Magdalena clamped down on her own dread as concern for herself morphed at lightning speed into terror for Law. She’d dragged him into this, whatever it was, and now he was going to pay the price.
As her gaze sought him, Law advanced from the window toward the center of the room. A grim scowl set his face as he turned toward the intruder. “Tonight you’ll learn your place in this world,” he said in a quiet, cold voice. “Mike or Aaron, whoever’s on fire in the yard, already learned his. So, why don’t you go ahead and call in your man left standing. You’re going to need him.”
Disbelief clogged Magdalena’s throat, making it impossible for her to voice the thoughts in her head. They all jumbled there anyway, running into one another, wrestling for priority.
Davis stepped toward the edge of the stairs and his harsh gaze flew toward the broken window. In the distance, agonizing screams carried on the wind. When he turned back to Law, his fists curled into meaty balls. Law placed himself between her and the madman, giving her his back, but she couldn’t be bothered with the chic embedded in his skin. All her attention riveted on the frames of the two men.
As size went, Davis had Law in bulk, with his boulder-like muscles bulging the fabric of his shirt. Yet, the way Law ran his mouth, he didn’t seem to care. He stood tall, wide and muscled in his own right, but his hugged closer to his body. The way she’d seen him move, they seemed crafted for work, not show. Still, she didn’t want to find out which of the two would come out on top.
She stood and water sloshed around her ankles. The rawness of her larynx stung, but she spoke through the pain. “Please, Davis, we can talk this out. I don’t know what I did to wrong you, but I’m willing to make it right.”
The bulky man’s grimace eased and he nodded. “Talk? Sure we can.”
The carved ridges in Law’s shoulders grew impossibly deeper, but he didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Magdalena hoped he’d stay silent. She could diffuse the situation, if he didn't get all macho on her.
“Thank you,” she nodded. “Just don't hurt my friend. He has nothing to do with this.”
Davis’ forehead crinkled. “Looks pretty invested from where I’m standin’. Just come over here, so he doesn’t get hurt.”
Before she could raise a foot over the high metal edge, Law’s voice scraped its way through the tension-thick air and into her ear. “Magdalena. Do. Not. Move.” The simple demand given in such a brutal tone knocked her senses for a loop. Never one for orders, her body and mind bent to his will. Something in that grave timbre told her, of the two men about to bust heads, Law would come away the victor.
Make that three.
A bloke she’d never seen rounded the corner with a nasty growl. As wide as Davis’ carriage was, this guy’s nearly doubled his, but got cut short in the legs assembly. “She’s fuckin’ dead,” he yelled. “You,” he roared. His sausage-like finger stabbed the air between him and Law. “You killed Aaron. Burned my brother bloody alive.” The guy’s voice cracked with emotion and he screamed. “Both of you are corpses. Standing corpses.”
Dread and anxiety grabbed Magdalena’s intestines with both hands and played double-dutch. If she could move, she’d fall on the floor in a worthless heap. As luck would have it, she stood paralyzed.
Having digested the news, tears streaked Davis’ stern face. He let loose a battle cry and ran for Law, as she’d done to the guy at the media building’s entrance earlier. Presumably, that had been the dead guy, Aaron. His back hunched and his battering ram shoulder tucked forward.
Law stayed perfectly still until Davis got nearly atop him then he crouched low. His arms wrapped around Davis’ shins and he stood, tossing the giant over his shoulder. Davis landed head first on the floor. The defending sound of cracking bone reverberated in the room. The man’s body collapsed like jam onto the wood.
Magdalena’s stomach vibrated and rocked. She heaved as the scene replayed itself over and again in her mind. Her hand slapped over her mouth, but there was nothing for her gut to expel. That didn’t stop it from trying. She might have stayed there all night in a standing hunch if Mike didn’t pull a big-ass blade from his back. Her stomached settled out of necessity, but her hand did not move. Instead it stifled her ghastly moan.
