A few more steps. Silently Malcolm urged Snyder forward. “What gave me away?”
Snyder smiled through his disappointment. He gestured to his desk. “You were too eager. Things happened too perfectly. You followed my lead too well, and you have a solution for every problem. I hired a detective to dig into your past, and he definitely earned his fee. And then, of course, I have a well-placed friend who looks out for me, warned me that things were about to heat up.”
Malcolm filed away that information. They had a leak somewhere in the chain of command.
Grunting with the effort, he held up a hand. “Don’t hurt Darcy. I didn’t give her a choice in her part of this.”
Snyder seemed to consider that point. Then he lifted a shoulder. “She’s useless to me. And now she knows too much. I don’t keep liabilities around.”
It didn’t look like Snyder was going to oblige him by taking that final step. Malcolm lunged for Snyder’s legs, knocking him to the ground and ruining his aim. They rolled together. Malcolm didn’t try for the gun, but he did slam his fist into Snyder’s wrist to knock the weapon away.
Snyder went for Malcolm’s wounded side. He brought up his knee and jabbed hard. Malcolm saw stars, but he wasn’t about to pass out while Darcy was in danger. Through the sheer strength of his will, he managed to grapple with Snyder. They rolled, each struggling for dominance. Malcolm used the momentum to his advantage, and he nailed Snyder hard with his right fist. He cocked his arm for a second blow just as backup burst through the door.
One agent held his gun on Snyder while two others pulled him to his feet. Malcolm rolled onto his back with every intention of getting up and going after Darcy.
Keith pressed down on his shoulder to keep him from sitting up. He lifted Malcolm’s shirt to assess the damage. “Ambulance is on the way. Stay put.”
“Get Darcy.”
Keith’s green eyes darkened, shuttering in the way they did when he wanted to keep the exact nature of his thoughts to himself. “Not yet. We need Halter’s confession.”
“She’s pregnant.”
The lack of emotion gave way to a combination of annoyance, vexation, and subtle joy. “You turned off your comm, but the mics in her jewelry were still on. Congratulations. Asshole.”
Keith showed no signs of movement. He listened intently to something in his earpiece. Malcolm wasn’t going to leave her to fate, and he didn’t understand why his best friend wouldn’t rush to save the woman Malcolm loved. He chopped at Keith’s forearm, knocking it away from his shoulder, and rolled out of reach.
From somewhere in the house, Darcy screamed. Two of his men jumped on him, holding him down and keeping him quiet with their hands over his mouth. He glared at Keith, but the motherfucker wouldn’t look at him.
That last image of Malcolm floated before her eyes. Blood seeped through the layers of his clothing low on his left side, leaving a dark, growing stain that scared the hell out of her. His olive skin turned paler by the second. She didn’t know how long he could hold on. She couldn’t countenance the thought of losing him.
“Come on.” Mickey’s iron grip dug into her upper arm. He hauled her down the wide hall. Fifteen minutes ago, the decor had struck her as warm and elegant. Now it seemed cheap and dirty like the man taking her away from Malcolm.
He pushed her toward the stairs to the basement. The wide, curving staircase was carpeted and bright, not like the stairs to her basement.
“Where are you taking me?” She no longer harbored the hope that Victor’s apparent affection for her meant he wouldn’t let anyone harm her.
In lieu of an answer, he shoved her hard. She lurched, and her ankle rolled painfully. She tripped down five steps and fell with her back against the wall. The curved design saved her from falling down the entire flight.
He pinned her in place with his hip in her stomach and his hand on her throat. “Vic said I could keep you for as long as I want. Did you know this house has a subbasement? It has a great dungeon down there, and I’ve spent some time building a little enclosure you’ll come to love.”
He lifted the gun to where her skin showed above the plunging neckline of her dress. With the barrel, he caressed a path down to her belly. She swallowed convulsively and gathered her courage. Under no circumstances would she beg for her life. Mickey Halter had to think she accepted her fate.
