When Ange finally spoke, it startled her, and she realized she, too, had dozed off a little bit. “He was shot, which was what you heard when you were running to the stables.” The older woman’s voice sounded strange, hard and devoid of any kind of feeling. “Then he was taken to some sort of canyon, and,” she swallowed hard, “tortured. Pretty extensively.”
Cassie whimpered right before the dam broke and she began to sob quietly. It was so much worse than she’d feared. She didn’t even know what had been done to him, but she knew she was the cause, and she’d never felt more wretched in her life.
Ange’s arm across her shoulder was welcome, but wholly undeserved. She was a reprehensible human being, oblivious to the suffering she inflicted on other people by her selfishness. “I did this,” she whispered as a tissue was pressed into her hand.
“Oh, baby, no. You didn’t do this,” Ange assured her as she pulled her closer and kissed her head.
Unable to take the completely unwarranted comfort and concern, Cassie twisted out from under her arm and began to pace. “No, you don’t understand! I sent an email! I figured the wi-fi was safe because it was encrypted and his family owns the freakin’ mountain! I didn’t think they’d be tracking my email! They found me, and Mackenzie got shot protecting me! I did this to him!”
Ange’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as the rant subsided and stood up with both hands out. “Okay. It’s okay.”
“No! It’s not!” she wailed as she collapsed to the floor in more tears.
Mack’s partner knelt beside her and rocked her as she held her. “No, baby. No, stop.” She herded her back to the chairs that lined the edge of the drab room. When she settled down, Ange took her hand in both of hers. “Okay, yes, you made a mistake. Yes, Mack got hurt. But you are not the one who shot him, nor are you the one who hurt him. This is the job, and he knew what he was signing up for when he marched us all out of that safe house in the middle of the night. Your boy is tough, a scrapper, and he will get through this. I need you to get through this, too, for him.”
Cassie appreciated the words, but couldn’t take the sentiment to heart as much as she wanted to. Her absolution was too freely given. “What do I tell Conchita?”
“Same thing that I told her, the suspect got into the house as a gardener and shot Mack, and took him hostage while he assured your safety. He did his job and kept you out of harm’s way.” If Ange was angry with her, like she had every right to be for endangering her partner and all of them, really, she wasn’t showing it in the slightest. Before Cassie could contradict her, she held up a hand. “It is the job he signed up for, and does very, very well. You’re alive and the bad guy is in custody. That is always a win, regardless of the collateral damage.”
“That’s a clinical way to look at it.” She wasn’t trying to provoke the Marshal, but she didn’t understand the equanimity. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”
Ange squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. “Would it make you feel better if I did?”
She hung her head. “No.”
“Would it make Mackenzie feel any better if I yelled at you?”
Now she felt even worse for discounting his partner’s forgiveness. “Probably not.”
“Then I’m not introducing yelling into this situation.” From the set of her jaw, Cassie could see the conversation was closed.
They sat in the waiting room, and every time the door opened, they both perked up, only to be disappointed by a nurse or doctor poking their head in, looking around, and then leaving again.
“Trista’s coming,” Cassie offered when the silence became oppressive.
Though she looked asleep in the chair, the dark haired woman nodded. “I figured as much. From Nashville?”
“She caught the first thing smokin’. Probably be here tonight.”
She was actually looking forward to seeing her friend, and it would be infinitely easier to deal with the press and pressure with her friend at her side.
“I’m glad she’ll be here with you. That’s actually part of the reason I was running late. I stopped by the house to pick up your stuff.”
Even in the face of her partner’s grievous injuries, Ange was still looking after her. “You have no idea how grateful I am. To both of you.”
Eyes still closed, Ange’s lips curved into an exhausted smile. “I know. It’s okay.”
Conchita and the priest from St. Joseph’s arrived about half an hour later to join them in their vigil. It took the better part of an hour to fill them both in on Mack’s condition so far and how he got that way. When the doctor came out to tell them Mackenzie was now in recovery and would be moved in a little while, the whole room deflated in a sigh of relief.
Cassie looked to Conchita, who looked like she’d been wrung out and strung out, and took her hand. It felt good to be strong for someone else for a change. “Do you think we should call his parents?”
Both she and Ange were adamant in their “No.” She wasn’t going to ask why.
The waiting was interminable, intolerable. They moved around the room, trying each chair until they’d exhausted its level of comfort before moving to the next one. The conversation was sparse and the clock a hated foe, and when the door slammed open and Eli and Bex strode through, it was to a collective sigh of disappointment.
“Christ, what a zoo! Is the Pope in town or something?” Bex complained as she flounced into the chair next to Ange.
Eli rolled his eyes with an indulgent smile for his wife. “Can’t take you anywhere.”
The redhead frowned as she looked around the room. “What’d I say?”
Eli’s sigh was long-suffering as he wandered over to the window across the room to peer out the blinds. “I guess your whereabouts are no longer secret,” he mentioned to Cassie.
She shook her head, resigned to the life she’d chosen. “I’m honestly surprised I wasn’t besieged at the police station.”
