Her Wicked Hero

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “I needed to see you.” She shuddered. “I needed to see if you were real.”

  He seemed to be saying so much with his eyes, but maybe she was reading it wrong. She couldn’t stand it. She needed to lighten the mood.

  “Dante, huh?”

  “Occasionally. Depends on the circumstances.” His voice went through her like liquid heat. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did. Was his hand squeezing her waist a little tighter?

  “How are you?” His hand came up to trace the curve of her cheek. “I can barely see the bruising on your face, so that’s good. But you were limping when you came in, how’s your leg? Your head?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Marcia, you’d say you were fine if you were on fire.”

  She snorted a laugh.

  “So, tell me the truth, what did the doctors say?”

  “I got the all clear on the concussion. My leg is infection free, that was their big worry.”

  “But?” he prompted.

  “They recommended R.I.C.E.”

  “Sounds really familiar,” Zed chuckled. “Rest, ice, compression, and elevation.”

  “Yep, that’s it. The swelling has gone down, but I’m still limping. They said the week after next, I should be back to normal.”

  “Hunter told me Homeland Security has been questioning you. How hard of a time have they been giving you?”

  She sighed, it was time for business. “Not a hard time, exactly,” she prevaricated.

  “Bullshit. Three days? They’ve been questioning you for three fucking days?”

  Marcia pressed up against his chest and reluctantly, left the comfort of his embrace. She sat down in the chair beside the bed. “Okay, three days was overkill. I don’t know what their problem was either. They treated me like I was on trial or something. I had to tell them over and over again everything Raymond ever said.”

  “That should have taken three hours,” Zed said as he leaned forward and speared her with a fierce glance.

  “I agree,” she grinned. “But I made them work for it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was actually after four hours, I gave them the silent treatment.”

  “You asked for a lawyer?”

  “Nope,” she smiled broadly, remembering the two agents’ frustration and eventual fury.

  “You’re killing me here, Marcia, I see your smile, and it’s absolutely diabolical. What in the hell did you do?”

  “Nurul and Hana had been left behind in Borneo. I told them until they got her on the phone with a translator, I wasn’t going to talk to them again. That’s part of the reason I was there so long,” she admitted.

  Zed shouted with laughter. “How is Nurul? How’s the baby?”

  “They’re with Nurul’s auntie. The doctor on the aircraft carrier made sure Hana’s arm was set properly, and they had gotten her back to her family. She’s still really tore up about her dad.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Zed reiterated what he’d said in the jungle.

  “She’s going to be staying with her aunt. I took down all of her contact information. I’m going to send them some funds.”

  “Marcia,” Zed frowned, “you don’t have to mother the Western Hemisphere.” He held out his hand, and she reached out and took it. He made her feel less alone. How funny was that? She had more people in her life than most.

  “It’s not a big deal, Zed. With their cost of living, they don’t need much, and I get interest payouts every year from my parent’s life insurance policies. That’s what paid for my college.”

  He just shook his head. “So that’s why it took three days to question you, huh?”

  “Not entirely. Day three was spent asking all the same questions they asked on day one. It was stupid. They really ticked me off. They were A-Holes.”

  Zed’s lips twitched.

  “What?”

  “Has it worked? Do Brockman’s two younger daughters not swear?”

  “No,” Marcia sighed, “both of them have potty mouths, sometimes. It really yanks my chain.”

  “How about when grown men swear?” Zed asked carefully.

  “I couldn't care less,” Marcia grinned. “I’m just about setting an example. However, I will say I would prefer the adults try to keep it clean around the kids.” Marcia waited to see how Zed would take that, and she didn’t have to wait long.

  “I agree. That’s part of what we do in the military, set an example.”

  She thought about it. She’d been to bars in Virginia when she’d gone out with Rick, and some of the military guys had been pretty rowdy and rude. But then again, how many times had she been out walking around campus or just seeing the sights and come across some of the politest men and women possible?

  “What are you thinking?” Zed asked.

  “I’m thinking people are people,” she answered. “Good, bad, and indifferent, they come in all flavors. I went to Virginia State, and not all the military I ran into were setting an example, but then again, many were. I guess I was just painting a lot of people with the same brush.”

  “You live in Alexandria now, don’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “We were briefed on everybody who was on the yacht. Just the basics. But it made it sound like you were living with the Brockman family.”

  “I am. Ever since Mrs. B. died, I’ve been living there. It dovetailed with when I graduated.”

  “So, you’re the girl’s nanny?”

  Marcia started to giggle. Zed scowled at her, and that made her really start to laugh.

  “What’s so damn funny?”

  “I have a B.S. in Mathematics. I’m currently working as a junior economist at JP Morgan. The C.I.A. wanted me to work as an intern.”

  “Thank God, you turned them down.”

  “Why?”

  “Once they realized the type of woman you were, they’d have you in the field in an instant. It’d scare the hell out of me.”

  “You don’t think I’m capable?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “Didn’t you hear me? They’d be crazy not to have you in the field, you’d be excellent. My hair would go white overnight.”

  She leaned closer. His raven black hair was cut short, but she could see just a bit of a curl on the ends. “There’s not a bit of gray,” she protested.

