by India Kells
Once Dylan was half-sitting, half-lying on the large sofa, Lance straightened as Luke crouched in front of her, and Owen settled beside her, putting pillows behind her back, careful not to touch her … too close nonetheless. A whiff of his familiar scent mixed with expensive female perfume caught her nose. Luke distracted her by prodding around her knee.
“Can you get me a pair of scissors?” Lance nodded before going into the kitchen. “I fear I’ll have to cut your pants off.”
“Cut away. Anything to help you go faster.”
Lance reappeared with mean looking scissors, and Luke started cutting away. Dylan was apprehensive to see her knee. She needed to be mobile, but the hit and the pain might make her situation even more complicated.
When her knee appeared, Dylan sighed at the blueish hue of her skin and definite swelling.
“Well, it’s not as bad as I expected.”
She blinked at Luke’s observation. “Thanks, Doc, but from my point of view, and how it feels, I tend to disagree.”
Ignoring her, Luke poked around the worst part of the swelling. “I guess the hit was higher, just above the knee. But I don’t know if there is anything broken. I need to have an X-ray, just in case.”
Owen shook his head. “Impossible to go to a clinic.”
“Yeah, I guessed as much, but if there is something broken …”
“What about a portable X-ray machine?”
All eyes turned to Lance who shrugged, rocking on his heels.
“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t have a machine in my back pocket. But we’re in the country, plenty of horses around. And veterinarians have portable X-ray machines. All we have to do is find one.”
Luke nodded. “I can work with that. But do you know any veterinarians in this area?”
“My best guess is to call Dr. Connell. He’s a veterinarian I know from my cooking class and I have his phone number.”
Dylan froze at Mary’s voice from the staircase. And she thought they had been quiet. That must be the mother gene. Or the infamous Sorenson sneaky talent. But beyond the two brothers now immobile in the living room, it was the expression of sheer panic on Luke’s face that made Dylan forget her predicament for a minute.
As nobody dared to speak, Dylan smiled apologetically at her. “Good morning, Mary. Sorry to have woken you up.”
Mary smiled at her as she came in the living room, tightening the belt of her pale blue robe, assessing the scene before her. “You look in much pain, my dear. Lance, my boy, go get my phone book. You’ll find the number you need.”
Lance hesitated for an instant, and with one last glance at Luke, went into the kitchen. Then, Mary turned to the young doctor, still kneeling on the floor, and extended her hand.
“And you, young man, you are?”
Quickly, Luke wiped his hand on his jeans before taking hers. “I’m Luke, I’m a doctor.”
“Very pleased to meet you. And happy you could come so quickly. What happened to you, Dylan? It’s your knee, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a blow to the knee. I just hope it’s not broken.”
“It must hurt; I’ll go get you ice.”
Dylan observed Mary going into the kitchen and turned to Owen. “I dare say, your mother doesn’t ask a lot of questions.”
Owen looked at her before turning his gaze to where his mother had disappeared. “Don’t let that fool you. Mary Sorenson may appear to let it all go, but once everything has calmed down, she’ll make sure she gets satisfactory answers. Wanting it or not.”
Chapter 27
Dylan could have wept in gratitude when the X-rays didn’t show any breaks. As Luke had suspected, the hit had been just an inch above her knee, but the swelling and contusion impacted her joint greatly. He injected her with a painkiller and wrapped her knee for more support while avoiding putting pressure on the thigh. With the ice, she would be able to walk on it at least.
At the kitchen table with a high-power laptop someone had found for her, her leg propped on a chair and pillows, Dylan was done being invisible. She may not have her usual firepower, but she was adamant at finding her attacker. And her first step was to log back into Maison Amaryllis servers and hack into the security system. On one of the camera feeds, she would be able to see the brown-haired girl and then use the image to run face recognition.
Mac came in and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Do you want one?”
Looking around, Dylan realized that they were alone in the bright, homey kitchen. She rubbed her eyes and decided that her system needed the kick, especially since she didn’t get any shuteye last night.
“Yeah, please. One milk, one sugar.”
“Right up.”
Dylan finished typing a sequence, but stole a look at Mac as she prepared both mugs. Her red hair in a ponytail, dressed casually in cropped jeans and green T-shirt, never would anybody think that one of the most lethal snipers in the world was in this country kitchen. And Dylan didn’t want to even begin to realize how she looked. It took all her might to take a shower, especially with Owen nearby, but she was glad for Mary’s loose cargo pants and soft black T-shirt. Too worried to fuss over her hair, she tied them up in a half knot, letting curling tendrils of dark brown hair frame her face.
“Where is everybody?”
“Luke has gone back to his place, but if you want my opinion, he fled before Mary could discover that he’s having an affair with her son. The wimp! Mary and Lance have gone shopping for supper, something she wanted to cook for her boys. Wesley has gone for a run, which I think is crazy in this scorching weather. It’s so hot now, I think the sun is melting concrete this time of day. And Owen has vanished. So that leaves you and me in the house. Alone.”
