Re/Bound (Doms of the FBI Book 1)

by Michele Zurlo

  Malcolm held up a chip that was about twice the size of her camera’s memory card. “That’s a huge processor.”

  Keith took it and studied it closely. “Huge.”

  “I’m leaving.” The statement had come out a little froggy, so Darcy cleared her throat. Both men looked up, but she found it easier to speak if she addressed Keith. “Please lock up when you finish here.”

  Keith’s gaze slid to Malcolm.

  Darcy had to look at him as well. “Leave your key under the doormat. I’ll get it when I come home.”

  Malcolm got to his feet slowly, as if moving too quickly would startle her. “Darcy, it’s late. You’ve had a hell of a day, and you’re wiped out. I can see how tired you are. Why don’t you just go to bed?”

  And sleep in the bed where he’d made love to her so often and so well? No, not with those memories still fresh, and not with his things littering her house.

  “Please make sure you take your personal things with you when you go.”

  Before she could say more or make a fool of herself by falling in his arms and begging him to stay, she turned on her heel and exited the room. Tears blurred her vision, but she managed to hold off the deluge until she got to her sister’s house.

  Amy’s little brick ranch on the north side of Ann Arbor wasn’t far away, but the eight-minute drive took forever. She hadn’t called first, and she didn’t know if her sister would be home. After all, it was Saturday night, and Amy might have a date.

  The moment her sister opened the door, Darcy fell inside and a mass of tears cascaded from her eyes. Amy guided her to the couch, grabbed tissues and a glass of water from the kitchen, and then drew Darcy’s head to her shoulder.

  “Darcy, did something happen with Theo?”

  Unable to speak or raise her head, Darcy nodded. Amy smoothed her hand along her sister’s hair, petting her until she calmed down enough to speak. The pang in her heart just wouldn’t subside.

  “He’s an undercover FBI agent, and I’m his case.” She drew away from the shock and horror that made Amy’s body go stiff, and blew her nose. Then she looked back at her sister’s wide blue eyes. They really did resemble one another, something she didn’t often notice.

  Amy shook her head. “I saw you together. You’re not just a case to him.”

  Malcolm had said much the same thing, most likely to spare her feelings. He needed her cooperation, which meant he had to either have her goodwill or he had to blackmail her.

  Darcy shook her head. “He said he cleared me of Scott’s murder, but he needed me to get close to Victor because he thinks Vic is into some dirty dealings, and he thinks Vic did something to Scott because Scott found out about them.” She sniffled and grabbed for more tissue.

  For several seconds, Amy stared in silent surprise. Then she squeezed Darcy’s hand. “Do you think that’s true?”

  Darcy shrugged her shoulder in a way that indicated she truly didn’t know, but she didn’t doubt the validity of the claim. “Vic paid for my lawyer when the cops brought me in for questioning that one time. He’s been so supportive of me. But Scott didn’t like him. He didn’t want me working for Vic. He was particularly adamant those last few weeks.”

  She thought about it all again, random snapshots of events playing through her head. Amy handed her the glass of water, and she drank it.

  “At least he’s working a different angle to the case. And he told you about himself, so that counts in his favor.”

  Darcy narrowed her eyes and stared at the half-empty glass in her hand. “He didn’t tell me. It turns out he’s the cousin of a friend of mine. We showed up at the same event.”

  Seeing him there, smiling at his mother in greeting, had made her feel hollow inside. He had used her. She had fallen in love with a man who had used her for her connections.

  Amy stared at her, studying her with a calculating expression. “What did he say when you confronted him? Exactly.”

  The worst of her tears had dried. “He showed up at my house with another agent and explained what he suspects about Victor.” She dabbed a fresh tissue at the remaining wetness on her cheeks. “I got so upset at the whole situation that I threw up. Malcolm—that’s his name—told me he wasn’t pretending. That he’d meant every moment he spent with me.”

  She desperately wanted to believe it was true, but he had too many reasons for needing her cooperation.

