Chapter 15
Fifteen
In truth, Asher thought she’d left town.
He didn’t blame her. He’d spent most of the night interrogating Roger, who, yes, agreed to testify. No surprise there.
Then he’d gone into a briefing with Patterson. And when he’d emerged, he’d spent hours cataloging all the evidence he’d retrieved from his house. By the time he’d finished, the night had crashed down over him.
And Daphne was gone.
And okay, maybe he should have called her. But a part of him…
Well, it was one thing to save someone. Quite another to forgive them.
Still, he flinched a little when he showed up at the courthouse this morning, spotted Dani Kim and Michael Martinelli talking with Patterson over cups of coffee.
No Daphne.
He took a breath and headed over to the group. It was a good day. Roger had kept his plea deal, and Destiny and Draven would go down.
RICO case intact.
The Shadow Syndicate would fall. Justice would be served.
It was over. Done. Finished.
So why had he spent the night staring at the ceiling? Daphne, maybe.
But something sat in his gut. Niggled.
He approached the group, but Patterson walked out from them and held out his hand.
“Morrison. Great job.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Can we get you in for a quick briefing with prosecutors? They want to confirm some details about the undercover operation before they put Roger on the stand.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. They’re in the secure conference room. Won’t take long.” Patterson gestured toward the corridor leading to the underground holding area. “Roger’s down there waiting. We can brief on the way up.”
He glanced at Dani, who met his gaze. He frowned. He turned to Patterson. “Dani should probably be in on this. She was involved with the transport company—”
“Already talked to her. She’s coordinating with the marshals on courthouse security. Just needs to be you.” Patterson’s smile widened. “Come on. Sooner we do this, sooner we can watch justice happen.”
Right. Asher nodded and followed Patterson toward the corridor. They walked through the main hallway. Past deputies and attorneys. Through security doors leading to the underground holding area. Down concrete stairs into the tunnel connecting the detention center to the courthouse.
The tunnel was empty, the fluorescent lights humming. Their steps echoed against the concrete walls.
And then he spotted it. The cameras that should have been covering this corridor were dark.
He glanced at Patterson. “Boss—”
And then the far door opened.
And Daphne walked through.
She wore a dark suit, her beautiful hair pulled back, her weapon visible at her hip. She came through and stood by the door.
Glanced over at him.
For a second, something flickered across her face. Pain. Longing. Anger. Love? Maybe he didn’t know how to read her.
Her mouth parted. Then she gave him a nod and swallowed.
And if that didn’t just tell him everything…Yeah. It was over.
Roger came into the hallway, handcuffed but wearing a suit and looking spiffed up. Credible.
Patterson slowed. And a smile lifted on his mouth. “Good job, Miss Cross.”
And then he pulled his gun.
In the split second between the movement and clearing his holster, it all pinged inside Asher.
Daphne’s exchange with Destiny: This won’t end well for you.
Hardly. The FBI works for us.
Daphne thought Destiny meant him, but…he hadn’t given away his ranch location. Not to the syndicate.
He had, however, told Patterson.
You shouldn’t be surprised. You know I’ve been one step ahead of you for years. Long before Renegade. I know what you did in Denver. And I let you live anyway.
The only link between him and Denver was…Patterson.
Patterson had brought him here. Had assigned him to work with the syndicate.
Patterson was the mole. Had always been the mole.
And Asher was his fall guy.
And now he was going to tie up all the loose ends.
The blown cover at the retirement community. Patterson had known they were there. Had told Dmitri.
And had pointed Draven to the ranch.
And now—now Patterson needed Roger dead. Needed Asher dead. Needed Daphne dead. Anyone who could testify about the operation. Anyone who could expose that the FBI handler had been working for the syndicate.
And all of that clicked in the split second between when Patterson’s hand moved and Asher lunged at him.
The gun went off, deafening in the concrete space. Something punched him, low in the back, but he ignored it as they slammed into the concrete wall. Then Asher swept the man’s feet, and they went down. Asher landed on top of him, fighting for the weapon.
Behind him, he heard a scuffle—probably Roger taking his moment.
Patterson slammed his fist into Asher’s upper arm, and he felt the glued wound rip. Didn’t care.
He slammed his fist into Patterson’s face, his other hand on his wrist. Patterson roared, his nose broken.
Asher hit him again and slammed his hand onto the ground.
The gun came loose.
Daphne’s voice. “I got him, Ash. I got him!”
He grabbed Patterson around the neck. “You did this!”
“Asher!”
Daphne. Footsteps running across the concrete dust.
“Let him go. This isn’t you. You’re a hero, not a killer.”
Yeah, well, not really.
“Asher. Sweetheart. Honeycakes. Buttercup.”
He looked up at her.
Dani ran down the hallway, her gun pulled. Behind her, Michael, and then a couple other cops he didn’t know.
