by Marie Jermy
She shook her head. She knew if she ate anything, she’d spew it all back up again. The town was swarming with agents and cops, yet she only felt marginally safe. Forrester, despite the fact he was injured, was still out there. She wouldn’t completely relax until the monster had been caged.
“Gentlemen?”
Darcy watched as both FBI agents waved Harrison away as if he were nothing more than a pesky fly. Jeez, Harrison was only being polite. He departed with a glare for the two agents and a warm smile for her.
“So, Miss Forbes, going back to what we were discussing before. Did you see Officer Anderson shoot Mr. Forrester?”
She scowled. No, she fucking hadn’t! She’d been kissing the leather of her Jeep’s passenger seat. She’d already said it three times. This was her fourth explanation of her account of the bloody and near tragic events, and still they questioned her. Matt and Rex Latimer had gone with Raven in the ambulance. That had been over four hours ago, and other than a text from Matt informing her they were at St. James Hospital in Butte, she’d heard nothing.
She missed Matt. She really did. When Forrester had showed up intent on killing her, Matt had put his own safety aside to protect her. It was at the moment when Matt had jumped up and fired her Magnum revolver that she knew she’d fallen in love with the gorgeous, cocky, humorous, and honorable cop. He cared for her like no other man she’d known. Daniel Ferris didn’t count because although they were good friends, there had been no romantic inclinations on either side. Matt had been the man to melt the ice around her heart. He’d also put his career on the line for her. He’d pleaded her case to Chief Connors when she’d assaulted Mark Raven, so it was only fair and right that she try the same. There was no way she’d allow Matt to lose his job, a job she knew he loved and excelled at.
And speaking of Raven. In a way, he, too, had saved her life, and had ended up almost paying the ultimate price. She genuinely hoped he made a full recovery. “I’m sorry, but what are your names again?” Darcy asked with a cool, saccharine smile.
Of course, she knew their names. Agent Mark Mackie seated to her left across from her was white-skinned, tall, and thin, with short, sandy hair and hawk-like yellowy-brown eyes. To her right, and the somewhat nicer of the two, Agent Toby Mason was black, short, and stocky, with dark hair and eyes. Both wore black suits. They reminded her of Laurel and Hardy rather than Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones from Men in Black.
They ignored her sarcasm. She took another sip of the strong, sweet coffee. “Referring to Kurt as mister would imply he’s a gentleman. He’s not. He’s a shit-faced psycho. And you should be out there searching for him.”
Agent Mackie gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Oh, believe me, we are.” He looked across at Mason, who shook his head. Did that mean interview over and she could go and be with Matt? “One more thing…” Obviously not then. “Do you have a weapons permit?”
She cursed under her breath. “Yes, yes, yes, and for the final frigging time, yes. When can I have my Jeep back?”
“Not for a while, Miss Forbes. It’s evidence. As are all of its contents.” Mackie gave her another thin-lipped smile. “Do you have any questions, Miss Forbes?”
Yes, probably a million, but at that point in time, she couldn’t put a single one into words. She knew what she did want, though. She wanted to be with Matt. “Can I go now?”
“As long as you don’t go far,” Mackie said. “We need a full statement.”
A full statement? Darcy snorted. Jeez, they could have saved themselves a lot of time—time spent looking for and capturing Forrester—if they’d written down what she’d said, instead of playing good cop, bad cop.
Just as Darcy got to her feet, two men and a woman entered the room. She recognized the men immediately. Chief Connors looked pissed and harassed. Matt’s father, Ross, looked relieved to see her. The woman was about five three, with chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, and even from that distance, Darcy could see the woman’s eyes were a vivid emerald green. She, too, was expressing relief. She didn’t know why, though, because Darcy was certain she didn’t know her. But as she drew nearer, and with a familiar roguish smile that lit up her green eyes further, realization struck as to her identity. She was Matt’s mother, Jess Anderson.
Jess was a lot younger than her husband. Not that Darcy thought it mattered. She could feel the love between them. Sometimes you couldn’t help who you fell in love with, whether they were older, younger, different race or religion. Look at her. She’d sworn blind she wouldn’t fall for another cop, yet she’d fallen in love with Matt.