  His black eyes turned liquid. “I hadn’t met you.”

  Marcia’s breath held. He hadn’t really said that, had he? He didn’t mean anything by it, did he?

  “I’m temporarily assigned here in San Diego. I have about five more months here before I return to my team in Virginia,” he said seriously.

  “You live in Virginia?” she breathed.

  He nodded his head. “Small world, huh?”

  She smiled slowly.

  He gave her that wicked grin she remembered from the jungle. “Don’t make any dates before I get back into town. Consider your dance card full. I’ve already arranged with Amelia to transfer some of my physical therapy time back to Walter Reed.”

  “You’ll be in Virginia?” she grinned. “When?”

  “Three weeks, so you can consider me booked up until that time.”

  “How’d you know what I was going to ask?”

  “I just knew.”

  9

  Buy flowers. Pick up Christie from ballet. E-mail the report to Ms. Franklin. What was she forgetting? Oh yeah, hit the mall, so she could get some of Lesley’s favorite bath bombs and the cashmere blanket, how could she have forgotten?

  “Excited much?” she asked herself.

  Marcia admitted she was both excited and scared. This was the third time Lesley had been in rehab, and she was praying the third time was the charm. It did seem different, for one it was longer, and two, Lesley had already worked out a plan for aftercare which she had never done before.

  She’d even called Marcia and told her to get rid of all the sweets in the house. That was the reaso
n she hadn’t baked a cake. Please God, please God, please God say this time it was going to be different. Thinking about Lesley’s aftercare reminded Marcia she needed to prod Mr. B. to call Debbie’s psychologist. She really thought they might need to up the appointments from one to two a week. Borneo still had its grips on the young girl.

  Marcia pulled into the mall parking garage and couldn’t find one single spot until she reached the top level which is where she parked her little Honda. An hour. You need to be at ballet in an hour, so get your ass in gear. She practically ran to the entrance. She wanted to get things done in forty-five minutes, so she could call back Zed and find out exactly when his plane was going to land in three days.

  Shopping was a blur. She was just happy she wasn’t snarky to the lady in front of her at the beauty and bath store who insisted on telling the clerk her life story when making a five-dollar purchase. She was still thinking about that when she scooted past the white van parked perpendicular to her car.

  “Marcia?”

  Her blood ran cold. She looked up and saw Raymond’s arm reaching out toward her as another man started to open up the side door of the van. How did he know her real name?

  “Rape!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and started running.

  She didn’t see anyone, not one single person. Her head swung wildly. Stairs? Elevator? Ramp? Definitely ramp.

  “Rape!” she kept screaming and running.

  Marcia saw stars when she hit the pavement. A big body was on top of her. Then she felt a hand covering her mouth, her nose. She couldn’t breathe. She shook her head back and forth, trying to work the hand loose. When it moved, she took a bite.

  “Motherfucker!”

  He slammed her head into the pavement.

  “I’ve called the police,” a woman yelled.

  Marcia felt herself hauled up off the ground. Raymond was going to take her. Over her dead body. She struggled like mad, clawing, kicking, she turned her head to bite.

  “I’ve got a gun, if you don’t let her go, I’ll shoot,” the woman sounded resolute.

  She heard a shot, then another.

  A muffled scream, then the sound of tires squealing and getting closer.

  “Don’t think you’re getting away, Girly.” Marcia saw the van beside her. Oh God, Raymond was trying to push her in. She grabbed the side. No, she wasn’t going. She wasn’t. Her face met cement.

  Was that a siren?

  He was getting pretty damn sick of seeing her face bruised and scraped. Marcia looked so damn tiny in the hospital bed.

  “I don’t think we’ve met before,” the older man said as he got up out of the reclining chair in the corner of the hospital room.

  “Zed Zaragoza,” he said as he held out his hand.

  The man nodded. “Harold Brockman. I haven’t heard enough about you, Master Chief.”

  “Something tells me, you’ve read a lot about me though.”

  “You’d be right.” He set down the book he’d been reading.

  “How is Marcia doing?” Zed asked. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “About that, how did you hear?”

  “Kane McNamara, he’s a member of Night Storm, his specialty is―”

  “I know what his specialty is,” Brockman interrupted. “My department tried to recruit him a couple of years ago. So, you had him watching Marcia, did you? Did you think Raymond would come after her? And if you did why in the hell didn’t you give me a heads up?” his tone turned to ice.

  “I didn’t think Raymond would come after her, Sir. If I did, you can be damn sure I would have had ensured she was protected,” Zed said with calm authority. “I expect you and I are going to be kicking ourselves for years we didn’t see this coming.” Zed noted Brockman’s flinch.

  “Yes, I will,” he agreed. “That still doesn’t tell me why you had her under surveillance.”

  “Not under surveillance. Just had her flagged so if anything came up, I would be notified. As soon as the police report came in, I had a copy and was making my flight arrangements.”

  “I heard something about her dance card being full?” Brockman gave a half smile.

  “I’m taking her back to San Diego with me as soon as she’s discharged from the hospital.”

  The man’s smile disappeared. “You are not.”

  “Yes, I am. You don’t want to put your family at risk.”

