Locke and Key (Titan Book 12)

by Cristin Harber

  ***

  Covered in Cassidy’s blood, Locke watched the crowd run from around him as her body went limp. He had to lay her down because the bastard with the gun was disappearing into the panicked crowd.

  Locke dove, catching the shooter from behind, and twisted him as they crashed to the ground. He smashed his forehead against the man’s and drew strength from the satisfying crunch of a broken nose.

  The man swung up, his undercut landing on Locke’s stomach. Locke bore down, pounding fists into the other’s face. Fuck, the dude was trained. Locke swerved and missed a punch, and the other man cursed—in Russian.

  They’d come for her? No, no, Cassie wasn’t going to go out at the hands of the Mikhailovs. Capitol Hill police crawled all over the place. Surely, someone had locked down the building and was hunting for the other man.

  But this one was Locke’s. They rolled apart and jumped to their feet. The silver glint of a makeshift knife flashed as the man freed a shiv from his jacket. Locke evaded a stab as the man swung, then he grabbed the man’s wrist and wrenched it until it broke, slamming his other fist into his unprotected jaw.

  It didn’t stop the guy. Broken nose, broken wrist—he had to be former KGB, one of those elite-trained fucking assholes.

  Damn. Where were medical personnel for Cassidy?

  Locke took a shot to his face that sent his dome ringing—and shit, a boot landed in his stomach. He staggered back, tripping over Cassidy. Fuck.

  The makeshift knife fell, and they both rushed to it. The Russian had it, slicing across Locke’s thigh as he felt his flesh tear and blood as it flowed down his leg.

  “Locke,” Cassidy hoarsely whispered.

  Both men froze as if realizing that she was there, alive. It gave him new life to fight harder—and maybe the Russian too because he hadn’t done his job.

  The man growled and jerked toward Cassidy with the makeshift blade. Locke grabbed his elbow and cranked back, wrenching himself toward the man.

  The blade stuck the man in his own chest. The deafening sound was just loud enough that Locke could take a breath as he let go and let him gurgle in his own blood. He let him fall and crawled over to his woman as Capitol Hill police in helmets and with AKs barreled down the hall.

  “I’m not armed. She needs to go to the hospital.” He tossed his hands in the air to show that he was weapon-free. “I’m going to check her pulse. I need to see where she’s been shot.”

  They yelled at him to stay still, but fuck it; he didn’t care. They could see what he was doing. Locke searched for a pulse. A faint one. Thank you, God. Where had she been shot? He carefully twisted her shoulder up and saw that it was… near her stomach? Side? Not good.

  Capitol Hill police had them surrounded and were dealing with the dead Russian and rushing in the medical team. Seconds later, the med techs were by Cassidy’s side and pulling Locke away.

  Questions came at him. They knew who she was. But who was he? What did he know?

  The woman who seemed in charge of the medical team grabbed his shoulder. “Who is she to you?”

  “She’s mine.” And if Locke lost her, he would die too.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Locke had his hands buried into the hollows of his eyes when he heard the shuffle of footsteps coming to the hospital’s waiting room. Titan had special privileges that put him in a quiet place as Cassidy was operated on, but Locke wasn’t sure if it was better to be alone or surrounded in a public area by people he didn’t know. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel, couldn’t see. No one could give him reliable information, and her prognosis scared him.

  Whoever walked in waited. Locke didn’t want to look up, because what the hell would happen if they told him bad news? He’d barely survived Sadr City and couldn’t survive losing her.

  “Locke.” Jared’s voice caught him off guard. “You need anything?”

  Hesitantly, he tilted his head up, rolling his bottom lip into his mouth. He couldn’t talk, not trusting his voice for the simple word no, and instead shook his head.

  Jared walked across the small waiting area and chose a seat diagonal to him, leaning over and resting his forearms on his knees. “I can’t tell you that it will be okay. I didn’t even ask for an update before I came in.”