  Amy smoothed a strand of hair back from Darcy’s face. “I don’t think he lied about that. I’ve seen the two of you together. The way he looks at you, the way he touches you, the way he talks to you—it wasn’t an act. Nobody is that good.”

  Wanting to believe it and afraid to trust in something that would just crush her even more, Darcy shook her head. “It’s funny. I woke up yesterday morning and decided to clean out Scott’s stuff so I could move forward with my life. Then I discovered I was pregnant. I was going to tell Theo tonight, but he’s not Theo anymore, and I don’t know who Malcolm is.”

  Amy did her best to digest that nugget. Darcy had to give her sister credit. She was holding it together far better than she had when Scott had disappeared. Perhaps that crisis practice had prepared her for this one. “You’re pregnant? Oh honey, no wonder you’re so upset. I bet that’s why you threw up. Congratulations.”

  Whether it was or not, Malcolm’s deception had triggered it. “Thanks. It took me a little time to get used to the idea. Whatever happens, I don’t regret that.”

  “I think cleaning out Scott’s stuff is a good idea. Even if you subtract Malcolm from the equation, it’s time for you to close the book on that chapter in your life.” Amy closed her hand over Darcy’s. “Hon, I know it’s hard, especially because you don’t know for sure what happened. But you have to say good-bye to him.”

  Darcy nodded. Her relationship and the pregnancy had spurred her to make that decision, but it was the right choice. Packing up his things would give her a chance for some kind of closure. It was likely all she would ever have. “I know. I need to do that. But it doesn’t mean I’ll be building a life with Theo.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Those should be separate events anyway. Malcolm isn’t replacing Scott. Nobody can replace Scott. But I still think you need to give him another chance.”

  Darcy shook her head. She couldn’t even think of forgiving Malcolm. Yet she couldn’t imagine never luxuriating in the strength of his embrace again, never burying her face in his neck to inhale his comforting scent.

  Amy continued, ignoring Darcy’s silent protest. “You’re not looking at this objectively. If this was just an undercover assignment to him, he wouldn’t have slept with you. He risked this entire operation, which they had to have spent months planning, and his job by doing so.”

  She shook her head harder and remembered Amy’s blind rage over Darcy’s long depression after Scott’s disappearance. “You’re one to talk about being objective.”

  “Yeah, I am one to talk. Malcolm—I have to call him that because I firmly believe he wasn’t playing a role when he was with you—showed me how to be objective. I judged you and Scott without even trying to understand the nature of your relationship. Malcolm talked to me a lot about being dominant, what he did for you, and why.”

  Darcy stared at Amy. She hadn’t been aware of more than a handful of conversations. While they would have given Amy some insight, they wouldn’t have generated this level of acceptance.

  “From the first time you brought Scott home, I loved him like a brother. We all did. That’s why we were so shocked and appalled when you started showing up with bruises and welts. I can’t pretend to understand this need for pain you have. But Malcolm actually spent time trying to help me figure this out. He sends me links to articles and websites, places that have objective information.”

  Darcy pressed the back of her hand to her hot eyes. Scott hadn’t seen the need to reach out. Instead he had taken steps to insulate them from the harshness of the misunderstandings. Darcy had reacted the same way.
>
  Malcolm had gone out of his way to help repair her relationship with her sister. He’d taken steps to deepen the tenuous strands of their fragile bond.

  “I’m so fucking confused.”

  “You have every right to be. You don’t have to sort this out tonight. I have ice cream and chocolate and a ton of movies awaiting our beck and call. Let’s watch a sappy tearjerker and avoid thinking for the rest of the night.”

  That sounded good to Darcy. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Letting her hand drop to her lap, she faced Amy. “I love you. Thanks for always being here for me.”

  Amy smiled, a brilliant, beautiful thing. “I love you too. I’m warning you right now that I get to have the next meltdown and you have to supply the comfort food.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The front door closed softly, and that defeated sound pierced Malcolm’s heart more than if she’d slammed it. At least if she took out some of her anger on the door, it would tell him that her feelings were still strong.

