Chapter Eight

Cherie

It was official. I just got word from Darla that my debt to the hospital had been officially paid off. It took just half the time it was expected to, she pointed out, and reminded me just how valuable I was to the team. I knew she appreciated my hard work and willingness to work extra shifts, but I also knew they’d replace me within two weeks once I was gone.

And now I was free to leave Brently whenever I wanted. Free to leave Roddick too, which was the only thing that gave me pause. Not that I would change my plans and stay in town for him, but now that things were official, a dull ache began almost immediately in my chest. The man was imprinted all over my heart, my mind and my body. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop myself from wanting him. Worst of all, I couldn’t stop imagining a future with him away from Brently.

It was wishful thinking at its best, and I felt utterly disgusted with myself. Still feeling that way when I got home, I hoped a shower would at least wash some of it away, or maybe rinse away the hope swelling in my heart. But it didn’t. The one thing that did help was a letter from a hospital in Saskatchewan. They were in need of a well-rounded nurse and apparently that was me, thanks to the headhunting service I signed up with a while back. One month. They wanted me there in one month.

I smiled and wiped away the sad tears that had overcome me. It was official. I was leaving Brently. Of course, I needed to see the man who held my heart, maybe to share the good news and maybe to see if I could let him go once and for all.

Can I see you tonight? I texted him wearing a big, goofy grin. He called, and I picked up with an even bigger grin. “Hey.”

“I’m on my way home now. Meet me there.”

“Okay.” I disconnected the call and quickly dressed, taking time to fix my hair and makeup since I’d probably be spending the night. At that thought, I packed up a few essentials in a bag and then I was ready to go. I started my car and sat there wondering what would happen if I told Roddick I loved him. I wanted him to know I felt that deeply for him, but would it be fair to burden him with my feelings and then up and leave? Would he feel compelled to say it back or make me stay? No answers came so I put the car in gear and made my way to Roddick’s bungalow, smiling as I parked on the street.

I’d miss seeing this house regularly. There was something about it, about the neighborhood that always brought a smile to my face. These kids would have a childhood I never had. They could play on the street without worrying about gunshots or rival gangs. They would grow up and date without anything but the usual hardships of dating. I envied them, but I also felt happy for them. “What in the world?” I picked up the phone and dialed Roddick again.

“Can’t wait to see me, huh?”

I smiled but my attention was riveted on the overgrown shrubs shielding most of the back yard. “Do you have a redheaded girlfriend, wife, or sister I need to know about? Because she’s creeping around your house like a stalker. Or a burglar.”

The line was silent for so long I thought maybe he hung up on me. “Stay in the car, Cherie, I’ll be there as fast as I can.” The line went dead, and I stared at my phone for a long time.

I knew something was going on because something was always going on with CAOS, but now, worry settled in a ball deep in my gut. The woman clearly didn’t know Roddick well if she thought there would be an easy way inside his home. I stayed in the driver’s seat wondering what the hell was going on when I lost sight of the redhead.

A knock sounded on the window, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. But then I saw the woman tapped on my window with a black gun, a nine millimeter. “Come on out.”

“No thanks,” I told her, sliding my phone in the pocket of my dress and dialed Roddick again. “I’m good here.”

She grinned but it was more of a snarl. “It wasn’t a question, sweetheart. Get the fuck out of the car.”

“If you insist,” I told her. “What do you want, Ms.?”

“My name isn’t important and neither is yours. Just open the door, and we won’t have any problems.” Wide green eyes darted back and forth, but despite the crazed look in her eyes, she held herself like a cop.

Just what I needed, a fucking psycho with a gun. “I can’t open the door, lady, why do you think I was waiting in my car?”

She groaned and pushed me up the steps, tapping her foot impatiently in front of the door. “You’re way prettier than I thought a biker’s old lady would be.”

“Thanks,” I said with a bitter laugh, “but I’m not his old lady. Just a lay. Thanks for ruining my last night with him, by the way. I really appreciate that.” This woman was off her rocker, but I’d dealt with worse in the ER.

“Nope, try again, blondie. I know you’ve been seeing each other, staying the night and all. Now be cool and let me in and you won’t get hurt.” She pushed me until the doorknob pressed into my stomach. “I need you to make sure your boyfriend doesn’t do anything stupid.”

I laughed at that and she stepped back, gun still pointed at the ground. “If you think I have any sway over him, you’re dead ass wrong and you might as well give up now.”

“In that case, your night is about to get really bad.”

***

Roddick

“I’m going to kill that fucking bitch!” My heart pounded in my throat as I listened to Agent Molly fucking Johnson hold a gun on Cherie. I was happy I left my bike at the clubhouse because there was something satisfying as fuck about pressing the pedal to the metal.

“Slow down,” Brockton urged from the passenger seat. “You won’t be much good to your girl if you’re dead.” The man had stopped by Mick’s service station to pass me a message. Lazarus had been found dead two days ago, half of his body on the American side and half on the Mexican side. Brockton thought the task force had a mole or I did.

“I guess now we have our answer.” I cut a quick glance at Brockton who looked angry and worried, his gaze focused on the road ahead.

The streets of Brently were quiet, and after a few hairpin turns on quiet residential streets, I brought the car to a screeching halt at the corner. “I’ll go through the front since she’s expecting me. There’s a key buried at the bottom of the bird feeder back there.”