  Locke bit down on his bottom lip and held on to the hurt and the fear of losing Cassidy. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his fingers into his eyes.

  “Sugar sat in a room very much like that, and it kills me that she was ever in your position. Every now and then, I think back to what wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t find each other. Asal and Violet…” Jared looked away. “Asal and Violet wouldn’t be here.”

  Jared’s kids were his world. Locke hadn’t thought about children before, but damn, he had in the last hour.

  “The point of entry, the angle,” Locke mumbled. “It may have done some damage to her… there’s a lot of things they’re working on. Saving her fucking life. But—” His voice cracked. “Cassidy might not be able to have kids.”

  Did she want kids? Their relationship was so new—it wasn’t a topic that had come up—and someone had already stolen that from them. They would never have the chance—or might not—because the FSB were retaliating. Because Ivan Mikhailov was a vengeful fuck.

  They wanted to take her life. No. No… she wouldn’t die.

  Locke dropped his head and struggled for breath.

  “Locke, man.” Jared moved to a closer chair and tossed a hand over his back, clapping him twice, and then just let it hang. “I don’t pretend to know your situation with her. But I do know that it doesn’t matter how you end up with your children, because they’re your kids.” He gave him one more slap on the back.

  Boss Man stood and walked toward the door, but as he pulled it open, he turned. “Cassidy Noble is strong as hell. Feisty as fuck. I don’t know what the doctors told you, but what I say? Brother, you have to believe. Take a breath. Take one minute, one second, any increment of time you need to figure how to survive. Get through it. Because she’s gonna need you.”

  With a nod, he left, and when the door closed and no one else was around, Locke fell apart, sobbing into his hands. He’d done everything he could to protect her. It wasn’t enough.

  He’d known her for so long and never given it a chance. If only they’d talked sooner. If only she’d never worked that job. If only, if only, if only! He slammed his fists on the arms of the chairs. Damn it. Locke wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and hadn’t told her!

  Fucking hell.

  Locke dragged his shirt over his face, wiping his tears away. Five-second increments. Ten minutes. He couldn’t handle the concept of surviving an hour. He didn’t know what to do. But what he wouldn’t do was sit here and fucking cry.

  She wasn’t dead. She wouldn’t die. He sucked in a breath and wiped his face again with his hands, drying them off on his jeans-covered thighs.

  If there was anyone who would kick ass enough, would be pissed enough that she had been shot, it would be Cassidy.

  Locke grabbed a glass of water a nurse had brought him and guzzled it, then he slouched in the chair and waited. With every ticking minute, he decided that it was a good thing it was taking so long. She was fighting, and they were saving her.

  Finally, the door cracked open. A clean-scrubbed surgeon walked in, and paralysis overtook Locke. The breathless, hefty weight held him until the man in scrubs smiled. Thank fuck.

  “She’s going to be fine,” the surgeon said. “Cassidy is in recovery. Her vitals are where we like to see them, and I expect her to wake up soon.”

  Locke’s jumbled words of thanks mixed with an elation he couldn’t comprehend. He had to wait until a nurse walked in. The moment she arrived, Locke jumped to his feet, ready to roll.

  They wound through the halls until he was brought to Cassidy’s side, and as scary as it looked to see his already pale beauty lying in bed with monitors, Locke rejoiced.

/>   “Cassidy,” he whispered.

  Her eyelashes fluttered as he took her hand, brought it to his lips, and simply held it there. Her drugged gaze and lazy grin slowly appeared. He would stand there, leaning against her bed, for however long it took until she sobered up enough to know that it was him.

  “Hi, handsome,” she whispered. “That didn’t end like I thought it would.”

  Always with the sass, his feisty redhead. “No, it didn’t.”

  She drifted back to sleep as nurses and techs came and went. Locke didn’t leave her side.

  Cassidy awoke again, and this time, Locke knew she was more with it. She was still under the hazy gauze of painkillers but not in a stupor anymore.

  “I’m glad you’re still here,” she said.

  His thumb ran over her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I know. I dreamt that we were married.”

