No more fear that some random person would connect her to a former identity.
No more heartbreak.
No more pain.
No more Marco…
She choked out a sob.
Marco.
Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t she fall for someone who could love her back? She loved Marco. He’d said he loved her, too. But in the scheme of things she didn’t matter enough. She never would. It was her fate. Unrequited love and unequal feelings.
Death wanted her, though.
She could feel it’s hands pulling her in for a comforting embrace.
The end would be better. No more pain. No more heart break. Just…nothing.
Smack!
Pain radiated from her face. She felt her body move, her head bounce off the concrete, but it was a distant sensation. As though her soul and body were separating. She heard herself, the moan of pain, could taste blood on her tongue and smell her own sweat, but it wasn’t the same anymore. She wasn’t in her body.
Smack!
In a too-sharp moment, both soul and body slammed back together, redoubling the pain tenfold. Her eyes snapped open and she stared into Scott’s twisted, horrible face.
She groaned and tried to focus her eyes, but they refused to obey.
“I’m going to kill you and bring you back.” Scott grabbed her by the shirt, hauling her up off the ground until they were face to face. “Over and over and over again.”
She tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a gurgle.
He had probably one more go. She was close to the end. So close.
One more time wouldn’t be all that bad, would it? This whole thing was almost over. And then what? Whatever was across that divide had to be better than this.
Scott released her and she fell to the ground. Her head hit the concrete and her vision blurred.
Fiona lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
This wasn’t right. She’d been tied to…to…a chair.
Where was the chair? When had she come untied? She couldn’t remember. Everything was fuzzy.
She was going to die.
She didn’t want to die, but it was better than this.
Marco would carry the guilt for her death. If only she could tell him somehow this wasn’t his fault. He’d done all he could, but her past was coming back to finish her finally. She’d hoped it wouldn’t end this way, that she might have a chance at a future, but she should have known better. A person like her didn’t get to be happy. Her only regret would be holding onto her anger at Marco. Yes, he’d betrayed her, but he’d done it for love. Love of his family, love of his heritage, for his parents—love. It was the one thing she understood better than him. Love made her do crazy, stupid things, like fall for a bad boy biker she had no business being with. And yet she had.
Nova filled her vision.
He wasn’t all that tall.
She’d always pictured him…rougher around the edges. Less corporate looking. More like a basement dweller. He’d always seemed like that in chat. It was almost funny how…normal he looked now that they were face to face.
Scott knelt and placed his hand on her throat.
She swallowed and blinked. A tear rolled down her cheek.
This was it.
He’d get one more out of her before he pushed her so far across death’s doorstep there was no coming back.
If only she could tell Marco it was okay. She forgave him. He was the last remaining person who really knew her. Who would mourn her. What she wouldn’t give for sixty seconds with him just to say good-bye.
Fiona sucked down a breath, her throat so raw even that hurt.
Marco…
Was that…?
No, her mind was playing tricks on her.
He wasn’t here. Or maybe he was. He couldn’t save her though, but this was her chance.
“Good…bye…” The words came out garbled and broken.
“What?” Scott frowned and leaned closer, blocking out her Marco-hallucination across the room.
“…Marco.”
It took everything in Marco to not rush down the stairs. One wrong move and Scott could end Fiona before Marco got to her. He couldn’t shoot Scott. In such a small space a bullet could easily ricochet and hit Fiona. Marco wasn’t willing to risk her like that.
He’d almost arrived too late…
Fiona turned her head toward him and her lips moved.
Marco nearly missed the next step.
Hang in there, Fiona…
His foot landed too-hard on the next stair. It squeaked, louder than Fiona’s whispers or Scott’s neurotic mutterings.
Shit.
Scott let go of Fiona and whirled, a gun already in hand.
“You!” Scott bellowed.
Marco dove down the stairs, ducking and rolling.
The gun went off, the sound reverberating in the concrete space. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to get behind, but at least Scott was a shitty shot.
Scott took another shot and another. Chunks of concrete flew up from where he hit the walls and the foundation. Marco’s ears rang, but he wasn’t hit. At least not that he felt.
Marco had to immobilize Scott no matter the cost. Fiona’s life depended on it.
Marco dove straight for Scott.
The gun went off.
White-hot fire seared Marco’s shoulder seconds before he barreled into Scott. They tripped over Fiona’s legs and went down hard. Marco got one hand around Scott’s wrist, the gun still in the other man’s hand.
He had to get the gun out of Scott’s grasp.
Scott elbowed Marco in the face and kicked, but he wouldn’t let go. Scott wrenched his arm and the gun went off again. Marco slammed the man’s hand against the ground. He lost his grip on the firearm and it clattered to the floor, skidding away.
Finally.
Marco levered up and punched Scott, pushing the pain in his shoulder aside.
That was for Fiona.
For hurting her.
For scaring her.
For taking away her life.
Again and again Marco wailed on Scott, until the man’s eyes rolled back and his head lolled to the side like a broken doll’s.
