by Karen Rose
He’d probably stitched himself. If Nell had done it, the stitches would be perfect. Mallory should know. Nell had patched her up a few times when he’d hit her a little too hard, telling his sister that Mallory had been falling-down drunk or in a rage, so far gone she’d hurt herself.
‘What should I do with the bandages?’
‘Put them in a trash bag. I’ve got some other items to burn later too. Now, take the bottle of antiseptic wash out of the kit and spray it on the cut. Then there should be a tube in there, silver gel. Do you see it? Spread a little of it on the gauze and lay that on the cut. Then wrap it with the rolled gauze. Can you remember that?’
She nodded and set about doing his bidding, thinking while she worked. He’d need her to change the bandage tomorrow. She had plenty of supplies, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Unless she were to run out of something on purpose. The tube of silver ointment was nearly full, but the bottle of antiseptic wash was about two-thirds empty.
If he got a little more infected, and the bottle was empty, he’d need her to go to the store. And then I can call the woman at the police station. Ask for the lady cop.
It could work. She looked at the gloves on her hands and thought of the pair in her pocket. The ones she’d used on Roxy. Wouldn’t it be fitting if his cut got infected from his wife’s sores? If he were humane, Roxy would have gone to a hospital long ago. He could even have killed her himself, but Mallory had realized long ago that the man enjoyed seeing people suffer.
Because he could. She looked over her shoulder. His back was to her, so she pulled the gloves out of her pocket and turned them so that the surface that had touched Roxy’s skin was exposed. She rubbed the gauze quickly over the glove, then squirted the ointment on. It might not affect him at all. The ointment might kill all the germs before she laid it on his skin.
How am I supposed to know? I’m no doctor. Her hands surprisingly steady, she turned back to him and finished dressing the wound, winding the gauze around his arm as he directed.
‘Good enough. Clean everything up and put it in a bag. Leave it next to the back door. I’ll burn it all tomorrow. I’m going to bed now. Do not wake me up.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She waited until she heard his door close, then gave the top of the spray a quick twist, opening the bottle and dumping all but a squirt or two down the drain. She put the supplies back in the first aid kit and cleaned everything else. Just as he’d instructed.
Then she went back upstairs to change Roxy’s sheets.
And hoped that by this time tomorrow everything would be different. Better. For all of them. Me, Macy, those four kids. And even Roxy. Please.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Saturday 15 August, 1.20 A.M.
‘You know you were lucky,’ Zimmerman said for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Decker wanted to smack him, because every time he said it, Kate seemed to shrink a little more. ‘Yes.’ She nodded dutifully. ‘I know.’
She had been lucky. They’d known that the moment the doctor had pronounced her free of contamination, largely thanks to Kate’s quick reflexes and a cooperative wind. The bastard Professor, whoever he was, had used ricin in that canister – a very finely milled powder he’d aerosolized and released using a jerry-rigged flea bomb. It wouldn’t have had much of a range even in a closed room, but unlike ingested ricin, inhaled ricin was a death sentence. Had she not moved upwind, she might have breathed it in and died.
If the shot to her chest hadn’t killed her first. So yes, she’d been lucky.
Decker had known that even before the bomb squad had found the crude but effective explosive device under Kate’s car. Even before Zimmerman had charged into the O’Bannion home.
Their boss had been angry. They’d had their suspect in their hands and they’d allowed him to escape.
Allowed nothing. The bastard had come prepared, willing to kill more innocent people.
Decker wondered if he’d planned to fling the ricin gas into the house once he’d finished planting the small but powerful home-made bomb under Kate’s car. Because Stone was a former client who might have told them everything.
Which Stone had done, and Decker had been incredibly proud of him.
‘We’d like to sleep now, sir,’ Decker said respectfully. He was holding the door of the safe house apartment, where Zimmerman had been standing for the last few minutes. A few minutes during which he’d managed to tell Kate she’d been lucky no fewer than five more times. ‘I think Agent Coppola realizes how lucky she was,’ he added with a look of reproach.
