They gathered around the area, careful not to disturb the evidence that Brandy recorded with her phone. “Looks like blood here.” She placed another yellow marker and zoomed in for a close up. “Let’s call in forensics.”
__________
Dawn streaked the sky, and Miguel Lawrence was in bad shape. The problem with northern Michigan was that it had too much open space and not enough towns. He needed medical attention. That motherfucker Monaghan had dislocated his jaw, at least one rib, and probably his wrist. And that bitch Markevich had kicked his face so hard that she’d broken his nose where Monaghan had failed that first time. Then she’d kept kicking him in the same spot. When he got his hands on her, he was going to enjoy her death. No more mercy. He’d originally planned to kill her quickly, but she’d ruined it all.
Brandy Lockmeyer. Miguel had recruited that cunt six years ago after she’d tanked an assignment for the CIA. An FBI field office wouldn’t be nearly as stressful, he’d said. All she had to do was follow instructions—take the cases he told her to take and handle them in the manner he recommended.
It had worked so far. She hadn’t asked questions. She hadn’t delved beneath the surface. Just as he’d wanted, she’d been his minion. Unwitting minion. She hadn’t been aware of the repercussions of half of what he’d instructed her to do. Ignoring some cases had meant The Eye’s operations had remained secret. Taking other cases had smoked out The Eye’s competition.
And then Judge Caldwell got in the way. His rulings became more liberal, more humanitarian—as he called them—in his efforts to actually rehabilitate criminals. Fucker had cost him several million dollars already. He had to go, and The Eye had the perfect person waiting to take his place. She was coldly efficient—and Lawrence had failed in his mission to get her in place yet again.
He’d meant for Gartrell to make the Judge’s death look like a robbery. That would deflect suspicion, and the FBI would decline the case. Local cops would easily find the mugger dead from a heroin overdose, evidence from the robbery in plain sight.
The plan had been foolproof. Until Gartrell had refused, Markevich had stumbled over Gary’s body, and Monaghan had caught Gartrell. And then Brandy hadn’t let it go.
He found a twenty-four hour walk-in clinic in a small strip of businesses in some hick town—he didn’t know where he was. Blood loss was making him woozy. The receptionist on duty had that tired look about her that said she’d stayed up all night too many times. Miguel pointed his gun at her. “Where is the doctor?”
The woman stared at the gun, frozen in fear. He did not have the time to deal with half-wits, so he put a bullet in the middle of her forehead. That ruined the expression of blazing stupidity on her face. The sound brought the doctor running. An Indian woman in a white lab coat faced him, eyes wide, but the look passed quickly. She felt for a pulse in the receptionist’s neck. “You killed her.”
“And you’re next if you don’t do exactly as I say. Hands up, step back.” Due to the pain in his jaw, his spoke in a strange growl that suited the situation. The clinic had none of the sophisticated safety features one would find in more populated areas. “Lock the front door and put up the Closed sign.”
She followed his instructions with quick, efficient movements.
Miguel scoped out the security and found the place had none. No alarm system, no panic button, and no surveillance cameras. Lady Luck had finally smiled upon him. This was a sign. He could fix this. He’d made mistakes, but they were still contained. If he rectified them before they got out, then it would be like they’d never happened. “Open the door to the back. You’re going to fix me up and give me a transfusion.”
“We don’t stock blood.”
“Bullshit. There’s an ambulance bay in the back. I know you have emergency supplies. Don’t fuck with me, or I will kill you.” He was going to kill her anyway, but he’d rather she patched him up first.
She was a good doctor—he’d give her that. Not only did she cast his arm and wrap his chest to immobilize his broken rib, but she managed to put his jaw back in place. X-rays showed that it had been dislocated, not broken. While this was going on, she hooked up an IV and gave him a transfusion that had him feeling a whole lot better. “Do you want me to set your nose?” she asked. “It’s going to hurt a lot.”
Moving his jaw had hurt a lot. The nose was nothing. “Sure.”
She did, and she bandaged it too. “What now?”
