by G. K. Parks
Mark made a sound, or at least I thought he did, so I shut up, straining to hear if he’d do it again. His vitals hadn’t changed. More than anything, I needed him to be okay. I needed him back with us.
Martin stepped into the room and squeezed onto the couch beside me. “Do you want to talk about it now?”
“I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but a protection detail will just get in my way. And someone’s going to get hurt. I can take care of myself. I have to. Steele nearly killed someone else tonight. He’s watching my every move.”
“All the more reason to have Cross Security shadowing you.”
“No. He’ll get confused. He’ll think they’re cops, and he’ll lose his temper. Do you understand?”
“What I understand is a killer gave the love of my life a phone and thinks he can tell her what to do and where to go.”
“You know I don’t let anyone dictate terms.”
“From time to time, I’d prefer if you were a little less headstrong.”
“Ditto.”
A grin tugged at the corners of Martin’s mouth, and he leaned in and kissed me. “I will worry less if a Cross Security team is following you.”
“And I’ll worry more. About me. About them. About what Steele’s going to do next. I’ll be distracted. Do you want that?”
“No.” He sighed. “I’ll tell Cross to follow your lead, but give careful consideration to your actions. They affect me too.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Promise?”
“Anything for you, handsome.”
He snorted. “Liar.”
I shrugged. “I still can’t believe you signed with Cross. You’re business partners. That’s not kosher. Haven’t you realized Cross has his own agenda? I don’t know what it is. I thought it was signing you, and then I thought it was getting access to your R&D. But I’m not sure anymore.”
“Let me worry about Cross. You have enough on your plate.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “I haven’t seen you this exhausted in a long time.”
“Again, ditto.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“A little. You?”
“Does coffee and pastry count?”
“Sure.”
“Then yes.” He lost himself in my eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“You’re delirious from hunger and sleep deprivation.”
He nuzzled my neck before pulling back for a real kiss.
Mark made a gagging noise.
I shoved Martin away, jumping off the couch and crouching beside the bed. “Mark?” I turned to Martin, frantic. “Get a doctor.”
“No doctor,” Mark said through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes. “The two of you should get a room that isn’t this one. You’re making me sick.”
My jaw dropped, and I stared open-mouthed at him.
Martin stood beside the bed. “You’re awake. Thank god.”
“Debatable.” Mark groaned.
“You’re okay? Do you remember what happened?” I asked.
“Francisco Steele,” Mark said. “Son of a bitch shot me. I saw him walk away. He left the phone dangling, taunting me, knowing I couldn’t call for help. He spoke to you, didn’t he?”
I bit my lip, fighting back my emotions. “Yes.”
“The police are searching for him. Moretti has all of major crimes on it. The OIO and FBI are assisting,” Martin volunteered.
“Lucca came to help.” My chin quivered.
“Steele wants you dead,” Mark said. “All of us. We destroyed him. He’s getting payback.”
“I won’t let him.” A tear fell. I had so much to tell Mark, but I didn’t want to break his heart by telling him about Cooper. Not yet. “He went after Lawson tonight, but we stopped him.”
“Hey, I’m okay, Alex. Come here. Give an old man a hug.” I put one arm around his collarbone and rested my head on his shoulder. He clutched my arm, and I fought to keep the tears from falling. “Don’t start blubbering or I’ll start blubbering,” he said.
“I won’t, but don’t you ever scare me like that again, Jablonsky. I’ll kick your ass if you do.”
I held on to Mark. He didn’t protest, but when he groaned, I tried to pull away. But he held tight to my arm. “Steele wants revenge. He wants you,” he whispered. “He won’t stop until he finds you.”
“I know, but Steele’s the one who needs to worry.”
Mark let go of my arm, and I withdrew, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand as nonchalantly as possible. His eyelids fluttered. “God, I’m tired.”
“It’s okay. You need to rest,” Martin said. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Mark fought against his heavy lids. “Marty, I love ya, but if I have to wake up to your face one more time, I might just decide not to wake up. Go home. Both of you. The two of you look worse than I do.”
“How would you know? You can’t see yourself,” I teased. “How’s your head? Is anything fuzzy? What’s eighteen times five?”
Jablonsky glared at me, though it was that teasing glare I hadn’t seen in far too long. “Do I look like a calculator?”
“The doctors want to check you out first, and then we’ll go,” Martin said, watching as the nurse and one of the doctors appeared in the doorway. “Do you think you can stay awake for a few more minutes?”
“Only if they hurry,” Mark said.
While the doctors asked questions, Martin and I stood unobtrusively in the corner and watched. “He’s tired and in pain,” I said. “I thought they wanted to keep him sedated.”
“Different doctors. Different recommendations.”
“You knew he’d wake up?”
“I suspected, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
I leaned my head back against Martin’s chest, glad his arms were tight around my waist supporting me from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. “Do you think he’s okay? He seems okay. He remembers us and what happened.”
The doctor finished the exam. We said good night to Mark and went into the hallway. “We’ll keep monitoring him, but he’s not exhibiting any signs of brain damage,” the doctor said. “His last scan didn’t show any lesions or bleeds. We just need to make sure he doesn’t start to decline.”
