Hunting (30 page)

Ruthie was unusually quiet,
and had been since the moment Jules had ushered her out of Meredith
and Kenneth’s house. She hadn’t asked any questions, but continued
to stare at Jules from the doorframe between the living room and
kitchen, his dogs standing at her back.

“
Momma Jules, why are you
sad?” Tiny hands wrapped around Jules’ pant leg. She’d changed into
scrubs at the hospital, while waiting for Malachi to be sewn up.
She still wore those borrowed cotton.

The man would be just fine.
The bullet had been a through-and-through, sliding in one side of
him and out the other, doing minimal damage. It hadn’t even nicked
his small intestine, which had been her first fear. He’d been so
damned lucky! Quarter of an inch in any direction and it could have
been so much worse. Luck and perfection seemed to co-mingle for
Malachi P. Brockman.

Thank God.

But she was trying to
forget about all that.

She dried her hands with a
dishtowel and scooped Ruthie into her arms. “Some sad stuff
happened at work today, but I’m happy to be home with you
now.”

“
That’s nice!” Ruthie
tangled her fingers in Jules’ hair, and laid her head on Jules’
shoulder.

The feel of the little warm
body pressed against hers had the barrier on her emotions
crumbling. Jules forced herself not to hug the little girl too
tight, but she wasn’t ready to let Ruthie down yet. Not
yet.

Finally, though, she put
the little girl down. “Sweetie, why don’t you go play with your new
dolls Aunt Al gave you? I need to finish the dishes, and then we’ll
read a book or two. How does that sound?”

“
Really nice.” She said it
just like Meredith…and just like Malachi.

Was she destined to be
thinking about him all damned night? Why couldn’t she get him out
of her head? Couldn’t she just forget him for a little while
tonight and focus on Ruthie and the life she was trying to build
for the two of them, even though they were still in his house, with
two agents sitting in a car outside?

Malachi Brockman was not an
integral part of that life. Not now, not ever. She wouldn’t let him
be.

And today was the ultimate
reason for that. He was too careless, too reckless, too damned
Galahadish. The risk was just too great, and she would be the first
one to admit it.

Yes,
there were
feelings between them. She’d known that since South Dakota, if not
before. Feelings that had started at least in that damned basement
so many weeks ago.

Tomorrow she and Ruthie
would go back home. She’d talk to Ed about getting a protective
detail assigned to her and Ruthie. A detail
other
than
Malachi. And when she needed to interact with him on a professional
basis, she’d simply send Mia. That would be the best, and safest,
option for her. For all of them.

She finished the dishes
while listening to the sound of Ruthie talking to the Cabbage Patch
dolls Al had found in her mother’s attic and passed on to Ruthie.
The child chattered happily to the dolls and the dogs and Jules
wished she had Ruthie’s resilience. Even a fraction of it. The
child had seen so much—how had she managed to stay so happy and
positive?

Jules hoped she’d always
keep that trait. And she’d do her damnedest to help Ruthie preserve
it.

The sound of a key turning
in the back lock had her moving to the door. She hadn’t forgotten
the reason she was at Malachi’s in the first place—and was well
aware that there was a security detail posted on both ends of his
street. And that Chalmers was on the front porch, just
watching.

But it wasn’t one of Ed’s
people outlined in the glow from the porch light.

Malachi grinned at her,
that oh-so-infuriating grin of his that drove her batshit crazy
with irritation at times. He leaned against his brother, the larger
man supporting most of Malachi’s weight.

“
What are you doing here?
You are insane! You should still be under anesthesia!” Jules moved
to him, unable
not
to. He wobbled and she grabbed him,
certain he was about to topple, despite Mick’s hold on
him.

“
He woke up about an hour
ago and insisted.” Mick shook his head, his own irritation with his
brother very clear on his face. “Said he had to get to you and
Ruthie. Signed himself out against medical advice. Said he had his
own personal doctor at home and who better to take care of
him?”

“
And you couldn’t
make
him stay put? You’re bigger than him and he’s been
shot!” He felt so warm and solid beneath her hands. So alive and
real and
Malachi
. Hard to forget that he could have been
seriously hurt or killed just a few hours ago.

“
And apparently far less
obstinate.” Mick tried to shrug, but his hands were full holding on
to his older brother. “Let’s get him upstairs!”

“
Julia, my love, you only
have to ask once.” Malachi was still grinning.
The idiot!
“Take me upstairs. Show me you really do love me.”

“
Please. What do you think
we could do when we got up there? What should happen is someone
driving your
rear
back to the hospital and forcibly tying
you to the bed, if necessary! What if you’ve pulled staples? Caused
internal bleeding? You could be dead, you idiot!” She tried to keep
her voice low, mindful of the little ears in the next room. Her
words were harsh, but her hands gentle when she helped Mick guide
his brother toward the back stairs. He felt so
solid
beneath
her hands. And that, more than anything, reassured her. Even though
she knew he was an idiot. This just proved it.

It took forever to get the
lughead up to his room, even with Mick’s help.
Malachi
wasn’t cooperating, and Jules had to stop several times to bitch at
him for where his hands had roamed.

He just laughed.

“
Anesthesia gets him
loopy. Sorry about that. Didn’t know this would lead to me
witnessing assault.” His brother guided him down to his mattress.
“He’ll wake up tomorrow with one hell of a headache, I
bet.”

“
Better than being dead.”
She pulled the too-big coat off of Malachi’s shoulders and returned
it to its rightful owner. It looked like Mick had wrapped it around
his brother. No wonder—Malachi still wore a hospital gown, and what
looked to be sweatpants. She had no idea where he’d gotten those,
but she’d leave them on him for now. She so did not want to wrestle
him free of pants, too. “Did he at least bring his prescriptions
for pain? Antibiotics?”

