by G. K. Parks
When we emerged from the woods, the door of the SUV sprung open. Martin had me in his arms before Mark even let go. He carried me into the SUV and laid me down on the back seat. I blinked up at him. Since when did Jablonsky allow a civilian to tag along on what probably would have been a raid? It didn’t make sense. Neither did the tactical vest securely fastened around Martin’s torso or the nine millimeter holstered at his hip. No, I thought sadly, this is just another delusion, probably a result of the trauma or dehydration.
The hope fizzled away. This wasn’t real. Tears welled in my eyes. It was another dream or hallucination. I’d been having enough of those lately. I was probably still trapped in that bomb shelter or unconscious at the bottom of the embankment. My mind was playing cruel tricks, imagining escapes and happy endings. I shuddered. Of course, it felt real. The pain was real, but nothing else was.
“Sweetheart, you need to drink,” Martin insisted, holding my head up as he pressed a bottle of water to my lips.
I swallowed a few mouthfuls.
The radio chirped. “Jablonsky, we found someone. Another victim. He’s in bad shape.”
“Reroute the ambulance to your location. I’ll take Parker myself. Stay on top of the search. I want this son of a bitch in custody by the end of the night.” Jablonsky glanced back at us. “She’s in rough shape. We should go now.” He flipped on the lights and hit the siren.
“Alexis,” Martin said softly, “you’ll be okay. It’s not far. Just stay with me, okay?”
“I wanted to tell you how much I love you,” I said, “but I didn’t get the chance. I probably never will. Wherever you are, I hope you know that. I’m sorry I didn’t say it more.”
“Alex, hey, I’m here. I’m right here. You’ll have plenty of time. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
I closed my eyes. I wasn’t a quitter, but this time, I was ready to give up. Noah was dead. I was trapped in some godforsaken hellhole with no chance of escape. And my mind was creating the perfect delusion, which should have thrilled me but instead broke my heart and spirit. My own psyche was far more damaging and dangerous than anything that sick bastard could do to me.
“Do you know where he went? Where he might go?” Mark asked, but I didn’t respond. “Parker, hey, focus. The man who took you, the one with the red car, do you know where he might be? Where he might hide?” My hallucination of Mark was just as dogged and demanding as the real Mark.
“I don’t know. I don’t know who he is or where we are.” I rubbed my hand against the seat upholstery, aggravating my blisters. “He had me in the trunk. I tried to escape, but I failed. He kept me chained in the bomb shelter. I didn’t see much. When I got free, I went into the cabin. There might be something there. I don’t know. I had to leave before he came back.”
Mark relayed the details over the radio as the SUV took a sharp turn and stopped. Suddenly, bright overhead lights disturbed the dark. I was moving quickly but not under my own power. Questions. So many questions. Voices. I blinked against the too bright lights. Martin was beside me, jogging to keep up.
“Sir, family only.”
“She’s my wife.”
Yeah, definitely hallucinating, I decided. Well, there was no reason I couldn’t try to enjoy it. I turned my head and saw the determined look on Martin’s face. Truthfully, he didn’t look so bad in tactical gear. It must have been a memory from when I watched him run through the HRT training course, except I didn’t recall the dark circles under his eyes or the beginnings of a beard. Those were probably products of my imagination. A result of the cabin and woods.
“Is she allergic to anything?” a nurse asked.
Martin said something that I missed while I wondered what he’d look like as a lumberjack. Flannel and plaid did not suit him. Not at all. He did pull off a convincing tuxedo, and I focused on that, wondering if hallucinations worked like lucid dreams. If so, I should be able to control things. After all, it was my mind.
My head lolled back, and I noticed the tubing in my arm. Whatever they pumped into my veins was nice. Everything stopped — the pain, the thirst, the fear. It was gone. All gone.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt okay for the first time in as long as I could remember. The hard concrete floor was replaced with a soft bed. My skin wasn’t sticky with sweat, and even my hair felt clean. Something rubbed against the inside of my forearm, and I turned to see Martin gently rubbing arnica gel over my skin.