Her tone had changed, and Dylan sensed that questions were on the way.
“Alone so you can inquire about what happened last night? I wondered how long everyone would tiptoe around me, evading questions. Especially you, Mac.”
The Purgatory sniper sat before her at the table, and pushed the second steaming mug in her direction. “Well, I don’t know you that much. You have to admit, at Purgatory, you’re seen more like a legend than a real person. And feared, too.”
Sitting back, Dylan rubbed her face. “Mac, I wouldn’t hurt any of you.”
“We never saw you face-to-face, apart from Beatrice. And with all you accomplished, the missions you did, even the government is afraid of you. You have the power of finding the darkest secrets of anyone on the planet, and even twist the truth if you want to, making it appear black or white, or any color in between.”
“I never did that! Well, not on good, decent people anyway.”
“But you could. That knowledge alone puts people who want to confront you in a strained position.”
“That’s not fair! I believe in justice, otherwise I wouldn’t have been a cop all those years.”
Mac nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “If I ask questions, you won’t empty my bank account or change my name for Jack the Ripper?”
Dylan’s lips twitched. “No, I won’t even if I’m pissed at you. The only exception is if you threaten people I love or Purgatory, otherwise you have nothing to fear from me.”
The red-haired woman took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Good to know. I knew deep down that it is your nature. I’ve worked alongside you on many missions. And for every other account I heard, my understanding was that you were not a megalomaniac psycho.”
What could she answer to that? “Well, thanks. I guess.”
“Now, care to tell me what happened last night?”
Dylan sighed. “Not the kind of woman to beat around the bush, are you?”
“Not when the man I love, and his family may be impacted somehow.”
Dylan couldn’t deny the change in Mac’s behavior. A steely resolution rose inside of her, and she understood why. Perfectly.
“Mac, I didn’t want any of this to happen. At first, I accepted Beatrice’s help, and she sent me Owen. I didn
’t know that it would later involve the entire Sorenson clan. I’ll speak to Beatrice. I’ve worked alone all my life. I’m used to it.”
“I didn’t ask you to leave, Dylan. And none of the Sorenson brothers need protection. Neither do I. But from all the work I’ve done with Purgatory, especially in the last two years, I’ve learned that secrets, and half-truths are more dangerous than a gun pointed at your head.”
“Not everything concerning last night is mine to tell, Mac. As what I’m able to tell, the more I think about it, the more I feel I’m always two steps behind. And crucial information is missing to top it off. But for the first time since the cyberattacks at Purgatory, I have a face. Leverage, something to search.”
“Good, that’s good! But why aren’t you all fired up about it?”
And that bit she couldn’t reveal. It required her going through the camera feeds of Maison Amaryllis, which she had finally downloaded into her computer. But to find the brown-haired girl, she would have to go through the feeds, and through them, there were images of Owen, half-naked, seriously making out with his former boss. And the bad bit, one she would never admit it to anyone as she barely admitted to herself, it made her want to cry and kick the slut’s butt at the same time. And the why was even more frightening. Owen Sorenson had slid himself under her scarred and damaged skin, and found his way to very tender spot deep inside of her chest.
“Dylan?”
She closed her eyes at her name and took a deep breath. What could she tell, what must she hide? Tired, she put her head in her hands.
“It’s difficult, isn’t it?”
Frowning, Dylan peeked through her fingers. “Can you be more specific about what part is?”
“I can think of several ones, but let’s start with the obvious. Asking for help isn’t a sin, Dylan. Sometimes, there is no other choice than to fold, or to lean.”
“You make it sound so easy. But in my case, it never has been. Not since the nasty part of my existence.”
“I could never begin to fathom what you went through. But we’re here now. You’re surrounded by Sorensons. And the youngest has it in his mind to battle by your side.”
“That may not be a good idea.”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you may not have a choice in the matter. If Owen is like Wes, you have a knight at your side, want it or not. And because I’ve been in your shoes, my advice is to grab your sword and take the lead. Personally, I don’t want a knight fighting my dragon for me, I prefer to have him by my side, as we fight the beast together.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Are you telling me that the Sorenson brothers are stubborn, hard-headed, infuriating men? Shocking!”
Mac laughed. “Happy to see you got your humor back. And as I suspect the brothers will be back sooner than later, I suggest we get to work, at least the stuff you don’t want them to know.”
“Mac, I don’t want to force you to lie to your husband. Because that’s what I’m going to ask you to do.”
She seemed to ponder on it for a moment. “I don’t want to lie to him either, but he’s not there. And if he doesn’t ask … You get my drift? And I promise you that until you decide to tell, I will bring your secret to my grave.”
Dylan looked long and hard before nodding, resigned.
