Hard to Come By (17 page)

“I don’t,” he said.

Surprise rocked through her. She hadn’t expected him to validate her opinion, only to justify and turn things around to blame her. Like Jack had done. Slowly, she turned to look at him. Derek always seemed to wear his emotions on his expression and in his eyes, and right now both appeared absolutely gutted.

His smile was so sad. “That’s my greatest fear, that you won’t be able to forgive this. And I’d understand, because I know lying to you was unforgiveable. I wouldn’t blame you,” he said, kneading at his thigh and making her wonder despite herself if his leg was hurt, too. “But I hope you’ll at least give me the chance to explain.”

But Emilie wasn’t sure there was anything he could say to make all of this okay.

T
hings with Emilie were going about how Marz feared they would. Piss poor. Not that he blamed her in the least.

She’d been carjacked, used as a human shield, and had taken a life in self-defense. Right now, she was entitled to feel any way she wanted. But, damn, if that wasn’t a horrible backdrop against which to come clean to her.

All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her there for the rest of the day. Proof that she was alive and safe and there with him. Proof that he hadn’t lost her in that goddamned storage facility. But even though he’d rescued her and she sat right next to him, the heat of her thigh warming his¸ he was pretty sure he’d lost her anyway.

She looked at him, her eyes filled with distrust and
accusation, and he felt the physical distance she was keeping from him like a punch to the gut. And every bit of it was of his own making.

Another casualty of this whole catastrofuck of a situation that’d started over a year ago on a dirt road in another country.
Sonofabitch
.

Shane eased the truck to a stop at the chain-link gate to Hard Ink’s parking lot. He pressed a button on a remote control and the gate swung open, and then the truck crunched over the gravel and parked.

Emilie’s expression was ten kinds of skeptical as she took in her surroundings. Filled with abandoned industrial buildings, this neighborhood wasn’t much to look at.

“We’re here,” he said, ignoring the throbbing in his forehead. He opened the door and hopped out, and then offered her a hand down. She ignored it and used the armrest on the door instead. Derek swallowed back the hurt and shut the door.

Damn
. He’d been so close to something great with her that he felt the loss like a . . . well, almost like an amputation. Empty as his chest felt, he was pretty sure his heart had been ripped out. But it didn’t stop it from hurting like a motherfucker.

The whole group crossed the lot and made their way inside and up the stairs to the Rixeys’ apartment. The two women who they’d rescued from the cell looked as shell-shocked as Emilie.

The team was barely through the door when Becca came running to Nick and gave him a onceover. His shirt was a bloody mess. “Oh, God, what happened?” she asked. Nick gathered her in his arms and hugged her in tight against his uninjured side. Charlie stood right behind her, his face a mask of concern.

From the corner of Marz’s eyes, he saw Shane and Sara, and Easy and Jenna, repeat the same relieved reunion. And a hot, sour wave of jealousy flashed through Marz’s blood so hard and fast that he nearly doubled over. At the back of the group, Beckett was gesturing to the women they’d found to sit on one of the couches.

“Just grazed,” Nick said to Becca. “Take a look at Easy first, ’kay?”

Becca dashed a tear away from the corner of her eyes and nodded. “Come have a seat, Easy?” She guided him to one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar, where she’d laid out an array of medical supplies. Shane’s big first-aid kit sat on the floor beside her.

On the trip home, Easy had stripped off his black t-shirt and wrapped it around his biceps. Together, he and Becca unwound the ruined clothing and she went to work on him.

Marz turned to Emilie. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?” God, her face was so pale.

Emilie put her hand to her head. “I don’t feel so good.”

Marz cupped her cheek in his palm, and his heart lurched at getting to touch her again. And at the fact she didn’t pull away. But her skin was cold and clammy. “Come sit down,” he said, guiding her to one of the couches. She sat shakily, and Marz crouched in front of her. “You might be going into shock.”

“Can I help with anything?” Beckett asked from over Marz’s shoulder.

“Orange juice,” he said. “Thanks.”

With a nod, Beckett crossed the crowded room. Marz’s gaze caught sight of Shane patching up Nick’s neck before returning to Emilie. Too many close calls today. He braced his hand on the cushion next to her
and watched as Emilie looked from one person to the next around the room. “Hey,” he said, pulling her gaze back to him. “Try to slow your breathing and take nice, deep breaths.”

She blew out a shaky breath but did as he asked.