Zimmerman blinked, realization dawning in his eyes. ‘I said that already, didn’t I?’
‘Several times, sir,’ Decker said levelly. ‘And I could really use the rest.’
‘You slept two whole hours in the van,’ Troy said with his trademark sarcasm. ‘Wasn’t that enough, farm boy?’
Decker’s lips twitched despite his exhaustion. He had slept like the dead the entire drive to the safe house, which Troy, Zimmerman, and Trip had somehow managed to stretch from forty-five minutes to a few hours, changing vehicles several times in case they were being followed. For once Decker hadn’t complained about being in the wheelchair. He’d been snoring too loudly.
‘Hell, yeah,’ Decker said sarcastically. ‘I’m raring to go. Let’s go for a ten-mile run.’
‘They’re fine, boss,’ Troy said to Zimmerman. ‘I’m in here tonight. Trip’s outside. You’ve got two more men downstairs. We’re all fine. Go home.’
Zimmerman nodded, giving Kate one last look over his shoulder, apology in his eyes. ‘I don’t truthfully know what I would have done differently. We’ll start again tomorrow. Good night, everyone.’
Decker shut the door and walked to the sofa, where he sank into the cushion next to Kate. ‘I thought he’d never leave.’
Troy had been standing next to Kate the whole time, as if he was her personal sentry. Now he patted her on the shoulder kindly. ‘Z cares too much and he’s already lost too many agents on this case. For the record, I wouldn’t have done anything differently either. I’m going to sleep in the room Dani used. I am a very light sleeper. I would appreciate discretion on your part.’
Kate looked up at him, eyes narrowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Oh.’ Troy rolled his eyes. ‘She’s polite now. Not so much last night when you made the night guard listen to you two . . . you know. Gettin’ it on, doing the horizontal mambo.’
‘She wasn’t horizontal, as I recall,’ Decker said smugly.
Both Kate and Troy stared at him, Kate in horror and Troy in momentary shock. Then Troy threw back his head and laughed until tears ran down his face.
‘Oh my God,’ he gasped when he could speak. ‘Kate, you’re going to have to duct-tape his mouth shut when this is all over and you date like normal people.’ He sobered on a sigh. ‘Because when this is over – and you are both still standing because you will be more careful . . .’ His expression softened into something wistful. ‘You have the chance for something real. Don’t fuck it up by getting killed. Now Uncle Luther is going to sleep. Please do not wake me up.’
Kate’s mouth had fallen open and remained so as she watched him walk to the bedroom. She kept staring after he had closed the door.
Decker curled his finger under her chin, closing her mouth. ‘He cares too.’
She exhaled helplessly. ‘I’m . . . God, Decker. I don’t know what I am. I thought for a few minutes that Zimmerman was going to fire me, and if he hadn’t, that Deacon would skin me.’
Deacon and Faith had shown up with Scarlett and Marcus soon after Zimmerman had stormed in like a hurricane, and for a little while there had been mass pandemonium, with everyone talking at once, until little Delores Kaminsky had stood on the sofa and whistled so sharply they’d all fallen silent. ‘Delores saved you,’ Decker s
aid fondly.
Kate’s lips curved. ‘She wasn’t going to let them upset Stone. I was just lucky to be covered by that wave.’ Her smile faltered. ‘God, Decker. Stone . . . I never would have dreamed he’d suffered so much. And to go through rehab all alone like that . . . Diesel helped him, sure, but keeping his family in the dark? God, how incredibly lonely he must have been.’
‘I know.’ Because Stone had realized as soon as the shots were fired that the police would come, and he’d known the big question would be why two agents had come to visit him. He’d come clean about everything. In front of his family, friends, Delores . . . ‘He was so afraid that Marcus and his dad would be hurt. Or not respect him.’
Another smile bloomed on her face. ‘But they stood up for him. I have to say, for a minute there I wanted to beg Jeremy O’Bannion to adopt me.’
‘Me too. So now we know that Stone has a support system, and we know valuable things about the Professor.’