Ross reached her first, and she found herself enclosed in a bear hug. Normally, she would have balked at the closeness, but at the moment, it felt really nice to have somebody comfort her. She’d waited a lifetime for love and reassurance from her father, but she’d gotten neither. He couldn’t have cared less about her. Matt’s father, on the other hand, a stranger, genuinely seemed to be concerned for her. His hug gave her a sense of security, as if he was welcoming her into the Anderson family. And right then, Darcy happily went.
“Darcy, are you all right?”
She looked up into Ross’s sky-blue eyes, so much like Matt’s, and smiled. “Yes.”
“We would have come for you sooner, but one of the officers from Butte mistakenly thought you’d been taken to the police station in Helena. So we went there. When we found out you weren’t there, we came back where this”—Ross jerked his head toward Connors—“jackass wouldn’t tell us if you were still here or not.”
Connors opened his mouth but snapped it shut at the green-eyed glare Jess shot him. Darcy suppressed a laugh. “Helena’s quite a distance.”
Ross smiled. “My wife isn’t known for being a careful driver. She can really press the pedal to the metal.”
“Have you spoken to Matt?”
“Yes, but only briefly. He told us what happened and about his suspension.” Ross glared at Connors. “He’s okay. He just needs you.”
“But before you go, Darcy. I’m Jess. Matt’s mother,” Jess said, formally introducing herself. “It’s so good to meet you at last. Shame it isn’t under happier circumstances.”
Although Jess’s hug was brief, it was warm, friendly, and dare she say it…motherly. Darcy immediately liked her. They were definitely going to get on like a house on fire. “You’re not coming to the hospital with me?” she asked.
Jess shook her head. “We’ll go later. I want to have a word with these two agents first.”
Darcy had forgotten all about Mackie and Mason until Jess mentioned them. They were still seated, their whole persona an epitome of impassibility. “Good luck with that,” she murmured. “Since my Jeep is evidence and Matt still has my keys, I’ll go call a cab. No, hang on a minute. I haven’t got any money. My purse is in my Jeep.”
“I’ll take you,” Connors volunteered.
Darcy suppressed a grin at Connors’s wince when Jess grabbed his upper arm with a viselike grip. “No, you don’t. I want a word with you, too. I wanna know why you’ve suspended my son. For the sake of your balls, you’d better have a damned good reason, Pete.”
Darcy covered her snicker with a cough. Matt’s mother certainly was a force to be reckoned with. Even Mackie and Mason’s deadpan faces turned questioning. She had wanted to talk to Connors about Matt’s suspension herself but decided to leave her argument until later, basically because she hadn’t got a clue what to say.
“Jess, honey, play nice,” Ross told his wife while pulling a set of keys from his back jeans pocket and handing them to Darcy. “Here, take my truck.”
“The monster truck? Oh, wow, thank you.” Darcy barely managed to contain her excitement. “But if I take yours, how will you get to the hospital?”
“Don’t worry,” Jess said. “We have another car. Just go to our son. He needs you.”
Her tone brooked no arguments. Darcy wouldn’t anyway. Going to Matt and being by his side was as important to her as breathing air.<
br />
* * * *
As he exited the elevator onto the third floor of St. James Hospital where ICU was located, Matt decided he hated hospitals. The smell of antiseptic was everywhere. It seemed to emanate from every orifice of the floor, which, apart from the hum of various life-support machines, was eerily quiet.
He’d been at the hospital now for over five hours, first in ER and the relatives’ room waiting for news of Raven’s welfare. Then after being told Raven’s operation had been a success and he would make a full recovery, Matt had gone to the cafeteria. He’d really wanted to down several whiskies, but coffee had to suffice because St. James was no Rustlers.
Rex Latimer had stayed with him for a while but had since left to go home to Ramona, and no doubt to the FBI who were investigating the shooting. Matt knew that because he had been contacted on his cell by two agents, Mackie and Mason, he believed their names were, telling him they wanted to interview him about what had happened. He knew he should supply the FBI with his account but was in no mood for their questions. Besides, they surely had Darcy’s statement to satisfy their investigation for now.
