MARCUS (Dragon Security Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Oh, God, Marcus,” I moaned softly.

  “She wanted me to come home. She couldn’t handle my dad’s upcoming surrender date and Bobby’s cancer all at the same time. She’d handled other people’s problems for so long, but she couldn’t handle her own. But if I left, I’d give up my chance to be drafted into the NFL.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sat up quite abruptly. He ran his hands over his head, a low groan vibrating through his chest.

  “I was frightened. Overwhelmed. In less than five months, my entire world had turned upside down. The courts were raiding my parents’ house, confiscating their belongings to pay his debts. My future was disappearing right in front of me. And my mom needed to lean on me, but I felt like a brittle old tree branch, as if any more weight would make me snap.

  “I argued with her. Told her I needed to stay where I was. And my father agreed. He said it was important that I fulfill my dreams. And that struck me as selfish and made me want nothing to do with my future. I was a senior at Notre Dame, cruising through my classes with a 3.9 GPA. I was on top of the fucking world, but it had all suddenly turned to shit. I had to get out of there.”

  He wouldn’t look at me. His eyes were lost in the past.

  “I ran away. I’m not proud of it. I ran away and left my family to deal with their own mess. I joined the Marines, hoping to be sent to Afghanistan, hoping that I’d step on some land mine or IED and that would be the end of my problems. I thought my life was over and I had nothing else to live for.”

  “Marcus…”

  My heart hurt for him. I touched his arm, but he pulled away, sliding back on the bed. He needed to get it all out and he needed me not to feel sorry for him. And I didn’t. I hurt for him, but I didn’t pity him.

  “Mom wrote me and told me how hard it was. She and Bobby were forced to sell the house and move into a small, one-bedroom apartment. I sent her my pay every month, but it didn’t help much. His medical care was astronomical and she couldn’t afford the kind of insurance we’d had when Dad was the CEO of his company. Bobby died during my first tour in Afghanistan. I could have asked for leave to go to the funeral, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to be reminded of all I’d lost.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My mom was all alone. She was the one the courts came to for the remainder of the monies owed. She was the one they pressured and made miserable for what my dad did. She was the one who suffered—this woman who’d been given all these awards by the city was suddenly a pariah no one wanted to know. It turned out she wasn’t the strong woman I thought she was.”

  I pressed my hand to my mouth, the horror of what he was implying washing over me like a cold sheet of snow.

  “I had nothing to go home to when I left the Marines. Nothing but highlights of Blake’s career, the career I should have had. Pictures of Kelly’s wedding to some doctor she’d met at graduate school. Letters from my dad, begging for money to fill his commissary accounts.”

  He shook his head, clearly disgusted. “I came to Texas because Blake Zimmerman was here. If he hadn’t been injured, he’d still be living my dream. I wanted to see that, see what that was like. I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. I wanted to know what I’d missed out on.”

  “You wanted to punish him.”

  Marcus looked sharply at me. “No. I don’t blame him. Guys like Blake are victims of their own success. He thinks he’s entitled to anything he wants. He thinks that every girl, every success, everything is just there for the taking—because it always has been.”

  He touched the side of my face. “I saw him with you. I saw the way he was looking at you. It was the same way he looked at all the girls who chased after him in college. The way he looked at Kelly. And all those girls? He used them and threw them away like they were disposable.

  “I watched you in that restaurant, the way you spoke to your friend, the way you looked around the room. The way you saw through me…knew I was broken.”

  “You heard that?’

  He smiled softly. “Every word.” He sobered, his eyes filled with grief. “I didn’t want Blake to use you and toss you aside. I knew a girl like you would take that to heart. It would break you and there are enough broken people in the world.”

  “So you tried to scare me off.”

  “I knew someone was trying to hurt you. I knew it would make sense to everyone if someone took shots at you. And I was hoping it would frighten you badly enough that you would tell Blake to stuff his surrogacy.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “You’re more stubborn than I imagined.” He ran his hand carefully over the stitches on my leg. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to be a good man, but I’m not sure I’m capable of it. I run away when things get hard.”

  “You haven’t left me.”

  “No.” He met my eyes, leaned in, and kissed me gently. “But I don’t want you to count on me. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Again.”

  “I’m sorry.” I took his face between my hands and stared into his eyes. “That’s not your choice. It’s mine.”

  “Cadence—”

  “I won’t walk away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me because of what you might or might not do. And I won’t give up on this because you think you’re this bad person.” I caressed his cheeks with my thumbs. “The thing is, babe, you were young. You were faced with obstacles no one should have to face all at once that way. And, yes, you ran away. And, no, maybe it wasn’t the best option. But it was the option you chose. You have to own it and move on. It doesn’t have to define you for the rest of your life.”

  He kissed me again. “You’re so much more than I deserve.”

  “But you’re exactly what I deserve.”

  He chuckled a little. “I never thought of it that way.”

