You’ll be bleeding and choking and I’ll just watch you die.
***
The lights from the ambulances lit up the scene. Two ambulances. Two victims. Both still fighting to live.
Charles was loaded in an ambulance first. Victor insisted on it. Carly could hear him yelling out orders. He even grabbed one of the EMTs and snarled that his agent had better “fucking be his priority”.
The EMTs were already working fast and furiously to save Charles. And Charles—he was moving. His legs and his arms moved, and Carly was so grateful that Curtis’s bullet hadn’t lodged in his spine. When she’d rushed in after Charles and heard the blast of gunfire, she’d been terrified.
And I just grabbed for Curtis. I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.
“He…did it,” Charles said, grunting. His gurney was being loaded into the back of the ambulance as Carly watched. She stood outside of her building, blood on her, with too many neighbors and curious bystanders glancing at her with shocked eyes.
She inched closer to the ambulance so that she could better hear Charles.
“Ethan…” Charles said. “Heard…confess…he killed Quincy and he…”
“He used the scalpel on Curtis?” Victor finished. “Yeah, don’t worry, buddy, I got that part.”
But Charles gave a hard shake of his head. “Saved…her.”
She saw Victor’s shoulders tense.
“C-Curtis…shot me…would have…killed…all…us…”
She knew that Curtis had wanted her dead. If he’d had his way, yes, Charles was right, Curtis would not have let any of them leave alive.
“Ethan…stopped him…”
Ethan had stopped him, all right. Another sight that Carly would never forget. He asked me to close my eyes.
She hadn’t. She’d been too afraid to look away. Afraid that in that instant—I’d lose Ethan.
“Listen,” Victor said, his voice sounding hoarse, “right now, all I want you to do is let the EMTs and the docs do their work, okay? Forget everyone else. Forget the case.”
Charles had been loaded securely into the ambulance.
The doors were slammed shut and a few seconds later, the siren screamed on.
Carly jerked at the sound.
“Just concentrate on surviving,” Victor said, his voice low, but Carly was so close she caught the words, even though she knew Charles hadn’t. He was already gone, rushing away in that ambulance toward the hospital.
She had to blink away the tears in her eyes. She was sick of the death and blood and—
More EMTs burst out of the building. This time, Curtis was on the gurney. Nausea rose within her as she saw him. He wasn’t moving, not like Charles had been. In fact, his body was stone still and his skin was ashen.
“I want a guard to stay with him every moment!” Victor bellowed. “That man is dangerous! No risks, none! He shot an FBI agent, and he is going to pay!”
Carly thought he was paying. He was dying. Maybe even already dead. He’d be joining his brother soon enough.
A few moments later, the second ambulance left the scene. Victor watched it for a moment, then he whirled to face her. “You knew,” he said.
Carly could only shake her head. She wasn’t sure what she knew anymore.
But Victor closed that small distance between them. He put his hands on her shoulders. “You knew Ethan wouldn’t leave you. And he killed for you…again, right? This is the second time?”
She wasn’t going to lie or hide, not anymore. She also wasn’t going to let Ethan take the blame for her. “I was the one who stabbed Quincy Atkins. Ethan has spent all these years covering my crime because he wanted to protect me.” Yes, he’d shoved the knife in even deeper, plunging it harder into Quincy’s chest, but she knew the truth…Quincy was already dying then. Ethan just sped up the process.
She heard the door to the brownstone open behind her. She looked back over her shoulder. Ethan stood there. Ethan—tall, dark, dangerous Ethan Barclay. His scars glinted under the sunlight. It was the first time she’d looked at him and really seen those scars.
It almost felt as if it were the first time she’d truly seen him at all.
Blood covered his shirt. His hands. Because he’d just sliced open a man’s throat with no hesitation.
“Why would he do that?” Victor asked. “Why protect you?”
She swallowed. “Quincy had friends. If they’d known I killed him, they would have come for me. Just like Curtis did…” A deranged psychopath, bent on vengeance.
