Castle Investigations Box Set

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Maggie didn't think. She just started running in that direction.

  Oh God, no. Not Brady. Not Sully. The rest of the guys. She couldn't fathom the possibility that they weren't all right.

  She ran with all that was in her, crossing the street with barely a glance in either direction. As it was well into the middle of the night, there wasn't any traffic. Racing across the deck to the wharf, she went in the direction of the fire billowing into the sky. Sirens sounded in the distance, and a few patrons from nearby bars had started to come out to see what was going on.

  Passing several slips, Maggie stopped to get her bearings and saw the one where Anthony's boat was parked, which Zach had pointed out earlier that evening.

  Just as she started moving again, strong hands gripped her arms and pulled her up against a hard chest. The smell of coffee and tooth decay filled her nostrils as heavy breathing poured against the back of her neck.

  She wriggled, trying to get free, but the man behind her placed a blade to her throat. She realized that there weren't enough people around to garner any attention, as all eyes were riveted to the burning boat at the end of the dock.

  "You scream—I'll slit your throat, and you'll never see your son again."

  Maggie kept her mouth closed as the man pushed her back the way she'd run, past the people who might help her and into the dark of the street. A black sedan sat parked on the side of the road, its lights on.

  The man released her enough to open the door of the sedan, and Maggie took advantage of the opportunity. She ripped her arm free and took off at a run.

  She heard the guy's muttered curse, and the slamming of not just one door, but two. Running for her life, she went in the direction of the van, hoping she could reach it in time to lock herself in and take off to where they'd dropped the guys in the water earlier.

  Tears of fear—for her own safety and that of her son, Sully, and his team—stung her eyes. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the two thugs running after her. They were close. Too close.

  She was never going to make it to the van in time. Slipping her phone from her pocket, she dialed Sully. Talking to him was out of the question, but she hoped that once the men caught up with her and threw her in the car, Sully would be able to hear what was going on and follow. That was, if he was even still alive.

  Maggie tucked the phone down the front of her pants, hoping that they wouldn't check there once they caught her. And she had no doubts that they would catch her. She could hear the pounding of their footsteps right behind her.

  As a last-ditch effort, she turned down an alley right before the parking lot, hoping she might find an open door she could escape into. She had just made it to the first door when a hand grabbed her braid and yanked hard.

  With a yelp, she fell hard against one of the men pursuing her. He swung her around and punched her in the face. Maggie saw stars. For years, she'd managed not to be punched, hit, or slapped—until this week. Anthony Garmoni had come back into her life, and so had the pain.

  Falling to the ground, Maggie clutched her face in her hands. She could already feel her eye swelling from the blow to her cheekbone. She didn't think he'd broken it, though. Thank goodness.

  Scrambling backwards, she tried to inch away from the man who had the eyes of someone who liked inflicting pain, especially on women.

  "You stupid bitch. I told you not to run." Spittle flew from his lips, and he flicked a switchblade open in his hand. "I may have to bring you in alive, but I can have a little fun with you first."

  Slowly, he stepped towards her, the blade outstretched. Maggie had been beaten within an inch of her life before, but she'd never been intentionally cut with a knife. She wasn't exactly looking forward to that experience now.

  Her gaze shot to the other thug behind the one with the blade, but he looked bored, his arms crossed over his chest. There wouldn't be any help there.

  "Please," she begged. "Please don't hurt me. I'll come with you. Just leave me alone."

  "Too late for that. You had to go and do it the hard way." The man bent down until his face was inches from hers. "But I like the hard way."

  He drew the blade of the knife up her arm, flaying it open and causing fire to dance across her skin. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. The bright red blood was a stark contrast against her white skin. At first, it started oozing just a little, along the top of the cut, and then it came more quickly, running down her arm. It was fascinating. Or it would have been, had it not been her blood, and had it not hurt so badly.

  The man was mesmerized by the blood, watching as it trailed down her arms and hit the pavement. He grinned at her, and Maggie noticed that several of his teeth were missing, and that what was left was a decaying mess.

  Bile rose in her throat, and she choked back the heaves that threatened to overtake her. Jerking her up from her position on the ground, the man shoved her towards the second man as they made their way back to the black sedan.

  Maggie cradled her arm in her shirt, trying to stop the bleeding. Her vision blurred, and despair felt like a close friend. They reached the sedan, and the man shoved her in the back of the car. She landed hard against the back seat, the wound in her arm pulling at the impact of her fall. She couldn't help the cry that escaped her.

  The man grinned at her as he stood over her at the car door. Then his eyes went wide just as a small hole appeared between his eyes. A shot sounded, and Maggie heard a thump as something fell against the car. She turned to the front windshield and stared into the lifeless eyes of the bored man from the alley.

  A dark figure reached out and took her hand, and Maggie kicked out as hard as she could.

  She heard an "Oomph," followed by, "Dammit Maggie, I'm trying to help you."

  She knew that voice.

  Sully.

  Chapter 19

  Sully had never felt true desperation until he listened on the phone to Maggie running for her life. He hadn't thought that they'd make it in time, and he hadn't been sure what the men who were taking her would do to her once they had her. He'd had no doubt that he and his team would find her, but he hadn't wanted her hurt.

