by Desiree Holt
She opened the door and slid out into the night. As she did so, the lights went out. Good. No way was she waiting for anything or anyone. She made her way quickly to the main building, the cell phone in her pocket set on Vibrate. She had just reached the back door of the building when she felt it shake against her thigh. She pressed Answer.
“This is Marissa. Status, please.”
“On the ground. Where the hell’s Justin?”
She had to swallow twice to get the words out.
“At the restaurant. Maes threatened to shoot someone every minute until he showed his face.”
“Does he have any way to connect the two of you?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know. Mike, you have to get the team moving. I don’t know how much longer Justin has before Maes gets tired of him and just has one of his men kill him.”
“On our way. Four minutes until we are in position. No more. Where are you?”
“At the rear of the main building.”
“What the fuck, Marissa? I’m damn sure Justin told you to stay put until we landed.”
“Yes, well, right now he’s in no position to give me orders. Going dark right now.”
She knew Mike and his team would be here in scant minutes. These Vigilance teams didn’t mess around. All former military, their training was what made them so good at their jobs. There were just seconds for her to make her move. But what if—
She shook her head. Don’t go there. Focus. Just focus.
She slipped in through the back door, made her way through the kitchen and up to the swinging doors into the restaurant. She had the H&K ready in her hand, opting for its greater power than the Glock’s. When she peeked through the tiny space between the doors, her heart nearly stopped. Directly across from her, Justin was on his knees in front of Stefan Maes. Even as she watched, one of the black-clothed thugs, this one bigger and taller than the others, drew back his fist and punched Justin in the face. Justin fell sideways, and when the piece of garbage hauled him back to his knees again, Marissa got a sideways glimpse of his face and almost passed out. Even worse was the puddle of blood beside him. Had they shot him?
She tried to count down in her head how long since she’d spoken to Mike. They had to be ready now, right? When she realized the man who’d punched Justin had a bloody, long-bladed knife in his other hand, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Now she knew where the blood had come from. He’d already stabbed Justin once and was getting ready to do it again. She couldn’t let that happen. Kicking open the swinging doors, she leveled her gun at the thug and fired off two shots, hitting him in the arm and the hand holding the knife. He dropped the instrument, swearing in a foreign language, which, knowing their background, she figured was Croatian.
Marissa shifted so her back was against the wall, but she still had a good view of everything.
Maes stared at her. “There you are, you goddamn fucking bitch. I knew you were here as soon as I realized this was the man in the picture with you.”
She frowned. Picture? What picture?
As if he’d heard her thoughts, Maes held up the phone he still had in his hand.
“This picture. How the fuck did you know we were on to you? Did someone warn you, so you could do that disappearing act almost before that photo reached me?”
Marissa wet her lips.
Never let them see you sweat.
That had been her motto since she entered business school, and it had always stood her in good stead.
“What?” Maes raised his voice again. “Nothing to say? It’s your face Raca should be rearranging. You ruined everything.”
“Apparently not enough.” She swept her gun back and forth, trying to keep everyone on the goon squad in sight.
Just as she was trying to figure out who to shoot next, the sound of breaking glass filled the air and the Vigilance team smashed into the restaurant. She heard the rapid chatter of assault weapons and the crack of handguns. When she looked she saw the Vigilance agents spreading out everywhere in the restaurant, pushing people to the floor as they downed one tango after another. Women were screaming, men shouting, more gunfire.
Marissa was focusing on Maes and saw one of the Vigilance agents grab him. Maes managed to pull away from the man trying to flex cuff him. He yanked a small handgun from his pocket and aimed it at Justin. Marissa reacted at once. She fired two shots again, in rapid succession, hitting Maes’s hand and arm.
“You fucking bitch,” he yelled again. “You think you’re rid of me now? Forget it. I’ll get out of this like I do everything else. Then I’m going to hunt you down and dismember you one limb at a time.”
He was still screaming epithets at her, cradling the arm and hand against his body, when she felt arms around her and a hand closing over her gun.
“It’s me, Tiger,” a familiar voice murmured in her ear. “Bad guys are all taken care of. You can stand down.”
She stared at Maes, now being wrestled from the room by one of the largest Vigilance agents she’d ever seen.
“Pay no attention to him,” Mike Perez said. “This is the last daylight he’ll see for a long time. Maybe forever. He’s got a lot of crimes to answer for and Interpol is anxious to get their hands on him.”
She tried to pull away. “I have to get to Justin. He’s been stabbed and there’s blood all around him.”
“One of my guys is taking care of him as we speak. Look over there. See? Come on.”
She handed him the H&K and hurried over to where Justin was now stretched out on the floor. When she got a look at his face she had to swallow back the nausea. Taking a deep breath, she knelt on the side opposite from the man treating him.
“Justin? I’m right here.” She put her mouth close to his ear, and would have reached for one of his hands except the guy working on him nudged her arm away.
“Justin?” Mike asked. “Can you hear me, buddy?” He looked at the man working on Justin’s knife wound. “Sitrep, please.”
