Nothing.
Her other hand refused to react to her mental commands. Something obstructed it. She dipped her head to look at her hands. When her pupils adjusted to the light, she moaned. Something strapped her wrists down. She peered at the brown objects, racking her brain for their name.
Leather straps.
Simple leather straps. They reminded her of straps used in a clinical psych ward at a hospital. Wait. Clinical psych ward? Oh, no. She forced her eyes wide and she panned them around the room. A workbench, a pegboard for hanging tools, and the bookcase with a busted out back. The bookcase she and Brandon moved to discover the secret passage underneath the Burrows residence. The wooden door leading to the tunnel was shut.
The basement.
The second basement.
Panic set in. Maggie struggled to move her legs. Leather straps held fast to her legs right above her ankles. She couldn’t escape without assistance. She shifted her weight and heard the squeak of leather underneath her. She knew the color of the chair she sat in. Hunter green.
Maggie’s eyes burned with tears she desperately blinked back. She looked at the wooden door again. Was Brandon on the other side?
Brandon.
She remembered now. Right after they exited the bunker, a shot rang out and Brandon’s body lay sprawled on the earth. He didn’t respond when she screamed his name. Was he still alive?
The pain in her shoulder. She remembered how it spread across her collarbone to her upper arm, like a hot poker plunged right through her back and out the front of her chest. Maggie turned her stiff neck to look down at her left shoulder. Her jacket had been removed. Her torn shirt exposed skin and a white gauze with a bright red spot in the center. Burrows shot her. He shot Brandon, and then he shot her.
Had he been there all along? Watching the two of them at the old bunker like he had at the house? It was the only conclusion that made sense. How did he know they were coming? That tree branch snap… The sound she heard before both she and Brandon raced up the hilly woods. Burrows led them there on purpose. He was in the woods the whole time.
No. It can’t be that simple. Yes, Burrows possessed above-average intelligence, and yes, he did elude law enforcement authorities for a decade, but hiding out in the woods for the past couple of days? Woods the US Marshals thoroughly searched? There had to be another explanation. How long did Burrows have to prepare for this? Happy Gilbert. Happy must have provided Burrows with the supplies he needed for this scheme.
Why didn’t he kill her along with Brandon? “Brandon,” she whispered over the gag. Tears overflowed onto her cheeks. He couldn’t be dead. That gunshot would have rung out for a good mile, which meant the marshals at the house would’ve heard it and come running. Depending on how long she’d been unconscious, they might have already treated Brandon and would be on their way back to rescue her.
“Aw, is that your partner? Brandon? US Marshal Brandon Worth?”
Maggie froze. She recognized that voice. She heard it many times in person and on recordings. She would know it anywhere; hear it over a crowd of people. Something moved in the darkness to her right. Startled, she jumped, but her restraints held fast. Pain shot through her shoulder. She refused to show any sign of weakness. She could suffer bruises to her wrists and feet.
Slowly the shadow in the darkness gave way to the light.
John Michael Burrows.
Many of his features still resembled the sad little boy in the dated photo. The man she once put away who haunted her dreams. He looked remarkably clean for someone who had been on the run, living in the woods for the past several days. Day-old stubble showed, and the cropped haircut he had for the trial had begun to grow out. His dark eyes danced in the dimly lit basement, his smile full of triumph and amusement.
“He’s very good, that Marshal Worth. He nearly had me a couple of times. Never seemed to want to shy away from these woods, as if he knew I would be here.” Burrows leaned in slightly. His eyes searched hers. “Or did you tell him I would? I imagine so. You’re the profiler, after all.” Burrows leaned away. “He most likely would’ve continued on into the Blue Ridge Mountains if you hadn’t convinced him there was nowhere on earth I’d rather be than here.” The grin returned. “There’s no place like home, is there?”
“If he’s dead…” Maggie worked the words around her mouth restraint. Her blood pounded out of both fear and anger. Her nightmare was now a reality. The one man whose brutality had struck a dart of terror into her heart years ago now held her life in his hands. And the first man — that her family was counting on — in a long time to capture and hold her interest lay in the woods and was likely bleeding out.
