“Start at the part where you found Mercedes. What happened after that?”
Her eyes watered and she glanced down, and then she chuckled sadly. “You know it’s like my tears are on autopilot. Anytime I think of Mercedes…the waterworks start. I miss her so much.”
“Of course you do,” Archer said gruffly, looking away so his chest would stop feeling as if an elephant had just used it for an ottoman. “No one expects you to be a rock. But I need to know everything. I think it’s safe to say we’re not dealing with a bunch of small-town thugs. I’ve got a guy doing background on this Ruben character but the Oaktown Boyz are no stranger to FBI investigations. You’re in some serious shit, Rissa.”
“I know that,” she said, but she didn’t look as frightened as she did a minute ago. Instead, her brows were pulling into a scowl. “I asked you to keep this information to yourself. Who are you telling my business to?”
He held her stare. “Someone I trust,” he said, leaving it at that. If she wanted his help she had to let him do things his way. But he figured if he were in her shoes, he’d be touchy, too. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your safety,” he said quietly. His admission calmed the storm brewing in those dark eyes and she jerked a short nod.
“If you trust him…I guess I’ll trust you.”
Her statement caused an ache in his chest that was hard to ignore but he did a fair imitation at least on the surface.
“So how did you—the woman who craves stability and security above all else—” he tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but he wasn’t sure he succeeded for she winced subtly at his comment “—get yourself into this kind of mess?”
She straightened and pushed stray strands of hair from eyes as dark as midnight, and a small sigh escaped. “If you think I don’t wonder that myself every moment since Mercedes died, you’re mistaken. I’d do anything to go back to my life.”
“What happened after you found Mercedes?” he asked again, hating the jealous spurt that spilled over onto his thoughts at her admission. Her work meant everything to her. The fact that she was no different from him should’ve comforted him in some way but it didn’t. It just made him feel rejected all over again.
“I called 911.”
“Okay and then what?”
“Well, I had to give a statement to the police,” she answered, but the information well trickled to a drip and she was holding on to something she didn’t want to share. “And then I went to get Jenna,” she finished, averting her eyes.
“And like I said before, I doubt he just handed her over. Plus, you’re sporting a nice bruise from someone’s fist. Let’s start with the easy stuff. Who hit you?”
Her hand went automatically to her lip and her mouth tightened.
“Was it Ruben?” Archer prompted, anger rising again at the thought of Marissa being manhandled by anyone. He forced the red-hot emotion down and focused as if she were just another victim in another case that he was assigned. “Who hit you?” he repeated, this time more forcefully.
“Not Ruben,” she answered.
“Then who?”
“His name was Manny…Ruben’s cousin.”
Archer stilled. “Was?”
Marissa swallowed hard, the telling gesture sending spikes of dread straight to his gut. He had a feeling things were about to go from bad to worse in her world and by proxy his. “What do you mean? Was?”
She looked at him, her eyes misting but she didn’t elaborate.
He stared, not quite able to believe what his brain was telling him. “Marissa…did you kill him?”
“I don’t know,” she answered in a small voice, her fingers nervously fiddling with the beer label on the bottle. She met his gaze, imploring him to believe her, save her, hell probably anything aside from hauling her into the authorities, and he wanted to curse. “It was self-defense,” she started, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I swear it. He’d attacked me and there was a struggle…”
Archer had a hard time imagining how Marissa, who stood at a petite five feet four inches tall had managed to overpower a man who was likely taller and stronger unless she’d been prepared for a fight when she walked in there. “Did you shoot him?”
She gave him a wounded look. “You know I hate guns.”
“Okay…so what’d you use?”
Marissa hesitated, clearly wishing she could refuse an answer but she knew he wouldn’t quit, so she finally relented. “A knife.”
“Something small that you could easily conceal,” he surmised and she nodded. “So you knew when you walked into that place that it might come down to someone getting hurt.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t have a plan per se, I just wanted the knife for protection. And as it happened I ended up having to use it,” she added defensively.
He sighed. “Okay, so you killed this Manny guy…”
She blinked hard. “I don’t know…he was bleeding pretty badly…but maybe he lived. Ruben keeps a doctor on staff at the compound for his own personal uses.”
“Where’d you stick him?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she whispered. “I really didn’t. But I was scared and…”
“Where, Marissa?”
She glanced down at the warm beer in her hand. “In the stomach.”
“He’s dead.”
Her head shot up, her expression crumpling.
“Unless the doctor Ruben keeps around has a surgical suite at his disposal…the guy likely bled out.”
Marissa put her beer down and dropped her head into her hands. Her shoulders shook as she silently wept. He looked away, not able to watch her pain without feeling it himself. But he was unable to stop from reaching out to her. He tried to ease her pain. “Don’t waste your tears on that scum,” he said. “I’m not saying what you did was okay but some people deserve what they get.”
What he didn’t mention was that he was privately glad to hear that the man who’d punched Marissa had taken a knife to the gut. Bleeding out from the stomach was a nasty way to die.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” she protested, tears strangling her voice. “I just wanted to get out of there and when he hit me all I could think was ‘If I die what will happen to Jenna?’ She’s already lost so much. I couldn’t take the thought that she might lose everyone who would ever love her. Now that Mercedes is gone, I’m all she has.”
