Strike Force

by Beth Rhodes

  Marie moaned and half rolled to her side as if to get up. Malcolm put a hand on her shoulder.

  “How is she?” Hawk asked.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Take care of yourselves. We’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll be glad when you get here.” He didn’t know what he needed, but a buffer between him and Marie would be a good start.

  “Watch your back, brother,” Hawk said, and hung up.

  Malcolm took a second to text their address.

  “I’m sorry about all of this.”

  “So you said.”

  “What a cluster.” Marie groaned and fumbled to sit up. When he went to help her, she scowled at him. “You knew I’d gone in for the armband.”

  He ignored the show of emotion and shrugged. “Got a call. Here,” he said, then helped her out of the hoodie and the shirt. He touched the skin through the armband. “Swelling’s gone down a bit. Want to try to get it off?”

  With a grimace, she nodded.

  “I’m going to press the armband from your underarm, take the pressure off the bullet wound, and then we’ll slide it down—hopefully.” He grimaced. “Sorry—”

  “Do it.”

  Marie relaxed her arm, and he applied firm pressure to the back, lifting the band enough to get it to move down. The first ring got caught on the wound, so he took his other hand and helped her skin lie flat with his finger. She moaned, squeezed her eyes shut, and then blew out a breath. One more ring over the wound, and the band slid down past her elbow to sit at her wrist.

  Tough. He’d expected no less. The wound spilled blood again, and he grabbed the towel next to him and pressed it against the gash. “Hold it there.”

  Her fingers brushed his hand as she took the towel, and he ignored the ache that went through him at the touch. He took the gauze and tape from the box on the floor at his feet and went back to the first-aid job.

  Under the gauze in the box, he found a bottle of alcohol. Opening it, he looked into her eyes. “Ready?”

  She nodded, and he poured quickly then dried it with one of the gauze. He was liberal with the Neosporin, then wrapped the arm in gauze, taped it, took the Ace bandage, and wrapped the arm again. “Want some Tylenol?”

  “I can get it.” She scooted forward, getting her feet under her. “I’m not an invalid.”

  “You did pass out, though…weakling.”

  Marie blew a raspberry his way.

  “We have to leave.” She opened her mouth, an argument in her eyes, but he stopped her. “To the bunker.”

  She relaxed. “Hiding in plain sight?”

  “No. Just hiding,” he said. “Hawk has a team coming tomorrow, and you need rest. We’ll be safe enough down there until then.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Was he sure? Not really. But at the same time, Vladimir was gone. Malcolm only had his experience in situations like this…and his gut. And his knives and her guns. “I guess we’re taking our chances.” He shrugged. “I believe the chances are good Vladimir will hole up. He’ll need to take account of his losses and try to figure out where we are.”

  “Not exactly a sure thing.”

  Why was he being so protective? She’d lied to him. “There’s a safe house—”

  “But you don’t want to go there,” she said, and he looked at her in surprise.

  “No,” he admitted. “I don’t trust that West Coast Security isn’t being watched by Dimitru. And I’ve never worked with them, so—Hawk aside, because he’s all the way on the other side of the fucking country right now—”

  She snorted a laugh.

  “—I’m not ready to put our fucking lives in anyone else’s hands.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  Just like that.

  “I’ll take first watch so you can sleep,” he added. In Qatar, he’d watched her stay awake for an entire twenty-four-hour stretch. They’d all reached their limit over there. But she’d shown she could be part of the team. It had been the first operation he’d done with her, and he’d had to trust her.

  She’d had his back.

  Now, he didn’t know. “Come on.”

  Marie followed him upstairs, and he tried to ignore the warmth of her behind him. He went to open the closet door then added an extra shove with a grunt. Old jackets had been tossed aside. The stack of boxes, off to the side before, were the reason for the grunting. Lots of books. Some photo albums. And Christmas decorations cluttered the small space.

