by Penny McCall
In the split second he had to assess the situation, he saw Alex standing by the bar, Harper leveling a small pistol at her. Tag threw himself at Harper just as he fired the gun again. There was a split second of breathless pain, under his left arm, a phantom that disappeared as soon as he identified it. It was all about Harper, then. And Alex.
Tag caught movement out of the corner of his eye—
Alex getting to her feet. But Bennet still had the gun, not to mention the strength of the truly desperate. Tag couldn’t afford to split his attention. If he had, he’d have seen Alex coming, and he’d have seen the fire of righteous fury in her eyes before she wedged herself between them, gun be damned, and proceeded to kick the shit out of Bennet Harper.
Tag wouldn’t have bet on Alex to be passive, exactly, but hand-to-hand combat with Bennet Harper hadn’t been high on his list of predictable scenarios. And he definitely wouldn’t have expected her to be winning.
Just as Tag was getting over the disbelief that she was getting the better of a man who had her by at least sixty pounds and was a couple miles past sane, Alex took Harper down with a swift knee to the crotch.
“Imagine that,” she said to a retching, groaning Bennet Harper, “you do have balls after all. You just needed someone to find them for you.”
“You finished?” Tag asked her.
She whipped around. She didn’t look happy to see him, and she didn’t say anything, just bent, bracing herself on Bennet’s stomach while she retrieved the gun lying half beneath him. He groaned and retched some more. Or maybe he was sobbing.
Alex walked over and stood with Tag—but not too close—both of them taking in the pathetic picture Bennet made, curled into a fetal position and moaning like he was at death’s door.
“Yeah,” she said, “I’m done.”
“You didn’t, by any chance, work off all your anger on him?” Tag wondered out loud.
She handed over the gun and gave him a look that told him to be grateful she wasn’t armed anymore. “Not hardly.”
———
THINGS MOVED FAST ENOUGH TO MAKE ALEX’S HEAD spin after that. Tag made a couple of calls, and they trooped down to the U.S. attorney’s office. Bennet Harper, cuffed and looking satisfyingly miserable, was trundled into an interview room. Alex made her statement as well, and by the time she was done, Tag was waiting to talk to her.
“Mick and Franky were picked up in Denver,” he said right off the bat. “They rolled over on Harper, and Harper rolled over on Sappresi, just like we figured he would.”
Alex took a deep breath, holding on to her temper. “And?”
“Harper won’t be charged for cheating his investors—”
“Or for trying to get me killed? Or shooting at me himself?”
Tag’s jaw worked a couple of times. “For anything.”
“So you can put Sappresi away for killing your partner.” Alex didn’t know why that surprised her; it had been Tag’s goal all along.
“Nothing sticks to Sappresi,” he said. “This is the first time we’ve had anything to charge him with. Junior is being picked up as we speak, and once his testimony is added to everything else we have, Sappresi won’t see a sunrise for the rest of his life.”
“And what about Bennet? He goes back on the street to find more people to cheat?”
“Um… yes and no.” Tag rubbed at the back of his neck. “He’ll be placed in witness protection,” he finally admitted. “If it’s any consolation, I’m doing my best to see that he winds up flipping burgers in some small town in Iowa, surrounded by cows and corn fields.”
“Great, throw in a trailer park and it’ll all be good.”
“Alex…”
She got to her feet and moved out of his reach.
Tag stood and stepped in front of her before she could make her dramatic exit. “I know you’re angry,” he said. “I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but Harper is losing his life. Not literally, but someone from the FBI will be watching him at all times. He won’t be able to run any cons, and trust me—”
Alex popped up an eyebrow at that turn of phrase and Tag had the grace to look abashed.
“The point is,” he continued, “his life as he knows it is over. There’s nothing he can do but work a nine-to-five job for a nine-to-five salary. He’s going to be ordinary, Alex, and you, more than anyone, know that’s the worst punishment he can get.”
“You’re right, Tag.” It wasn’t just an empty comment, either. Living a blue collar life would be worse for Bennet Harper than prison. So why did she feel this soul-sucking emptiness? And why didn’t they have anything else to say to one another? Or maybe Tag looked so uncomfortable because he did have something to say to her. Odd, but she hadn’t thought he’d have trouble with good-bye. Or that she would.
Before either of them could find the words, a man came out of the back hallway. Tall, dark, handsome in a rugged way, a man with the kind of presence that had every head turning his way. Tag gestured him over, and he obliged, walking with a slight limp.
“This is Daniel Pierce,” Tag said, “the U.S. attorney.”
“Nice to meet you.” Daniel shook Alex’s hand, lingered over it.
She managed to dig up a smile from somewhere. Daniel didn’t smile back. His eyes searched hers, deep brown, compelling, drawing conclusions she didn’t want a complete stranger drawing. She wanted Tag to draw those conclusions, but he was working overtime to turn a blind eye to everything that didn’t pertain to Bennet Harper and Anthony Sappresi.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Daniel Pierce said, leaning in just a bit, making the connection intimate and giving her the impression she could confide her deepest secrets to him.