“Is that what you did with Scott?” She kept her voice soft, and she was careful to hide the edge of disgust and hate.
He shook his head. “There was no need to keep him. He pissed Vic off. Vic is a generous man. Turning down that offer was probably the biggest mistake in your Master’s life. Vic got tired of diplomacy and Yataines threatened to go to the police with evidence he said he had, so Vic shot him. He had no choice, not really. In exchange for the rights to you, I buried him under the foundation of that new pool out back.”
He crushed her lips with his mouth and slobbered his version of a kiss on her face. She shoved hard and brought her knee up sharply. Her docility had lulled him into relaxing his guard, but she hadn’t completely taken him unaware. As he teetered on the edge of the step, he grabbed her and pulled her down with him.
Gravity and physics worked together so that they rolled. The steps seemed to go on forever. Half crushed under Halter’s weight and unable to maneuver her arms, she hit at awkward angles. The suddenness and the unexpected lack of control knocked away the tremulous calm she thought she held.
She screamed.
A thunder of hooves and the cavalry arrived. A woman’s voice identified the FBI and strong hands peeled Halter’s weight from on top of her. Winded, she struggled to breathe.
The neutral tans of the paint in the hall mixed with brighter swatches lit by sconces. She recognized Keith’s stoic features looming over her.
“Darcy? Where are you hurt?” He cut the zip tie binding her wrists.
Her injuries didn’t matter. She could only see the circle of blood spreading on Malcolm’s jacket. “Malcolm. Victor shot Malcolm.”
“The EMTs are with him now. He’s awake and alert.”
She grasped Keith’s arms. “Help me up. I have to see him.”
Keith lifted her easily and set her on her feet. Her ankle buckled under her weight, and he caught her. “Is it broken?”
Darcy buried her face into his nylon jacket just below his shoulder, breathed through the sharp twinges, and shook her head. “Sprained. It’ll be a while before I wear heels again.”
He scooped her up and carried her all the way to the ambulance where they’d loaded Malcolm. On the way, he congratulated her on her impending motherhood. “We recorded everything. You’ll have to give your statement, and we’ll likely need you to testify if Snyder or Halter go to trial.”
Heat crept up her neck as she realized they had been listening in the whole time. Part of her had thought that when Malcolm turned off his comm, it meant their conversation would be private. It had only meant he couldn’t hear Keith in his ear, cautioning him against taking an ill-advised time-out from his cover.
“Keith? You were the shot caller on this, right?”
He blinked down at her, and his brows drew together in a frown. “Shot caller?”
“Yeah. You ran the whole thing, coordinated all the agents. Right?”
He nodded.
“You and Malcolm are close friends?”
“Yeah. We were in Iraq together. We took turns saving each other’s asses.”
She touched his cheek because he wasn’t looking at her and because she heard the undertones of worry and affection he had for his friend. “Thank you for this. I needed to know what happened to Scott. I was sure Mickey would spill the story, especially if he thought he had me under his control. You knew that too.”
Keith cleared his throat, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the hint of a blush stained his cheeks. It could have been exertion from carrying her up a flight of stairs, through the house, and out to the driveway where the ambulance waited. “Mal knew
that too, but he didn’t like putting you in danger. Don’t be surprised if he covers you in protective padding and chains you to the bed.”
The EMTs had Malcolm’s stretcher ready to load into the ambulance. Keith put her down, but he kept one arm around her waist and acted as support for her ankle. Malcolm stared up at her, his dark eyes shiny in the glare of the lights from the ambulance, the house, and headlights from a dozen or more federal vehicles. His shirt had been torn open, and his wound had been packed and covered. Blood seeped through the layers of gauze, and he looked so very pale. EMTs worked on one side, so they approached from the other.
“You’re hurt.” He turned his glare to Keith. “Son of a bitch. You waited too long. You let her get hurt.”
