In the Air Tonight

by Stephanie Tyler

  He locked the front door, pulled down the shades on the windows and turned to find Reid and Caleb already sitting at one of the tables, Reid shuffling the cards.

  Fuck it, cleanup could wait.

  Mace sat at the table with them, played a few hands of poker, but the mood was somber. He noted that Reid’s gun was next to him on the table.

  “That was a stupid move Paige made this afternoon,” Reid said finally.

  “If you’re looking for me to disagree with you, keep waiting,” Mace said.

  “She can’t play bartender forever.” Caleb put down a winning hand and the other men groaned.

  “Paige is going to have to until we figure everything out,” Mace told Cael, who was too busy scooping up his winnings to care about either that or what Reid had just said.

  Or at least he seemed to be, until he asked, “When’s your leave up, Mace?”

  Reid shot Mace a look and frowned and Mace told Cael, “When you’ve got your full memory back.”

  “What if that doesn’t happen?” Caleb asked and Reid muttered a curse.

  “Then we stay here. Figure something else out,” Mace said.

  “Wait a minute. You’re not going back because of me?”

  “Cael, we’re not ready to make those decisions.”

  “What’s with the we? You have no memory issues, dammit. You can escape back to the military.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to escape into anything anymore,” Mace said fiercely. “Maybe I need to stay and feel the goddamned pain for once in my life.”

  Caleb shook his head at his friend. “I know you’ve seen enough in your life, Mace. You’ve just never let it out before … never let anyone see it as clearly as you are now with Paige.”

  Because it had grown too big to hide. “Concentrate on getting yourself better. Stop worrying about me.”

  “Never,” Cael said in a hoarse voice. “Because you’d never stop worrying about me.”

  Mace couldn’t argue with that.

  They all heard the screech of tires—a quick glance at the newly installed security monitor showed a car racing toward the bar, and Mace jumped up to the bar’s front window in time to see the car crash into the woods.

  He unlocked the front door and ran across the snow to the scene. The front end of the car smoked from its collision with a thick tree—Mace yanked the driver’s door open to get to the man slumped over the wheel. Gently pulled him backward so that he was leaning against the seat—his throat was slit from end to end.

  It was Arthur Somberg.

  Mace froze. Then he put his hand to his own throat for a second before moving it to try to stop Somberg’s bleeding, a natural—if not logical—reaction, but Paige stopped him.

  She yanked his hand down. “You don’t have gloves on.” And she handed him a pair of latex gloves as she took a towel she’d thrown over her shoulder and pressed it against Somberg’s throat. With her free hand, she checked his pulse. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

  Before he could do anything else but pull on gloves to help Paige, Reid and Caleb were there.

  “Ed and Doc are both on their way,” Caleb said. Then he noticed where Somberg had been wounded, and paled. “Can we move him?”

  Paige shook her head. “No, and I can’t do much for him either. He needs surgery immediately.” And then she began to speak to Somberg himself. “Arthur, stay with me, okay? The ambulance is on its way … you’re going to be just fine.”

  Mace almost believed her. Her voice was comforting even as she pressed the towel as tightly as she could to staunch the bleeding without cutting off his airway.

  “How the hell did he drive?” Paige asked softly. Mace looked down and saw that Somberg’s foot had been weighted and tied to the gas pedal.

  “This had to be done at the very end of the driveway,” Mace said. “The corner by the mailbox is out of view of the camera.”

  Reid didn’t wait, took off down the drive with his flashlight out and his weapon raised and Mace turned his attention back to Paige. She was speaking to Somberg, her voice quiet and steady and, he imagined, reassuring—if the man could even hear.

  And as much as he wanted her to go inside and get away from this growing nightmare, he couldn’t pull her off the job. It was what she was born to do and she was obviously damned good at it.

  He would simply concentrate on helping her any way that he could until Doc arrived.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Paige slipped her free hand into Somberg’s, her palm resting against something warm and metal. She tried to pull her hand away quickly but Somberg’s reflex kicked in and his fingers wrapped around hers urgently. His eyes opened and he moved his mouth, but only gurgling sounds came out.

  Thankfully, her gloves stopped the contact from becoming too intense. She forgot about it momentarily as she told Somberg, “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine. The doctor’s on his way.”

  But the man was struggling, which only made it harder for him to get oxygen. He was gripping her hand now and she tightened her own grip to let him know she had him, even as the medal was a brutal reminder of just who was behind this.

  She knew she would have to touch it with her bare hands to find out what had happened here.

  “Paige, what is it?” Mace was next to her, looking between her and Arthur, who had passed out again. “Did he say something?”

  “No. But he’s holding something.” She eased her hand away from Somberg’s, which had gone slack, grasping the object in her fingertips so it didn’t fall to the ground.

  She hadn’t been able to touch the St. Christopher medal found on Big Harvey because it had been bagged as evidence. But with this one, she would have no choice.

  She continued to hold the medal as Doc’s truck barreled up the hill behind Ed’s. Once Doc got to them, she let go of the towel so he could check on Arthur and moved away.

