Hard to Come By

by Laura Kaye

“I know,” Derek said.

  For some reason, his answer wasn’t as surprising as she felt it should be. But her mind was spinning from how crazy and surreal she found this whole situation. If she couldn’t trust the police, who could she trust? Who were the good guys? It was like her world was a snow globe and someone had just given it a strong shake. She no longer knew which way was up. “Um, m-my purse and laptop, please,” she said. “Oh, and my cell phone is on the floor.”

  Derek retrieved the items and walked her across the parking lot to a black pickup. The same one that had followed her earlier.

  “We’ve got too many for the truck,” the big guy said, “so I hot-wired the Lexus. I’ll bring the women. And Easy’s gonna ride with me. We’ll follow you back.”

  Words were exchanged that Emilie didn’t hear as Marz helped her up into the tall backseat. Marz climbed in beside her. Her hands shook so bad that it took her three tries to secure her seat belt. Then two men jumped into the front seat and they pealed out of the lot.

  “Hey,” came Derek’s soft voice from beside her. “Are you okay?”

  Emilie braced her hands against the seat as the truck took a turn too fast. “Uh, yeah. I think. I don’t even know.” She wasn’t really sure what exactly had happened yet. Or maybe it was that her brain didn’t believe it. Either way, her body trembled and her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

  Derek gently cupped her jaw as his gaze ran over her face. “We’ll get you checked out when we get back to our place. Our driver’s name is Shane,” he said, nodding toward the handsome man with blond-tipped hair. “He’s a medic. And Nick’s girlfriend is a nurse.”

  Emilie could hardly believe that it had just been last night that she and Derek had their wonderful date. What would she have done if Derek hadn’t come? What would’ve happened to her? She stared into his brown eyes and found comfort and affection there. A warm pressure filled her chest—something that was entirely for and about him. “Okay,” was all she could say as she reached out and brushed some white dust from his brown hair and the shoulder of his gray shirt.

  The dark-haired man, Nick, turned in his seat. “I hope you’re all right.” When Nick’s gaze went from her face to the window behind her, Emilie looked over her shoulder.

  A dark Lexus followed them with the big man at the wheel.

  Turning back, she looked where Nick was holding the edge of his t-shirt against the wound on his neck. “You’re bleeding,” she said. “And so was the guy in the other car. I think you all got the worst of it.” All Emilie had were some bruises from Jeffers striking at her and a lifetime’s supply of bad dreams.

  “That was Easy,” Marz said. “He took a hit to the arm.”

  “I’ll call Becca and let her know what’s headed her way,” Nick said, facing front again and placing a phone to his ear.

  “I know there’s a lot coming at you right now, Em,” Derek said, taking her hand. “But I’ll explain everything when we get back.”

  “To your place? Where’s that?” Emilie asked, giving voice to just one of the probably million questions bouncing around between her ears.

  Derek’s smile was small and almost apologetic. “Not far.”

  Part of Emilie wanted to lose herself against the warm strength of Derek’s chest and block everything else out. But another part—the part Jack’s infidelity had damaged inside her—yelled that Derek was keeping all kinds of things from her. She knew he was ex-army, but he’d come after her, guns blazing, with a whole team of guys. Who did that? What kind of person had the ability to do that? Could he really be just a computer guy? Her head throbbed as she tried to come up with answers that made any damn sense. So she denied herself his comfort, even though she could almost feel his desire to take her into his arms.

  That yelling voice got louder and louder inside her head until she had to know more. “How did you find me, Derek?”

  He sighed and looked down at their joined hands where they rested on her denim-clad knee. Little cuts covered the back of his hand and forearm. Cuts that hadn’t been there last night. He’d gotten hurt saving her. “Did you get my message from this morning?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, staring at those cuts.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you since last night. I’m done keeping things from you, and while I think it’d make more sense if I could tell the story from the beginning, I’ll answer your questions now if you really want,” he said, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand.

  Oh, God, I was right. He is keeping things from me. Her stomach squeezed and nausea threatened. She hadn’t thought she could feel any worse than she did when they’d left that building, but she’d been wrong. “Tell me,” she whispered.