“It’s not good. That blade is more than twelve inches and he shoved it in sideways. It got a lot of the blood vessels and I have no idea how many organs are compromised. Right now, I need to stop the bleeding, or at least slow it until we can get him to a level one trauma center.”
“What can I do? Please let me do something.”
“Here.” He handed her some gel packs. “Keep these on his face while I work on the wound. We’ll pack them against him when we get him in the chopper.”
She was only vaguely aware of what was going on in the restaurant. The Morgansterns were moving from table to table, soothing their guests, and checking everyone’s needs. Little by little they were being escorted out of the restaurant. Marissa was sure none of them would sleep easily tonight. Nor would they forget what had happened here.
She studied Justin’s face. “He’s not conscious, is he?” Statement, not question.
“No, but in a way, it’s a blessing. We don’t have to depress his vitals with pain meds.” He wrapped another row of wide tape across Justin’s chest and stood up. “Okay, we’re gonna boogie. Stand back, please.”
“We’re going to transport him to the chopper right now,” Mike told her. “Come on. They need to get him on the litter.”
“I’m not leaving him,” she insisted.
The other agent frowned. “I don’t—”
“It’s okay.” Mike helped her to her feet. “She can go with him in the chopper. Marissa, I sent one of the guys back to the helo to warm it up. They can load the stretcher right into it. Just let us get him set. The owners have a couple of trucks they keep on the island for moving big items around. They had someone bring it around for us. Come on.”
Yeah, let’s get to it,” the other man said. “We need to leave five minutes ago.”
She stepped to the side only long enough for two men to move Justin t
o the makeshift stretcher. Then she hurried out to the truck with them. One man climbed in the back next to the stretcher and someone else helped Marissa up into the cab where another agent was behind the wheel.
“Hold him steady,” she called to the man in back.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll take good care of him.”
She was a nervous wreck until they got to the place where a large helicopter sat, lights on, waiting, the rotors already idling. As soon as they had the litter strapped down, an agent beside it, tucking gel packs around Justin’s badly swollen face, Mike helped Marissa in.
“You can sit up front in the copilot seat,” he told her.
She shook her head. “I’m riding with Justin.”
“Joe’s got it. Justin’s in good hands.”
She shook her head again. “Help me into the cabin.”
“Mike,” the man beside Justin began. “I’m not sure…”
“It’s all good,” Mike told him. “Just get going.”
“Got it.”
“You’re not coming with us?” she asked him.
Mike shook his head. “We have a lot of cleanup to do. And, we’ll help the Morgansterns take care of the guests here. Two people are wounded. There’s a medic on one of the choppers coming from Gould. Plus, Avery said Gould wants us to help his guys debrief the men who were the targets of all this. They should be getting here…” He looked at his watch. “Any minute now. So get going.”
“Will he—” She stopped and wet her kips. “Will he make it?”
“Yes. At least I’m pretty sure. He’s a tough guy, Marissa. My money’s on him.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay. You’re good for liftoff. Radio with an arrival time when you’re on your way back,” he told the pilot.
“Got it.”
He slid the cabin door closed and banged on it to let the pilot know they were all set. Seconds later they lifted off.
Marissa was sitting cross-legged beside the stretcher, holding Justin’s hand when the agent monitoring him cleared his throat.
“Uh, Marissa? You might want to ask the hospital if they’ve got some scrubs you can change into when we get there.”
“What?” She frowned.
He gestured at her clothing. “It’s a little, um…”
She looked and was startled to see big splotches of blood on her blouse and slacks. God. So much blood. Again, nausea threatened but she swallowed it back. She had to stay focused. For Justin.
The trip seemed interminable. Joe, the agent in the cabin with them, kept checking Justin’s pulse and making sure the field dressing was okay. About twenty minutes into the flight he changed it from the kit beside him. Marissa felt ill when she saw how soaked it was with blood.
“He’s okay,” Joe tried to assure her.
“But so much blood can’t be good,” she whispered.
“He’s not hemorrhaging. It looks worse than it is.”
If only she could make the helo fly faster. With every passing moment, Justin’s situation became more critical. She crouched on the floor next to him the entire time, holding his hand and praying. She heard the pilot on his radio every so often. About the time she was sure she would explode if they didn’t get to a doctor, the pilot hollered back that they were coming in for a landing.
She gripped Justin’s hand even harder, and she noticed Joe was paying careful attention to the stability of the stretcher until the touchdown. Then the pilot slid open the cabin door and gently but firmly nudged her away from Justin. Strangers’ hands helped her out and eased her to the side as they lifted him out of the helo. She looked around and saw men and women in scrubs waiting with a wheeled stretcher. In what seemed like seconds they had him settled and were rushing him through the open rooftop door.
She ran after them, heart beating wildly.
“Wait! Where are you taking him?”
“Surgery,” someone called back to her. “Waiting room on the third floor.”
“Marissa?” Joe touched her arm. “Go on. Here’s Avery.”
