Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2)

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Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2) Page 24

by Kris Michaels


  "One sided love doesn't work, sweetheart. He has to be as committed as you are for a relationship to last."

  "I know. But when we started to see each other I told him it was temporary. He's only here for a few weeks longer. He has to go back to work."

  "Well, that was stupid. Where does he work?"

  "I don't know, Nevada, I think." She laughed again and wiped away another tear. "You call it like you see it, don't you?"

  "Yes, and I taught you to do the same. Tell the man how you feel."

  "It isn't that easy. What if he..."

  "Imagining obstacles and stewing in doubt will get you exactly nowhere. Take it from an old woman. Don't let him leave without telling him how you feel. You're stronger than this. Are you sure you're okay?"

  "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little emotional. It must be the meds?"

  "Meds? Poet Marie Campbell what kind of meds are you on?"

  Shit. "Ahh... something for infection and over the counter pain relievers." She glanced at the IV in her hand and shrugged. Okay, so not so over the counter. "Either that or it’s the lack of sleep." She squinted one eye closed and stared at her phone, hoping her mom would buy it.

  "Yeah, don't you think for a second that I believed either one of those excuses."

  "How's Dad?"

  "Changing the subject?"

  "I'm attempting to do that, yes." She nodded her head at the phone as she talked.

  "Fine, but only because you sound so much better than the last time we spoke. Well, your father is as stubborn as you and your brother. He is doing better on the greens, however he is horrible driving down those fairways..."

  She leaned back on the pillow and listened to her mom regale her about her father's swing. According to her mother, he had none.

  "Thanks for watching our girl. I'm going to sit with her for a while. You can grab a drink or a bathroom break if you need it."

  The officer smiled. "Perfect. I'll be about twenty minutes or so. I need to stretch my legs. The Doc let me grab some food earlier. He'll be gone for a half hour or so. He usually stretches his legs about this time."

  "I'll see him when he gets back. Go ahead, take your time."

  "Thanks again, and listen, I'm sorry about your deputy. She's been knocked around pretty hard."

  "We'll find the son of a bitch responsible. He'll pay for his actions."

  "Thanks, Sheriff. I'll pop my head in when I get back."

  "That works."

  He watched the officer stroll down the hall and moved into the darkened room. She was pale against the white sheets. Her hair around her shoulders was dark in the dim light of the room. The arm he'd broken was wrapped in gauze, but not yet cast. He smiled and recalled her scream. It was... magnificent. He'd give anything to finish his performance with her. It was a far better demonstration than the drugs and alcohol poisoning had been, but then he didn't pick the means of death, he only did as his audience requested.

  He slid his hand into his leather gloves and then withdrew the small black case from his pocket. He extracted the syringe of high-test heroine. "Too bad I won't hear you beg for mercy." He placed the needle in the IV port and depressed the plunger, opening the drip until the heroine fed into the tubing and then closed it to the same position it had been in.

  Maliki watched on the closed circuit monitor two rooms down the hall. The motherfucking bastard. "This is recording, right?"

  "Yes." The technician Guardian had sent down from D.C. confirmed it again. "Redundancy is running, too. Damn, look at that." The tech pointed to the screen as the sheriff pushed the syringe into the IV.

  "Wait for it." A sneer lifted Maliki's lip. A man dressed in black walked up behind the fucker. A glint of steel flashed. Mal bolted from the room, and the cop that had left the door moments ago followed him.

  He flicked on the lights and rushed to Poet's side. Joseph held a wicked looking knife at Jim Watson's throat. The man's eyes bulged; his face was so red it was tinged with purple. The sheriff dropped the syringe. "He was trying to kill her! I stopped him!”

  Poet sat up carefully, moving as far away from Watson as she could get. Mal gently gathered her toward him, wrapping her in his arms.

  A low hiss of words rolled from Joseph. "Too bad I won't hear you beg for mercy."

  Watson roared, "He's the one! He tried to kill her!"

  Mal shook his head and sneered before he informed Watson of the sting. "We have everything recorded, Sheriff."

