by M. K. Gilher
"Praise the lord! Damn good to see you, bestie." Bryn grips my hand. "Don't you ever do something that stupid again." She lowers her face to mine and whispers, "At least not without me."
"What were you thinking?" Aunt Helen blurts out.
What was I thinking? I thought I could outsmart Viktor. I suppose I did.
I look to him standing at the window. Jacade senses my gaze and turns to me. His crystalline eyes dazzle me with their fiery, consuming love. Sometimes it's painful to look at him.
"No thought required." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "I'm in love with him. He needed me. I was the only one with a realistic chance of getting him out alive."
"Ivy, if I'd have known what you were about to do, I would've tackled you." Aunt Helen's worry lines surface. I hate those.
"Come on, Aunt Helen. No one stops Ivy from doing what she wants to do." Bryn laughs and tilts her head toward Jacade. "Especially if it's him."
Jacade walks to the end of my bed. "Now, ladies, don't get her all riled up."
"I think that statement should be directed to you," Bryn says.
His lips quirk up at the edges. "True."
"Get out of my way!" All eyes in the room turn to the doorway. Uncle Bernie struggles to push past Shane.
Good luck with that. Shane is a Mack Truck. Why won't Shane let him in?
Uncle Bernie wags a finger at Jacade. "You should've called me sooner."
Jacade plants his feet and pulls his shoulders back. "Sorry. Forgot. Weird how that happens."
Uncle Bernie stops struggling with Shane. "Tell your goon to let me in."
Jacade signals with his head for Shane to let Uncle Bernie through. Shane drops his arm. Uncle Bernie bumps Jacade as he stomps to the other side of my bed. Jacade doesn't react.
"Ivy, are you all right?"
"Yes, Uncle Bernie."
He places his palm on my forehead and scans my body. "You're feverish. What are they giving you?" He reads the bag of medication on my IV.
"Uncle Bernie, stop." I lay my hand over his. "It was just a gunshot, and Jude patched me up."
"Just a gunshot? You're so nonchalant about getting shot?"
"Well, it hurts, but I'm here and my family is alive and together. I'm not gonna complain."
Uncle Bernie looks up at Jacade. "We need to talk."
Jacade crosses his arms over his chest. "We do. Not here."
"Call me as soon as she's released."
Uncle Bernie bends to kiss me, and Jacade's shoulders stiffen. Hmm. What is up with them?
"Okay, everyone out," Jacade bellows and points to the door. "You can see she's fine. She needs to rest."
I kiss my family and friends goodbye and rest as instructed.
***
Ivy
The hideous stench of death abrades my nose. Jacade lies face-down and bloodied on the dirt floor of Viktor's dungeon. Rusted chains twist and wrench around his neck and arms. My boots crunch on the ground as I sprint to his side.
Jacade. Please, god, no!
"Wake up, Ivy. Open your eyes." I wake to Jacade's bright gaze shining at me like an azure sky through the hole in a dank oubliette.
He cups my cheek. "You awake?"
My hand grasps his wrist and encounters the coolness of his watch. "Thank god you're all right." I slide my fingers lower to feel the coarse hair on his warm arms.
"Yes. We're all safe. Just a dream," he says in his deep, confident baritone.
"But it wasn't a dream. You were battered and lifeless on the floor, chains wrapped around your neck. He hurt you." I trace my fingers over the purple and black bruises on his cheek.
"Shh. Don't think about it. I'm fine. We made it through."
He presses his lips to mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and inhale his scent.
He pulls away too soon, my lips waiting in place. With a sigh, I push myself to sitting. Ouch. The burn in my side reminds me why I'm in a hospital. I hide the grimace from my face.
"You need to eat." Jacade wheels a tray of tiny round containers with shiny foil lids over my lap.
I angle my head away from the offensive tray. "Ugh, no. I hate hospital food."
"Start with this. Then we'll get you something more palatable."
"What day is it?"
"Monday. Now, eat." He peels the lid back from a cup of mashed cranberries.
I glare at him with my nose scrunched. I'm not winning this one, so I accept the spoon he offers me. Mmm. Not as bad as I thought it would be. The cool, tart slushiness refreshes my dry mouth.
