Chapter 31 DeadDead-Dead?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DEAD OR DEAD-DEAD?
Devon
“Fuck,” Hugh hisses.
I flip on the lights.
His eyes flare.
Somehow the fluorescents put this life-changing scenario into perspective.
This isn’t a nightmare any longer. It’s fucking reality.
“Hugh. It’s been a while.”
He opens his mouth to say something but closes it. Even the surprise of seeing me doesn’t deter him from what he came to do. He pushes the bathroom door open so hard, it slams against the wall.
“No Roman Malloy. He’s gone.”
Hugh narrows his eyes. “He’s dead?”
I laugh. “You mean, like you’re dead or dead-dead? It seems the definition is nuanced when it comes to you.”
His gaze shifts around the room. And since we were both agents, I’d bet my life savings he’s looking for an escape.
Just like I did when he manufactured that explosion I barely made it out of alive. The same one I thought he died in.
“We’re on the third floor and the windows don’t open. If you want out, you’re going to have to bust through that window or take me down. I dare you to try either.”
His fingers flex like they’re itching to go for a concealed weapon. “How did you figure it out?”
“Do you mean the fact you’re not really dead?” I hike a brow and don’t move from my place blocking the door. “You’re not the only resourceful bloke in the room. Did you really think I’d be forced to hang up my career and simply roll over and accept it?”
He takes a step closer. “You have no fucking idea what I did for you. Yeah, your name was put out there, but the only reason you’re standing here alive is because of yours truly.”
“Is that so?”
“It fucking is. You were so fucking close to exposing Turner. He wanted you dead. I saved your ass by outing you to the world.”
“Fuck you and your lies.” I bite. “All you did was save yourself.”
A muscle in his cheek jumps in anger. “You don’t know shit.”
“That’s where you underestimated me. Someone was feeding Turner state secrets.
I knew it was happening, but I didn’t know who or how.
It was a gut feeling at the time. But if you think I’d stop investigating just because I don’t have a title after my name, then you never really knew me.
Let me give you the condensed version—I know every-fucking-thing. ”
He shakes his head to argue, but I don’t give him the chance.
“Terrorist organizations all over Europe and Asia had access to state secrets so they can stay one step ahead. Someone was feeding that information to them. I knew it, I just couldn’t connect the last link no matter how close I was.
It had been going on for years before it all blew up right before my eyes. ”
His jaw goes hard, but he doesn’t deny it.
I take a step away from the door and rub my fingertips together. Unlike him, I have no desire to go for a weapon.
I want to take him down with my own hands.
“Why did you do it?” I demand.
Hugh shakes his head. “I’m not a Donnelly.
I don’t have a perfect fucking family with generations who served their country at my back.
I’ve got a shit mum who’s been in and out of drug treatment my entire life.
As much as I wanted to turn my back on her, I couldn’t.
She got caught in a tight spot with her dealer.
I could cut her loose and she’d be killed, or I could pay for her safety.
I did the latter because I didn’t have it in me to hand her over to the wolves. I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice. You took the wrong one.”
I can’t restrain my rage any longer.
I charge him. The next thing I know, my hand is on his throat and his back is slammed to the wall.
“Turner fed terrorist organizations our intel ... state secrets that came straight from you, dammit. There’s nothing in the world that makes that okay.
Not one fucking thing, Hugh. Innocent people died all over the world.
Their blood is on your hands so you could pay off your mum’s dealer? ”
His face reddens as his hands grip my shirt to try to push me away, but my fingers grip tighter.
“It wasn’t supposed to get to that,” he croaks. “I never wanted any of that. It started off small. Then I was in so deep, I couldn’t get out.”
“You were a bloody agent for secret intelligence,” I growl.
“Turner had a noose around my neck. He would’ve killed me and my family. He said so.” His eyes bead out as he tries to fight me. “Let go.”
I shake my head and use my other hand to yank his shirt up. A subcompact gun sits holstered in his waistband. I take it and stuff it in the back of my pants before letting go and taking three steps back.
He doubles over, his hands to his knees, as he sputters and coughs.
I speak to Dean through the comm. “You got all that?”