Burrows grabbed the thick cloth and pulled it from her mouth. “There now, better?” He circled her chair. “If he’s dead? There’s no if, darling. He’s dead. Granted, I didn’t have as clear of a shot with you in the way, and it’s not like I’ve had a lot of target practice while in jail. You see,” he fingered her hair, “I didn’t want to kill you. But I had to get you away from him. Do you realize how often the two of you were together?” Burrows chuckled softly, yet his eyes held no humor. He leaned in, his hawk-like nose in her hair. “You made me so jealous.” He breathed into her ear.
He stood in front of her now, hands clasped behind his back. “I mean, at the fair, I was sure I had your attention. You bolted so fast from the marshal it touched me. Right here.” He pointed a boney finger to his heart. “I have to say, Margaret, my heart stirred more then than at any time when I was in the company of those other women.” His eyes grew wide with wicked delight. “And I spent all that time on blondes when I should’ve been looking at brunettes.” His nail gently scraped down the length of her cheek. “With lovely chocolate skin, so warm and smooth you can almost taste it.” He licked the side of her face, from her jaw to her hairline. “Mmm, so rich.”
Maggie shuddered at the touch of his rough tongue, but she kept her mouth closed. The longer Burrows talked, the longer she survived. She needed to give the marshals time to find Brandon. He would lead them here.
Burrows laughed deeply. “To see the looks on your faces when you opened that bunker. They were here all the time. Just waiting for someone with enough brains to find them.” He put a heavy boot on her footrest, and leaned one elbow on a knee. “You know, they could’ve rotted there for decades? Hah! Decades. I know one sure did.” He drew a lone finger around the curve of her jaw. She jerked away from his touch.
His eyes darkened. A thin upper lip twitched. “Then I escaped. Lucky for me, some imbecile wanted out badly. I would probably be sitting at the supermax, awaiting my death sentence, thanks to you.”
His hands grasped her forearms and crushed them. He leaned in closer, his face millimeters from her own. His rank breath stung Maggie’s nostrils as he breathed heavily on her.
“You ruined my life,” he seethed. “I had a perfectly good one until you came along with your bouncy brown hair, and your big, curious brown eyes.”
His own eyes grew lustful. He licked his lips, as his gaze traveled down the length of her. “Creamy chocolate.” His tongue twitched and slithered out, and stretched, anxious to touch her lips. Maggie whimpered and inclined her head back. Burrows put a hand behind her head and snapped it back to face him.
“You know, you really are a beautiful woman. It’s a shame it took me so long to build an attraction to your kind. Think of the possibilities I missed. I might have doubled, or even tripled my trophies.”
“Let me go.”
A look of shock registered on his face. He put one hand over his heart. “Did you not get my letters?”
Letters? Letters…
“I left you three notes.” He ticked off his fingers. “One on the bus, one near the car, and the other, well, I didn’t expect to leave that one but your fight with the marshal was just too juicy. You did get the third one, right?” His eyes grew reflective. “You know how much trouble I went through to set that car on fire? I had to go to a gas s
tation to get some fuel in the middle of the night. Thank goodness I didn’t have to worry about the car. But what are friends for?”
“Happy…”
“Yes, Happy Gilbert. Ole Gilly, I like to call him. Always been a good friend. I’ll buy him a brand new car. Luxury.”
Maggie nearly choked on the sincerity she heard in his voice. How much did Happy know about his “friend”? Maggie watched as Burrows fingered the small paring knife on the nearby wooden table.
“Gilly…Gilly and my mother were really close. Too close if you ask me.” A shadow crossed over his face. “But he was always very useful for different things. Taught me how to hunt, shoot, catch prey.” He laughed again and drew a ragged nail over her collarbone, irritating the sensitive skin. “Dear, sweet Gilly. I knew I could count on him. He took care of my shop real well. Oh, the shop.” His eyes gleamed. “You visited, right? Did you see me?”