  We kissed for a long moment, our lips refusing to give up that sweet contact. And then we slowly fell back onto the mattress and curled into each other, finally falling into a deep sleep that was long deserved. And I…I’d never felt more secure in all my life.

  Chapter 21

  Megan

  “He didn’t go anywhere,” Dante insisted. “Home. And he didn’t make any calls, except a couple of calls to his wife’s cell that went unanswered.”

  “Do I want to know how you know that?”

  He looked a little sheepish, but he didn’t answer, didn’t even acknowledge the question.

  I plopped myself down in my office chair, the wheels turning in my head. “He has to have told someone. Someone who tried to have Cadence killed.”

  “What if it’s his wife?”

  I shook my head. “She wants this baby. I saw her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I shrugged, running the scene over in my head again, Annie Zimmerman collapsing when Blake told her that Cadence had been shot at. It didn’t make sense.

  “It looks like she’s probably the only person Blake told about Cadence. And I looked at the papers they signed with her—”

  “How?”

  Dante shrugged. “I have my methods.”

  I stared at him for a long minute, thinking it was a good thing he was on our side. “And?”

  “There’s a life insurance policy they took out on Cadence in order to help them recoup any losses should she and the child die before they can take custody. It’s worth over a million dollars.”

  “When did it go into effect?”

  “The day it was signed.”

  “And the beneficiaries?”

  “Blake and Annie Zimmerman.”

  It didn’t make sense. I stood and marched to the door.

  “Sam? Did we do a financials check on the Zimmermans when we took their case?”

  “It’s in the computer.”

  I returned to my desk, but Sam was there right behind me, leaning over me to bring up the appropriate file. I watched her, wondering why she was wearing so much founda
tion when she rarely ever wore makeup at all. But then she stepped back and I found myself looking at a literal financial horror, a bank account that paid out more every month than it had coming in.

  “Blake Zimmerman sank all his money into his car dealerships, and they haven’t been doing well. Gas prices, I’d assume.”

  “And you didn’t feel the need to point this out earlier?”

  Sam shrugged. “I thought you’d seen it. But since the target wasn’t him or his wife, I wasn’t sure it had any bearing.”

  I looked at Dante. “Go talk to Blake. Find out where his wife is.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, snapping a playful salute.

  I watched him go, but my eyes fell on Sam. She didn’t think I was looking. She was leaning against the desk, breathing a little heavily.

  “Hey,” I said, taking her hand. “You okay?”

  She caught my eye, forcing a smile. “Fine.”

  “You’re not fine, Sam. What’s going on with you?”

  She shrugged. “You know me, you know my issues.”

  I nodded. Sam had lupus and she occasionally had flare-ups that left her weak and sore. Her lupus was systematic, often leaving her anemic. But she’d had it under control for years. In fact, I’d almost forgotten she suffered from it.

  “Are you having a flare up? Do you need time off?”

  She shook her head. “Just a little anemia. You know how it is.”

  I stood and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pulling her back against me. Sam wasn’t just my best friend. We’d grown up together. She was like the sister I never had, the other part of me that was always there. I didn’t know what I’d do without her.

  “You would tell me if it was more than that, right?”

  “Of course.”

  She pulled away, her back to me until she reached the door. Then she turned, completely composed, completely the Sam I’d always known.

  “I’m making progress on those files. I should have something concrete for you very soon.”

  “Don’t push yourself, Sam. It’s waited this long, a few more days won’t hurt.”

  She waved my words off. “I promised. I’ll get it.”

  I watched her go, wondering for the first time in the length of our friendship if she was lying to me. But I shoved that thought away because it was simply too frightening to consider.

  Besides, I had other things to worry about.

  Chapter 22

  Marcus

  It was late afternoon when I finally woke. I cleaned up the mess we’d sort of ignored this morning and washed up our few dishes. Then I took a cup of coffee and walked on the beach a little. Cadence was waiting for me when I came back, curled up in a chair on the back deck, a soft smile on her pretty face as she watched me. I looked at her and I realized that I could really fall in love with her. There’d been girls while I was in the Marines, girls I said all the right things to to get what I wanted. But none of them had looked at me the way she did.

  I could fall in love with her.

  “We should grill steaks for dinner,” she called as I came closer. “There’s some—”

  Before she could finish, a person dressed all in black, including the hood resting low on their head, slipped out of the shadows of the bungalow and wrapped their hands around Cadence’s face. There was something in the person’s hand, something they were shoving up against her nose and mouth. I dropped my coffee mug and ran, but whoever it was managed to drag her into the house and lock the French doors before I could get there.

  My gun was in the house. I had nothing on me but the clothes on my back.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I ran to the side of the house, but those doors were locked, too. And the front doors. It was all glass. I could break them open…I searched around for a large enough rock, but then a voice called out to me.

  “Get in your car and get the fuck out of here!”

  “I don’t have the keys.”

  “You stole that car. Hotwire it like you did all the others.”

  It was a female voice. A woman? A woman was trying to kill Cadence?

  “I won’t leave without her. Let her go.”

