“No, please, no,” Priscilla chanted.
Brenden grit his teeth and stared at Arturo, the real mastermind behind all this. Carlson was simply a tool.
At precisely that moment the front window shattered. A heavy object thunked on the floor, hissing a warning. Brenden moved at the same moment, twisting away from his captors. In the confusion everyone acted individually instead of a team.
Brenden drove his fist into one goon’s face, yanking the gun away from him. He twisted and fired at the bit of movement to his right.
He locked eyes with Damian at the instant life flickered out of his body.
And then the world went white as the flash grenade exploded.
19.
TUESDAY. UNKNOWN, CHICAGO, Illinois.
Priscilla’s eyes and throat stung from the smoke. Her ears rang and in the rush of men to come and go she kept getting kicked.
Large hands grabbed her by the arms. She flinched before she realized who it was.
Brenden.
This was their chance to get free.
She didn’t know how he did it, but he got her wrists lose. She pushed to her feet, wobbling a little and blinking back tears as the gas stung her eyes.
Brenden clutched her to him and rushed across the room, toward the window. They hadn’t even gone three steps before more hands grabbed her. She tried to hold on to Brenden, but her numb hands wouldn’t cooperate.
The hands yanked her back and the next thing she felt was the cool press of metal to her temple. She sucked in a gasp and watched Brenden whirl, only to be tackled by one of the goons. The two men crashed to the ground, landing half in and half out of the house.
Arturo wasn’t going to use her as a shield.
She’d been through more than any human should. She’d been humiliated, hunted, nearly killed. No more.
Priscilla lifted her right foot and drove it back and down. Barefoot it wasn’t much, but she jabbed with her elbow. It was enough to knock the gun off its mark. She grabbed his arm and twisted, just like she’d been taught, and came away with the weapon.
Arturo stared at her for one shocked second before rage twisted his face.
She fired straight into his chest.
It was one of maybe a dozen times she’d shot a gun, but the basics of it had stuck with her.
All around her chaos reigned. Men yelled, the doors burst open, but she stood there, caught between an odd moment of relief and guilt.
She’d just shot a person. A person who planned to murder her, the man she loved and the man who’d tried to kill her.
Strong arms wrapped around her. This time she knew it was Brenden.
He picked her up, gun and all, and rushed out the front window with her. Out on the street lights flashed, sirens wailed.
It was over. At least this chapter of it was.
For the first time since Rio there was no fear, no dread, just peace. Because maybe finally she could focus on this man and the gift, they’d been given.
TUESDAY. CHICAGO POLICE Department, Chicago, Illinois.
This was all bullshit.
Priscilla tried to cross her arms tighter over her ruined shirt. Buttons had popped off. There was a rip in one sleeve. Her slacks had a mess of tears in the delicate fabric. And she was still barefoot.
The officer across from her hummed and frowned at his list of questions.
Despite being found on the scene as a victim, the police had insisted on separating her and bringing her in for questioning. She’d known she could refuse, but she’d also known that doing that would make things worse. So here she was, freezing her ass off while this man strung her along.
“When you broke into the warehouse—”
“Stop.” Priscilla clenched her teeth.
The man peered at her over the rims of his glasses.
“Do not attempt to lead me,” she said slowly. Leading questions got people in trouble, allowing conclusions to be drawn where there was no fact. “If you’d like me to relate events to you and convey what I saw, I’m more than happy to. But do not lead me down the path you want this story to go. I’ll ask for a lawyer and this will be over.”
“You seem to forget who is in charge here, Ms. Yellmez.”
“Yilmaz.”
She was about done playing nice.
How long had she been here? How many questions had she answered?
Where was Brenden? Were they treating him this way?
A sharp knock interrupted the staring contest between her and Detective Dickweed. The door swung open, and the detective turned to direct his scowl at the newcomer.
“I said we weren’t to be interrupted,” the detective said.
A man Priscilla had never seen before stepped through the door flanked by a younger woman. The man’s gaze zeroed in on the detective and if Priscilla had thought it was cold in the room before it was downright artic now.
“Detective,” the man said with ice in his voice.
“Mr. Vardavas.” The detective’s lip curled around the name in a distasteful way.
How many times had the detective gotten that one wrong?
Priscilla liked the newcomer automatically.
“My client is done here,” Mr. Vardavas announced.
Client?
“Your client—”
“Stop right there.” Vardavas slashed his hand through the air. “You have had Ms. Yilmaz in your custody for four hours and I can see that she has received neither medical attention nor a pair of God damn shoes. If you don’t want me to turn this into a circus, I suggest you do this witness the courtesy of allowing her to go home and recover after such a traumatic day.”
Vardavas reached behind him. Priscilla glimpsed an exchange of items between the man and the woman she assumed was his assistant.
Priscilla stopped listening to the detective’s protests the moment she glimpsed a pair of familiar sneakers.
Shoes.
Vardavas circled the table and set the shoes in front of her then shook out a hoodie. A hoodie she’d worn before even if it swallowed her whole.