“Why didn’t Ethan throw you to the wolves?”
He was handcuffed. The handcuffs appeared ridiculously fragile around his wrists, and as she stared at his wrists, she could see the blood there. Not blood that had come from Curtis, but Ethan’s blood. Because he’d been tied up and he’d fought frantically to get free.
Just as I had, years before.
Curtis had wanted Ethan to beg for her life. But the only time he’d begged, it had been…
When he asked me to close my eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Why didn’t he throw me to the wolves?”
One of the agents opened the back door of a police cruiser. Ethan was pushed into the back seat.
“I have a pretty good idea,” she murmured.
Chapter Nine
He wasn’t in interrogation this time. Instead, Ethan was waiting in a small cell, one located in the back of the police station. A federal agent had come to see him hours before, and Ethan had asked to make his phone call.
And with that one call, he’d reached out to his contact in D.C.
Now…now he waited.
The hours had slid past at a snail’s pace. He looked down at his hands. The blood was gone now, but he knew exactly what he’d done. He’d killed a man.
And if he had it to do all over, he’d just send the SOB to hell a lot faster. Before Curtis had managed to shoot Charles.
There was a window in his cell. A tiny one, lined with bars, near the ceiling. He knew when darkness came because the faint streak of light stopped shining through that window.
He wondered where Carly was. Still with FBI Agent Victor Monroe? Was the FBI agent offering her a new life, maybe some new identity in Witness Protection? All she’d have to do would be to testify…
Against me.
He hoped she took the deal. He could still see the terrible horror that had been on Carly’s face. She would never forget what he’d done. And he couldn’t regret the act. After all, Carly was alive now. The threat to her was gone.
Case fucking closed.
He heard the low groan of one of the doors opening down the hallway. Probably a guard, coming to bring him a late dinner.
When he’d made his phone call, he’d been asked if he was calling in his lawyer, Sophie Sarantos, from D.C.
He’d said yes but…
“Ethan Barclay, you sonofabitch…” The feminine voice seemed to echo around him.
A guard hadn’t brought him dinner. Instead, his visitor from D.C. had finally arrived, and from the looks of her, she was pissed.
At least she made good time getting here…
Detective Faith Chestang was wearing one of her usual, no-nonsense suits. A truly horrific suit. He’d figured out early, though, that she donned the suits to try and downplay her own attractiveness—like that would ever happen. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, and her coffee skin was clear and pretty much ageless—though during his research into Faith’s life, he’d discovered that she was actually thirty-five.
And she was also heavily involved with one of the most powerful men in D.C. A man who was at least twenty years her senior.
Another story, though. For another day.
“You’re just going to stare at me?” Faith demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Her badge was clipped to her side. “My cousin was on your detail, and he got shot! Shot! My favorite cousin!”
Right. She was definitely pissed. “Sorry?” Ethan offered.
/>
Her eyes turned to slits at that response.
“In my defense,” he added, “I did call you right away. I didn’t want you to wait on getting official notification and all that crap.” He eased toward the bars that separated them. “How is he?”
She huffed out a hard breath. “How do you think he is? Charles was shot. Twice. What kind of coward shoots an FBI agent in the back?”
“A dead one.”
Her long lashes lowered. “So you already know that Curtis Thatch didn’t make it to the hospital.”
He knew now. Before, he’d just suspected.
“One shot in the back, and one in the shoulder. Charles is right-handed,” Faith said, “so I’m betting he dropped his weapon as soon as he took that hit in the shoulder.”
Ethan nodded.
“I’m also guessing…” Another hard breath. “That Curtis Thatch didn’t plan to let Charles—or any of you—walk out of that room.”
“You’re the up-and-coming D.C. detective,” Ethan murmured. “Aren’t you the one who is always figuring out how the criminals think? If you believe that was his plan…”
“Don’t give me that crap. You don’t need to sugarcoat with me.”
“You’re a cop. That means I always have to sugarcoat.”
