Reclaimed (3 page)

Chapter Four

Uttering an unaccustomed prayer, Connor swung his
Dodge Charger
into Karen’s driveway and cut the engine.
P
lease let this work
. He sat in his car a moment, giving the HRT members time to catch up to him on foot and to surround the house. His pounding heart rocked him in his seat. He and Gallway had rendezvoused at the street corner and devised a rescue scenario in less than five minutes.

There was no plan B. It was Plan A or bust. 

Gallway didn’t like it, but Connor had convinced him it was necessary. He’d seen this kind of set up before. The second bullets started
flying,
Jameson would put his gun to Karen’s head and pull the trigger, mobster style. The only way to decrease the odds of that happening was for Connor to get as close to her as possible before HRT made its move. 

His old home sat in darkness. Not a single light shone from any of the front rooms, only a subtle glow coming from the master bedroom at the rear. He thought he saw a silhouette behind the living room window. At the same time, the ninja-like figures of the HRT members drifted through the shadows at the edges of the property.

Most of them would enter the house via the basement entrance, using the key Connor had
held onto
. A few would remain behind the mature azalea bushes dotting his property
in order
to catch any
“
squirters
”
lucky enough to escape. 

Kudos to Karen for confirming in their coded speech that there were two men holding her.
No doubt Jameson was the
expensive
brandy.  

His cell phone vibrated. Gallway was calling him.
“Yeah.”

“Entering the basement now,” Gallway
murmured,
his shallow breaths audible. “I hear footsteps overhead and a man’s voice.”

“Proceed to the top of the stairs and wait for
the go-code
,” Connor said. “The stairs squeak, so easy going up.”

“Roger that. Be careful, sir. Keep your phone on.”

Without hanging up, Connor dropped his phone into the inside pocket of his trench coat. That way, HRT could overhear his cue. His intestines knotted as he pushed out of his car. Fear was a familiar bedfellow in his line of business, but this went beyond fear. This was personal.

The thought that this could be his last day alive jagged through this mind. And he’d spent it how? Working, as usual—something he had done day in and day out his entire adult life. Diligence had made him a special agent in charge. It had also sent his wife into the arms of another man and cost him his marriage.

What a fool he’d been to think that he, alone, could hold back the tide of crime. There were others like him, men like his son Drake
, who were
willing to share that burden so that their jobs didn’t consume them, so that their lives still held quality and meaning.

I
t was Karen who’d brought meaning to
his
existence. And yet
,
in his ambition and his egotism, he’d failed to realize it.
Until it was almost too late.

As his toe hit the front stoop, he gathered his splintered thoughts, climbed the steps and reached for the doorknob. Just like Karen said on the phone, it was unlocked. His palm itched for the weight of his
Glock
. But if he came in shooting, she would pay the price. He’d seen that happen with the Marsalis case. So he kept his
Glock
out of sight, hoping it would be overlooked.

Turning the knob, he gingerly pushed the door open. The familiar fragrance of home, of apples and vanilla, greeted him, along with a hair-r
a
ising silence.

“Karen, I’m here,” he called out in a voice he hardly recognized.

Click-click
.
The sound of a round being chambered had him pulling the door shut to shield himself, only he was too slow. A burst of light preceded a brutal punch to his thigh. He doubled over, clutching his leg, and realized he’d been shot by a pistol with a silencer. The shooter lowered his gun as he came toward him, indicating to Connor that his objective had been to debilitate him, not to kill him—not yet, at least.

Seizing him with a large hand, which Connor knew did not belong to Jameson, the shooter hauled him upright and slammed his back into the entryway wall
where he
knocked a picture off its nail. As the glass in the frame shattered, he heard Karen shout his name in fear.

“Who are you?” Connor gasped, affecting surprise, while letting the HRT lead know that he was still alive.

The suppressed pistol prodded his ribs as the assailant patted him down. Luckily, he missed the cell phone in the lining of Connor’s coat, but came away with the
Glock
at his ankle.

Fuck
,
Connor thought, feeling doubly vulnerable without it and trying to gauge how badly he’d been shot. Blood gleamed darkly on his slacks; he felt it streaming down his leg. 

“Oh, you’ll see,” the stranger promised, as he grappled for control of Connor’s wrist. “You’d best cooperate if you want to see your pretty wife alive.”