She shoved her feet in the shoes then stood, her muscles protesting the hours spent on a cold chair in a chilly room. She slid her arms into the still-warm jacket and wrapped it around her, breathing in the clean soap scent of the man who’d worn it first.
Was he there? Were they doing this to him, too?
“Ms. Yilmaz, if you’re ready?” Vardavas gestured at the door.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t go far, Yellmez,” the detective said.
Vardavas gently took her by the elbow and steered her out into the hall. The young woman met Priscilla’s gaze with warm empathy, a smile and a steaming cup of coffee.
“Bless you.” Priscilla took the cup mostly for the warmth then glanced at the lawyer. “I’m sorry, but who are you? I’m grateful, just...”
“I am one of Asclepius’ lawyers.” Vardavas once more took her by the elbow and guided her forward. “Sorry this took so long. It shouldn’t have, but I’m here now and all will be taken care of.”
“What about the others?” What about Brenden?
“What others?” Vardavas frowned down at her.
“The team?”
“Oh, the Aegis Group guys?” Vardavas grinned.
“Yes.” Priscilla’s heart seized up.
“That’s a good bunch to fall into when you need a hero, isn’t it?” He glanced down and his smile vanished. “They’re fine. One in particular is very eager to see you.”
“Brenden?” Her throat tightened to the point his name came out a squeak.
“That sounds right. Truth be told, by the time someone with a brain called me things had gotten pretty hairy around the office. I will be handling all of this from here on out. Asclepius recognizes their mistake and will rectify it immediately. Together we’ll get to the bottom of this. We have some paperwork to go through. But not here.”
Priscilla let the lawyer guide her through the police department. Some sta
red at her, others ignored her. In their eyes she was probably guilty, but that was because they didn’t yet know the truth. She hoped people would, that the death and violence would mean something in the end.
“Can the paperwork wait?” Now that she was moving aches and pains she’d been able to ignore were waking up.
Vardavas paused near a side entry to the building and frowned down at her. “My standard line is, no, this can’t wait.”
She nodded, understanding his meaning. “Well, Mr. Vardavas, it’s going to have to.”
“Hey.” He shrugged. “I tried.”
“You really did.”
“Now, I think you’re due a visit to the doctor and some rest.” He reached out and pushed the door open for her.
Priscilla squinted at the late afternoon light, her head throbbing and protesting the number of times it had been banged around this last week.
“Pris?”
She knew that voice.
God, she loved that voice.
She blinked, trying to get rid of the sun spots. A shadow loomed over her. A familiar, wide one that blocked out the light as he reached her.
Brenden stopped, not touching her, just looking down at her.
“It’s that bad, is it?” She lifted a hand to her face and head, gingerly touching her cheek then forehead.
“No.” He slid his fingers along her jaw. It was the lines on his brow and bracketing his mouth that made him out to be a liar.
She wrapped her arm around his waist, doing her best not to spill the coffee, and leaned into him.
“What happened? Why weren’t they letting you go?” he asked.
“There’s too many departments involved right now. Too much jurisdictional confusion,” Vardavas said. “It’ll get sorted out tomorrow.”
“Sorted out?” Priscilla glanced up at Brenden.
“There was a lot of damning evidence at the scene.” He rubbed a soothing hand against her back. “Asclepius took a moment to convince, but the truth was there. Unlike the cops in Rio, the American police aren’t going to be bought off. The truth, the real truth, is going to come out.”
“It’s going to be bad for Asclepius.” Vardavas focused on Priscilla. “I have some documents you need to sign, but if you’ll cooperate Asclepius is prepared to stand by you through this.”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Priscilla could feel the exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking their toll, not to mention all the fun, new bruises and injuries she’d added.
“Of course.” Vardavas held out his business card.
Brenden took it. “I’ll be in touch.”
Priscilla closed her eyes, soaking in that detail. She’d never allowed anyone to take care of her, to do for her, until Brenden. It came down to trust, and she’d given it to him before she knew who he really was.
TUESDAY. SAFE HOUSE, Chicago, Illinois.
Brenden was glad to have the condo to themselves for a little while. Soon enough the guys would be back from dinner and they’d begin debrief, but for now Brenden needed a little quiet time with Priscilla.
He secured the door behind them, his hand never leaving the small of her back.
The doctor had prescribed a minor muscle relaxer and suggested she follow up with her normal physician for any new pains or problems. There just wasn’t anything to triage.
Brenden wouldn’t be there to make sure she went to the doctor or to take care of her. That knowledge gnawed at him. He didn’t like knowing that in a very short time they’d be on opposite ends of the country.
Without discussing it they both headed toward her bedroom. He once more shut and secured the door.
He almost wished there was another door or maybe a panic room he could squirrel her away to, but that was ridiculous and he knew it.
“What do you say to sleep?” She hooked her fingers in his.
He tugged her to him. “I was thinking a shower first.”
“Is that like, a thing now? Bathing together?” Her brow quirked up, her good humor holding firm.
“Yes.” He tightened his grip on her.
