“I said freeze.” The angry voice commanded from so close he could have been on top of her. Halina’s fist connected with some muscled part of the gunman and she let it drop away, went still, breathing hard, searching for bearings.
Lights floated in the dark like giant fireflies. And voices closed in.
“Mitch!” She yelled for him, turned her head to search for his shadow.
Arms closed around her and she stiffened, then his scent, his feel hit her and she sagged into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding on tight.
“Are you okay?” She fought to breathe. “Are . . . are you hurt?”
“She doesn’t listen very well.” A thick flashlight beam shone on the ground at their feet, illuminating dark boots and pants. Her gaze jumped to the speaker’s face, but fell back to the white lettering across his chest: FBI. “What part of freeze or FBI didn’t you understand?”
“Lay off,” Mitch rasped alongside her head, holding her so tight she had a hard time drawing air. “She was in the middle of doing your fucking job for you, asshole.”
She glanced around and the terror-filled haze faded to reveal a gaggle of what appeared to be law enforcement, some cuffing the gunman, others forming a semicircle, gazing down at Abernathy.
A wave of dizziness hit Halina hard. Her stomach pushed toward her throat. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the muscle of Mitch’s chest. Breathed him in.
It helped.
“What’s happening?” she asked against his skin. “What is this?”
“She okay?” another male voice asked behind her, this one far more concerned. Much warmer.
“What do you think?” Mitch snapped. “What about a fucking phone call, dude? For someone who’s supposed to be an Army stud, you suck at communication.”
“Can you answer my question, Foster? Does she need medical attention or not?”
Halina tried to lift her head, but it was too heavy. She rolled her head against his shoulder instead and peered out from behind crazy strands of hair, blowing in an icy wind. A familiar, handsome face reflected in the light.
“Owen,” she breathed.
The concern etching his face eased and he smiled. “Beloi,” he said in greeting. “Not a great way to meet up again.”
She let out the first real breath of relief. Another person clad in FBI gear walked up. “For a little thing, she causes a lot of trouble.”
The female voice startled Halina and she lifted her head. The woman was about Halina’s age, dark hair, dark eyes and beautiful.
Owen laughed. “Look who’s talking. I seem to remember you causing your share of trouble, Seville.”
Halina didn’t need to be in her right mind to see the look that passed between the two. She felt the same way about the man still holding her tight, stroking her hair.
She gasped and moved her head too fast. It spun and she pressed her hand to her forehead. “Dex. Where’s Dex?”
“He’s in the guest house with the others,” the woman said. “One of the medics grew up on a farm and is a pre-vet student. He’s looking after him. Says he’ll be okay.”
“The others?” She turned toward the house. “Is everyone okay?”
“Fine,” Mitch said, kissing her head. “Everyone’s fine.”
Halina deflated once again, her body going soft against Mitch’s.
“Let’s head that direction,” the female agent, Seville, Owen had called her, said. “We’ve got a lot of questions.”
“So do we,” Mitch countered. “You’ve got your share of explaining to do.”
“Oh, that’s right.” The woman’s voice dripped with sarcasm and she sighed, then glanced at Owen. “He’s a lawyer.”
“And you’ll never forget it,” Owen muttered. “I need a minute with this lawyer. Can I bring him to you in a bit?”
“Of course.”
When Seville started off toward the house, Owen faced Mitch with one of those looks, the kind that doctors give the family of someone just out of surgery when there’s bad news.
Halina’s stomach burned. She tightened her arms around Mitch.
“She just said everyone’s fine,” Mitch said, his voice tight, serious, obviously reading Owen’s expression the way Halina had. “Is everyone okay or not?”
“Yeah, yeah, this is about something else.”
“Well you look damn uncomfortable,” Mitch said. “Just spit it out.”
Owen took one giant step back. “I . . . don’t want to be within hitting range when I say this.”
He unwound his arm from Halina’s shoulders. “Well, shit, that makes me want to punch you now and I don’t even know why.”
Halina kept her arms wound tight around Mitch’s waist and repeated words he’d said to her earlier. “You’re not going to fight him.”
Owen grinned, an ironic, self-deprecating grin, and huffed a dry laugh. “Hold that thought, Halina.” He refocused on Mitch. Cleared his throat. “I’m responsible for Teague Creek’s escape from prison. For orchestrating his partner’s involvement and Alyssa’s positioning for kidnap.”
Halina was only half following what was going on, but Mitch’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”
“At that time, you were making a lot of trouble for Classified over an appeal for one of the Lejeune plaintiffs. It was evidently causing a rift between Schaeffer and Classified and Classified threatened to stop doing business with Schaeffer because you seemed to be a constant problem.
“Now,” Owen held up his hands and took another slow, casual step back. “I didn’t know this at the time. I was given an entirely different story and didn’t know how this related to the bigger picture until much later.”
Mitch tried to advance on Owen. Halina held him back.
“In his infinite stupidity,” Owen continued, “Schaeffer decided that if your sister—your twin—was in danger, you would have to take time away from your work, which would ease the appeal situation with Classified.”
“What the fuck?”
Owen held up his hands. “Evidently, none of the events that followed were supposed to happen. But, well, you have to admit, you do have a way of starting natural disasters, Foster.”
Mitch swore and lunged. Halina had to get in front of him and put her body weight into pushing him back. “Mitch, Mitch, it’s over. We have Schaeffer.” He looked down at her with fury turning his eyes bright green. “Let’s leave the past behind. Move forward.”
“I have set up a situation that will give you a memorable payback, though,” Owen said. “My small attempt to apologize and mend fences, so to speak. I think you’ll be pleased. But I’ve got to go finalize those with Seville now . . .” Owen started walking backward . . . “and give you some, you know, breathing room. I owe you, Halina.”
As Owen walked away, Halina wrapped her arms around Mitch’s lean torso and held him as tight as her shaking muscles could manage. “It’s over, baby. Alyssa’s happy. Teague’s happy. They’ve got everything they’ve always wanted. And Owen probably saved all our lives tonight. I know he could have shot you twice and didn’t.”
“Good thing,” Mitch grumbled, finally relaxing enough to wrap his arms around her. “I’d have kicked his ass.”
Halina burst out laughing.
“That’s a great sound,” Mitch murmured, the stress leaving his voice. “Let’s get you inside before you turn into a popsicle.”
“The papers,” she said. “We need to get—”
“That’s what FBI agents are for, sweetheart,” he rubbed her arms and back. “They’re experts at collecting garbage. All kinds of garbage.”