  “Geez,” she said, a little breathlessly.

  “But they didn’t find the access door.”

  “They were close, though.”

  True. He couldn’t deny it. Luck or ingenuity. He was going to have to go with ingenuity. Uncle Bert had done well to protect her…in this regard, anyway.

  They took what little they’d brought, hauling their few items into the earth below the house and cliffs. Malcolm grabbed something to tide them over in the food department as well, a bag of apples from the fridge and a box of snacks. It wasn’t exactly a luxury suite, but Marie brought down an old army mat and settled on it under a wool blanket. Her eyes slowly closed.

  He ripped open the box of Oreos and opened a small sleeve of the cookies.

  “Do you think he’s alive?” Her question forced him to stop chewing. She’d propped herself up on her elbow.

  “I don’t know, babe,” he answered truthfully, the endearment coming off his tongue with little regard for the fact he wasn’t happy with her.

  Marie cleared her throat and looked him in the eye as she hadn’t since she’d walked through the door. “I never wanted this.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant… this, being a life of crime? Her uncle hurt? Being stuck here with him? The armband?

  Maybe it didn’t matter. She’d made her choices, and they felt oddly familiar.

  He’d had a long time to learn how to guard against this kind of betrayal and had been sure no woman would affect him the same way again.

  Well, he was right.

  This time hurt way more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She slept lightly, the throb in her arm reminding her of Malcolm, who also had his share of scars. Did his chest still bother him? He’d had no more episodes since the return from overseas. As pissed as she’d been at him for not being forthcoming about his blackouts while they were in Qatar, their return to the States had been like a turning point for him; every day he was stronger and more confident.

  Which made his anger that much scarier and harder to face. She’d lied to herself and lied to him. She hadn’t been able to walk away; she’d underestimated him.

  Had she really thought he would leave for Raleigh without looking back?

  Yes.

  Yes indeed. Why had he come back? He could have reported to Hawk she’d gone rogue and washed his hands of her. Why hadn’t he?

  As quietly as possible, she sat up and looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She blinked and saw Malcolm on the bench her uncle had installed against the stone wall of the cave. Uncle Bert had been strict. This wasn’t a place for friends, not a place to play. Only two times had they used this cave before…

  The night her parents died and Uncle Bert had rescued her on that dark road. They’d come here. And again when she was in high school and Uncle Bert had come back from a job. His last job, he’d said.

  Whatever he’d done had left someone ticked. She’d never gotten the details. His close-mouthed anger had been her first experience of doubt. Questioning everything, she hadn’t known what to trust. Though she’d loved her uncle, she’d wanted to break away.

  Her throat closed at the memories.

  She would do anything to go back and have one regular day with Uncle Bert. The ones where they’d wake up and have an early breakfast, then maybe take a ride up the coast and pretend they were off to conquer Canada. Sometimes, they’d imagine they were on the run and the cops were on their tails.
r />   A smile broke the tear loose, making it fall down her cheek.

  She was going to have to go back to Vladimir Dimitru’s home and find out if her uncle was still alive. She had to save him.

  Marie picked up the armband. She would use whatever she had to get him back.

  On tiptoe, she made her way to the ladder and then looked back. The morning glow that filled the cave from the opening at the water was beginning to break the darkness, and the form of Malcolm, lying on the bench, his arms under the back of his head, his feet crossed, shifted.

  She stopped…and waited.

  When he didn’t move again, she made her way up the ladder. She couldn’t take him with her.

  No. She’d started this. He might want to intervene and right her wrongs…or whatever it was he was thinking when he looked at her with those fuck-me eyes filled with storms of disapproval. But what if something happened to him because of her? What if he got caught up in her mess?

  When she reached the hatch above, she slid the lock and quietly crossed into the hall closet.

  In her bedroom, she stopped. She could smell his cologne. His scent had lingered, and now it surrounded her. He’d taken a chance, getting to know her and then showing her he cared. Whether he would admit it or not, he cared for her more than he’d wanted to fuck her.

