Find Me (The Donovan Family Book 3)

by Margaret Watson

  "Me, either. I have that problem a lot when I'm kissing you."

  Color crept back into her face. "Me, too."

  He needed to put some distance between them. "I'll let Franny out." He looked for the dog, who was lying on the floor watching them. When she heard 'out', she stood, stretched and wagged her tail.

  "I'll come with you."

  "Better if you stay here." Too many windows on the back porch. And besides, the whole point was to leave for a few minutes to get himself under control.

  Her eyes darkened when she met his eyes, and he looked away. "Yeah," she said, her voice hoarse. "You're right. Go ahead." He watched her struggle to lighten the tension in the room. "I'm not used to being inside all day." She tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Feeling cooped up."

  "If we're okay overnight, we'll get you outside tomorrow." Somehow.

  "No, Mac, it's all right." She reached to cup his cheek, then snatched her hand back. "Take Franny and go."

  They stared at each other for a long moment, unspoken words ricocheting between them. In his mother's darkened living room, the most unromantic setting on earth.

  He wanted to forget about Jacobsen and give in to the desire and need that pulsed between them. He wanted to spend the night making love to Lizzy, mapping her body, memorizing all the ways to make her moan, learning everywhere she liked to be touched. He wanted to sink into her and never surface.

  The flush climbing Lizzy's neck, the longing in her eyes, the heat pouring from her body, told him she wanted the same thing.

  He stepped back, reminding himself that he had a job to do. For a few minutes, he'd forgotten all about the job.

  That had never happened before. He'd always put his job first. He'd never had to think about his priorities.

  He was thinking about them now.

  Taking another step back, he said, "Right. I'll let Franny out."

  "Okay. Yes. Good. That's good." She gestured toward the stairs. "I'll, ah, go up and brush my teeth."

  He wanted to tell her to wait until he was back in the house. That he needed to be as close to her as possible. But he stopped himself just in time. He hadn't let all his brains leak out of his head. Lizzy didn't need to know how distracted he was.

  He never let anything distract him on the job. Lizzy had done so effortlessly.

  The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  "Okay." He cleared his throat. "Might want to get some linens together while you're up there," he said.

  Lizzy bent to pet Franny. "Go with Mac," she told the dog in a soft voice, laying her hand on Mac's arm. "Outside, Fran."

  The dog wagged her tail and followed as Mac made his way to the back door. The air was cold and crisp, the moon a sliver of gold in a clear, black sky. City lights hid all but the brightest stars, but he could see Orion's belt twinkling above him.

  Franny bounded toward the back of the yard, and he heard her scratching in the dead leaves from the crabapple tree. A couple minutes later, she was a streak of black and tan racing toward him, her tail wagging. Mac's chest lightened. If someone had been lurking around the house, Franny would have reacted.

  He took one last look around the back yard, into the alley, into the neighbor's back yards, before entering the house and locking the door. He heard Lizzy's crutches thumping on the hardwood floor above him. A pile of bed linens tumbled down the stairs, followed by the hollow sound of her crutches on the stairs.

  He picked up the blankets and pillows and watched her descent. "I raided the linen closet in the hall," she said.

  "Thanks," he said, helping her down the last step. "I'll go find the air mattresses."

  The basement was dark, with the closed-off, empty smell of a space rarely used. The old, battered ping pong table stood against one wall, the ancient billiard table in the middle of the room. When he switched on the light, he saw all the tiny holes the Donovan kids and their friends had torn into the felt while learning to play. Neither of his parents had ever yelled about wrecking the table. It was there for fun, they'd said.

  He found the air mattresses in a box labeled 'camping' on a shelf in the storage room. Tucking them under his arm, he checked the door that led to the back yard, making sure it was locked, then switched off the lights and headed upstairs.

  Lizzy sat on the floor, separating sheets, blankets and comforters, and Franny lay beside her. Lizzy stood and took one of the mattresses and began to blow it up manually. He took the other.

  His cheeks ached by the time it was inflated enough to sleep on, and Lizzy's had to hurt just as bad. Her face was red and she was panting when she put in the plug. But she grinned at him.

  "We had a couple of these we used to take to the beach. I hated blowing them up, but loved using them to float on the water. I had all kinds of daydreams on a float like this."