His bright eyes and hopeful grin left a sick feeling in the pit of Maggie’s stomach. She nodded. “The little boy in the photo.”
“Yes, in the photo album. Gilly said you and Marshal Worth came here so I figured you showed him the basement. Then I remembered my photo album.” He walked over to the bookcase.
Brandon, hurry. The longer she kept Burrows away from the knife… “Why? Why are you doing this?”
Burrows pivoted back toward her. He let out a short laugh. “Haven’t you guessed? Special Agent, FBI profiler, you aren’t that bright, are you? And you were such a worthy opponent last time. One I hadn’t counted on, but I figured this time would be different.” He came very close. His hot, stale breath suffocated her. “This was all for you,” he whispered.
Maggie swallowed, afraid to open her mouth, to breath in his air. She’d been driving her crazy the last few days, anxious that her reputation would be ruined if she didn’t capture this man, and all the while, he was contributing to the madness.
“The notes, the fair, the bodies…” His arm gestured behind him in the direction of the tunnel. “Do you think I’ve left that bunker open all these years for some Joe Hunter to come along and find it? Oh, no. I unlocked it just for you. When I knew you would be here. I wanted you to see your final resting place. The very spot where you’d last see your lover, the famous Marshal Brandon Worth, who couldn’t track his way out of a paper bag.”
His lips came so close to hers, Maggie nearly gagged. She tilted her head back as far as she could, but he only laughed and slowly raised himself over her to align his face with hers. “It took you a little too long to wake up, so I will have to hurry this along.”
“You’re going to get caught. The marshals are swarming this place.”
Burrows shrugged. “As long as I have you, nothing else in this world matters.”
A small thump sounded above them. He put a finger to his lips. His eyes ordered her into silence. Burrows’s gaze scanned the ceiling. He silently slipped over to the table…and his blade. He made his way to the hanging steps that led to the first-level basement.
“Hopefully that other marshal outside hasn’t grown a brain and entered the house. I really only came back here to kill you, sweet Margaret. After which, I can die a happy…fulfilled man.”
Maggie snapped her head away at the feel of his hand in her hair. He hurried up the steps.
When she heard the door close, the door to the tunnel opened. Maggie stifled a gasp. Brandon.
He surged toward her and planted his lips firmly on hers. “Are you alright?”
She nodded. He looked pale, and his body shook.
The gunshot wound.
Her look went to his shoulder. His ripped shirt revealed gauze soaked with blood.
“He’s upstairs. He won’t be gone long.”
Brandon whipped out a switchblade and deftly cut the straps that imprisoned her. After slicing the strap from around her ankles, he paused.
“What?”
He put a finger over his mouth. They both looked up. Footsteps.
Brandon carefully laid the straps over her arms and placed a quick kiss on her lips. “Keep him looking at you.” He disappeared into the darkness.
Maggie blinked back tears again. The man she loved was alive and nearby somewhere in the darkness. He’d lost a lot of blood, and Burrows could easily have the upper hand if their confrontation turned physical. Brandon would need her help to restrain him.
Burrows hurried down the stairs. “Something’s up. I think they know you’re here, so I’m sorry to rush this. Goodbye.” He drew back the paring knife, but Maggie’s gaze was drawn to the figure behind him. Burrows’s eyes bulged. The blade flew out of his hand.
Maggie ducked. The knife sliced through her hair, before it clanged on the ground somewhere in the shadows behind her. Burrows lost his footing and fell onto his side.
Maggie flung off the sliced restraint straps and climbed down from the chair. The pain in her shoulder caused her to cry out. Burrows wrestled for dominance underneath Brandon while Maggie searched desperately for something to use as a weapon. Brandon suddenly yelled in pain and clutched his wound. Burrows rolled out from underneath him. Maggie snatched a large, thick book off the bookcase.
