by Marlow Kelly
“Dude, you need to cover up.” Sinclair stood at the foot of the bed, her gloved hand covering her eyes.
He grabbed his pants. “Where did she go?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“You’re in touch with Michael, and he’s doing his computer-geek, surveillance thing.”
“Why would I be—?”
“Come on, I’m not blind. You and Michael have always had a—a thing. Tim already told me he’s inserted himself into the investigation. If that’s the case, then Michael would have called you.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I called him, and I didn’t ask him to get involved. He was already on the inside.”
“Okay, so back to my original question. Where is she?”
“Even if I did know, I’m not sure I would tell you. You were just getting your life back together, and this woman comes along and destroys everything you’ve worked for.”
“It’s not her fault. It’s Portman. He’s behind all this.” He tugged his sweatshirt over his head.
“Yeah, I know all about it, but still…”
“I need…I need…” What was it he needed? To keep Marie safe and to make love to her again. Yes, he wanted those things, but they were short term. He needed her in his life. She was intelligent, quirky, totally unique, and at this moment, she was out there without his protection.
“I know about her solar panel. It’s not your job to save the world. She left you. Maybe she doesn’t want you around.”
His gut twisted as if he’d absorbed a blow. She’d probably decided she couldn’t be with a man who had blood on his hands. He remembered her at Tim’s. The news reporter was doing a number on him. She’d placed her cold hand in his, offering him support. “If that’s what she wants, then I’ll let her go, but she has to tell me to my face. I’ve earned that much.”
“David—”
“Where is she?” He stood in front of his sister. She was tall, almost his height. Her long, fair hair hidden under a black, thermal knit hat. She wore a Canada Goose parka and snow pants that had to have set her back a small fortune. She was pissed. He could tell by her stance and the way she jutted out her chin and held her back ramrod straight.
He sighed. “Remember when we were in basic, and I requested to see you because I sensed you were hurt.”
She frowned. “Yes.”
“And you told me I had to back off. We had to distance ourselves from each other if we wanted normal lives. You planned to have a husband and a family, and that wasn’t going to happen if I didn’t let go.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I want this woman in my life. I want to wake up to her everyday. I want a home and a family. And I want to get pissed at her because I never know what she’s going to do.” He shouted the last sentence. “Now, where is she?”
Sinclair’s phone dinged. She glanced at the screen and then swallowed. “Michael just texted. She’s on the highway heading to Granite City.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“What do you mean the street cams are out?” Marshall Portman stared at the gray fuzz on the screen. He’d walked into the conference room, and there was Marie Wilson, sitting in a light blue beat-up jeep at a traffic light near the Granite City square. Then the screen had gone blank.
“I mean they’re all dead.” Spider leant back in his chair.
“You’re the hacker. Hack us back in.”
“I can’t. I think it’s a short in the wires or something. I can get the feed from the east side of the city—see.” He tapped some keys and snow-covered streets came into view. “But the west side is gone.” He switched to the gray fuzz.
“Damn it, I saw her. She was in an old rust bucket.”
Harper stomped into the room. “You called.”
“No, I didn’t call, I summoned. This is your mess. You should be in here watching these screens, checking to see if they surfaced, not sulking and whining about your nose.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“Whose fault is it? You were the Syndicate’s pick for this job, not mine. I went along with it because you’re supposed to be some hotshot, decorated soldier. You said you could take them out. Spider, give Brad the cross streets of her last known location.”
“Texting now.” The hacker’s fingers flew over the keys.
“You’ve found them?” Brad’s eyes widened with renewed interest.
“Not them—her,” Marshall spat.
“I don’t give a shit about her. I want him.”
Harper had allowed his ego to turn this assignment into a personal vendetta.
“She’s the job, not him. He’s just the distraction.”
“Quinn put both of the Paxton’s in hospital and is responsible for Mac’s death. I owe him.” Harper ground his teeth as he talked, trying to seem intimidating, but his broken nose lessened the effect.
“Yeah, I checked the video on that. He was unarmed at the airport, and he threw the weapon he took from your buddy into the garbage,” Spider supplied.
Marshall laughed and then said. “He’s unarmed? The man who made you look like a bumbling idiot isn’t even carrying a weapon.”
Harper’s face reddened.
Marshall went in for the kill. “David Quinn is a Special Forces soldier who you underestimated, and now I’m paying the price for your incompetence. If you’d killed him at Wilson’s place, the way you were supposed to, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Harper gasped. “But-but—”
“And if the Paxtons were half as good as I’d been led to believe, then they would’ve picked Wilson up at the airport. And as for Mac, I’m wondering if you shot him so you could keep the bonus.” Harper’s gaze darted to the floor, telling him he was on target. “You were supposed to be the best, and one burned-out Green Beret with no weapons has shown you up for the buffoon you are.” Maybe mouthing off to Harper in front of Spider wasn’t the best idea, but it was damn enjoyable. After all, the idiot had failed at his job and was sleeping with Marshall’s wife. He deserved to be humiliated.