  "No! I didn't do it! He did it! I stopped him at the house! I stopped him here!" Spittle hung from the corner of his mouth and his chest heaved, but he didn't move a muscle. "Poet, tell them! Tell them I saved you!"

  Mal tore his eyes from Watson. "Joseph, his left pec."

  Joseph's knife dug and lifted. The sheriff rose to his toes as Joseph ripped open the front of the man's shirt and exposed a weeping, infected bite mark.

  "It was you. You took me, you beat me, and you killed the man who tried to save me." Poet's voice was low and quiet. "You killed those women because you wanted to."

  "No! It was him! Can't you see? He did it! He did it!" The man wailed and his voice morphed into a high-pitched, hysterical, laugh.

  "Cuff him." Joseph held his knife precariously on the sheriff’s throat while the deputy slapped the handcuffs on him in record time. When he removed his knife there was a thin red line that oozed several drops of blood. Damn, that fucker had to be sharper than a razor.

  "I saved them! I made it right! He killed them." The sheriff's shouts brought a crowd of medical workers from various rooms. Four Guardian operatives split the crowd like Moses splitting the Red Sea and sauntered down the hall toward the room. Two men he recognized from The Rose grabbed Watson, and one of them helped the officer escort the shrieking man from the hospital to the waiting Guardian vehicle. He was in federal custody now and wasn't going anywhere

  "Are you okay?" He dropped a kiss to Poet's forehead. She was pale, but steady.

  "Yeah. Here, you'll need this." She produced a bag from under the cover. It was attached to the IV, not her, and held whatever Watson had pushed through the port. The second man placed the bag and the syringe that had fallen to the floor into separate bags. "Tech is set up where?" The man asked quietly. Mal directed him, and he exited the room.

  She looked over at Joseph who was wiping his knife on the back of his leg, any blood on the steel would be hidden by his black fatigues. "Thank you. I didn't hear you come into the room."

  "Poet, this is Joseph."

  "Ah, the one on the phone. How did you open the door without alerting him? It's so noisy in the hall." She leaned against Mal, and he felt her relax

  "I've been in your room since your nap this afternoon." He nodded to the closet door that stood ajar. "We had a tracker on Watson, and saw he left town this morning. When my men informed me of his movement, I assumed my position." Joseph shrugged as if staying motionless in a confined space for over six hours was nothing.

  Her brow furrowed, and she angled her head when she asked, "You've been in there? Since… when?"

  "About one. You were sleeping when I arrived. I didn't want to disturb you."

  "How did you get in? The officer outside the door, did he know?"

  Mal said, "No, I relieved him so he could take a break, then there was shift change at about three and the new officer was in place. We suspected Watson was going to try to get to you because of the heroin Guardian’s ME found in Shauna's blood. Watson's lawyers had stopped us from questioning him, but Watson knew Asher left the area.”

  “How?” Poet bounced her gaze between Joseph and him.

  “Because Asher went to the station and told Watson he'd be back. He told the sheriff you were starting to remember what happened. He put you on the hook as our bait. Watson's world was back to the status quo, except for one thing. You." He ran his fingers up Poet's back and gently massaged her neck.

  "Right, you explained most of that when we organized the little operation this afternoon, bu
t..." She blinked at him. "You knew he was in here, and you didn't tell me?"

  "I did know, and no, I didn't tell you. You're one of the bravest women I've ever met. You agreed to be the worm on our hook for this operation, but I wasn't going to let that maniac in your room without someone here. Joseph would have stopped him if he'd tried anything else."

  She lifted the sheet and gripped the ass end of her nine mil. "He'd be dead twice, then." She turned and stared at Joseph. "So, you heard my conversation on the phone today?"

  Joseph crossed his arms over his chest. "Nope. Couldn't hear shit in there."

  Joseph and Poet both glanced at the closet—the closet that had wide mesh ventilation inserts at the bottom and the top.

  Mal narrowed his eyes. "Why? What conversation?"

  "Nothing." Poet and Joseph spoke at the same time. He stared at both of them and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

  "Damn, Doc, someone told me you were on vacation. Remind me never to share a condo on the beach with you." Dan Collins filled the awkward silence.