  She slipped her glove partway off and pressed the medal to her skin. Absolute, unbridled terror raced through her as the dark scenes flashed before her eyes.

  Murder and fear rolled into one. This was new violence she saw, perpetrated by Jeffrey, but not on this man. Arthur’s face didn’t flash before her eyes.

  She heard Mace talking to her, was aware that Caleb was too, but she couldn’t let go of the object—or the images that raced through her mind.

  The St. Christopher medal felt cold against her bare fingertips—cold and hard and unforgiving—just like the man it belonged to.

  There were hands on her now, shaking her lightly. Concerned voices, and she finally handed the medal to Mace. She put her glove back on and told him, “The medal definitely belongs to Jeffrey—Jeffrey didn’t give it to Arthur, though. There’s a woman. The wound … This was a message,” she said softly. “You’re in danger because of me. You all are.”

  But for once, crippling guilt didn’t wash over her. Maybe it was because Mace just nodded, a steely look in his eyes, as if that didn’t matter to him. He believed in her the way Gray had. He was a survivor, but so was she. She’d been to hell and back and she’d survived, dammit.

  She’d survived.

  The revelation spread over her skin like hot sunshine. A tingle … a burn. A reminder.

  Touching that medal would normally take everything from her, everything she didn’t want to give, especially to Jeffrey. Tonight, she refused to let it.

  “Paige, come on, I need your help,” Doc called—he’d leaned Arthur’s seat back and there was more blood and she went to him and cranked the oxygen tank Doc had at Arthur’s side.

  Tonight, she would do what she needed to for her patient and then she would do what she wanted to for Mace.

  The ambulance came after an hour—an hour of desperately trying to keep Arthur from bleeding out, and failing.

  “We did everything we could,” Doc told her as they walked back toward the bar. Mace, Ed, Cael and Reid were waiting in the parking lot, talking with the state troopers as the ambulance pulled away
with Arthur’s body inside.

  She’d hated the man, and still she would’ve done anything she could to save him.

  Once inside the warmth of the bar, she ripped her bloody gloves off and put them in a plastic bag Doc had given her for medical waste. Then she placed her palms on the bar, let her head hang as she took some deep breaths, the adrenaline rush subsiding, leaving her shaky and overwhelmed.

  “Ed says you worked the ER.”

  “Yes, always. I like it there.”

  “It’s chaotic.”

  “It’s what I know.” It had been a little over a week since she’d last been in the ER, but it felt like a lot longer—as if a lifetime had passed between then and now.

  It also felt like a lifetime had passed since she’d been to see her brother, and for that she was grateful.

  “You did good, Paige. If you stay in town, I’ll hire you.”

  She wanted to believe Doc, but she couldn’t. “This is my fault, dammit. But I can’t go back to hiding,” she muttered and then realized that Doc might not know who she actually was. She lifted her head and stared at him.

  “I know who you are,” he said. “Ed told me.”

  “And you still want me to work with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” He shook his head. “You’re too hard on yourself, young lady. Harder than other people are, no doubt.”

  Yes, she’d heard that before, far too often.

  Doc cleared his throat. “Gray was a good kid. They all are.”

  It was funny to think of any of these men as kids, but to Doc …

  “I was in Vietnam,” he explained. “These kids—Mace and Cael and the other one, who pretends he doesn’t cause trouble—they’re young and tough, but even warriors need a break. I watched many a good man in my day lose their ever loving minds in combat. The more elite they are, the farther they have to fall.”

  “You’ve known Mace a while, then?”

  Doc shot her a sly grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been pumped for information.”

  She smiled, but she didn’t deny it.

  “I grew up here and I came back to work in this town when Mace was still a teenager. He couldn’t wait to get the hell out.”

  “He told you that?”

  “He didn’t have to. When you’re young, you want out. When you get older, you drift back. Of course, Mace had circumstances then. His grandparents were tough stock, and I’m not sure they were meant to raise children.”

  So Mace had made it out—only to be dragged back in to take care of his team because they all seemed to gravitate here.

  But who was taking care of him?

  As she pondered that, Doc continued. “This place suits you. Suits Mace too, but he doesn’t want to let himself see it. Thought he was meant to be transient, but that’s not the case. He just needed someone to show him.” Doc looked pointedly at her.

  “He won’t let me in all the way.”

  “Bullshit.” Doc said it gently, though. “I can read you like a book. You’re holding back and it’s time to stop. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing good ever came from secrets.”

  She nodded, because she certainly agreed with the sentiment.

  “You know, you haven’t answered my question about working here with me. Don’t wait too long to give me an answer, young lady. I’m an old man, prone to forgetting things.” He winked before he walked away from her and out of the bar, and as she watched Doc, she had a feeling she was seeing hints of what Mace would be like … and she liked what she saw.

  After the men gave their statements to the state troopers and Ed, Mace and Caleb and Reid all remained outside while Doc and Paige went to wash up inside the bar.

  Mace was already dialing the prison. He listened to the warden as Reid muttered to himself and Caleb stood with his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, staring up into the night sky.

