Boston Avant-Garde 6: Chiaroscuro (26 page)

This isn’t me.

He thought of Mattie’s almost childlike innocence. He never would’ve wanted her to look at him as if he were some kind of monster, a killer who ended life for no purpose other than the whim of a crowd.

Abruptly Owen adjusted his hold. He flipped the knife in his hand, changing his grip before bashing the would-be Terminator in the temple and knocking him out. Leaping to his feet, Owen faced down the wrath of the crowd with defiant eyes.

MATTIE STIFLED A gasp from her place on the catwalk nearly thirty feet in the air above the action. Beside her, Lars grabbed her hand and held on tight. She clung to him, burying her face against his warm chest to shut out the sight below. Their Owen was shut in a cage like an animal on display for a sick crowd of sadistic assholes begging for his death because he’d shown mercy. Her heart was full to bursting with everything she felt for her man—for both of her men.

Lars stroked her hair and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. “I’ll get him out of there, Mattie. I promise.”

“Be careful,” she whispered. “If anything happened to either of you”—she thought of all the things that still needed to be said—“I can’t go back to living life without the two of you in it. Not now.”

He cupped her face in both hands and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Mattie. I always have. If anything happens… Well, I just wanted you to know without a doubt.”

Tears stung her eyes. So much pain and doubt for those three little words, and it was worth every moment to experience the sheer elation she felt right now. If Jason and his idiot plans screwed that up for them, so help her— Well, hell had no fury like a woman scorned.

Demon approached dressed all in black. With his dark hair half hiding his face, he looked like the grim reaper minus the scythe. “Malachi and the others are in position. All we need is a distraction.”

“Distraction?” Mattie wondered what they could possibly do to focus the mob’s attention away from the main event.

Lars’s expression was just a tad too smug. “I’ve got this.”

“Then we’re ready when you are.” Demon ghosted away without making a single sound on the metal walkway.

Lars was still wearing his suit. Mattie didn’t understand how it could possibly be comfortable to wear while fighting the bad guys, but he didn’t seem to notice. He began moving quickly toward a narrow set of steps leading to the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” she called as loudly as she dared.

He threw a cocky grin over his shoulder. “To make some arrests.”

“Wait, what?” She ran after him, but was already halfway down the steps.

He blew her a kiss. “We’ll come out the same way we came in. Be ready.”

LARS HOPED NOT one iota of his internal panic showed on his face, because it
felt
as if his entire world hung in the balance. He didn’t want Mattie to know how serious things really were. The crowd was on their feet, waving their fists in the air and demanding blood. Owen’s blood. There was no time for second thoughts.

Lars scanned the room and picked a likely spot to position himself. When all eyes turned to look at him, they would have to focus away from Owen’s exit. The scent of the nearby Neponset was heavy in the air. Lars dragged in a deep breath and gathered every ounce of the badass persona Selena always accused him of wearing like armor.

“If I could have your attention, please?” Lars pitched his voice to carry over the wild ruckus in the room. “This is a law enforcement matter.” He took out his badge and waved it around, gaining him the attention he needed. From his peripheral vision, he saw his team leap into action. “This is an illegal gathering here in the city of Boston.
Illegal!
Vacate the premises immediately, or you’ll be rounded up and carted off to face charges.”

A few snarling patrons turned on him like wild dogs. Lars braced for impact as half a dozen closed in around him. He dodged the first attacker. Spinning around, he swept the guy’s legs out from under him. He crashed to the ground, managing to trip up several of his buddies. Another man grabbed Lars by the shoulder, but before he could react, Dante appeared on his right and Jericho on his left. Jericho neatly chopped Lars’s assailant in the throat and sent him wheeling away.

The three men stood back-to-back as they wrestled with what felt like a horde of angry and mostly drunk people whose blood sport had been interrupted. Most were too impaired or unskilled to present much problem. Lars pushed and shoved, using the crowd’s flailing bodies against one another as he worked his way toward their exit.

Lars realized he, Dante, and Jericho were down to herding the masses toward the exits. Doors slammed as people chose self-preservation over the thrill of the fight. Soon there was nothing more than a few angry shouts. For the most part nobody cared to stick around and see if this was a real or fake bust. Chairs hit the ground with clangs after being pushed over by patrons beating a quick path to the door.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Lars goaded with his voice, wanting them to hurry up. “I said this is a bust!”