  Mal sent Joseph one more side-eyed glance, which was met with a sneer, before he smiled at Dan. "See you got paired up."

  "Meh, who knew that asshole would pair me up with this guy." Dan threw his head toward a man Doc recognized. The one who communicated with sign language. "Sage Browning, this is Doc Blue."

  "We've met in passing." Mal extended his hand. "Good to see you again."

  The man nodded and smiled.

  "This is Deputy Poet Campbell. She's the one who cracked this case."

  "I didn't." Poet chuckled and smiled at Dan and Sage. "Nice to meet you."

  "Don't sell yourself short." Joseph headed to the door. He stopped at the door and turned around. "And for the record. I agree with your mother." He slipped out, and Dan and Sage left in his wake.

  Poet pointed at the place where Dan had stood. "Doesn't he look like that guy from the movies––"

  "He gets that all the time, but he's not. Now, why would Joseph agree with your mother?"

  "Long story." Poet sighed and lifted the sheet and white blanket up over her legs.

  He helped her lie back down on the bed and removed the fake IV cannula from the top of her hand. Her weapon went on the bedside stand, and he picked up a small clear plastic cup with two pills in it. "Take these now. You've got to be hurting."

  "I am." She tossed back the pills and took a drink of the water he provided.

  He tugged her covers up and tucked her in before he sat beside her on the bed. He grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over it. "Care to let me in on the secret now?"

  She smiled and shook her head. "It was some motherly advice. Joseph heard it. Obviously."

  "And what did your mom advise you to do?" He pushed her hair away from her face, and she leaned her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes for a moment.

  When she opened them, she said quietly, "She told me to make sure you knew how I felt about you."

  His heart beat so hard she had to have heard the pounding from where she lay. "How do you feel about me?"

  "I don't want this to end."

  "This? Us?" He released a shaky breath. "I can't stay here. I've been honest."

  "I'm not asking you to do that." She grabbed his hand. "I know it's only been a couple weeks. I'm not asking a lifetime commitment, but I want to see where this goes. If you don't, please tell me now. We've been through a lot. I’ll understand if you don’t think we’ll work."

  He took her hand in his and stared at her, gathering in her strength and beauty. The bruising had diminished, but was still there, a yellowish blue hue spotting her face. "Yeah we have been through some shit, haven’t we? I want to see where this goes. I need to see where this attraction will lead us, but..."

  "But?" Her eyes, huge pools of blue, stared up at him.

  "My career path is in transition right now. It could be a while before I know what I'm going to do, or where I'm going to be when I do it." He licked his lips and drew a deep breath. His hands were trembling, but he forced himself to be honest. "It could mean you moving closer to where I am. Giving up your job." He held up a hand to stop her from speaking. God, he had to get this out, for her to have all the information. "I know that is a shit thing to ask. You've built seniority here. You've got a life here, but I can't come back to Paintville. I'll visit because my parents are here, but I couldn't live here. The closest work to this county Guardian could offer me would be in D.C. And that would only happen if they could find a position for me there. If we’re trying to see how we fit, being apart, even that limited distance, isn't going to work for me."

  She blinked several times and then shrugged. "Do you think Guardian has any employment opportunities?"

  "What?"

  "I've never looked at their website. Would I be someone they'd look at? I mean, I've got my basic law enforcement certificate. Years of on the job experience. I'm prior military. I have an excellent work record, and I’m a team player… well, minus calling Guardian on my serial-killer boss. But, I'm sure a recommendation from you probably wouldn't hurt. If I worked for Guardian, maybe I could be co-located with you. Unless they have a policy against that?"

  A fucking shiver went down his spine. She was committed enough to move to be close to him. He smiled. "No, no policy that I'm aware of."

  "So?" She reached up and urged him down to her lips. "Are we doing this?"

  He sipped at those lips and took a long deep drink before he slowed and then stopped the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers. They had undeniable chemistry. He liked her, hell, he cared for her, deeply. If she hadn't asked him, he'd have initiated the conversation. Everything felt right. Everything.

