by Debra Webb
“Okay.” She tried to swallow, didn’t have any luck. Where was Shane?
Her questions dissolved like so much sugar in the rain when the paramedics moved her onto a gurney. She bit down hard on her lip to hold back a groan at the pain. A crowd of people had gathered around the damaged car and her. Great. She’d always wanted to be a side show for the morbid curiosity of onlookers. Another jolt of pain and she forgot all about them.
As they loaded her into the ambulance, she saw Shane. He was arguing with the paramedics. The next time she saw him he was sitting on one side of her with a paramedic.
She decided to try for some answers. “What’s the damage?” She looked directly at the paramedic as she asked. Shane would only give her a glossed-over version. He’d tell her she was fine and that would be that.
“Ma’am, you have about a six-inch laceration on your right side. We have the bleeding under control and the wound temporarily closed. We’ll do a few X-rays just to be sure there’s nothing in there that shouldn’t be, then we’ll do the permanent closure.”
“What’s your instinct telling you?” She had a right to know. If she was going to need surgery she might as well be prepared.
“Your vitals are stable. That’s a good sign. But when you’re in the blast zone of an explosion, it’s kind of like getting caught in a hurricane where a flimsy broom straw can be driven into a tree trunk. It’s best not to take any chances.”
“What about him?” She looked from the paramedic to Shane and back.
The paramedic grinned. “He’ll get checked out, too. But he appears to be doing just fine.”
“Good.” Mary Jane closed her eyes without meeting Shane’s gaze. She was pretty sure they had given her something for pain in the IV since she felt a little woozy and the pain was practically gone.
She was really glad she wasn’t dead. The arrangements weren’t made and there wasn’t anyone left to take care of those things.
Who took care of that sort of thing for someone who had no one?
She would have to look into that. Assuming she didn’t die before she got the chance.
Was this the way Rebecca had lived those last few weeks?
ANN MARTIN MET SHANE AT THE hospital with a change of clothes for Mary Jane. She’d been stitched up, but the doctor on duty wanted a second set of X-rays just in case. Shane was forced to wait in the corridor while the technician did her work. He didn’t like it, but there was only a door between him and Mary Jane, so he was dealing with it.
“You look like hell, Allen.” Ann surveyed him from head to toe and back.
“Feel like it, too.” Scraped and bruised mostly. The sudden lunge to the ground had his hip acting up, but he’d get over that.
“And if I were you,” Ann said with a smirk, “I’d be damned glad that Ric Martinez is out of the country. He’s going to want to kick your butt when he sees his Mustang.”
Shane took the shopping bag containing the change of clothes from her and flashed a fake smile. “All I can say to that is, he’d better bring his lunch because it’s going to take him all day.”
Ann laughed. “Hey, I hear Martinez had a similar incident when he first started working with the agency. Something about Ian Michaels’s SUV. I’d much rather have Martinez fired up than Ian any day.”
Shane couldn’t argue that. No one wanted to be on the bad side of the enigmatic Ian Michaels. Maybe it was the vaguely European accent or the way he could cut a hole through a guy with one look.
“Just so you know,” Ann went on, “Victoria has already called her insurance claims adjuster. She’ll have Martinez a brand-spanking-new car just like the old one before he even hears the news.”
Shane was glad to hear it. Most of the damage to the car was under the hood and to the dash. But it was a total loss, no question.
“Any word yet on how the hell someone got to the car with it parked in the Bureau’s lot?” he asked. It took an act of Congress to get on the property.
“Surveillance cameras don’t show any activity around the car while it was on federal property. Simon thinks maybe it happened while you were at scene of Bailen’s murder. The feds are looking into the possibility of a faulty detonator, which may have caused the delay.”
“It was tied in to the switch.” Shane had felt the hesitation when he’d tried to start the engine. He’d known instantly what it was. Usually a guy didn’t live through that kind of epiphany. He and Mary Jane had been damned lucky.
Ann nodded her agreement to his assessment. “If Simon’s correct, then the car should have gone boom when you left that crime scene.”
Shane replayed their movements that morning. “Then we were doubly lucky because we stopped by her place to see you right after that.”
Ann laughed dryly. “You must have a guardian angel, Allen.”
But that was just it. He didn’t. Otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot last year. Maybe Mary Jane was the one with the guardian angel.
The door opened and the tech rolled Mary Jane from the X-ray room. She hated the wheelchair, but considering the painkillers it was best she didn’t try to walk under her own steam.
She spotted the bag right away. “Thank God.” She looked up at Ann. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem, Ms. Brooks.” Ann passed a set of keys to Shane. “It’s the gray Lexus. The directions to the safe house have been loaded into the navigation system.” Ann hesitated before walking away. “Try not to blow up anything else, Allen.”
She laughed as she walked away. Shane shook his head. “She’d never make it as a comedian.”
Mary Jane searched his face. “Maybe she’s flirting with you.”
“Now who’s the comedian?” He grabbed the wheelchair handles and ushered the patient in the direction of the exam room they’d left a half hour ago.
“She’s gorgeous,” Mary Jane said, intent on pursuing the subject.
