“It’ a business,” she said, picking up some panties and a nightgown. “A rotten one, sure, but at least, with me, the girls are protected, well-paid and healthy. Still, it’s not something you want to brag about at family dinners, you know?”
With now steadier hands, she pushed passport and ID in her purse. “And I needed to protect you. People who come to us? Well, let’s just say you want to keep them away. Not all of them, of course. Some are just lonely, but the better part of ’em? Nope. Which brings us to this mess.”
Mary cleared her voice, failed to keep it cool. She sat again, and crossed her hands together.
“Last night I hosted a big party, and that’s an understatement. They booked the whole floor, all the girls were busy with it. A classy thing.”
Mary scoffed.
“For as classy as a brothel can get. When it was time, I welcomed them, and left for my business. Half night in, Snow came to me scared as hell. She was crying and she said–” Mary’s voice quivered with guilt and fear. “One of the men bragged about being promoted to field agent or something. He worked for a big ass organization, one that would bring all sorts of evil back in US territory – his words. It would make the company the most powerful in the States, because they would control these bad people. I told Snow it was just drunken talk, but she said he was serious.”
She steadied her voice for the confession burning her conscience. It was her fault, and she would own up her mistake. All her life, she will live to regret her negligence. “I sent her back. God forgive me, but I sent her back. I told her I would look into this, but she had to go back. So I called Benjamin.”
She hugged herself, wishing he was there. “He’s a good friend,” she said, not pushing back the girlish smile warming her words. “Something more than a friend. He came here last year. I was doing my round, talking to guests, and I saw this young man with amazing brown eyes full of shadows. He was… clean. We ended up talking all night, he’s been coming back every time he can ever since. We have a pact: he doesn’t care about my job, I don’t care about his. He’s smart, and funny and so, so sweet.”
Mary giggled, but something choked the sound. “I wish I had the time to tell you more about him. Anyway, I called him. I didn’t have a name to give him–‘no questions’ is our motto–but I went into the private parking and took the tag number. Benjamin called me back a couple of hours later, told me it was some bad shit. One of the guys is Gage Noxell. Ben told me he’s bad, and these people are the kind that kill you if you step in their way. He wanted me to get away. I told him no, but he said if I didn’t move my beautiful ass from Miami, he would come and haul me off in person.
“It scared me, he doesn’t lose his mind easily, and I trust him. So, I agreed, I told him I would go to New York, pick up my baby sister and take her for a long overdue vacation. Ben said no, he would take care of us. I just had to get you, and he would send someone they call Bear. He would keep us safe until Ben and the Team got things sorted out. Ben said he was going to call me as soon as he found out more; since I’m leaving this phone for you, I don’t think I’ll get his message. We’ll have to ask this Bear guy.”
Mary picked up the phone. Whatever mistake she’d made, whatever would happen, she wanted Ann to be sure about one thing.
“I want you to know that I love you, so much. You’re not just the best sister, but also the best friend I could ask for. Forgive me for lying to you, and for putting you in danger.” She smiled, a black tear running across her cheek. “I guess I’ll be seeing you in a short while. I love you, Ann. Always remember it.
* * * * *
Ann cried. She hugged the phone close to her heart, as if holding it there would bring Mary closer.
She cried because the arms around her weren’t her sister’s, and they would never be again. And when those arms gave her unconditional comfort, when strong hands stroked her hair, she cried because she was alive and in love, while her sister’s life was over.
Mary had been in love, too, she had hopes for her future. But someone killed her.
Ann cried and cried, but like the worst hurricane dries out, tears lost power, the fingers grasping fiercely at Mark’s shirt lost the crimson glow of desperation. Silence fell, unavoidable and quiet like the slow withering of a flower.
Ann’s mind, her soul, were numb. Heavy. But she stood up, wiped the ghost of her last tear away from beaten eyes.
She pressed some key on the phone, nodded to the robotic voice that guided her to the next message, and handed it to Mark. “There’s a message. I think it’s Ben’s. You should be the one listening to it.”
Mark took the phone as Mouse’s voice lived once again.
* * * * *
Something was off. Way off.
Ben could tell by the strange beeping in his computer, by the interference on the line only the Team used.
And Mary didn’t pick up the damned phone. It was the answering machine again.
“Damn it, Mary,” he snapped, jerking his glasses on the desktop. “I really hope flying’s why you’re not picking up. I talked to the guys, we’ll work things out. Bear’s on his way, he’s coming to your sister’s and will take you both to Savannah. You stumbled on a giant hornet’s nest, Mary, but we’ll keep you safe, we’ll see you through this crap.”
Frustration sharpened his voice. “You’ll quit after this, you hear me? You’ll close down the second floor, and we’ll be together like two normal people.”
Just saying it, just thinking of a normal, boring life with her relaxed the tension gripping his gut. He left his chair, paced in circles in the bright room hating the way he’d spoken to her.
