by Karen Rose
Lisette turned into Cal’s arms, starting to cry again, her tears a mixture of relief, fear and adrenaline, Scarlett thought. She understood. She’d held her sobbing mother when the surgeon told them Phin would be all right. She’d cried those tears herself when no one was looking.
Marcus sank into his chair, his grip on Scarlett’s hand nearly punishing. He dropped his face into his free hand, shuddering as he tried to hold back his own emotion. Scarlett stroked his hair with the hand he wasn’t holding, pulling his head to rest his cheek against her stomach, her heart catching when he turned his head to bury his face against her, wrapping his arm around her waist. There was nothing sexual about his embrace. He sought only comfort. From the way he held on, Scarlett wondered how long it had been since anyone had given him comfort. Or, like her, how long since he’d allowed himself to accept it.
At that moment she didn’t care who saw them, wouldn’t have pushed him away even if Lynda Isenberg had walked in with the commissioner himself. Especially when she felt the front of her thin cotton shirt grow damp. He was crying too and didn’t want anyone to see. She’d make sure they didn’t.
Her own eyes stinging, she bent so that her lips brushed his ear. ‘You heard the doctor,’ she murmured thickly. She curled around him, cradling him to her as he clung. ‘You probably saved Phillip’s life. You didn’t cause what happened, nor are you responsible. Whoever broke into your apartment and shot Phillip is responsible.’
His arm around her tightened and his shoulders heaved, the movement nearly imperceptible.
‘You listen to me, Marcus O’Bannion,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Every person on your team knew the risk. Accepted the risk. Whoever’s pissed off enough to kill you could be angry because of something one of the others did to expose him. You are not the sole owner of whatever misplaced guilt you’re feeling. You will not shoulder the burden. I won’t let you.’ She kissed his neck, just below his ear, relieved by the muted chuckle that rumbled in his throat. ‘He’ll be all right, Marcus. You have to believe that.’
His shoulders sagged on a sigh that warmed her belly through her shirt. ‘You play dirty, Detective Bishop,’ he said quietly, the muscles in his face tensing as he clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his face against her middle, nuzzling her while he dried his tears.
‘Only when I have to,’ she said. ‘So don’t make me.’
One side of his mouth lifted ruefully when he pulled away, releasing her hand to scrub his palms over his face. She surreptitiously buttoned her jacket to hide the dampness on her shirt. She expected he’d be wearing a stoic face when he lowered his hands, but what she saw stole her breath. She’d seen plenty of emotion in his dark eyes – pain and desire, anger and guilt. But now he looked at her with an unmasked need so profound, so . . . hungry that it shook her, froze her where she stood. Burned her from the inside out. Made her want to reach for him again, but this time it wouldn’t be about comfort.
And she would have done it had Diesel not politely cleared his throat behind her. ‘Do you need us anymore?’ he asked. ‘Cal and I need to get back to the paper. We have an edition to print.’
Scarlett drew a breath, closed her eyes to compose herself. Contain herself. When she opened her eyes, Marcus was still gazing at her like he was a starving wolf. With an effort she pivoted on her heel to look up at Diesel. ‘I think I have enough to get started. I may have more questions later.’
Diesel’s brows were raised in amusement. ‘I take it you’re not going to arrest us.’
Scarlett blinked cluelessly. ‘For what? I have received no formal complaints against you. Please keep it that way.’
With a grin, Diesel walked around the table and kissed Lisette on the cheek. ‘I’ll be back, Lissy. They won’t let us into ICU for a while anyway. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll come back and take the night shift so you can sleep.’
‘I don’t think I’ll sleep,’ Lisette said, sniffling. ‘I think I’ll just watch him breathe.’
‘Come on, honey.’ Cal led Lisette to the door. ‘Let’s go back and tell Gayle.’
Marcus was right behind Cal, pausing at the door when he realized Scarlett hadn’t moved from where she stood. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
She started to say yes, but realized that Stone still sat at the table, his arms folded across his broad chest, his features bent in a suspicious scowl. ‘In a minute,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to Stone first.’
