“I can help with that,” Francine said. “No problem.”
“I’m sure you can,” Mac said gently, then turned to Dallas. “When will the cops get here?”
“In about an hour,” Dallas replied. “According to my team member there, they’re still at the house gathering evidence, taking photos, talking to the husband. Oh, speaking of him, I think he’ll be along soon, man. Apparently Mark here bashed his head in pretty damn good… you’ll have to check him over for any damage.” He considered. “Well, more damage than he already clearly has, I mean.”
Mac’s blue eyes flashed. “Dickhead.”
The other nodded in complete agreement.
“So, can I see Alexandra?” Francine asked Mac. “Sit with her?”
“Yeah, for sure,” Mac said. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
“And can I stay until she wakes up?”
“Definitely.” Mac smiled down at her. “I think she’ll need you there when she comes to. If you can stay until that happens, it’d be a big help.”
Francine looked at Dallas. “My hours at the safe house tomorrow… my sessions with the kids…”
“Don’t worry about anything,” Dallas said. “I’ll call Olivia and let her know the deal. I’m sure Emma can do a few hours tomorrow.”
Francine bit her lip. “I don’t know… she’s more than eight months along, Dallas. She gets so tired so easily.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “You just leave it to us, yeah? Your priority is Alexandra, darlin’, and so you just go on and be there for her. Let everything else go for now.”
She still looked uncertain. It wasn’t really her style to give her responsibilities away to other people, and she was still trying to work out some way to be everywhere at once. Dallas knew that damn good and well, and he grinned.
“Seriously, Doctor Cabot.” His tone was affectionate. “We got this.”
She sighed. “Alright. Thanks, Dallas.”
“Sure thing. Go and sit with Alexandra. Be there when she wakes up. Try to get some rest yourself in the meantime. OK?”
“I’ll try.”
“And I’ll be along soon,” Mark added. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Oh, no.” Francine gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Mark. You’ve been so great, and I want to thank you for all your help. You saved her life, and I know that she’ll thank you herself when she can. But Alexandra is my patient, my responsibility, so you can peace out now. Go home, get some rest.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Read one of your beloved racy romance books about shape-shifting wolves.”
“Huh?” Dallas said, eyeing his second-in-command. “You love reading what now?”
“Nope.” Mark grinned down at her, thinking how adorable she was when making little speeches and sassing him. “Not happening. I’ll bring you some food, yeah?”
She paused. “You sure?”
“Mmm-hmmm.” He fought down the urge to lightly brush his knuckles against the perfect curve of her cheek. “Totally. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Alright,” she said softly, wondering why she was so happy at the thought of Mark being with her a little while longer. “See you later.”
Mark and Dallas watched her and Mac leave, then they turned to stare at each other. Dallas nodded at two chairs in the far corner, and they sat.
“OK, Hayden,” Dallas said, his professional hat firmly in place. “Break it down for me.”
So Mark went through it all in the minute detail that Dallas so loved. They’d been working together for five years now, and there was a damn good reason that Mark had advanced so rapidly in Solid Security. Dallas’ firm was full of consummate professionals with wide experience, with multiple degrees, with incredible special-ops backgrounds. His people were smart, tough, trained, dedicated. Any one of them could have been his right hand, but Mark was extraordinary. He always had been.
For Dallas, what made Mark stand apart was his absolute selflessness in the face of death. Yeah, every single of one Dallas’ people would step in front of a bullet to save a client, or a team member, and none of them would think twice while they did it. He refused to hire or work with anyone lacking compassion or empathy, and so everyone under his command had a heart beating away under their strong physique, had a conscience along with a sharp brain.
Every one of Dallas’ team members would sacrifice themselves for someone else because that was the job that they’d signed up for. They’d made a promise and taken an oath, and they all had the astounding strength and conviction of character to keep that promise, to fulfil that oath. They were amazing people, some of the best people that Dallas knew.
Mark, though. Mark had never learned to sacrifice for others. He’d never been trained to step in to danger and shield someone else. He’d never become a protector, or a warrior, or a savior. He just was, and he always had been. He’d been born that way, and Dallas could spot it in a person at fifty paces. It was why Mark was his lieutenant, his most-trusted confidante, his brother under the skin.
Dallas listened intently now, as Mark told him about the night: from running in to Francine by accident, all the way up to the drive to the hospital. Mark finally fell silent, and Dallas narrowed his eyes.
“What the hell did Francine say to that sick fuck?” Dallas asked. “To keep him occupied and distracted?”
“Well, I didn’t hear everything, obviously,” Mark said. “I just caught a minute or two as I crept up behind him. But she was telling him that Alexandra wasn’t ever going to get better as a wife or woman, and that she thought it best if the therapy sessions ended. Said that Alexandra would never learn what he needed her to know, and nothing he did or said would ever change that.”
“Really?” Dallas was dumbfounded. “She told him exactly what he wanted to hear, huh?”
“Damn straight. She manipulated him, man, and she did it while looking subservient, stupid and sexy, all at the same time. The control-freak’s wet dream, and she pulled it off.”