Her mouth tightened. “You know how I am, Ethan. No matter what happens, I try to be fair. Yeah, I might have spent some time trying to nail your ass to the wall, but I go by the book, always.”
One of the things he respected about her. Staring into her eyes, Ethan said, “There were two reasons why I called you in from D.C.”
Faith lifted a brow.
“First is family. Your family isn’t as shit-twisted as mine, so I knew you would want to be there for Charles. Favorite cousin and all that…”
“How the hell long did you know he was FBI?” Faith demanded.
Seriously? “I knew day one. And really, you should have realized that. I have sources, and I’m sure no idiot.” The fact that she thought he’d been in the dark so long was just insulting. “But I figured having an FBI agent as a guard could be a good thing. At least he wouldn’t go crazy and try to kill me.” Like my last bodyguard.
“Ethan…” A warning edge had entered her voice.
He ignored the warning. “You didn’t answer my question before. Is your cousin okay?”
“Yes.” For a moment, it almost seemed as if her eyes misted. “He’ll be playing bench for the Bureau during the next few weeks, but he’s going to make it. And I’m pretty sure I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”
“No, actually, you need to thank Carly Shay. She’s the one who stopped Curtis Thatch before he could fire again. And I want to be very clear, Curtis was going to fire again. He had that gun aimed, and he was just about to pull the trigger. My money says he was taking either a head or heart shot that time, but Carly stopped him. She tackled him. They both hit the floor, and Curtis lost that gun.” His lips curled. “And Charles lived to play an undercover operative again another day.”
She started tapping her foot. “You only listed one reason.”
He waited. The bars were between them and no guards were in sight.
“What was the second reason you called me?”
“Carly Shay.”
Her head tilted to the right as she studied him.
“You might just be the best cop I ever met.” And he wasn’t just trying to flatter her. “In terms of detectives I trust…hell, you are the one that comes to mind. You want me locked up because you think I’m a criminal.”
“Uh, you are.”
“But it’s not political with you. You’re not on the take. Never have been, and I don’t think you ever will be.”
She backed up a step. “You’ve had me investigated. That’s how you knew my cousin was FBI.”
His hands curled around the bars. “They aren’t going to let me out of here. Charles heard me confess to crimes—well, let’s just say my past will come to a most unsavory light. Even the strings I pulled before, they aren’t going to save me. I’ll go down, and when that happens, Carly will be alone.”
She blinked at him. “You just said you knew I wasn’t on the take—so why does it sound as if you’re trying to set me up for some kind of bribe or—”
He laughed, cutting her off. “No bribe. Not you.” His laughter died. They needed to be clear here. “I’m just talking about a payback. Carly was the one who saved Charles. Now I want you to help save her.” He fought to keep the emotion out of his voice. Emotion wouldn’t help any. “She can’t be charged with crimes. Go talk to her. Convince her to make any deal she needs. Then help to get her some place safe.”
Faith shook her head. “That’s all above my paygrade, and you know it. I’m not Witness Protection or—”
“I know who your lover is, Faith. I know you and Will Hawthorne have been involved for a very long time, and I get why you don’t go public. You don’t want anyone to ever say you slept your way to the top, and honestly, anyone dumb enough to say that deserves to have the shit kicked out of them.”
She swallowed.
“But Will Hawthorne has strings he can use.” Hawthorne was a freaking powerhouse financially and politically. “And for you, he’d use them. He’d help to get her a new start, and you know it. She doesn’t deserve to be hunted. She’s a good person. Always has been. She just had the bad luck to get tangled up with bad things—” He broke off, laughing roughly. “Me. I was her bad thing.” But he wouldn’t be, not any longer.
“I don’t understand you.”
He shrugged. “Most people don’t.”
“Why do I get the feeling that Carly Shay does?”
Once more, he saw Carly as she’d been—on the floor, blood on her—Curtis’s blood—and horror on her face. “Yes,” he said, voice hard and gruff. “I think she does.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Faith turned away. She’d taken two steps when she stopped and glanced back. “Tell me that you’ve called Sophie.”
