“You got it all wrong.” He laughed bitterly. “Denisova is the brains. I’m only the broker. I’ve never killed anyone.”
Marcus saw red. He lunged forward and grabbed Hayes by the neck, shoving his gun into the soft flesh under his chin. “Tell me that again, asshole. Go ahead.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t back down. “Rick O’Keane hired a hitman to kill Daniel Giancarelli. I had nothing to do with that.”
Marcus tightened his finger on the trigger. It would be so easy to blow this lying bastard’s head off. So easy. Just a bit more pressure…
You can’t avenge Danny by killing everyone involved in his murder.
He heard Leah’s voice as clearly as if she was standing beside him. Heard the sadness, the hint of disappointment.
It won’t change anything.
Fuck. She was right. The hollowness in his chest had remained after emptying a mag into Sebastian Haly’s body. Rick’s death hadn’t cured it, either. So why was he so certain that killing Hayes would heal that pain?
He let go of the man and staggered backward, his breath coming out in ragged pants. “You goaded O’Keane to it by promising lungs for his dying son.”
Emboldened now that he didn’t have a gun pointed at his head, Hayes sat up a little straighter in the chair. He even had the nerve to use his politician’s voice. “I don’t know what O’Keane told you, but he is unstable. Unbelievable. You have nothing on me.”
“Except O’Keane confirmed what we already knew. We have Alexander Cabot’s flash drive. All of the records Cabot gave to Danny regarding you, Volkov Group, Denisova. All of it.” His hands still shaking, he holstered his gun. “We will ruin you with it.” With that, he turned away. “Let him go.”
“Wait, what?” Ian said in disbelief. “You’re not going to kill him?”
Marcus drew a breath and with his exhale, the coldness left his body. The hollow ache was still there, but he was starting to think it always would be. “No, I’m not. It’s not what Danny stood for. It’s not what he’d want.”
Jean-Luc grinned and popped to his feet. “Good.” He swiped at his forehead in an exaggerated motion of relief. “Whew. Had me a little worried there, mon ami.”
Ian swung around. “You knew he wouldn’t kill him?”
The Cajun shrugged in his nonchalant way. “I hoped. I mean, didn’t matter to me one way or another. But I knew he needed this—whatever this ended up being.” He leaned around Ian to look at Marcus. “Feel better?”
Marcus had to laugh. It came out short, abrupt, and bitter. “I don’t know if I ever will.”
Jean-Luc’s gaze softened in understanding. “You will. I swear you will. Eventually.”
Marcus rubbed at his chest. Eventually wasn’t soon enough. “I need some air.”
…
Ian glowered at Marcus’s retreating back, then swung his gaze to Jean-Luc at the sound of multiple car doors shutting out in the driveway. “You never had any intention of killing him.”
“Nope.” Jean-Luc shoved a piece of tape over Hayes’s mouth to stop his diatribe and stuffed a bag over his head. “That part of my life is better buried in the past.”
“You came along just to rein me in.”
“Yeah, I did.” Jean-Luc glanced toward the team as they entered, then pushed out a long breath and yanked Hayes to his feet. “Someone needs to. Like it or not, Ian, this team is family. We care about you.”
“Fuck you,” Ian said as the Cajun dragged Hayes over to meet up with the rest of the team.
Jean-Luc turned and pretended to catch the words like they were a thrown kiss. He pressed his hand over his heart. “Remember, I’m a language expert. I know that’s how you say, ‘I love you’ and/or sometimes ‘thank you.’ This time I’m taking it as both. You’re welcome.”
This was bullshit. After all Hayes had done, they were letting him live?
Ian distinctly remembered the feel of Danny’s blood on his hands as he’d held the man still for a last-ditch battlefield operation that didn’t work. He rubbed his hands together, still feeling it there, a constant burn like acid. He’d never had a problem with blood on his hands before that morning. He wouldn’t have had a problem with Hayes’s blood on his hands tonight. But Danny’s…that had changed him in ways he didn’t like. He felt too much now. Cared too much.
It had never been his intention to care about any of these men. He’d joined HORNET for one reason: to keep himself alive long enough to take down Defion. But somehow he’d ended up with a dog and a so-called family, and he didn’t know what to do with any of it.
He spotted Marcus out by the pool, bent double like the man had run a marathon.
Nope, not his problem.
He whistled to Tank, intending to go his own way and leave HORNET to do whatever they wanted to do. It didn’t matter to him. It shouldn’t matter.
Outside the house, he stopped short in the driveway and growled.
It shouldn’t matter…
But it fucking did.
Goddammit.
He circled the house, shoved through the gate to the pool. Marcus was still bent over, his hands on his thighs as he drew in gasping gulps of air. Guy looked like he’d been dragged through hell. There was a sharpness to him that had never been there before. He’d always been like Jean-Luc—kind of annoying, quick with a joke and a smile. And he had a truly astounding knowledge of movie quotes.
What did you even say to a guy when he was like this?
“Uh…” Ian drew a blank. “‘My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my brother. Now you die.’”
Okay, so he wasn’t winning awards for therapist of the year anytime soon.
Marcus straightened and blinked at him. “What?”