“Goddamn. The woman’s a born actress with nerves of steel.”
“Yep. She stood there and validated every one of his sick fucking delusions and fantasies… just served them up to him as hot little facts. He was eating out of her hand, I swear to you, and she never flinched. Not even when I was standing right behind him with my gun over his head. She gave nothing away, Dallas. Nothing.”
Dallas shook his head and whistled. He’d known that Francine was an excellent therapist, and that she understood human behavior intimately. But he’d never imagined her using her skills and knowledge to manipulate anyone. In his experience with her, she’d only ever used her abilities for good, and the fact that she could flip someone’s insecurities back on them, use her gifts for evil – well, objectively speaking, since pulling a fast one on an abusive dickhead was hardly Dallas’ definition of ‘evil’ – was stunning.
“Anything else, Dallas?” Mark asked now. “I’d like to get some food for me and Francine, and go and see Alexandra.”
“No, we’re good. I want to get to the Mayer house, anyway, check in with Sully. But one last thing.”
“Shoot.”
“What’s this about shape-shifting wolf romance books?”
Mark shrugged, playing it casual. “Unlike you, Foreman, we don’t all have a former supermodel to curl up with at night, man. The rest of us just make do the best we can.”
Dallas laughed. “Yeah, yeah, OK. Point taken, smart-ass. Go on, now. Go see Francine.” He took a sip of coffee and shuddered. “And for God’s sake, bring the woman some drinkable coffee, huh? Francine is a hardcore coffee-lover, Hayden, and if you don’t give her this sludge, I promise you, she’ll love you forever.”
Mark nodded, wishing that it was as easy as bringing her a coffee to make her fall in love with him. But with a woman like Francine – brilliant, brave, be
autiful – he got the feeling it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that.
Mark wondered if he had it in him, whatever it was, wondered if he had a chance with her. Because after seeing both her steel and softness tonight, he knew that she was all that he wanted.
All that he’d ever wanted, even if he hadn’t known that until right now.
**
Francine looked up when Mark came in to Alexandra’s room. He carried two paper bags, and a heavenly smell wafted in with him.
“Is that coffee?” she asked. “Please tell me that’s coffee.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He set everything down on a small table next to the door. “I took a run out to an all-night bakery. Got some fresh croissants, a few donuts… and some coffee not from a coin-operated machine.”
“Thank you, Lord.” She accepted her cup, grabbed some milk and sugar. “And thank you, Mark.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t just mean for the coffee, you know. I mean for – everything. For all of it.”
“You’re welcome,” he repeated. “I’m glad to have helped.”
She regarded him over the steaming coffee. “You are, aren’t you?”
“I am what?”
“Glad to have helped.”
“Of course I am.” He sat down on the chair across the room from her, wishing that he was closer. “I wouldn’t have wanted you going to that house on your own, Francine. That is one dangerous, violent man, and if it had been just you, and you’d walked on in there with no idea what was happening?” He sipped his coffee, struggled to not get angry. “It may have ended badly for two women tonight, not just one.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Mark tore his eyes away from her, focused on Alexandra. Even cleaned up and stitched up, the woman was a mess, he saw now. Nothing but bruises and bandages and swelling. She just looked so beaten down, so fucking helpless, and he was sorry that she’d had to go through any of this. His whole body tensed up with anger at what would almost certainly have happened if they hadn’t got there in time.
“She doing alright?” he asked.
“She’s sedated. Heavily.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Francine sighed. “The cops should be here soon to take our statements.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Me too.” She took a bite of chocolate donut. “I can’t wait to do whatever I can to get that asshole behind bars for a long, long time.”
“Ditto.”
They fell in to silence now, but there was nothing awkward about it, not in the slightest. She found it warm and comforting, actually, and almost strangely familiar. She was surprised to find that she just liked having Mark nearby. She liked looking at him, hearing him breathing, watching his hands move.
He had gorgeous hands, she decided: they were strong, large, capable. Those hands had held a gun tonight; they’d hit a man over the head savagely enough to render him unconscious before he’d even hit the ground. They were brutal, lethal hands, but she’d watched him check Alexandra in the SUV as they’d arrived at the hospital, and she knew that his hands were also impossibly tender, gentle, careful. Healer’s hands.
She wondered how it would feel to have those hands on her. And as soon as she finished having the thought, as soon as she was open to having someone touch her, as soon as she let her iron-clad control relax a fraction, the shock of the evening hit her. Hard.
“…Mark?” Even that one syllable was hard to get out through her suddenly-chattering teeth.
“Yeah?”
“Can I –” She took a deep breath, set down her coffee with trembling hands. “Would you –”
He glanced over at her, concerned. “What is it, Francine?”
Her stomach clenched as his incredible face turned to her. “I’m so sorry to ask you this. I feel like an idiot.”
“Never feel that way around me. Ask me anything, anytime.”
“It’s… I’m…” She dropped her eyes, just not able to say aloud what she wanted from him. What she needed him to give her.
