Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
~IVIE~
“ O h, my God.” I collapse against him and hold onto him. “Where are you bleeding? Who was that creep? What happened to him? Is Curt okay? I was worried sick, Shane. All the monitors went blank, and I didn’t know if you were the one who got shot. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t just stay down there by myself; I was going crazy.”
“You were supposed to stay put.”
I lean back to look up at him, relieved when there’s no fury in his gorgeous brown eyes. “But what if you were dying?”
“Then you still stay put. There’s nothing you can do if that’s the case.” He wipes a tear I didn’t even know was there from under my eye. He doesn’t look nearly as mad as I expected him to be. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“My bedroom. I need to clean up, and we need to talk about you following orders.”
I sigh, in both relief and defeat, but follow him down the hall to his bedroom and through to the bathroom. He strips out of his shirt, and I gasp at the hole in his arm.
“You were shot!”
“Yeah, it stings like a bitch. Just grazed me, but those hurt worse than the alternative, if you want to know the truth.”
I just stand and stare at him. “Shane.”
He glances up at me as he pulls supplies from a medicine cabinet.
“You were shot. ”
“It’s not the first time. Probably not the last. It’s not too bad.”
I shake my head and cross to him, pushing his hands aside as I begin to dress the wound. “Tell me everything.”
“In a second. I don’t want to fight about this anymore, Ivie. I’m not trying to control you or be a douche canoe, as you put it. I’m trying to keep you alive. And if you don’t follow my orders to the letter, you put yourself at risk.”
“I won’t apologize for needing to know if you’re dead or alive.” I look him in the eyes and lean in to kiss his cheek. “I was so scared.” My voice is a whisper. “I knew I’d be okay because you’re here. And even if that asshole had killed you, you’d probably find a way to be a ghost and kick his ass if he tried to put his hands on me. You’ll protect me no matter what, Shane. I needed to know if you were okay.”
“I’m okay.” He tips his forehead against mine. “I had a bad minute when he fought back. You said the screens went black?”
“Yeah, he must have shot the camera. They all went out. But not before I saw him struggle with you, take your gun, and then it went off. I was a mess of nerves.”
“I was afraid that would happen to the monitors. The fucker who wired them did it wrong. I’ll look at them.”
“Forget the monitors. How was he able to surprise you like that?”
“We were laughing at his last name. I didn’t expect him to fight back, honestly. And that’s my fault. I know better than to let my guard down for even a second. We recovered quickly, but the damage was done. It was a stupid mistake, and one I don’t plan to repeat.”
“Is Curt okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is the other guy dead?”
Shane’s eyes are calm. And cold. “Yes.”
I swallow hard and resume dressing his wound, keeping my fingers gentle. “Did you kill him?”
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I didn’t have to.”
“Curt killed him?”
“He self-terminated,” he replies. “I don’t know who he was. Curt’s running him right now. We found his vehicle on the road where he breached the property. Got a name and some info on him, but I’ve never heard of him before.”
“He was here for me.”
Shane’s hand tightens on mine. “He never admitted to that, but I’m pretty sure he was. He could have been sent in to assassinate me. We’ll know after Curt gets more info.”
“You?” I scowl at him. “Why would anyone want to kill you?”
There’s no humor in his laugh. “I’ve committed dozens, if not hundreds of sins in my lifetime, Ivie.”
“We all have.”
He cups my face gently. “Not like me. I belong to a very small club, honey.”
“So, you’re never safe.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I wish you’d tell me more. Help me understand you. I just want to know you, Shane.”
“You do know me. In all the ways that matter. Now, get this sewn up before I bleed out.”
“I don’t think you’re going to bleed out. You don’t even need stitches.” But I reach for the antiseptic and dab at the wound. “You took his gun away. How did he kill himself?”
“He had a blade. Cut his own throat.”
I still and stare down at him with my mouth agape. “Jesus.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What did you do with his body?”
He kisses the inside of my wrist. “It won’t be found. Well, animals might get him, but that’s it. The body, and the vehicle, are long gone.”
