Prescription: Makeover

by Jessica Andersen

  “Bingo,” she said, adrenaline spurting. Without another thought, she grabbed the heavy porcelain top off the toilet and swung it at the wall.

  The blow punched through with a hollow, echoing sound that was followed by a rattling as chunks fell inward and down what looked like a vertical chimney lined with thin slats of old, rough-hewn wood fastened with pegs and rose-head nails. Probably a dumbwaiter shaft without the dumbwaiter, she figured. Perfect.

  “Damn, I’m good,” she said, some of her normal cockiness returning as she hit the wall a few more times, clearing most of the rectangular opening.

  Then she stuck her head through and froze. The shaft was very narrow, the space beyond it very dark.

  She straightened slowly and backed away as her breath tightened in her lungs. I can’t do this, she thought. No way.

  Except there was no other way, she knew. It was either the shaft or she let Smith win.

  Taking a deep breath, she hiked up her skirt, climbed up on the vanity, grabbed onto either side of the opening and pulled herself through. Her stomach clenched hard as she scooted up so she could get her legs all the way in, so she was braced in the shaft with her back against the rough slats on one side, her shins and forearms pressed against the rough ladderlike surface on the other.

  It was a seriously tight fit. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and her arms started to tremble with the strain of holding herself.

  You can do this, Ike, she told herself, trying to believe that she was just as tough, just as badass in ruffles and bare feet than she was in leather and boots. For William.

  With his image at the forefront of her mind, she started shimmying down the shaft just as she heard the padlock rattle and the door to her room open. Moments later Smith’s voice bellowed, “Where the hell is Celeste?”

  Ike’s already high pulse accelerated to rapid-fire, and she started wriggling down as fast as she could, knowing there was no way he wouldn’t see the mess in the bathroom.

  Sure enough, she heard an enraged shout moments later. “In here!”

  Heavy footfalls sounded above her, echoing all around her in the musty shaft. Cobwebs coated her arms and legs, and each of her motions dislodged a shower of dirt and dust, clogging her nose and mouth and making her want to cry out.

  Then, mercifully, the surface beneath her hands and knees went smooth as the shaft opened onto another panel of drywall. She’d reached the next level down.

  “Shoot her!” one of the bodyguards shouted from above, but Smith countermanded the command.

  “No shooting,” he ordered, his words clipped and coldly furious. “Two of you watch the bottom floors. You — get in there and bring her out.” Ike risked a look up to where Smith was silhouetted against the light from the bathroom. She could see nothing of his shadowed features, but his eyes gleamed with pinprick hatred that was reflected in his voice when he said, “Once again I offer you everything and you spit in my face, Celeste. And once again you’ll have to pay the price for your rebellion.”

  Her fury overruled her good sense, and she shouted, “My name is Ike!” She heaved, pushing as hard as she could with her legs and arms, pressing her back against the rough boards harder and harder until her muscles shook with the effort.

  Then, mercifully, the drywall cracked, then broke, ripping through the wall covering. She shoved again, then kicked her way through one floor down, aware of Smith’s shouts and the thunder of booted feet.

  Then she was free. She spilled out in another bathroom, this one done in blue and yellow. Scrambling to her feet, she headed for the main room of a suite very much like the one upstairs, only without the eating nook. She yanked open the door and hit the hallway running.

  Her original plan had been to sneak into the computer room and try to contact Zach Cage. Now her only hope was to get outside on to the main road. The houses in the area had seemed few and far between, but if she could flag down a car and —

  “There she is!” a male voice shouted.

  Ike didn’t look back. She ran, flying down the hallway barefoot, then skidding down the stairs two at a time and —

  A heavy weight hit her from behind, driving her forward and down. She landed face-first with one of the bodyguards on top of her.

  “Got her!” The bodyguard dragged her up, holding fast as she writhed and bucked against him. “What do you want me to do with her?”

  “Hold her,” Smith said. “I’ll be right there.”

  The bodyguard spun her to face the leader of The Nine, who approached and held out a hand. One of the other bodyguards slapped a Glock into his palm.

  “It’s a pity we don’t have more time,” Smith said. “I think you would’ve come around to my way of thinking with a little encouragement. But I find myself in the position of having to cut my losses sooner than expected.” Before Ike could wonder what had changed, he lifted the Glock, racked the action and raised it to point the muzzle at her forehead. “Goodbye again, Celeste.”

  Helpless to escape, Ike braced herself for the roar of gunfire. Instead the front door exploded inward and a figure stood in the opening for a brief second, haloed by the daylight, seeming for a moment more avenging angel than man. Then he flung himself at Smith with a warrior’s roar, and Ike knew it wasn’t an angel or a ghost.

  It was William.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For a moment Ike thought she was seeing things, that her mind had conjured up William’s image in a final farewell. Then their eyes met and heat flared, hope flared, warming her and telling her it wasn’t a mirage at all.

  William was here. He was alive.

  And he’d come for her, just in time.

  Love blossomed through her, absolute and overwhelming, along with almost paralyzing relief. He’d survived the explosion. Thank you, God, she thought with utter clarity.