  That was why he’d come back.

  The armband warmed in her hand, making her heart beat fast and hard. It represented everything wrong in her life, everything wrong with this weekend. She wanted to throw it out the small porthole window and watch it disappear over the cliffs.

  It would probably hit the back porch, bounce from the old station wagon, and land in her uncle’s wildflower garden, with her luck right now.

  Marie sighed as she slid it up on her arm, touching it as she forced the memories of her mother up from their buried place in her mind.

  “It’s only gold, baby…but it’s also magic.”

  The armband came off more easily this time.

  Was she going to leave Malcolm behind?

  For this gorgeous piece of cursed metal?

  For an uncle who was most likely dead?

  “You’ve been under my skin for a long time,” he’d admitted only days ago in the dark quiet of the barn out back. “Stay out of trouble, Marie Feur. You got it?” The playful tug on her hair and the feel of his arms around her were hard to ignore right now as she stared down at the spiral band with a snake head on one end.

  She dug through the back of her closet, back further, all the way to the corner, where she pulled a false panel from the wall, retrieved an old wooden box from the cubby hole, and carefully placed the amulet against the black satin lining.

  Tonight was not for betrayal.

  It was time to follow someone else’s standards: Hawk’s, Malcolm’s…

  The rumble of a motor—no, motors—filled her room. Marie frowned and then jumped at the pounding on the front door. “What in the world?”

  She slipped to the side of the window and, glancing out, found the yard filled with bright, flashing lights. This wasn’t good. Nope.

  Her palms started to sweat.

  A shadow moved under her window.

  The pounding started again.

  At the sound of wood ripping from the front of her house, she shrieked.

  Uncle Bert had trained her to evade, trained her to run. But this time, anger blossomed in her chest. She feet took her, without a second thought, for the stairwell. “Hey,” she barked as she went down.

  “Freeze! Get down! Freeze, freeze!” Cops swarmed her foyer, all guns aimed her way.

  Marie’s hands automatically went up, her heart in her throat.

  The biggest guy in the place came forward, and she couldn’t help but stumble back like a scared mouse. All the guns in the room shifted again, tensing in those trigger-happy.

  “Don’t shoot—” She panicked, life flashes screaming through her. And the man was on her, turning her and patting her down. She grunted when hands rode up her legs, and then groaned when he found the gun at the small of her back. “I have a permit,” she said.

  The guy made a noise as he finished and handed off her hand gun to another officer. “Marie Feur, you are under the arrest for unlawful entry and larceny. You have the right to remain silent.”

  Shit. Shit. The cuffs circled her wrists and snapped shut as the familiar warning continued.

  A shiver ran up her spine. They had it all wrong.

  They had her, and now she had to get them out of her house as quickly as possible. The longer this took, the more likely that Malcolm would come up her ladder and walk in on this. He would be incriminated and taken in as well. They might even charge him as an accessory.

  No. She couldn’t let it happen.

  When the big guy—Officer James, the nametag said—gestured to the other cops, they moved to search the house.

  “It’s upstairs,” she said, trying to sound resigned and defeated. “Bedroom on the left, back corner of the closet—false panel.”

  Officer James looked at her, and she might have seen a glimmer of amusement.

  “I can show you,” she said. Anything to get you out of here. When his gaze turned suspicious, she widened her eyes a smidge and shrugged. “It’s mine, by the way. And I’ll prove it. He stole it first.”

  Apparently a man of few words, James rolled his eyes. “Check it out,” he finally spoke and one of the younger officers moved. In a matter of minutes, he returned, holding the box.

  Officer James was gentle this time when he put a hand on her arm and walked her out the front door. Oddly, she wasn’t afraid. Her year with Hawk had taught her to trust the good guys like she hadn’t for a long time. And she had hope. She had family. Someone would come for her.