Hugh’s gaze jumps to me in an instant. He drags his forearm over his mouth and yells, “What the fuck?”
I don’t take my eyes off Hugh as I talk. “Then that should be enough.”
Hugh realizes what’s happening. His adrenaline must kick in, because he charges me.
I’ve got five inches and thirty pounds on him, but he’s quick. His shoulder hits my gut before I can shift out of the way.
My back hits a tray on wheels, and we both go down with him on top.
“Fucker!” he yells and pulls back a fisted hand. I put my hand to his face and push, but his fist connects with my jaw.
I thread his leg with mine, plant a foot to the floor with the other, and roll.
He swings another arm at me, but this time I catch his forearm midair.
I pin it to the ground beside his head, but his other hand is still free.
“You’re going down for what you did, Bancroft.
I’ll make sure Turner isn’t far behind.”
The handle on the door jiggles before they start banging. Fuck, the tray fell and wedged the door shut.
“Donnelly, it’s me. Open up.”
Dean.
I try to flip him over to his stomach, but the years haven’t made him a slouch. Like me, he seems like he spends more time in the gym than he did when he was an agent.
“Fuck you, Donnelly,” Hugh pants as we struggle on the floor.
Dean finally opens the door just enough.
I put my hand to Hugh’s face again, this time pressing it into the hard linoleum. I feel his gun slip from my pants and clank on the floor next to us.
We freeze.
Dean pounds on the door trying to get it past the fallen tray and yells, “Help me get this fucking thing open.”
Hugh scrambles for his gun, but I reach for mine that’s still securely holstered.
I fall back to my knees and train it directly at his face. “Don’t move.”
Hugh freezes other than his lungs heaving for air. I climb to my feet and kick his gun across the room. It slides under the bed and bumps the opposite wall. Then I shove the fallen table out of the way far enough for Dean to push through.
His gun hangs casually in his hand as his stare shifts between me and Hugh. “What the fuck happened in here?”
My gun is still trained on the man I thought was my best friend. I was in his wedding, was there when his kids were born, and mourned him when I thought he died, thinking it was my fault.
I shake my head. “It needed to happen, but it’s over. As long as you got all that on record.”
Dean pulls a set of cuffs from his belt. “Roll to your stomach. Hands on back of your head.”
Hugh doesn’t move.
He stares at me like he can’t believe what happened. What I just did.
I put my boot to his side, not to kick, but firm enough to get my point across. “Do what he says. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”
Dean shakes his head and lifts his chin to me. “You’re bleeding.”
“Shit.” I look down and see blood dripping to my shirt and touch my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s nothing—just a split lip. I kicked his gun to the other side of the room.”
Dean cuffs Hugh, pats him down, and keeps talking to me. “Ask one of those nurses if you need a stitch or two. We’ll debrief after I read him his rights and coordinate with the FBI.”
“Fuck,” Hugh bites. “Can I make a call?”
Dean pulls him to his feet as officers file into the small room. “Ask the feds. The sooner I hand you off, the better.”
I get one last look at Hugh Bancroft before I leave. He’ll be extradited back to England eventually. The list of shit they’ll charge him with will be long, but that doesn’t mean anything to me.
Nothing will change the course he put me on when he became a double agent.
When I see him again, it’ll be when I testify against him in court.
Harlow
Pacing is not normally my thing, but it is today.
Devon called two hours ago to tell me it was over.
Hugh Bancroft is in jail. I doubt the small-town police department holding cell has ever seen the likes of a detainee who sells state secrets and double-crosses their country, but it is today.
This little spot of heaven on earth has seen more than its fair share of action since I rolled into town to not marry Albert Humphries, III.
It’s what set everything into motion. I can’t lie, I do feel bad about that for this sweet town. Especially everything I put Devon and his business through.
The electronic lock on the door turns, and I stop mid-pace. When Devon appears around the corner to toss his keys and wallet on the entry table, I gasp. “What happened to your face?”
He shrugs. “It’s no big deal. Didn’t even need stitches. The nurse said just leave the butterfly bandage on it until it falls off, but I’ll be ripping it off tomorrow. The fucking thing is driving me crazy already.”
