by Beth Rhodes
He was going to have to show her she could trust him; she could rely on him and on Hawk Elite.
The motorcycle turned over with no problem. He revved it once, checked his gauges, and shot out of there. The bike rumbled under him on the dirt driveway, spitting pebbles as he turned onto the blacktop of the road that would take him to County Road 26 and Portland.
She didn’t know she belonged to Hawk Elite.
It was about time she figured it out.
Chapter Twenty
Through the two-way mirror, Marie looked like crap.
Stringy hair that probably hadn’t been washed in two days.
Dark circles under glazed eyes.
A flush to her cheeks, which put Malcolm on edge. “What did you do to her?”
The officer standing next to him sent him a slow sidelong glance of wariness. “Nothing. She’s been processed and has been sitting in there for the past hour.” He cleared his throat and lifted his brow. “We don’t mistreat the criminals—”
“There’s something wrong with her,” Malcolm interrupted, turning to Hawk. “Get her out of there, right now. She has a bullet wound in her arm and needs a doctor.”
Hawk looked to the officer. “Has she been checked by a doctor?”
Officer James frowned. “No,” he answered slowly. “She refused anything—food, a lawyer, a phone call. She’s been sitting there.” He tilted his head to look more closely at her. “I guess she does look a little worse for wear.”
“A little!” Malcolm’s head about exploded, but Hawk waved him down, and Malcolm turned back to the mirror to watch.
“We had nothing to do but wait after the bureau called. Red tape. Paperwork. And an investigator who’s pretty pissed that his case got blown up.”
“May we see her?” Hawk said.
James hesitated.
“Please,” Hawk added.
Malcolm scowled. They could arrest him. He didn’t give a flying fuck right now.
James sighed and looked at his watch.
Fuck this. She wasn’t a flight risk in her condition—she could hardly sit up straight. Malcolm left the dark room, walked the three long strides to the interrogation room, and yanked the door open.
Marie jumped in the seat, but the movement seemed uncoordinated. Too slow for his quick-witted lady who had quick reflexes. Her brow furrowed. “Mal?”
The door shut behind him when he moved toward her, a slight flutter of panic originating at the point under his heart.
She stood, forgetting she was cuffed to the table, and jerked back into her seat. “Whoops.” She laughed nervously, grimacing in pain.
He pounded on the mirror. “Get these restraints off her and get me a doctor—no. Get John in here, Hawk.”
When he turned back, her head was on the table, as if she was taking a nap. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.
The door opened, and a uniformed man released her from the restraints and then left the room.
Malcolm finally touched her with his hand on her forehead. “Jesus,” he whispered. She turned her face to his palm and cupped her cheek. She was burning up. “Malcolm?” she murmured, blinking. “They got me, but it’s okay. I’d already decided I couldn’t leave you with loose ends. I was going to talk to Hawk and call the cops. Then they came. Did they find you? I cooperated. Did everything they said.
“I gave up the armband, Malcolm, so they wouldn’t find you. Hawk Elite is clear of any wrongdoing. I know it. You know it…”
“Shh,” he whispered, lifting her up off the chair. “I’m proud of you, babe.”
She groaned as he laid her out on the table in the middle of the room and ripped her sleeve from the shirt.
“Ambulance is on the way.” She shook her head. Malcolm leaned over her. “Going to argue?”
Marie stared up at him, glossy-eyed. She lifted a hand and touched his lips. His instinct was to back up, but when pain sliced through her eyes, he leaned back in, took her hand, brought it to his mouth, and kissed it.
John walked in and cleared his throat. “Is this standard operating procedure for you two?”
“We like holding hansss…” she slurred, making Malcolm blush and cover a laugh. She’d been shot in the side while they were in Qatar, too. He hadn’t forgotten.
“He means getting shot,” he said.
She snorted a laugh that turned into another pain-filled moan.
When Malcolm moved to give John room at the table, Marie stopped him, freakishly strong, gripping his hand. He looked up at John with a shrug and stayed put.
John peeled back the gauze, revealing the bullet wound.
“Oh man,” Malcolm said, gut reaction, without thinking. The wound had taken a turn for the worse since the night before. Angry red skin surrounded the jagged opening and extended down to her elbow.
John passed over a small towel from his magic bag and handed Malcolm a bottle of solution. “Pour some over the wound.”
Malcolm did as he was told, familiar with the procedures they used in the field. Basic first aid was a must for everyone at Hawk Elite.
John had a syringe out, and he pulled the soft material of her pants down her hip. He tore open an alcohol swab and wiped an area clean on her hip. When he took the cap off, Malcolm wanted to groan for her.
“Fucking big-ass needle, brother.”
“She’s so out of it, she might not even feel it…”
Malcolm lifted a brow.
“I hope,” John added. “Hold her, would you?”
He was right, though. The needle went in slowly and then John plunged the medication, and the entire time, Malcolm wanted him to fucking hurry up. But Marie barely moved, only tensing under his hands on her shoulder and leg.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s getting in an ambulance, Malcolm, whether she likes it or not. She needs a real doctor watching her for a day or two. But unless something else comes up, she should be fine. You did a good job with her. This isn’t your fault.”