“Where is she?” Connor demanded.

“
Gimme
your other hand and I’ll take you to her.” 

Every instinct screamed for him to resist as his wrists were cuffed before him. The man had obviously never been in law enforcement. But he was tall and powerful, a fit match for Connor on a good day. With pain radiating through his femur to his hip and up his spine, he could hardly stand upright, let alone overcome the brute.
Cinching the cuffs tight,
the assailant shoved him toward the hall and prodded him toward the master bedroom with the tip of his gun.

As they passed the door to the basement, Connor took comfort in
Gallway’s
proximity. Jameson and his goon were
well
outnumbered. They would soon be apprehended. In the meantime, Connor’s sole objective was to keep Karen safe.

He braced himself for what he’d see as the bedroom door swung open. A vision of her tied to the bed, stripped of her clothes, neck and shoulders bathed in blood, sparked a reckless rage within him. He headed toward Jameson with a roar.

Only to draw up short as Jameson leveled his pistol at Karen’s head.

Connor froze, his chest heaving with the effort it took not to rip Jameson’s head off. “You son-of-a-bitch!” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Tut-tut-tut.”
Jameson clicked his tongue in warning. “One false move and I’ll splatter her brains across the pillow.” 

“Connor!”

He
turned his attention to his wife.
The
garnet streaks of blood running from her neck to her shoulders looked to be dry, and
she seemed to be breathing normally
.
His most immediate concern was shock, as her
dilated eyes, usually a warm shade of chocolate brown,
resembled
black pools in
her chalk-white face
.

“Hey,” he said, in an attempt to reassure her, “I brought the brandy. It’s right outside.”

A flicker of relief shone in her eyes. 

“Well, isn’t this touching?” Jameson simpered. “Have a seat,” he added on a harder note. He sent the other man a nod, and Connor was seized from behind and dragged back into a desk chair they
had evidently brought in
from the den. With a grunt of pain, he caught himself and the chair from toppling over together.

“So, you finally got me where you want me,” he grated, to keep the mobster talking. “I’m impressed.”

Jameson smiled smugly at his accomplishment. “Did you ever doubt it? You took everything from me, Donovan—my bride, my wealth, my freedom. It’s time I returned the favor.
Cubbins
.”
He glanced at the other man. “Secure his ankles so he can watch without being tempted to join in.”

With a smirk of anticipation,
Cubbins
hunkered cautiously at Connor’s feet. In order to use both his hands, he’d tucked his gun into his waistband. 

Connor eyed Jameson’s pistol still at Karen’s head. His finger was crooked around the trigger, the safety was off, but Jameson didn’t plan
on killing
her yet. Raping the wives of their foes was one of the Centurion mob’s favorite MO’s. Connor couldn’t get across the room to protect her with his ankles bound to the chair.

It was time to unleash HRT.

“We should have a drink first,” he suggested, projecting his voice as he cued Gallway to make his move.
“To celebrate your victory.”

Jameson looked up at him, confused. In that same instant, a small canister rolled across the carpet from the direction of the open door. Connor kicked
Cubbins
onto his ass as the canister exploded. Startled, Jameson swung
his pistol
first toward the canister and then at Connor.
But Connor had already leapt
out of his seat
. He
took two steps to the bed and threw himself across
Karen’s body
,
shielding her with his shoulders and arms as
gunfire peppered the walls and ceiling. 

Jameson shrieked with a high-pitched scream that indicated to Connor he might’ve been shot.
Cubbin’s
silenced pistol gave a pop that was answered by a
rat-
t
at
and a heavy
thud as
Cubbins
fell back to the floor. 

“Put your face on the ground!” Gallway shouted. Men bristling with weapons and covered in body armor swarmed into the room.

Connor snuck a peek under his arm. Jameson rose up slowly from his knees, his pistol pointed at Connor’s broad back. Connor felt his blood congeal.

This
is
it, then
. He was going to die protecting Karen.
Fine
.
He’d
rather it happened that way tha
n for Karen to take a bullet because of him.

But, in the next instant, Jameson turned the gun on himself. “No,” he uttered in a faint voice. “I won’t let you take me again.”

Pop
!
Gray matter sprayed suddenly from the far side of his head, and his body crumpled. Connor shut his eyes and looked away as
relief and revulsion
made his stomach roil.