“Now I’d like to thank you for fixing me up, Doctor Mehra. You did a fantastic job under the circumstances.”
She disconnected the IV. “You should follow up with your physician as soon as possible. Your jaw has two hairline fractures that should be watched.”
Miguel smiled. “Oh, honey, I’d take you with me if I could. You have a great bedside manner, all things considered. However, I have to travel solo. It’s the nature of the beast.” Without altering his expression, he shot her in the chest. She had a pretty face, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, generous lips, and smooth skin, so he wanted to preserve that part for her family. It was best they remembered her beauty and brains. The receptionist had been an ugly hag. They were better off having a closed casket.
If he had time, he’d come back for Doctor Mehra’s funeral. Her death was a real tragedy, another fuck up to lay at Brandy Lockmeyer’s feet.
He rummaged through the purses in the break room and took a fresh set of car keys. If Brandy was onto him, then she’d likely put a BOLO on his car. He’d figure out how to pin this neatly on her, but first he had a judge to kill. If he’d learned one thing, it was not to send an intermediary to do an important job. Killing Herman Caldwell was something he should have done himself.
Chapter Twenty
“He’ll need medical attention,” Dustin said when they reached the cottage. “Let’s get local police to check in on all clinics and emergency rooms in a thirty-mile radius, any place he could find a doctor.”
Brandy nodded, her mind lost in thought. “Get on that.”
“The funerals are off, right?” Jordan asked. “I’m going to call my parents and let them know I’m alive. They’ve been through enough. Amy’s parents should be notified as well.”
“Darcy already took care of that,” Malcolm said as he climbed out of the passenger seat. “She thought our plan was crappy, something only dickheaded cops would think to do, and so she told her parents that Amy was alive, but that they had to pretend otherwise. Then she told your family. They’re still hanging at your house, waiting until you get home.”
That made Jordan feel better. As wonderful as this time with Amy had been, it had been tainted by the fact that the people he loved most were going through a personal hell. He glanced at Brandy. “Did you know?”
She glared at Malcolm. “Agent Legato, you were instructed not to reveal to anyone that Amy and Jordan weren’t dead, and that included your wife.”
Malcolm didn’t bother looking guilty. “I promised Darcy that I’d never lie to her again. Not telling her something like this would have qualified as a lie. If it makes you feel better, she forfeited a month of spankings.”
Darcy was a painslut, and a spanking was a daily treat she very much enjoyed. Not having one was a punishment. Brandy didn’t appear impressed. “We’ll talk about this later, after I decide what kind of disciplinary action to pursue.”
Malcolm and Dustin went into the cottage ahead of them, and Jordan held Brandy back with an insistent hand on her arm. “If it didn’t harm our case, do you really need to discipline him?” Malcolm was already on thin ice for not following procedure a number of times. “He could lose his job. He’s a good agent, Brandy.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But he leaves me no choice. I can’t look the other way while he flouts the law and plays fast and loose with procedure. We’re lucky Darcy didn’t post Amy’s status on social media. She makes no secret about her attitude toward law enforcement.”
The police had put Darcy through hell when her fiancé ha
d disappeared. She still harbored a deep distrust of cops, agents, and the government in general. Jordan had worked hard over the past eighteen months to earn her trust. He slung his arm around Brandy’s shoulder in a short hug. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”
She snorted derisively, but she didn’t shake off his hug. “The right thing might not be what you want it to be.”
They went inside. Jordan was anxious to see Amy. He found Malcolm perched on the coffee table across from her, talking. Amy beamed at whatever he was saying. “Hey, there, little one. Did Malcolm tell you that your parents know you’re alive?”
“Yes. Also that Darcy kept them in the dark for two hours while she forced them to say nice things about me.” The sparkle in Amy’s blue eyes made his chest ache. He was torn between loving that she was happy and hating the cause of her happiness. His parents had always been positive, encouraging, and supportive—and that’s what he would be to Amy. She deserved more from people who were supposed to love her.
He couldn’t summon a smile. “We’re going to be here for a little while longer. Lawrence wasn’t in that hole, and we’ll be using this as a base to coordinate the manhunt. I’m going to send you home with Frankie and Jesse.”