“What are the chances of that?” I asked.
The doctor hedged. “Minimal.”
“You’ll call us if there’s any change, right?” Martin asked.
After making sure everyone had a number where they could reach us, we left the safe house, met the two members of the Cross Security team in the elevator, and had them drive us to our apartment. My car remained at the office, and Martin’s was at the hospital. If Steele tracked either of us, he wouldn’t know where we were. I just worried he’d search property records and find my new address. Even though that was a concern, I couldn’t stop smiling. And neither could Martin.
Twenty-six
“Do you want something to eat?” Martin stared into the fridge. “I could put a pot pie in the oven.”
“You bought frozen dinners?”
“Not exactly. Jen brought food for us, but I had Marcal bring it back to the apartment. He’s going to the store tomorrow. Do you want frozen dinners? I’ll add them to the list.”
“I don’t know.” Admittedly, takeout and frozen food had been my primary means of survival before we moved in together. “I haven’t had much of an appetite. I don’t think cardboard and plastic will improve that.”
“You should take it out of the box and remove the film before you eat it,” Martin teased.
“Good tip.”
Devious thoughts ran through his mind. “You always think so.”
I rolled my eyes at the double entendre. Seeing Mark awake and alive had cheered us up and knocked Martin’s mind back into the gutter. Though he’d claim his comment was entirely innocent and I had the dirty mind.
Not bothering to allow him to participate in the conversation, I went into the bathroom. “I jus
t want to shower and go to sleep. In the last three days, I’ve only slept eight hours.”
“Seven. It was seven.” He yawned. “If I had more energy, I’d join you.”
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Ignore me.” Truthfully, I was glad to have the time alone. I closed the door, peeled off my clothes, and removed the bandage from my side. The two inch graze was merely a scratch. The bullet barely touched me. Steele didn’t want to hit me. He just wanted to hold me at bay.
While I lathered up, I tried to figure out what Francisco’s next move would be. He wanted me to suffer, but he didn’t physically hurt me. He had plenty of opportunities these last few days, but he hadn’t taken advantage. He wanted to draw it out. Was it a taunt? What made him so certain I’d play his game?
After washing off the last of the suds, I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. I dried my hair, put on an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts, grabbed my nine millimeter off the bathroom counter, and padded into the living room. The lights were out, except for the small light over the kitchen sink. I took the cloned burner and my personal cell phone out of my bag and carried them into the bedroom.
Martin sprawled out on the right side of the bed, so I took the left, positioning my gun on the nightstand beside me. I routinely locked and bolted the front door, but I didn’t remember doing it. So I got up and checked. Then I checked the balcony. Even though we were twenty-one stories high and didn’t have a fire escape, now was the time for extra precautions.
“Everything okay?” Martin mumbled, facing away from me.
“I just wanted to make sure the doors were locked.”
“Did that,” he said. He started to roll over, stopping midway and letting out a hiss.
I scooted closer, so he wouldn’t have to move to feel me against him. Most of the time his shoulder didn’t bother him, but spending days on end in hospital chairs always took their toll. He flattened out on his stomach while I massaged his tight muscles and planted kisses against his left shoulder blade.
Within five minutes, he relaxed. His breathing grew slow and steady, and I stopped rubbing his shoulder. Resting my cheek against his back, I closed my eyes. Steele remained a threat, but I couldn’t think about that now. Mark woke up without having his cognitive functions impaired, and Lawson survived his ordeal at the club. Today was a win.
But the more I thought about it, the less certain I was. Mark was lucky. Steele wanted him dead, and he wanted it to be slow and painful. So I couldn’t chalk that up to anything except divine intervention.
Lawson was another story. Steele sought him out, baited his hook, and lured him to the club. But Lawson wasn’t a big fish. Lawson was just better bait, bait Steele used to lure me to the club. He wanted to see me. Touch me. Taunt me. It was foreplay for whatever came next. I just couldn’t figure out what that would be.
A noise roused me. Shuffled footsteps on carpet. I opened my eyes. Martin lay beside me, facing me. Behind him a figure lurked in the shadows, holding a bloody knife in his hand. I reached for my nine millimeter.
“I told you you’d pay,” Steele said.
I grabbed the gun off the nightstand, but Steele vanished. I looked at Martin. His skin was gray and cold. His throat cut open, dried blood caked around the wound.
I screamed, jolting myself out of the dream. Martin lay on the bed beside me. “Alex, what’s wrong?” he asked. He pulled me into his arms and held me against his chest. “It’s okay. I won’t let him hurt you.”
Settling against him, I tried to relax. But something didn’t feel right. Our bedroom didn’t look right. Somehow, I ended up on the other side of the bed. The furniture was different. Everything was different. This wasn’t right.
Again, I heard muffled footfalls. Steele stared at me from over Martin’s shoulder. My gun in his hand. He fired. The bullet went through Martin before ripping into me. The impact woke me, leaving a residual memory of the sudden onslaught and full of panic.