  He snagged her around the waist and pulled her close. "Some day, you'll have to tell me about them."

  Her smile faded. "Maybe."

  He knew what she was thinking – if they had a someday. He'd make sure they did. "I'll hold you to that."

  He kissed her once, then helped her arrange the blankets and pillows on the mattresses. She started to unbutton her blouse, but he covered her hands with his.

  "Nothing is going to happen, but why take any chances? Leave your clothes on, just in case." He glanced at her foot in the air cast. "You could take that off, though."

  Lizzy wiggled her foot in the brace, then grabbed her crutches and hobbled into the kitchen. When she returned, she held a long, thin knife in her hand.

  "Hey," he said, eyeing the weapon. "I thought we'd gotten past the point where you had to protect yourself from me with a knife."

  "Not for you, FBI man." She brushed her mouth over his. "If someone gets in here, I want to be prepared."

  His hands tightened around her waist. "If someone gets in here, you're not going to be anywhere near him." Jacobsen, or an accomplice, would get to Lizzy over his dead body.

  "I like to be prepared." She dropped onto the blanket-covered mattress, then loosened the air cast and slipped it off her foot. He knelt in front of her and examined her ankle. It was still twenty different shades of black and blue and green, but it was less swollen.

  "How does it feel?"

  She shrugged. "Hurts. But it's the least of my worries."

  Mac waited until she burrowed between the blankets, then slipped into his own makeshift bed. They lay apart for a long moment, then he rolled onto his side and moved closer to Lizzy.

  "The next time we sleep together, it's not going to be on a couple of old air mattresses on my mother's dining room floor," he whispered, drawing her into his arms. "And we'll be wearing a lot less clothing."

  "Mmmm." She curled into him and tucked one leg between his. "Looking forward to that."

  He was, too. "Go to sleep, Lizzy," he murmured. "I'll keep you safe."

  She turned enough to stare into his eyes. "Franny and I will keep you safe, too."

  As he slid into sleep, with Lizzy tucked against him, his last thought was that Lizzy's promise sounded good. Damn good. He planned to take her up on that.

  Chapter 23

  Lizzy jerked out of sleep, awakened by a piercing shriek that made her ears hurt. Franny's sharp barks made it worse. As she shot upright, she saw Mac through a haze, already on his feet and reaching for the gun on the floor.

  Then she inhaled thick, oily smoke and began to cough.

  "Lizzy. Get up." He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "We've got to get out of here."

  She covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve, but the smoke still burned her throat. "What if it's a trap?"

  "It is," Mac said, his voice grim. "But we can't stay in this smoke."

  Lizzy yanked on the air cast and fastened the straps. Then she slid the knife between her leg and the cotton lining. The steel blade was cold against her skin. Sharp. Reassuring.

  Mac had his cell phone in one hand. As he helped her stan
d, then handed her the crutches, he said, "Fire at 7331 South Arkansas." Without waiting for a response, he shoved the phone into his pocket. He cupped her elbow and guided her through the thickening smoke toward the door.

  "Franny," she called, peering through the smoke for her dog. Franny whined softly at her heels.

  Gun in his hand, Mac opened the front door and stepped in front of her. Smoke billowed out into the cold air, forming gray clouds against the indigo blue sky. The smoke obscured the street lights and hid the houses across the way.

  Mac's gun was steady as he scanned the street. Dark, silent cars lined the curb. Low shrubs and dead flowers cast shadows against the small plots of grass in front of the houses.

  When nothing moved, he walked slowly down the steps, keeping her close behind him. His head moved from side to side, scanning for movement. Lizzy tried to concentrate on using the crutches on the icy steps, but she couldn't help study the silent street. Her heart thundered in her chest, loud enough to drown out every other sound. Where was he hiding? Would the first hint be a bullet striking her? Or Mac?

  She slipped on an icy patch she hadn't noticed, and Mac's hand tightened on her elbow. He didn't turn around, though. He continued to scan the street, keeping her directly behind him. After she steadied herself, he moved down another step.

  When they reached the sidewalk, he stayed in front of her, watching. Franny pressed against her crutch, her nose in the air. Suddenly, a low growl rumbled from her throat.