Law stood impassive at all the shit going on around them. His posture appeared as relaxed as if he were going to play a few rounds of tennis with a friend, but his gaze never veered from Mike as the man moved down the steps. Mike’s gaze darted from Davis to her and back to Law in a whirly-bird of confusion.
Mike stepped in, raking the serrated metal across the air. Law pivoted, moving just out of reach of the deathblow, and countered with a fist to the bloke’s fat face. The bulldog looking man stumbled a couple of steps, but shook off the hit with a roll of his shoulders. He circled Law right then left, but her champion outmaneuvered Mike, not allowing him past mid-point, closer to her.
She watched, the air choking in her lungs, as Mike sliced at Law’s middle, missing by a few inches, then arching high to strike at his face. When she expected him to step back he moved in, plastering his body to Mike’s. Law’s left arm coiled around Mike’s knife hand and clinched it under his arm. Mike slashed the knife wildly, catching Law’s shoulder. Crimson pearled from his tanned skin and coursed down his tricep. Before the droplet of blood reached his elbow, a familiar crack of bone wrought the air and Mike hit the floor in a heap, the knife preceding his descent by a blink.
Law collapsed on his knees next to the body, his hand searching Mike’s neck. “Dammit,” he ground. His fists clenched and pressed against the ground on either side of his thighs.
Her broken sob turned his head and he pinned her with a gaze she couldn’t interpret. His eyes pleaded. His jaw worked. “Magdalena,” he said in a firm whisper.
Hand still over her mouth, she nodded.
“You’re okay. Use my phone there on the coffee table and call the Met. Tell them there’s been a break-in and that three men are dead.”
As he talked, he searched Mike’s pockets. She had no idea what he sought and didn’t want to know. By the time she dragged her gaze away from him, he’d moved on to Davis’ corpse. She’d seen dead bodies before, but she’d never seen someone’s life leave their body.
Mags sat on the sofa in a semi-controlled collapse, buckling knees and gravity doing most of the work. When she reached for his phone her hand jittered like a druggie’s on their second day of rehab. The device fell into her lap. Shaky as her hands were, she’d expected it to land on the floor. Magdalena balled her hands into fists to steady them before she pressed the screen to life.
Her fingers hung over the numbers, but Law stopped her. “Don’t make that call. We have to go, now.”
13
“What?” Magdalena’s gaunt features turned ghostly white. “Why? We have to tell the police what happened. You killed…because of me…three men are dead.”
Law stuffed the disturbing papers into his pocket and carried their wallets, keys, and phones over to Magdalena. He dumped the collection into her lap then hoisted her off the couch in the crook of his arms. “I know you don’t get any of this. I’m still processing, and I am far more accustomed to this sort of thing than you.” His gaze traveled to the corpses littering Baine’s estate. “Just not this close to home.” She dropped his phone into the pile and wrapped one arm around his neck. With the other she grabbed her big tote. “I need you to trust me. Trust me to keep you and everyone we love safe. And don’t ever try and sacrifice yourself for me. Clear?”
“Clear,” she rasped.
As he hurried through the house, much like they’d entered it, he asked. “Do you have clothes at your dad’s?”
“Yes.” Her mousey voice dragged him over hot coals, but he didn’t have time to worry about her emotional state. Her physical well-being took precedence at the moment.
Law shoved his feet into his boots without socks and yanked his jacket off the hook. Magdalena’s eyes zeroed in on his chest. The pink
of her pretty mouth formed an O.
“Your cuts! Am I hurting you?”
“All superficial. Quit worrying about me, Magdalena.”
He strode through the back door. Since the frame lay in splintered pieces on the ground he didn’t worry about closing it. He carried her into her dad’s house, which boasted a matching frame, and up the stairs into the bedroom she’d occupied as a little girl. While completing the plumbing job he’d passed it several times, but refused to enter, hoping if he didn’t he’d rid himself of her haunting presence more quickly.
He sat her on the bed and scooped the heap in her lap into the green bag. Then he shrugged on his leather jacket and zipped the front. “I need you to pack a bag with enough clothes to last you a few days, but small enough to carry on your back. Can you walk enough to do that?”