Brockton grinned. “Making sure your fortress is impenetrable?”

“What’s the matter, Captain America, afraid of a little bird seed?”

“Fuck off,” he laughed and jumped out. “Be careful.”

“Be more worried about your partner,” I told him and sped off, slamming on the brakes in my driveway. I took two beats before climbing from the car and up the steps. I couldn’t let this bitch get me too riled up, and I’d be damned if I let her hurt Cherie. Feeling as calm as I could, I stepped inside the house and found Molly in my recliner and Cherie sitting on the other side of the room facing her, eyes glued to the gun in Molly’s hand. “Cherie, you okay?” She nodded, and I turned to the woman I itched to kill. “Molly, to what do I owe the displeasure of this visit?” I gave her a charming, sickly sweet smile which she didn’t bother to return.

“You have some footage I need.”

I blinked as her words registered because I’d been expecting something else. Hell, anything else. “Footage?”

That sent the tiny witch into a rage. “Don’t fucking play dumb with me!” She waved the gun around carelessly, eyes wild, movements jerky. “Just give me everything you have, photos and video, of Lazarus and the Governor and I’ll walk out of here. You and your girlfriend—sorry, your ol’ lady—get to live.”

I barked out a laugh. “You can’t expect me to believe that shit, Pollyanna. You’re itching to pull that trigger,” I told her, taking a few casual steps to my left to shield Cherie from any bullets that might fly.

“I can still pull the trigger,” she said, still waving the gun. “Say that you pulled a gun on me and I had to drop you, then the blonde when she tried to avenge you. It’s all covered,” she smiled that famous tweaker smile that was half overexcited six-year-old and half crazed murderer.

“Sounds like a good plan. Except for one thing.”

“Except nothing, goddammit!”

I smiled and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Except Brockton already has the footage.”

“No!”

“’Fraid so. And there’s the matter of Lazarus’ fail safe in case of his death.” Her eyes went wide telling me that she had something to do with that. “He was a clever little fucker, and he knew one day that slimy politician would turn on him.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means while you’re over here trying to scare my woman half to death, your world has been blown the fuck up. Agent.”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!” She was losing it, pacing back and forth and waving that fucking gun like it was a battle flag. She stopped and glared at me, then Cherie and back at me with a gleam in her crazed eyes. “Then I guess I don’t need either of you.” She raised the gun, and I took that final step in front of Cherie, pulling my hands from my pocket.

“Maybe not. Just make sure you save a bullet for yourself because you’re going to want to kill yourself real soon. Cops don’t last long in prison.”

“Nah, that idiot Brockton is back at the office and this little shit can town is close enough to the border that I’ll be gone before he realizes what happened.” Her lips pursed and her brows dipped when she couldn’t see Cherie. “Move your ass, biker boy.”

“Can’t do that, Pollyanna. Your beef is with me.”

“But it’ll hurt you so much more if I shoot her first.” She grinned like the fucking psychopath she was.

“You should be worried about your own pain,” I told her, stiffening when I felt Cherie’s hand wrap around the gun tucked in the back of my pants.

“Come on out, blondie, or your boyfriend gets it.”

I felt the cool steel on my hand and grasped it, breathing a little easier until Cherie stepped in front of me, arms crossed, a look of defiance on her face. “There’s just one hitch in your plan,” she said, her voice soft and calm despite the pulse beating at the base of her neck.

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me, Nightingale?”

Cherie nodded. “I’m sure there are cartel members at your home, airports, train and bus stations, and sitting at the border waiting to tie up one final loose end. You.”

I was proud of my girl for staying cool during this shit, but she’d just pissed Molly off, and the gun was raised and aimed again. “You little whore!” Then she squeezed the trigger, and Cherie spun around before dropping to the floor at the same time two more bullets thundered in the room, and Molly fell where she stood.

Brockton entered through the kitchen and went straight to Molly, kicking her gun away. “She’ll live,” he said with disgust and dropped to his knees to be sure. I could hardly focus on his words or that bitch. I was too concerned with my woman.

“Cherie, baby. Are you okay?” I turned her, searching for any signs of blood, patting her body gently for wounds when she began to groan.

“That fucking hurt, and it was just a graze.” She turned her shoulder to show the gash in her skin where the bullet flew by. “Shit, not a graze!” She glanced over at Molly and quickly crawled to her on one arm, grabbing a throw blanket to staunch the bleeding at her neck.

I sat amazed by the woman I saw. This bitch had shot her yet, there she was, kneeling over her body in an effort to save her life. Her skin was pale though and her movements were jerky, a sure sign of shock, but she held the wound until two burly paramedics came in and took over. She rattled off the wounds she spotted and stepped back, blood covering her pretty little dress. “Did you wear that just for me?”

She looked down, finally seeing the blood covering her hands, her clothes. Then the tears came and absolutely fucking gutted me. I went to her and wrapped her in my arm. “Oh, honey, you did damn good. I’m proud of you.”

“We need to go. Now,” Brockton said and guided us to a standard issue government SUV, idling at the curb.

Cherie clutched my hand tight and I held her close, letting her cry the whole way to the task force headquarters.