“Once I complete the job, can I track Quinn down and kill him?”
“Of course. In fact, I insist on it. If you don’t kill him, you won’t get paid.” This was his chance. With his wife packing to go to Mauritius, Harper was the only link to the Syndicate, the only one left to keep track of his whereabouts.
Harper glanced at his pinging phone. “I’ve just received Spider’s text with her last location. What am I supposed to do with it, drive around until I find her?”
“At least that would be more productive than just sitting around. Spider, there must be more than just street cams. What about security cameras?”
The hacker frowned. “I’ll see what I can find. They’d have to be on Wi-Fi for me to access them.”
“Get on it. Harper, I want you to do a grid search from her last known location. She was driving a light blue jeep. A vehicle like that will stand out.
Harper strode toward the door. Can I use force?”
“Use whatever firepower you think necessary.” Discharging a weapon on the city streets was bound to cause a commotion and would keep Harper tied up for a considerable length of time.
Spider stared at Harper’s retreating back. “He’s got it bad for this Quinn guy.”
Marshall didn’t feel the need to reply. He touched the inside pocket of his blazer, feeling for his fake passport. When his phone buzzed, he answered, “Yes.”
“This is Notley.”
Portman gritted his teeth. He knew who was calling, the idiot’s name had flashed on the screen.
The chief continued. “One of my officers just spotted a woman matching Wilson’s description going into Big Sky News.”
“The station on the square?” His knees threatened to give way. Wilson was here, across the street from the PDE building. Damn it. Now there would be people focusing on the square. His car was parked in a premium spot at the front door of the building, visible to ever
yone. Normally that wasn’t a big deal, but with police on the square, watching for Wilson, someone was bound to spot him driving away, unless there was enough chaos at Big Sky News to act as a distraction.
“Do you want me to have my men keep an eye on her?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll deal with her.” He hung up and dialed Harper’s number. “She was just seen going into the news station on the square. Shut them down. Use whatever force necessary.”
“How many of us are going in?” Harper’s voice rose, his excitement at the prospect of killing a woman was palpable.
“Just you.” The idea of Brad dying at the hands of the police made him smile.
“What?”
“She’s alone. Are you saying you need help to kill an unarmed woman?”
“No. I—”
In the meantime, I’ll cut the electricity so they can’t broadcast.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course, I own the power company.”
With any luck, Harper would go in guns blazing, and the police would take him out. That was the best-case scenario. Whatever happened, Marshall would escape at the moment law enforcement stormed the building. By the time the dust settled, he would be living under a new name in Brunei.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Marie wondered if screaming might be a good idea. She’d survived a white-knuckled drive on ice-covered roads back to Granite City, only to be thwarted by the receptionist at the front desk. The woman simply refused to allow her in to see Cruz McDonald, or talk to anyone at the station. It didn’t seem to matter that Marie’s face had been plastered all over the news. The dragon with short, dark hair and buckteeth was not going to budge. “I don’t care who you are. Mr. McDonald is busy planning his next news cast.”
“But I’m Dr. Wilson. Big Sky News reported that I’d been kidnapped. I’ve come to straighten it out.”
“And I’m the Queen of Sheba,” Dragon Woman said, falling back on a clichéd answer.
“Look—”
The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Dragon answered it.
Marie seized the opportunity to run past her into the darkened studio. “Hello.”
“I said I didn’t want any interruptions,” a voice barked.
Marie blinked her eyes, but the dimness of the interior contrasted too sharply with the bright reception area, making it hard for her vision to adjust. “I’m Marie Wilson. Everyone thinks I’ve been kidnapped.”
Stage lighting above the set flickered on. “Who did you say?”
The hairs on the back of Marie’s neck tingled. This was a bad idea. She’d imagined she would be talking to someone face to face, not a bodiless voice. No, she couldn’t back out now. She was doing this for David. “My name is Dr. Marie Wilson. Reports say I was kidnapped. They were wrong. If you don’t come out and talk to me, I’m leaving.”
Dragon ran into the studio. “I’m sorry Mr. McDonald. She wouldn’t listen.”
Six people tumbled out of a room at the rear of the sound stage.
A tall, middle-aged man with a round stomach walked toward her. “That’s fine, Andrea, I’ll deal with this.” He held out his hand to Marie. “I’m Cruz McDonald.”
There was no need for the introduction. She recognized him from the broadcast she’d seen yesterday.
Cruz called over his shoulder. “Hank, hold the opening spot.” The TV studio was a large rectangle with the news set at the back and communication rooms on the left-hand side. The door to reception was in the middle of the right-hand wall and situated behind her was the audience seating. Each row was higher than the next until the last sat eight-feet high. Everything except the set was painted a matte black. Even the seat cushions were dark.
“I’m Marie Wilson,” she repeated and then blurted her story. It was strange how good it felt. It was as if she’d punched a hole in a dam and couldn’t stop the flow.