“Marco! Marco, stop, man.” Felix pulled him off Scott.
Blood coated Marco’s arm and chest. Some of it was his, some of it Scott’s.
Fiona sat up against the wall, Scott’s gun in her hand. Her head hung to one side and dark bruising colored her neck, shoulders, face… It was awful. And it was his fault.
“Fiona…” Marco shook off Felix’s hold. He had to go to her. See if she was okay. The medic in him grabbed control. Every second counted.
Scott pushed up off the ground.
“You—stupid—fucking—”
“Marco!” Felix roared.
Marco turned toward Scott.
He had another gun. Where the hell did he have another gun from?
Scott yelled.
The gun went off.
Marco sucked in a breath.
This close, Scott couldn’t miss.
Marco blinked, barely daring to breathe. Nothing hurt.
Scott glanced down.
A crimson stain spread across his chest, leaking down over his stomach.
Marco glanced at Fiona still holding Scott’s other gun in both hands, propped up on her knees.
Scott lurched forward. He went down, face first.
Felix shook off the shock and dropped to a knee, one hand on Scott’s back, the other at his pulse.
Marco rushed to Fiona’s side.
She had blood on her now. Why was there blood? There hadn’t been this much blood before.
“Marco…”
“Shh, don’t say anything.” He put the gun on the floor. Her left arm was soaking wet. He pressed his hand against the worst of it, and sure enough she’d been hit.
That last shot when they’d been on the ground…
It could have gone straight f
or her, or bounced off the concrete and hit her. There was no telling.
“I forgive…you…Marco.”
“Hang in there, Fiona. Just hang on.” He glanced up. “Felix, the kit. From the truck. I need it now.”
Between the blood loss and damage to her throat, not to mention everything else, she was in rough shape. She had to hold on. He had to save her. He couldn’t lose her, not like this. It was one thing if she chose to walk out of her own, free will. He wouldn’t let her be taken from him like this.
26.
Fiona reached for the pillow behind her, but it was awkward only having one mobile hand.
“Here, let me.” Marco was there, ready to help.
She should be grateful. Thankful. Something other than irritated. She was alive because of him. But right now she just wanted to throw something.
“Thanks.” She eased back into her throne of cushions.
Ian said she’d only been out for a day, but it felt longer. The hotel room had that lived-in-too-long look to it, but that could be in part to the surplus of medical supplies on every available surface.
Had she known Marco was also an EMT?
She did now.
Her arm was stitched up nicely, and he’d been the most attentive nurse she’d ever had.
Didn’t change the fact she wanted to bash him over the head.
The commercials flipped off and the live broadcast started again. The wide shot was of the NueEnergy building she’d worked in for years. Uniformed officers and lots of people in FBI jackets went in and out.
Randy must have plugged the drives in as soon as he could.
The data, all of it, was out there.
NueEnergy was just the tip of the iceberg. Their connections were everywhere, and they’d taken the whole organization down in a very public fashion. By accident, more or less.
“Authorities have just confirmed that several tons of hazardous material were illegally dumped outside of Moab, Utah,” the news anchor said, staring right at her.
The broadcast flipped to an on-scene reporter.
All that mattered was that the truth was out there.
“Are you happy now?” Her neck hurt too much to look at him, but she could see his stony expression out of the corner of her eye.
He’d been proven right. This was what he’d wanted. Why they’d met. Why wasn’t he jumping for joy or something? Someone would have to pay for the cleanup. The Benally family home might be tied up in legal proceedings for a while, but they could likely make a case for getting it returned.
She leaned her head back against the pillows. It still felt too heavy. She closed her eyes and listened to the continued live coverage of the NueEnergy meltdown. Now, it was the next Enron fiasco, only worse. There were confirmations of a dozen private planes being forced to land so the decision makers behind this corporate iceberg could be arrested. The scope of it was staggering. How many companies were going to go under? How many people were losing their jobs?
The good of what they’d done was hard to see amidst all the bad. It wasn’t even over. The investigation, ferreting out all the tendrils of the parent company—it would take ages. They wouldn’t have been able to do so much without Ghost. He was…scary. Marco had aimed Ghost at her and he could so easily have flayed her alive. Instead…hell, she didn’t know what she was or where she was going.
She was just…tired. And hurting. It was hard to tell if the pain was physical or emotional. Yes, she’d forgiven Marco in those moments when she’d thought she was going to die. She didn’t regret it. He’d moved heaven and earth to keep her alive and bring down the bad guys. But the hurt was still there. She didn’t know if she could trust him again, if love was enough.
Her mother hadn’t known when to stop loving her father, and it’d nearly killed her. Even after he was gone, she’d been a shadow of her former self.
Fiona didn’t want that. She didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t that. The crazy thing was, she might not have a choice in the matter. Her heart had already decided in favor of Marco, even if her brain couldn’t get behind the idea.
Marco watched Fiona doze for the last time.
It was over.
All of it.