Because Stone clearly wanted to talk to her. Marcus gave his brother a warning glare before turning to her, that hungry look back in his eyes. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby, then we can start working on the list.’
The list was not what she was thinking about when he looked at her that way. But the list was what would keep him alive, so she nodded. ‘Stay away from the windows.’
Marcus gave her a quick salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
Twenty-four
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 10.35 P.M.
Scarlett sat down across from Stone, and folded her hands in front of her. For a long minute neither of them spoke, Stone glaring at her . . . well, stonily.
Scarlett broke the silence. ‘I understand,’ she said.
He smiled mockingly. ‘Exactly what is it that you understand, Detective Bishop?’
‘That you protect him just like he protects you. That you don’t trust me.’ She hesitated. ‘I know what happened twenty-seven years ago.’
Fury roiled behind his eyes. ‘You don’t know jack shit.’
‘I know that you were kidnapped when you were a small child and almost died. I know your baby brother did die. I know that you lost another brother nine months ago and I understand that you nearly lost your only surviving brother three times today.’
A muscle in his cheek twitched as he ground his teeth. ‘How did you know about Matty?’ he finally asked.
Matty. Matthias’s nickname. ‘Marcus told me to Google your old last name and Lexington. I did, so I know what the papers covered. No more.’ She watched his agitation begin to fade. Marcus had told her that some of the story was Stone’s to tell, and she’d suspected that Stone had been worried about personal details Marcus might have shared with her. ‘I’m sorry you lost your brother, Stone. Both brothers. I have brothers too. I can’t imagine losing any of them, although I came awfully close a time or two. Which I know doesn’t mean anything to you, but I want you to know that I understand that you’re worried about Marcus.’ She sighed. ‘Look, I can’t promise that everything will be roses, rainbows and happily-ever-after between Marcus and me, but I can promise that I won’t hurt him.’
‘You won’t mean to,’ Stone said wearily, all his anger gone. Or at least stowed. ‘You should know that I told him to take you out for a spin and then dump your ass.’
She frowned. ‘Oh really?’
‘But he said he couldn’t. Apparently this . . . thing he has for you, whatever it is, goes deep.’ He leaned forward, looking her squarely in the eye. ‘Very deep. Do you understand that?’
Scarlett drew a steady breath, unsurprised. ‘Very deep’ was what she’d seen in Marcus’s eyes just minutes before. ‘Very deep’ was what she’d felt since she’d first heard his voice. It was a connection she’d had with no other man. ‘Yes, Stone. I understand. I also understand that you’re asking me if I feel the same way.’
Stone didn’t budge. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’
Stone shook his head, clearly skeptical. ‘You don’t know him.’
‘Perhaps not. But I know that I want to know more.’
Stone’s shoulders slumped. ‘My brother deserves to be happy, Detective. Can you promise to make him happy?’
The sadness in his voice, the forlorn hopelessness there, tugged at her heart, making her want to promise that his brother would never be sad or lonely again. But she wouldn’t lie.
‘I can’t,’ she said with regret, ‘but only because I learned a long time ago that you can’t be responsible for someone els
e’s happiness.’
He nodded thoughtfully, surprising her. ‘That’s true,’ he murmured.
‘I can promise to take care of him, and if that means protecting him from himself, that’s what I’ll do.’
Stone studied her for a very long moment, then nodded, still scowling but less so than before. ‘Maybe you do know him, after all.’ He stood up, looking exhausted and afraid. ‘Call me if he decides to go off and be a damn hero,’ he said quietly. ‘He does that way too often.’
‘I’ve figured that out myself,’ she said wryly, wringing a ghost of a smile from his lips that was gone almost before it started. ‘And yes, I’ll call you.’
A sober nod. ‘Thank you, Detective. And please don’t forget to arrange for protection for Delores.’ He swallowed hard. ‘She deserves to be safe and happy too.’
‘I’ll take care of it as soon as I get to my car. Stone, one question. That young woman back with Gayle, that’s her niece?’