“So, I shouldn’t ask questions.”
“You can ask them. I don’t know how much I’ll tell you, though. The less you know, the better.”
I don’t necessarily agree with that, but I keep my opinion to myself and cover the injury. After I put the supplies away, I turn to walk out of the bathroom, but Shane snags my wrist and tugs me back into his arms.
“I’m sorry I was gruff with you,” he says against my hair. I melt against him, soaking in his warmth and strength. “I need to keep you safe. Not because you’re a job to me, Ivie. But because if anything were to ever happen to you, I don’t think I would survive it.”
My heart might explode from the admission. I glance up at him, but before I can say anything, Shane crushes his mouth to mine and lifts me, carrying me to the bed.
“The thought of you being hurt out there was pure torture,” I admit against his lips as he tugs my shirt out of my jeans. “I know I should have stayed. But I couldn’t see you. I heard the gunshot, and I didn’t know. Shane?—”
“I know.” He gently covers my mouth with his. “I know, baby.”
The room is hushed and dim with the blinds closed as, without a word, we undress and come together once more. Our touches are just a little more reverent. Our kisses linger, and each breath, each moment is more beautiful than the last.
We tumble over the linens, and when we join, I gasp and then moan as he begins to move, thrusting in just the right rhythm to make my body sing in pleasure.
His fingers lace with mine, and he pins my hands above my head.
“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters before nibbling on my lips. “You’re everything. ”
I tilt my hips, meeting every thrust, then tighten around him as the orgasm moves through me, taking me by surprise.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let go, baby.”
“Shane.”
His body clenches above mine, and his hands tighten on mine as he lets himself go.
And later, when we’re lying together in the waning light of the afternoon, he turns to me for more.
“Brutus Sugarbaker,” Curt says with a shrug. We’re all sitting in the 007 room, eating pizza and staring at the monitor. Brutus’s face fills the screen. It looks like a mugshot. “Forty-seven. From Atlanta.”
“What was he doing in the middle of Colorado?” Shane wants to know.
“Not hunting elk,” I murmur and take a bite of pepperoni. “He wasn’t dressed like a hunter. If he was trying to blend in as someone from here, a hunter, he didn’t do a good job of it.”
“Hardly,” Curt agrees. “However, I did a lot of digging, and I can’t trace him back to any syndicate. He doesn’t work for the government. He doesn’t seem to belong to anyone. He was born and raised in Georgia, not far from Atlanta.”
“Family?” I ask.
“A wife and three kids.” I frown, but Curt keeps talking. “On the surface. It’s a cover. I dug a little deeper. His name is Art Fink. How he came up with Sugarbaker, I don’t know.”
“ Designing Women , of course.” Both men turn and stare at me. “The TV show from the eighties. Come on, surely you’ve heard of it. I mean, I was hardly born in the eighties, but even I know about it. It’s a classic.”
“Nope,” Curt says, but I do get a half-smile out of him, and I consider that a win. “However, just because I uncovered his legal name, doesn’t mean I found much of anything else. No marriage on file. No kids. Also, like Brutus Sugarbaker, no ties to any organization. Just the vehicle registration, the one he had with him. No mortgage. No credit history.”
“How can he have no credit history?” I demand. “Surely, he can’t be a ghost. Is this another false name?”
“I found the birth certificate,” Curt replies.
“Did you find what he does for a living?” Shane asks.
“No.”
Shane blows out a breath. “So, we still don’t know who, exactly, he was trying to find. He could have been here for Ivie or me.”
“Or me, really,” Curt says philosophically. “God knows I’ve pissed people off over the years.”
“No way,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re too sweet and quiet.”
“Keep flirting with Curt, and I’ll break his legs,” Shane snarls.
Now Curt does smile, showing off straight, white teeth. “Fooled you, have I?”
“No.” I shake my head and reach for another slice of the delicious pizza. “I know shitty people when I see them. Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share, especially when I was younger. I’ve seen the worst of the worst. The scariest. You’re not that, Curt.”