  Lights still flashed, and she squinted against the glare. The cold of the early morning hit her bones.

  “Step,” Officer James said, and she went down the rickety steps to the front walk, where he opened the door and helped her sit in the back of the cop car.

  The door shut with a resounding thud. Scared or not, it made her throat close, and she blinked hard as she stared at her childhood home. Her uncle might be dead. Now she’d been arrested. Malcolm was going to eventually wake up and come looking for her…

  And she was going to be gone.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she rubbed it away. She regretted not waking him up, but at the same time she was grateful she hadn’t. She was so messed up right now.

  When she’d finally decided to do the right thing, to come clean.

  She’d wanted to turn to Hawk and call the police for help.

  But the police found her first.

  Vladimir. He had everything to do with this. He hadn’t exactly gone to ground. No. He’d sucker-punched her. He was that cocky. Or maybe his power had grown? Maybe he was tugging those invisible strings, and no one would care about a washed-up old man and his thief of a niece.

  They wouldn’t believe her.

  They had no reason to.

  Marie wiped her cheek on her shoulder and forced herself to stop crying. She’d handled a lot in her life. This might be a setback, but it wasn’t her end game.

  Swallowing, she watched Officer James approach the car.

  He took the front seat and, without a word, did a three-point turn in her front yard. Movement in her peripheral vision had her sitting up straight and watching the trees near the barn. She frowned, straining to see through the dim light of the sun breaking over the horizon and filtering through the clouds. Only branches moved in the wind.

  Her head hurt.

  She sat back…

  And started working a plan B in her head.

  ***

  “Fuck!” Malcolm watched from the north side of the house as the last car finally pulled away. A breeze blew off the water, chilling his wet skin. “Fuck,” he said again. The place was completely empty. They’d done a brief search. Had they even had a warrant?

  She’d give
n up, surrendered too easily. Not even an argument for provenance, which seemed to be a mantra whenever the topic of the fucking armband came up between them.

  There could only be one reason.

  Him.

  The anger and pain of her betrayal made for a funny turn, which he was inclined to ignore.

  His phone vibrated and, after checking the screen, he answered, “Hawk. They took Marie.”

  “Who?”

  “Sherriff, Portland. I don’t know.”

  Hawk spoke to someone with him, then said, “We landed twenty minutes ago and were going to head out to you.”

  “I’ll meet you in town.” No fucking way was anything going to happen without Malcolm knowing about it.

  Hawk gave him the address of the West Coast Security safe house. “We’ll get her back.”

  Malcolm understood what wasn’t being said. Hawk had no idea if they’d be able to clear her name. She’d done the deed. She might have to pay. “See you in an hour.”

  His boss cleared his throat.

  “Fine. Hour and a half.”

  “Don’t let this woman make you a dumbass, Malcolm. Drive safely.”

  “Yes, sir.” Was he being a dumbass?

  She’d definitely taken him on a roller-coaster ride. He wanted to strangle her as much as he wanted to protect her…no, to get her beneath him again and take her as if the world was about to end. His stomach clenched. “Get a hold of yourself,” he whispered as he crossed the porch and went to retrieve their belongings. He looked everywhere for the armband, wanting it in his possession.

  But it wasn’t where she’d put it last night, as if she’d left this morning with it, in order to go back and trade it for her uncle. Even though they’d decided against it. He’d urged her to wait for Hawk.

  A heavy feeling sat in his chest. He hated to label it, but it felt an awful lot like sadness, and more than feeling the ache of betrayal, pity rested against his heart.

  He wasn’t sure how many straws there were, because with her record, she seemed to always be drawing the last one.

  Was this the last straw?

  He shook his head as he brought his messenger bag into the kitchen and set it on the table. He had his laptop. Her pack went on the table as well, and he added his clothing to her bag. They’d have to share for the time being. One bag went over his shoulder, the other on his back, and then he locked up and went out the back door.