Shane knocks twice and pokes his head in the room. Jacade walks to him, and his face hardens as Shane speaks into his ear.
Jacade strides back to my side with his lips pressed into a tight line. He moves the tray out of the way. "The FBI is here to talk to you."
The FBI is here to talk to me? Crap! I shoot Jacade a worried look. Are we in trouble?
He reads my concern and lowers his face to my eye level. "Don't worry. Our case is solid. It was self-defense. Just tell the truth."
"But what about…" the not the Mafia organization?
"It's all good, Ivy. I'm secure."
He's secure? How? I hope so because the fricken FBI is here to talk to us.
Shane allows a tall, blond man wearing a polished silver suit to enter.
Hmm. He looks familiar.
No way. It's Ken Amboy, the office-supply salesman! The cutie patootie in the Burberry suit.
Jacade takes a protective stance on the far side of my bed and grabs my hand.
Ken approaches from the other side and offers me a business card. "Agent Hunter Drake," he says in his rich, resonant voice. I check out his card.
Special Agent Hunter Drake. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Midwest Division.
Hunter Drake? Now that's more like it. I knew he was too hot to have a name like Ken Amboy.
So he was undercover trying to sell me office supplies? Did he get any info from me? Nothing I can remember except Jacade telling him I drank mouthwash and masturbated on his desk! I'm sure Agent Drake didn't glean much intel from my ass in the air as Jacade caveman hauled me down the hallway.
"Ms. Summers, I'm aware you're recuperating, but I'm investigating Merrill Karson—known on the street as Viktor—and wanted to ask you some questions."
Viktor's real name was Merrill? I stifle a laugh.
As he's pulling a notepad, pen, and voice recorder from the pockets of his jacket, Jacade responds, "Our lawyers have already given you her statement."
The statement. Don't remind me. The foggy mosaic in my mind transformed into terrifying images as I recounted the story to Jacade's lawyers and Colonel Mahoney.
Ken—I mean Agent Drake—looks at Jacade and replies with the voice of a patient teacher. "I know. I've read it. I'd like to speak to her directly, if that's all right with you."
The muscles in Jacade's neck tighten, but he gives a reluctant tip of his head to Agent Drake.
"Ms. Summers, I'd like to know why you went to Mr. Karson's property Friday evening."
I bite my lower lip. "Well, Jacade was missing, and I thought he might be there."
"Yes," Drake responds with the same tolerant tone. "But why did you go alone? Why not call in the authorities?"
"I couldn't chance it. I knew Viktor wanted me to come for Jacade by myself."
"You put yourself in grave danger."
"I guess I did, Agent Drake, but it was worth it." I squeeze Jacade's hand.
"And the Beretta Pico was yours?"
"The report clearly states the Beretta is registered to me." Jacade responds with a sharp edge in his voice.
"I'm aware of that, Dr. Jordan. I'm asking her how the gun got to the scene considering you were not carrying it at the time you were taken captive."
A muscle twitches in Jacade's jaw. Oh boy, Agent Drake is rousing the panther.
"I- I- knew I would need a weapon if I wanted to get Jacade out alive. So I concealed it in my hair."
&nb
sp; "In your hair?" Agent Drake laughs. His eyebrows rise, and he looks back and forth between us. "Oh, you're serious." He shakes his head as he scribbles on his notepad.
"Dangerous and foolish, Ivy." Jacade glares at me.
"I had to do it, Jacade." Emotion wells in my stomach and moistens my eyes. "I couldn't lose you."
His face softens, and his dimple appears for the first time since he was kidnapped. God, it's good to see that adorable dent in his cheek again.
"And could you possibly shed some light as to how Viktor sustained an injury to his, uh, pardon me… genitals?"
Jacade's eyes get wide, and his dazzling smile vanishes. Thanks, Agent Dick—I mean Drake—for interrupting my reunion with Jacade's dimple.
"Well, umm." Shoot. Drake caught me. No way to keep the details from Jacade now. "Viktor got me alone in a bathroom and he sort of uh… forced himself on me from behind."
Jacade clenches my hand painfully tight. I tug against his hold. He looks down at our hands and relaxes his grip but doesn't let go.