‘Twenty years,’ Kate said, shaking her head. ‘How could he go twenty years and not be caught, Decker? He’s got to have friends in CPD. He’s got to.’
‘I agree. Somebody would have had to say something along the way. File a report . . . something.’ He reached out his arm in invitation, content when she scooted over to lay her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close and for several quiet heartbeats just let them be.
Then she sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Decker. I’m sorry I excluded you this evening. I rushed into that situation without thinking. And things could have been so different. I’m bossy and I’m clumsy. With feelings.’
‘No you’re not. You’re just too used to being alone. What did you think I’d say, standing there in Jeremy’s foyer?’ When she’d closed her eyes and waited, like she was ready to take a hit. Verbal or physical. It had nearly broken him.
‘That I deserved what was coming to me. That I was bossy and a bitch and ran roughshod over people to get what I wanted.’ She swallowed hard. ‘That you were done with me before we even got started. Because you looked so devastated. Like I’d ripped your heart out.’
‘I thought as much. Not all the things you just said, but I figured you were thinking like that. But I didn’t think any of those things. I only wondered who’d said them to you. Then I figured it was your dad and your brothers. I just hoped it wasn’t Johnnie.’
She pulled away enough to see his face, her eyes filled with a relief so profound it shook him. ‘I’m almost more relieved to hear that than that I was ricin-free.’
He frowned at her. ‘Now that’s just stupid, Kate.’
‘I said almost.’ She relaxed into him, sighing wearily. ‘Not Johnnie. Never Johnnie. My dad, yes. Mom, yes. Brothers, hell yes. And even Jack, there at the end. But not Johnnie.’
‘Good.’ He pushed away the tinge of envy that wormed its way into his mind. ‘I’m glad.’
‘Johnnie is dead, Decker. You’re not. And because – according to Zimmerman – I’m the luckiest special agent on the frickin’ planet, neither am I.’
He kissed the top of her head. ‘Are we good now?’
‘Yes. Until I rush into something again and have to apologize.’
He squeezed her shoulders, making her flinch. Immediately he let her go. He was so relieved about the ricin exposure that he kept forgetting she had a bruise on her chest from the fucking Professor’s fucking bullet.
She stiffened a little in surprise. ‘Did you just growl, Decker?’
‘Yes. Bastard, shooting you in the chest. I owe Diesel Kennedy dinner for life for maiming that fucker’s arm. Otherwise we wouldn’t have had to worry about the ricin. You’d have been dead either way.’
‘Or in a medically induced coma for a week so my wound could heal,’ she said tartly.
That took the starch out of his sails. ‘Oh. Right. I kind of forgot.’
She snickered. ‘Holy shit, Decker, we’re a pair.’
He had to laugh. ‘Peas in a pod.’
Her snicker turned into silent laughter that shook her shoulders. ‘We both need a keeper.’
He tilted her chin up, so damn happy to see her laughing. So damn happy, period. He kept staring, drinking her in, committing the image of her laughing face to memory. She stopped laughing, gazing up at him, and the moment abruptly changed, the relief in her eyes now hunger.
And that fast, he was hungry too. He stood up, took her hand. Pulled her to her feet.
Then took her mouth, possessiveness overwhelming him like a dark flood. You’re mine. She’d been his since she’d dropped out of that tree and shoved a rifle in his back.
Making a low noise in the back of her throat, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a desperation he needed to quell.
‘Sshh,’ he whispered. ‘I’m right here. It’s not a race. And I’m not going anywhere.’
Her arms relaxed a fraction and she licked her lips, then licked his. ‘I really think we’d better go somewhere. Because we’re not doing any horizontal mamboing out here.’
He grinned and kissed her again, this one lush and far less desperate. She hummed in her throat and melted into him, pressing her breasts into his chest. He slipped his hands under the hem of the heavy shirt she wore, brushing his fingers over the silky skin of her lower back before venturing higher, massaging where a bra would have been, had she been wearing one.
She’d shucked off all her clothes before showering, including her bra. And being a houseful of men, nobody had an extra one for her to borrow. She’d worn a button-up shirt over the T-shirt Keith had loaned her, so she looked perfectly modest. But Decker had known.