Knowing what he knew of Marissa, he sensed she was telling the truth, even if she was still skipping out on all the details.
“What was this Manny character doing with the baby?” he asked.
“He was the guard assigned to the nursery,” Marissa said, wiping at her eyes and trying to put herself back on track. “He knew I was her aunt so he let me enter. But something must’ve tipped him off that I wasn’t planning to just visit because he came back in to check and that’s when he saw me trying to climb out the window with Jenna and her diaper bag.”
“You were going to climb out a window with a baby?”
“The nursery was on the ground floor. It wasn’t like I was trying to jump from a great height. Anyway, he yanked me back inside and Jenna fell to the floor. She started screaming but before I could try to comfort her, he punched me in the face and I was seeing stars for a minute.” Marissa winced at the memory. “And then he kicked me in the ribs. Manny was always a sick bastard. He liked to inflict pain and he hated Mercedes, so when I heard he was guarding the nursery I knew I’d run out of time. I was afraid Manny might hurt Jenna because of who her mother was. But I never expected him to check on me and that was my mistake.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because…” Her cheeks started to pink and she refused to meet his gaze. That in itself made him worry. Something she’d done was more shameful to her than stabbing a guy in the gut. She squeezed her eyes shut as she answered haltingly, “Because Manny knew I’d—I’d come there at, ah, Ruben’s request.”
“Hold on. Why would you do that if you thought Ruben killed your
sister?”
Tears sparkled in her eyes as she cried, “Because I knew he wanted me and if I pretended to play along…then he would let his guard down long enough for me to get out of town with Jenna.”
She’d slept with him. That’s what she wasn’t saying. What she was dancing around, too ashamed to admit. She’d slept with Ruben to save her niece. He swore under his breath. He stood and walked a short distance before Marissa’s voice at his back made him stop.
“Don’t you dare judge me,” she said, her voice hot but wounded, as well. “I did what I had to do to save her life. You don’t know what kind of people Ruben deals with. She was a novelty to him. He wanted her because she was his blood, not because he loved her. He pressured Mercedes to get an abortion and when she refused, he beat her in the hopes that she would lose the baby. You can’t tell me that’s the kind of man who would make a good father!”
“So the first option you go with is to whore yourself to a man you despise?” he said, turning slowly, anger and pain creating a toxic mixture. He was rewarded with a sharp crack across his jaw. The slap echoed in the room, the only sound between them. He deserved it but he was too angry to acknowledge it. “Feel better?” he asked, his voice tight.
Her nostrils flared ever so slightly as she said, eyes boring into him, “My sister is dead. I’m on the run from a drug lord. And the one man I thought I could count on is looking at me like I’m trash. How do you think I feel?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because he didn’t have one for her. She pushed past him and ran up the stairs.
CHAPTER FIVE
MARISSA CUDDLED JENNA and tried to keep from sobbing. It was bad enough that she carried the stain of what she’d done like a brand on her soul but to have Archer look at her in that way…it was more than she could handle.
What had she expected? She wanted to rail at herself for being so naive and hopeful for his unquestioning support. She’d done nothing to garner that from him. She’d pushed him out of her life with the excuse that his job wasn’t conducive to the life she wanted. She’d wanted stability and quiet evenings; blessedly normal and suburban, perhaps a child or two, and a membership to the local gym. It was bad enough she had a sister who was constantly putting her on edge, she hadn’t wanted a husband who did that to her, as well.
And so she’d pushed him away when he’d been honest about not being able to give her those things because his job was dangerous and unpredictable and there might be nights that he didn’t come home at all. She hadn’t been able to deal with that future.
But where was she now? Far worse off. And alone with no one to face what was coming her way.
She shuddered and the shake of her body made Jenna twist to stare at her. She tried a smile but it felt more like a grimace and so she stopped. She kissed Jenna’s forehead. “I would do anything to keep you safe, mija,” she whispered. “Anything.”
ARCHER WANTED TO HIT something. His rage filled him like noxious smoke. Didn’t she realize that he would’ve helped her if he’d known how desperate she was? Did she think he was such a coldhearted bastard that he’d rather have her spread her legs for some thug than offer to have her back? Her wounded and broken expression haunted him, giving him the answer he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He tried to imagine that scenario with him playing the hero for her but he couldn’t follow through. She knew him better than he knew himself, apparently.
It shamed him to think he might not have helped. That he might have very well told her to solve her own problems and closed the door in her face. Hell, he didn’t know. And she hadn’t been able to take the chance, not with that little girl’s life on the line. He didn’t blame her. Even professionals who do that sort of thing—gamble with the lives of others—screw up and people die.
Just ask Kandy Kane. Oh, that’s right. She’s dead, a voice argued with himself, not giving him an inch to breathe.
The detail should’ve gone down by the numbers. Kandy was only supposed to draw out the perp—a sleazy middleman drug dealer named Vincent with connections to bigger fish—but he’d underestimated Vincent’s ability to get at Kandy. Kandy had been killed with a single gunshot wound to the head. In and out. Vincent was never caught and the assignment had failed. Two years of undercover work bled out with their only credible witness. He still saw her open, staring eyes in his imagination, stuck there no matter how many times he was forced to see the shrink.