“Okay, now, spill the beans, you mighty hacker.”
Dylan took a deep breath and started to tell her from the beginning, the pursuit, until the reveal of Maison Amaryllis. If Mac was stunned by the information, she kept it to herself. Instead, it was clear that her mind was in full gear.
“First, let me tell you that the whole situation sucks. And I don’t know how I would react if Wes had done what Owen did for a living.”
“Yeah, I thought that, too. But the thing is, in his situation, I would probably have done the same.”
Sighing, Mac leaned back on her chair. “Yeah, the trouble is, me too. And what happened yesterday, that would have been on the camera recordings. Not necessarily something you would want to see.”
“I don’t know why it should matter. It’s not as if we were in any kind of serious relationship.”
Mac nodded, but sarcasm won over compassion. “Maybe if you repeat it long enough, you may convince yourself.”
Annoyed, Dylan straightened on her chair. “I don’t like you anymore. And if you continue, I may turn rogue on you.”
“And if you do, I’ll find you and put a bullet in your car tires. All four of them.”
Dylan’s mouth curved up. “As I don’t have a car, that’s an empty threat. And it’s impossible to blow four tires with a single bullet.”
“You think. I won’t be fooled; I saw how you got scared at my threat.”
Shaking her head, Dylan turned back to her screen. What had to be done, had to be done. Her fingers hovered for a moment to ultimately press the key.
Mac scooted by her side as the first feed popped up on the screen. Front lobby.
“Wrong camera, I probably need the one aiming at the back alley.”
“Wait, run the front lobby first, just to make sure your intruder has not come in using the main entrance.”
Dylan arched an eyebrow. “I told you she came in from the back. Just say that you want to see what Owen did earlier in there.”
Mac crossed her arms, defiant. “And you, be honest, and tell me you don’t want to see.”
Dylan didn’t answer, but let the feed roll. She would probably have nightmares about it anyway. So better get it over with.
She put it on fast forward until the time Owen appeared on the screen. There was no sound and the colorless images were blurry at times. For what Dylan could see, the amount of money inside, she wondered why Amaryllis never invested in a better security system sooner.
As Owen walked in, his posture seemed relaxed enough, but Dylan knew that if she could see his eyes, he would be scanning, restlessly. Assessing the situation as if the threat could come at him, at any time.
Then, the woman she knew to be Amaryllis, appeared on the screen. She may have been much older than Owen, but the tight pencil skirt and white shirt revealed that she invested a lot in her body. She undulated toward Owen as a siren on the prowl. It was impossible not to look at her. Her charisma and beauty transcended the black and white images. Her hands glided from his shoulders to his hands, before caressing their way back, settling on his chest. Dylan felt like snarling, but kept silent. Unfortunately, she must have made a sound as Mac touched her hand, making her jump.
“Stop that, or you won’t have any teeth left.”
Dylan exhaled slowly, trying to relax. “I’m being stupid.”
“Stupid, no. Blind, yes.”
On that statement, Dylan turned her head. “What do you mean, blind? I can see what’s happening on the screen.”
“Yeah, I guess, but your eyes are glued on her. Take a look at Owen. Don’t you see something off?”
Dylan turned her attention on him, changing feed as they moved, in what appeared to be the secluded lounge. It resembled the one she had barged in, but she couldn’t be certain. Also, they seemed to speak a lot, and Dylan wondered is she should have kept her mike on.
Dylan saw Amy leading him to a long sofa, pulling him down beside her. But it took only a second for her to hunch her skirt up and straddle his lap. From the camera angle, all she could see was her back and Owen’s arms and legs. Obviously, they were kissing, intensely. But following Mac’s advice, she looked at him, or rather what she could see of him; he wasn’t touching her. Both his arms were still on the sofa, closed into fists. Amaryllis seemed really into it because when she straightened, the Madam started working on unbuttoning Owen’s shirt, pulling on his tie.
“I can’t believe it. How did you guess it?” Dylan murmured almost to herself, as Mac scooted closer.
“It’s my job to observe. I’m good at it. And I have the advantage of some distance. I like Owen, but he’s my brother-in-law, I don’t have the same emotional involvement
as you, even if you stubbornly deny it.”
Dylan swallowed hard. She had an emotional involvement. And seeing how Owen reacted to Amaryllis, it didn’t sit well with her, but she better understood. As he told her it was a job. She saw how his persona changed just before he got in. And it was so different than who he was when they were together. Once he gained her trust and assent, he wouldn’t allow her to avoid his hands, his touch. She could still feel them on her skin. And when he kissed her, his whole body took over; he plastered himself against her, trying to touch every inch of her with every one of his. How could he reconcile those two parts of himself? Or maybe he couldn’t. That may be why he disconnected. Now, because of her reaction to what she saw, Owen must have been in an uncomfortable place. And that was entirely on her.