Not sure where it was safe to touch him, she put her hand on his arm. “I’m okay. It’s just my ankle. Heels, stairs, and a pushy guy.”
“You’re bleeding.” His voice grew stronger, and he tried to sit up.
Darcy wiped away the moisture on her lip and confirmed it was blood. The area throbbed. She didn’t know if Mickey’s attempted kiss had done the damage or if the tumble down the steps was to blame.
Keith pushed him back down. “She fell down the stairs. I’ll make sure she sees a doctor and gets an ultrasound. You stop giving the medical crew a hard time. You’re the worst fucking patient in the world.”
Malcolm finished his glare, settled back, and closed his eyes. “You’re the worst fucking best friend in the world.”
Horrified, Darcy gasped. She wanted to say something, to defend Keith’s decision. If he had come for her right away, she wouldn’t have been able to get the confession from Mickey, and they would likely never know where they’d buried Scott’s body. The case was solved, and she could finally do right by Scott. But tears choked her throat and poured from her eyes. She couldn’t speak a word.
Keith squeezed her in a comforting hug. “It’s okay. Like I said, he’s a bad patient. He doesn’t do injured well. If you two can survive his convalescence without you killing him, you’re golden.”
She shook her head. The damage to their friendship wasn’t even her primary concern. The events of the night converged. She bent over and buried her face in Malcolm’s shoulder on his good side. He wrapped his arm around her as best he could.
“Let it all out, sweetheart.”
She twisted her fingers in his jacket and hung on as tightly as she could. “I thought you were going to die. I love you, and I just found you. I can’t lose you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Never gonna happen. I’m too stubborn to die, especially since I haven’t yet convinced you to play cop and robber with me.”
Her laughter at his attempt at a joke was short-lived. The tears took over once again. He held her tightly, smoothing her hair away from her temple and peppering her face with kisses. He murmured promises and assurances in a low voice.
“I love you, Darcy. I swear I’m not going to die.”
She sobbed until her stomach heaved, which didn’t take too long, and she was sick on the pavement.
Keith held her so she wouldn’t fall. She felt weak and spent, and not in a good way. In the future, she could do without this kind of drama.
When she went to return to the comfort of his embrace, one of the EMTs put a restraining hand on her arm. “Ma’am, we need to get him in the bus. Surgery is prepped, and they’re waiting on him.”
She wanted to follow him into the ambulance and ride at his side. Keith must have read her mind. He shook his head and scooped her back up. “I have a car waiting for you.”
She tried to protest, but Malcolm turned Keith’s insistent statement into a command. “Sweetheart, stay with Keith until the doctor checks you out.”
Her first instinct was to argue and refuse, but one close look at his face showed just how pale he’d become. Lines of pain etched around his mouth and eyes. She swallowed her protest and nodded.
__________
The endless stream of fellow agents, family, and friends visiting Malcolm began before Darcy was released from the observation unit and continued until the nurses shooed everyone out of the room. Seeing as it was well past visiting hours and Malcolm was exhausted, he fell asleep just after he mumbled an order for Darcy to go home and get some rest.
She elected to disobey him and stay by his side. Keith, who had silently taken her as his responsibility, simply nodded his agreement, cast a long look in Malcolm’s direction, and left.
An oversize chair converted into a sleeper. She hopped around as silently as she could on her swollen ankle, making up the bed and brushing her teeth—Amy had brought a bag and a change of clothes to the ER—before crashing.
She woke sometime later. The dim moonlight leaked through the upper part of the tangled horizontal blinds to lend some definition to the objects in the room. A warm weight pressed against her hip and thigh. She blinked away a vague and anxious dream she couldn’t remember.
Reaching out, she set her hand on his leg. “You’re up.” Then she realized Malcolm wasn’t in bed. She sat up quickly. “You’re out of bed. You’re not supposed to get out of bed.”
He shrugged. Then he leaned over and pressed the button to turn on the small light next to her chair. “I don’t sleep well in strange places.”