“I’ll bet you’re hell in court,” she said. And she bet he stacked the jury with women whenever possible. A man like this had to know his effect on the opposite sex. A man like this would use it.
“I am hell in court,” he said. “I’m hell out of it, too, so I’ve heard a time or two.”
“I was just telling Alex that Harper gave up Tony Sap for the murder of my partner,” Tag said, not so subtly easing Daniel aside.
“And for the attempted murder of another FBI agent,” Daniel added, not so subtly refusing to budge, “namely, you. At the moment, I’m not too happy about the attempted part.”
Pierce was smiling, but Alex got the impression it was the competition with Tag more than attraction to her. Daniel Pierce didn’t strike her as a man who opened up easily, to anyone. That kind of emotional distance would challenge some women and have others pausing, considering, and probably cutting their losses early. Alex did neither. She didn’t feel like she’d ever consider another relationship in her life. And that included one with Tag Donovan.
“So it’s over, then?” she said to Daniel. “You don’t need me anymore?”
“Not in connection with the case, I’m glad to tell you. Your testimony may be necessary later, but all you need to do is leave a number where you can be reached, and you’re free to go.”
“I think Alex should stick around until Sappresi’s in custody,” Tag put in.
“That’s not really necessary,” Daniel said. “You should feel free to call me, Miss Scott—”
“Alex.”
“Alex,” he repeated with a smile. “Like I said, feel free to call me any time you want a progress report.” Or anyone else, his tone said.
“I think we need to talk, Pierce,” Tag said. “In private.”
The two men went off a little way and conferred, not bothering to control their expressions, or keep their voices down low enough for her to miss the gist of the conversation if not the actual wording.
Tag was adamant she stay in Boston; Daniel calmly disagreed. Alex didn’t give a damn what either of them thought.
And she wasn’t letting them decide what she was going to do and where she was going to do it. So she headed for the exit.
“You can’t leave yet,” Tag said, putting himself between her an
d the door.
“The U.S. attorney doesn’t agree with you,” Alex pointed out, “and I’d think it would be his call at this point.”
“She’s right, Donovan. The FBI has done their part by closing the case. Alex has agreed to come back and testify if we need her, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be in the building when Sappresi is brought in. It’s bad enough he’s got her name, no point in giving him a face to go along with it.”
“See, you’re going to be in danger when you walk out that door.”
Alex ignored him, looking to Daniel again.
“Actually, once Sappresi hears the facts I don’t think he’ll want anything to happen to you,” he said to her.
Because he’ll be blamed for it. None of them felt a need to say it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true.
Daniel limped over and took her hand. “It was nice to meet you,” he said. “I hope I have the pleasure again soon.”
He sent Tag one of those male-to-male enigmatic looks and walked away.
Alex gave Tag a look that contained a message, too. He got it, but he didn’t budge from in front of the door.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked her.
“I’m going home.”
“Good, I think that’s the best thing. Sleep in, let your mother pamper you for a couple of weeks while you decide what to do next.”
Alex smiled, but even she knew it was shadowed with sadness. After all they’d been through together, that he knew her so poorly, well, it was heartbreaking. “I mean Colorado. I need to get my files from Matt, write my report, and decide what to do next.” Because what she found—or didn’t find—in Colorado would be a huge deciding factor. But she wasn’t saying as much to Tag. He’d think she was a fool, and she’d been close enough to that to be sensitive.
“I have to finish up here,” he said.
“You have to go get Sappresi.”
“I’m going, but I won’t be alone.”
“It doesn’t matter, Tag, you’re back.”
She could see she’d surprised him, that he hadn’t had the time to think it through. “Why did you come to the suite after you left today? Because your gut instinct is back,” she answered before he could. “Your confidence is right up where it was before your partner was killed. And I’m done running, so we both have our lives back.” And those lives, those individual goals, would lead them in different directions.
Tag looked like he wanted to deny it, but after a second or two he slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded. “I have a report of my own to write, but once I’m done, I’m coming to Casteel.”
“Why?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “We still have some things to settle.”
“You’ve got my number,” Alex said. “Just give me a call once you’ve made up my mind for me.”
“You’re still mad,” Tag said, and had to agree when Alex rolled her eyes, as it was the understatement of the century. He took her arm, but she yanked it loose and walked outside, away from the rest of the strike team that was assembling to go out with Tag to pick up Sappresi.
“You’ve done your part,” Tag said to her once they were outside, away from any audience. “You brought Harper down. The case is over as far as you’re concerned—as far as I’m concerned, too, once Sappresi and Dussaud are in custody. That doesn’t mean that you and I… that we… You don’t belong in Colorado, Alex.”
“I don’t belong in Boston, either.”
“You could have a job with the FBI. Aubrey Sullivan, Jack’s friend—”
But she was already shaking her head. “Getting tossed out of airplanes and shot at isn’t for me.”
“Then take a job as an analyst.”
“And sit in an office all day?”