  William lunged across the entryway and flung himself at Smith, who swung around, took aim and fired. Then there was little more than a blur of men and fists as William dived in and fought, pummeling the other man with brutal punches. His eyes were wild and angry, and when two of the bodyguards moved in and pulled him off, he exploded, spinning into that fluid fighting style he used with such lethal grace. Two of the bodyguards went down immediately, gurgling, and two others dropped moments later.

  Smith struggled to his feet, grasping at his belly, and headed for Ike and the man who held her.

  “William!” Ike screamed.

  One moment he was across the room and the next minute he was there, dropping the man who held her and pulling her into a protective embrace as Smith scooped a fallen weapon from the floor and took aim.

  Smith fired at the same moment William sent a stiff-fingered jab into his throat.

  The bullet went wide and shattered a nearby wall sconce. Smith gurgled, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in an inglorious heap just inside the front door.

  For a few seconds there was a silence so absolute that Ike could hear her heart begin to beat once again, making her aware that it had stopped when she thought William might die.

  If that wasn’t love, if the huge, awful, terrifying relief she felt now wasn’t love…

  No, she thought on a burst of heat and excitement and giddy, silly happiness, that was most definitely love.

  Outside, she heard booted feet and sporadic gunfire, suggesting that William had brought backup and lots of it. But in the house itself there was only silence, only the two of them standing nestled close together, their hearts beating in sync.

  Ike looked up and found him looking down at her, eyes dark with an emotion she couldn’t quite interpret.

  “William?” she said, her voice tentative. Then, realizing that tentative was Eleanor’s fallback position, not hers, she squared her shoulders beneath the gauzy dress and said, “Okay, here’s the deal. You were right about me being a coward, but you were wrong about one thing. You were wrong when you said I was missing what was right in front of me. You’re in front of me.” Wh
ile the room took a long, lazy spin beneath her feet, she sucked in a breath and said, “I love you.”

  WILLIAM CLOSED HIS eyes on a sigh and let the words pour through him, healing the broken places. He let the feel of her body against his steady him, filling the hollow spot deep within.

  “I thought I was going to be too late,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, with the despair that had dogged him as he and his unexpected allies had raced to save her.

  “Your timing was just right,” she said, touching his face. “It was perfect.”

  He looked down at her, farther down that he was used to without the added height of her heels to equalize them. But though she was shorter than he, she had complete and utter power over him. “Say it again,” he demanded.

  He expected a sharp retort. Instead she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I love you.”

  Inside him, a great, tight knot unraveled and everything went still. He leaned into the kiss and slipped his arms around her waist, feeling the long, lean muscles of her back beneath the soft material of an unfamiliar dress. Part Eleanor, part Ike, she was all his.

  He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “That’s a relief, because I love you right back.”

  Her smile was pure joy, her kiss hot, sweet magic that swept him up and left him reeling until another voice broke in, saying, “Ahem. You two mind if we drag Smith out now and Mirandize him?”

  William pulled away from Ike long enough to glare and say, “You’re interrupting, Grosskill.”

  That got Ike’s attention. She shifted position so her body was almost entirely in front of his and gave the sharp-faced man in the doorway an up and-down inspection.

  “Grosskill, huh?” Her tone made it clear she was less than impressed by the Bureau man, who had a large red patch on his jaw that would soon go purple with bruising.

  William had been grateful for the agents who’d gotten him and Max out of the way just before the car went up in flames and he’d been grateful for their help in subduing the men outside the Markham Institute and rushing Max and Kupfer to a nearby hospital.

  He’d been far less happy to learn of Grosskill’s covert op, another one of his “left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing” plans that could’ve gotten everyone killed.

  Ike looked up at William. “What’s he doing here?” She indicated Grosskill with a jerk of her head.

  Fairness compelled William to say, “He got Max and me out of the car just before it went up.” He paused. “It turns out I did see him in the hall that day. The order to lay off The Nine came from very high up, but Michael here didn’t like the smell of it, so he cleared the fourth floor and set up surveillance while pretending to the bureau that he was working on something else. Guess he’s grown into some instincts in his old age.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Grosskill scowled, but the sarcasm lacked its full edge. When William gestured for him to go on, the FBI agent said, “It took us some time to figure out who you were, Miss Rombout. That was a hell of a cover.”

  “Thanks. Think I’m FBI material?”

  William tightened his fingers on her shoulders and aimed a don’t-even-think-about-it glare at Grosskill, who sidestepped her question and continued, “We’d begun to suspect Smith and knew he was nearby, but we never expected him to move so fast, or take a hostage. That isn’t his usual MO.”

  “I reminded him of someone named Celeste,” she said. “He must’ve noticed the resemblance when I was working for Max on the Thriller case, when The Nine targeted Raine’s drug. He…” She trailed off, then swallowed hard before continuing. “He killed Zed himself. I saw him. He was one of the skiers. If I’d just known then…”

  William drew her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding her loosely so she wouldn’t feel trapped. “What’s done is done. We’ve got him now, and he won’t be hurting anyone ever again. I’ll see to that.”