“Am I dreaming?” I asked.
“No.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against my forehead. “The doctors said you were lucky. They believe you’ll make a full recovery as long as you get plenty of fluids and the proper amount of rest.”
“I’m not lucky.”
Anguish burned in his green eyes. “No, you’re not. But it could have been worse. They bandaged what they could. Your rib was dislocated, but they popped it back into place.” He leaned close, gently brushing my hair back. “Are you in any pain?”
“Not right now.” I looked around the room. “Where’s Mark?”
“He’s leading the search for the fucker who did this to you. I swear, we’ll find him, and when we do...” He bit his lip and moved to stand, but I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go.”
“Never.” He repositioned the tray table and moved his chair closer. “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”
I reached for the cup of water, and he held it so I could sip from the straw. “I heard what you said to the nurse last night.”
Martin smirked. “Did you? You weren’t making a lot of sense at the time. I distinctly recall you asking where my tuxedo was.” He chuckled. “That was a pretty high dose of morphine they gave you.”
I winced, feeling the bandage along my cheek. After checking to see if my teeth were still in my mouth, I asked, “Did we get married?”
“Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything that crazy. I just said that because they wanted to kick me out, and I wasn’t letting you go. The lie was easier than waiting for actual documentation to be faxed over. You know how inept administrators can be. It’s not like we’re home with the paperwork on file at the hospital. I hope I didn’t freak you out. I didn’t mean it, Alex.”
“Are you sure? We could get married. Find a chaplain.”
His gaze shifted to the bag hanging above the bed. “Yeah, okay. Those are the painkillers talking, but whatever you say. I’ll do anything you want.”
The questions continued to come to mind. There was no stopping them. “Where are we?”
“About three hundred miles from civilization.”
I stared at him. Thoughts of Noah ran through my mind. Mark was searching for the man responsible. We must have crossed state lines for this to be FBI jurisdiction, or he called in some favors. “Idiot.”
Martin frowned. “What?”
I shook my head. “Me. I’m the idiot. It was an abduction. That makes it an FBI case.” Another thought formed. “Did you pay the ransom?”
“Let’s not talk about this now. You need to rest.”
“Did you?” I repeated.
“Yes,” he squeezed his eyes closed as if in pain, “it should have gone smoother. I did what he asked. He shouldn’t have hurt you.” A harsh breath escaped his lips, and he stared out the window. “That’s why I was in the car, how we knew to follow him, how we found you.”
I turned and looked out the window, seeing far too much tree and sky. “I want to go home.”
Martin nodded, already expecting that request. “I’m working on it. Just as soon as Cross’s medical team arrives, we’ll go to the airport. My jet’s waiting.”
“Cross’s team?”
“It’s a short flight, but I don’t want to take any more chances.” He kissed my knuckles. “Lucien has a stellar trauma team on his payroll. They’ll accompany us home. It’s the least he can do.”
“How long was I missing?”
From the look on Martin’s face, I knew he didn’t want to
have this conversation, but he answered anyway. “Four days.”
In a lot of ways, it felt longer. “I was afraid what you’d think. That morning at your house, I should have told you I understood.” I cracked a teasing, playful smile, ignoring the pain in my cheek. “You’re invested. You can’t lose me.” My face fell, seeing the pain in his eyes. I’d gone through hell, but so had he. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry. I love you, and I’ll shoulder whatever burdens are a part of that.”
Twenty-seven
The constant dull throb was turning back into a stabbing pain. The painkillers were wearing off again, but I didn’t want any more pills. I’d been in a pleasant fog since the hospital. It was time to face reality. My mind needed to clear.
I reached for Martin, hoping to find comfort in his arms. Despite the fact he’d been keeping his distance, it was the middle of the night. He should be asleep beside me. However, he wasn’t there, and I opened my eyes. Resisting the urge to jerk upright and search for him, remembering what a bad idea that had been when I’d done it earlier, I slowly rolled onto my back until the heating pad was beneath me and turned it on. Most of the swelling had gone down, so the heat soothed my aches and pains.