“It wouldn’t be an office at first. More like a bullpen, lots of desks, brainstorming with other analysts and trying to make sense of intelligence… Not helping, huh?”
“I like my own company,” she said simply.
“I thought you liked mine, too.”
“I do, but I can’t live the way you do, Tag. I wouldn’t be happy locked up inside an office, and I’m not cut out to sit in my mother’s parlor and wait for you to drop by between cases.” She met his eyes. “And wonder if you were going to make it back at all.”
Tag ran both hands back through his hair. He paced a couple of steps away, then back. “This isn’t going the way I imagined it.”
“You mean you thought this through? If you’d consider my feelings—”
“I thought I had.”
“Not all of them.”
“Does the word compromise mean anything to you?”
“Yeah. I learned it in the eighth grade just like everyone else. It means two sides of any conflict giving ground so they can meet somewhere in the middle. So how are you budging?”
“I said I was in love with you.”
Her temper shifted down long enough for Tag to see the unhappiness in her eyes, to hear it in her voice. “That was just adrenaline talking, us against the world, the heat of the moment.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
She sighed, lifting her gaze to his. “I love you, too. But how long do you think it would last if I stayed here and took a job with the FBI? How long would you love me if I talked you into walking away and living in some forest or other with me? You’d miss the danger, the rush. You’d get bored. And you’d begin to resent me.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
“Am I? What if I asked you not to go after Sappresi?”
“That’s different. He killed my partner.”
“So this one is personal. What about the cases that came before?”
“They were bad guys. They needed to be taken off the streets.”
“There are a lot of bad guys out there, Tag, and they’re not all going to grow consciences suddenly.”
“S-Somebody else can deal with them.”
She snorted softly. “Real convincing, Donovan. I especially like that little stutter when you said ‘s-somebody else.’”
“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t serious. I’ll quit, right after I bring in Sappresi.”
“Really? You’re volunteering to go with me?”
“Absolutely.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Where are you going?”
“Colorado. My report. Then… I don’t know.”
“Well, that sounds like an adventure.” A tame one. “I could—”
Alex shook her head. “Give it up, Donovan. You know you’ll be climbing the walls inside of two days.”
“You asked me to quit my job—”
“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I asked you what you’d do if I wanted you to walk away from Sappresi, and you answered all my questions.”
The strike team came out of the U.S. attorney’s office, along with Daniel Pierce. Whatever Tag had been about to say, he’d changed his mind, now that five of his coworkers were in the vicinity. Alex figured they’d said everything there was to say, but then, she didn’t have to face anyone the next day. Except herself.
She stepped up to Tag, rested a hand on his chest, and leaned in for a short, bittersweet kiss. She felt his heart kick under her palm, just like hers did. And when she stepped back, she moved her hand to her own heart, a vain attempt to ease the ache there.
“Good-bye, Tag,” she said, and went back inside to call a cab because she didn’t want her last memory of him to be walking away from her—knowing that where he was going he might not come back alive. Better to remember him vital and excited, heading off to do the job he loved. More than he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ALEX SCOTT EASED THE BINOCULARS UP TO HER eyes an inch at a time, barely drawing breath. She made no sudden movement, there was no glint of reflected light off the lenses, no sound, and still her quarry whipped around. Wild, piercing golden eyes, magnified a thousand times, seemed to stare directly into hers.
Excitement shivered
down her spine, mixed with a healthy dose of fear. A full-grown African lion was nothing to mess with, especially half-starved from a brutal dry spell that should have been relieved by the yearly rains a month ago.
Good thing she was a mile away, and there was a herd of zebras milling around the nearly dry water hole between the two of them.
Alex waited until the cat went back to stalking its prey, then she carefully hung the binoculars from the rearview mirror of her open-top Jeep, fielding the look her dog sent her from his guard post on the rear seat. Canine impatience. “Just a couple of shots,” she said, her hand moving over the rifle scabbard and stopping at the camera bag nestled between the seats, “then we’ll pack it in for the day.” Stupid whined, but he did it softly.
It was the plane that set everyone off. It wasn’t unusual for a small plane to fly through that part of the Serengeti, but the sound carried for miles. So did Alex’s curse. The zebras scattered, and the cat took off in pursuit. Alex was pretty much frozen in place, shading her eyes, watching gravity invade her life for the second time.
Facing a hungry lion was nothing compared to realizing that whoever it might be was aiming, unmistakably, for her. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute, and the term “fight or flight” would only have applied if she’d been steady enough to drive. Or run.
If it wasn’t Tag Donovan hanging from that parachute, she’d eat one of those zebras herself. The question was why. It was the possible answer that had her all worked up. Stupid wasn’t too happy about it, either.
He crossed the seat to where Alex stood by the driver’s door. She scratched absently behind his ears and, reassured, he paced to the other side of the Jeep. As the parachute dropped lower, though, he started to whine, his hackles went up, and his attitude switched from doggie perplexity to defend his territory. Alex knew from firsthand experience that his territory included her. Stupid might be a mutt, but he was smart, he was loyal. And he was protective.