  Mac swung to one side, reaching behind to grasp her elbow. Before he could touch her, a hand covered her mouth at the same time as an arm circled her throat. "If you want him to live, don't move," a voice whispered in her ear.

  Mac whirled around, gun raised, but the man behind her twisted so she was in front of him. A shield. She tried to jerk away, but cold steel pressed against her temple. She froze.

  "Jacobsen." Mac's voice was steady. "Let her go. It's over."

  Jacobsen dragged her backwards and she stumbled into him, her crutches flailing. She steadied herself on them, then kicked backward with her good leg. His knee bent the wrong way beneath her heel.

  He cried out, his arm tightening around her throat, and he pressed the gun harder against her skin. She dropped the crutches to claw at the arm cutting off her air. But her hands couldn't get a grip on the slippery nylon of his jacket.

  Then Mac was in front of them, his gun steady on Jacobsen. "Jacobsen." Mac's voice was harsher. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? You're done. Everyone knows. Put the gun down. Let her go. Let's talk about this."

  "Yeah, Donovan, I want to talk. But not as long as that gun's pointed at me." He tightened his arm around Lizzy's neck.

  She threw her shoulders back and forth, trying to dislodge his forearm. It slowly tightened, and she gagged as she clawed at his arm. Gray spots danced in front of her eyes. She felt herself slipping into darkness.

  "You think I'd let you strangle her in front of me, Derek?" She barely heard Mac's voice over the roaring in her ears. "Let her go, or I'll put a bullet in your head."

  The pressure on her throat eased and she sagged against Jacobsen, sucking in a sobbing breath.

  "So, Derek. Stalemate. You have Lizzy. I have a gun at your head. You know I'm not going to miss. Why don't you tell me what you want?"

  She felt Jacobsen exhale in a rush. "Witness protection," he said. "I have information. I'll tell you everything I know. I'll testify. But I need you to hide me from them."

  "Who's 'them'?"

  "The tongs. If I don't kill her, those Asian bastards will gut me. They don't leave witnesses. You get me into witness protection, I'll let her go. Surrender."

  "Witness protection for a guy who killed a fellow agent? Not sure that's going to happen. But we can try. Put your gun down and surrender."

  "You first, Donovan."

  Mac shook his head. "You know how the game is played, Derek. You want protection. I've got the power. I keep the gun."

  "I've got the girl. The witness."

  "What are you going to do? Kill her in cold blood? Like you killed Kelly? You know I'll kill you first."

  "I've got nothing to lose."

  "You're not going to kill her, Derek. Because you know you'll die, too." Mac still had his gun pointed at Jacobsen's head. His gaze never left the other man's, and Mac's hand was steady as a rock.

  "If you weren't such a tight ass, you'd put the gun down and negotiate with me."

  "You know I'm not that stupid." Mac's voice was steady. Calm. As solid as his grip on his gun.

  Jacobsen sighed behind her. "You're a cold-blooded bastard. Always have been. Anything for the job, right? You'll watch the woman die if it gets you what you need."

  "She's not going to die. You don't have to die, either."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy saw Franny, creeping toward her and Jacobsen. The hair on the dog's neck stood straight up, and her teeth were bared in a silent growl.

  Lizzy gave her the hand signal for stop. Wait. Ready. The dog froze, never taking her unblinking gaze off Jacobsen.

  She didn't think Jacobsen had noticed Franny, whose dark coat blended in with the shadows. All that was visible were Franny's white legs and the white circles around her eyes.

  Lizzy saw Mac's knuckles whiten. He'd tightened his grip on the gun.

  "Two options, Derek. You can die. Or you can let her go, put down your gun, and we'll talk about witness protection."

  The two men stood there, Mac's gun on Jacobsen, Jacobsen's gun at her head. Fear, anger and resolve quivered in the air between them. Lizzy stilled. Time stretched out. Slowed. Mac didn't look at her. He was focused solely on Jacobsen.

  "You're still the fucking G-Man, aren't you, Donovan?" Jacobsen's body seemed to deflate behind her. "Mr. Responsible. Dudley Do-right. You'll take your chances with me as long as you get your shot."

  "Exactly." Mac shifted to the side, making himself a smaller target. "Let her go, Jacobsen."