The smile faded and for a moment they just stared.
She’d never know if he didn’t tell her, if he didn’t explain it. Without words, without making an effort, this spark they had would die. But his mouth wouldn’t work and he didn’t know where to start.
But he knew what he wanted to do.
Brenden backed toward the bathroom, her following him through the door and onto the tile.
He let go of her hand and began unfastening the remaining buttons, then slid both the hoodie and shirt off her shoulders.
“These moments are...” He tried to grasp a word, one that encompassed everything about right now.
“Special?”
“More than that.” He ran his knuckles up her arms until he could clasp his hands around the back of her neck. “You’re a strong woman, and yet you let me take care of you when it’s just us.”
Her lips twisted up. “I think you’ve taken care of me even when it isn’t just us.”
“But you allow this.”
How did he explain it?
Taking care of her in the field was his job. Right now, when it was just them, it wasn’t about work or what he had to do, it was what she let him do. He knew she didn’t allow just anyone close. He was a lucky bastard.
Priscilla wrapped her arms around him and lifted up on tip-toe for a quick kiss.
“I trust you. You aren’t going to lord it over me you saved my ass. You aren’t in competition with me. We’re...a team. And I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.”
A team.
Yeah.
That was right.
Brenden finished undressing her and turned on the shower. She was adamant about avoiding the tub, citing the muscle relaxers, so they made quick work of cleaning up. He kept an eye on her, watching the way her movements grew slower, a bit clumsier as the drugs took hold. In the end he helped wash her hair before bundling her up in a robe and sending out to get in bed.
How the hell did they continue?
Riley and Erin made things work because they were always traveling to where the other was.
Nolan and Yvonne said the time apart worked in their favor.
Vaughn and Carla were always on the phone or doing video chats.
They all made it work. Any number of guys who both worked for Aegis Group and maintained a healthy relationship figured it out.
Brenden could, too.
He turned off the water and did a hasty job drying off. There wasn’t a lot of time to put himself out there and make plans. Debriefing would begin later and they’d finish in the morning or when the team returned to Seattle, which was probably eminent.
Could he stay behind?
They were due a week off after this at least.
He wrapped the towel around his hips and entered the bedroom to find Priscilla curled up in the middle of the bed, swathed in terrycloth.
Brenden’s heart ached at the sight of her. He’d been asleep, walking through life in a daze for so long. And then he’d met her and the truth was he hadn’t been living. He’d been holding himself back out of fear.
That had to change.
He climbed up in the bed and lay out next to her. She cracked one eye open and reached out, curling her fingers around his.
“I should really call my parents again,” she muttered.
There’d been a hurried call while at the hospital. Her parents had seen the news and after a few hoops had connected with them.
“Want me to?” he asked.
“Maybe in the morning?” She tightened her hold on him. “Have you thought about going by and seeing your family?”
He propped his head up. Part of him wanted to hide from his family, from what he’d no doubt put them through. That wasn’t fixing the problem.
“I think I’d like to,” he said. “The team is probably going home tomorrow, but I could stay a while longer...”
“
It would be nice to have a familiar face around. It sounds like they’re going to ask me to stay here for a few days.”
What did that mean?
Where was this going?
He licked his lips and went for it since he wasn’t a mind reader. “What happens next?
Priscilla blew out a breath and rolled onto her back. “I don’t know. I mean, stuff is going to be worked out in regard to Carlson and Lobo, but after that? It’s really hard to say what’s going to happen. Asclepius isn’t a bad company, I just...maybe I want to work for someone whose main objective is doing good?”
Brenden swiped his thumb over her knuckles. She had a lot more on her mind than he did. He couldn’t fault her for not taking him into consideration. After all, what were they to each other?
She rolled to her side again and blinked at him. “That wasn’t what you meant, was it?”
“Not exactly.”
“You meant what’s next for...?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He’d hold back, bid his time until she had room for him.
“Us?” The word sounded funny, wobbly and full of feeling.
“We can talk about it later.”
Priscilla sat up. The towel wrapped around her dark hair fell off and she sat up. Lines of worry creased her face, the transformation so sudden Brenden found himself glancing toward the door and reaching for his weapon.
“Part of me is scared this is going to wither and die before we can really try, you know?” She lifted her hands and ran her fingers back through her hair.
“Hey? Hey.”
He scooted closer until their legs and fingers were a tangled mess. They sat facing each other, the rawness of the moment giving him the courage to say it all.
“I’m a pretty fucked up, broken man. After the chicken shit I’ve been, I don’t deserve anyone taking a chance on me.”
She scowled and tried to tug her hand from his. “You are not.”
“I am, but I don’t want to be anymore. Before you, I hadn’t looked at a woman or thought about anything other than work. Now, you’re all I think about. I don’t want to let this—you—go.”
“I don’t either. It’s like I’ve known you my whole life. I don’t want that to change.” She stared up at him, a familiar hope shining in her eyes.
Dangerously Broken (Aegis Group Lepta Team Book 4) Page 22
