Thirty-Six
On the roof – ideal flat surface, crenellations to provide cover and on which to balance his M24’s bipod – Reese scanned the scene below. The hostage had been secured inside the building and armed security personnel had streamed out into the parking lot. The Dogs had killed or restrained the Saints.
Badger was dead – he could tell through his scope.
Unfortunately, Ghost was down too. But his son was applying pressure, and the wail of sirens was drawing closer.
Situation contained.
Slowly, he lowered his rifle. The sun was riding just above the tree line, brilliant gold; its brightness made his eyes water. The breeze touched his face, a gentle caress. It didn’t smell like Denver; it smelled green, and warm, alive in a way that made the fine hairs stand up on the back of his neck.
Badger was dead.
His face fight tight, suddenly…and it was a long moment before he realized he was smiling.
~*~
Ian mapped every inch of Alec’s face and throat with his fingertips, anxious, flickering movements, searching for wounds, for blood that wasn’t there. The frames of his glasses were a tad crooked, but there wasn’t so much as a scratch on his person. Barely a wrinkle in his shirt.
“I’m fine,” he kept saying, over and over, but Ian couldn’t stop touching him, a feverish compulsion, his vision slowly glazing over, hands moving of their own accord.
“Baby,” Alec said, voice cracking, and his hands latched onto the lapels of Ian’s jacket. “I’m fine.”
“Nothing about this is fine,” Ian snapped.
Alec recoiled visibly from the bite in his voice, shrinking down into his shirt collar. But he didn’t let go.
Ian wanted to cover his hands with his own, give in to the pressure building behind his eyes and crumple, bury his face in his whole and unharmed throat, breathe in the clean smell of him. Always clean, his Alec, untainted by the nightmares of his own life, sweet and innocent, so blessedly stupid when it came to the evils of the world.
Instead, he shoved away from him and marched toward the wide front windows of his building. Snapped his fingers to get his security team’s attention. “Outside, now.”
“Yes, sir.” They flooded out, weapons drawn, to assist the process the Dogs had begun.
“Marie,” he said, turning to his girl at the front desk. “I need a stack of security contracts, signed and dated six months ago; I want one for each of Teague’s men. How long will it take to add them to the payroll?”
She blinked, surprised, but recovered. “A few hours, maybe…”
“Get started. I want it all official before the police start asking questions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ian,” Alec started, reaching for him.
“I don’t have time right now, darling.” Cold. All-business. From the corner of his eye, he saw his boyfriend wilt, mouth downturned, gaze wounded. “We’ll talk about it later.”
He took the heart-stopping image of his boyfriend with a gun pressed to his temple – the sight that had curdled his stomach and stopped his heart – and filed it away neatly to be dealt with later. When he didn’t feel so much like screaming.
~*~
“Jesus Christ, Maggie,” Vince said with a deep sigh as he dropped down onto the step beside her.
“Sorry about the mess,” she deadpanned, and took a much-needed sip of her coffee. A paramedic had handed it to her, and damn it, she needed the caffeine at this point. Not like she’d be nursing in the next hour anyway. “Here to arrest me?”
They were sitting in the back parking lot where she’d shot the Saints, seated on the top of the loading dock steps. Harry and Roman had been taken inside for medical attention. Kristin had offered to walk Denise inside to the waiting room, and Maggie had accepted; there was no need for her mother to see her get slapped into cuffs.
Now, techs milled around, roping the area off, getting out cameras and collection bags. The bodies were draped with sheets and Maggie didn’t have any guilt over the fact that she didn’t feel one shred of guilt about taking two of their lives. If that made her a monster, oh well. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“No,” Vince said on a sigh. “This was self-defense.”
She snorted. “You really believe that?”
“I do. Should I not?” He glanced her way, brows raised. He looked older than he should have, worn out and jaded. But there was still belief there – a belief in her that she’d probably never deserved.
She swallowed. “No, it was self-defense.” Defense of her mother, her friends, her club. She didn’t wear a patch on her back, but this club was every bit her family, just as it was Ghost’s.
He nodded and looked away, toward the crime scene. “These guys wanted everybody to think the Dogs were responsible for this.”
“Did they shoot anyone?”
“Not inside, no. Shot some equipment, some walls. Turned over a bunch of shit. I think they just wanted to terrorize everybody on their way to you. Make the Dogs look bad.”
“Mission accomplished, I guess.”
“Maybe. But when I do my press briefing, I’m gonna say this wasn’t the Dogs, that they were imposters.”
“You’d to that?” she asked, surprised.
Vince wouldn’t look at her, shrugging uncomfortably. “I don’t like what the Dogs do. But…I get it, I think. They’re not the enemy. Not like these guys were. I know Ghost and his crew would never try to scare civilians like this.”
Maggie smiled. “Thanks, Vince.”
“Yeah, well…” He ducked his head. “Don’t thank me until you hear about Ghost.”
Her stomach lurched. “What about Ghost?”