Magnum: A Dark Knights MC/Dirty Angels MC Crossover

by Jeanne St. James

  All he had to do was kick his legs, right?

  Fucking simple.

  Now, his brain just needed to believe it.

  Even from where the boat was drifting, he could see the lights to the resort in the distance. He just needed to head toward them. And not fucking die along the way.

  That last part might be the hardest.

  He looked at the edge of the boat, then looked down at his boots. They would fill up with water and be just like that anchor. But he also couldn’t leave them behind in the boat or near the bodies.

  No evidence could be left behind proving he’d been on that boat. None.

  Somehow, he needed to take his heavy boots with him.

  He removed them, grabbed another vest, tied them together and then shucked his jeans, too, knotting them tightly around his boots. He needed to be as light as possible. He needed to be able to kick freely.

  The goal was not to fucking drown.

  “Fucking bullshit,” he muttered as he took a deep breath, checked to make sure his balls were still attached, then moved toward the back of the boat, taking the towel along to wipe any remaining prints as he abandoned ship.

  With his heart pounding a rapid beat, he slowly and carefully made his way onto the small rear platform next to the outboard, then sat on the edge with his lower legs in the water. He clutched the stacked vests to his chest tightly, hoped the one around his neck held fast and, with his boots in his other hand, he slipped into the lake.

  For a second it felt like jumping out of the window of a ten-story burning building.

  When the cold water surrounded him, his first instinct was to panic, but he fought it. He breathed. He floated in place with help from the vests. He tried to get his bearings.

  Then once his panicked thoughts settled a bit, he kicked his feet enough to circle until he could find the resort’s lights again. His beacon. Where Cait was.

  Being solid and heavy, his own weight tried to pull him down. His own body wanting him to fail.

  He blew out a shaky breath, the cold, dark water now pulling at him as he used his foot to push away from the boat.

  In the direction of the resort.

  In the direction of Caitie.

  She was waiting for him.

  And he was sure she was freaking the fuck out.

  Just like he was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  His heart was pounding in this throat. His lungs were struggling to fill. The muscles in his legs were screaming. A tight band squeezed his chest from the cold lake. His water-logged boots, dragging behind him, were slowing him down. But he was not letting them go. If he survived this, he wasn’t going to fucking prison because of leaving something identifiable behind.

  But he was beginning to wonder if he would survive.

  He was swallowing more water than he should. And some had gone into his lungs, too, which made him cough and struggle for breath. It also made the panic rise.

  He was going to fucking drown. Die right there in a fucking dark watery grave, all fucking alone.

  Cait would never know how he felt about her.

  He’d never touch her again. Hold her again.

  He needed to keep going. Keep kicking.

  But it was so fucking cold. His muscles and joints were beginning to lock; his brain was becoming sluggish.

  He just needed to focus on two things: kicking and the shore.

  No, that wasn’t right. Kicking toward the shore and Cait.

  Fuck him, both seemed so fucking far away.

  Cait listened for a boat. Instead, she heard nothing.

  Against his wishes, she had watched Magnum from their balcony, along with Drew and Nate Gallo, go down to the dock earlier and get into one.

  Nate had to be assisted. One arm had been draped over Magnum’s shoulders, the other over Drew’s. And Nate’s feet dragged behind them.

  Was he dead?

  Did she even care?

  No, the only one she cared about was the big man who disappeared with the Gallo brothers a couple hours ago.

  She had waited on that balcony, chewing her nails down to nothing, pacing restlessly, fretting for over an hour before she had run down to the dock. If he got pissed at her for leaving their room, he’d just have to get over it.

  After a little while, she realized people might see her there because of the solar lights that were lit along the dock. She moved back to the shore and stuck to the shadows where she could wait undetected.

  But she was not going back up to their room until Magnum returned.

  Without knowing what Drew and Magnum had planned for Nate, she had no idea how long it would take.

  Even so, she didn’t care. She’d wait as long as it took.

  He was afraid of the water, so she was shocked when he got on that small boat.

  But he did. For her.

  He faced his fears for her.

  She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from screaming out his name into the dark still night. To hope he answered. To locate him.

  She stared out at the water, the moon reflecting off the smooth surface giving her a decent view of the area right off the shore.

  But in truth, she’d hear the boat before she’d see it. It had left the dock dark, with no running lights at all, and she suspected it would return the same.

  She strained her eyes and ears, searching for any sign.

  Still nothing.

  Her heart was in her throat and her pulse pounded in her ears as she kept surveying the flat lake. Only an occasional slow lap of a wave, most likely from a breeze, hit the shore by her feet.

  At first, she thought she was imagining it. A splash, a grunt, labored breathing. Her gaze sliced again over the water and still nothing.

  A few seconds later, she heard it clearly, an irregular splashing, not steady at all, as if someone was swimming. Or trying to.

  Who the hell would be out in the water?