“This character, Quinn, has been protecting you?” Cruz ushered her to two chairs on the set.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a good man.”
“I got some intel on him. He served with distinction and was awarded a purple heart and a medal of honor.”
Marie wasn’t surprised to discover David was a decorated hero. All his actions and decisions had been selfless. “I want to clear his name and set the record straight.”
“You’ll have to go on live TV and tell everyone what happened.”
She shrugged. “Whatever it takes.” It didn’t matter what she had to do, or how much misfortune came her way. She was doing this for David.
“I’m not sure you can accuse the president of PDE on air.”
“Why not? I heard Portman myself.”
“How do you know it was him? Have you heard his voice before? I’m not saying you shouldn’t set the record straight about Quinn, but you can’t accuse the head of a multimillion-dollar corporation of attempted murder. He’ll sue.”
Once again her inexperience caused an error of judgment, but she would adjust. “I’ll just talk about David, my personal experiences, and show the world my solar panel.”
“Sounds good.” He smiled and patted her shoulder. “Okay, let’s do this. You sit here.” He led her to a chair on the set and then he shouted instructions to the production crew.
Marie squinted as the studio lights dimmed. A large professional video camera zoomed in, and a young, scruffy man held a boom microphone over her head.
“Hello, this is Cruz McDonald. Today we have a special guest, Dr. Marie Wilson. As you may know, there have been reports she’s been kidnapped. She’s here to set the record straight—”
Everything went black. “Hey, get the lights back on,” Cruz shouted into the darkness.
“Can’t, the power’s out,” a male voice called back.
“Is it the storm?”
‘Not sure, I’ll check.” The door of the studio opened, allowing daylight to filter in from the lobby.
“All the other businesses in the square are up and running.” A man wedged the door open, providing a permanent source of light.
“Hank, is the transmitter down?”
“Yep,” Hank answered.
Cruz pulled her out of her seat, propelling her toward the lobby. “I guess we’re shut down. Why don’t you hang around and see if we can get up and running?”
A tall silhouette appeared in the doorway to the studio. “Marie?”
“David?” He was here. She ran to him, launching herself into his arms. She shouldn’t be happy to see him, but she was. She wasn’t sure if she kissed him or if he kissed her, but before she knew what was happening, they were locked in an embrace.
He broke the kiss. “We have to leave now.”
“How did you get here?” She’d taken the only vehicle, and they’d been miles from the nearest house. In effect, she’d left him stranded, and yet he’d managed to not only get out, but also follow her, which brought to mind another question. “How did you find me?”
“Never mind. We have to go.” He ushered her into the lobby where natural light flooded through the windows.
“No, I’m staying and clearing your name. You go.” She waved her hand toward the square.
He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Not gonna happen, and don’t think about sneaking off again because—”
“I did not sneak off. I decided you’d be safer without me.” He was the most irritating man. She wanted to save him, but it was hard when he wouldn’t listen.
“Oh, how so?” He gave her a look that suggested she’d gone insane.
“Because everyone thinks you abducted me so you’re the target, not me.”
“That may be what most people believe, but we both know that isn’t true. You’re the one with a bull’s-eye on your cute little butt.”
“Look, I’m going to tell the world everything and get this whole mess out in the open. Then there’ll be no point in killing us. And i
t’s easier for people to believe you didn’t kidnap me if you’re not here,” she shouted.
He gave her his death stare.
“Don’t give me that look. How do you expect people to believe you’re not intimidating when you make that face?” she ground out.
“I’m angry, and this is my angry face. Deal with it.”
“No, you deal with this.” She poked his chest. “I’m clearing your name. We can’t run forever. Go back to your land and your bees. Live the life you planned.”
He bent his head so he was nose to nose with her. “What good is that life if you’re not in it?”
Her heart beat hard and she was light headed. Was she hearing things? “Do you really mean it?”
“Yes, I mean it. I want you in my life.”
He cared. Whatever was between them was more than a passing affair.
“Say something.” He looked down, avoiding her gaze. He was unsure of himself. And that realization made her love him even more.
She cupped his scarred cheek. “I want that, too.” Then she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
A statuesque woman wearing a black knit cap pushed her way between them. “Hi, I’m Sinclair. We’ll do the introductions later.” She turned to David. “I just got a text from Michael. They know she’s here.”
“Okay, let’s go. Move,” he ordered.
“I’m not going,” Marie countered.
“What do you mean you’re not going? There’s no power. They’ve been shut down. There’s no way to broadcast,” David shouted.
“Listen to him,” Cruz said, entering the reception area from the studio. “Unless you have the mother of all batteries on you, I can’t help you.”
Marie must’ve lost her mind. That was the only explanation for her taking so long to think of a solution. “I do…well, not a battery. I have a solar panel. Actually, it’s more than that. It works—”
“We don’t have time for you to explain. If you’re going to do this, you have to do it now.” David grabbed her hand.
Marie tugged free. “Listen, you’ve done your job. You’ve protected me and kept me safe. It’s my turn to look after you.”