She remembered him saying something similar in the hotel all those weeks ago. A hospital wasn’t much different. It was certainly noisier, and the nurses came in regularly to check on him. Lowering her lashes, she realized he’d never had a problem sleeping deeply at her house. “They’re going to keep you for at least another day. You just had major surgery, and you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
She tried to move, to help him return to bed, but he put a firm hand on her opposite hip and held her in place. His smile was small and short-lived. “It was minor surgery. They just took out the bullet and stitched me up. The faster I get out of bed and show them I can move around, the faster they’ll release me. But I didn’t wake you up to talk about that.”
Even if he had been wrong about the degree of his injury, she didn’t have the heart to argue with him, to tell him how terrified she was of losing him. His tone hinted at something serious on his mind. They really hadn’t been alone since Victor interrupted them in his office. She blinked hard. “You didn’t?”
“I thought I told you to go home and get some rest.”
She searched his deep, dark eyes for a sign that he was upset with her, but she found nothing. For a response, she settled on the simple truth. “I don’t want to be away from you.”
He’d woken up from surgery calling for her. He’d made the nurses find out how she was doing in the observation unit, and he’d had his sister visit her often and report her status back to him. When the nurses had evicted his visitors, they’d treated her like a spouse and brought extra blankets for her to use.
Malcolm nodded, accepting her reasoning. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to be away from you either, but you’re sleeping for two. We have to think about more than just ourselves right now.”
She chuckled quietly at his admonition. “I’ll go home and nap during the day, while your entourage is here to keep you company. You’re going to have to learn to live with the fact that I’m not going to leave you alone.”
Emotion clouded his eyes. He lifted his hand and rested it on the side of her face, a gentle caress that held the potential to turn into so much more. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I can’t promise life with me will be all sunshine and roses, but I can promise that I’ll never lie to you again.”
A stab of pain clutched at her heart and disappeared. “Thank you. I know being with you won’t always be easy. I can deal with that as long as I can trust you.”
He leaned a little closer, grimacing at the pain in his side. “I love you, sweetheart. I knew my number was up the moment I first looked into your eyes. I wanted to make everything better. I wanted to give you the world. I still do.”
She lifted he
r hand to his cheek, mirroring his caress. “I love you too, no matter what name you’re using.”
Shifting carefully, she closed the distance between them and rested her lips against his. He took the bait, feathering a lingering caress over her mouth, urging her to part for him. Tendrils of heat ignited a fire that wouldn’t be quenched anytime soon. She opened for him with a soft moan, and he seared her with his possessive domination.
When he drew back, leaving them both panting with desire, he peppered her face with soft kisses. “I was thinking that I could go by another name with you.”
Drugged by his lips and his nearness, she sighed in contentment and dropped her hands to grip his arms. “Okay. I’ll play cops and robbers with you. But I get to be the cop.”
He laughed, but he didn’t pause in his attentions. His mouth explored her neck and shoulder. “We’ll see about that. I was thinking that I’d like you to call me Master.”
Darcy tilted her head to the other side to give him the access he sought. She grinned. “I’d like that, Master.”
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Malcolm took her to put flowers on Scott’s grave. Victor had lawyered up immediately, but his attempt to murder a federal agent had been enough to hold him without bail. The FBI had searched the video and audio hidden in a basement vault and found plenty of evidence to prove their point. Of course, Victor had put all his financial resources into trying to get the evidence thrown out of court.
Halter had cut a deal for a lesser sentence in return for his testimony against Victor and information about Scott’s death. Apparently he was intelligent enough to know Victor planned to pin everything on him.
At long last, Scott had a final resting place, and those responsible for his murder were being punished. Scott’s parents had been over several times to visit. They made tentative overtures, which she accepted. She forgave them. An apology would have been nice, but it no longer mattered. She had too many good things going on in her life to worry about holding grudges.
Re/Bound (Doms of the FBI Book 1) Page 33