‘Drove me crazy, knowing you were naked under this shirt.’ He started walking toward the bedroom and she stuck with him, moving backwards with grace. And trust. Like she knew he wouldn’t let her get hurt.
She smiled. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. I kept remembering what you looked like. And felt like. And tasted like.’ He whispered the words, nuzzling her neck, finally making it to the bedroom. He closed the door quietly. ‘I want you.’
She licked his lower lip again, little flicks of her tongue. ‘Then take what you want, Decker. And I’ll take what I want.’
‘What do you want?’ he asked, then slowly pulled the T-shirt over her head, leaving her bared to the waist and so beautiful. All soft skin and curves. So many curves. And one nasty bruise. He bent down to kiss it, not realizing his muscles had gone rigid until she ran her hands over his shoulders, kneading them gently before giving them a soft rub and a shove.
‘I want you to look at me, not the bruises.’ She petted his chest through his shirt, gentling him. ‘Because I’m always going to have bruises, Decker. It’s part of who I am.’
She was right. He knew that. So he licked a path from the bruise to her throat, letting his palms roam up her sides, cupping her breasts. Feeling her shiver.
‘Slow?’ he asked. ‘Or fast?’ He flicked her nipples with his thumbs. ‘Sweet or dirty? Tell me.’
Her head dropped back, leaving her throat exposed. ‘I don’t know. I can’t think when you do that. Just don’t stop.’
Chuckling, he kissed the curve of her throat. ‘Slow, then.’
She hummed, the vibration tickling his lips. ‘I like slow. Sometimes. But not tonight. Not right now. Right now I want to take a shower. I smell like hospital soap.’
He brushed his lips over her ear, pinching her nipples lightly because it had driven her crazy the night before, and she shivered again, harder. ‘I don’t care,’ he whispered.
She rolled her shoulders, straightening in his arms. Gently pulling his hands off her breasts. ‘I do.’
‘Then I’ll join you.’
She hesitated. ‘We need to cover your bandages with something to keep them dry.’
‘No nee
d. The bandage where they took out the chest tube is gone. I had the doctor look at it at the hospital when you were being decontaminated. I’m cleared for full shower activities.’
‘Good to know.’ She grabbed a handful of his shirt and turned for the bathroom, pulling him along with her. ‘Come with me.’
He didn’t argue, just toed off his shoes, letting her lead. For now. She turned on the water and began unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, then tugged at the Velcro tab on the Kevlar vest he wore beneath. He took it off and hung it on a hook on the door. Because he’d need it tomorrow, and wrinkled Kevlar itched like a bitch.
Then her hands were on him, fanning over his skin, and he forgot about Kevlar and he forgot tomorrow. He closed his eyes and simply . . . felt. ‘I went without touch for so long,’ he whispered, the words coming out gravelly. ‘I’m gonna really need it for a while.’
She didn’t say a word. Just kissed the hollow of his throat tenderly while her busy fingers unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his pants. The belt clattered when it hit the tile floor, but the sound barely registered because she was undoing the button of his pants, sliding down the zipper, then pushing them off, pants and shorts together. She followed them down, ending in a crouch, looking up at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes that had his cock jumping while she watched.
She kissed the skin above his knee, then feathered more kisses over his thighs, up to his hip, and it took a minute for him to realize that her lips were brushing over his scars. Then he didn’t think at all because her mouth was on him, hot and wet, and a groan rattled out of his chest.
She pulled away, that wicked gleam unabated. ‘You have to be quiet or I won’t do this.’
He clamped his jaws closed, pursing his lips, and she laughed softly. ‘I thought so,’ she said, then took him deep again and he thought he’d lose his mind. His head fell back, his hands splaying flat on the wall behind him as she worked him, sucking and licking until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to her feet, taking her mouth with a ferocity that should have given him pause, but she met him with equal force, gripping his head, her fingers raking through his hair, her nails scraping his scalp as she pulled him into her, giving as good as she got.