Martin was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed. His elbows dug into his knees, and he stared at me with an intensity I usually only saw when we were fighting or making love. I groaned, and he physically flinched at the sound.
“He shouldn’t have hurt you,” Martin said, his voice rough. “I gave him what he wanted. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
“What did you expect from a sadistic piece of shit?” I retorted with my usual level of sarcasm.
“As soon as I realized you weren’t coming home, I called your cell. You didn’t answer, so I called your office. Lucien gave me the address and met me at the gallery. I don’t know why he did that.”
“I have an idea.”
Martin didn’t hear my comment or chose to ignore it. “I should have tried calling you sooner. I should have realized something was wrong. Maybe we would have gotten to you faster. Maybe this asshole would be in custody or dead by now.”
“You were there when it mattered.”
His features contorted, and he looked away. “I should have acted quicker.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I’ve never been able to protect you. I wanted that to change. I thought it would be different now.” He rocked back in the chair. “I would do anything to keep you safe.” He let out a cynical laugh. “I just keep thinking of the terrible things I said to you. The way I treated you when you took extreme measures to protect me. I’m a fool. All the time we wasted. Three months. We could have had another three months. That’s time we’ll never get back.” The last few days had made him rethink, revisit, and spin out.
“No, you were right to be angry. But we’re so far beyond that now. It’s ancient history. I don’t want to think about that. You shouldn’t either.”
“So what should I think about? The bullet hole in the wall of the gallery? The video footage of you trapped inside? Watching that animal drag you away?”
“There’s footage?”
“Cross recovered the data. Most of it was corrupted when the drive was destroyed, but some of it was backed up on the server. It recorded the changes that were made to the security and fire suppression system. It caught bits and pieces, enough that we knew what happened.” Martin worked his jaw. “I called Mark and Heathcliff and everyone else you know. They searched for you, for signs of what might have happened. Since he took the paintings, Jabber figured this was about money. We expected a ransom. I was ready.”
“Did you let the FBI conduct the negotiation?”
Martin scowled. “I know their recovery rates. I tried calling Mercer, but the number was disconnected.”
For a moment, I wished Julian had manned the negotiation. I knew how the former SAS operative worked. The asshole responsible would be dead now. “He tosses his gear after every mission.” Martin didn’t know the other methods of getting in touch with the K&R specialist, and it wasn’t important that I tell him now.
“I would have hired someone else, but without a ransom, I had to wait. And Mark thought it was a bad idea to have private contractors involved. He was afraid they’d botch it. So when the call came, I followed the instructions to the letter.” Martin sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “That bastard knew I’d give him whatever he wanted on the condition that you not be harmed. I don’t understand why he would risk everything by violating the terms.” Martin frowned. “I told him I’d pay.”
That asshole’s words repeated through my mind. So will you. “Fuck.”
“What is it?” Martin asked, already on his feet and beside me.
I waved him off. “He knew. All along, he knew who I was. That’s why he made sure I was trapped in the gallery, so I couldn’t interfere. I would have tried something, and he knew it. That’s why he never tortured me for information or money. It’s why he kept me chained to the floor with those ridiculous restraints. He couldn’t let me wander freely in a cage.” I cursed my own stupidity. “He fucking knew.” I reached for the phone. “I have to call Mark.”
Mark didn’t return home with us. He was leading the search. Every inch of the property had been scoured for evidence. The surrounding woods were still being explored for clues or hints to the unsub’s whereabouts. Somehow, the asshole gave us the slip. The cover of night and the unfamiliar surroundings gave him a clear advantage. One of the teams found tracks which led to a dirt path. The bastard had an escape route planned.
I looked at the clock. It was a little after three a.m. “You’re still out there?” I asked. The teams had been searching nonstop for over a day.