“They were just happy to have you. That was good thinking riding out there.”
He sounded impressed, an observation that pleased her. “I was just thinking of getting away. The ‘where’ wasn’t terribly important at the time. Hell, I could have ended up in the meteor crater so long as I could get away from the shooting.” The memory threatened to surface, but she beat it back with a deep breath. “I still owe the Chief an autograph for his daughter.”
“Speaking of,” Ange sat up and rubbed her eyes as she looked at Bex. “How’d that go?”
“In a word: badly.” Eli came over and took the seat next to Conchita, across from his wife, who sat up with big eyes and a conspiratorial grin. “Do you want to tell them, or do you want me to?”
“Tell us what?” Cassie demanded, fears erupting and multiplying at light speed on her brain.
Bex gestured to her husband, who leaned in to speak to the group. “It’s entirely probable you’re going to have a new boss when you get back from vacation.” He looked simultaneously eager and speculative.
Ange sat back in her chair with a look of cautious hope. “How’s that work, exactly?”
The two Vegas Marshals took great pleasure in regaling them with the tales of the arrest of Hinojosa and the subsequent undoing of Deputy Chief Austin Grambling.
Mack’s partner, a woman Cassie thought was utterly unflappable, looked completely thunderstruck. “I knew he was a self-serving bastard, but Jesus…. I had no idea… And Mack…”
Eli nodded. “The arrest warrants are either coming down or being served right now. Cassie is safe, Mack’s going to recover, and this whole ordeal, including dealing with Grambling on a daily basis, is over.” He moved over to sit next to his wife, and she snuggled into his side.
“I’m sorry, I hate to interrupt, but I don’t understand,” Conchita interjected haltingly. “The man who hurt Mackenzie, who was going to hurt Cassie, he’s under arrest?”
Ange took his mamita’s hand, nodding. “That is the least of his problems. He and his buddies are going away for a
long, long time.”
Conchita thanked her, all of them.
Ange resumed her semi-napping pose with her head against the wall and her dark eyes closed. It was only a moment later that she bolted to her feet. “We have to give statements, write and file reports! Criminy.” She rose from her seat and started toward the door. “There’s a mountain of paperwork—”
“That will wait until we’ve all had a minute to decompress,” Bex interrupted as she moved to block her path to the door. “How’s Jefferson?”
Ange and the redhead returned to their chairs. “In recovery, we’ve been waiting to hear more for a bit now.”
Bex nodded and took a page from Ange, closing her eyes for a minute. “Then we’ll wait.”
The room’s customary silence returned, all Cassie wanted to do was pace. She hated waiting, hated not knowing, hated the idea that Mack was in here at all. The thoughts chased through her mind, separated, reformed, tangled. Happy it was over, upset that Mack was hurt, wondering if he blamed her like she blamed herself, needing to know he was going to be okay. All those things. “I’m gonna get some coffee. Anybody else need anything?”
It felt a little better to be doing something, to be marginally useful in a time when she was the most useless piece of the puzzle. She took the orders of the sentries outside and conscripted one to go with her. It was the least she could do.
* * *
When Mack opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if he really was awake or if his dreams had suddenly gotten very boring. He wasn’t in pain, which was a remarkable improvement over what he remembered, but he still hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The sound of the click of the latch in the door had him jumping and reaching for his gun, only to find the pain he thought was gone had merely been asleep as well.
“Mr. Jefferson, good to see you awake.” The doctor was a woman who looked like she could have played pro ball. “I’m Dr. Spicer, and I have to say, you had us all worried for a minute there.”
“Sorry,” he rasped, his throat feeling like it had been scraped raw and doused in alcohol.
“Not at all. Completely reasonable under the circumstances.” As she did her cursory exam, Mack felt his mental faculties coming slowly back online.
He had questions, a ton of questions, but the thing he needed to know more than anything else was: “Cassie?”
“You have a lot of people in the waiting room who will be eager to see you.” She tapped on her tablet for a moment and dropped it to her side, giving him a warm smile. “I’ll send the nurse in with some water, and I’ll have them come in one at a time. Please don’t overdo it.”
He nodded and scrambled to sit up in the bed. The thought of seeing people brightened his spirits considerably, since that meant his questions could finally be answered. The nurse came in, and he thanked her for his water, the feel of the cool liquid going a long way to restoring his voice.
The knock at the door set his nerves on edge. The woman with the blonde hair and tentative smile who entered a moment later did nothing to ease his nerves. Everything had changed now, and as glad as he was to see her smiling face, things between them were far from settled.
“Hi,” she breathed as she sat next to his bed and took his hand. The way her lips trembled made his heart twist in his chest.
“You’re okay?” He had no doubt in his mind that even if she were on the run, she’d be there for him, regardless of the danger to herself.
Cassie nodded, eyes on their joined hands. “I’m not the one in the hospital.” Her thumb softly massaged the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”
“I’m alive,” he mused with a fair amount of mirth. Given his circumstances earlier in the day, that hadn’t been a guarantee. “Ange…?”