  He stood, turned and rubbed the back of his neck. He drew a deep breath. "I’m in. Under one condition." He kept his back to her, the smile that split his face hurt it was so fucking wide.

  "What?"

  The trepidation in her voice spun him around. "You have to teach me how to play Super Donkey Mario Kong."

  She closed her eyes and laughed. "Deal, but when you figure it out, I'm going to show you no mercy."

  He leaned over her hospital bed and kissed her. "I look forward to that challenge."

  Chapter 20

  Poet's hand rubbed up and down his back. He didn't hear the minister's words or recognize most of the people in attendance. His father's casket lowered into the ground, and he and his mother stood and threw in the first handfuls of dirt. Neither cried. There were no more tears. He escorted his mother and Poet from the family graveyard to the waiting limo. They were going to the house, for a reception.

  "It was the way he wanted to go," his mother said while looking through the window. "He hated the dementia. It terrified him."

  A massive stroke took him three weeks after Poet was released from the hospital. Mal and Poet had stayed in the mansion the entire time. His mother doted on Poet, and he spent every morning with his father. They'd mended the damage that existed between them. Years of regrets still existed, at least for him.

  "He told me the day before he died that he was so proud of you." She chuckled and shook her head. "Then he said you needed to shave that damn beard, or no one would take you seriously. Your father, ever the control freak."

  "Surgeons tend to be that way," Poet said and patted his hand in a condescending fashion.

  His mother chuckled again. "I'll miss him. He was my friend." Tears shimmered in her eyes. "We never had what you two have. That spark, the connection. Never let anything come between you two. Obligations, status, expectations of others, all of it is worthless drivel."

  "What are you going to do now, Mother?"

  "Oh, I'll continue living here. The Boswell fortune flows to you, but if you'll allow it, I'll keep the house here."

  "I want you to have it. It's your home." He'd make damn sure it was maintained and guarded to keep her safe as she aged.

  "Of course, someday, my grandchildren could visit me."

  He cut a quic
k look at Poet who smiled and then laughed. "Catherine, I believe you're putting the cart before the horse."

  "Oh?"

  "We should probably get married before you plan grandchildren." Poet squeezed his hand at his comment.

  "True." His mother turned her stare to him. "When can I expect that?"

  "Mother," he warned, and she smiled impishly at him.

  "I'll wait, but not for long." She turned and looked through the limo's window again.

  Poet chuckled and dropped her head onto his shoulder. She'd physically recovered from the abduction. Her arm had three more weeks in the cast. Nightmares weren't frequent, but when she did have them, they were hard to shake after he woke her. He understood that, hell, after losing his team, he'd dealt with nightmares, too.

  "Before we get to the house and I have to act as hostess, when will you be leaving?"

  "I'm not sure, Mom. I'll need to settle the estate, and then I need to meet with my employers. I have to make several decisions. Why?"

  "I've been thinking of taking a cruise. I want to live here for the rest of my life, but the last few years have been hard. I thought a vacation may be in order."

  "Will Richard accompany you?" The idea of his mother in the middle of the ocean alone bothered him. Not that Richard made him feel much better...

  "No. I'm afraid Richard had the wrong idea about our relationship. He assumed I'd be moving in with him. No, I'm not marrying or sharing my home with anyone except grandchildren. I have a friend, Alexandria, you've met her before. Her family is in plastics. She recently lost her husband, and she's scheduled a trip. I'd like to go with her and take Lucinda. Sweet Lucinda wouldn't have much to do to look after me, but she's been so good to me, I thought the cruise would be a nice way to say thank you."

  "It sounds like a wonderful time. By all means, go with Alexandria and Lucinda. We can stay in D.C."

  "You wouldn't mind?"

  He shook his head. As a matter of fact, he'd prefer it. "Not at all."

  "Wonderful. We'd leave in ten days."

  "I meet with Father's lawyers tomorrow. If Poet is up to it, we can head to D.C. on the weekend, and we'll let you close up the house."

 

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