He paced the kitchen, caught between wanting to apologize for judging Marissa and shouting at her for debasing herself.
Yet, even feeling all these things, he couldn’t stop the overwhelming need to console her. His gaze strayed to the upstairs guest bedroom, and he cursed himself as a coward for not being able to just go up there and say the words she needed to hear. I’m sorry.
Swearing softly, he disappeared into his study, desperate to find something to occupy his mind so he didn’t go and do or say something he’d regret—even more—than he already had.
MARISSA AWOKE TO A soft buzzing and realized her cell phone was vibrating. She frowned as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes to grab the phone. Service here was sketchy, which was something she hadn’t minded. It helped to remain cut off from everything to keep from succumbing to the tempting idea of returning.
But as she picked up the phone, she saw a number she didn’t recognize. She let it go to voice mail and then hurriedly retrieved the message once it beeped softly.
The voice on the other end, soft and menacing, squeezed the air from her lungs.
“Mi corazón, where have you gone? No worries, I will find you. And when I do we shall have many fine hours together. You will beg. I promise. And when you can’t take any more, I will let you heal in the finest luxury so when I break you again it will be that much more sweet. See you soon.”
Her hand shook as she deleted the message, feeling dirty just for hearing his voice in her ear. Fear snaked its way through her bones and her teeth started to chatter. There was no escaping him. Ruben would find her and when he did…She shuddered, knowing he would do worse than kill her.
She hugged Jenna to her and was helpless to stop the sobs that followed.
THE NEXT MORNING ARCHER awoke earlier than usual with the intent to make amends in some way.
The only way he knew how under the circum-stances was to make breakfast. In this, at least, he had some talent.
He wasn’t the typical bachelor who couldn’t scramble an egg without help but then he wasn’t Chef Ramsay, either. He was somewhere in the middle.
He was halfway through the preparations when Marissa came downstairs, carrying Jenna. Her face, pale and drawn, was a direct contrast to the rosy, plump cheeks of her niece.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said brusquely, gesturing for her to sit at the bar. She did, watching him curiously with eyes that showed the strain even if she wouldn’t admit to it. “You okay?” he asked.
“I didn’t sleep well,” she murmured, looking away, which was good because he might’ve winced at her telling statement. He added another handful of cheese to the omelet he was preparing. If he remembered correctly, Marissa liked enough cheese to make it pretty gooey. She smoothed the curls away from the little girl’s forehead and pressed an absent kiss there. It was sweet and done without thought, just natural. Something told him that Marissa had been a constant in this child’s life long before her mother had exited.
“What was Mercedes like as a mother?” he asked, curious to see if his hunch played out.
Marissa smothered a yawn and shrugged. “The same as she was as a sister. Flighty. Impetuous.” She drew herself up and settled the baby more firmly on her lap, a brief smile lighting her lips. “At times generous.”
Realizing she might’ve painted a less than flattering picture, she added, “She loved Jenna with everything she had. But some things don’t come naturally to everyone. Just because women can give birth doesn’t mean they instinctively know how to mother.”
> Archer would agree, with one small caveat. Marissa was a born mother. It was in the gentle touch of her hand on the baby’s forehead, the sweet curve of her smile when she looked at her niece, the fierce determination to protect at all costs.
Jenna blew a spit bubble, eliciting a genuine smile from Marissa as she wiped it away. Her expression dimmed as she said, “Mercedes tried to be a good mother. But it wasn’t until she finally realized that Ruben wasn’t a good man to have around a toddler, even if he was her father, that she really started to put Jenna before everything else. Before that…Jenna was…”
“A nuisance?” he supplied. Marissa responded with a faint rise in her cheeks and he knew she hated to admit such a thing about her sister. Speaking ill of the dead…it was just bad form, but facts were facts. He was starting to get a clearer picture of the situation. In her heart, Marissa didn’t look at Jenna as a niece…but a daughter. It made perfect sense. No wonder she acted like a mama bear, willing to do anything to save that baby. He set the plate, steaming with a gooey omelet, before her along with the cutlery she’d need. “Some people aren’t meant to be parents. It doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” he said softly. Marissa met his gaze and swallowed what was probably a lump of grief and guilt, and slowly nodded.
“It’s hard…I loved Mercedes so much but sometimes…I hated her for what she was putting Jenna through with that man. You don’t know what he’s like, Archer. He comes across as slick and sophisticated but inside he’s rotten.”
“His kind usually are,” he said, eyeing his own omelet without much of an appetite but he sectioned off a piece and ate it anyway. “You don’t rise to the top of any heap without skills.”
“Skills…interesting way of putting it,” she remarked in a soft, wry voice. She pushed at the omelet, probably no more interested in shoveling food down her gullet than he was but food was fuel, and it was never good to go into battle on an empty stomach.
“Eat up,” he instructed, and then in a move that surprised them both, winked. “Or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
Trusting the Bodyguard Page 4