His expression instantly hardened. ‘Jill.’
‘What’s her role in all of this?’
‘She makes trouble,’ he said curtly. ‘Marcus gave her a job because Gayle asked him to, but the girl has an attitude that makes me want to—’ He bit back the next words.
‘I wanted to smack her too,’ Scarlett said, and saw his fleeting smile once again. ‘She’s not part of your team?’
‘No. Marcus doesn’t trust her.’
‘Neither do I. How does the girl know about the threats?’
‘She broke into Gayle’s computer when her aunt was sick. Claims she was just trying to help, and she may have been, but she’s got her sights set on Marcus. She resents him because Gayle mothers him.’
‘And you?’
He pushed away from the table. ‘She just wants to get in my pants, which Diesel thinks is a real scream. Me, not so much. Spoiled little girls have never been my type.’
Scarlett blinked up at him. ‘Um, I meant, does Gayle mother you?’
He blushed, making him look ten years younger. ‘Oh. Right. Well, not really. I’m not exactly the type to be mothered by anyone. I need to go now. With Diesel and Cal back at the paper, I’m on Jill-sitting duty.’
‘Because she knows about the list,’ Scarlett guessed, and he nodded. ‘What are you afraid she’ll do?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t trust her not to use it to hurt Marcus, especially after her little outburst in the waiting room. The kid needs to be taken down a notch or two.’
‘Then do it,’ Scarlett told him.
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t be gentlemanly about it. Marcus is the nice brother. I just . . . am not. Figure this out, please, and find out who’s trying to kill my brother.’
‘Are you not targeted by any of the threats, Stone?’
He shrugged. ‘Some. Most of the more dangerous investigating happened while I was out of the country covering other stories. The really vile assholes are out for Lisette, Phillip and Marcus of course.’
‘What about Diesel?’
‘Diesel hacks and lends muscle when needed. He’s not really a writer, although he pinch-hits from time to time. I wanted to bust his face for keeping this threat list a secret from me. I had no idea that so many people were out for Marcus’s blood.’
She came to her feet, fascinated by this side of Stone. ‘When did you find out?’
‘Right after we lost Mikhail. Marcus was laid up and Cal needed help.’
‘So you stepped forward.’
He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I was here. Didn’t have anything better to do.’
Scarlett smiled at him kindly. ‘You’re a fraud, Stone. You want everyone to believe you’re a Neanderthal, but there’s a good guy in there.’
The look he gave her was witheringly cold. ‘I’m no fraud, Detective. I’m not a good guy. I’m not a nice guy. Most of the time I’m not even a very smart guy. But I do love my family and I will do anything to keep them safe.’ He took a step backward toward the door. ‘If you want to help me look like a good guy, then keep Marcus safe. Please.’ Then he was gone, leaving Scarlett staring at the empty doorway, her mouth open but with no words to say.
Sadness welled up in her, then helpless rage. At least she’d been old enough to understand when she’d found Michelle’s body. Those boys had been traumatized as children so that some bastard kidnapper could get rich quick. Six and eight years old. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for them.
She gently pushed the thought of a traumatized eight-year-old Marcus aside, replacing it with the memory of the man who’d returned to that alley this morning, risking a scandal. Exposure. Maybe even prosecution, were his team’s activities to come to light – to the wrong person, anyway. All because he wouldn’t leave Tala Bautista alone in the dark.
This was the man she’d dreamed of for nine months. The man who was waiting for her right now. The man who made everything go tight and hot inside her every time she thought about the way he’d looked at her, like he could never get enough.
The man who wants to have me every way there is until I scream his name.
She was taking him home as soon as she cleared this hospital. She started down the hall, fishing her cell phone out to check her messages as she walked.
‘Detective Bishop?’
Scarlett looked over her shoulder to see Phillip’s surgeon coming up behind her. Her feet came to a cold stop. ‘Oh no,’ she whispered. ‘Please don’t tell me Phillip Cauldwell is dead.’