“
Al’s collecting that from
the doctor. We’re listed as his primary next-of-kin, so she stayed
to fill out the paperwork after he went AWOL.”

“
Giving you the job of
wrangling lughead home.”

“
That about covers it.”
Mick looked at her then back at his brother, who was now snoring on
the pillow, mouth open and still curved in a stupid grin. “He was
determined to get to you. Nothing was going to stop him. You know
how he gets.”

“
Sure. It’s the
Galahad-complex of his.”

“
No. It’s more than that.
But I’ll leave the two of you alone to figure it out. He cares for
you, ya know? In more ways than I think even he realizes.” He
stared at her for a moment. “Please don’t hurt him. I think, more
than any woman alive,
you
can. Just remember that,
ok?”

Mikhail was
wrong—
she
couldn’t hurt him. Because she wouldn’t be around
him much longer. They would both be better off that way. She
couldn’t resist checking the wound for herself, and slipped the
gown up to reveal his now not-so-perfect six-pack abdomen. That
perfection would always be marred by this. The bandage was neat and
about three by four inches. So the surgery hadn’t been too
extensive. Not that she’d thought it would be—if it had, he for
damned sure wouldn’t have been up walking around less than four
hours after being shot.

He really did think he was
Superman. She pulled the gauze and tape free, and then studied the
wound. Sixteen staples held him together. It had been a through and
through, they’d said. So there was most likely damage to his back
as well.

But she’d leave that for
tomorrow. He was sleeping now, and the last thing she wanted to do
was wake him—or hurt him.

She so didn’t want to hurt
him. In any way.

She sat on the edge of his
bed for the longest time, just staring at him. Comparing his face
to Rick’s. Malachi’s was more dramatically handsome. Rick’s had
been a quiet handsomeness that she’d loved. Malachi’s hair had more
curl and was shades darker. Rick had had dimples, too, but not as
deep as she knew Malachi’s were. Rick’s hair had been as soft.
Jules ran her fingers over Malachi’s without thought.

Stupid man. Why couldn’t he
have just left her alone weeks ago? Why had he taken one look at
her back in South Dakota when they’d first met nine months ago, and
set out to drive her crazy? He’d done a good job of it. Why else
was she here, staring at him and remembering how Rick had looked in
his coffin?

Jules bent over, resting
her head beside the lughead’s. His breathing was deep and rhythmic.
Healthy. Perfect.

Jules closed her eyes as
the first of the tears started.

***

It took every ounce of
strength he possessed to keep his breathing even. Hearing her
tears, though he knew she tried to muffle them was ten times—no, a
hundred times—worse than the feeling of that bullet ripping through
his body.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her
today but he’d do it all over again in a second if that’s what it
took to protect her.

This near silent grieving
cut at him worse than the surgeon’s knife ever could. He lifted his
hand, and ran his fingers through her hair. It was tangled; had she
not taken the time to brush it? A pencil dislodged and he smiled to
himself. Julia and her pencils, always stuck in her hair. When had
she developed that habit? Was it one she’d always had? Why did he
find it so endearing?

“
Julia…my love…you’re
getting my pillow wet. Come up here.” If he’d had the strength to
lift her, he would have moved her himself. As it was, she appeared
compliant, following his guiding hand until she lay flush against
his side.

He said nothing else, just
held her against him for the longest time. Then they were both
asleep, curled around each other like he knew they should have been
all along.

Al pushed open the door to
her brother’s room and peered inside, needing to reassure herself
once again that he was home and safe and relatively
whole.

She tried to remind herself
that
this
was a part of their job, and one she and her
brothers had willingly signed up for—but in times like this, it was
hard to remember. Malachi had always seemed so invincible to her.
Seeing him weak and dependent upon Mick just to walk had scared
her—more than she’d ever thought she could. To see him walking at
all had surprised her, but he’d had his mind made up. And when
Malachi got something stuck in his head
nothing
would budge
it. Nothing. He was the most stubborn person she’d ever
known.

And he’d been bound and
determined to get to Jules.

Al could only wish she had
someone who cared about her like that. Did Jules even realize how
her brother felt? Did she feel the same?

Especially after they’d
been kidnapped at Thanksgiving. They’d feared Jules and Mal were
dead. What had happened between them, other than Jules being so
sick? Something certainly had. She’d never seen her brother act the
way he did with Jules. And that scared her—for both of them. Jules
was so…broken…at times. And Malachi was a damned steamroller when
he wanted something.

The two on the bed weren’t
moving, and she stepped closer. Just to check, make sure her
brother hadn’t stopped breathing since Mick had dragged him home.
Al still had his prescriptions in her bag. Had he had anything for
the pain recently? Why did he have to be so…
Malachi
all the
time? Strong, brave, protective, and good?

But then again, he had been
protecting Jules. How can she fault him for protecting someone he
loved? She’d do the same in a heartbeat.

Jules was curled against
him, looking like she belonged there. And her brother was holding
Jules so tenderly, like they’d slept together a thousand times
before. And who knew, maybe they had? They were both so private
when it came to their personal lives that Al was pretty certain Mal
would even hide a relationship with a colleague from her—when they
were all living together.

And Jules? Jules was
private number one. No one got too close to Jules, even her
friends.

But maybe, for her friend’s
sake, Malachi had.

The two of them deserved
someone to care about them.

Al slipped out the door,
closing it quietly behind her. She’d see to Ruthie and let Mal and
Jules have this little bit of time together. Apparently, they both
needed it.