Why (Stalker Series Book 2)

by Megan Mitcham

  Lib nodded. “I have to catch a flight in …” She assessed her watch. “Sixteen minutes. I promised that if I didn’t get back to see you before I left, I’d accidentally on purpose place him on the sex offenders’ registry.”

  “Can you do that?” Mar awed.

  “Nope, but he doesn’t know it.” Libby winked.

  “Where are you going?” Gen realized how long it’d been since she’d really talk to any of them.

  “A remote cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

  Gen’s heart skipped. “You found him.”

  “Fuck, I hope so.” Libby sighed. “If not, I’ll have spent a ton of federal money and resources on a dead-end and probably lose my job or, at the very least, get demoted to the internet fraud department.”

  “You know you found him.” Larkin grinned.

  “I know.” Libby flashed her teeth in a sinister grin. “And I’m running point.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” Gen reached a hand toward her friend.

  “I’m so happy to see you and know you’re still in there.” Libby wrapped her warm hand around Gen’s chilled one.

  “Every sassy bone except one. That asshole cracked my orbital bone. I don’t know how sassy it is right now.” Gen wiggled her eye and wished she hadn’t. “How bad does it look?”

  “Like you went rounds with the devil himself and lived to tell about it.” Libby kissed her hand and pressed her cheek to the back of it. “You know I’m here whenever you need to talk about the bad stuff. I can take it.”

  “I might be ready after you go get the bad guy.” Gen squeezed her hand and then released her. “Now, go. You’re already going to miss your flight.”

  “Douglas is flying me to Quantico, but I do have to go.” Tears filled her friend’s eyes.

  “I’ll be here, and Perry will be behind bars,” Gen promised.

  “Hell, yeah.” Libby hugged the girls and left the small room.

  Her exit left them in a vacuum. When Larkin and Marlis left, and they would have to leave soon, she’d be forced to deal with the aftermath of the past two days. Yes, the bad guy lost, but the not so good girl lost too. She’d lost big time.

  “He called Douglas the second Janney reported you missing,” Marlis said.

  “He?” Gen asked because she didn’t want to make any more assumptions. She’d assumed that he would have wanted to know how she felt. She’d assumed that he would have wanted to comfort her after the hell she’d been through. She’d thought he’d have forgiven the horrible way she’d acted toward him. Nope. Nope. Nope.

  “You know exactly who,” Larkin chided. “Douglas said he’d never seen a man more determined to find someone.”

  “He’s a helper. It’s what he does.” Gen shook her head and instantly regretted it. Her brain throbbed so much that she thought it was about to force her eyes from their sockets.

  “Owen might be a great police officer, but he’s not going to break laws and work for, what are we at, sixty plus hours straight for just anyone.” Larkin smiled. “I know from experience that only the ones who love you will do those things for you.”

  Where was her rule-breaking champion now? He wasn’t in the room, and he was a badass with a badge.

  “He’s been by to check on you twice,” Marlis offered.

  “Am I that transparent?” Gen closed her eyes and stilled the negativity. She was alive. There was no room for negativity. How ungrateful.

  Larkin eased onto the edge of the bed. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “Tell me about Morocco.” She blinked the moisture from her sore eyes.

  “I’m going to go out and see if I can trade my spot with Janney before she actually castrates the nurse.” Marlis scooted around to the left side of the bed and pecked Gen’s cheek.

  “Thank you, Mar.”

  “Thank you for fighting. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” She kissed her again and then left the room.

  “Morocco,” Gen demanded.

  “It was the best, craziest trip I’ve ever experienced.”

  “And you’ve been on a ton of great trips.”

  “Right.” Larkin waggled her brows. “We got to Temara and spent one hot—melt your toes off—night and day in an exotic villa on the beach. Then we traveled at sunset blindfolded. Me, not him.”

  “What?”

  The door to the small sterile room opened. Her nurse’s curly blond head of hair preceded his scowl that despite its intent was the sweetest she’d seen. “Miss Holst, your friend needs to leave. Visiting hours for actual family members are over.”