  “She’s already dead, sweetheart. And if you don’t want to be dead, too, you’d better get the fuck out of here”

  My heart leapt into my throat. I wanted to wrap my hands around the throat of whoever was on the other side of the door. But I needed to stay calm, needed to work this out logically.

  “Okay. I’ll go.”

  I backed away, my hands raised. I didn’t hear another sound.

  I started the car and pulled out of the short drive, racing it down the street. The nearest house was over a mile away. There was only one way in and out, just like Cadence had said. I didn’t see another car, a motorcycle…nothing. How did she get there?

  I parked the car a mile up the road, and then quickly ran back. A peek through the bedroom window and I could see Cadence passed out on the bed, the woman pacing a few feet away, talking to herself. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I couldn’t imagine it would be hard to guess. She was working up the courage to kill Cadence at close range. Taking shots from a distance was one thing, but doing it up close? That was a whole other ball of wax.

  But Cadence was still alive. I could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. I still had a chance to save her.

  I walked back to the French doors outside the living room. They were locked tight, but a good smash to the handle and I could probably break in. The sound would alert the shooter, but I was twice her size. I could overpower her easily.

  I found a rock and I was about to slam it down when a hand suddenly snatched out and grabbed my wrist.

  Vincent. He held a finger to his lips and gestured for me to follow him.

  Hayden was standing a few feet away, waiting behind a small shed set off to the side of the bungalow.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Is that really what you want to know?” Hayden demanded. “Your girlfriend’s being held by some maniac and you want to know how we got here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” He lowered the weapon he’d had fixed on the bungalow and turned to me. “You used your real names on the airline tickets. And then someone reported a missing Jeep from the long-term parking at the airport. It didn’t take much to put two and two together. Then Sam did a property search and found this place.” He fixed his glare on me. “Any more questions?”

  “How are we going to get her out of there?”

  Hayden glanced at Vincent who, in turn, held up a smoke grenade.

  “We made a little visit to the Army supply store. You’d be surprised what they have in the backroom that they’re willing to sell when you show off your Marine tattoos.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  “Cadence? Of course. But it’s the shooter I’m more interested in. Shot the hell out of my SUV.”

  “No, the shooter.”

  Hayden’s eyebrow rose. “It’s a woman?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That changes things a little,” he said, glancing at Vincent. Vincent simply shrugged.

  “You take this side,” Hayden said, pointing toward the bungalow. “Vincent will take the far side. And I’ll be in the back. Vincent will throw the grenade through the bedroom window and I’ll break open the back door. You and Vincent will enter at the same time. We’ll converge on the bedroom and take the perp down. Got it?”

  I nodded, but as I did, we heard a weapon discharge. I didn’t stop to think. I started running.

  “Oh, hell,” Hayden groaned, his footsteps close behind mine.

  I burst through the side doors, smashing them with the sheer weight of my body. I ran through the house, jumping over furniture, so determined to get to Cadence that I wasn’t thinking. I just needed to get to Cadence. My imagination was showing me images of her, showing me her body bloody and lifeless in the center of the bed we’d shared until an hour ago. And my h
eart couldn’t take it. It would quite literally kill me if my vision became a reality.

  But then I burst around the corner of the doorway, Hayden grabbing at my shoulder, trying to pull me out of harm’s way. But it wasn’t Cadence’s body on the bed.

  It was Annie Zimmerman.

  Chapter 23

  Cadence

  I was watching Marcus walk toward me on the beach, a smile on his face. It was late in the evening, nearly time for the sun to go down. My stomach was growling and the infection had abated enough that my appetite was finally coming back. The thought of steaks and baked potatoes was more exciting than I cared to admit. And there was this wonderful charcoal grill right here on the deck.

  But then there was a hand over my face, a bitter taste in my mouth, burning my nostrils. I was being dragged backward, Marcus no longer in my line of vision. I felt my hip bounce on the floor, my shoulder wrenched the wrong way, my stitches pulling. It hurt and I think it was the pain that kept the chloroform from working properly.

  I went limp, pretending that I was unconscious and that, too, helped reduce the effect as she took the rag away too soon. She dragged me onto the bed, brushing the hood off of her head as she did. I’d known…I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but when I saw her in the hangar yesterday, I knew—Annie Zimmerman.

  I watched her move around the room, searching. She found Marcus’ gun hanging over the back of a chair. She took it from the holster, and then she left the room. I heard her call to him, tell him to leave. And I heard the Jeep start up. But I knew he wasn’t leaving me. He wouldn’t leave me.

  It was a minute before she came back. She was muttering to herself.

  “Accident,” she said. “It should look like an accident. Murder is okay, but an accident is better. It’s a double payout.”

  It was as if she was repeating something someone had said to her.

  “She has to die. But an accident is better, Annie. More money.”

  She kept pacing, talking to herself, moving faster and faster. I watched her, not sure what to do. I wasn’t sure she’d looked at me since she came back or knew that I was awake.