I jumped out of bed, flipped on the lights, and grabbed my gun, aiming as I swept the room. My heart banged against my sternum. Martin blinked awake, groggy and confused. In my haste to check him for injuries, I practically molested him. He was fine. It was a nightmare. Two horrible, connected nightmares that I couldn’t shake.
Throwing open the closet door, I searched inside. I checked the bathroom, every closet, and the entirety of our apartment from top to bottom. The balcony was next. When I pulled the curtain, I expected to find Steele standing on the other side. That expectation resulted in a scream when the glass reflected my own silhouette back at me.
“Sweetheart?” Martin ran to me.
I held up a trembling hand. “It’s okay.”
“The hell it is.” He waited for me to lower my gun before he pulled the curtain closed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nightmare, but it was so real. I thought I woke up. But he was still there.” I did my best to breathe through my nose, but it was too late. I was hyperventilating. I reached out and ran my hands over Martin’s bare torso. No gunshots or stab wounds. “You’re okay.” I dragged my fingertips up his chest and held on to his shoulders, letting my thumbs brush against his neck. “You’re okay.”
He realized I needed him to say it. “Yes, I’m okay.” He tried to embrace me, but I backed away. I hadn’t checked the front door yet. Crazed, I peered out the peephole. The brightly lit hallway appeared empty. Cautiously, I unlocked the door and inched it open, pressing my face into the tiny slit.
“Alexis, stop.” Martin waited for me to ease away from the door and make sure it was bolted before collapsing against it. “Slow your breathing, sweetheart. We’re okay. Everything’s okay. I won’t let him hurt you.” But he looked terrified.
“You said that last time,” I managed between gasps.
“What?”
I shook my head. “The first time I thought I woke up, you said that. Then Steele shot us both.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “You know that was a dream. This isn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
He looked at me with kind eyes, though his green irises appeared to be laughing at me. “Do you want me to pinch you?” Tentatively, he took the gun from my hand, put it on the coffee table, and hugged me, walking us backward until we reached the couch. “Slow, deep breaths. In and out.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve done this,” I said, still gasping.
“Shh, don’t talk.” He rubbed circles on my back. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He made the effort to calm his own breathing, so I could follow it like a guide.
As I relaxed, the exhaustion returned with a vengeance, fueled by the dissipation of the sudden adrenaline dump. Martin stretched out beneath me on the sofa, and before I knew it, I’d fallen into a dreamless sleep, free of night terrors and premonitions.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was morning. Martin kissed the top of my head. “Alex,” he said softly, “don’t you have to leave for the precinct soon?”
“Hmm?” I just wanted to settle in and sleep through the next few days.
“Last night in Cross’s office, you mentioned Moretti. Aren’t you supposed to meet him?” He kissed me again. “I know you’re tired. Do you want me to call and tell him you’ll be late?”
“No, I have to go. I have to find Steele. I have to stop him.” Sitting up made the room spin, so I waited for it to settle before I moved again. The clock on the wall said 7:23. I had time. “Are you going to work?” I asked, my head magnetized to Martin’s shoulder. If he moved too quickly, I’d crash into the couch cushions.
“I’m not sure. I want to drop in on Mark and see how he’s doing. Depending, I might put in a few hours at the office. I barely put in an appearance Monday, and I didn’t even bother yesterday. If I don’t show up soon, the place might explode.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry.” He carefully peeled his shoulder away, pull
ing a knee up onto the couch so he could sit sideways and face me. Surprisingly, I didn’t fall face first into his lap, not that he would have minded. “You haven’t had a nightmare like that in ages. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“It was stupid.” I blinked, suddenly more awake. “But I want you to do something for me.”
“Name it.”
“Take my backup and carry it with you at all times.”
“Alex, I don’t like guns.”
“Neither do I, but you know how to use it, and I just…I need you to do this.”
“I have Bruiser and Cross’s team, not to mention the security personnel at MT.”
“James, please.”
He ran his thumb across my cheek. “You’re that freaked out?”
I nodded.
“It must have been one hell of a nightmare. You normally don’t want me around sharp objects or projectile weapons.”
“I want you safe.”
“Same goes for you.” He watched me closely, analyzing every twitch and move I made. “The first time you dealt with Steele, you were so on edge. You were afraid, just like last night. I hate to see you like that. It scares me, Alex.”
“It was a rough assignment. Undercover always is.”
“That’s all it was?”
I didn’t like the early morning interrogation. “He tried to kill Mark. He,” I forced air into my lungs, “slaughtered Cooper. He could have killed Lawson last night if he wanted. And he was in the hospital. He could have killed you. Jen. Nick. Anyone. Everyone. He wants to kill Derek. It’s just a matter of time until he strikes again or we catch him. I don’t know which will happen first. I don’t want to think who else I might lose.”
“Hey,” Martin took my face in his hands, “that won’t happen.”
“You don’t know that. It’s part of his game. He’s messing with me. Toying. Playing. The reason he’s done all of this is because of me.” I grasped one of Martin’s hands. “Don’t tell me that isn’t true. I know it is. This is about me and the way I screwed him over. Now he wants to return the favor.”
“Did he ever force himself on you?” Martin asked.