  “Chuck, if you want her to go, and you want to maintain your clean record, I suggest you leave and let her finish her story.”

  “Hold that over me. Fine!” He threw his hands in the air. “I have morphine to hold over you.”

  “Now, Chuck.” Larkin threw a small stack of puke pans at him. “Don’t get mean. My friend has had quite a traumatic experience, and she needs her friends. We are her family.”

  “She’s right.” Gen shooed him out with her IV free hand.

  Lucky for him, he listened.

  “Back to the blindfold,” Larkin huffed.

  “I’ve never been blindfolded out of the bedroom. Was it scary?”

  “No. It was pretty hot out of the bedroom, actually.”

  “Hmm.” She pressed her sore lips together. “Something to try post-recovery.”

  “We arrived at some kind of makeshift headquarters in the middle of Rabat, the capital. There were men everywhere with machine guns, grenades, and knives strapped to tactical clothes. Women too. There were two of them who made me want to crawl into a corner they were so badass, but they were so nice too. Everyone was.”

  “Who were they?” Gen begged.

  “Uh, can’t say, other than Beckett is one of them, he looks too good in battle gear, and they’ve tried to recruit Owen for their team. Though, team is a mild word for what they are.”

  Gen just stared at her, shocked not to have the most interesting story in the room. She probably still had the most horrifying one. Woo, yay for her.

  “They geared up, and Beckett stuffed me in the back of a Humvee with a vest and helmet. No one else needed a helmet.” Larkin threw her hands up as though that was the most distressing part of the whole scenario. “Anyway, we rolled out in the dark, four military grade vehicles loaded with weapons and warriors. We got to an airstrip outside the city, and they surrounded the place.”

  Larkin clutched Gen’s knee. “I should have been scared, but I was so excited. With Beckett, with all of them, I felt safe.”

  Just knowing Perry was in custody made Gen feel safer than she’d felt ever. Maybe it had something to do with the whole forgiving herself bull too. She wasn’t quite ready to delve into those emotions.

  “They ordered me to stay put, and then they were off, kicking in doors and lining people up on the ground with their hands behind their heads. Then Beckett brought him out with a bloody nose and tears on his cheeks.”

  “Bronson?”

  Larkin nodded. “Bronson Beauregard.” Her smile was so wide. “They extradited him to Africa where he’s facing genocide charges and so much more. His accounts have been frozen as well as the family’s business accounts since it was financed with corrupt money.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Gen grinned, despite the pain it caused.

  “We’ve captured the bad guys.” Larkin grabbed both her hands.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “They can’t hurt us or the people we love ever again.”

  “No, they can’t.” Gen squeezed her hands.

  “Best of all, we get our sassy, slightly slutty—no shame—redhead back.” Larkin shook a triumphant fist in the air.

  Gen released her friend’s other hand, placed both of hers on her lap, and let out a shuddered breath. Lord, her chest ached. “Well, Larkin, on top of the brain swelling and bruised lungs, the doctors told me I’ve caught a terrible disease.”
<
br />   “Oh God, Gen! What?”

  “Monogamy.”

  “You little shit.” Larkin’s laughter filled the room.

  Thirty-Four

  Gen woke reaching for the lovely little morphine button the nurse had given her after running out Larkin and Janney and after getting the okay from her neurologist. Christ, she had a neurologist. Fuck, she was in the ICU. At least she wasn’t in the morgue. Though, the simple current of blood through her veins wouldn’t hurt if she were dead. She shifted farther back in search of the drip.

  The unmistakable warmth of the human form cupped her from head to butt to toes. Between the irritating beeps of her monitor, the soft, long breaths of deep sleep tickled her ear. Owen’s scent permeated the room, vanquishing the antiseptic stench with virile masculinity. She’d only met this man seven months ago. They’d only had sex for one amazing night, yet she’d been more intimate with him than she’d ever allowed herself to be.