Amy’s bottom lip quivered, and her gaze dropped to her lap. “I don’t have a home anymore.”
Malcolm held her hand. “You can stay with us for as long as you need. Mi casa es su casa.”
Though his knee-jerk reaction was to say that Amy would live with him, he used his head. Throwing her into a situation where she was surrounded by his family probably wasn’t for the best. Though they were wonderful, she’d only met Jamie once. Amy would do better if she was with Darcy. He stroked her hair. “Spend a couple days with Darcy. When I come home, you can move in with me, at least until your house is rebuilt.” He lifted a brow at Malcolm. “Unlike Keith, I sealed the deal.”
Mal looked from Amy to Jordan, a slow smile spreading across his features. “You’re engaged? That’s wonderful.” He hugged Amy again. “I won’t tell Darcy so you can surprise her.”
“What’s that? You’re engaged?” Dustin shouted from the kitchen. He came closer and clapped Jordan on the back. “Congratulations. The twins will be so disappointed. They may stop coming altogether.”
Dustin and Jordan ran a regular munch, a group that met once each month to discuss BDSM. It attracted many new to the lifestyle. He and Dustin often provided information and advice to the newbies. “The Twins” was a nickname they’d given to a pair of women who came together each time. They mostly giggled as they ogled Jordan and Dustin. They’d stopped making comments about their availability after Dustin had informed them that the Doms who ran the munch had a policy of not dating or playing with any of the group members.
Jordan didn’t really care if they stopped coming. He didn’t think they honestly wanted to get involved in the lifestyle, and he mostly ignored them. Maybe he’d start taking Amy to the munches. They needed a responsible submissive who could give advice from the other side of the equation.
“We’ve got bodies,” Brandy announced. “Twenty-three miles south of this location at a twenty-four hour walk-in clinic. Two women. The local PD have unofficially identified them as a doctor and a receptionist. Let’s go.”
Jordan kissed Amy’s forehead. “Be good for Frankie and Jesse. I’ll come see you as soon as I get home. I love you, babe.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I love you too. Be safe, and come home in one piece.”
Amy watched Jordan go with mixed feelings. She supposed it was going to be like this always. He’d been clear about the demands of his job and the ways in which it would interfere with their time together. She shifted, gingerly moving her foot to the floor so she could stand up.
“What are you doing?” Jesse rushed to her side and scooped her up. “You can’t put weight on that ankle.”
“I have to visit the bathroom, and then I thought I’d unpack some things for Jordan. He’ll need a change of clothes.” Amazed that yet another person felt free to pick her up, she regarded him with amazed curiosity. He hadn’t said much the entire time he’d been there.
Frankie let loose with a dramatic sigh. “He’s one of them, Amy. Don’t even think about arguing.” She gestured for Jesse to come closer. “I’ll help her walk to the bathroom. Women are funny about strange men watching them pee, something guys will never understand.”
Ten minutes later, they were on their way to Darcy’s house. Amy lay down in the backseat of the large SUV and tried to sleep. The darkly tinted windows helped, and soon she found herself drifting off. The feel of the vehicle stopping woke her suddenly.
“What happened?” She sat up to see that they’d arrived at her sister’s place.
Darcy flew down the walk. Her father brought up the rear. Frankie climbed out of the driver’s seat and held up a hand. “Take it easy. She’s a little banged up, but she’ll be fine.”
Jesse helped her from the back. She balanced on one foot and smiled at her father and sister. “Hey. How was your honeymoon?”
Her father, Paul, looked her up and down. “Seriously? That’s what you choose to ask about? Not how are your parents, who thought they’d lost their oldest daughter? Not how are your neighbors, who think you died in a freak accident?”
“Dad, shush,” Darcy waved her hand, dismissing him. “Can I hug you?”
“Yeah. It’s just my ankle.” Amy held her arms open, and her little sister embraced her tightly. When Darcy finally released her, she held her arms out to her father. “I know Darcy told you almost immediately. How about a hug for your oldest daughter, who you did not lose?”