Beckett returned with the juice. With a thanks, Marz took the glass and put it in Emilie’s hand. “Drink some of this. Let’s try to get your blood pressure back up.” She took a long drink. “This is Beckett, by the way.”

“Uh, hi. And thank you,” she said.

“Welcome,” he said with a nod, and then his blue eyes turned to Marz. “So, uh, any thoughts on what we do with these women?”

Marz turned to see the two blonds huddled on the couch together, watching everyone and looking very wary. “Just find out who they are and what their story is.” Beckett looked like Marz had just told him to don a pink tutu and do a dance. Marz almost chuckled. “Never mind. Just sit with Emilie.” He turned to her and pretended he didn’t see the wariness on her face, too. “I’ll be right back.”

Crossing to the other couch, Marz debated what to say to put the women at ease. He sat on the coffee table in front of them. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Derek. You’re safe here. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

“Who are you?” the one with the long blond hair asked. “Why did you help us?”

“We’re just some guys who are trying to do the right thing,” he said. “No way we were leaving you there. What are your names? How did you get in there?”

“I’m Haven, and this is Cora. Our car broke down and we trusted the wrong people to help us,” she said, looking down at her lap and picking at a thread hanging off the hem of her jean shorts.

Cora’s bright green eyes flashed. “It wasn’t our fault, Haven. The guy had a freaking tow truck. It looked legit.”

Marz leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Of course it wasn’t your fault. Trust me, we’ve had a lot of interaction with the Church Gang and they’re bad news any way you define it. They prey on women and they sell them.” A gasp sounded out from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to find Emilie staring at him, clearly listening.
Good. She needed to hear these things, to realize what was at stake
. Marz turned back to the girls. “So it definitely wasn’t your fault, Haven. Okay?” The girl nodded, but it was the nod of someone being polite, not believing. “How long were you there?”

Haven shook her head. “It was hard to tell because there weren’t any windows. But judging by the meals they brought us, four days.”

“Jesus,” Marz said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you from Baltimore? Is there someone we can call for you?”

The girls looked at each other and Marz saw it the moment they decided not to answer that question. Or, at least, not to answer it honestly. “We were passing through,” Cora said with an expression that dared him to push. “And there’s no one.”

Sooo, clearly there was a story there. Interesting that they hadn’t asked to call the police, either.

“Do either of you want something to eat or drink? Can I get you anything?” Marz asked.

Hope flared in Haven’s blue eyes. “Would it, um, be possible to take a shower? I understand if not, it’s just—”

“We can definitely make that happen. Don’t worry.
And relax. You’re safe here. Promise. As soon as we get my friends patched up we’ll figure out how to best help you.”

“Thank you,” Haven whispered, her voice cracking. Cora took her by the hand and pulled her in for a hug.

Feeling like he was intruding, Marz looked across the room to where Sara and Charlie watched as Becca worked on Easy’s gunshot wound. Though he wasn’t making a sound, E’s expression was pinched with discomfort. Jenna stood at his side and held his other hand.

“I’ll be right back,” he said to the women. Was he imagining it or was Emilie’s gaze following him as he crossed to the island? Wishful thinking, no doubt. More of that punched-gut feeling rocked through him. He joined Shane and Nick as Shane finished bandaging the neck wound. “Okay, boss man?”

Nick arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the boss. But I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

Shane gave him a hard stare. “A scratch that would’ve been catastrophic if it’d hit an inch to the left.”

The thought impacted Marz like a bucket of ice over his head. They’d all lost enough, and Marz refused to lose any more of these men. They were his family of choice. His brothers in every way that mattered.

“Yeah, but it didn’t.” Nick clapped Shane on the shoulder. “Thanks for the repair job.”

Shane nodded and turned toward Becca and Easy. “You need a hand, Becca?”

“No,” she said without looking away from her work. “We’re doing good.”

As Shane nodded and cleaned up, Marz and Nick walked over to Easy. “Shit, E,” Marz said. The bullet had torn clean through his deltoid.

“Yeah,” he said, voice tight. “It’s all right.” Like hell it
was. And, really, this was the last thing the guy needed to deal with. Wasn’t he already feeling bad enough?

“Ain’t nothing about any of this all right, Easy,” Nick said, and then he looked at Becca. “How bad is it?”

“Honestly? It was messy, but he was lucky. If the bullet had hit the bone or lodged inside the arm, we would’ve had a much trickier situation,” she said, tugging off her bloody gloves and donning a clean pair. “Jenna, would you like to help?”