Burrows got up to one knee. Maggie gritted her teeth against the ache in her shoulder, and when Burrows raised his head, she swung. Burrows moaned and toppled over. Maggie blinked and widened her eyes. She put a hand to her head. The room spun and she steadied her back against the bookshelf. The book fell out of her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and when they opened, she saw Burrows had a grip on the cross around Brandon’s neck. Burrows attempted to choke him, but Brandon jerked back. The chain snapped free. Brandon landed a punch to Burrows’s head. Burrows bellied out onto the ground.
Brandon snatched a pair of handcuffs from behind his back and threw his body on top of Burrows, who continued to struggle. Over Brandon’s groans, Maggie heard the first click of the cuff, followed by the second. Brandon rolled off Burrows; his hand grasped his shoulder. Agents poured in from the tunnel and at the same time, the door on the ceiling opened and US Marshals bounded down the steps.
Maggie forced her legs to move toward Brandon. She knelt beside him, and sucked in a breath. The ashen color of his face and the blood that seeped through his fingers shot fear through her heart. “Brandon.”
He answered her cry with a low moan.
“Maggie? Brandon?” She turned her head toward the tunnel. Bernie stepped into the basement. “Get a paramedic down here immediately.” His voice roared the order.
“Bernie! Brandon is losing a lot of blood.” Maggie reached for her jacket on the floor behind the chair. She pressed it into his wound, and then touched her own. She passed her fingers in front of her eyes and saw the silky sheen of blood.
Two arms lifted her up and away from Brandon as paramedics worked on him. “Can you make it up the stairs?” Bernie asked. Maggie squinted her eyes shut; her vision became increasingly blurred.
Chapter Fifteen
Maggie’s eyes dragged open and the smile on Brandon’s full lips filled her hazy vision.
“Good morning, beautiful.” His eyes were bright, the color of his skin fully returned. His left arm rested in a sling, the only testament to the ordeal he went through to capture Burrows.
Maggie shivered beneath the crisp hospital covers and smiled. His voice never ceased to give her goose bumps. “Good morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Mmm, much better. Nothing is hurting, or did you mess with my drip?”
Brandon laughed. “Not the drip, but I hear there’s power in prayer.” He leaned in and planted a warm kiss on her forehead. “I wanted my girl to be pain-free today.” He smoothed a few tendrils of hair away from her face.
His girl.
“How is it you are up and walking around and I’m still in bed?”
Brandon’s brows rose. “Laziness perhaps?” He gave her a slick half-smile. “I got a blood transfusion and I don’t know, it just did the trick.”
Brandon turned away to pull a chair to her bedside. When he sat down, his eyes held none of his previous merriment. Maggie’s breath paused; she hesitated and lingered on the thought she was his girl. The man before her — the handsome, strong, stubbornly independent man wanted her. Wait, did he? Maggie bit her lip, too afraid to ask for clarification. Her gaze focused on his constricted arm. “How’s your shoulder?”
Brandon adjusted his arm in the sling. “Never better. The bullet passed completely through. No internal damage. But my arm will be in this sling for at least a week.” Brandon gave her a goofy grin.
So unlike him. Maggie cocked her head to the side and gave his features greater study. Nope, just like him. She smiled. “Are you sure it’s just a week?”
“I’m only giving it a week.”
Maggie laughed softly.
They arrived at the hospital yesterday afternoon. While unconscious, doctors cleaned Maggie’s wound. The bullet had cleared through her upper chest. Doctors gave both agents a prognosis of a full recovery. Now a day later, her pain drastically reduced, Maggie looked forward to walking out of the hospital and traveling back to DC…with Brandon.
Brandon’s smile faded. Annoyance crossed his features. “I’ve got to go away for a while.”
Maggie blinked. “What? Where? For how long?” She almost retracted the last question. Did she really want to know? What if he changed his mind about her while he was away? They only spent a few days together in an intense manhunt. Could they’ve really formed an attachment? What if I’m fooling myself? The walls of Maggie’s throat thickened. What if he didn’t come back?
Brandon’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’re frowning. Are you alright?” He reached a hand to grasp hers.
Maggie nodded and squeezed back.
Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) Page 19