I go to him and put my fingers to his jaw. “You’re getting a bruise too. Did Bancroft do this to you?”
Devon doesn’t answer. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and lifts.
I yelp, but he doesn’t let me go, so I wrap my legs around his waist to hold on. “What are you doing?”
He walks straight to the sofa and sits with me on his lap. This reminds me of our time on the plane, though Devon doesn’t look like he wants to ravish me. He looks like he wants to take a nap.
The back of his head hits the wall, and he closes his eyes, but he never lets go of my hips.
I give him a moment. He looks like he needs one ... or a couple hundred. I take a chance and slide my hands up his pecs and leave them there.
He sighs.
“Devon?” I whisper.
His hands slide around to my ass. “Hmm?”
“Did something bad happen that you didn’t tell me about other than your face?”
It looks like it takes every ounce of energy in his body to lift his head and open his eyes.
“Victor Turner is in custody in London. More arrests are happening within Fusion Logic as we speak. Things are moving fast, and the situation is evolving. But it’s done.
I didn’t think I’d ever see Turner pay for what I knew he was doing but couldn’t prove when I was MI6. To have it all come back to Hugh...”
I slide a hand up his neck and stroke his jaw with my thumb. His stubble is two days old. It’s sharp and scratchy on my skin, but there’s something about it that I love. It’s real and raw and heightens every emotion.
I lean in and press my lips to the corner of his mouth opposite his cut. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’m sure it brings everything back.”
He pulls me in tighter. My sex fits securely against his cock, and we’re chest to chest. The only thing I see are his troubled blue eyes.
“It does but it’s over. And when I say over, I mean really bloody over, baby.
Dean was able to question Roman Malloy. He wouldn’t talk until we explained that his boss and boss’s boss are now under arrest. If he wanted any chance at a lesser charge, he needed to spill.
As far as I can tell, he told all. He gave up the shooter who was in the mountains that day.
He gave every detail about how Albert Humphries contracted Turner to have you killed on your honeymoon. And Albert is in custody in Florida.”
My stomach churns. I press tighter into Devon and rest my head on his shoulder. I can’t get close enough, and I really don’t want to think about Albert.
He rubs my back, up and down, from my neck to my ass as he continues to talk. “All of this happened because you saw that email. It’s fucking insane.”
I close my eyes and try not to think about being anywhere but here in Devon’s arms. “It is.”
“Our paths crossed, baby. Not just once, but twice.”
I nod against his chest. “Yes. It’s fate.”
His arms contract around me.
“I’m sorry, Devon. I’m sorry your friend deceived you, and I’m sorry you’re here instead of darting around the world solving crime the way you wanted to. You don’t deserve to have had your dream ripped away.”
“That’s what I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. I’ve spent the last few years grieving a fake death and a career. But now that I’m here.” His hands drop to my ass and stay there. “I find it hard to be upset the way I used to be.”
I push on his chest far enough to look at him. He doesn’t look tortured. He looks content. “You’re not?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I would be. When I heard Hugh’s voice after all these years, I about came un-fucking-done. For years, I thought losing my career was nothing compared to losing my friend. But when I found out he was alive?”
“You lost your career for nothing. I get it,” I say.
“Maybe. But I’m right here, baby. This doesn’t feel like nothing. And that’s what I need to know from you. What does this feel like?”
I wet my lips before I admit, “It doesn’t feel like nothing. And it doesn’t feel contractual.”
He ignores the nasty cut on his lips and leans in to press his mouth to mine. “There are other, more binding contracts I wouldn’t mind thinking about in the future, but you’re right. This isn’t a distraction, and I’m not willing to stop exploring it. What about you?”
When I answer, it might be a little bit too enthusiastic, but I don’t care. “I want that.”
Every muscle in his body relaxes, and he pulls me to his chest.
I snuggle my face into his neck and keep talking. “I sent off my DNA sample today. I’m sorry to say, I’m not drama free yet.”
His chest shakes with silent laughter. “That’s one drama I can handle.”
I turn my head to press my lips to his skin. “At least that’s one of us.”
“Baby.” He continues to rub my back and kisses the crown of my head. “I’ll be right here for whatever you want and whatever you need.”