Now he felt like an idiot. “It’s a quote. From a movie.” Though he had no clue what movie. He’d only heard people say it.
“Right.” Marcus scrubbed at his face with both hands and made a sound that had Ian backing up a step.
Was he sobbing?
Nope. Uh-uh. That right there was where this whole family thing stopped. Ian didn’t do tears.
But then Marcus snorted, which set him off into a fit of laughter again. Not tears. He was laughing. At Ian. He’d ended men’s lives for that and less. But, now, instead of contemplating murder, he found his lips twitching.
“Jesus, Ian,” Marcus finally gasped. “It’s ‘you killed my father. Prepare to die.’ The Princess Bride.”
Ian shook his head at himself. Why was he even trying to speak this guy’s language? It was so far away from any language he spoke and didn’t make sense to him. “I’m saying you should’ve fucking killed Hayes. He deserves it.”
“Yeah.” Still grinning, Marcus nodded. “Yeah, he does, but not by my hand. Or yours. Let public opinion kill his career first. He’ll die an old, poor man in prison.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
Marcus glanced back through the windows into the house. “Death is a moment. Over like that.” He snapped his fingers. “This way, he’s going to lose everything and suffer for whatever time he has left. Hopefully ten, twenty years. For all the pain he’s caused, he deserves that even more than death.”
Ian stared at him, trying to comprehend his reasoning. Death was the worst thing you could do to a man. Taking away all he was, all he’d ever be. It was also the best way to solve a problem—to make sure that problem never came back to bite you on the ass. Making a guy suffer was all fine and good, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. Ian preferred permanent.
He finally shook his head. He really was a psychopath. “I don’t think like that.”
Marcus exhaled, long and slow, as if he’d been holding his breath for ages. “I didn’t, either, until just now. But you know what? I feel lighter. A weight’s been lifted.”
Weirdly enough, he e
ven appeared lighter. Before Ian’s eyes, he seemed to be rebounding, morphing back into that man with the easy smile. Something had changed in him tonight when he lowered his gun, when he chose life over death. The light that had been doused last summer had rekindled inside him, but Ian couldn’t figure out the how or why of it. Wasn’t sure he even wanted to try. He liked living in the dark.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” Marcus said suddenly. “You stepped up and helped Jesse take care of Danny in his final moments when I was too much of a wreck to do it.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“It was.” Marcus strode forward and set a hand on his shoulder, gave it a light squeeze. “More than enough. You’re a good man, Reinhardt.”
Ian didn’t like being touched, but he kept his face impassive, his flinch internal. “You don’t know me.”
Marcus held his gaze for a beat too long for his comfort. “I think I’m starting to know you better than you know yourself.” He released his grip. “When you see Mercedes, thank her for me. Leah and I wouldn’t have made it out of CAR alive without her.”
Ian felt his lip curl. “What makes you think I’ll see her?”
“Like I said, dude. I’ve figured you out.”
Bullshit.
Ian stalked back to the driveway, Tank right on his heels, as always. He snagged one of the SUVs—Jean-Luc could find another ride—and let Tank sit up front with him.
“Guy’s full of bullshit,” he told the dog, who ignored him in favor of sticking his head out the window.
Mercedes was in a medically induced coma in Italy. And he knew that only because Jesse told him—not because he’d asked or anything.
Okay, shit, he had asked. But he wasn’t going to see her. Why would he? There was no point. Xander was the only real link between them, and he was presumed dead. The only thing they had in common now was their mutual hatred of Harrison Stead and Defion. They both wanted to see Harrison’s empire topple but weren’t going to work together toward that goal. The idea was fucking ludicrous because they hated each other, too, and he trusted her even less than most.
No, he needed only one partner—who was currently in the passenger seat, slobbering in blissed-out happiness as the wind caught his ears like parachutes and flapped his jowls.
He wasn’t going to see her.
…
The ER doctor wanted to keep Leah overnight for observation, but she nixed that idea. No way in hell was she staying in the hospital. It would take an act of God to keep her away from her children tonight, and even that would only slow her down. Her babies needed her and, frankly, she needed them. So when the doctor insisted she stay, she very bluntly told him what he could do with his “observation.” It involved a word she never used around her kids and a dark orifice in the human body.
He said he’d get her discharge papers ready. That was an hour ago. What was taking so long?
She paced her little curtained-off section of the ER. If the doctor didn’t hurry things along, she’d just leave. Really, there was nothing to stop her. They had all of her billing information.
The curtain rustled and she whirled around, expecting to see her doctor. Instead, it was Marcus. Her breath caught.
“Did you…?” She didn’t have to finish. They both knew what she was asking.
He shook his head. “He’s alive and in police custody.”
All the air left her lungs in a deep sigh of relief. She stepped toward him, and he met her halfway, his arms circling her, drawing her in to the warmth of his body. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until that moment.
“Thank you.”
“No.” He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you. Without you, I could’ve done it. I would have. But I kept hearing your voice in my head, and I wanted to be a better man. For you. So that maybe…I would be good enough for you.”
