Dangerously Entwined

by Sidney Bristol

  The attack took Ethan by surprise. He staggered sideways under the weight of the wood.

  Liman lunged out of the bathroom and grabbed Ethan by his shirt before he could recover from the attack. She caught a glimpse of Liman’s face, the bulging veins and red hue of his skin wasn’t right. He picked Ethan up by his shirt with inhuman strength and throat then threw him sideways.

  Ethan landed half across a desk, scattering bins, pencils and other odds and ends.

  That was not a thing a normal person did.

  Liman hadn’t struck her as the beefed up kind of man.

  But if he’d taken those pills? The ones the men she and Grant had faced off against? Would those give him this kind of strength?

  Ethan rolled sideways, striking out at Liman’s legs. He took the blow, hardly reacting. Ethan kept moving, using the momentum of his escape to land a powerful blow to Liman’s jaw. He staggered back, Ethan following him, driving his fists into Liman’s face and chest.

  Melody winced and took a step back. Ethan had this. She had to think about herself. That was the smart thing to do. Nothing good would come from her getting involved in this clash of titans.

  Except, hadn’t they got into this situation because they’d left Ethan behind in the first place? Could she really do that to him again?

  Liman bashed Ethan upside the head with something, forcing Ethan back. Liman brought up his hand wrapped around a gun and fired, hitting Ethan directly in the chest.

  “No!” she screamed.

  Before she could think through what she was doing, she grabbed a stapler off the nearby desk and hurled it, hitting Liman upside the head.

  Those years of softball growing up sure did pay off.

  Only, the blow barely seemed to register to Liman. He turned his head, swinging his arm toward her.

  Melody gasped and training kicked in. She ducked and dove behind the desk at the same moment Ethan launched himself at Liman all over again.

  TUESDAY. FORGERY FRONT, Chicago, Illinois.

  Grant braced one hand on the dash. He gripped the door handle with his other hand.

  No one spoke.

  The atmosphere in the SUV was tense.

  Ghost had hit on something not twenty minutes after he’d changed his focus. One of his contacts had mentioned a friend, someone who did forgeries, having an odd client. Someone new and suspicious.

  It was a long shot.

  Chances were they were about to go make an unwilling new friend very unhappy.

  But they were at the point where they couldn’t afford to leave any stone unturned.

  “This is it,” Ghost announced from the back seat.

  Nolan pulled the SUV to the curb.

  Grant jumped out before the vehicle had come to a complete stop.

  The notary office was sandwiched between a payday loan and pawn shop. With the lights off it mostly blended into the other two businesses.

  He planted his hand on his weapon under his coat and pulled the front door open.

  The sound of a crash had every alarm in his head going off.

  Grant moved forward, gun up as he approached the doorway.

  The back office was in shambles. A desk and bookcase were in pieces. Stray books and office equipment was everywhere.

  Ethan pushed up off the ground, his attention on the other two people.

  Across the room facing them was Liman, his arm around Melody’s throat and a gun pressed to her head. Grant sucked in a breath as his gaze met Melody’s. Her eyes were wide, fearful, but she wasn’t panicking.

  Liman spat words. Ethan replied in kind. Neither looked at him or acknowledged his presence.

  Grant ignored them all and edged farther into the room until he stood almost shoulder to shoulder with Ethan.

  “Mel, you okay?” Grant asked.

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  “I should have killed you all when I had the chance,” Liman snarled at Grant.

  “You’re right,” Ethan said. In English no less. “You should have.”

  Liman focused on Grant. “You take care of this dog and I’ll make sure you get her back in one piece.”

  But would that piece be alive?

  Grant didn’t intend to take the deal, but they had to do something to end this stalemate.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked Liman.

  “You either trust me or I kill her in front of you.” He pressed the gun to Melody’s temple so hard she winced. “I know your secret. I know you’re fucking her.”

  Ethan shifted slightly, turning, so he faced them both.

  Melody’s eyes bored holes into Grant. He hated seeing her like this. Not being able to end this stand-off was killing him. What if she got hurt? Or worse?

  Her gaze slid from Grant to Ethan’s. She mouthed what looked like the word, One.

  What? Seriously?

  What were they planning?

  “Do we have a deal or not?” Liman demanded.

  Grant needed to drag this out, let whatever Melody and Ethan were trying to do happen.

  Two, she mouthed.

  “When and where would you deliver her?” Grant asked.

  Melody’s mouth didn’t move. She did. Her body dropped like a lead weight straight through Liman’s grasp. Her knees hit the floor and she covered her head. Grant squeezed the trigger, his aim landing the bullet straight in Liman’s chest.

  Ethan dove forward, going for Melody.

  “No,” Grant snarled.

  Too late, he realized he’d taken his eyes off the target. Liman was barely phased by the wound. Instead his arm lowered at the same moment Ethan’s body landed on top of Melody’s, taking the brunt of the shot.

  Grant fired again, then again and again.

  Finally Liman staggered back, the blood staining his white undershirt red.

  Ghost stepped up next to Grant and fired straight into Liman’s head.