“Yeah, I think so,” she whispered. Her eyes saucered, but her pupils weren’t dilated.
“Socks?” He turned toward a short bureau.
“Top left.”
Law grabbed a pair of socks and eased them onto her feet. “You have three minutes.” He turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?” The desperation in her voice kicked him in the solar plexus.
“I have to see about the other body.” He kept walking, unwilling to look upon the disgust certainly marring her sweet face.
Following the scent of foul barbecue, Law found the third chump in the bushes by the sitting bench of the side yard. The charred lower half of the body told Law he didn’t burn to death, but died of smoke inhalation. The bloke hadn’t planned on the firebomb he’d thrown into the house changing direction and coming for him. With exercised caution, he extricated the guy’s phone and wallet from his pockets, but found no keys.
When he returned to collect Magdalena, she walked toward the front door on her socked feet, shuffling from side to side in a slow but steady pace. The black slacks she wore scraped the floor and the tattered blouse billowed around her middle. A book-bag strap hung over her right shoulder, further impairing her stability.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because I couldn’t sit and think. I needed to move.” She swatted a wayward group of strands from her brow.
“I get it.” He closed the gap between them and lifted the bag from her shoulder. “Do you need your green bag?”
“No, I consolidated. The phones and other things are in the small outside zipper, and here’s your phone.”
“Perfect,” he breathed. She laid the phone in his hand and her fingertips grazed his callused hand. A lump knotted his throat. She was perfect, for him. And she was everything he’d given a wide berth over the last seven, or was it eight, years now.
Law slung the satchel onto his back and bent to scoop Magdalena into his arms.
“I was making it on my own, you know?”
“A damn fine effort, but the rocks are sharp and we’ve gotta go.”
“What’s the big hurry? What did you find that changed your mind so suddenly?”
He ignored the question and walked to the garage entrance, punched in the code, maneuvered them through the door, and locked it. He elbowed the lights and hurried through the open bay to his one and only lady, a black and chrome Harley Davidson Springer Classic.
“I’m not riding that thing,” Magdalena said with a vehement shake of her head, her mussed strands wagging at him for emphasis.
“Yes. You are,” Law countered. He sharpened his point by setting her lush ass sidesaddle on the small rear seat.
Her hands sank into the leather of his jacket, holding him close. “I’ve never ridden one of these things.”
Prying her fingers from his collar and sleeve he liberated the riding jacket from her grip. “She’s not a thing. She’s a Hog, and,” he added before turning away, “I’m happy to be your first.”
That shut her up and rosed her cheeks to a high blush. While she stewed he hurried across to the safe tucked behind an old sheet of plywood and confiscated his holstered Sig Sauers. The cherry wood grips peeked from beneath the leather and blew him a kiss. He stripped the jacket and struggled on the guns. His cuts ran the lines of superficial wounds, but they sure stung like a bitch.
Magdalena’s gasp echoed in the hollow concrete and brick interior, but he ignored her for the moment. An achievement deserving of a medal. He slipped into the coat, zipped, pulled out four loaded magazines, and secured the safe.
She studied him with her green gaze as he walked toward the bike. She’d kicked a leg over the side of the bike, and, aside from her missing footwear and shell-shocked expression, she hugged it between her thighs like a natural. He couldn’t help but appreciate how the rounds of her bottom kissed the black leather. Good Lord, the things he could do with an ass like that.
“Who are you?”
While he loaded the saddlebags with her belongings and two of the magazines, he tried to ease her mind, as much as he could. “Lawrence Pierce, tart. I know you have a million questions rattling around that head of yours and I’ll do my best to answer the ones I can, but not here, not now. Okay?”
Magdalena sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled it slowly on a nod. “Okay, for now.” He handed her an extra helmet and she balked like he’d handed her a rat. “I’m not wearing that thing. It’ll suffocate me. Look, it doesn’t even have breathing holes.” She gestured to the blacked-out full face shield.
“There’s plenty of ventilation. Plus, it will hide your face from whoever’s looking and protect your head, in case.”
