She rolled onto her back. He’d raised up on his elbow and was watching her, that goofy grin that she’d grown to love on his lips. She touched it, sliding her finger over it.
“It’s almost over.”
“It is.”
“What’s going to happen after?”
He fell back against his pillows and sighed. “I guess I take that million dollars and go to Europe, see how many women I can entice into my bed . . .”
She slapped his chest. “Don’t be an ass.”
He laughed as he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her higher against him. He kissed her, his mouth soft and gentle. “Just teasing,” he said against her lips.
“I’m serious, Gunner. What happens when this is all over?”
“I don’t know.” He ran a hand over the top of her head. “I live here in Chicago, and you’re from Florida.”
“No. I told you all; I live in Illinois, remember? Springfield, actually.”
“Since when?”
She shrugged. “It’s a complicated story.”
He reached up and kissed her again. “Well, that’s a lot better. Springfield is only three hours away.”
“Will you come see me?”
“Of course. We’ll meet for coffee sometime, talk about how great the comps were. And then I’ll whisk you off to my place and keep you hostage for a week or so, get you into a proper bed for once.”
She smiled, finding it easy to imagine. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah? Me too.”
He buried his fingers in her hair and pulled her close, his kiss a little more demanding now. Then he suddenly pulled away, dumping her onto her side on the bed.
“Time for a shower.”
She giggled as she watched him walk out of the room, believing the cold version of that was necessary. She’d felt him against her leg. She loved that she could do that to him, loved that she had the power to turn a man like that on that completely. And she loved even more what happened in the water closet when a cold shower wasn’t enough.
She got up after a little while and pulled on a pair of shorts, padding out to the kitchen on bare feet. Brian was frying a couple of eggs at the stove. Jessica was nowhere to be seen.
“Ready for the next comp?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “If you’re hoping to psych me out, you’re out of luck.”
“Nope. Just being friendly.”
He studied her as she crossed the fridge, pulling out the fruit salad she’d made herself. She was very careful only to touch the things she placed in the fridge herself and never got upset about things that went missing. She’d learned her lesson from Lesley’s tantrum her first day in the house.
“Are we not going to talk about it?”
“What?”
She set the bowl down and scratched her arm, the new scar so itchy that it was beginning to drive her crazy. They’d taken out the stitches days ago, but the itching was insane.
He was staring at her arm. All of sudden, he dumped his eggs into the sink and marched out of the room, the sound of his bedroom door slamming reverberating through the house. Zola just stood there, watching the empty rooms between them, not sure what had just happened.
Jessica came into the room and began rummaging through the fridge.
“What’s up with Brian?”
“Don’t know. The guy’s been a real ass since we became partners.”
“He just stormed out of here like I’d said something nasty to him.”
“Don’t know,” she said again, pulling a bottle of water out. “All I know is that I’d much rather be here with Josh. Brian was an ass when the game started, and he’s an ass now.”
“He’s always been this way?”
She groaned. “He told Josh flat out, the day we came into the house, that he had this thing sewed up in the bag. Said he had the inside track.”
“How’s that?”
“Never would say. And when I asked about it last week, he said that things had changed. But he didn’t deny it.”
“Weird.”
She nodded. “He’s weird. I just want this thing over with, so I can go home to my cat and my overpriced apartment.” She touched Zola’s arm as she walked past. “Hurry up and win.”
Jessica’s words reverberated through Zola’s head the rest of the day, picking at something that sat at the back of her mind like a thorn in her heel. It wasn’t until they’d gotten to the location of the next comp that something finally came loose. She was stepping off the shuttle and happened to see a pile of supplies that had been unloaded and left to be checked by the security crew. When she saw it, a flash of red popped into her head, and she remembered seeing something the night she was cut.
Red. A jacket.
She stopped short, and Brian ran into her.
“Watch out, bitch!”
“Hey!” Gunner called after him, but Brian was already gone, storming off to the far side of the lot where the crew was setting up a new game, something to do with endurance. There were long poles and plastic plates and things she didn’t want to think about.
“You okay, babe?” Gunner asked, moving up behind her, his hands moving over her outer arms.
“Fine.”
But she wasn’t. She’d finally put it all together, and she felt that sickness in her stomach again. Brian was talking to one of the producers, clearly agitated. She could see it in the way he was standing, the way he was leaning into the guy. And she could see it in the anxious way the other man looked around, his eyes narrowing when he realized Zola was watching.
“I’ve got to go,” she mumbled, turning around to search for Durango. Gunner grabbed her wrist, but she pulled away. “I’ll be back.”
He should be there, but he wasn’t. She didn’t see his face among the dozen or so getting out of the trucks that were parked behind the fence. And she didn’t see him among those milling inside the closed set.
She was about to panic, convinced everything was going to turn upside down and someone was going to get hurt. Bad. She was about to slip through the open gate when someone snagged her arm.
“Gunner, I’ll be right back!”
“It’s me.”