  “Adrenaline and stims makes the body forget what pain is. If you want to stop someone hopped up on stims, aim for the head.” Ghost glanced at Grant. “Think zombie survival.”

  At that moment the back door sprang open. Nolan and Brenden were there, converging on the now lifeless form of Liman.

  Grant barely heard Ghost or the others. His attention was on Ethan and Melody.

  He moved forward, his aim still on Ethan as he pushed up and off Melody. The man clutched his chest where another bullet had torn through him and coughed.

  “Mel? You hurt?” Grant circled them, watching Ethan, but the man didn’t make a move to grab her or the chain attached to her arm.

  “I’m fine.” She straightened and looked at Ethan. “Oh, my God.”

  Ethan held up a hand, brushing off her attempt to reach for him.

  “He’s fine,” Ghost said from just behind Ethan.

  Grant reached down and wrapped an arm around Melody’s waist, hauling her to her feet and dragging her away from the man who’d almost killed her twice now.

  “I know you,” Ethan said squinting at Ghost.

  Ghost held out his hand. “I think we should get to know each other better.”

  Ethan stared at the offered arm for a moment before clasping Ghost’s wrist and letting himself be hauled to his feet.

  Grant turned, putting himself between the others and Melody. He looked down at her, taking in the scratches, a couple bumps and bruises. She looked exhausted, but she was alive.

  She was alive.

  19.

  Tuesday. Forgery Front, Chicago, Illinois.

  Melody wanted nothing more than to let Grant take over. He was good at that. It was kind of his thing. But she knew he wasn’t on Ethan’s side. No one was. They didn’t understand him. Not that she did either, but after spending a few days around him she had some insight to the man, he’d become.

  But first...

  She took Grant’s face in her hands and pulled him down for a quick, hard kiss.

  “I missed you,” she whispered.

  “You�
��re safe.” He squeezed her.

  She nodded then let go of him and turned her attention on Ethan.

  The man had taken two central mass bullets. He needed a damn doctor.

  She grabbed Grant’s hand. No matter what came next, she wanted him by her side. She marched across the small space to where Ethan leaned on the only still-standing desk. Nolan had his gun trained on Ethan while a man she didn’t recognize spoke to him.

  “Who are you?” She stepped between Ethan and the newcomer. “Why aren’t you getting him a doctor?”

  “Mel, what the hell?” Grant asked.

  The newcomer just stared at her. He had this unnerving, unwavering stare thing going on, but she wasn’t about to back down.

  “We’re even,” Ethan said in a hoarse voice.

  She glanced back at him. “We’d only be even if I got to shoot you. You’re lucky I don’t play that kind of game.”

  “I see you two got friendly,” the newcomer said.

  “Who the hell are you?” Melody had expended all her patience on Ethan. She had none left for this man.

  Grant nodded at the man. “Mel, this is Ghost.”

  “Ghost? As in...?”

  “As in the only person who can probably help your new friend here.” Ghost looked past her at Ethan. “You’re about to become the black market’s most wanted. You can either face that on your own, and good luck to the idiots who come after you. Or you can come with me. Know that I don’t trust you. You might have played well with Rambo Barbie here, but I can tell you’re barely human anymore.”

  In the distance sirens wailed.

  “What’ll it be?” Ghost asked.

  “Are you allowed to make this call? Shouldn’t Ethan be with his family?” She glanced back at Ethan. “You had a family once.”

  “If I did, I don’t remember them.” Ethan pressed his hand to the oozing wound on his chest. “I don’t want to be in a box again.”

  Ghost shrugged. “I can’t promise I won’t do that for your own good, but at least you’d get out regularly. You’d also get answers. Now or never. I’ve got other people to think about.”

  Melody didn’t know much about this Ghost person other than what she’d heard in rumors or from Vaughn and Brenden. There was something familiar about him. Something that made her think of Ethan.

  “Go,” Grant said. “Get out of here before the cops want to know why a dead man is still alive.”

  Melody held tight to his hand as Ethan headed for the back door following Ghost.

  It was over. This whole twisted drama was done. Everyone who’d attacked them was gone, leaving just her and Ethan.

  She turned and walked into Grant’s arms, breathing in the scent of old coffee and him. She’d known he’d come for her, that eventually he’d find her. And she’d been right.

  Grant was always in her corner.

  FRIDAY. MELODY’S APARTMENT, Seattle, Washington.

  Grant carried the small bag of things Melody had flown home with in one hand and the large box he’d picked up from the post office. She’d given him a funny look when he swung by there after leaving the airport, but hadn’t asked for details.

  Melody hadn’t said much of anything the last few days that wasn’t in direct response to questions about her kidnapping.

  The story they’d settled on for the police was that Liman ran a group of criminals who had a vendetta against their company and had attacked them. There was plenty of evidence and the explanation neatly tied up the situation for the Lebanese government, not that anyone had heard a peep out of them. Nowhere had anyone mentioned Ethan as part of the picture, and for all intents and purposes he was still dead.

  Grant reached the door to Melody’s apartment and turned to wait on her.

  They were both exhausted. The days spent at headquarters weren’t physically demanding, but mentally? They’d been run through the wringer so many times.

