  Kade sat on the edge of the other side of the bed and leaned over to untie his boots. “I’m taking my boots off,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Good. No boots on the bed. It’s bad luck.”

  “I thought it was bad luck to put a hat on the bed.”

  “Oh, you might be right. No boots on the bed anyway.”

  When she smiled, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

  “What?”

  “I love your smile.”

  “You flatter me, Doc.”

  “The name’s Kade, Fatale.” He scooted up, so he was sitting next to her, and reached over and held her hand in his.

  “How is Lena?” she asked.

  “Progressing. It seems as though some of her memory is returning. Today when we got to the house, she said something about how she’d always loved the bougainvillea.”

  “She’s at the house?”

  “Yes.” Kade scrubbed his face with his hand for the second time. “I should’ve started there. She was released from the hospital earlier today, and we brought her to the house to continue her recovery.”

 

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