“I’m sorry, Mary. I don’t want to boss you around, but this is very big and very bad. The man I told you about, Noxell? Well, Snow got it right. He and the other dudes you hosted work for what’s gonna be the most powerful criminal organization, and I’m not talking just in Miami. They took identity laundry to the next level. It’s not new IDs, socials and passports, they make them a new, fake, life: bank history, family history, pictures and friends.”
If they weren’t the people putting the woman he loved in danger, he would be impressed by what they could do.
“Old fingerprints and DNA records are wiped away. They even do stuff to their teeth and faces. And now there’s a luxury cargo stuffed with criminals and terrorists crossing the Atlantic, ready to dock in Miami. I can’t think about how much money’s in this, but I’m sure it’s enough to justify murder – yours.”
He swallowed, trying to ignore the icy feeling in his chest. “You know I don’t overreact, it’s that bad. When Bear finds you and your sister, stick with him. Don’t trust anybody else, Mary, no matter who they say they are.”
He heard a soft, nearly audible squeak. The hair at the base of his neck stood up. “Stay with him, Mary. Stay with him.”
Chapter 22
Rage, of any shade and source, suited Mark. It always had. Ann had seen him annoyed, cross, downright mad. She’d never seen him like this.
He’d listened to Mouse’s message dead still. Only the rhythmical rise and fall of his chest betrayed his humanity – not his face, hard and as unmerciful as the eerie silence before the first cry of war. Not his eyes, empty like desolate foxholes.
In the ugly absence of sounds, the beeping of the disconnected line mocked them.
Mark carefully set the phone on the bed. As he got up, a jolt of primal fear seared through Ann. For the first time, he scared her.
There was too much fierceness in his precise movements as he stood in front of the window, seething violence waiting for an excuse to detonate. He would never hurt her, but nobody in their right mind would put themselves in front of a raging bull.
Yet, things had to be decided.
“We must take the phone to the police,” she whispered, cautious.
“We hide the phone. Find Noxell. Then we go to the FBI.”
“Why? We know everything now, we can ask for help.”
He turned around. His body was still under the thick curse of rage, but sadness gushed from his eyes. “I already knew Mouse was clean. But the others? Mouse arranged the meeting in Savannah, and he’s the only one who spoke with them.”
“Do you think Noxell has the answer?”
He nodded.
“It’s one thing to survive, but getting in under their noses and snatching one of them?” She shook her head.
Mark gave her his back again, shutting her out. “I will have what I want.”
“Do you want to die?” Frustration made her bold, pushed her in front of him. “How do you even know he’ll say something?”
“He will.”
So much threat and danger in so few words. So much pain in his need of truth. It was for that sorrow that she dared to rest a hand on his folded arms, and stroke the short hair on his temple with the other.
He didn’t acknowledge her or the sweetness of her touch, as if she was nothing more than breeze. Without a word he moved away, and gathered what he needed to clean his gun.
Something cracked inside Ann’s heart. He was so far away, so impenetrable, lost into his sad fury. More than alone, because he didn’t know how to share what was weighing on him.
His next words dispelled her compassion like a blaze of the sun over morning mist.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to the closest FBI quarters as I go get him.”
Ann breathed, then again, to tone down the temper bubbling up in her chest. It didn’t help.
“You stubborn elephant,” she fumed, marching over to stand in front of him, fists on her hips and chin high. She was too mad to fully appreciate the surprise on his face.
“Did you just call me an elephant?”
“Of course I did!” She snatched the small, grease-smeared rag from his hand. “You don’t get it, do you? Let me break it down for you, then: wherever your despotic ass goes, so does mine.”
“Don’t push me now, Ann.”
“I’m not done, so shut up!”
The grinding sound she was hearing could very well have been his teeth, but it didn’t impress her. “Do you really think I’m safer with the FBI?”
“I know it.”
“Think again,” she bit out. “I might be safer, but what if they take you? For as much as you plan to Rambo into their headquarters and win everything, you can get caught. If they do catch you, they only have to knock at my door, and I’d follow.”
“No, you would not.”
The air cracked when she hit the table with the cloth in her hand. “The hell I won’t. I didn’t fight for Mary and I have to live with that, but I’m so fighting for you. You don’t like it? Too bad.” Big with anger and tears, her voice didn’t lose any of its strength. “I’m not going to sit somewhere doing Sudoku while you’re playing war alone. We are one, for better or worse. Now, you’re going to stop the angry loner drama and you’re going to kiss me.”
She punched away a tear with the back of her hand. “And you’re going to make love with me, because if tomorrow we go after Noxell this might be our last night, and you can be sure as hell I’m not going to waste it fighting.”
Hurling the rag on the table, she crossed her arms.
This time, when he moved, Ann didn’t inch away. She stood, watching as he towered over her with the most feral look on his face.
“I can’t afford to lose you,” he said in a burning whisper.
“And I can’t afford to love a man who doesn’t trust me, who doesn’t see me as a partner but only as a victim.”
She didn’t care what spilled out or what he’d say to it. He looked like she’d just gutted him, but she didn’t care. “It’s my last word, Mark. We can do it together, or you can say no and I’m off to Benson’s alone. And I’m out from you and me.”