The relief was something he was going to have to deal with. She’d protected him.
How much was he going to make her grovel in order to earn his trust?
Disgust—warranted or not—filled him.
She had to get better. And then maybe it was time to strip away some of the layers. If there was anyone he’d met in his entire life worth those measures, it had to be Marie—the thief. His gypsy.
***
Click.
The sound woke Marie and sent her heart pounding. She lay still, taking account of her surroundings. Dim lights above her head. Cool pillow behind her head. Beeping. A hospital. She forced her breathing to remain normal as she racked her brain.
She’d been at the police station, arrested from her uncle’s home, where she’d left Malcolm hiding in the cliff bunker. But he’d been there…at the police station.
Hadn’t he?
She frowned, the beeping from the machine next to her speeding up.
Squeak.
“Hey, sweetie.” The voice immediately calmed her, and she blew out a breath.
“Stacy.”
Her boss lady’s gentle hand brushed back hair from her forehead. “Good to see you awake.”
“How long have I been out?” Anxiety coursed through Marie. She couldn’t afford to lose time. She had to get to her uncle, had to get the armband back.
“Few hours.”
“Oh, thank God.” She wasn’t sure how to do the things needed done, but one way or another, she was getting her uncle back—after finding out if he’d even survived. She shoved the thought of his death aside. She wouldn’t believe it unless she saw him.
Marie pushed the call button.
“Can I get you anything?” Stacy asked with great patience, as if she’d dealt with an antsy patient before. She had. Her husband. And it would do Marie well to remember Stacy was a very smart and sneaky individual.
Marie forced herself to think. “Where are the guys?”
She’d been le
ft out. It was no one’s fault, really. But it still made her crazy, knowing that, somewhere, Malcolm was making decisions for…whatever happened next. “Did they leave? Is it over? I’ve been arrested.” Her heart pounded, making her arm throb, reminding her of why she was in the hospital in the first place. She lifted the wide sleeve of the hospital gown. The line across her muscle had stitches and the skin was slightly swollen, so it had an awful pinched look, but the angry red was gone. “It looks better, right?”
Stacy smiled and patted Marie’s leg. “Yes. The antibiotics have done wonders. You’re going to live. And Hawk is working on clearing the charges.”
“Why? He can’t. He’ll implicate the company, and I couldn’t—” she stopped the ramble, “I couldn’t stand to be the one to tarnish his reputation.”
She’d stolen the armband from Vladimir Dimitru. She’d even admitted it to the police. She’d never been so uncertain about her place before.
No. Before, she’d known with certainty she didn’t fit in and didn’t belong.
“You scared us,” Stacy said, ignoring her plea.
“I doubt that.” They had probably been relieved. Getting Marie out of the picture…what better way than the natural way—illness, death. “I’ve made a mess of things, and it doesn’t seem to matter I’m trying to do what’s right…now.”
Stacy’s silence had Marie searching for more to say, but she found only a glimmer of pity. “No pity, please. I—” The lump in Marie’s throat almost stopped her. “As Malcolm would say, I fucked up.”
“Did you?” Stacy sat back. “What I see is a woman who is doing everything she can to protect her family. Something Hawk and I can get behind. We know your past.”
Marie tensed.
“We know why, and we know you’ve been clean a long time. We’re not giving up on you.”
Unfamiliar emotion filled her chest, her heart…damn it. She didn’t know what to say.
She cleared her throat. “I—”
The doctor came in, interrupting her and assessing her with his eyes as he approached the bed. She wanted to thank him. Saved by the bell.
“You’re looking much better. How is your arm feeling?”
She had to think about it. “Sore. But not too sore. I mean, it hurts a bit when I move it, but otherwise, it’s fine. You can see. Most of the red is faded. It really is almost as good as new.”
“Don’t tell me. You want to get out of here.” He lifted her chin and used a light to look into her eyes.
“What do you mean? I love it here. I was going to ask if you would be willing to lease this space.”
With a smile, the doctor silenced her by placing his stethoscope over her chest.
God, she was so nervous. What if he didn’t let her go? What if Hawk stepped in and wanted her to stay here instead of get out there to help her uncle?
What if she wasn’t at the assignment briefing to defend her uncle and convince Hawk to help him?
She had to get out of here…even if it meant leaving against medical advice.
Chapter Twenty-One
He’d taken more of her blood and made her wait for the results, but by early afternoon, the doctor released her. The only problem: she was immediately sent back to the police.
So, here she sat…again.
Only this time the seats were cushioned and she wasn’t cuffed to the table. Not an interrogation room, but definitely utilitarian. Stacy had left her but promised to return.
Almost an hour ago.
Marie tapped her foot on the tile floor and wrung her hands in her lap. This was more alone than she’d felt her whole life. She’d always had her uncle only a phone call away. Today…
Not even that.
Marie was sad at first, but as the day lengthened, frustration and anger crept in and planted roots. She didn’t like this feeling. She didn’t like not knowing.