Matt approached the reception desk. A pretty, blonde nurse looked up from her paperwork, expressing concern at the bloody uniform he still wore. Earlier, he’d washed Raven’s blood from his hands, but felt sure it was still embedded under his nails and would be for a long time to come.
Beyond the desk were the glass-fronted rooms where patients were hooked up to machines, fighting for their lives. The very end room on the left was where Raven was. He knew that because on just the other side of the glass talking to a doctor were Jack and Lindsay, Raven’s parents. Both looked as pale as their son.
“Sir, can I help you?”
The nurse’s words brought Matt’s attention back to her. He gave her a half smile. “Er, yeah. I’m Matt Anderson, and I was wondering if I could see Mark? Er, Mark Raven, that is.”
“Are you family?”
“No, but…” He trailed off and shrugged. This was a bad idea. “Er, never mind. I’ll, um, maybe come back at a more convenient time.”
The nurse smiled and rose to her feet. “Wait there.”
She almost glided across the shiny, disinfected floor to Raven’s room, where the doctor was just coming out. A brief conversation ensued between her, the doctor, and Jack Raven. Jack then glanced in his direction, and Matt definitely knew this had been a bad idea. Jack was going to chew his ass to bits.
Matt turned and walked back to the elevator. However, just as he went to push the call button, Jack caught up with him.
“Mark’s awake and is asking for you.”
“How is he?” he asked, instantly knowing that was the stupidest question ever.
Jack’s tone was gruff. “Come and see for yourself.”
Matt followed Jack. Upon entering the room, he returned Lindsay’s small smile and approached the bed. The beeping from a heart rate monitor preyed upon Matt’s already frayed nerves. With an oxygen mask covering the lower half of his face, and tubes and IV lines in both his arms, Mark lay unmoving, his black hair a stark contrast to the white, sterile pillow. He wore a blue hospital gown, which would have struck Matt as funny if it weren’t for the fact that he knew beneath the material were the bandages covering what could have been fatal gunshot wounds.
“He’s still groggy from the sedation and the drugs he’s receiving,” Lindsay informed him softly.
Mark then stirred and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times, as if clearing his vision. “Matt?” he croaked behind his oxygen mask. “What happened?”
Matt bent lower so Raven could hear him. “You saved mine and Darcy’s lives. Got shot in the process.”
“Fuck!”
“In a word, yes. Thank you.”
“Matt, about Sammy? What I did. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Get some rest. I’ll come back tomorrow maybe.”
“Friend or foe?”
Matt hesitated for a moment. “Friend.”
Raven nodded, then his eyes drifted shut and he slipped back under sedation.
Jack Raven’s tone was brusque. “I think you should go now.”
Matt nodded at him and went to leave, but then Jack blocked his path. He drew in a breath. Here it comes. One chewed ass. However, the reprimand was not forthcoming. Jack squeezed his shoulder instead and simply said, “Thank you.”
He didn’t want to be thanked. He’d done nothing to warrant it. “It’s Rex Latimer you should be thanking.”
“I know. And I will. But you also played a part in saving Mark’s life.”
Matt shrugged. “I just did what Rex told me to do.”
“Even so, thank you.”
Matt suddenly had the urge to puke. Nodding, he made a hasty retreat, asked the same nurse on the reception where the men’s restrooms were, and was pointed to a door farther along from the far ICU room on the right. He made it just in time and emptied the contents of his guts into the toilet.
Only feeling marginally better, he went over to the sink and flushed out the acidic taste in his mouth with cold water. He straightened and stared at his colorless face in the mirror. “Jesus fucking H. Christ.”
He instantly retracted his words. Though he wasn’t exactly religious, now was not the time to take the name of the son of God in vain. He should be thanking the guy, not cursing him. “Sorry,” he whispered, casting his eyes up toward the ceiling. Then, moving to the side of the basin, Matt sagged against the wall and pressed his forehead into it hard.