“Hmm,” is all he says in reply. “Well, whoever this Fink asshole was, he won’t be bothering us again. What I want to know is, who sent him, and who was he supposed to report back to?”
“The million-dollar question,” Shane agrees. “He worked for someone, and they’ll be looking for him. Did you find anything on his phone?”
“Nope. He had no email loaded on it, no text messages. It was wiped clean. No calls, in or out.”
“On the phone ,” I say, thinking it over.
“That’s right.”
“But not on the number itself. Gimme.” I motion for Curt to hand over the cell, which he does. I open it and frown when I see it’s locked.
“I have the—” Curt begins, but I cut him off with a sharp shake of my head and tap the screen.
“These are easy to break open,” I say and smile when the screen opens. “Ah, you’re right. It looks like it’s straight from the factory. No apps, no messages. No call log. However, I can get the number off of it and do a little hacking on the computer.”
I find the phone number and sit at the computer. I crack my knuckles, shift my head back and forth, and then get down to business. My fingers fly across the keyboard as I search the number, find the carrier, and hack into their system.
“Jesus,” Curt mutters in surprise. “You’re in their server.”
“Yeah, we’re going to find out who this jerk talked to. This is a burner phone, but I can still find out what calls came in and out, and we can search those numbers, trace them back to their owners. He wasn’t speaking to everyone on burner phones. That’s impossible. And it’s a mistake that’s going to help us.”
I type furiously, excited at the idea of helping, of getting to the bottom of this.
“I know solving this won’t solve everything , but it’s a start. Okay, he called four people. Write these numbers down.”
Shane pulls out a notepad and pen and scribbles furiously.
“How am I supposed to read this?” I demand when I glance down. “Are you sure you’re not a doctor with that chicken scratch?”
“Who owns the numbers?” he asks.
“Okay, this first one is owned by an Oliver Freemont. Lives in New York.”
“Got it,” Shane says, still scribbling. “No idea who that is. The next?”
“Give me a second.” This one doesn’t want to give so easily. “It could be another burner phone. It’s under some layers, which is unusual. I’ve got it. Billy Sergi.”
“What?” Shane demands. “Look again.”
“It’s registered to a Billy Sergi.”
“Motherfucker son of a bitch.”
“Who’s Billy Sergi?” I ask in confusion, but Shane shakes his head.
“Who else, Ivie?” he asks.
I move on to the third number. “This one is a burner phone. No specific owner. Working on the fourth now.”
I keep typing. When I sit back, I stare at the monitor in disbelief.
“Well?” Shane demands.
“There’s no possible way, Shane. It has to be a mistake.”
“Who is it registered to?”
I turn my gaze up to his and shake my head. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.
Rather than ask me again, Shane leans over to look over my shoulder. When he sees the name on the screen, he swears under his breath.
“That’s impossible.”
I stand and pace the room. “Well, I guess we know who he was here to find.”
“There’s a mistake,” Shane insists and starts typing on another screen. “This is a cover for someone else, to throw us for a loop.”
Well, if that’s what someone’s trying to do, it’s working. Because my head is spinning. I can’t breathe.
“Hey,” Curt says and taps Shane on the shoulder. “Your girl’s panicking.”
“How can this be?” I wonder aloud and continue pacing the room until I run into a brick wall of a chest. Shane’s arms close around me in comfort. “He’s dead.”
“It’s meant to fuck with you,” Shane assures me. “And you’re letting it.”
I pull back to stare up at him. “Wouldn’t you?”
“It would throw me, yes. But keep your wits about you, sweetheart. This isn’t real. It’s smoke and mirrors. And if the person I think is behind this is truly responsible, it fits his M.O. perfectly.”
“Who?”
“Sergi,” he says simply. “And if he’s responsible, I’m going to be fucking pissed off.”
I pull out of Shane’s arms and return to the computer.
“I’m going to keep digging because there has to be a mistake,” I say as my fingers start to fly over the keyboard once more. But no matter where I dig, no matter where I look, I keep getting the same result.
And I can’t accept that.
Because the owner that keeps popping up on the screen is my father, and he’s been dead for more than a decade.