  “I told you not to sleep with her.”

  Leave it to Keith to cut right to the core of an issue. Malcolm glanced up to see that Keith hadn’t stopped methodically tearing apart the inner workings of the dishwasher. Their friendship, forged in the stress of combat duty, could withstand pretty much anything.

  Even so, Malcolm wasn’t in the mood for Keith’s smug superiority. He rubbed the inside of his wrist across his forehead and nodded to the piece of equipment in Keith’s gloved hand. “What do you think of that huge processor?”

  Keith held it up and turned it around several times. “I can’t say I’ve taken apart many dishwashers. I’m the planning genius. You’re the tech geek.” He handed it back to his partner.

  Malcolm studied the large chip and admired Scott’s resourcefulness. Nobody would think to take apart a dishwasher to hide something there. It explained why someone who was supposed to be such a talented technician couldn’t seem to fix a dishwasher. He likely had disabled it in the first place.

  “Bag it. I need to strip the information before we turn it over to forensics for fingerprinting.” Yataines had spent several summers working as a lifeguard at a community pool, which meant his fingerprints were on file with the state. That would be enough evidence to connect him to the processor.

  He continued looking through the skeleton of the dishwasher, but he knew he wouldn’t find anything else. Most of the hardware was in the front, and they’d pretty well dismantled the entire thing. The search was over. He should leave, follow Keith downtown, and get to work on the first solid lead in the case.

  But he didn’t want to leave without knowing Darcy was safe. Even then, he didn’t want to leave.

  “Give her time, Mal. You lied to her. She has to come to terms with that. It was a necessary part of the job. You had to do it.” Keith gathered some of the mechanical guts together. “We’re done here, right?”

  Malcolm nodded. He was done here in too many ways. If he hadn’t slept with her, if he hadn’t dominated her, if he hadn’t asked for the gift of her submission, his subterfuge wouldn’t matter so much. They had built a relationship that relied on trust and communication, and he had knowingly laid a weak foundation. His earlier optimism faded.

  “I’m going to put it back together, see if I can get it to work.”

  Keith shook his head. “You’re going to wait here until she gets back. Mal, she left because she needed to get away from you. Give her time. Let her grieve, and let her come back to you on her own. If you don’t, you’re always going to doubt whether she’s with you because she loves you or because you tapped into her submissiveness and forced her to stay with you.”

  While his buddy’s advice had merit, Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to walk out the door. Besides, Darcy wasn’t weak-minded. She wouldn’t stay in a relationship unless she wanted to be there. He nodded, accepting the wisdom and rejecting the action. “I’ll just be a few hours.”

  __________

  The click of a lock and the sucking sound of a heavy door pushing open woke him faster than a cup of black coffee. Malcolm sat up from his slumped position on Darcy’s sofa. He rolled his neck, and the aching joints crackled.

  Darcy came in, set down a bag, and turned to wrestle the lock for possession of the key. She won, closed the door, and turned, stopping cold when she saw him.

  He took advantage of her silence to cross the room and enter the front hall. She wore sweats and a simple cotton shirt. Her face was bare of any trace of makeup, and her hair was pulled back into a single tail. The skin around her eyes was a bit puffy, but her blue eyes were clear.

  He stuck his hands into his pockets and offered up his excuse for still being there. “I didn’t know when you were coming back.”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor, avoiding him the easiest way she could. He wanted so badly to draw her into his arms. He ached with the need to hold her close.

  She swallowed twice before she spoke. “Did you finish in the kitchen?”

  He nodded. “I put your dishwasher back together and hooked it up. It works now.” It had taken him most of the night and a trip to the parts store, but he’d delivered a working appliance.

  She didn’t thank him, but he hadn’t expected gratitude. A broken dishwasher had been a memento of Scott. She took a step backward, putting more distance between them. The gulf already felt too wide.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She scratched out the admonishment, and her low volume didn’t hide the lingering pain from him.