‘No, no. His condition is the same. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’ He pulled a small plastic bag from his coat pocket and handed it to her. ‘A bullet taken out of Mr Cauldwell’s abdominal cavity. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of his sister and co-workers.’
Yes. The bullet was mangled, but recognizable as the same type that Carrie Washington had taken from Tala’s body that morning. ‘Thank you, Doctor. I’ll get this to Ballistics ASAP. We may just have a match to this morning’s killing.’
Which still didn’t fit, she thought. Because Tala knew her attacker.
‘I thought you might say that, because whoever fired that bullet didn’t want it found. There were three gunshot wounds, the first two superficial. The one in Mr Cauldwell’s arm was a through and through, the other a shallow wound in his side where it had no danger of hitting anything important. That one had been dug out with a knife. The third bullet was the abdominal wound. There are deep gouges in Mr Cauldwell’s tissue, like his attacker had stabbed at the thing. I’m not sure what happened, but it looked like the shooter tried to dig it out and gave up.’
Scarlett smiled, grimly satisfied. ‘What happened was Phillip Cauldwell had already stabbed the shooter in the arm. He was bleeding and had to run.’
‘Good for Phillip Cauldwell,’ the surgeon said coldly. ‘Hopefully he took the bastard’s arm off.’
Scarlett lifted her brows. ‘You sure you’re not a cop, Doc?’
‘Marine Corps.’
‘Ah. Well thank you,’ she said, sliding the baggie into her pocket. ‘What are his chances, really? Please don’t give me the “twenty-four hours will tell” song.’
‘Before you told me he’d stabbed the guy, I would have said they were fairly lousy. But it looks like he’s a fighter, so better than lousy.’
‘Hey, better-than-lousy ain’t so bad. Thanks for the bullet.’ She gave him a wave and jogged down the hall to where Marcus waited.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 10.55 P.M.
Marcus was getting impatient, and a little worried. Scarlett had promised she’d only be a few minutes, but it had been much longer than that. He was tempted to go back to the little consultation room and make sure that she and Stone hadn’t taken swings at each other.
Instead he called his brother’s cell. ‘Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Just getting my car. Gayle said that she’s going to keep Jill with her for the night, so I have a temporary reprieve from b
abysitting. Why? Where are you?’
‘Waiting for Scarlett in the lobby. I didn’t see you go past.’
‘I parked at the ER entrance. Your detective and I didn’t have a knock-down-drag-out if that’s what you’re trying to ask,’ he said mildly. ‘I don’t know where she is.’
The tone of Stone’s voice when he mentioned Scarlett had changed, become . . . maybe not friendly, but not hostile either. Perhaps subdued. ‘Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.’
A little pause. ‘I’m okay. Listen . . .’ He blew out a breath. ‘She’s not Satan, okay?’
The statement caught Marcus by surprise and he choked on a laugh. ‘No, she’s not. Look, I’m not trying to get into your business, but after Phillip, I’d like to know where you are. Just in case whoever is trying to get to me tries to hurt you.’
‘I’m not Phillip,’ Stone said, no longer mild. He’d grown cold and angry again. ‘I can take care of myself every bit as well as you can. I don’t need you to babysit me.’
‘Okay,’ Marcus said cautiously. ‘Can you at least call in every so often so I know you’re okay? You can think about it as babysitting me, if you want to. Please, Stone. I need to know you’re okay.’ I’ve always needed to know you’re okay.
‘All right,’ Stone finally said. ‘I’ll call in.’
Marcus hung up unhappily and began pacing again, watching for Scarlett. He’d held it together for far longer than he normally would, but he was starting to get antsy, needing to get out of this hospital. Combined with his worry over Stone and the rest of his team . . . And his mother. He couldn’t forget about her.
He’d called her before he’d called Stone, to tell her about Phillip so she didn’t hear it on the news. Audrey had answered, her tone flat when she’d said Della had turned in early and couldn’t be disturbed. That usually meant she had taken a sleeping pill, or two or three. Or she’d had a drink or two. Or a whole fifth.