  “Marcia is part of my family,” Brockman said tightly.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be an ass about this, but you live with two minors, and Marcia’s been damned worried about Lesley coming home. It doesn’t sound like she’s in any shape to take on the stress of having twenty-four/seven guards.”

  “Even if Marcia goes with you, my family is still going to have round-the-clock protection.”

  Zed rubbed his neck and rolled his stiff right shoulder. “Sir―”

  “Call me Harold.”

  Zed nodded. “Harold, we need to get to the bottom of why Raymond still wants someone close to you. Is it money? Is it to blackmail you for information? What? But whatever it is, I think we can both agree on one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Marcia bested him in Borneo. You read his file. He hates women. Marcia is now his target to get to whatever he wants. Now, Harold, what does he want?”

  “It’s not him, it’s Jefferies,” Brockman sighed. “He used to work with me at the NSA. He was on assignment in Beirut and supposedly died in a car bomb. When Marcia said Raymond mentioned him, we knew we were in trouble.”

  “So, Raymond has focused on Marcia to get to you because he’s a sociopath, and he’s the conduit Jefferies has employed. That still doesn’t tell me what Jefferies wants.”

  “The projects we worked together on are complete. He shouldn’t know about the things I’m doing now I’ve retired.”

  Zed gave a grim laugh. Even though there were plenty of things that should be above his pay grade, it didn’t mean he wasn’t able to piece together what was going on, and he was a grunt compared to Jefferies.

  Brockman flushed. “I know,” he said. “Unfortunately, nothing is sacrosanct. When it was just Raymond and some of the others, I thought it was revenge for the screw-up with the Saudi palace, but as soon as Jefferies was mentioned, I realized it has to be the Malaysian cult or the fissionable material.”

  “What’s your best guess?”

  “I have my men looking into it.”

  Zed stared at him, then finally nodded. He didn’t tell him, but he was still going to have Dex and Kane work on it as well.

  “So, it’s agreed, Marcia is coming with me.”

  “Son, nothing was agreed,” Brockman protested.

  Again, Zed stared at him. Brockman gave it one last shot. “You could be deployed.”

  “You forget, I’m still recovering. I won’t be mission ready for another five weeks. I’m doing PT at this point. Her little butt is going to be glued to a chair next to me.”

  “She’s not going to go for it.”

  “How do you plan to keep her here, guilt?”

  Brockman’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

  “If Marcia thinks she’s needed, you can manipulate her to do anything even if it isn’t in her own best interests. Has living with you for the last two years been the right thing for her?”

  In the last four weeks, Zed had talked to Marcia on the phone ten times. He’d gotten a pretty good idea of what made her tick, and her heart often overwhelmed her own self-interests.

  “You have no idea the blow that little bastard Rick Parsons was on her self-esteem, she needed a safe spot to land,” Brockman said defensively.

  “Really? Seems to me, she went from the frying pan into the fire. I understand her being there for your family after your wife died was the right thing, but two years?” Zed raised his eyebrow.

  Brockman’s face turned red. Then he walked over to where Marcia rested and looked at her for long moments. He came back to face Ze
d.

  “She makes it so easy. My God, there’s nobody like her. I was a mess after Margaret died, and then Lesley turning to opioids, then to heroin. You can’t imagine.” Zed flinched at the man’s words. “Christie and Debbie soaked in Marcia’s love when I just wasn’t emotionally available. I didn’t see how selfish I was.”

  Zed put his hand on Brockman’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “I’m going to make this right.” Zed’s eyes twinkled, and Brockman saw it.

  “What are you looking so smug about?”

  “I had a bet with myself, and I now get to buy a new snowboard.”

  “You knew I was going to rectify things with Marcia? How?”

  “I’ve read your books. The man who wrote The Road To Peace couldn’t help but try to do the right thing.” Zed looked over his shoulder at Marcia and smiled softly. “She’s not going to go willingly, and I would hate for your role as her surrogate father to suffer.”

  “Zed, this is my mess, I’ll straighten it out. I’m more than capable of taking it on the chin.” Zed didn’t think the man was aware he was rubbing his chin as he said it.

  “Yeah, but you trying to convince her won’t be expedient. It will take too much time.” Zed thought through various scenarios, discarding many until a plan began to coalesce. “I’m just going to take her.”

  “How do you plan to get an unwilling woman on a plane?”

  “Good old-fashioned emotional blackmail.”

  She jerked awake. It was one of those helpless jarring movements your body makes that is so disconcerting. Marcia’s eyes slammed open to bright lights, and she felt defenseless and exposed. She turned her head back and forth trying to see where she was and who was with her.

  “Easy,” a low familiar rumble came from her left. Her hand was gently squeezed. “You’re with friends, Querida.”

  Just that easily her fright eased.

  “Zed?” she croaked.

  “I’m here.” The bright lights were dimmed, and she could see his face.

  “Who else is here?”

  “I’m here too, Marcia,” a familiar voice whispered. Lesley Brockman peered over Zed’s shoulder.

  Marcia reared up in the bed, then let out a shrill cry of pain which Lesley echoed. Zed was there to help guide her back down onto the hospital bed.