  All the hairs on the back of her neck stood. Goosebumps exploded over her skin. Her heart that had been pounding, seized.

  “Magnum,” she called out softly, knowing her voice would carry over the water easily. “Magnum,” she repeated, fear for him embracing her.

  She swore she heard her name. She swore she heard his voice.

  But that couldn’t be. He couldn’t swim.

  What the fuck was going on?

  More frantic splashing.

  “Magnum!” she called out even louder, now not giving a fuck if anyone heard her.

  Finally, she spotted movement. Maybe a hundred yards out. Large, dark, moving awkwardly and with excruciating slowness toward shore.

  It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  “Magnum!” she yelled, toeing off her sneakers. She rushed into the water, almost falling into it face first when her feet sank into the thick mud. She caught her balance and kept moving, fighting the suck of the sludge trying to slow her down. “Magnum!”

  As soon as she was hip deep in water, she began to swim instead, doing a slow breast stroke so she could keep her head up and search the water line for him.

  There!

  Her chest compressed and her heart began to race as she swam faster toward him. He was coughing, almost choking, and it sounded wet as if he’d sucked too much water into his lungs. She kicked her legs more frantically and kept focus on the dark figure ahead, still trying to head in her direction. But he was slowing down even more. Almost to a standstill.

  “Don’t you give up!” she demanded, trying not to scream, as she put more power behind her strokes and legs. She put her head down and swam the hardest she’d ever swam.

  And then she bumped into something in the water. She reached for it. It was cold, solid.

  Magnum.

  She ignored the sob that was ripped from her and grabbed a hold of him. “I’m pulling you to shore. Just do your best to float.”

  He said nothing. Just a wet cough bubbled up.

  It didn’t matter.

  He was
alive. He was breathing. And she had him.

  She swam as hard as she could, holding onto him with all the strength she could muster, dragging him awkwardly through the water. And when she was close enough to shore, she put her feet down and found the mud again.

  “Stand up,” she ordered, still not letting him go. Making sure he was steady on his feet.

  As his own feet hit the thick mud, he almost stumbled but caught himself. She grabbed his boots and the wet denim and yanked them free from his hands.

  He threw the life jackets he had clung to during his swim farther out into the lake, then with painstaking slowness unstrapped and removed the life vest that had been hanging around his neck. He threw that away from him, too.

  Then he turned to her, stood there and said nothing.

  “We have to get you out of the water. Your skin is ice cold.”

  He didn’t answer her, but he trembled from the loss of body heat.

  She needed to get him warmed up and dried off as soon as possible. Cold water stole a person’s body heat quickly. Even though the days were warm, the water was not, and he could easily go into hypothermia.

  “Magnum,” she said, shaking him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever daze he was in. His brain might be shutting down. “Please. We need to get back to the room.” If he went unconscious, she’d never get him back. And she couldn’t call anyone for help. She didn’t want anyone to know he’d been in the lake or even near it.

  By him admitting he couldn’t swim to several of her co-workers, he’d be in the clear of anything that happened out there. She’d thought it unnecessary that he’d mentioned it to them, but now it made perfect sense.

  But even so, she wanted to avoid any questions. He said she was his alibi, and that alibi would be they were in bed all night.

  “Magnum,” she said sharply.

  “Cait.” Her name was slurred, which was not a good sign.

  She tugged on his arm and he followed her slowly as they fought their way through the muck, onto the grassy shore and once there, he stumbled to his knees. She swore he kissed the ground before, with agonizing slowness, pushing himself to his feet once more and shuffling alongside her back to their room.

  It was a slow trek, but they made it. As soon as she had the door closed and locked behind them, she began to strip him of the soaked long-sleeved tee and boxer briefs he was wearing, dropping everything onto the tiled floor.

  “Head to the shower,” she ordered, stripping herself of her own wet clothes as she followed him.

  As soon as she was naked, she pushed into the bathroom and past him, turned the water temp to warm and guided him in, following closely behind.

  The shower was tight but they stood under the spray until he stopped shivering, his skin warmed up, his eyes became more focused and he wasn’t so stiff.

  “Baby,” he finally murmured, once his teeth had stopped chattering.

  That endearment never sounded so good.

  She flung her arms around his middle, shoving her face into his chest and totally fucking lost it.

  Just like the baby he called her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He refused to talk about it. He wanted to keep her in the dark for her protection.

  While she understood it, she didn’t like it.

  They had checked out before breakfast, before most of the people on the retreat began to stir.

  Before anyone noticed the boat was missing, or Drew and Nate Gallo had skipped the last informal breakfast. Or even realized neither were in their cottages.

  She and Magnum had spent the rest of their last night at the resort wrapped up together, their limbs tangled, not saying a word. Just sharing each other’s heat and touch. A simple connection.

  No sex. No conversation.

  Just being.

  They stopped just outside of Binghamton and grabbed a breakfast sandwich for her and two for him, along with some strong coffee before continuing on their long journey home.