Gracie Colson, Durango’s girl Friday, or whatever, was standing behind her, anxiously pushing her glasses higher up on her nose.
“Where’s Durango?”
“He’s outside. He’ll be in soon.”
“I know who it is. I know who’s sabotaging the sets, and I know who he’s working with.”
“So do we.”
“What? Why didn’t Durango come talk to me?”
“Because too many people have seen the two of you together. He didn’t want the saboteur to panic and do something stupid.”
Zola glanced across the set, her anxiety level only jumping up when she saw Gunner standing near Brian and the producer.
“Things are about to get really bad. He thinks that I’m playing games with him.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way he was acting this morning. Don’t you guys watch the feeds?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m telling you, he’s getting desperate. He’s going to do something big tonight!”
“I believe you.” Gracie took Zola’s arm and pulled her closer to the gate. “Durango called the Chicago PD. He’s out there talking to one of the detectives right now. If everything goes the way it should, they’ll both be arrested in just a few minutes.”
Relief rushed over Zola. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. A witness came forward. Brian apparently told her everything, and she’s willing to testify to everything.”
“Lesley?”
When Gracie nodded, Zola sent up a little prayer, asking for forgiveness for every bad word she’d thought about that woman.
“The producer, too?”
Gracie nodded. “It’s a little fishier there, but we’re hoping Brian will give us what we need when he’s arrested.”
“I
think that’s where he got the box cutter. I think the producer put it in the pile of supplies, and Brian picked it up when he got his shovel and things for the comp.”
“You saw it?”
“Yeah. I just didn’t realize what I was seeing until today.”
“Then we’ve got it in the bag. Good work, Zola.”
Gunner was gesturing to her. Zola just nodded to Gracie and rushed across the yard, her hands deep in her pockets as she wondered what would happen when Durango came in with the cops.
She didn’t have time to find out.
“I’m not losing this competition,” Brian muttered as she approached.
“No one’s lost yet,” Gunner said, a grin on his handsome face. “Not yet, anyway.”
The gun flashed in the bright lights the camera men had set up, the barrel moving too fast to be real. Zola’s heart jumped into her throat as she saw the sights focus on Gunner’s back. He didn’t even see it coming.
She kicked him because it was the first thing that came to mind, that instinctive move that can’t be explained later. Her foot landed on his hip, knocking him off balance. Gunner fell sideways as the weapon discharged, the bullet slamming into the fence across from them, splinters flying in multiple directions.
“Don’t do this, Brian!” She moved in front of him, her hands raised so that he could see she wasn’t holding a weapon, and she had nothing but her petite frame to protect herself. “You’ll never get that money if you hurt someone.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Neither do you. The cops are outside that gate, waiting to take you down.”
Panic flashed in his eyes, and the barrel of the gun dropped a few inches. But then it came right back up, and the sights were now focused on the center of her chest. She didn’t care. As long as Gunner was out of the sights, she didn’t care what happened next.
“I could kill you,” Brian said.
“You could. But then you’d go to prison and money is no good to anyone in prison.”
“I don’t care. If I don’t get this money, I might as well be dead.”
Zola took a step toward him, her hands still up in the air. “You know what will happen if you go to prison for shooting me? You’ll be famous for a little while, known as the guy who killed that girl on the set of that reality show that no one can remember the name of. And then your fame will wane, and people will begin to wonder why you think you’re such a big shot. And then they’ll come after you because you annoy the shit out of them.”
“How would you know?”
“Because my ex is serving a life sentence in a California pen. And because I was an MP.”
“You’re full of shit! You’re a high school teacher!”
“I’m an operative for Mastiff Security, Brian. I was put in here to find out who was sabotaging the set.”
“You didn’t do a very good job of it.” He laughed, a nervous titter that she would hear in her dreams for months to come. “You were my fucking partner!”
“Maybe I was just waiting until you revealed your other partner.”
His eyes narrowed, and the heavy barrel of the gun came up once again. “Bitch!” he cried as he pulled the trigger. At that range, Zola knew she was in trouble. She had no choice but to step into the gun, step into him, and hope he missed when she tackled him.
No such luck.
She knocked the gun sideways, but too late to change the trajectory of the bullet. But he landed on the ground with the force of her moving body; the air knocked out of his lungs with a rush of air that blew across her face. And then he was hauled off the ground away from her, and a blur of colors and movement rushed just beyond Zola’s line of sight. She passed out just after that.
It was over. But at what cost?
Chapter 18
Chicago, Illinois
Chicago Memorial Hospital
Durango was uneasy from the moment he walked through the door. He knew this hospital. This was where he’d come dozens of times to see the bodies of victims in whose name he was meant to find justice. It was where they’d brought Sarah, though he wasn’t allowed to see her, wasn’t allowed to say goodbye before the vampires at the funeral home got hold of her. This was where his life had been defined and where it had ended so suddenly five years ago.
Gracie was beside him, clenching his hand so tight that he was sure his fingers would be swollen and stiff tomorrow. Zola was in surgery. He’d told her to be careful, and she’d had to be some sort of hero. And now she was in surgery.