  His eyes held none of the humor or playfulness she’d associated with him since that first time they’d met. “I put a tracking device on your car. My team and I have been looking for your brother. That’s what led me to you.”

  For a moment, the words just floated there. And then they began to sink in.

  Tracking device.

  Manny.

  Led me to you.

  The pain in her head suddenly had nothing to do with Jeffers hitting her. “So, what? Like, an investigation?”

  “Yeah,” Derek said with a sympathetic gaze.

  “I thought you did computer work,” she said, her mind reeling.

  “I do.”

  She scoffed and swallowed hard against the knot suddenly lodged in her throat. “Just not the typical nine-to-five in a cubicle kind.”

  He was such a handsome man that part of her hated to see the pain and sadness on his face, but the last thing she wanted right now was to find him attractive. Not after he’d lied to her. Not after he’d used her. Not after he’d broken her trust.

  It all came back to Manny once more. After everything she’d been through—because of him—she was as angry at him as she was worried about him.

  God, she suddenly just felt angry at everyone.

  “You were just using me to get to Manny,” she said, the words gritty and bitter on her tongue. She pulled her hand away from his and crossed her arms. Hurt flashed through his eyes, and Emilie looked away so she didn’t give into the still-present desire to receive his comfort, and give hers in return. She glared out the window. “That’s why I don’t know your last name, isn’t it? You didn’t really want me to know who you are.”

  “God, I hate this,” Derek said. The regret in his voice drew her gaze back to him. “I hate that you got caught up in this. And I’m sorry.” He met her gaze, and she couldn’t deny the sincerity there even as her heart wanted to protect itself and harden toward it. Derek glanced downward, shoulders hunched, and seemed to gather himself, and then he looked her straight in the eye. “It did start out that way, Emilie, but when I showed up at your work that afternoon and said I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you, that was true. That was real.” He heaved a breath. “And my last name’s DiMarzio. Derek DiMarzio. I never offered it because I feared your brother would recognize the name if you mentioned it.”

  She turned her face toward the empty seat beside her, not wanting to get sucked in by his handsome face and pleading eyes. “It was all based on lies, Derek,” she said in a thin voice. “How do you expect me to believe it was real? Any of it?” Her mind resurrected the images of them laughing together, talking, kissing. She remembered the feeling of his lips on her breasts and his hand between her legs. Oh, God. It’d all been a show.

  “I don’t,” he said.

  Surprise rocked through her. She hadn’t expected him to validate her opinion, only to justify and turn things around to blame her. Like Jack had done. Slowly, she turned to look at him. Derek always seemed to wear his emotions on his expression and in his eyes, and right now both appeared absolutely gutted.

  His smile was so sad. “That’s my greatest fear, that you won’t be able to forgive this. And I’d understand, because I know lying to you was unforgiveable. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said, kneadi
ng at his thigh and making her wonder despite herself if his leg was hurt, too. “But I hope you’ll at least give me the chance to explain.”

  But Emilie wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to make all of this okay.

  Chapter 16

  Things with Emilie were going about how Marz feared they would. Piss poor. Not that he blamed her in the least.

  She’d been carjacked, used as a human shield, and had taken a life in self-defense. Right now, she was entitled to feel any way she wanted. But, damn, if that wasn’t a horrible backdrop against which to come clean to her.

  All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her there for the rest of the day. Proof that she was alive and safe and there with him. Proof that he hadn’t lost her in that goddamned storage facility. But even though he’d rescued her and she sat right next to him, the heat of her thigh warming his¸ he was pretty sure he’d lost her anyway.

  She looked at him, her eyes filled with distrust and accusation, and he felt the physical distance she was keeping from him like a punch to the gut. And every bit of it was of his own making.

  Another casualty of this whole catastrofuck of a situation that’d started over a year ago on a dirt road in another country. Sonofabitch.