"So, he raped you?" Agent Drake asks, his voice empathetic and cautious.
"No," I say, shaking my head. "His words were something like I'm gonna fuck you in both holes, and I won't be gentle." I swallow, my voice a mere whisper. "Once an orphan whore, always an orphan whore." I pull my hand out of Jacade's, cross my arms in my lap, and focus on the tube in my wrist. "So I sliced him with a razor from the countertop and locked him in the bathroom."
Jacade whirls and stalks away, hands on his hips. "Fuck!" His yell bounces off the walls and stings my ears. He pivots and walks back to me with molten lava boiling in his eyes.
Agent Drake ignores Jacade's outburst. "And do you know what motivated Mr. Karson to kidnap Dr. Jordan?"
"No, I don't. I think he was mentally ill."
Drake nods. "Can you tell me who shot Viktor with his own .38 Special?"
"I did," Jacade declares as he returns to his stance beside my bed, broadening his chest and planting his feet.
"Yeah, we found both of your prints on the revolver," agent Drake responds.
Jacade put his prints on the gun? He's covering for me?
Jesus, Jacade.
A loud buzz and wild beeps break the silence. Jacade looks from me to the alerting monitors. "Leave now, Drake."
"Not before I say my piece." Agent Drake dips his head to my eye level and pins me with his steel-blue gaze. "If I were lucky enough to have a woman as fine as you fall in love with me, you'd be damn sure she'd never have to put a gun in her hair and save me."
"Get the fuck out!" Jacade yells.
"Sure. If I may have a word in the hall, Dr. Jordan?"
Wow, Special Agent Hunter Drake is the paragon of imperturbability in the face of Jacade's untamed wrath.
Drake tips his chin to me. "You have my number, Ms. Summers."
Jacade growls and motions past Shane into the hall. Drake folds his notepad under his arm and strides out the door. Jacade huffs behind him. I flop my head on my pillow and take deep breaths.
Holy crap.
***
Jacade
Drake follows me a few yards down the hallway outside Ivy's room. I have to get rid of this asshole before I kill him.
He aims his finger at me. "You put your woman at risk."
He's such a smug bastard.
"Listen, fucktard, I've worked my whole life to keep her untouched. You're talking shit you know nothing about."
"Really. Well, we'll see. Hey, can you tell me anything about a missing Carlos "Sly" Abbas Jr., drug addict?" he asks.
"No."
Drake continues as if his life is not in imminent danger. "Didn't your mother, Carolyn Ellis, die from an OD?" He raises his eyebrows. "Do you do drugs too or just sell them?"
You're a trailer trash delinquent.
"Fuck off." I speak to him and Leo's cackling laugh at the same time.
"How about Ellis Suites? Any idea why the rooms are so expensive?"
Oh, this man has just dealt his last card. Jett is off-limits, fucker.
"I suggest you leave before your little bureaucracy acquires another homicide case, this one the death of a federal agent killed by strangulation in a hospital hallway."
"Uh huh."
He needs to run right about now, or I'll let this raving panther off his fucking leash to gnaw the flesh from his bones.
He finally gets the goddamn message and turns to walk down the hall.
Moron.
"I'll be in touch, Jordan."
Like fuck you will.
Shane and I make eye contact. I take a deep breath and say to him, "Get that fucking vehicle here ASAP. We're taking her home."
Chapter 3
Jacade
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Shane: Visitor
Christ. Not Drake again.
I leave Ivy chatting with Helen and open the door. Shane is staring down Gerry Boothby. He has some fucking nerve showing up here. What the fuck does he want? I tip my head to Shane and regard Boothby with an impassive face. If what Viktor said is true, and this asshole is Ivy's father, then Vera must have been gorgeous because Boothby is a basset hound.
"I'd like to meet Ivy," he says.
"She's recovering right now. Why?"
"I want to meet the woman commanding so much attention lately. I owe her an apology as I represent Viktor, and he gave her a lot of grief."
Bullshit. He's sniffing around, looking for ways to use her against me.
"We can arrange a meet after she's released."
"I'd like to speak to her now."