  It was foreign. It was terrifying. It was right.

  She skipped the morphine, opting for his hand. It was warm and limp until she placed hers inside it and pulled it to her chest. His thick fingers curled around to her palm. He gently pulled her closer. She snuggled into his protective frame. Something inside her uncoiled. The thrashing in her brain eased with each passing heartbeat. As she slipped back into sleep, she realized that he provided more comfort than any illicit drug. She’d tried more than a few in her day. They’d all been easy to quit, but she knew Owen Graham wouldn’t be.

  When she woke again, her warmth and comfort had vanished, and a chill washed over her. Aches in places she hadn’t realized existed burned with new fury. Her lids shot wide in search of her favorite drug, but he was nowhere to be found. The morphine drip was in the clutches of her death grip. She depressed it several times, releasing its allotted amount into her system, but it wasn’t enough.

  The small, unfeeling room seemed more vacant now than it had when she’d first come to after having been rendered chemically unconscious for the helicopter ride. They’d said she’d been frantic, trying to find someone. And here she was again, searching. There weren’t many places he could hide in a hospital room.

  She gave up before she started screaming for him like the maniac she was and pulled the covers over her face to block out the unyielding fluorescents. The covers smelled of him. Her eyes closed. She’d made her bed, and she had to lie in it until they discharged her. Then Owen wouldn’t be able to get rid of her. Not without a court order. Judging by his presence in the night, he wouldn’t go that far. It was up to her to show him how much he meant to her by opening—not her legs—but her heart and mind.

  Her heart lurched, and her palms slicked with sweat. This love business wasn’t easy.

  The door clicked open.

  “I need to be discharged today. Oh, and the morphine has to go with me.”

  “If you leave, who’ll play tic-tac-toe with me?”

  Gen pulled the blanket from her face to see Owen shove the door closed with his foot. His boots, jeans, and T-shirt had been traded for a blue suit with pinstripes, a crisp white shirt, and sharp leather shoes. He set one of the two coffee cups he carried on the bedside table and then plopped the legal pad he’d stuffed under his arm onto it as well.

  “You think you’re up for it, French pressed, dark roast?” Owen teetered the cup in his hand. “After she lost our arm wrestle, the doctor said you can have one cup, but she didn’t budge on outside food just yet. I think she was hungry.” He shrugged. “The double breakfast I just gave her makes up for threatening to arrest her for obstruction and throw her into a holding cell with sex traffickers last night. Right?”

  “I’d call it even.” Gen reached for the liquid gold he offered. He placed the cup in the fold of her hands and encased them in his own grip. “Thank you.”

  “The doctor should start rounds as soon as she finishes, but there’s no way you’re leaving the ICU until tomorrow, and that’s assuming all your scans come back clear.”

  Gen drew the cup to her lips and sipped gingerly. The hot liquid charred its way down her ragged esophagus. It hurt like the devil. At the same time, it gave her a sense of security and familiarity she needed more than she needed the pain to go away. Pain tempered with a bit of morphine let her know she was alive. For Owen, she’d live through anything.

  “You good?”

  “Damn near perfect.” It wasn’t a lie.

  Owen took a step back and drew a deep breath. “We had a press conference announcing Perry’s arrest for the murder of Millie Bradberry and your kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder with more charges pending. As soon as the computer tech gets finished with his and Millie’s computers, we’ll get him on collusion and extortion. I was executing warrants on the three properties he purchased through the shell corporation yesterday. Last night, I executed one on his home in the city, as well as his mother’s home. There was a Jaguar with a crushed front end in the garage. By tomorrow or the next day, we’ll have enough evidence to arrest him for the Renly double murder.”

  Why was he info dumping? Sure, this was all information she liked knowing, but right now, the most important thing was letting him know how she felt. “Owen.”

  “You’re never going to believe this.” He held up two hands. “We’re hours away from arresting his mother on murder charges.”