He shook as he held her. “Maybe we knew you weren’t dead, but we knew you were in danger, that some lunatic was trying to kill you. At least now they’ve caught him, and you’re safe.”
“Oh, they didn’t catch him.” Jesse grabbed her bags from the cargo area. “That’s why we’re here. Frankie and I will be keeping Amy safe until he’s caught.”
“They didn’t catch him?” Darcy clapped her hands over her mouth. “Malcolm said you were coming home, and that the funeral operation was off. I assumed that meant they caught him.”
“Let’s take this inside.” Frankie scanned the neighborhood, looking for whatever it was that security people looked for. Hidden dangers, probably.
Amy threw one arm around Darcy’s shoulders and the other around her father’s. They helped her up the steps to the porch. “Where’s mom?”
“She took Colin grocery shopping. We didn’t expect you home for another hour.” Paul opened the door and turned sideways so they’d all fit through the opening.
“Speed limits are a suggestion,” Frankie explained. “We made good time.”
Jesse came inside last. He dropped the load of bags to the right of the front door. “Mrs. Legato, I’m going to need to look around your house. Do you mind?”
Darcy frowned. “I’ll accompany you. I don’t trust cops farther than I can throw them.”
“We’re not cops. We’re private security.”
Paul frowned. “You’re mercenaries?”
“Not today, sir,” Jesse replied. “Today we’re a personal protection detail for Ms. Markevich.”
“But don’t fret, sir.” Frankie grinned wickedly. “If things get dangerous, we’re prepared to do whatever is necessary to protect your daughter.”
Amy couldn’t tell if her father was outraged, shocked, reassured, or if his acid reflux was acting up. She opted to redirect the conversation. “How about putting me on that really comfortable couch in the family room?”
Darcy must have been worried, because she didn’t call Amy a traitor or make a crack about the black leather sofa that Malcolm had brought with him when he’d moved in. She’d been on a mission to get rid of it for over a year.
Her mother, Fran, arrived with Colin a little later. The tears in her mother eyes spoke volumes, and she hugged Amy for a long, long time. Even after she released he
r, she sat on the floor next to the sofa and held Amy’s hand. Their parents had never been good at expressing their feelings, and that simple act made Amy feel very loved.
Around dinner time, Jordan’s family descended on them, which sent Frankie and Jesse into a tizzy. Jesse blocked the front door with his massive presence. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have orders that no one else comes inside."
Amy heard Darcy at the door. One did not mess with Darcy, and nobody but Malcolm told her what she could or couldn’t do. “For fuck’s sake, Jesse. They’re obviously Jordan’s family. They look just like him. Their little boy is out there, risking his life to catch a criminal, and they want to meet his girlfriend.” Though Amy couldn’t see it, she imagined Darcy shoving Jesse aside, throwing the door open, and welcoming them inside.
Silence reigned while she and her parents exchanged puzzled glances. Frankie sipped coffee. “The more people inside, the more difficult it is to watch and secure everybody. They’ll have to consent to being searched.”
Fran narrowed her eyes at Amy. “Did she say you were Jordan’s girlfriend? So there was something going on when we came over and he was walking around your house half naked.”
“No, there wasn’t. That was before we decided to change our relationship. And he was only missing his shirt.” Though she was telling the truth, she couldn’t stop the blush that traveled up her neck.
They must have agreed to a search because the next thing Amy knew, she was being picked up and passed from one person to the next like a new baby. All of them were tall and athletic. They each had dark hair and the same sharp features that Jordan sported. The last huggers sandwiched her between them. “Amy, it’s so good to finally meet you. Jordan and Jamie have told us so much about you. It’s like you’re already family.”
“Okay, give her space.” Jamie pried her from between the people Amy assumed were Jordan’s parents. “Can’t you tell she’s been hurt?” She threw her arm around Amy and helped her back to the sofa. Then she made the introductions. “These are my parents, Paul and Paulette Monaghan. Not kidding about that. And these are my sisters, Lela and Della, and my brothers, Harvey and Cliff.”
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