Alarmed now, he got to his feet, crossed the room. He squatted down in front of her, and tried to get her to meet his eyes. That was when he saw her shaking.
“Talk to me,” he said softly. “Tell me what’s going on here.”
“I’m –” She shut her eyes. “I’m cold.”
Mark took her small hand, started. “God, you’re like ice. Delayed shock, huh?”
Her eyes still shut tight, she nodded. “I feel so stupid.”
Without another word, he grabbed an extra blanket off Alexandra’s bed, wrapped it around Francine’s shoulders. Then, before she quite knew what was happening, he lifted her to her feet and sat in her vacated chair, tugging her back down as he went. He drew her in to his huge arms, and suddenly, there she was: sitting on Mark’s lap, held tight in his embrace.
A part of her wanted to stand up and run, to just get as far away from him as possible. Damsel-in-distress wasn’t her scene – hell, no – and not even a little bit. Francine was always the one who stayed cool when the shit was hitting the fan, and she was the one who pulled others through and out. Her job was all about staring trauma and tragedy in its all-too-human face, and then telling the darkness to just fuck right off. She never called for help; she never went weak.
Despite all these things being true, it was also true that she wasn’t about to move away from him, not for a million dollars. This is, after all, what she’d wanted from Mark. What she’d needed.
So she curled her small body in to his huge one. Her hands came up, held on to the front of his t-shirt. She rested her face on his broad chest, and felt his heart beating against her cheek. She just stayed exactly where she was, surrounded by muscle and heat.
Safe. I’m safe here.
Mark exhaled, hard. Fuck, she felt good – better than anyone he’d ever held before. The fact that she so clearly needed him made it better, somehow, since he wanted to do something for her. Anything, really.
He wanted her to know that he was the kind of man that she could turn to, and count on. He wanted to take care of her, not because she couldn’t take care of herself, but because even the strongest woman needed a hand up sometimes. He’d seen her strong, and now he’d seen her stumble… and he loved that she trusted him with both.
He tightened his grip around her trembling curves, held on. Her hair was silk against his rough, unshaven skin. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his lips, pressed the softest, most tender kiss on the top of her head. Startled, she stiffened for a second, then relaxed and nestled closer.
“I’m sorry to be doing this,” she whispered. “It’s not like me to fall apart. I always hold it together, Mark. Always.”
“Hey, no.” His fingers were in her hair now, on the back of her neck. She shivered again, and this time, she wasn’t totally sure that it was from the shock. “Don’t apologize. Don’t you know what you did tonight?”
She shook her head against his strong chest, not having the first clue what he was talking about.
“You faced down a sociopath, Francine. All alone.”
“I wasn’t alone,” she said quietly. “You were there.”
“Not the whole time.” His hand was stroking her long, blonde hair now. “You were on your own, and you know it. Don’t downplay your cool and smarts, not ever, and most definitely not with me. Not many people could have done what you did.”
She sighed. “So… you think I did OK?”
“OK?” Mark lifted her chin with his finger, held her gaze. “You did good, Francine. Damn good.”
“Yeah?” She was caught in those green eyes, both warmed and frozen by their intoxicating mixture of fire and ice.
“Hell, yeah.” He cupped her cheek in his huge palm, traced her rosebud lips with his thumb. “You
amaze me, babe.”
And there it was again: that possessive, molten tone. The one that felt like a physical touch, lightly moving over her skin. Like Mark owned her, somehow… like he had claimed her, without her knowing or even seeing it.
She liked it. She liked it a hell of a lot.
Something else she liked: she liked Mark. Sure, she didn’t know all that much about him in some ways. She had no idea where he grew up, and what his days at work really looked like, and how his most recent romantic relationship had ended… but in some of the most important ways, she already knew all that she needed to know.
She knew that he was a man who’d rush to help a total stranger, and he’d do so without being asked. He had done that tonight: she’d looked up, and there he’d been, holding her coat, paying the bill, car keys in hand. No questions, no hesitation.
He was also a man who’d kick down a door, and stride on in to a potentially life-threatening situation to save a woman he’d never even met. Gun cocked, eyes narrowed, muscles taut, all lethal cool and furious calm. Francine had no doubt whatsoever that if Rick Mayer had opened fire, Mark would have returned it, and his aim would have been true. She was also convinced that if Mark had been able to beat Rick in to the floor without risking Alexandra getting more hurt, he’d have done it.
Mark was a man who’d hold a woman while she was shaking, hold her up while she was down, and he wouldn’t make her feel weak for being shaky and down in the first place. No, in this exact moment, he was using his strength to comfort, to soothe. To help Francine get back to her feet, because she needed that boost. Just for now, just for a little while.
So what she knew was this: she'd been wrong about Mark at Liv and Dallas' wedding. She'd been wrong to assume that he was a vain, self-absorbed guy who expected women to fall at his feet. She knew now that Mark was a good man, in his heart. He was solid and steady. He was a caring, protective man. What else did she really need to know?
Solid Heart (Unseen Enemy Book 7) Page 5