  Not much was said, though plenty needed to be.

  Every time she tried, he’d only shake his head and squeeze her thigh or her hand. She wasn’t sure if it was because he’d stared death in the face last night or because their week together was swiftly coming to an end.

  Or both.

  By the time they hit the New York/Pennsylvania border, her phone began to blow up.

  Have you seen Drew?

  Have you heard from Nate?

  Did you talk to either of them last night? This morning?

  Where are you two?

  Are you okay?

  She reassured the co-workers who texted her they were fine. That Malcolm had to return early this morning to deal with an issue at his business. She also asked them to keep her updated on Drew and Nate.

  Then a text popped up from her mother: I expect you and Malcolm for dinner tonight.

  Shit. That single text made her stomach churn more than the rest.

  She quickly responded back: It’s been a long drive. It’ll have to be another time.

  Her mother’s answer? Unacceptable.

  That was it. Just unacceptable.

  She closed her eyes and cursed under her breath, catching Magnum’s attention.

  “What?”

  “My mother wants us over for dinner tonight.”

  He was quiet for one heartbeat. Two. “Go. Tell her we fought last night and broke up. It’s over.”

  It’s over. Her head spun towards him. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He stared straight ahead through the windshield, holding the steering wheel in a death grip. “Did what needed to be done. It’s over.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Cait,” he said tersely.

  “No—”

  “Cait, don’t make this fuckin’ harder than it’s gotta be.”

  She turned her head quickly to stare out the passenger-side window, to hide the hot tears that slipped down her cheeks. She did her best not to sniffle so he wouldn’t hear it.

  In her lap, her phone pinged again. She blinked several times to clear her vision enough to see the text. She read it out loud, her voice thick with her tears. They found a resort boat drifting off shore. Signs of a struggle. No signs of Nate or Drew. On the end of that was an emoji bawling its eyes out.

  Fuck, what had they done?

  Were she and Magnum no better than Nate or Drew?

  Were they awful people?

  Her fingers trembled when she texted back: Oh no! I hope they’re okay. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.

  Magnum had risked not only his life and his safety, but his freedom for her.

  As she stared at the phone in her hand, another fat tear plopped onto the screen. “I love you,” she whispered, unsure if he heard her, not caring if he did.

  Because it was true. And he didn’t want to hear it the other night but she needed to say it.

  The only answer she got was him turning up the radio and filling the car with rock music that drowned out her muffled crying.

  By the time Magnum drove around the back of Dirty Dick’s, up to his house, and shoved the shifter into Park, divers were now searching Lake George near the resort and where the boat had been discovered drifting.

  She knew she’d soon get the news about Drew and Nate’s bodies being found. Then she’d have to nervously wait out the investigation, most likely answer a few questions from the police, and hope Magnum left no identifiable evidence behind. Hope to hell he’d made no mistakes to steer that investigation toward him.

  She worried for him. But she kept that to herself.

  They both got out of the Toyota, her eyes and nose red and swollen from trying to stem the quiet tears.

  His nostrils flared and his lips pressed into a thin line when he glanced at her for a split second before grabbing his duffel bag out of the backseat.

  He stood stiffly next to the car with his bag in his hand and his face unreadable as she went around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, a
djusting it for her shorter height. When she was done, her bottom lip trembled as she stared up at him, waiting.

  For something. Anything.

  He gave her nothing but a soft, “Talk to your mom, tell her it’s over.” With that, he slammed the driver’s door shut.

  She started the car, put it in reverse, but kept her foot on the brake as she watched him disappear into his house.

  She no longer had a reason to stifle the sob that filled the car as she drove away.

  Less than two weeks later, after speaking with the police in New York over the phone twice, she attended the double wake and both funerals, and stood amongst the crowd at the gravesites. She had shed real tears for Drew and Nate Gallo like the rest of her co-workers, their parents and their sister.

  She had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions.

  She also felt the loss deeply.

  Not for Drew or Nate. But for Magnum.

  Even so, the guilt of their death ate at her and she hadn’t been able to sleep.

  After a few nights in her apartment, she could no longer bear sleeping in her bed alone, so she’d gone home to the DAMC compound and decided to stay with her family for a little while.

  Until the grief passed.

  Until the hollow in her center filled.

  The agency’s offices were closed for those two weeks while everyone there not only grieved but reorganized since Hank was retiring immediately and Natalie was stepping into his shoes.

  During that time, she contemplated whether she could even walk back through those doors and into her office.

  Also during that time, she hardly left her bed in the spare room at Dawg and Emma’s.

  Emma would bring her food and her sisters would ask to come in, sit on her bed, and spend time with her.

  They thought the Gallos’ tragic death had hit her hard.

  They were wrong.

  While that still bothered her, it wasn’t why she remained sad and empty.

  A good reminder why she shouldn’t care about what happened to Nate Gallo was the video. All she had to do was squeeze her eyes shut and it would play all over again in her mind.