  “What?” Gen jerked forward. Everything pulsed with agony. Her head raged. Her ribs, wrists, and ankles throbbed. Hell, even her fingernails ached. A breath hissed through her teeth.

  “Easy.” Owen rushed to her side. He reached out to steady her but stalled as if not knowing where to touch her. There weren’t many places that didn’t hurt. He grimaced.

  “I’m okay. I just got carried away.” Her eyes did the pleading that her throat couldn’t manage while dealing with everything else.

  “We found a bottle of arsenic and a recipe for a laced rum runner in Beena Carter’s closet. Along with a stack of photos of Perry Carter Sr. in the naked embrace of another woman. The judge okayed the exhumation of Carter Sr. this morning, and a crew has been working since eight.”

  She glanced at the clock and saw that it was half past nine.

  “It seems raging jealousy runs in the family.”

  “More like narcissism and psychopathy,” she corrected.

  “Smarty-pants.” His thumb soothed a path over the hairline above her right eye. His jaw clenched, and his head shook.

  “Looks that good, does it?”

  His touch withdrew, and he stepped back. The all-too-familiar crinkle of plastic sounded a moment before he pulled a pack of peanuts from his back pocket. He ripped the top open, poured half the contents into his palm, and tossed them inside his mouth.

  They had so much to talk about. Well, she had so much she wanted to talk about with him. It seemed he wasn’t ready to tackle it.

  He finished the package and threw the plastic into the small garbage can near the sink. The silence with him in the room was worse than being trapped in that closet all alone. His long legs stretched into a slow pace back and forth from one side of the tiny room to the other. As he walked, his thick fingers worked into two solid fists.

  When he started the sixth lap, she broke.

  “Owen?” Her voice sounded as though it’d been shattered and glued back together. In so many ways, it had.

  “Why’d you make me stop?” His steps ceased, but he still didn’t look at her. He hung his head low. “I would have killed him.” Breaths heaved in and out of his chest. “I wanted to. I still do.” Slowly, he approached the foot of her bed. “If I’d killed him, it would have been over. He never could have hurt you again. He could never get off on a technicality or the strength of his attorney.”

  “You’re not a killer.”

  “I would have been.” He nodded. His bright blue eyes looked more vibrant and fiercer than she’d ever seen.

  “And I’d never ask you to do that.”

  “You’d never have to as
k.”

  “I love you, Owen.” His lips parted, but she lifted her hand. “You might not want to hear it, and you might not feel the same way I do anymore, but that’s okay. Because of you, I’m here. Because of you, I can face Perry in court. I can banish him to a lifetime of hell, and I will with your help.”

  He rounded the bed and grabbed her hand. Angry purple and black bruises stained his knuckles. Blood dried and created scabs atop two. Her heart clenched.

  “You’re on my team, now?”

  “I’m on your team.” She wanted to tell him that she was on his team and wanted to stay there forever, but that was a lot to throw at him. She’d already tossed the L-word around twice, and the first reception hadn’t been great.

  “For how long?” he asked.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “For what?” His brow hiked.

  “For you to love me.”

  He sat on her bed and pulled her other hand into his. Every one of his knuckles boasted a scrape, bruise, or cut. She squeezed his hands tight but wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

  “I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me when you were at that house.”

  “No kidding.”

  His cheeks balled, and a smile stretched his lips. At the same time, moisture gathered in his bright eyes. “I thought it meant you were accepting your fate. I thought it meant you weren’t going to fight.” He dropped his head into their joined hands and pressed his face into her belly. A ragged breath shook his frame.

  “I’m not a fighter.” She hugged his face in her hands. “But loving you meant that I would fight as long as it took.”

  Owen straightened and wrapped her in his arms. Everything hurt, but he was the drug she craved like none other. “God, Genevieve, I love you more than anything or anyone ever.” His lips brushed her neck, her cheek, and her lips in the sweetest kisses. He levered back and found her gaze. “Does this mean you’re not on my team now?”

  She grinned at the man she loved. “It means I’m on your team forever.”