  Lizzy felt the man behind her draw in a ragged breath. Then he sighed, as if he was tired. His gun was still pressed to Lizzy's temple, but his arm was beginning to tremble.

  "I'll tell you what, Donovan. We both put our guns down at the same time. That's my best offer."

  Jacobsen had no intention of dropping his gun. He had nothing to lose. "No, Mac!" Lizzy screamed. "Don't do it. Please. Don't put down your gun."

  Mac turned his gaze onto Lizzy. His eyes were steady. Reassuring. As if he had a plan. "All right, Jacobsen." He bent slowly, still holding the gun and watched Jacobsen lean over awkwardly, his arm still around Lizzy's neck.

  Jacobsen tensed behind her. He bent over, but she felt his hand tighten on the gun. As he drew Lizzy down with him, she fumbled at her cast.

  The man holding her hostage didn't have all the power. While Jacobsen hesitated, his hand still curled around the gun, she pulled the knife out of her boot. Jacobsen raised his gun and aimed it at Mac. Lizzy drove the knife backward.

  The sensation of the knife slicing into Jacobsen's flesh made Lizzy gag. He staggered back, releasing her. She dropped to the sidewalk, scraping her hands on the rough cement, and saw Mac bringing up his gun.

  Jacobsen cursed behind her, and out of the corner of her eye, Lizzy saw him raise his arm. His gun wobbled, but he managed to point it at Mac. Lizzy gave Franny the hand signal to attack at the same time she launched herself toward the man behind her.

  She and Franny reached him just as his gun went off. Heat flashed past Lizzy's cheek, and the loud blast felt like a punch to her ears. Shoving her crutches out of the way, she saw that Franny already had Jacobsen on the ground. Her mouth was on his throat, but he ignored the dog and pointed his gun at Lizzy. Franny growled and tightened her grip on his throat. Jacobsen turned the gun toward Franny.

  With a cry, Lizzy leaped toward them. She snatched up a crutch and swung it at Jacobsen's arm. There was a loud crack, and the gun flew into the darkness around the bushes.

  "Jesus!" Jacobsen screa
med. "You broke my arm."

  "Hold, Franny!" Lizzy cried. "Hold!"

  The dog put her mouth on Jacobsen's throat, and he screamed again. "Get her off me."

  Franny growled. He lifted his other hand from his side, dark and wet with blood. He reached for Franny, blood running down his arm, and Lizzy stumbled to her feet.

  "Hold very still, Jacobsen," Lizzy said. "Right now, she's just holding. Unless you lie there like a stone, I'll tell her to attack. She's a very well-trained dog."

  Jacobsen stilled and his hand dropped to the ground. His gaze darted from side to side.

  "If you're looking for your gun, it's gone." As she stared down at him, she said, "Mac? You have any handcuffs?"

  "Not with me, sweetheart."

  She turned to look for him. He sat on the sidewalk, struggling to stand. Blood poured in a steady stream down his left arm.

  "Mac!" She dashed over to him, taking his arm with hands that shook. You're shot!"

  "Flesh wound," he muttered, staggering to his feet. "I'll be fine." He glanced down the street. "Where's the cavalry? The firefighters should be here by now."

  "Sit down," she ordered, steering him toward the steps. There was so much blood. She couldn't see the wound, but she had to stop the bleeding. She tore a strip off the bottom of her shirt and tied it around his arm. The bleeding slowed, but it didn't stop.

  Smoke still poured out of the house, but it looked as if it was slowing. Mac looked around her at Jacobsen, rigid on the ground. "How long will Franny do that to him?" he asked.

  "Until I tell her to stop."

  "Need to pat him down," Mac said.

  She spotted flashing lights at the end of the block. "The cavalry is here. They can take care of it."

  Two fire engines and a police car pulled up in front of the house. Mac staggered to his feet.

  The first firefighters began running toward the house, and Mac stopped them. "Pretty sure it's just a smoke bomb." He gestured to Jacobsen, bleeding onto the sidewalk. "He's wanted for the murder of an FBI agent."

  The lead firefighter nodded. "Thanks." Then he trotted up the front steps into the house, followed by two more firefighters carrying a hose.