Now
it was over.
And he was, miraculously,
still alive.

Putting his elbows into the mattress, he eased his weight off Karen’s chest to look down at her.
Her heart still thudded between the
pillows of her breasts
. Her shallow breaths fanned his neck.
In her expanded pupils, he saw a tiny reflection of his own worried face. But then her eyes flooded with tears
,
and the image blurred.

She tugged at the restrains that kept her arms over her head.

“Sir, how bad
are
you hurt?” Kirk,
Gallway’s
medic, was leaning over the bed, trying to get a look at Karen. “How’s your wife?”

Connor brushed off his concern. “I’m fine.” He didn’t want any man ogling his wife. “Cut these off me,” he said, showing the agent his bound wrists. “Thanks, now, give me your knife and find my wife a robe to wear. There should be one on the back of the bathroom door.”

He glanced into Karen’s swimming eyes, again.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” he said, working the blade between the plastic
flexcuffs
and the metal without cutting her. By the time he freed her wrists, Kirk was back with the robe. The room was still swarming with men. Connor took the offering and dragged it over Karen as he levered himself off
her
, groaning at the pain in his left thigh.

Between helping her to cover herself and unknotting the tasseled cords that trapped her ankles, he didn’t spare a thought for his injury, until he tried to stand up.

It felt like someone had taken the top off his head and sucked his brains out. Suddenly, he couldn’t feel his legs at all. All he felt was him falling and then blackness.

Chapter
Five

Karen settled into the first class seat on the Boeing 747 flight to Athens and adjusted the seatbelt to fit her small frame. The
aisle
seat next to her
window seat
stood empty.
Good.
She wasn’t in the mood for small talk. In fact, she wasn’t in the mood for anything at all
,
besides sleeping and sulking and wondering when and how she was going to rally from her depression.  

The night of the incident, as she’d come to think of the horrific minutes she was held prisoner, she had seen all the emotion in Connor’s eyes that she’d missed during their long, rocky marriage, and she’d assumed it meant
that
they would reconcile. So the moment her doctor had released her, with twelve stitches in her neck, she’d located Connor’s room in the same hospital, eager to share the words left unspoken between them and to thank him for being her hero. 

She’d found him lying in bed, combating waves of agony because, stubborn man that he was, he’d refused any painkillers.

Luckily, the bullet that felled him had gone straight through his leg, tearing into muscle but missing both arteries and bone. She’d reached for his hand, not just to offer her sympathy but also to convey her gratitude and even her love
. But
she’d
realized
when he’d faile
d to squeeze her hand in return
that whatever emotions she’d glimpsed earlier that night had already retreated. 

Her heart contracted with hurt as she recalled their ensuing conversation.

“I just…I just wanted to thank you,” she’d choked out.

He’d glanced at her, startled by her words.
His gaze had
touched on the white bandage at her neck before lock
ing with hers
again.

“
Don’t.
Fucking.
Thank. Me
.” He’d ground out each individual word with a virulence that panged her. “I almost got you killed, Karen!” 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He
’d sworn
and turned away
,
but not before she saw the self-censure in his eyes. “Of course it’s my fault. Who else’s fault would it be?”

“But I’m okay, Connor. You saved me.”

“You are
not
okay. He cut your goddamn throat!”

“But that’s all.” Did he think
Cubbins
had raped her already? Was he suddenly repulsed by that? Should she explain that, even though he’d found her naked, nothing had happened?

But he’d closed his eyes. Beads of sweat dotted his brow
,
and she knew she should let him rest.

She thought he wouldn’t speak again, but as she reached the hospital room door, he added, “Special Agent
Gallway’s
looking for you. He’s going to take you to a hotel and keep watch over you while your house is getting cleaned.”

Her
house.
So that’s how it was going to remain.

“Thank you,” she said past the bitterness starting to harden her heart.

“
Christ
.” He’d turned his face from her and refused to look in her direction again. Apparently, she’d erred by thanking him again.

So much for their tender and emotional reunion.

Stunned and disillusioned, Karen had left his room in search of Gallway. She’d only heard from Connor one time after that, when he’d called to check on her. Divorce seemed imminent
, just when she’d
realized she wanted her marriage back.