“She’s not my type.” The image of Mary Jane wearing his shirt and sleeping in his guestroom, her silky red hair spilled across the linens, instantly filled his head.
“Guys always say that about the girls they like when they’re afraid of rejection.”
“So now you’re a female Dr. Phil.” He stopped long enough to lean close to her ear. Two could play this game. “You know, it helps if you’re speaking from experience.”
She folded her arms over her chest and didn’t say another word as he transported her back to the exam room. When the doctor had dismissed her and she’d had a chance to change out of the hospital gown, he escorted her to the Lexus in the same wheelchair. She gave him the silent treatment.
Okay, so maybe he’d gone too far with the “experience” remark.
Once she was settled into the passenger seat, he pulled the safety belt across her lap and snapped it into place. He hesitated before withdrawing from the vehicle, put himself nose to nose with her and looked straight into her eyes. “Sorry about that remark. I was out of line.”
She lifted her chin, didn’t break eye contact. “I guess I asked for it.”
The need to lean closer still, to let his lips brush hers was nearly overpowering. Somehow he managed to pull away. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side and got in.
“Ann mentioned a safe house.”
Shane shoved the key into the ignition and, despite knowing it was safe to do so, he had to concentrate for a second before turning the ignition. The vehicle’s engine hummed to life and he relaxed.
“Victoria’s lake house.” He glanced at Mary Jane. “You’ll like it.”
MARY JANE HAD DOSED OFF by the time they reached their destination. The drive seemed to take forever, and she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes open any longer. She jumped when Shane placed his hand on her arm.
“We made it. No flying bullets, no explosions.”
She moistened her lips. Her mouth felt dry. The drugs. “That’s a relief.” She’d had enough excitement the past thirty or so hours to last a
lifetime or two.
He hurried around to her side of the car and assisted her efforts to get out. She was sore. Especially the side with the ugly laceration. That was definitely going to leave a mark.
She felt a little stronger now. Walking wasn’t so awkward. The painkillers had at first made muscle coordination difficult. She didn’t enjoy the feeling, though she did appreciate the pain relief.
They entered the house from the garage. She had no idea how massive the house was until she passed through the kitchen and reached the family room.
“This place is huge.” She turned around slowly, really slowly, and tried to take in the elegant details. “Wow. It’s amazing.”
“It’s a great place.” He reached for her hand. “Check this out.”
He led her to the wall of windows that looked out over the lake. The clouds blocked most of the moon, but the few rays that reached through reflected on the black of the water. It looked so still, so peaceful and mysterious. Just like the man next to her.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She wet her lips again. “Water would be great.” She hugged her arms around herself, careful of her side, couldn’t seem to get warm enough.
“You want to watch some television, or do you need to call it a night?”
From somewhere deep inside her she summoned a halfhearted smile. “You know I think I need to lie down.” She felt extremely tired. She had a million questions, but all of it could wait until morning. She just couldn’t take anymore stimuli tonight.
Particularly not the kind that involved looking at him. The scratches and bruises that made him look as if he’d been in a barroom brawl. The new rip and scuff marks in what was obviously his favorite leather jacket.
No, she couldn’t trust herself in this man’s presence a minute longer than necessary right now. Between the drugs and the emotional wasteland that lay in her chest, she was pretty desperate.
He nodded. “I understand.”
Shane guided her through the house, letting her set the pace, which was about half that of a snail’s. When they reached the second floor, he allowed her first choice of the rooms. She selected one with a lake view. Then he left to fetch the requested bottle of water.
Mary Jane moved across the room to stand at the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows. She stared at the meager light on the dark water and wondered what her life would be like when this was over. Would she learn that her sister was alive and in hiding? Murdered by someone who had sworn to protect her?
At this rate, would Mary Jane even be alive to learn the truth?
Someone certainly wanted her dead.
But why? Until today she hadn’t known a thing about the case against Horizon Software.
Now, she knew too much.
She imagined that was what the enemy had been trying to prevent from the beginning.
“Here you go.”
She turned around slowly to face the man who’d returned with a bottle of imported water.
“Is what you sent Mr. Ruhl enough to put Anthony Chambers away even if his people succeed in killing us?” She hated that her lips quivered as she asked the question. She’d meant to be strong, to maintain her calm. But she’d failed. The trembling spread, making her feel unsteady.
Shane set the bottle on a table and walked toward her, one deliberate step at a time. “First,” he said with quiet determination, “no one’s getting to you without going through me. No one could have foreseen what happened today, but we’ve had fair warning now. That’s why we’re here where no one can reach us. State-of-the-art security. Unbreachable.”
Another step disappeared between them. “Second,” he continued with the same confidence, “Simon Ruhl, Ann Martin and Ian Michaels will be handling the investigation from here. My only objective will be to protect you.”
Another step. Her breath caught softly.
He stood toe-to-toe with her now. “And no one’s getting past me as long as I’m still breathing.”
Warmth flowed along her limbs, chasing away the chill she’d felt to some degree since Detective Bailen had shown up at her door. She felt warm and safe. As crazy as it sounded under the circumstances, she was certain this man would do exactly as he said he would, although she’d known him for a time best measured in hours rather than days.