“Worried about me?”
“You’ve called Sophie.”
“There are some things that even Sophie can’t fix.” An FBI agent had heard his confession. And Carly had looked at him as if he were the devil himself. “I’m done.”
She gave a low, long whistle, then headed out. The door groaned once more as she left.
He put his forehead on the bars and wondered how he’d gotten to this place. Had he always been destined for hell? Or had he just driven himself straight there without looking at other options?
Fuck it. Can’t change the past. Can’t change me. But Carly will be okay, and that is all that matters.
Carly.
***
Detective Faith Chestang pulled out her phone the minute she was outside of the PD. She had Sophie’s telephone number in her contact list—okay, so maybe she and Sophie met for coffee once a week—and she dialed the other woman, fast.
When Sophie answered, Faith said, “I think Ethan Barclay has gone insane.” Because unless she was wrong, it looked as if the guy wasn’t going to fight any of the charges that could be pending against him. “You might want to get your butt on the next plane or train and get to NY.”
Because Ethan was right about one thing—she was a good cop. And as a good cop, she wasn’t going to just stand by and watch him crash and burn.
He’d killed Curtis Thatch, yes, but he’d done that while saving her cousin. And as for Quincy Atkins…
Word on the street was that a video tape had been recovered from Thatch’s hotel room. A video that showed Quincy’s murder.
She wanted to see that tape. So how was she going to get her hands on it?
***
Ethan was lying on the cot in his cell when he heard the groan of that door a few hours later. Footsteps headed toward him. Heavy. Hard.
Not Faith, her step was ever so much lighter.
He kept his eyes closed. The cell’s lights had remained on as the day waned and night grew. An a
nnoyance, but one that hadn’t really bothered him. After all, sleep was the last thing he wanted.
In sleep, he feared the nightmares might come. Nightmares in which he didn’t save Carly.
Sonofabitch.
“Aren’t you going to say something, Agent Monroe?” Ethan finally murmured, still with his eyes shut. He could practically feel the other guy, standing just beyond his cell.
Then he heard another sound—the creak of a lock turning.
His eyelids flew up and he lurched to his feet. The cell door swung open.
“Yeah,” Victor said. “You’re free to go.”
“Bullshit.”
Victor just shrugged. “Your lawyer is finishing up the paperwork, and I’ll need you in for a full recap of events tomorrow—”
“I haven’t given any recap so far.” This wasn’t standard operating procedure. What the hell was happening? “I was just shoved in this hole and left here.” The PD had taken over at the brownstone. They’d taken him to the police station, not to the FBI office, and he’d been locked away. Forgotten?
“Yeah, you were shoved in here, all right. That would be thanks to my order.” Victor offered him a tiger’s smile. “You’re welcome.”
Ethan grunted. “And now I get a free pass?”
“Nothing in this world is free, you should know that. But a man I respect—Charles West—he swore that you had no choice but to kill Curtis Thatch. And after I saw the little video of Quincy Atkins’s murder…”
“So there really was a video?”
“You mean…another copy of the video, right? Because I believe you destroyed the original some time ago.”
Ethan didn’t reply.
Victor cleared his throat. “Any jury that sees that video won’t convict you, and you know it. So maybe I could tie you up with an obstruction charge and unlawful body disposal—if I could even find the body.”
No one would ever find that particular body.
“But then your lawyer—nice, lawyer, by the way—Sophie Sarantos is pretty much hell on wheels.” Admiration lightened his tone.
Sophie? He met Sophie?
“But then your lawyer…” Victor said again, clearing his throat, “would just call up my FBI agent buddy to the stand, and then Charles would talk and tell the jury about how you and Carly Shay saved his ass.” Victor exhaled on a long sigh. “And that’s how you get a hung jury. Or maybe you get jury nullification—who knows which option they’d choose? Either way, you wouldn’t go to prison and tax payers would be out a whole lot of money.”