“I’m heading back in the morning.” Mark sounded defeated. “We’re working the last of the grid tonight. Everything we collected is being processed. I won’t lie to you. What we’ve found is disturbing. I will be damned if he gets away with this.”
“How’s Noah?” The grifter had been discovered unconscious a few hundred feet from the shed. I didn’t know the specifics, but I knew it was under dire conditions.
“Out of surgery, but he’s still critical. He hasn’t woken up. They don’t know if he will. The locals assigned a protection detail, but they aren’t equipped to handle this situation. As soon as he’s stable, I’ll have him transported back to the city.” Someone said something, and Jablonsky barked a response. “I have to go, and you need to get your beauty sleep. The docs said you were battling exhaustion on top of the extreme dehydration.”
“Yeah, yeah. Call me when you get back.”
“I will. Night, Alex.”
“What is it?” Martin asked.
“Mark didn’t say much. The asshole’s in the wind.” I propped myself up a little higher and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”
“To get soup. I’m starving.”
“I’ll get it for you.” He returned a minute later, trading the mug for the phone in my hand. I drank, wishing for something a bit more substantial. But this would do for now.
“Aren’t you tired, handsome?”
Martin didn’t answer. He ran his fingers through my hair. “You think he knows you.” He examined the self-inflicted bruises on my forearm from my failed attempt to break the padlock. “Jablonsky said it’s the same man who attacked you outside Cross Security. Is that what you meant?”
“Tell me about the phone call and the ransom demand. He called you Mr. Scott, right?”
Martin rubbed his temple. “Yeah, I think so. I didn’t give a shit what he called me.”
“Alexandra Scott was my cover identity for dealing with Noah, the con artist.”
“Yeah, I know. I remember the rings.” He smirked ever so briefly before the magnitude of the situation weighed him down once more. “What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Alex
andra was a trophy wife with a rich husband. Noah owed this guy money but couldn’t pay. He took Noah because of money. It’s why he took the paintings from the gallery and the rings.” I bit my lip and reached for the phone again, but Martin grabbed my hand instead. “I need to call Jablonsky or Cross. Someone needs to track the paintings. If they get fenced, we’ll find the guy.”
“They know, sweetheart. They scoured every inch of the gallery. They know what’s missing. They’re already on it.”
“Right.” I finished my broth, far from satiated but too tired to ask for another cup. “My point is, if this son of a bitch believed I was Alexandra Scott, he would have gone for the easy payday. Instead, he ignored the possibility completely. It was only after he nearly killed Noah that I promised him the money, and he called you.”
Martin followed along very well for someone who probably hadn’t slept in nearly a week. “He didn’t believe you had the money. He didn’t believe your cover. And since he attacked you outside Cross Security before this shit went down, you’re guessing he knows precisely who you are.”
I shivered, and Martin climbed into bed beside me. Our apartment building had top of the line security, but the possibility that the abductor might try to finish what he started left me unsettled. I wasn’t safe, and neither was Martin. We wouldn’t be safe until this bastard was behind bars or in the ground. Too bad we still didn’t have any idea who he was or where he was. He was careful. Meticulous. Possibly versed in evidence collection.
“He’s not getting near you again,” Martin insisted. “Bruiser and Marcal are going to stay close, at least until you’re back in fighting shape.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he put his finger to my lips. “I’ll hire additional security to watch my back, but I want people I trust guarding you.”
“Marcal isn’t a bodyguard. He’s your valet.”
“You say valet. I say he’s my go-to for anything and everything. That includes watching over you. If I’m not around, he will be.”
“Martin,” I tried to protest.
“Don’t fight me on this. You will lose, Alex. It’s not because I don’t believe you can take care of yourself. Hell, you fucking proved you’re more than capable. If Mark and I hadn’t shown up when we did, you would have flagged down the next car, gotten yourself to the nearest hospital or police station, and told them what happened. You didn’t need us to rescue you. You did a fine job on your own.”