“There’s just one other thing,” she whispered, her throat aching with the possibility.
“Name it.”
She threw caution to the wind, and let herself get completely lost in his dark eyes. That now familiar intensity made her want so desperately to feel it in every imaginable way…to have him want her the way she wanted him.
“I’m sure this is not part of your job, but I really need you to kiss me right now. I can’t remember the last time I was kissed but—”
He brushed his lips across hers. Her breath stalled in her chest.
And then he made the seal complete, covering her mouth fully with his own. His fingers curved around her cheeks, slid into her hair, pulled her mouth more firmly against his. And the day—the bullets, the blood, the murder and the bombing—all disappeared.
She dared to flatten her hands against his chest. The feel of the ridged terrain beneath the cotton shirt had her wishing she could feel the heat of his skin. Her body throbbed with a need she hadn’t felt in eons. Or maybe ever.
He pulled away from the kiss and her heart stumbled drunkenly. A smile slid across his kiss-dampened lips.
“We’re both pretty beat up. I’m not sure we should let this get too far out of bounds.”
“In the last twenty-four hours,” she said quickly, impulsively, “I’ve been shot at, interrogated by the federal authorities and bombed. I think we left any sort of boundaries behind a couple of ER visits ago.”
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the feeling incredibly sweet. “This isn’t something you jump right into, Mary Jane. Not…under the circumstances.”
Thank you, Rebecca. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about.” There was that one time when she was nineteen and then again when she was twenty-five. Hardly noteworthy experiences, but if he needed her resumé, she had entries. It wasn’t a blank page.
His expression closed and he took a step back, physically and emotionally. “This would be a mistake.” He gave his head a succinct shake. “I don’t do adrenaline-crash sex. You’re in no condition to make this kind of decision.”
He’d left the room before the shock faded enough for her to summon a response, and then it was too late.
She’d felt and tasted his desire. Was he really that noble, or was this about his ex-wife?
Maybe he was still in love with her.
Mary Jane squeezed her eyes shut. “So stupid.” This was why she didn’t bother with a social life. She was just no good at it. She should stick to teaching young children and taking care of the ailing elderly. It was the age group in between where she had the problem.
Taking it slow, since she was, as he’d said, pretty beat up, she made her way to the bed, toed off her shoes and stretched out on her back. There was always sleep.
If she were lucky, maybe she would dream about how it might have been.
SHANE’S CELL RANG. “Allen.”
“We have a preliminary report from the Bureau’s forensics techs.”
Simon Ruhl.
“A faulty detonator,” he went on, “is the only reason you two are still among the living.”
Shane closed his eyes and scrubbed his free hand over his face. Damn that had been close. “Have you heard from Chicago PD as to whether they found a connection between Bailen’s shooting and Torres’s apparent suicide?”
“Nothing on that, but we did get the voice analysis on the call from Mary Jane’s sister.”
“Manufactured,” Shane guessed.
“Most of the voice was a match, but the analysis indicated the dialogue had definitely been tampered with. Some portions couldn’t be verified as Rebecca Brooks’s voice. The stat
ements were definitely taken from previous recordings and strung together to suit some purpose.”
“Whatever went wrong,” Shane surmised, “the package that was delivered to Mary Jane today was nearly a year late. The sender had explicit instructions not to send the package until some sort of confirmation that Rebecca was dead. The lab’s mix-up ensured that didn’t happen until about forty-eight hours ago.”
“It would certainly be helpful,” Ruhl suggested, “if we knew the identity of the person who mailed that package.”
“Maybe,” Shane offered, “maybe not. It could have been a blind job. Money paid for services rendered. For all we know, a third or even a fourth party may have had the job of sending payment. Whatever the case, now someone is scrambling to cover his ass.”
“I agree,” Ruhl said. “Initially, Mary Jane was probably put under surveillance. But after Rebecca had been missing for some time without any action from her sister, the unsubs thought they were in the clear and everyone was happy. But then the discovery of the glitch at the lab set this whole chain of events into motion. All because Rebecca had a backup plan and someone suspected she would have just that.”
“But the remains don’t belong to Rebecca Brooks,” Shane reminded. “Yet another glitch.”
“So we have two immediate issues to solve. Who was Rebecca Brooks afraid of?” Ruhl considered aloud. “She felt that someone was selling her out. Then there’s the question of what actually happened to her. My guess is she’s dead and she took the details of her secret backup plan to the grave with her. Whoever killed her couldn’t ferret out what it was, but he knew all along that it would somehow involve her sister. When Mary Jane Brooks hired the Colby Agency, that someone got nervous.”
“Exactly.” Shane shouldered out of his jacket, moving the phone from one hand to the other. He winced at the ache in his arm. “We need a trap.”
“We have the bait,” Ruhl agreed. “I could send a fragment of one of the snapshots you sent me to LeMire and one to Mitchell and see who takes the bait.”
Both men, both agencies, would want that evidence. The question was, which one wanted it to pursue the case against Horizon Software and which one wanted it so he could bury it…along with Rebecca Brooks?