“Tootsie roll. Let him go. This is over.”
Daphne smiled.
And he unhanded the man, backing off as Dani stepped up. He held up his hands. “Patterson is working for the syndicate. He just tried to murder the witness.”
Dani looked down at Patterson, who was holding his nose, the blood spilling over his hands.
“He tried to—”
“Save it,” said a female voice.
Daphne turned around. “ASAC Kumar.”
Asher too stood. “ASAC Kumar.”
“We’ve been looking into all the leaks, as well as the evidence you brought in, and some of it doesn’t add up. This”—she pointed at Patterson—“makes sense.”
She looked at Asher. “Good job.” Then to Daphne, “We’ll take it from here.”
Daphne holstered her gun, and Liam Roberts from the US Marshals stepped in and grabbed Roger’s arm.
He was hiding behind the open door, probably where Daphne had shoved him for protection. Of course.
“Asher, you’re bleeding,” said Dani.
“Yeah, he’s always bleeding,” Daphne said.
“No, not his arm—in the back.”
That’s when he felt it—sharp and bright. Aw, shoot, now his legs started to buckle.
“Medic! We need a medic!” Dani, moving in to catch him, but Daphne was right there.
He slid down to the floor. “Oops.”
Dani had knelt next to him, was peeling back his shirt. “Looks like a ricochet. In and out.”
“See? Still standing.”
Dani stood up. “I’ll get the EMTs down here.” She followed ASAC Kumar and the others out of the hall.
And then it was just Daphne, kneeling on the floor next to him.
“You always have to be a hero, don’t you?”
His mouth opened.
And then she leaned in, kissed him.
And he managed to get a hand up, around the back of her neck, and he was right there, kissing her back. No pain. No lies.
Just kissing this amazing, beautiful, terrifying woman who tasted of sunshine and happy endings and the future he could barely believe might be his.
She leaned away, breathing hard, and met his eyes.
A beat.
“I’m sorry—”
“I forgive you—”
A slow smile slid up her face. “I love you.”
“I know, sugarplum.”
And then he really started to hurt. He winced, then leaned back. “Are you sure it’s just a flesh wound?”
“Help!” Daphne shouted.
Footsteps on the stairs, and two EMTs appeared, one familiar—right, Jackson.
“He’s been shot.” She stood up. “Again.”
“Technically, this was just the first—”
“Stop talking,” said Jackson, who knelt beside him, pulling on gloves. He bent down and examined the wound. Grabbed a gauze pad. “Could be he nicked a kidney.”
“Great. A kidney.” Daphne shook her head.
Asher closed his eyes and heard himself groan as Jackson applied pressure to the wound. And now his head swam.
“I think I should lie down,” he said, reaching for the floor before he crashed into it.
Hands caught him. Fingers at his carotid artery, then a blood pressure cuff on his arm.
“Don’t,” Daphne snapped. “Don’t you dare die on me. Don’t—”
“Not dying.” He tried to open his eyes, to smile. Failed. “Just—bleeding. A lot.”
“His pressure is dropping.”
“What?” Daphne. “Seriously!”
A needle in his vein, and fluid poured in.
“I need a backboard!” Jackson, probably on his radio.
Darkness pressed in around the edges.
“Asher, stay with us,” Jackson said.
Daphne’s voice. Close. “Listen, hotcakes. I just told you I loved you. So guess what—you don’t get to die—”
“Backboard coming through.”
Hands moved him onto a board. Strapped him in. Then out to the garage.
He opened his eyes when they loaded him into the ambulance. Daphne stood at the open door.
And then she climbed in.
“Sorry, ma’am—no—”
“I’m staying.”
“You can’t—”
“Oh yeah, I can. I’m…I’m his wife! I’m staying!”
Jackson looked at him then, raised a brow.
And Asher smiled. “Yeah, she is.”
And then she was right there, sitting beside him, holding his hand as they screamed out of the parking garage. “I’ve got you,” she said, her voice close to his ear. “And I’m not letting go.”
And Asher—floating on pain medication as the darkness took him and the world went quiet—believed her.
“It might be too cold for this kind of fun.”
Asher looked back at Daphne, bundled up in a wool hat, a parka, and hiking boots, and nodded. “Not much farther.”
“You’re the one two weeks out of surgery. I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well, we wait any longer, and the trail will be under snow.”
“Asher—”
“I’m fine, Daphne. The doctors cleared me for light activity.”
“Light activity is walking around the block. Not climbing mountains.”
“It’s a hill.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’d better not die on me.”
Asher stopped. Turned and reached for her and pulled her close.
Then he kissed her. Hand around her neck, almost a possessiveness in his touch. He let her go, met her eyes. “That feel like I’m near death?”
She laughed.
“Okay then.” He took her hand. “Come on,” he said. “Almost there.”