  Melody unlocked her apartment and pushed it open, gesturing for Grant to enter first.

  He stepped inside and paused, looking around, searching for any sign that her home had been tampered with.

  It was just as they’d left it.

  He stepped out of the way and nudged the door shut after her.

  “Hungry?” he asked finally breaking the silence.

  “I should be.” She turned in a slow circle. “It feels like I haven’t been here in a month.”

  “Some jobs seem to take that long.” He set the bag down next to the kitchen island then placed the box on the bar near the rest of her mail.

  They hadn’t had much time to talk in private. And by the end of the day Melody was so exhausted Grant would just tuck her in and head off to his own room. He wanted to stay with her, but those twin beds weren’t made for two people to sleep comfortably.

  He knew they were still on uncertain ground, that Melody wasn’t sold on the idea of them. He still needed to prove himself.

  “How about I order us dinner?” He pulled the drawer of takeout menus open.

  “Maybe in a bit?” She pulled one of the barstools out and sat. “I just want a moment to take a breath.”

  “Okay.”

  She eyed the package. “What’s in the box?”

  “It’s not important right now.”

  “What is it?” She leaned forward on her elbows.

  Grant wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or totally stupid, but he’d gone with his gut. He placed a hand on top of the box. The return label read Mom with little hearts around the word.

  Why the hell not now?

  Grant grabbed the pair of dull scissors used for opening and breaking down boxes, sliced the multiple layers of decorative tape with their sunshine faces. He folded the box flaps back and revealed what looked like a small wooden chest. Old rags were tucked around it to protect the hand-carved keepsake, or maybe more accurately protect other packages from the unbreakable object.

  Melody grabbed the box and slid it out from under the chest, clearing the way for him to set it on the counter.

  It was clear to Grant that Mom had given the chest a good cleaning before sending it off. She’d asked why, but he wasn’t ready to tell her yet.

  “What is it?” Melody tilted her head to the side.

  Grant just looked at her.

  A week ago he’d thought he’d known her, then he’d learned the hard way that they were still strangers. But in the important ways, he still knew her. When she’d gone to protect and fight for Ethan, he hadn’t been surprised. Okay, so he had, but after the fact it was less jarring.

  Melody was a good person who’d only wanted to do good her whole life. It told him a lot about her. And now, he wanted to share more of himself with her.

  “My dad’s a woodcarver.”

  Melody smiled. “You’ve shown me some of his pieces. They’re beautiful.”

  “When each of us kids were born he made us each a chest.” He placed his hand on the one in front of him. “They’re supposed to be little hope chests and Mom’s used them over the years to save stuff about our lives. Milestones.”

  Her eyes widened. “And this one’s yours?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to open it?”

  He placed his hand on the metal catch, still cool to the touch. “You said we were strangers, that we didn’t really know each other. It made me realize how much we didn’t talk about.”

  Melody reached for him, taking his other hand in hers and pulling him around the bar to stand in front of her stool.

  “I said a lot of things because I was hurt, Grant. I was living in my feelings.” She clasped his hand between both of hers. “I know who you are. You show me all the time.”

  Her brows rose and her mouth opened and shut. He read alarm there and he didn’t like it.

  “What?” He glanced around the apartment.

  Melody slid off the stool, gave his hands a squeeze then let go. She circled the bar into the kitchen, kneeled and reached into one of the lower cabinets. She pu
lled out a wicker basket with a canvas lining then smiled at him sheepishly.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  She set it on the counter in front of him.

  Top of the pile as the card from the flowers he’d sent her a few weeks back. Next to it was a fortune from a cookie they’d shared. He reached into the random assortment of stuff and pulled out a receipt for one of their fancy dinners. On the back was a note that read, You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do tonight.

  He’d said that. To her.

  “I was wrong, Grant. You were showing me all along that you do care, that you pay attention, that this is important to you. I just wasn’t listening because you weren’t telling me in the way I wanted to hear.” She lifted a hand and wiped at her eyes. “You didn’t want to push me or invade my privacy, so you held back. I wanted you talk to me, to ask me about my life, so when you didn’t I stopped speaking. We were both so scared of messing up we created the problem.”

  Grant nodded. That was exactly what he’d done.

  “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Grant. All I wanted was to know this was important to you. To feel like I mattered. And you were telling me. I just didn’t listen.” Her eyes searched his face, her brow wrinkled. “The reason it upset me as much as it did is because...I love you.”

  He couldn’t take this distance between them anymore. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. She clung to him, her face buried in his jacket. All the tension he’d been carrying around inside of him relaxed.

  Grant knew some of Melody’s concerns about them were well-founded. But he could be different. He felt like he was already making changes. And if she let him, he’d continue to work on those things, to be the man she deserved.

  Wait.

  He let go of her only to cup her face.

  The one lesson he’d taken to heart was that he had to say things. Ask them.

  “Mel? I love you, too. I’ve always loved you, I just didn’t know how to say it.”

  She chuckled and grasped his forearms, leaning into his touch. “But it’s easy. It’s just three little words. I. Love. You.”

  “Yeah. Those.” He rest his forehead against hers. “I’m going to be a better man, Mel.”