Fuck. He outranks me. I have to follow orders. I can't give him any reason to suspect I know he killed Vera.
Helen steps into the hallway and approaches to us. She glares at Boothby. "What's he doing here?"
"He wants to meet Ivy."
"No," Helen snaps.
But she can't command him. The boss's daughter holds no rank.
Boothby speaks close to my ear. "I've got three dead soldiers and the feds sniffing up my ass. If I want to talk to a key witness, you fucking let me in, Trip."
I hope Viktor's rotting in hell for putting Ivy on his radar like this. I have no choice but to let him in. "She knows nothing. Don't upset her."
He nods, and I precede him into the room. He stops next to her bed.
Step back, Boothby. Don't scare her. He towers over her with his fake authoritative air and smiles. I wrap my hands around the rail at the foot of her bed.
Ivy's eyes widen, but don't flash with recognition. I'd be shocked if she remembered him as the police commissioner from the night she got arrested. Eighteen years is a long time, and he's aged like shit on a stick.
"Ivy, this is Senator Gerry Boothby. He was Viktor's mentor and father figure. He wants to speak with you." I wave my hand from him to her.
"Hello, Senator," she says with a gracious, pure smile.
He doesn't deserve her smiles. He's a lying murderer. He holds his hand out to her.
No! Don't touch her, fuckbag.
She hesitates and looks at me. I clench my jaw and tilt my chin for her to go ahead. She shakes his hand. My fingernails dig into her bed rail.
My skin itches thinking about how the bastard manhandled her when she was an innocent eighteen-year-old girl. Sick fuck didn't even know he was molesting his own daughter.
"Hello, Ivy. Nice to meet you, although it's not under the best circumstances."
Helen scowls as she enters the room and stands between Gerry and me. C'mon, Helen. Poker face on. Don't let him get to you.
"It's true. Viktor was like a son to me. Of course, he was always close with Bernard too," Boothby says and looks at Helen.
Helen narrows her eyes back at him.
Interesting. Does Helen know Viktor hung out at the track with Bernard? I had no clue until a few days ago.
"I took him under my wing when he was twenty-one, and I've done my best to guide him, but he was always a rogue and a mystery to
me. I can't imagine what drove him to cause you so much trouble."
"Who knows what motivates people to commit horrific acts like he did?" Oh please, Ivy. You're not forgiving Viktor, are you?
"Well, I came to offer my apologies. I'm sorry you were injured. You're an innocent bystander in the crossfire between Viktor and Jacade."
Watch it, Boothby. Don't say shit to her. I release the bed rail and take a deliberate step toward him, my shoulders high.
"Although, in this business, if you play with the big boys, someone is bound to get hurt, and sometimes it's a beautiful woman who fell in love with the wrong man."
"Oh my god! You asshole! Fuck you!" Helen yells and charges at Gerry. She grabs a metal bedpan from beneath Ivy's bed and bangs it on his head.
Clank! Clank!
I move in front of Ivy and brace with my hands in front of me. Helen connects twice before Gerry puts his arms up to block her assault.
Shane pushes the door open with his shoulder and aims his drawn gun at the room. I hold up a hand to let him know there's no immediate danger.
Boothby grabs Helen's forearms and pulls her close. He whispers in her ear, and she freezes. Her shoulders crumble, and her spine curls like she's in pain. She drops the bedpan with a clang, and her face melts to the floor.
My god, what did he say to her?
Bernard steps in the doorway and stands behind Shane. He looks down at Boothby whispering to Helen as he holds her crumpled body.
Bernard doesn't move to Helen. Isn't he concerned to see Boothby clutching his wife on the floor? Bernard smiles an arrogant grin. "Are we telling secrets, Gerry? 'Cause I've got a few of yours I'm sure you'd love for me to share with the room."
What the fuck is going on here?
Boothby glares at Bernard and releases Helen. He keeps his eyes focused on Bernard as he exits the room.
Well, those three have a shit ton of history, and I only have a fragment of the story involving Vera. I need to do some digging to find out the rest.
I glance over my shoulder. Oh shit, Ivy's eyes are wide and frightened.
Fuck. How the hell do I explain this one to her?
***
Ivy