  “Darcy, please hear me out.” He couldn’t help it. The need to be near her overrode his good sense. He took a step closer.

  She held up her hand, a small but effective barrier. “I listened to you. I understand why you did what you did.”

  His heart soared. Taking another step put her hand against his chest. When she didn’t move, he took that as a good sign. He lifted his hand and rested it on the side of her face. She trembled at the familiar touch. He didn’t know whether brushing his thumb over her brow and her lip would make her submit to him, but he did know it was too precious to force, so he didn’t make the move.

  She moved her hand, sliding it up his arm and stopping when she reached the point when it covered his. She caressed the back of his hand. “But I don’t know who you are. I thought I did, but it turns out I didn’t even know your name. And you’re not even close to being a tech geek.”

  Closing her fingers around his hand, she squeezed it lightly, and then she lifted it away from her face and pushed him away. He wanted to reach for her, to chase her, to tackle her to the ground, but he knew it would only kill any chance he had with her.

  “My name is Malcolm Legato. I am a tech geek. I’m also an FBI agent. Nothing else I told you was a lie. It should have been, but I couldn’t bring myself to invent a past or a different life—”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “Malcolm, I can’t do this right now. You feel bad about hurting me. I can see that. I don’t have the energy or the will to say or do anything to make you feel better about what happened. Please, I need you to leave.”

  Keith had been right. It was too soon. He couldn’t force this, and he had to give her the space she needed to come to terms with the situation.

  Darcy locked the door after him, but she didn’t look out the long windows flanking the solid door to watch him go. She blocked the image of pain clouding his eyes and tightening the lines around his mouth. She believed he was sorry he’d hurt her, and she would deal with that, but not now. The plan of action she and Amy had devised provided guidance now. She picked up the phone and called Scott’s parents.

  She and Scott had made wills as part of their preparation for marriage, so when he went missing, his parents hadn’t been able to take any of his things. When they had turned on her, Darcy had kept everything from them. She had felt justified at the time. Now she felt a hollow pang for the loss of not just Scott, but of the closeness and support of his family. There was a time when his p
arents and siblings had been a second family to her.

  It was time to release all that pain and anger, pack it up with Scott’s clothes and a future that wasn’t meant to be.

  She let Scott’s mother know she was going to box up his things, and his mother agreed to send his father and brother out later that day to pick up whatever Darcy wasn’t keeping or donating to charity. She also felt they needed to know the FBI hadn’t given up on closing the case. While they weren’t overjoyed to hear from her, things were less tense once they understood the new focus of the case.

  She spent the day packing, and she helped load the boxes in the back of the pickup truck Scott’s father brought. As she watched the truck pull away, a sudden wave of exhaustion nearly knocked her off her feet. She went inside, washed her hands and face, and crashed on the sofa.

  __________

  The phone rang Monday afternoon, pulling her from deep in the closet of an empty bedroom where she’d been sorting through clothes. She had never realized how many clothes she’d accumulated. In the past year, she’d completely changed her wardrobe, opting for a bland style that matched her bland mood. Her other clothes, more colorful ensembles Scott had liked to see her wear, had been shuffled off to closets she never visited. Though she had been wearing more colors lately, those had come from new clothes she had purchased with Malcolm in mind.

  While she debated answering, the phone went to voice mail. It wasn’t Malcolm’s ring tone, but she really didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Now that she’d begun the clean out, she threw herself into it with a manic sense that catharsis waited at the end.

  Around four in the afternoon, she hit the same wall she’d hit for the past few days. An hour’s nap had done the trick the night before, though when she woke up, she’d spent time fighting waves of nausea. The intensity and duration varied, but it had come in the evening. So much for the idea of morning sickness.

  When the landline rang that evening, she was at her computer, working on the Future Beat project she needed to present in the morning. A package of opened saltine crackers beckoned. She hated such bland foods, but the websites she’d surfed for answers recommended them and they did help.