Her palms sweat as she waited. All her tomorrows hung on his answer, and she had nothing else to say for her cause.
When he finally spoke, his voice was grave. “Together.”
“Good answer,” she said evenly, sitting on the table to fight the sudden vertigo of relief. She took a moment before talking, to be sure her voice would hold. “You’re fixed on Noxell, but he’s just a pawn in Benson’s game. On Mary’s phone we have enough to end it. I think it’s what they want, what they were looking for.”
“It means we’re in deeper shit,” was his only comment.
“Really?” she smiled. “Because I see it as leverage.”
“You don’t negotiate with that kind of people.”
She nodded. “I thought as much. Maybe leverage’s not the right word. Let’s use shield, instead.”
Mark’s frown was weary. “Keep going.”
“It can protect us both, in case they get their hands on us.”
“How?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Here’s where your super training kicks in and saves the day. If we hide it–”
“Then they can kill or take one of us and force the info from the other. We need to hide it, all right, but we both need to have something the other doesn’t have.” The shadow of a smile eased his eyes for an instant. “We need to be two halves of one.”
Everything disappeared for a moment, everything but a warm glow in Ann’s chest. She couldn’t dwell on it for long as he started to pace, a deep frown on his face.
He stopped in the middle of the room, turned around to face her. “A deposit box.”
“We can use your fake ID – no offense but it’s better than mine. I’ll choose the combination or password or whatever.” She hurried to him. “We look for Noxell and your answers and if they get us, they can’t kill either.”
“It’s weak, but it’ll buy us some time. When you have to escape, time’s gold and diamonds.”
“Do you think they’ll get us?”
“It’s a fat chance. We need to get close to see what’s going on at Benson’s before I can take Noxell down. We have nothing but a car and our faces.” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you there, Ann.”
She didn’t even pretend to hear or care about his last statement. “We have a plan!”
Defeated, Mark retrieved the cloth, and sat down to resume his gun-cleaning job.
He wasn’t sure what they had qualified as a plan. It was a far cry from the perfect strategies he drew with his boys: inch-detailed maps and technology from Mouse. Falcon’s sharp, cold aim watching his back and Snake’s muscles and perfect getaways. His boys. His brothers, and the fatherly hand of the Boss, always there to guide and help.
Mouse’s words, his blind faith in him screamed in Mark’s brain, branding his conscience with guilt. The boy had never known the way war bonds men and yet he knew, he understood that Mark would put his own life at stake for them.
Mark had always thought they would do the same. Could he have been so wrong in all these years? Or had that trust killed them, as it killed Mouse?
Something fell with a soft thump.
He barely glanced at Ann’s blue top at his feet, she was probably getting ready to bed.
Good, she’ll need all the rest she could get for what we're were going to hunt tomorrow.
She’d said she loved him.
Mark forced his attention elsewhere. Why hadn't anybody attacked? It didn’t matter that he’d never seen anybody tailing them. Those people might just be this good, or they were waiting for Ann to find the phone. Now she had it, and all was still quiet. It made him edgy.
She’d said she loved him.
God, what if he loved her, too?
Her cut-offs pooled over the floor. It compromised his focus, but he managed to keep it on their problems.
Ann was right, they didn’t have to face what was coming alone, but–.
A blue bra landed on the gun i
n his hands, shortly followed by a pair of panties.
He raised his eyes.
She was standing in front of him, naked. “I was serious about you kissing me and making love.”
Too surprised, suddenly too hungry to talk, he watched as she took his hand. He didn’t resist her lead, didn’t think of the danger, of his gun, useless, in pieces on the table.
Her small, clever hands freed him from his clothes; her hot, wicked mouth freed him from his control.
He followed her to the bed as if in a dream. There, reality undid him with its searing need to touch, to taste, to feel her running wild, deep beneath his skin, deep until she was the truest part of himself. Beyond the cage of his body, beyond the cage of his fears, she was a dot of light calling for him with too much power.
He loved her with the sweet desperation of the last night together, with the terrible hope of the future.
And when their bodies lay in the dark, sated, he wrapped her in his arms and slept.
* * * * *
“A post office?” Ann asked as he parked. “Really?”
“Security cameras, lots of people and a police station across the street.” Mark gave her the phone. “Let’s go.”
Waiting in line, Ann wondered if she was ever going to feel secure in a crowd again.
Cold sweat and a swing of panic rushed through her when something hard and pointy poked her in the back. Her breathing stopped and started over when she turned around to face an old woman with a box in her arms. As she smiled apologetically, Ann had to pull her lips into a fake grin, snuggled closer Mark’s side.
When, after what felt like hours, it was their turn, Mark gave his ID to an eager boy behind the counter and asked for a safe box with a numerical combination, not a key.
Mark left her in front of a bronzed wall made of boxes of different sizes. She chose one randomly, set a combination and went back to him.
Guns For Angels Page 15