  Shane eased the truck to a stop at the chain-link gate to Hard Ink’s parking lot. He pressed a button on a remote control and the gate swung open, and then the truck crunched over the gravel and parked.

  Emilie’s expression was ten kinds of skeptical as she took in her surroundings. Filled with abandoned industrial buildings, this neighborhood wasn’t much to look at.

  “We’re here,” he said, ignoring the throbbing in his forehead. He opened the door and hopped out, and then offered her a hand down. She ignored it and used the armrest on the door instead. Derek swallowed back the hurt and shut the door.

  Damn. He’d been so close to something great with her that he felt the loss like a . . . well, almost like an amputation. Empty as his chest felt, he was pretty sure his heart had been ripped out. But it didn’t stop it from hurting like a motherfucker.

  The whole group crossed the lot and made their way inside and up the stairs to the Rixeys’ apartment. The two women who they’d rescued from the cell looked as shell-shocked as Emilie.

  The team was barely through the door when Becca came running to Nick and gave him a onceover. His shirt was a bloody mess. “Oh, God, what happened?” she asked. Nick gathered her in his arms and hugged her in tight against his uninjured side. Charlie stood right behind her, his face a mask of concern.

  From the corner of Marz’s eyes, he saw Shane and Sara, and Easy and Jenna, repeat the same relieved reunion. And a hot, sour wave of jealousy flashed through Marz’s blood so hard and fast that he nearly doubled over. At the back of the group, Beckett was gesturing to the women they’d found to sit on one of the couches.

  “Just grazed,” Nick said to Becca. “Take a look at Easy first, ’kay?”

  Becca dashed a tear away from the corner of her eyes and nodded. “Come have a seat, Easy?” She guided him to one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar, where she’d laid out an array of medical supplies. Shane’s big first-aid kit sat on the floor beside her.

  On the trip home, Easy had stripped off his black t-shirt and wrapped it around his biceps. Together, he and Becca unwound the ruined clothing and she went to work on him.

  Marz turned to Emilie. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?” God, her face was so pale.

  Emilie put her hand to her head. “I don’t feel so good.”

  Marz cupped her cheek in his palm, and his heart lurched at getting to touch her again. And at the fact she didn’t pull away. But her skin was cold and clammy. “Come sit down,” he said, guiding her to one of the couches. She sat shakily, and Marz crouched in front of her. “You might be going into shock.”

  “Can I help with anything?” Beckett asked from over Marz’s shoulder.

  “Orange juice,” he said. “Thanks.”

  With a nod, Beckett crossed the crowded room. Marz’s gaze caught sight of Shane patching up Nick’s neck before returning to Emilie. Too many close calls today. He braced his hand on the cushion next to her and watched as Emilie looked from one person to the next around the room. “Hey,” he said, pulling her gaze back to him. “Try to slow your breathing and take nice, deep breaths.”

  She blew out a shaky breath but did as he asked.

  Beckett returned with the juice. With a thanks, Marz took the glass and put it in Emilie’s hand. “Drink some of this. Let’s try to get your blood pressure back up.” She took a long drink. “This is Beckett, by the way.”

  “Uh, hi. And thank you,” she said.

  “Welcome,” he said with a nod, and then his blue eyes turned to Marz. “So, uh, any thoughts on what we do with these women?”

  Marz turned to see the two blonds huddled on the couch together, watching everyone and looking very wary. “Just find out who they are and what their story is.” Beckett looked like Marz had just told him to don a pink tutu and do a dance. Marz almost chuckled. “Never mind. Just sit with Emilie.” He turned to her and pretended he didn’t see the wariness on her face, too. “I’ll be right back.”

  Crossing to the other couch, Marz debated what to say to put the women at ease. He sat on the coffee table in front of them. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Derek. You’re safe here. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  “Who are you?” the one with the long blond hair asked. “Why did you help us?”

  “We’re just some guys who are trying to do the right thing,” he said. “No way we were leaving you there. What are your names? How did you get in there?”

  “I’m Haven, and this is Cora. Our car broke down and we trusted the wrong people to help us,” she said, looking down at her lap and picking at a thread hanging off the hem of her jean shorts.