“Marcus…” She didn’t know where to start. “I’m very glad you didn’t kill him, but you don’t have to change for me. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. I know exactly who you are, and I love you anyway. Flaws and all.”
He swallowed hard. “I love you, too, Leah. And, you’re right, it does make me uncomfortable. Hell, it scares me, but I’m done letting fear and anger and grief dictate my life. I want to give us a shot. I think we both deserve that at least. We’re good together.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I can’t leave HORNET, though. I know how you feel about them, but they’re family.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. I understand and I’m fine with it.”
Startled, he drew back. “You know our missions are dangerous.”
“Like I said, eyes wide open. I also know you help people that the rest of the world has overlooked. In fact…” She hesitated. She’d had an inkling of an idea burning at the back of her mind since returning home but hadn’t let it crystallize until now. It sparked a fire inside her—one she hadn’t felt since before she was a wife and a mother. Yes, this was right.
“I never wanted to be a real estate agent,” she blurted. “I fell into it after Maya was born, but it was never my passion.”
A knowing smile tugged at the corner of Marcus’s mouth, as if he already knew where she was going with this. “And what is?”
“I fix things.”
He nodded and trailed a hand down her back. “Yeah, you do. You fixed me.”
“I think I can do a lot of good in this world.” As she spoke, she warmed to the plan. “Hayes is a monster, but Aid First still did a lot of good. When we take him down, someone will need to fill the hole he left.”
“I think that hole is remarkably Leah-shaped.”
“Me, too.” She sank her teeth into her lip as she processed the possibilities. “Do you think Tucker Quentin would help? I’d like to start with Josue’s church and the people taking refuge there.”
Marcus was all-out grinning now. “I know Tuc will help. Absolutely, one hundred percent. Whatever you need, he’ll make it happen.”
“I’ll have to go back to CAR. At least in the beginning, to get things rolling.”
“You’ll have HORNET at your back when you do.”
“Oh.” She pressed her free hand to her chest as her heart fluttered wildly. “It’s terrifying. And exciting.”
He snaked an arm around her and drew her close again. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Danny would be so proud of you.”
“You, too.” She smoothed her fingers over the wrinkle that her words caused between his eyes, then stood on her toes to kiss him. “We’re good together, Marcus. This is exactly how Danny would’ve wanted it to work out. If he can’t be here, there’s nobody else he’d want by my side more than you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to hers. “I hope so, because I can’t let you go.”
When the doctor finally released her and Marcus led her out to the waiting room, she was shocked to see a crowd of people. She’d expected Regina, since she’d come to sit with the kids, but she came face-to-face with a large chunk of the team—everyone except Ian and Tank. Even Tucker Quentin. They all fawned over her, hugs and love all around.
Marcus was right—they were a family. One she could’ve been part of all along had she not been so stubborn and blinded by misplaced hatred.
After Tucker hugged her and offered his well wishes, she mentioned her idea about starting an aid organization to him on the spot.
He flashed his Hollywood smile. “That’s doable. Let me make some calls.”
Harvard and Sami were next in line. They each gave her a hug, then Harvard held up a flash drive. Nothing fancy or encrypted like the one Alexander Cabot had given her. Just a normal drive.
“We recovered everything from the original drive,” he announced. “It’s all right there in spreadsheets and expen
se reports.”
“Problem is,” Sami added, “Hayes might still have enough clout and greased palms to bury some of this if we give it to the authorities.”
“Now there are other ways to get this information out. Not exactly legal ways, but…” Harvard shrugged and pressed the drive into Leah’s palm. “It’s up to you. How do you want to handle it?”
Leah turned the flash drive over in her hand. “What would Danny have done with this information?”
“He would’ve tried the ‘right’ way,” Marcus said. “Through the proper channels.”
She nodded. “And he would’ve been frustrated by all the red tape.”
Marcus let out a small huff of laughter. “Yeah, he would’ve.”
Leah smiled fondly at the memory of her husband’s rants about the bureaucracy of the FBI, but then her smile faded. Danny had tried handling this information the “right” way. He’d tried going through the proper channels, and it had gotten him killed. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake.
She held the flash drive out to Sami. “What can you do with this?”
A grin spread across Sami’s purple-painted lips. “What can’t I do with it? That’s the better question.”
“Can you take that bastard Hayes down?”
Harvard looped an arm around Sami’s waist. “In flames.”
Satisfied, Leah turned away from them to see Marcus smirking at her.
She hitched up her chin. “What? It’s what Danny would’ve done. He trusted this team.” She scanned the group. All the hard-edged men with their soft centers and the two women—Lanie, the gorgeous Amazonian warrior ready and willing to send her men into battle, and Sami, compact and colorful and deadly with a computer. They were a good, solid group. Their hearts were in the right place and they didn’t stop fighting for anything.
“Danny trusted you,” she said again, louder so they all could hear. “It’s past time I do, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Two Weeks Later
Daniel John Giancarelli.
One year ago.
Leah still couldn’t believe it had been that long since Marcus had called her with the horrible news. It felt like yesterday. And, at the same time, like a lifetime ago. She’d been a different woman then, living a different life. She liked the woman she was now, the life she was rebuilding with her children. And with Marcus.
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