From the corner of his eye, Lars had watched Owen’s immediate reaction. The normally stoic man had grabbed hold of the chain-link barrier in his haste to see why Lars had appeared in front of the mob. Now Owen was busy trying to kick his way free of the cage. Malachi appeared with Demon at his back to help Owen break out.

Lars noticed two of the guys who’d been with Jason that night at Triptych. They were making a beeline for Owen and the cage. Without a thought for his own safety, Lars launched into a full sprint to head them off.

Spotting an opening, Lars grabbed the bulky Irish man around the neck. Leveraging the man’s momentum, Lars dug in his heels and spun the guy around. Letting go, he was satisfied to see the redhead smash into his compatriot with a satisfying crunch. Both men went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Unfortunately there were no broken bones or more serious injuries.

The redhead bounced to his feet and snarled. “I don’t like cops. Especially not when they cost me a mint in bets.”

Lars didn’t waste his breath responding. With the second guy already getting up, there was no time to stand around and exchange insults.

The redhead and his dark-skinned buddy lunged at the same moment. Lars ducked right, managing to miss one set of fists, though the other caught him a glancing uppercut across the right side of his jaw. Lars felt his neck snap back. He fought the blackness curling the edges of his vision.

A pair of arms clamped around his midsection as the dark man grabbed hold and squeezed. Now that they had him immobilized, they obviously intended to pummel him. The redhead drew back his arm for a massive punch, but Lars lifted his legs and planted his feet in the man’s stomach instead.

Gasping for air, the redhead crumpled to the ground. His buddy was off balance from the surprise addition of Lars’s full weight. Lars took the opportunity to throw his head back and smash the guy in the face. He let go with an ear-piercing wail, and Lars staggered to stay upright.

He gazed wildly around the room. It was steeped in the pure chaos of a full retreat, with no sign of Owen’s brother, Jason. The cage was empty of everything but the unconscious body of Owen’s opponent. Lars caught a glimpse of Dante and Jericho as they beat a quick path back up the narrow staircase to their top-floor exit. Lars opted to follow suit, hoping Malachi and Demon had gotten Owen out as planned.

His shoes made a hollow noise on the steps as he took them two at a time and turned at the top. The exit was so close. Lars’s heart was hammering, not with the adrenaline of the fight but with the anticipation of being reunited with the two people who mattered. His gut told him everything was going to change, and for once that was a good thing.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Once they were in the alley outside, Owen stopped and bent at the waist to catch his breath. Demon and Malachi flanked him, obviously keeping an eye out for anyone who might have followed. Owen didn’t see Lars, and he was anxious to know that his partner had made it out after threatening to arrest an entire building’s worth of scumbags.

“Owen!” The unexpected sound of Mattie’s voice made him straighten up so quickly his spine crackled.

Stunned didn’t even begin to cover the feeling of seeing Mattie run up with Dante Torres and Jericho Davies. He was on cordial, but not exactly friendly terms with the owners of Asylum. What interest could they have possibly had in this situation?

“I was so worried!” Mattie flung herself into his arms, and Owen gratefully scooped her up and held her close.

Her scent, her feel, the taste of her lips when he kissed her, it made every single moment of the past few hours worth it. Owen buried his face against her neck and sighed in relief. He wasn’t even going to get after her for putting herself in the thick of it. He was too glad to see her to be mad.

Dante’s drawl was tinged with laughter. “I think our work here is done, Jericho.”

“Good, because I’m ready to prove to Suri we didn’t get hurt tonight.” Jericho gave Owen a nod. “I’m sure we’ll see you around at some point.”

Owen swallowed back half a dozen sarcastic responses and went with something genuine instead. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Jericho cocked his head. “I know what it’s like to be scared shitless on behalf of someone you love. Considering the business we’re in, someday I might ask you for a hand.”

“Done,” Owen said with no hesitation.

Dante and Jericho disappeared as Lars navigated the dim alley. Owen sagged with relief. Lars looked a little more rumpled than usual, and Owen could see a bruise forming on one side of his jaw, but he was alive.