  “Good, baby. That’s good. We are. We will.”

  She nodded.

  “Soon,” he said. Hell, what was he waiting for? He’d get the ring later and make it proper. They’d both seen enough horrors not to tempt fate anymore. “Cass, babe. You awake?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Can you open your eyes, Beauty?”

  She gave him the blue-green eyes he needed.

  “I’m asking right now: will you marry me?”

  Her fingers gave a quick squeeze to his. “Find the chaplain.”

  “Oh, man.” He laughed. “Good answer.”

  She tugged on his hand, and he leaned close, worried that touching her might hurt but not wanting to say no. “I’m yours.”

  “Mine.” He kissed her forehead. “Forever and ever.”

  “We’re getting married…”

  Crazy how her whispering made his body light, as though an unknown burden had lifted. A gunshot wound and a hospital bed shouldn’t seem like the fresh start to the life he’d always wanted, but he wasn’t judging what fate doled out anymore.

  Locke kissed her again. “Love you. Whatever the future holds, I’m going to make you happy.”

  EPILOGUE

  Five Years Later

  “Hey, Locke, can you come into the guest bedroom for me?” Cassidy shouted down the hall. She was trying to keep her redecorating plans a big secret, but big secrets weren’t her forte, and Locke could read her like a book. She could walk into a room and blink funny, and he would know exactly what was going on. So… the best plan was to bury her face in the curtains. Perfect for redecorating.

  “What?” Did the man have an entire bag of pretzels in his mouth? “You say something?”

  Okay, her big plan was off to a rocky start. She tried a lot louder. “I said, can you please come to the guest bedroom. Guest. Bedroom.”

  “Give me two minutes.”

  Dang it to hell. This wasn’t working the way she thought it would. “Okay, no problem. I’m on a ladder, but I’ll be here.”

  About fifteen seconds later, Locke walked in. Not that he was that predictable, but she loved his protective tendencies. What did he think she was doing on a ladder? She had no idea. But nevertheless, it worked.

  “I’m here.” He rolled the top of the pretzel bag closed.

  “I see. Thanks.” Cassidy played with a measuring tape and motioned for him to grab the other side.

  “There’s no laddering going on, though, Beauty.”

  “But there is measuring. Grab this end, and tell me what it says.”

  She held out the end of the tape, and he collected it. As he read, Cassidy typed it into her phone. Then they did the same thing on an area rug on the floor.

  “Why are we measuring the rug?” he asked.

  This was almost too easy, almost like she’d written his lines. Cassidy beamed. “Because I want a new rug, babe.”

  “And you want new drapes. Got it. Since this room is never used, sounds like a good plan. I’m gonna go back to my pretzels. Unless you really want to use the ladder.”

  “What exactly do you think will happen if I stand on a ladder and measure things?” Her eyebrow went up.

  “Don’t know, babe. Consider it an excuse to look at my wife’s butt.” He offered her the bag. “Pretzel?”

  “Ah, I guess that makes sense.” She took one and pointed it at him before crunching down. “Because I don’t see you holding the ladder for Winters when he comes over.”

  Locke pulled her in for a hug. “Whatever. I like holding your damn ladder. You like it too.”

  Mmmm. His arms were forever a safe place. “I do.” She leaned back. “How do you envision this room?”

  He loosened his hold but glanced at the floor and then the drapes. “Exactly as it is. I envision like this.”

  She rolled her eyes, tugging him closer to the window. “Pity.”

  “Yeah, no. There’s no pity to not redecorating.”

  She picked up the drape that had come with the house when they bought it. “I could see fuchsias and pinks. Maybe something rosier.”

  He squished the side of his face as though trying to picture it—and failing. Cassidy chuckled and walked to the other window. She fingered the boring fabric. “Or maybe something totally different. Aquas? Blues? Light, dark, I don’t know.”

  “Nope, I don’t see any of that. But if you do, have at it, Beauty.” Locke dug into the pretzels, and Cassidy scowled.