“In case, what?”
“A life and death situation and you’re going to argue over a helmet? Put it on your pretty head, Magdalena. Now.”
Law woke his phone’s sleeping screen and squinted at the time. It’d run past the five minute allotment he’d given them to get the hell out of there, but he had one more thing to do before they could leave. Indecision never addled his brain before, but as he grew to expect, nothing was normal where Magdalena was involved. Not one damn thing. More reluctant to leave her alone than for her to hear the call he needed to make, he chunked caution into the can, turned his back to Magdalena, and dialed.
“Juliet. Uniform. Sierra. Tango. India. Charlie. Echo. One. Nine. Four. Five.”
After a series of beeps an operator answered. “Voice confirmation complete. Agent Pierce, how may I direct your call?”
“K. Slaughter.”
“Bored already? I told you I didn’t want to see your ugly mug or hear from you for three weeks.”
“I’d tell you how much you miss me, but I don’t have the time.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need clean up at Baine’s.”
“Christ, have you been compromised?” Her words were all business, but her voice squeaked a little at the end.
Law pictured his boss and dear friend as she likely sat now, behind the desk she’d worked so hard for and often resented for keeping her out of the action. Her fist probably threatened to snap the pen in her hand. Grey eyes clouded, ready to strike a man down with a blink. Few could overlook her damn crazy orange-red painted lips pinched in a grimace sharp enough to make some fellows run for the hills and seductive enough to make others kneel at her feet.
“Negative. It’s family trouble.” As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he should’ve said it differently.
“Oh, my God. Lill and Love,” Khani gasped.
“No, Baine’s family, not mine,” he said.
“I hate to sound callous, but thank fuck. I couldn’t handle anything happening to them. Now, tell me what in bloody hell is going on,” she demanded.
“I’ll message you details and some names I need you to run in twenty. Just get the maids pronto,” he begged.
Khani growled into the line. “Fine. Anything you need, let me know. It’s yours. On or off the books.”
“Thanks,” he said before ending the call.
Law turned to Magdalena, and, ignoring her hanging jaw, kicked a leg over his Hog. He gu
ided the stand up with his boot then slid the key from the pocket where he’d stowed his phone and shoved it into the ignition. One of Magdalena’s hands grabbed the hem of his jacket hesitantly, like the thought of touching him after seeing his dark side revolted her. And though it was all for the best, it raised his hackles.
He reached both his hands behind his back and found her thighs. His hands smoothed down her legs. At the crook of her knee Law tightened his grip and yanked her toward him. Lust punched through his cock as open legs engulfed his butt in supple warmth. He hunted her wrists then pulled her chest against his back, wrapping her arms around him. Careful not to jar her, he let his hands glide over the backs of hers. Desire stirred him this way and that. Wanting to protect her. Wanting to be rid of her. Wanting her.
Magdalena’s chest expanded and narrowed against his back in easy succession for a moment before she rested her head on his shoulder blade. Her voice came in a whisper. “I was right.”
Law started the engine, raised the garage door, and set them off through the uncertain night.
14
Magdalena followed James Bond up a second flight of stairs. She’d insisted on walking, which made the muscles in Law’s jaw frantic, but he’d obliged. More importantly, he carried her bag and kept an easy pace as she lugged her dashed body. If he rounded to the next set of stairs she’d need a break before she went farther. Every cell in her body quivered from shock and exhaustion. When he headed for the never-ending succession of steps she focused on conquering one at a time.
Thankfully he turned onto a well-lit corridor and unlocked the first door he came to. Law flipped on a light and a one-room flat spread out before them, its interior nearly vacant except for a mattress on the floor between two windows and stacks of books lining either side of the makeshift bed. To the right, an open kitchen protruded. A small refrigerator, oven range, and counters clung to the wall. Across from it, counters mirrored the others, but where a range would sit, a sink took its place. Beyond the kitchen, in the far opposite corner, a partition wall gave little privacy to the shower, sink, and vanity. It did a good job of hiding the toilet, if the place had one.
Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel Page 7