Owen swallowed back his emotions, knowing this wasn’t the time or place. “My heart damn near stopped when you threatened to arrest the whole crowd.”

Lars chuckled. “Little did they know this isn’t an Interpol case and I really didn’t have a leg to stand on. It’s all in the acting.”

“Or stupidity,” Malachi added darkly. “Do you have any idea how pissed Selena would’ve been if you’d gotten yourself killed?”

Demon made a low noise that might have actually been a laugh. “Send Malachi into a room full of bloodthirsty thugs, and he’s fine. Upset Selena, and he’s reduced to a quivering pile of emotional baggage.”

Malachi looked indignant. “Hey! You’re no better.”

“Just less obvious,” Demon retorted.

Mattie tugged Owen’s arm. “Not to break up the party of manly hormones, but I think it’s time to go.”

Lars jingled his truck keys. “Agreed.”

“So we’ll see you back at Triptych,” Malachi said expectantly.

Mattie immediately disagreed. “No, please, I want to go
home
.”

Owen couldn’t refuse her anything she asked in that plaintive tone of voice. He swept her up and cradled her next to his heart. “Then let’s go home.”

* * * *

Mattie kicked off her sandals and drew her feet up onto the bench seat as she watched Lars’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness on their way to Danvers. She’d initially been surprised that in a world of the luxury vehicles favored by his peers, Lars had kept the battered pickup he’d driven since his youth.

The dinged body was peppered with rust spots. It sported a roll bar in the bed and a brush guard on the grille. Plus, there was only room for three people. The way Mattie saw things, it was damn near perfect.

There had been silence in the cab for almost the whole trip, but it was Lars who finally broke the stillness. “I shouldn’t have left this morning like I did.”

So much had happened since then it took Mattie a few moments to catch up with his thoughts. After watching some gigantic lunatic who called himself the Terminator put a knife to Owen’s throat and seeing Lars announce himself as a cop to a legion of criminals, the unresolved relationship with Isabel Adams-Channing seemed pretty minor.

Owen stirred from his contemplation of the road. “I already said I get it.”

“I told my mother the truth today.” Lars’s chuckle had a note of hysteria to it. “By the time the night was done, I’d pretty well told her all of it.”

Mattie felt oddly victorious in light of everything else that had happened. “How did she take the news about the cancer?” Mattie pulled a face. “I saw how gracefully she handled the discovery of our relationship. I hope the other was better.”

Lars grunted, hands visibly tightening on the wheel. “Not really.”

“Hang on,” Owen interjected. “Are you saying you two saw her tonight?”

Mattie felt her cheeks heat up and was glad the guys would be unlikely to notice in the dim glow coming from the dashboard. “I might have crashed the fancy reception and made it impossible for Lars
not
to explain about us.”

Owen looked from Mattie to Lars. “All of us?”

Lars nodded. “Yes. And actually, she took that about as well as she took hearing that I’d had cancer and had been rendered useless in her baby-making efforts.”

Mattie reached out and cupped Lars’s cheek. “Don’t say it like that. You’re not useless.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the gene pool in this relationship.” Lars glanced over at the two of them, and Mattie wished there was some way to make him understand.

Owen shifted in the cab and reached over to lay a hand on his shoulder. “If you hadn’t unraveled this mess tonight, I’d have been rendered useless by some dickwad who calls himself the Terminator.”

Owen’s comment brought it all rushing back in stunning clarity. Mattie trembled, feeling an undeniable urge to prove to herself that Owen was still very much alive. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned toward his seat on the passenger side.

“Baby, what are you”—Owen’s question died when she straddled him and began to kiss him in earnest. “Aw hell, baby. You’re making me hard.”

Mattie ran her hands down his naked chest until she reached his waistband. “Good.”

The truck swerved slightly as Lars tried to see what was going on. “Are you two trying to torture me on purpose?”

Mattie reacquainted herself with the smooth contours of Owen’s pectorals. She touched his scars with a new sense of awe, realizing what each one had cost him. He gazed at her with dark eyes full of passion as she leaned down and licked each one of his nipples in turn. He tasted of salty sweat and man.