Like a ten-ton truck, his actions hit him. He’d shot a man, wounded him, possibly killed him. Yes, it might be part of his job description as a cop, but in reality, he’d never thought he’d have to use his gun, not in Silver Creek. Okay, it had been Darcy’s, but that was beside the point. It didn’t alter the fact, he’d used a gun on another human being, even if Forrester had fired the first shots and hadn’t been intending to ask questions later.
While trying to sort out his messed-up head, Matt heard the door to the toilets open. Whoever entered, he couldn’t give a fuck as to what they thought at the sight of him almost hugging the wall. A familiar and faint exotic odor filled his nostrils and two brown sugar–colored arms curled around his waist. She was here. His heart starting to jackhammer, he turned around and drew Darcy into his arms, holding her tight.
“I won’t think any less of you if you want to cry.”
He refused to cry. Real men didn’t cry, and he hadn’t cried since his first day at kindergarten. Yet Matt’s throat felt thick, and the back of his eyelids burned as he buried his face in Darcy’s neck, breathing in her scent, absorbing her strength.
He needed her strength, because at that moment, he’d never been so scared in his life. He’d nearly lost her. If anything had happened to Darcy, if she’d died at the hands of her bastard ex, Forrester, then Matt would have killed himself. He was in love, he knew it, could feel it in his bones, his blood, his heart, and his soul.
“Never say never, little bro. I guarantee you’ll feel the same way I do when the right woman comes your way.”
Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Ross, he silently replied. Right as usual. Now get the fuck out of my head!
“How’s Mark Raven?” she whispered as she stroked her hands up and down his back. The gesture was very soothing, and he held her closer. Her soft body aligned against his hardness then registered. Amazingly, considering how shitty he still felt, his cock twitched.
“He’s gonna make it.” He straightened and drew in some deep breaths, composing himself further. He ushered her out of the restroom and toward the elevator. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
Downstairs in the lobby, and on their way out of the hospital, Matt and Darcy were met by a stern-looking Connors. His expression softened, and he gestured them over to a large potted plant that afforded them some privacy. Matt didn’t really want to talk to what he supposed was his former boss, but because Connors was carrying
his equipment belt and hat, his interest was sparked.
“Matt. Miss Forbes.” Connors tipped the brim of his hat. “How’s Mark doing?”
“On the road to recovery,” Darcy answered.
“That’s good.” Connors paused for a second and then handed Matt his belt and hat. “These are yours, Matt. Officer Anderson.”
Matt donned his hat and then buckled his equipment belt around his waist. “I thought I was suspended, sir.”
“Really? Whatever gave you that impression?”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “The words ‘You’re suspended,’ maybe?”
Connors seemingly ignored the remark and went on to explain that Kurt Forrester was dead. His rental car had been found with him still at the wheel in a ditch off Interstate 15 on the Montana–Idaho border. Apparently he’d suffered a fatal cardiac arrest due to heavy loss of blood. Matt felt Darcy sag beside him. He put his arm around her waist to steady her. “Are you okay?
“I am now.”
Like the sun outside, her smile was bright and warm. It made Matt feel like a fucking hero, when he wasn’t. But he had to concede, it made his actions a lot more digestible. He returned her smile and held her tighter. She pinched his ass, and heat instantly rushed straight to his cock.
“I know the case is officially being wound down, what with Forrester being dead and that, but the FBI still need your statement.”
Matt eyed Connors steadily. “I know, sir. I just need time to get my head around things. I’m sure you understand.”
Connors squeezed his shoulder. “I do. Just don’t disappear.”
Disappearing was exactly what Matt had in mind. And funnily enough, disappearing was exactly what Connors did. He couldn’t have sprinted away faster if he’d tried. The reason being, Matt spotted his parents entering the lobby. He let Darcy go, and his mom put down the bag she was carrying—Darcy’s if he wasn’t mistaken—and near enough jumped into his outstretched arms, hugging him tighter than a boa constrictor crushing its prey. His father squeezed his shoulder. Okay, what was with the shoulder squeezing? First Jack Raven, then Connors, and now his dad.