Even the mess with Danny. He’d gone home almost immediately, scared shitless and begging forgiveness.
Marco reached out a hand and gently brushed Fiona’s hair off her cheek. The painkillers he’d given her would keep her out for a bit. He’d have liked to have said goodbye, but it wasn’t in him. Leaving her, letting her go, that was the hardest thing he could think of doing. And he was going to do it.
He’d told her he loved her, and he meant it. To prove it, he’d do the hardest thing he’d ever done. Leave.
Maybe he could go on so long as she was out there somewhere, happy and healthy. He wasn’t good enough for her. He hadn’t loved her the right way or realized it soon enough. Quite frankly, he didn’t deserve her, and he wasn’t going to try to hold her back.
Fiona had a life ahead of her. One free from fear and the threat of Nova or Scott or whatever the hell his real name was.
Marco wasn’t going to clip her wings or weigh her down. Maybe someday she’d find someone who would deserve her. Yeah, Marco would want to punch the guy’s lights out, but he hoped she’d find that someday. Even if it wasn’t him.
A knock at the door signaled his time was up.
He leaned over and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles for the last time.
His world fractured a little as he rose to his feet. All his life he’d survived without her, and now that he’d known her for a moment, he didn’t know how he’d go on. He’d figure it out, because he had to. He wasn’t a pansy ass that’d waste away because he’d fucked up something good. No, he’d learn from this mistake. There would never be another Fiona in his life, but he could be better because of her. She’d taught him that much.
Marco grabbed his bag from the closet and slung it over his shoulder.
It was over. Really over.
He peered through the peep-hole, just to make sure, then flipped the bolt.
A man in slacks and a button down stood on the other side. He had a lanyard around his neck that dubbed him Eric.
“Mr. Benally.” Eric peered over his shoulder. “How is she?”
“Anyone else with you?”
“Uh…downstairs.”
“Good.”
Marco shouldered past. He should say more, give the guy some indication of Fiona’s physical state. She had bumps and bruises galore that only time would heal. The arm was the worst of it and even that was looking pretty damn good, all things considered.
He put one foot in front of the other. It felt as though little parts of him broke off, littering the floor, with every step he took.
She’d changed him, and he didn’t know how to go on without Fiona, but damn if he’d try his best. For her.
The Marshall’s would take care of her now. She was, without a doubt, innocent. As for the rest of them, the authorities had just about thrown up their hands and buried their heads in the sand. Between the mess Marco and his team had created and someone pulling strings to keep attention off Ghost, they were getting out of this unscathed.
Marco would have to thank Ghost at some point. He’d disappeared after they found Scott. Hadn’t even bothered to find out if Fiona was alive or dead. There was a lot about Ghost that wasn’t right, but he’d more than upheld his end of the bargain. Marco wished him well.
Love sucked, that was for sure.
It stole bits of him, and he didn’t think he’d ever get them back.
The only thing to do…was to go on.
A week later…
Fiona stared at four pictures of herself with four different names.
“You can go back to being any one of them, or you can start fresh.” Eric leaned against the chair across from her.
The Marshalls were being overly helpful. She found it suspicious, but chances were they wan
ted at least one thing wrapped up easily. Letting her off the hook, out of their hair, and back into society was a matter of paperwork. Nothing more.
She pushed those girls away from her.
Even her birth name felt weird now.
“No, thanks,” she said.
“Are you sure? I know you want to avoid notice, and your Fiona identity was pretty tightly linked with NueEnergy…”
“If they have questions, I can’t answer them.” She shrugged.
The official story was that she’d been hit by a car, and been in a short coma during the the NueEnergy debacle, which was an easy explanation for why she hadn’t been around, and a convenient way to explain away her injuries. The Missing Person Alert was ruled a case of mistaken identity and shoved under the proverbial rug. Everyone was willing to look the other direction right now.
Eric pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
“How are you doing?” He stared at her, his gaze so intent and perceptive.
Fiona shrugged.
Inside she was…dead. Hollow.
Marco was gone. He’d left while she was asleep and she didn’t know what to do.
He’d stolen a part of her. He hadn’t given her the opportunity to decide if she wanted to be with him. He’d just…gone.
And that was her fault.
Hadn’t she told him that if he loved her, he should leave her?
“Fiona?”
“Sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Just…thinking.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay. I guess…this is it. You’ve got yourself set up. There’s money. Identification. Paperwork. It’s all here.” He slid a thick folder across to her.
It was the severance package of the Witness Protection program. She was set for a while, at least until she figured out what she was doing with her life.
“Where are you going to go?” he asked.
“Home.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and the answer felt right. “I’d like to see my parents again.”
“If you need anything, unofficially, I mean, let me know, okay? I know people.” Eric smiled. He’d always been friendly yet professional. She’d pegged him as gay because of his shoes but didn’t know for sure. Not that it mattered. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, and she didn’t know the first thing about him.
Dangerous Protector (Aegis Group Book 5) Page 27