  “We all will,” Grosskill said, and a light of anger kindled in his eyes. “I’m going to kick this to the top and see what happens. Ten gets you a hundred someone big is going to fall out of the government tree.”

  “Let us know what we can do to help,” William offered. “If it’s in electronic form, Ike here can find it for you.”

  “I’d take you both in a heartbeat,” the FBI director said.

  “Really?” Ike cocked her head. “What sort of benefits are we talking about?” When William growled, she laid her hands over his and squeezed, encouraging him to tighten his arms around her. “Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. I think I’ve finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.”

  “Mine?” William asked, only half joking.

  “Absolutely.” She slanted him a look. “I have a feeling Vasek & Caine investigations is about to get very popular. You thinking of hiring a receptionist anytime soon?”

  “No,” he said as everything clicked into place inside his heart. “But I think Max might be amenable to taking on a third partner.”

  Her smile started as pure joy, then morphed to worry, and she said in a small voice, “Then Max is…”

  “He and Kupfer are both alive.” He glanced over at Grosskill. “Any updates?”

  “Both critical but stable,” the FBI director confirmed with a small smile. “Come on, I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.” His eyes flicked to William. “I know you well enough to guess that’s your first destination, and if half of what I’ve heard about Ms. Rombout is true, she’ll be racing you for the door.”

  William pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s my girl.”

  The simple truth of the words set up a warm glow in his heart.

  WHEN THEY REACHED Springfield Hospital, they learned that Max and Kupfer were both still in recovery from their various surgeries and it would be an hour or more before they could have visitors. Technically it was family only, but Grosskill had a quick conversation with the desk nurse and cleared it for Ike and William to get in.

  “He doesn’t seem like quite the monster you portrayed,” Ike murmured aside to William as they watched the FBI director sweet-talk the nurse while keeping a commandeered land line phone to his ear, getting a status report on booking Smith and his thugs and processing Firenzetti.

  “I think he’s matured into his position,” William said, looking at his former boss with thoughtful eyes. Then he glanced at her and lifted one shoulder. “Heck, maybe we’ve both grown up.”

  “I know the feeling.” Ike reached for his hand, but he seemed suddenly distant. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but it seemed like a stupid question, given that they were in a hospital, both waiting on word of a good friend.

  She had a feeling it was more than that and wasn’t surprised when he disengaged his hand from hers. “You okay waiting here? Raine should be arriving any minute, and I’ll be back by the time they let Max have visitors.”

  “I’m a big girl,” Ike said, words faintly clipped. “I don’t need a keeper.”

  Normally that sort of reply would’ve gotten a rise out of him. Now, though, he merely dropped a brief kiss on her lips. “See you in a bit, then.”

  He walked away, his shoulders tense beneath a light coat he’d borrowed from one of Grosskill’s men. The sight of the yellow FBI stenciled on the navy jacket sent a shimmer of worry through Ike’s midsection.

  He and Grosskill had made peace. What if he was regretting what he’d said about her becoming a partner? What if he wanted to go back into the Bureau and couldn’t think of a way to tell her?

  Don’t borrow trouble, Einstein, she reminded herself when the panic came, not because she was trapped but because she thought she felt him slipping away already. If you love something set it free, and all that rot.

  Or, more rationally, if you love something, fight for it tooth and nail, which was more her style.

  “He’s a good man,” Grosskill said unexpectedly from beside her.

  Ike hadn’t noticed his approach, but she hid the flinch and an
swered simply, “Yes.”

  She braced herself for an explanation of why William should return to the Bureau, how his country needed him, regardless of what she needed.

  Instead the FBI director leaned over the admissions desk, returned the borrowed handset and said, “Ms. Rombout is with us. Give her whatever she needs.” He straightened and nodded to her. “It’s been a pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

  He departed with those ominous words ringing in the sterile hospital air. Ike watched him go, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened and why.

  “Ma’am?” the nurse said, drawing her attention. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thanks,” she said automatically, then said, “Wait, yes, actually. I need to borrow a Web-linked computer and a phone.”

  Then she pressed a hand to her suddenly queasy stomach. She couldn’t fight for William until he returned and they were face-to-face, but there were two other things she could do in the interim, one of which she’d put off for far too long.

  IT TOOK WILLIAM THREE stores and an hour and a half to find exactly what he was looking for, and his nerves were nearly shot by the time he got back to the hospital. A couple of calls to the front desk had assured him that neither Max nor Kupfer had suffered any setbacks while he was gone. However, the same could not be said of him and Ike, he realized when he entered the waiting room and saw her sitting beside Raine.

  She’d gone somewhere for a change of clothing and had replaced the ruffled dress with trim slacks, a tailored shirt and high-heeled boots. They were all black, of course, but more feminine than severe, and she’d swept the long hair away from her face with a clip of some sort, leaving a few wisps to drift down and soften the effect.

  She’s lovely, he thought on a fist of emotion. Unfortunately she also looked thoroughly upset.

  Oh, hell. He’d given her too much time to think about their half-assed conversation, to consider what it would mean for them to make a go of it. A relationship, maybe even marriage. The ultimate emotional trap to a woman like her.