  "It's me," he said again as he stared into the wide eyes of the woman he loved. And damn right, he loved her. The sound of her cry when that idiot had hit her, followed by her quick inhalations of breath from his doing God knows what to her after that, and then listening to her beg, had made it all too clear. He knew that the desperation he’d felt had stemmed from his deep love for this pink-haired pixie who'd gotten under his skin.

  Trust filled her eyes. "Sully?" she asked quietly.

  He nodded. "It's me, honey. Can you come out of there so that Lucas can look you over?"

  She was cradling her arm close to her chest as she crawled out of the sedan. Fire engines screamed in the distance. They were on a side street; otherwise, five men dressed in tactical gear would draw the kind of attention they weren't looking for.

  As she entered the pool of light in the alley, Sully caught sight of the bright red blood flowing down her arm.

  "Dammit. Lucas! She's been hurt."

  Maggie stumbled, the fear, shock, and pain finally getting to her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he caught her right before she fell into him.

  "Brady?" she asked, her eyes probing his, but he could tell that she was barely holding on.

  "Not there," he said quickly.

  The cry she emitted was half relief and half despair. She sounded like a wounded animal—knowing that her son was still out there with that crazy psycho, but also knowing that her son hadn't been there when the bomb had gone off.

  "I've got you, Pixie. I've got you," he whispered in her ear. Scooping her up in his arms, he turned just as Lucas got near her. Lucas checked her pupils and the cut on her arm quickly.

  "Let's get her to the van and back to the warehouse. I can't tell if that cut needs stitches. And she's in shock. But she'll be ok," Lucas said.

  Sully jogged toward the pa
rking lot, taking a back alley so that they didn't have to be on the main street. Soon, the police would start searching the area, and he wanted to be long gone before they did.

  They reached the van, and he crawled into the back with Maggie in his arms. The other guys loaded in quickly as he cradled her on the floor of the van. Zach whipped the van out of the parking lot, driving fast enough to get away, but not so fast that they'd draw attention.

  Sully winced as they hit a bump. He knew he had some burns and cuts from the burning debris that had fallen on him after the explosion. It was minor, though, compared to the pain that Maggie had to endure. Two nights in a row, he'd been too close to exploding modes of transportation. Wasn't he lucky?

  Lucas sat beside him and took Maggie's arm to look more closely at the cut, drawing a flashlight over to help him see more clearly.

  "This guy was good. He cut it deep enough to hurt and bleed like a stuck pig, but not so deep that she'll need stitches. She may have a scar, but it will be faint. I'll wrap it up good when we get to the compound. Until then, let me put this gauze around it to help staunch the bleeding," Lucas said.

  Sully adjusted Maggie in his arms. She was out. Everything that had happened that night, plus what had happened during the rest of that week—it was more than her tiny body could handle. Lucas wrapped her arm securely, and Sully could see where the blood was already seeping through.

  "We'll be home soon, boss. I'll take care of her."

  No. Sully would take care of her.

  And once they got out of this mess with The General and Anthony Garmoni, he'd take care of her for the rest of their lives.

  * * * *

  Maggie opened her eyes slowly. A pain in her arm had her hissing through her teeth. Warm hands touched her face. Sully.

  She sat up quickly, almost bumping him in the face with her head. Which would have hurt like crazy, because her head was throbbing as it was.

  "You're ok," she said, relief washing through her at the sight of his ruggedly handsome face.

  "I am. And so are you. Don't you remember anything from last night?" he asked.

  "Brady?" she asked, fear spiking her pulse.

  "I'm assuming he's fine. He wasn't there. It was a trap."

  The relief she felt was palpable. And she was grateful, too—grateful that he hadn't been on that boat and been blown to pieces—but fear consumed her as well. Where was her son?

  "What happened?" she asked, trying to control her emotions.

  "There were only three guys there when we boarded the boat. And a bomb in the master bathroom. It had a timer on there, so they had to have known when to expect us. How they knew we were on to them is another question entirely."

  "But you think that's where they held him initially?"

  "Yes. I found toys and a duffel bag of clothes. It almost looked as if they'd left in a hurry, or at least they wanted us to think that."

  "Sully, I'm so scared. What if—what if he—" Maggie couldn't finish the sentence. Sobs rocked her body as she finally let the dam break. She clung to Sully with her hands fisted in his shirt, her tears soaking his chest. Maggie wasn't sure how much time passed as she cried, but Sully held her tightly, whispering to her.

  "Shh, Pixie. He's going to be ok. We'll find him."

  She felt safe in his arms. Cherished. Loved.

  Not that Sully loved her. Or that she loved him. Did she? She shook the thought from her head. Thinking about love was not a top priority right now. She needed to find her son. They needed to find him. And soon.

  Maggie pulled away. If she didn't get a hold of her emotions now, she'd be no good at hunting down Brady's location. And she believed Sully. They would find him. Wiping the tears from her face, she glanced down at the bandages wrapped around her arm.

  "My arm?" she asked, lifting it slightly. It stung like crazy, but the pain was bearable.