  When he hung up, he told them, “Jeffrey’s there—safe but not so sound. He’s either got food poisoning or they’re watching him for a possible ruptured appendix. This happened after Paige and I left; before he took ill, he got into a fight with another inmate. Tried to slash the guy’s throat.”

  The scar on his own throat tingled as he spoke and he fought the urge to rub it. Bad enough that Caleb was staring at it.

  What Jeffrey did to the inmate wasn’t lost on any of them any more than the symbolism of how Arthur had been killed.

  “You’re a threat to Jeffrey,” Cael noted.

  “Jeffrey’s not getting to me or Paige—to any of us,” Mace said firmly.

  “We need to make sure of it,” Caleb confirmed.

  “We need better surveillance, because the camera’s not enough,” Reid stated. “And who the hell’s going to volunteer to hang out at night in below-zero temps?”

  The two men simply stared at him.

  “Oh, come the fuck on,” Reid protested.

  “Your suggestion,” Mace said evenly. “I’d hate to take away your glory. After all, it’s your plan.”

  “Take it away, man, no problem,” he muttered. But although he was a southern boy at heart, he’d spent many years in Alaska with Kell, so this wouldn’t be a hardship for him. “Whatever. I’ll suit up and spend the rest of the night outside. I hate to say it, but the way all of this is shaping up, one of us is bound to be the next target.”

  “Yeah, the cut throat was a really subtle message,” Mace muttered as he glanced toward the front door of the bar—Doc was walking across the icy lot toward them.

  “I found something on the body,” Doc said when he got close. “A puncture mark from a needle in his neck.”

  He pointed to a spot on his own neck.

  “So whoever killed him knocked him out first?” Mace asked.

  “I’d have to run some tests to be sure, but the mark’s fresh.”

  “Do you remember seeing one on Harvey?” Reid asked.

  “No. But he was in worse shape—he had some frostbitten areas on his bare skin. I could’ve missed it. His tox screen came back negative, but that doesn’t mean much—there are some poisons that don’t show up,” Doc said. “I’ll let you know when I have the results.”

  After he fired up his old truck and left, Reid said, “This opens up possibilities.”

  “Ed still has Adrienne in custody,” Caleb reminded them. “So it has to be another girlfriend. Vivi’s still running all the female names on Jeffrey’s visitors’ log, with Dylan’s help.”

  “Good. But still, cutting someone’s throat is rough work for a woman.”

  “Not for one who’s just like Jeffrey,” Reid pointed out, and the men let that possibility settle in. Jeffrey was cunning enough on his own. Now he had a potential mini-army of women who would do anything he asked. And Jeffrey was definitely asking.

  Paige dragged herself upstairs to shower. Mace joined her in the master suite about an hour later, after she’d pulled on some sweats, still attempting to come down from her adrenaline rush by pacing, rubbing her hands together, trying to get the feel of the St. Christopher medal off of them.

  He looked as tense as she felt. “Reid and Keagen are both staying downstairs for the rest of the night. Caleb will take a shift too—Vivi’s still working through the list of Jeffrey’s visitors.” Mace ran a hand through his hair as he toed off his boots, which were already loosened. He stripped off his shirt then sank to the bed and ran his hands through his hair again, like he didn’t know what else to do with them, or himself. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with any of that.”

  “I just needed to feel … useful. Not to be someone who needs looking after all the time. I know I’m in a bad situation. I know.”

  Mace didn’t say anything.

  “You live with danger on a daily basis when you’re working,” she told him.

  “I’m trained for it.”

  “I’m trained to help people. I didn’t like Arthur but I couldn’t not help him.” She paused, wondering if it was the right time to men
tion Doc’s offer or not and decided she was tired of secrets. “Doc told me he wants me to work with him … if I stay.”

  Mace didn’t answer her, just lay back on the bed, his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, while she stared at his naked chest—the muscles, the scars, all the things that made up the man she was falling for so deeply.

  “This place is haunted,” he said, sounding tired. “Ghosts of things gone wrong. My mother fought like hell to escape, and she did. But not to anything good. And I finally managed to leave this place, only to keep getting pulled back, again and again.”

  “If you’re so miserable here, why do you stay?”

  “I try not to. I’ve got an apartment in North Carolina, near the post. But these guys are drawn to this place. Always have been.”

  “Gray talked about this place all the time—everyone loves hanging out here,” she agreed.

  “Except for me,” he interjected.

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s not a home to me. Never was.”

  “But home is where the people you consider family are, and that family, the one you chose in the end, can save you,” she said, realized that although she couldn’t save Arthur, there were people here she could save. And suddenly she wanted nothing more than to do so. “You consider your team family. And I want to know if I can become a part of that. Because if it’s never going to happen, you need to tell me so.”

  He didn’t, asked instead, “What did you feel that night four years ago when you touched my knife?”

  “I saw loneliness. Fear. I saw me,” she whispered. “And it felt right. Things have to change, I need to change,” she told him. “I want to save you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you, if I’m not there already.”

  The second the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d spoken the complete and utter truth.

  CHAPTER

  17