Make Me, Sir
Page 59

He glanced at the door. Dammit, he wanted to see for himself she was all right.
He frowned at the memory of her in his room. Blood on a swollen lip, her cheek scraped and raw. Whispering to him, asking him to wake up. “Sorry…” Had she said she was sorry? For what?
“It should have been me.” His mouth tightened as her low husky voice sang through his memories. What the hell did that mean? His eyes narrowed. She’d kissed him…and said good-bye. Not See you later. Not I’ll visit tomorrow. “Good-bye.”
An ominous feeling took up residence in his gut. Spotting a phone, he reached over, stifled a groan when he jarred his shoulder, then dialed. Her number rang and rang before a recording stated it was no longer in service.
He scowled, trying to think despite the fogginess from the pain meds. Her phone… Ah, she’d probably received it for the decoy job. He stiffened. What about her apartment? Was she even in Tampa?
“Hey there, boy.” His grandfather stepped into the room and stopped for a thorough scrutiny. A smile creased his leathery face. “You look better today.”
“Thank you, sir.” Marcus smiled and held his hand out to shake.
His grandmother followed, bending to give him a gentle hug and kiss. Her eyes teared up. “We were so worried,” she said, smiling at him. “Your mama called.”
“I hope you told them not to come. Marissa needs them more.” On complete bed rest in the last month of her pregnancy and with two children under five, his sister needed all the help she could get.
“They agreed only if we both call them daily.”
“That’ll work.”
“Since when do attorneys involve themselves in shoot-outs, boy?” Ex-Judge Atherton pulled up a chair, obviously preparing to show he hadn’t lost a jot of his cross-examination skills since retirement.
“Complicated story.” How to explain his relationship with Gabrielle? “A woman I…know…was kidnapped, and a friend and I assisted in locating her.” Not a bad summary, he decided, then screwed it up by adding, “A bullet is a small price to pay to get her back.”
His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Really? Is she the woman we met last June? Celine?”
Marcus smothered a smile. When Celine had joined them for dinner one evening, his grandparents had been…polite. Their reaction to her had added weight to his decision to step back. He didn’t want a surface-sweet, manipulative woman; he wanted one who’d yell at him to his face, one who could keep him as fascinated as Gramps was with Nana.
In the lifestyle, his grandmother would be known as a brat. “No, Nana, you haven’t met her.”
“Are we likely to?” she asked bluntly.
He smiled at the thought of a meeting. Gabi had an effect on others like the spring sun on flowers, and it wasn’t because she was a pushover, but because she liked people. Despite her sassy mouth, she cared, and they could feel that. The little brat would probably give his domineering grandfather a rough time, and Gramps would love it. “I very much hope so, yes.”
“Was she the woman in here yesterday?” Nana asked.
“No one was in here with him,” Gramps said.
“Remember when we returned from the cafeteria? A young lady came out of Marcus’s room.” She paused. “The same one who sat in the waiting room the entire time we were there.”
His grandfather frowned, his bushy brows forming one line as he thought. “The one who kept the little teen from having hysterics?”
Nana nodded.
“Curvy. Fair with light red hair.” He snorted. “And a blue streak in it?”
“That’s her,” Marcus said, smiling.
“She looked like somebody beat the hell out of her.” His grandfather’s face hardened. “Did you get the bast—bad guy?”
“We did.”
“All right then.” Blue eyes the same color as Marcus’s zeroed in. “You going to get the girl too?”
“I am.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
In her car, Gabi sat in the parking lot of the FBI Tampa field office. This emotional stuff was going to have to end real soon, dammit. She studied her hands. Nice and steady. Her face in the mirror looked calm, despite the yellowing bruises on her cheek and jaw.
Her insides felt like a pile of scooped-up Jell-O. If Dickhead had told stories about her, well…she’d just have to deal with it. At least she didn’t work in Tampa.
To her surprise, no one gave her any trouble. On the contrary, the ones who recognized her thanked her and promised they weren’t giving up. No sidelong looks at all.