  Cora’s bright green eyes flashed. “It wasn’t our fault, Haven. The guy had a freaking tow truck. It looked legit.”

  Marz leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Of course it wasn’t your fault. Trust me, we’ve had a lot of interaction with the Church Gang and they’re bad news any way you define it. They prey on women and they sell them.” A gasp sounded out from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to find Emilie staring at him, clearly listening. Good. She needed to hear these things, to realize what was at stake. Marz turned back to the girls. “So it definitely wasn’t your fault, Haven. Okay?” The girl nodded, but it was the nod of someone being polite, not believing. “How long were you there?”

  Haven shook her head. “It was hard to tell because there weren’t any windows. But judging by the meals they brought us, four days.”

  “Jesus,” Marz said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you from Baltimore? Is there someone we can call for you?”

  The girls looked at each other and Marz saw it the moment they decided not to answer that question. Or, at least, not to answer it honestly. “We were passing through,” Cora said with an expression that dared him to push. “And there’s no one.”

  Sooo, clearly there was a story there. Interesting that they hadn’t asked to call the police, either.

  “Do either of you want something to eat or drink? Can I get you anything?” Marz asked.

  Hope flared in Haven’s blue eyes. “Would it, um, be possible to take a shower? I understand if not, it’s just—”

  “We can definitely make that happen. Don’t worry. And relax. You’re safe here. Promise. As soon as we get my friends patched up we’ll figure out how to best help you.”

  “Thank you,” Haven whispered, her voice cracking. Cora took her by the hand and pulled her in for a hug.

  Feeling like he was intruding, Marz looked across the room to where Sara and Charlie watched as Becca worked on Easy’s gunshot wound. Though he wasn’t making a sound, E’s expression was pinched with discomfort. Jenna stood at his side and held his other hand.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to th
e women. Was he imagining it or was Emilie’s gaze following him as he crossed to the island? Wishful thinking, no doubt. More of that punched-gut feeling rocked through him. He joined Shane and Nick as Shane finished bandaging the neck wound. “Okay, boss man?”

  Nick arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the boss. But I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

  Shane gave him a hard stare. “A scratch that would’ve been catastrophic if it’d hit an inch to the left.”

  The thought impacted Marz like a bucket of ice over his head. They’d all lost enough, and Marz refused to lose any more of these men. They were his family of choice. His brothers in every way that mattered.

  “Yeah, but it didn’t.” Nick clapped Shane on the shoulder. “Thanks for the repair job.”

  Shane nodded and turned toward Becca and Easy. “You need a hand, Becca?”

  “No,” she said without looking away from her work. “We’re doing good.”

  As Shane nodded and cleaned up, Marz and Nick walked over to Easy. “Shit, E,” Marz said. The bullet had torn clean through his deltoid.

  “Yeah,” he said, voice tight. “It’s all right.” Like hell it was. And, really, this was the last thing the guy needed to deal with. Wasn’t he already feeling bad enough?

  “Ain’t nothing about any of this all right, Easy,” Nick said, and then he looked at Becca. “How bad is it?”

  “Honestly? It was messy, but he was lucky. If the bullet had hit the bone or lodged inside the arm, we would’ve had a much trickier situation,” she said, tugging off her bloody gloves and donning a clean pair. “Jenna, would you like to help?”

  “Yes,” she said, eagerness plain in her tone and expression. “Of course.”

  Becca grabbed a long roll of gauze. “Put on a pair of gloves and come apply pressure.” The women went to work.

  Since those two were busy, that left Sara to ask about helping Haven and Cora. Marz pulled her aside and explained what was going on.

  “I’d be happy to help them,” she said. “I’m just really glad you rescued them, too.”

  Marz nodded. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” This time he didn’t have to wonder if Emilie was watching him, because her brown-eyed gaze bounced between him and the women, concern clear in her expression. A few minutes later, Sara grabbed some drinks for herself, Haven, and Cora, and guided them down the hall to the room she shared with Shane.