  She didn’t think that her grand-announcement plan was that subtle. “Come on, Locke. Stick with me for a minute.”

  He tossed a handful of pretzels into his mouth, mumbling, “Okay.”

  “Try this…” Cassidy came beside him and stole away the bag, earning a solid dose of side-eye. “Close your eyes.”

  He grumbled. “Really, whatever you want is good. This isn’t my thing.”

  “It so is your thing. You have no idea.” Maybe not the decorating, but… she bumped her hip into his and interlocked their fingers. “Just try it.”

  “All right, eyes closed.”

  She leaned forward to check. Yup. He’d closed his eyes. She wanted to watch him realize what she was talking about. “Think if we decorated this room with pretty pink drapes and little pink rugs and blankets. Or…”

  His brow furrowed, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  “Maybe just little blue blankets. Either way, I think all white furniture and blue—”

  Locke’s lips parted before his eyes opened, rounding—then narrowed as if he didn’t believe his thoughts.

  Welcome to her world.

  Her husband tilted his head downward, almost as though he were assessing what she’d said. “What are you talking about, Cassidy?”

  She beamed, unable to contain her excitement anymore. She licked her lips, suddenly on the verge of crying in the mix of everything. “Decorating in pinks or blues.”

  “Why are you talking about decorating in pinks or blues?” Cautiously, Locke turned, inching toward her slowly.

  “Because we’re going have a baby.” All the tears came. They fell. She couldn’t stop them as she smiled, and his arms wrapped around her, hugging tight.

  Locke had a hand threaded in her hair, the other arm plastering her close to his body. He spent forever promising her the world until he dropped to his knees, still wrapped around her, his cheek pressed to her abdomen, and repeated the same thing again.

  What could she say to the man who never knew if he could be a dad? There were no other words than the same ones he said: “I love you, baby.”

  THE END

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  CHAPTER EXCERPT

  Not final copy and subject to change.

  Victoria woke with her arms wrapped tight to her chest and her mouth was sandpaper dry. She rolled and stretched, letting her arms loosen, and the distinct memory of Ryder rushed into her mind the same time her body registered that the cha
nge in temperature wasn’t the lack of covers, but rather the lack of Ryder’s arm held tight between her breasts.

  “Oh.” She jolted upright. “Oh! Oh God. Ryder… I’m so sorry.”

  Face on fire, there wasn’t much to say that wasn’t an apology.

  “Hey,” he mumbled as though maybe he’d been asleep also. The room was dark, the only light a sliver cast from the adjoining bathroom. “Easy.”

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to find her bearings. What time was it? How long had they been asleep? But as her mind rushed to make sense of clinging to Ryder as she slept, she also took into account that her muscles and mind didn’t hate her anymore. Neither moved like sludge, which had been the case before she’d gone to sleep.

  He readjusted on the pillow and ran a hand over his face as she propped up against the backboard. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Would you stop apologizing already?” Even in the darkness, she could make out his genuine features. His voice didn’t sound annoyed though, it was almost as if he found some kind of amusement in her panicked awakening. “How are you feeling?”

  Wasn’t that the question. Other than her racing heart, which was easily explainable, considering she woke up clinging to Ryder, she was… better. And hungry. That was a huge improvement from the last time she’d been awake. “How long was I asleep?”

  “I conked out after a couple hours, so—”

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She’d held him captive?

  His eyebrows rose. “Would. You. Stop?”

  Stop? Oh, apologizing. “Right. Yeah. I’m just, um, I had you pinned. I feel bad you couldn’t leave.”

  His hearty chuckle fell easily from his lips.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He squinted and grinned. “I wouldn’t call it pinned, and I could’ve left.”

  “Oh, well.” She stumbled for words. “You know what I mean.” Her stomach growled.

  “Hungry?” he asked the obvious, and she didn’t know whether to be more embarrassed by her talking tummy or that she’d put this guy in a position where he didn’t feel like he could leave.