Malcolm still hadn’t shown his face, and though she kept telling herself that it was only a matter of business, the void he left pulled at her…pulled at her temper.
She stood and paced.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. On the next pass of the door, she opened it. A young policeman straightened in front of her. “Who are you?”
“Officer Hart, ma’am. I need you to stay in this room until they’re done processing your paperwork.”
“What kind of paperwork?”
He frowned at her. “Well…” As if he realized maybe he wasn’t supposed to be talking to her, he backed down. “If you could just please stay in the room, ma’am.”
“I don’t want to stay in the room. I’m tired of staying in the room. I’d like to go find my people, please.” She didn’t let the doubt creep in now.
“I can’t allow you to leave.”
She stood up to his tall presence, ticked off and sick of everything, which had developed since she’d entered the Dimitru estate and taken the armband.
She had to look way up. “I demand to speak to your superior.”
As soon as she said it, she regretted it. It sounded so pompous and bratty and spoiled.
The officer sighed. “If you’d like to go sit down on the nice, comfortable chair, I’d be happy to go get him.”
She heard a man clear his throat.
Even as embarrassment flooded her veins, relief and excitement made her blood race, and she turned as Malcolm came in. “I’ve come to collect Marie Feur.” He held out a stack of papers to the officer.
Officer James came around the corner and nodded to the younger cop. “She’s free to go with him.”
“I’ll be good,” she said to the man who had arrested her.
James glanced at Malcolm.
“I’ll make sure she’s good,” Malcolm said.
Marie scoffed but stayed by his side. She’d take it. This close to knowing what was in store for her, she wanted out of there, so Malcolm could tell her everything. What had happened after she was arrested? Had Vladimir been questioned?
Malcolm took her elbow and led her through a series of hallways deeper into the building and then finally out a door. Into an alleyway. They were being discreet.
“We’re not running, are we?” she asked, tongue in cheek.
He grunted and kept going, down the narrow road a ways. The chill wind blew threw her clothes and made her shiver.
Then his arms were around her, and she knew exactly why she was shivering.
She gripped his warm shirt and buried her face into the circle of his arms. “Malcolm,” she breathed his name. “I thought you were mad.”
“I’m mad as hell, Marie. So mad.”
She sniffed, catching his scent. “But you’re hugging me.”
“I guess I’m learning to live with it.”
She felt his smile and the kiss he gently placed on her head. It made her lower her head, resting her forehead on his chest. “Maybe I’m sorry, Malcolm.”
“I know. Maybe I forgive you.” He took her hand and walked toward the car at the curb. She hadn’t recognized the rental, but she did recognize the driver.
“Hello, Jamie,” she said when Malcolm opened the door. “Where are you taking me?”
Malcolm helped her in, lifting her, even though she didn’t really need it, and set her on the seat. “We’re going home,” he answered for their red-headed friend.
Jamie grinned. “Good to see you, lady.”
“Home? Like…my home?” She hadn’t expected to go back. She’d been transferred into FBI custody.
“Yeah. But don’t worry. The FBI is going to meet us there. You’re not in the clear yet.”
She might have scowled to humor his ribbing, but instead she grinned as she sat back.
This was more like it.
***
Back in the kitchen of her childhood home, Marie poured a cup of coffee. “So, why here?”
“The FBI needed an out-of-the-way place,” Hawk said from his seat at the table, where he had a laptop open and headphones on. “With Dimitru having contacts
in the police, the FBI has kept their investigation under wraps. And they want Vladimir to think you’ve been released.”
She knew he had some kind of voice software that would read the screen for him. It was one of the ways he compensated for his vision loss when even the large font failed him. She wasn’t sure how much he could see, but knew there was some vision. This wasn’t the first time she realized he didn’t need to see. His power was in his name, in his connections.
His words finally penetrated. They want him to think I was released.
“You mean…they want to use me?”
“No one’s going to force you to do anything,” Stacy quickly added.
“I’ll do anything—for one favor.”
“Making demands already?” Malcolm stepped in with a frown on his face.
“No,” she answered quickly. “Sort of. Okay, yes. I want my uncle back.” She hesitated. “And if not him, then I want the armband back.”
She wasn’t certain, but she thought a freaking hole in the ground might be a good place for it.
Dimitru had been ready to kill for the damn thing. She’d never understood the obsession. To her, it was merely a reminder of the past, of her family’s roots.
But for a man like Dimitru, there was the power of the myth, reaching into his black soul and making him a believer in things that were invisible, in the promise of riches and wealth.
Complete stinky horseshit. There was no power, no protection. It was all lies. But they were her lies now. Her family’s stories and legends. The gold amulet belonged to her uncle. She couldn’t let him die for nothing.
“This is so awesome!” Craig’s muffled voice sounded through the wall behind the stone fireplace on the west side of the kitchen. The tunnel to the bunker.
Marie rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You showed them,” she accused Malcolm.
“How could I not?”
She shrugged. “Good question. I always wanted to show my friends. Uncle Bert never let me.”