She looked, and sure enough, there was Avery hurrying through the door. The first thing she did was wrap her arms around Marissa. Then she waved at Joe, who climbed back in the helo. Seconds later, it lifted off.
“Thank you for being here,” Marissa told her as Avery guided her into the building.
“Well, of course. Where else would I be, but here with two of my favorite people?”
Marissa blew out a breath. “You have no idea how hard it was for me when he decided to go up to the restaurant alone.”
Avery took her hand. “From what Mike told me, I don’t think he had a choice. Justin would never have been able to live with himself if he let Maes shoot all those people.”
“I know. I keep telling myself that. Then I keep asking what unbelievable fucked-up fate had Maes coming to this place he’d never been to before when I was there hiding from him.”
Avery snorted. “If you ever find an answer to that, let me know. We have situations like that all the time. It’s one of the reasons Vigilance is always so busy.” Then she smiled at Marissa. “I did get word, though, that you managed a few well-placed shots. Good girl.”
“I’d have been there sooner, but I had to wait for Mike and the team.”
“As well you should. No hotshots in this rodeo. You did good, both of you. And he’s going to be just fine. Now come on. Let’s get to the third floor. And you need to change your clothes.”
That was the last thing on her mind at the moment. All she could think of was the image of Justin lying on the floor bleeding out, his face battered and swollen, his pulse so weak.
“Avery, how soon do you think we’ll know anything?”
“That’s hard to say. But we’ve got one of the finest surgeons working on him. And he made it from Princessa to here so that’s good.”
Marissa looked around. “Where exactly is here?”
“Memorial Hospital in Sarasota. They have a level one trauma center and I wanted the absolute best care we could get.” She lifted the little tote bag she’d been carrying. “Meanwhile, you might want to change out of those clothes and give them to me to burn.”
Marissa let out a sigh. “I guess. But I don’t want to miss the doctor.”
“I promise you, there’s plenty of time for you to clean up and change. There’s a ladies’ room right across the hall. Do you need me to come with you?”
“No. Thanks.” She managed a tiny smile. “I think I can do this by myself.”
“Okay.” Avery handed her the tote. “But holler if you need me.”
In the restroom Marissa took a good look at herself in the mirror and wanted to throw up. Her makeup was smeared and underneath everything she was paler than a hospital sheet. She had left without her purse. That had been the last thing on her mind at the time.
Well, she’d just have to do the best she could. She yanked off her ruined clothes, stuffed them in the trash, washed her face and hands, and pulled on the jeans and T-shirt Avery had brought. What she really wanted was a long, hot shower, but that would have to wait until she knew what Justin’s condition was.
“Much better,” Avery told her when she walked back into the waiting room. “At least you won’t frighten the nurses anymore.”
She dropped into the chair beside Avery. “You know it’s my fault he nearly died.”
Avery stared at her. “Are you crazy? Where did you get that insane idea?”
“Facts are facts. He was at Princessa Key because of me. And he was protecting me when he went to the ballroom and nearly got himself killed.”
Avery sighed. “Marissa, that’s his job. He took the same risks when he was a SEAL. Even if you weren’t there, Justin would be protecting everyone else.”
“But if Maes wasn’t chasing me we wouldn’t have been—”
>
“Enough.” Avery turned in her chair. “Marissa, look at me. Justin takes those kinds of risks every day. The same situation could have happened on any assignment. So, I don’t want to hear any more about feeling responsible for any of this. The only one responsible is Stefan Maes.”
“This might help settle your nerves.”
Someone held out a go-cup of coffee. She looked up and recognized the man she’d met at lunch what seemed a lifetime ago.
“Blake. Right?”
He nodded. “My wife and I happened to be in Avery’s office when Justin called for reinforcements. My wife has worked on assignments with him a few times and knows him well. She wanted to come here to see what his condition was and maybe give you a little moral support.” He nudged the cup at her. “Here. It beats anything the hospital provides.”
Marissa wrapped her fingers around it, absorbing the heat and wondering if she’d ever feel warm again. But when she sipped the liquid, she blessed the heat spreading through her.
When she looked up to thank Blake she realized his wife was with him.
“Thank you both for coming. Sam, right?”
Sam Quenel Morgan smiled. “Yes. I’m surprised you can remember anything in this situation.” She sat down beside Marissa and took her hand. “I heard you say you feel responsible. Trust me, this one is not on you. From what I understand, it was the coincidence of the century that the men he was after picked this weekend to be in the same place where Vigilance tucked you away. Probably wouldn’t happen again in a million years.”
“You can’t control everything,” Avery reminded her. “Would you feel better if you were still hiding and he’d been shot breaching the room?”
“Yes. No.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Right. So what you have to concentrate on right now is sending positive healing thoughts to Justin so he’ll recover fast. Now drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Marissa had no idea how long they sat there. Blake Morgan and his wife spoke in low tones, but she was too numb to listen. All she could do was pray. And hope.
It felt as if they’d been sitting there for a week when a woman in scrubs came to the waiting room door.