“Gunner wanted to come,” Gracie said. “That’s good, right?”
He glanced at her, not quite sure what she was talking about.
Brian Rawling had been arrested. Not even ten minutes in an interrogation room and he gave up the whole story. It was all about the money. His brother had gambling debts, and these people were coming after them, people you don’t mess with, even in the real world. They had to come up with $300,000 by the end of the month, or someone was going to get hurt. And blood is thicker than water, right? But when that girl’s ankle got so badly messed up, he began to think twice about it, deciding he’d rather not hurt anyone else. But his brother . . . He showed him these pictures, and he was convinced that everything that mattered to him would be destroyed if he didn’t do this. And the remaining money was to be his; the most he’d ever seen in his life.
He’d slice a woman’s arm open for $200,000. Who wouldn’t?
And it turned out that Cillian Christy? His real name was Ken Rawling.
Felicity was in a tizzy trying to figure out how to save the show. They didn’t have a winner. They didn’t have a comp to show the viewers for the showdown. They didn’t have anything for this week’s show, let alone a cast for the final live show. Her partner, the one she relied on for all the bright ideas, was a shyster and a fool, putting his brother up to this nonsense to pay off gambling debts that didn’t even exist. He was just mad because he’d learned that the show was running in the red, and he wouldn’t get anything back on his investment until they’d been picked up for at least three seasons.
It looked like Durango wouldn’t be able to save this investment for Billy, after all.
And Zola was in surgery for a bullet wound to her shoulder. The doctors in the emergency room were optimistic, but that could change now that she was in surgery. All they could do was wait and see.
“They should give the prize money to Gunner and Jessica.”
“What?”
Gracie tugged on his hand. “The prize money. They should give it to Gunner and Jessica. Without Gunner, Brian might have gotten away. And without Jessica, the gun might have been lost in the tussle. Her diving in and grabbing it was pretty brave. And, of course, Gunner beating Brian like that was a bit of a double-edged sword.”
“It kept him from hurting Zola anymore. I owe him for that.”
“We all do.” She was quiet for a long moment. “I should have pulled her out of there before it all went down.” Her voice was different, still Gracie, but filled with this touch of authority he’d never heard from her.
“It wasn’t your place to do that. It was mine. The guilt lies with me.”
“Gunner wanted to be here. But until they figure out what to do about the show, he had to stay there.”
Durango lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “I’ll go see Felicity later. Maybe she just needs a sounding board to figure things out.”
Gracie nodded.
They sat there another hour, but it seemed more like three hours. The doors to the waiting room finally opened, and the surgeon who’d taken Zola’s case walked in.
“She made it through the surgery like a champ,” he said, kneeling in front of Gracie, focusing mostly on her. “The bullet tore through the muscle here, just below the shoulder blade, creating a lot of bleeding and damage to the muscle itself. But the bone was unaffected. It will likely take her a month or more to heal, but she will heal. She’s going to be fine.”
&nbs
p; Relief was like the rush of endorphins that comes with a bottle of vodka. Durango leaned forward, struggling to catch his breath for a moment. He could feel Gracie rubbing his back as she continued to speak to the doctor. They were both a little oblivious to how desperately afraid Durango had been that he’d lose another woman in his life. He didn’t know Zola well, but what he knew of her he liked. Even if he didn’t, he hadn’t wanted her hurt, and he certainly didn’t want her dead. This news was the best he’d gotten in a very long time.
He drove Gracie back to the hotel after learning that Zola wouldn’t be allowed visitors until the following morning. He walked her as far as the elevator, not surprised to watch the night manager bring her another bundle of files that were in desperate need of review by those back at Mastiff.
“Don’t look at me that way,” she said as they waited for the elevator doors to open. “If you had an assistant who would stick around for longer than a couple of hours, there wouldn’t be all this paperwork that required attention.”
“But why you?”
“Because I don’t mind. And Axel is a little overwhelmed, learning this job while you’re under investigation.”
He nodded, reluctant to admit that she was probably right. “It’s that Abigail. He’s too busy traveling between Springfield and her farm.”
“Her farm is less than half an hour away.” Gracie slapped his arm. “Don’t be mean.”
She stepped into the elevator and watched him, waiting for him to follow.
“I’m going to check in with Felicity.”
“Our job is over, Durango.”
“Yeah, well, my brother is still an investor in this project. I want to see if I can do anything to help.”
Suspicion and a little jealousy filled her eyes. “Whatever,” she mumbled.
“Gracie . . .”
But the doors closed, and she was gone.
Durango drove across town in his rented sedan, glad he’d decided to get a car of his own instead of relying on the studio staff to shuttle him back and forth. They would have been happy to do it, but he wanted a little freedom. A phone call told him that Felicity had gone back to her condo downtown. He crossed the city, the streets more familiar than he was comfortable with. He passed landmarks he’d taken for granted when he lived here before, places that were so ingrained in his memories that it felt surreal to see them again.
Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series Page 67