‘I set him up, Scarlett. I all but paid for his murder.’
‘Yes, you set your father up. But you were just trying to protect your family. You knew your mother and brother wouldn’t be safe until the debt was paid. So you thought of a way to get it paid. And you wanted to ensure that the plan would work, so you told the guy where he could find your father. You didn’t know the guy would kill your father if he found him. You didn’t tell him so that he could kill your father. You did it to save your family. Your father was the one who chose to get in touch with the mob in the first place. He deserved what he got.’
‘You’re bloodthirsty for a cop, you know,’ he said lightly.
His minimization pissed her off, so she pushed on his chest until he loosened his hold enough for her to straddle his hips and look him in the eye. The guilt she saw there made her madder.
‘I am not bloodthirsty. What I am is a cop who’s seen more death than I ever want to remember. I’ve seen too many assholes walk away scot-free. I’ve seen too many women dead because the system doesn’t work for them, because even though they followed the rules and reported their abusive SOB husbands and got restraining orders and begged for help, the law couldn’t help them until they could prove they were assaulted, and even then the bastards got out by morning and went home to beat them up again.’ She poked her finger into his chest. ‘You saved your mother’s life. Probably Stone’s and your own too.’ She poked him again. ‘You didn’t kill your father. You didn’t even put out a hit. You were eight years old and simply told the one person who’d listen what had happened to you.’ She drew a breath, her body trembling from the anger she was still holding in. ‘And if that one person happened to be a mob hit man, well, I consider that to be just a weird, ironically satisfying twist of fate.’
The guilt had disappeared from his eyes, replaced with the hungry look that drove her crazy. ‘If I told you that I think I love you, would it be too soon?’
Her heart clenched and twisted at his words, uttered in that smooth voice that made her even crazier. She took his face between her hands and touched her forehead to his. ‘Yes, but tell me anyway.’
His lips curved. ‘I think I love you, Scarlett Bishop. Or at least I’m well on my way.’
She had to remind herself to breathe. ‘Good, because I think I love you too. Even though you have a serious guilt addiction. We have to work on that.’
He kissed her softly, tugged her lower lip gently with his teeth. ‘Gonna repair me, Detective?’
She smiled at him as everything fell into place. I’m happy, she realized. And it feels so very nice. ‘No, because you’re not broken. Just a little banged up. Just like me.’
He swallowed hard, emotion glittering in his eyes. ‘I messed you up. Your pretty dress is all sweaty now.’ He ran his hands up her legs, under the hem of her dress and over her bare skin to close on her butt. ‘I can help you take it off.’
Disappointment swirled with frustration as she mentally calculated how much time had passed. ‘As tempting as that sounds, we have to take a rain check. We have somewhere you need to be. Uncle Trace called. He found Mila and Erica. And they will only talk to you.’
His eyes widened in stunned surprise. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because when I came down here, you were in no frame of mind to be what those women needed.’ She kissed him hard and fast. ‘Are you now?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
She pushed to her feet, almost whimpering when he removed his hands from her butt. Later, she promised herself. When this is over, we’ll have all the time we want. She stepped back, extended her hand and pulled him up. ‘To the shower with you. Hurry.’ She kissed his chest, right above his heart. ‘You’re all sweaty and you smell like a gym.’
He threaded his fingers through hers. ‘And you smell like me, so you need to shower too. I’ll wash your hair again, and put some conditioner in this time to get those tangles out.’
‘How am I supposed to resist an offer like that?’ she asked, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to scoop Zat into her arms, but Marcus beat her to it, cradling the dog much like he’d cradled little Malaya yesterday. And how am I supposed to resist you?
She couldn’t. But now that she’d learned his darkest secret, one that proved he was even more of the man she’d hoped for, she knew that she didn’t have to resist him at all.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Wednesday 5 August, 8.20 A.M.
Marcus ended his call and handed his phone to Scarlett to plug into the aging Audi’s old-fashioned cigarette lighter. He worried about the old car’s rattling engine, but knew better than to suggest Scarlett trade it in for a more reliable model. She fixed things. People too. And thank God for that. ‘No change on Phillip,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Tabby Anders is trying to wake up, according to Annabelle Church’s grandson, but she’s still not coherent.’ Scarlett had called Gabriel Benitez to tell him that they were en route to the missing Bautista women. ‘Mr Benitez said that he’s already called his immigration lawyer friend and they’re ready to meet with the family whenever we get them together in a safe place.’
‘I’ve got a place.’ Marcus had already reserved the penthouse suite at one of the centrally located hotels downtown. He hadn’t done it for the luxury, but for the security. Otherwise Isenberg would want to put the women in protective custody. After being held in slavery for three years, his gut told him the Bautistas would try to run if the police put them in any kind of custody, protective or not.
If they decided to go elsewhere, that would be their right, of course, but he was prepared in the event the Bautista women were willing to come back with them. Hopefully they’d have information about whoever had taken that bastard Anders from his home the day before. Because that person, whoever he was, could be the trafficker they were searching for. Trafficker and murderer and God only knew what else.
‘Everything else okay?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Your conversation with Stone sounded heated.’
‘We were arguing about our mother again. I want to push her to go to rehab, and—’
‘Stone doesn’t want her forced into anything,’ she finished sadly.
‘Exactly.’ He tried to smile. ‘I think he’s really pissed off that he’s back to babysitting Jill. We don’t know what to do about her. I’d ask Cal to take over when he comes in later, but he’s going to be busy doing his job and Phillip’s. And Lisette’s.’ He sighed. ‘And mine too, until this shooter’s dealt with.’
‘I take it that Cal runs the paper when you’re not there?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Cal runs the paper even when I am there. He’s forgotten more about newspapers than I’ll ever learn. He’s helped me in so many ways since my grandfather died, both with the day-to-day business of running the paper and in utilizing it to its fullest potential.’
‘Delivering justice,’ she said.
He winced. ‘Delivering justice along with newspapers? Pun not intended, huh.’
She smiled at him. ‘No, totally intended.’ She tipped her head, studying him, her smile disappearing. ‘Will you continue using the paper to its fullest potential when all of this is over?’
Yes was on the tip of his tongue, but he pulled it back to reconsider. ‘Will it bother you? Will you be able to look the other way, knowing we’re bending the rules?’
‘That wasn’t what I meant. I was thinking more about the risks. Last night you all agreed that what happened to Phillip was an acceptable risk. I’m wondering if you’ll think that in the light of day, especially if Phillip has any long-term physical issues . . . or dies.’
Again he opened his mouth to say yes, but again he paused to reconsider. ‘I don’t know about the others. I imagine they’ll still be gung-ho. And I’m still fully committed to what we’re doing. But I suppose I’m not making that decision for myself anymore. Yesterday morning I only had me to worry about. Now I have you. I don’t want you having to sit in a waiting room wondering if I’m going to wake up. So the risk will have to be evaluated by the situation.’