“Ms. Renard.”
Gabi stopped in the hallway and turned to see four women in business attire. The one in the lead grinned and held out her hand. “I’m Marjorie—one of the other decoys. I wanted to congratulate you on the job you did. Agent Kouros kept holding you up as a shining example of getting into the role, and you aren’t even an agent.”
“Uh. Thank you.”
“And you didn’t give up,” another younger woman said. “Even when your backup abandoned you.”
Gabi couldn’t help asking. “I never did hear what happened to Agent Rhodes.”
Marjorie snorted. “Agent no longer. Something else we have to thank you for.” She rolled her eyes. “He said you’d come on to him, blahda-blahda-blah. But, although he managed to side-step written complaints, everyone here knows what kind of an asshole he is. When he tried to lay the blame on you, every woman in the office lined up to set the facts straight. Between the complaints about him, the fact you had to defend yourself, and him leaving you without orders or calling in? He’s history.”
A tall brunette swept a courtly bow. “And the females in this division thank you.”
Well, there is a God. Gabi grinned. “Sounds like I owe you thanks, and you certainly brightened my day.”
As the women continued down the hall, Gabi opened the door to the office Galen had commandeered. Same dingy decor. He sat at the small table again, talking with Jessica.
“You’re here!” Jessica limped across the room to hug Gabi. “I wanted to visit you in the hospital, but Z wouldn’t let me leave the first day, and these guys”—she wrinkled her nose at Galen—“monopolized the next morning, and then you disappeared. Where’d you go? Mr. Never-Talk Galen won’t tell me.”
“I’ve been staying with my parents in Orlando.” Only one more day there and then home for good.
“Are they vacationing in Disney World?”
“No, they live there. My father is a lawyer for Thompson and Dunn International.” An important, dignified job. No scandals allowed. When Galen had called them from her hospital room, she’d heard their revulsion that she was involved in something sordid. It might wipe off on them, right? But Galen had pushed, and her parents had agreed to let her stay in their house.
She pressed her hand over the cold lump in her stomach. The visit had been…difficult. Somehow, maybe from having almost died, she’d realized down to the bone that they’d never love her. And the only way to obtain their respect would be to turn herself into a pale reflection of them.
I like myself. Surely if she said it often enough, the pain would diminish. And hey, she had friends who liked her, a grandmother who loved her, clients who needed her. A person could survive without her parents’ love. So get over it already.
When Gabi smiled, the worried expression on Jessica’s face eased.
“Please join us,” Galen said, patting a chair on his right.
Gabi settled herself in the chair. Carefully. Even several days after the kidnapping, her head still hurt, her body hurt.
“One last debriefing with both of you,” he said. “Give me any tidbit, interrupt each other, add in what else you might have heard.”
By the time they finished, Gabi felt depleted and the aching in her owies had increased an order of magnitude. Then again, she shouldn’t complain. She could be screaming under a whip. Raped. Have someone like Jang…
Her stomach twisted, and she started to spiral into a panic attack. Breathe. She closed her eyes, trying to get control. Think of something else. Marcus’s voice saying, “Easy, sugar. It’s over. You’re safe, sweetheart.” The way his gaze could take her elsewhere. Breathe.
Her chest loosened, and she opened her eyes.
Jessica had taken her hand.
Galen was frowning. “Let me get you some water.”
“Sorry.” The panic attacks and emotional crap would improve, she knew. Been there, done that.
After she’d passed out in the elevator by Marcus’s room, they’d admitted her to the hospital—just like ten years ago. Same old merry-go-round. Hospital stay, interviews by cops and FBI, dumped on her parents to finish recovering. Panic attacks. Eventually a return to normality.
As Galen handed her the water, Vance walked in. “Hey, Jessica.”
“Hi, Vance.”
“Gabrielle.” The big agent grinned and came over to gently shake her hand. “You look like hell.”
Gabi snorted, feeling better. “Thanks a lot.” She took a sip of water, pleased when it went down without difficulty.
“You seeing Marcus today?” Vance asked.