  "No stitches. But the cut is deep, so you'll need to keep it wrapped up for a few days. Once it starts to scab over, you should be ok." He lightly touched her face where that man had hit her.

  "And your cheekbone is bruised but not broken. Lucas took a look at you and wrapped your arm. He also gave you some pain relievers, which is how you slept so well the last few hours."

  "What time is it?" she asked, just then noticing that light was filtering through the dim windows.

  Sully checked his phone. "Six a.m."

  "I slept most of the night," she complained, not bothering to leave the circle of his arms.

  Sully chuckled. "You needed the rest."

  "Did you sleep?" she asked him, looking up into his beautiful, crystal blue eyes.

  "A little."

  "Then what did you do while I snoozed away?"

  "Listened to you snore," he said, with his eyebrows raised and a smirk pulling up one side of his mouth.

  "I do not snore!" she said, hitting him lightly on his massive chest.

  "You do."

  She tried to pull away.

  "Watched you sleep," he said softly. The sincerity in his tone was almost her undoing. This man, this strong, hard man, looked torn in half. His hand caressed her face, pushing her hair back—adoring her. That's what he was doing. It felt amazing.

  "Maggie," he said, pronouncing her name like a prayer. Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek. He leaned in and kissed her palm. "When I heard you running for your life over the phone—when I heard that creep's words saying that he was going to hurt you—I've never felt such desperation in all my life."

  Maggie knew exactly what he meant. "I know," she said softly. "When I saw that boat go up in flames, I thought my life was over."

  "I’m so sorry that Brady wasn't there," he said. "That we weren't able to bring him back to you."

  "It wasn't just because of Brady. It was also because of you. What you've come to mean to me," she replied softly. She'd wanted to hold Brady tonight, to tell him that he would be ok and that she'd take care of him. But she'd also been terrified that Sully wouldn't return to her.

  Maggie straightened up on the bed, trying to face him as best she could. She knew she probably looked like a wreck after the night she'd had, not to mention the bruises that were coloring her face. She could also feel that her eye was swollen almost shut, but, at that moment, she didn't care.

  "What is this, Sully?" she asked, motioning between them. "What is going on?"

  Sully opened his mouth to answer when his phone buzzed on the bed between them. He glanced down, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

  Lifting the phone, he showed her the caller ID.

  Charles Kingston was calling.

  Chapter 20

  Sully jumped off his bed and paced the floor as he answered the call.

  "Castle."

  "So you're not in a million pieces at the bottom of the Potomac, then. Shame. It would make my job a lot easier."

  "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm hard to kill," Sully spat, a sneer pulling at his upper lip. He hated this man.

  "Yes, I see."

  "You should know. You've followed my every move for so many years. I would think that you'd know all there is to know about me."

  "I know that you're smitten with that pink-haired woman from the diner. Really, Castle. She's a bit below your station, isn't she?"

  "You leave Maggie out of this," Sully growled. If he so much as touched a hair on her head, he would kill Charles Kingston with his bare hands.

  "She's like a cat with nine lives, too. First a car bomb, and then an attempt to kidnap her—and somehow she escaped it all alive. You must be her good luck charm."

  "I mean it, Kingston. If you so much as lay a finger on a single hair on her head, I will kill you with my bare hands."

  "You're the one that brought her into this. But I tell you what, I'll have Garmoni return her kid, and she can start a new life for herself somewhere else. Far away from D.C. I'll even let the rest of your team off scot-free."

  "I sense an if coming," Sully said, sarcasm dripping from his v
oice.

  The general laughed. "Yes, well, it's not like I'm known for doing things out of the goodness of my heart." The General paused, then delivered the blow. "You come work for me."

  "Not going to happen."

  "I know you have that bitch there. Christy Knox. She told you, didn't she? Told you who you are."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Sully lied.

  "Of course you do. Son." Kingston delivered the title with a smile and a taunt in his voice simultaneously.

  "Don't call me that."

  "But you are. My bastard son. We're cut from the same cloth, you and I. I need someone to pass on my legacy to. Fortunately, I have a bastard son who can take over my empire once I'm dead and gone. None of us lives forever, unfortunately.

  "I'm not your son."

  "Oh, but you are. Your mother was a whore. But she was a good whore. If only she'd kept her mouth closed, she might still be living. Stupid woman."

  "You leave my mother out of this." Anger was pouring off Sully in waves. If Kingston had been standing in front of him, he would have broken his neck in one swift move.

  "She threatened to go to the press with your paternity. Wanted money to keep quiet. Bruno did the job quite nicely."

  "You son of a bitch." Sully tried—and failed—to keep his emotions in check. He knew that Kingston was baiting him, and yet he couldn't help but jump up and take the hook.

  "Actually, that would be you, but I digress. So, what do you say, Castle? Going to save your friends and their families and come work for me? Or are you stupid enough to think that you can go up against me and win?"

  Working for Kingston wasn't an option.

  "We will win. Mark my words, Kingston. I will personally see that you pay for all you've put my friends and our families through. I will ruin you."

  Laughter rang over the phone line.

  "It's a nice thought, son. But this isn't the movies. A few seconds slower, and you and your friends would all have been blown to smithereens. Next time, you won't be so lucky."