“Yes,” she said, eagerness plain in her tone and expression. “Of course.”

Becca grabbed a long roll of gauze. “Put on a pair of gloves and come apply pressure.” The women went to work.

Since those two were busy, that left Sara to ask about helping Haven and Cora. Marz pulled her aside and explained what was going on.

“I’d be happy to help them,” she said. “I’m just really glad you rescued them, too.”

Marz nodded. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” This time he didn’t have to wonder if Emilie was watching him, because her brown-eyed gaze bounced between him and the women, concern clear in her expression. A few minutes later, Sara grabbed some drinks for herself, Haven, and Cora, and guided them down the hall to the room she shared with Shane.

Scrubbing his hands over his face and pressing his fingers into his aching temples, Marz heaved a deep breath. Shit, he was tired. And, damn, if adrenaline letdowns weren’t a bitch.

Shaking it off, he crouched beside Emilie again, needing to check in with her even if he was the last person she might want to talk to. Her face was still too pale. “Feeling any better?”

A quick nod and she lifted her glass. “Yeah. This is helping. I feel like I’m decompressing.”

“I know what you mean. Just take your time. When you’re ready, we’ll talk.” His gut clenched at the thought of where that conversation might lead.

“Okay,” she said. “Are Nick and Easy all right?”

Marz glanced toward the island. “Yeah, they will be. Would you give me a second?” he asked. When Emilie nodded, he rose and crossed to Nick. “Hey, man,” he said.

“What’s up?” Nick asked in a voice that sounded as tired as Marz felt.

“You should go tell Jeremy what’s going on. He’s gonna wanna know. And he should hear about that”—Marz pointed at the bandage on Nick’s neck—“from you.”

Since Marz had spent a fair amount of time teaching Jeremy the ropes on running their comms and computer research, he was well aware that Jer often felt bad about not being able to help more. Jeremy wanted to be kept in the loop, and Marz didn’t blame him one bit. Nick was Jer’s older brother, and Jeremy had nearly lost him once when two bullets had cracked Nick’s pelvis and perforated his intestines in an ambush. Jeremy deserved to know the four-one-one.

“Roger that,” Nick said. “I’ll grab a clean shirt and do it now.” He disappeared down the back hallway. “Marz, why don’t you let me clean up your arm?” Shane asked.

Twisting his forearm this way and that, Marz examined himself.
Just scratches, except . .
. He twisted his arm again and something glinted in the overhead light.
Shit
. “Yeah, I think you’d better. I’ve either got some glass in there or I’m so awesome I sparkle.” He wasn’t
really feeling the humor, but he felt like they could all use it.

Shane gestured to the chair and rolled his eyes. “Ass. Chair. Now.”

“Dude. Why have you gone monosyllabic on me?” Marz asked, his gaze going from Shane to Emilie. She frowned as she watched them.

Nick returned wearing a gray button-up. Rolling his sleeves, he made for the door.

“Mind if I come?” Charlie asked. “I feel bad for not giving him a head’s up earlier, but he was with a client.”

“Not at all,” Nick said. They left together.

Shane sighed. “Sorry. It’s not you. I’m just fucking pissed off.” Shane’s sister had been nabbed off the street near their house at the age of eight, so Shane had always felt protective of and responsible for women in trouble. No doubt today’s discovery of the two women at Church’s storage facility was picking at that particular scab. Hard.

“You got ’em out,” Marz said as he took his seat.

A single nod. “I know,” he said. “Are you limping worse than normal or is it just me?”

Aw, hell
. He really didn’t want this attention. “Just you,” Marz said. They had two gunshot and three kidnapping victims to help. Last thing anyone needed to worry about was the fact that he’d twisted his right knee when the explosive blast had knocked him to the ground.

“Bullshit,” Beckett said from across the room.

Marz nailed Beckett with a stare. “
Ohhh
, so
now
you’re feeling talkative.” Emilie’s glass was empty, and she spun it in her hand. “Could you make yourself useful over there and please get Emilie some more to drink?”

She held up a hand. “I’m okay. I feel better.” She carried the glass into the kitchen and settled it in the sink, then turned and braced against the far side of the island.

Beckett came and joined her, his arms crossed over his chest. Both of them watching Shane pick glass out of Marz’s arm was about as comfortable as having an armful of glass in the first place. Marz actually hadn’t registered how much it stung until Shane started working.

Tweezers.
Plink
. Tweezers.
Plink
. Tweezers.
Plink
.