“She’s in the waiting room with everybody. You had a lot of people worried.” She had yet to look at him. “I was worried.”
He reached out and cupped her cheek with his bandaged hand. “I’m sorry, Cass.” Her blue eyes fell shut and she turned into his touch. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, to know you’re okay.” The knowledge that he was keeping her from harm had been the only thing to sustain him.
“No, I’m sorry. I ran away when you needed me.” She sniffled and reached for a box of tissues from a table on his nightstand. “This is all my fault, Mackenzie. I…” she took a stuttering breath, “I’m the reason this happened to you.”
“Cass, honey, no.” It was a struggle, but he pulled Cassie into the bed with him, her head on his good shoulder. She curled up with her arm around his waist and feet tangled with his in the blankets. In quiet, broken breaths, she told him about emailing Trista and how that brought the hitman to the house. The whole time, she held him tightly like she expected to be sent away.
Petting the bandages under his hospital gown gently, she apologized again, “I didn’t mean for… I didn’t think there’d be any harm in talking to her. I knew she wouldn’t say anything… I just missed my friends.”
“I get that.” He did, and really, he couldn’t hold her any more responsible for what happened than he did himself. He’d gotten complacent, careless, going around the house without his gun because he was home. It was worse than a rookie mistake, and he was damn glad to have the opportunity to berate himself, given the other choices. She didn’t do more to him than he did to himself, and he knew better, but because he was emotionally invested in her, his mind wasn’t on the work, it was on the girl. And for that, she was blameless, and him, not so much.
As much as he wanted to think otherwise, he realized then it wasn’t going to work. They weren’t going to work. He didn’t blame her for his condition, but his condition was a direct result of his carelessness around her. They just led two diametrically opposed existences. She was a darling of the public, and his whole life was predicated on secrecy. He needed anonymity; she got recognized buying gas and groceries. The two of them together…it was a recipe for disaster and resentment. He’d either have to leave WITSEC, a job he loved and was good at, or ask her to leave her life in the limelight behind. It was too much to ask of anyone. “Cass, we gotta—”
A nurse came in after knocking softly. “Mr. Jefferson? Oh, jeez, I’m sorry.”
He smiled and beckoned her closer with his IV hand, other arm securely around Cassie. If these were their last moments, he wanted to imprint them on his memory. “It’s okay, what’s up?”
The bespectacled young-looking blonde with the meticulous topknot and purple scrubs slinked into the room. “I just wanted to tell Miss Witt that there’s a Trista Mayfield downstairs in the main lobby asking to see you.”
Cassie sat up, chewing on her lip and looking unsure. “Okay, I’ll be out in a minute, okay?” The blonde nodded and backed out of the room. To Mack, she whispered, “I gotta go. Real life calling, with press and things.”
“I know.” As much as it hurt to think he wasn’t part of her ‘real life,’ he knew this had to be it. “You know you can’t mention me, right?” he asked, hoping he conveyed everything else he didn’t want to say.
“I know.” She nodded, looking at her hand splayed across his chest. “This isn’t going to work, is it?”
Her watery voice brought tears to his own eyes, and he hoped he could keep it together long enough for her to go. “No, and I am so sorry.”
Carefully extricating herself from his embrace, she straightened her clothes and grabbed another tissue. “I get it, our lives are just…incompatible.”
That was the most succinct way to say ‘heartbreakingly irreconcilable’, and he could only nod. She walked to the door, and every step she took away from him hurt almost as badly as his wounds.
Hand on the handle with her eyes on the tips of her boots, she whispered, “I love you,” and then she was gone. He had nothing to say that wouldn’t make it worse on both of them, regardless of how much he returned the sentiment.
Mack took the time to grab his own tissues, mourning the loss of everything t
hat could have been, and though he knew why, the reasons rang hollow. When Ange and Conchita came in to see him, he had himself together, more or less, and he put on the best front he could for his family. It was for the best.
Epilogue (8 months later…)
Cassie’s transition back to her real life was bumpier than expected. Everyone had questions, and though she and her newly installed manager Trista had worked out a convincing cover story, she felt bad having to lie to her public, especially her fans. The music went on, and her album sales only went up with her return.
There were huge interviews on primetime with every available media outlet, plus stories and articles in Vogue and People, among others. She was a wanted commodity, which was normal, yet she still felt incomplete.
Not a day went by that she didn’t think about Mackenzie and their time together, as brief as it was. She mourned it, him, all of it. Musically, that time had been a boon, and she had her second highly-anticipated album of the year about to drop with a tour to follow. As they plotted dates and locations for the tour, city names like Phoenix and Las Vegas gave her pause. She’d go, obviously, but with a heavy heart. Just one of those things, she supposed.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had a relationship go badly before, or even that she didn’t understand why Mackenzie told her goodbye. With every request for interview, public appearance, or red carpet event, she wished he’d been with her, and knew with every camera flash why he couldn’t. It made sense to her head, even if her heart protested vigorously. Not a day went by that she didn’t wonder how he was or what he was doing. Mackenzie Jefferson was a shadow that wouldn’t leave her, and she couldn’t send away.
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