Turning her gaze out the plane’s window,
Karen
stared unseeing at the busy tarmac below. What had she expected? For Connor to change overnight? He’d put on the same emotional armor that he’d always worn, dashing her hope for anything more intimate. As far as Karen was concerned, he’d shut her out for the last time.

They were done.
Finished.
What made her think even for a moment that he’d learned from the past to start anew?

That night, she’d stayed at the hotel where Gallway had reserved
her a
room. And even when the HRT lead had assured her that her home was spick and span the next day, with new locks on all the doors and the security system updated, she’d remained at the hotel, regardless of the cost. Her home wasn’t a home without her family. She couldn’t go back and be the last one standing.
Alone.

She’d called the therapy center and informed Carl that she was taking time off. She’d slept through Christmas day and the week following, unable to return to work, unable to sleep without suffering nightmares. When Connor called her that one time, “just to check on her,” she hadn’t picked up.

Two could play his game.

It was Drake, flesh of her flesh, who got credit for dragging her out of bed. Having called her several times a day, every day of the week, he’d finally informed her that she was flying out
tomorrow
to see him and Sky, who needed help putting together a nursery. The baby was due in June. He’d bought his mother a first-class ticket to Athens, leaving at 9 A.M. from Dulles
,
and she had better the hell be on that flight.  

So, here she was, bound for sunny Greece and unable to whip up a drop of enthusiasm, except when she thought about her first grandbaby, not due for another six months. Her eyes filled with tears
that
she was sick of crying.

In her peripheral vision, she took note of a tall figure pausing in the aisle beside the empty seat.
Please don’t sit by me
. He lifted his carry-on into the rack immediately over her head,
canceling out her hope
that the seat would remain empty. Karen dashed a hand across her
wet
cheeks while the stranger lowered himself with a grunt into the seat beside her and said nothing.

His low grunt and the familiar scent stealing into Karen’s nostrils made her heart give a funny leap.
It couldn’t be
. Turning her face from the window, she encountered Connor’s green stare with widening eyes. He sent her a tentative smile.

“What in hell are you doing here?” she
exclaimed.

He looked down at his hands which he held, interlaced, in his lap. “
Well.
. . my boss thinks I’m headed to the Mediterranean on vacation.”

“You’ve never taken a vacation in your life,” she pointed out.

“Maybe it’s time I did. But I’m on not on vacation.” He glanced at her sidelong, with an expression that struck her as appealingly humble.

“Then what are you doing here?”

A touch of color stained his cheekbones. “Hoping to win my wife back,” he said, tentatively. 

A sudden suspicion pricked the bubble expanding in Karen’s chest. “Drake put you up to this, didn’t he?” 

“Nope.
But he did let me know that you
were
head
ing
out to see him.”
He directed his gaze up the aisle and nodded. “That man in 3C let me switch seats with him.”

“
So y
ou’re following me?”

“About time, don’t you think?
”

She’d seen the imploring light in his eyes once before, on the dance floor at Drake’s wedding.

“Karen, I’m sorry for what I said at the hospital. I was just so…
furious
with myself for letting that happen to you.”

She made a sound of protest.

“Please, let me finish.” He laid his large, gentle hand over hers, and the warmth of his skin traveled up her arm to speed her heart. “I’ve never been good at telling you how I really feel. I know that. I know that’s why you left me.”

Actually,
he
had left
her
after destroying
about five thousand dollars worth of their property
, but that was beside the point.

“But I’m willing to work on that.” His voice roughened. “I’ve learned a lot these past few years. Like how much you mean to me. It’s like
. . .
you’re the sun.”

She made a choking sound and quickly cleared her throat. It was just so unexpected, hearing Connor articulate his feelings. “Go ahead,” she encouraged.

“And I’m a planet. And if can’t orbit you, then I just float off into a black hole.”

He’d done it. He’d even waxed poetic in the process. Blinking back what looked like tears, he sent her that same imploring look. 

Suddenly, it dawned on her that he’d wanted to tell her all this at Drake’s wedding. That was why he’d asked her to dance. Only she hadn’t given him the chance to work up his courage.

“Oh, Connor.”
She threaded her fingers through his, as relief, regret, and joy took her by storm.

He turned in his seat to face her. “Please say it’s not too late.” Lifting his free hand, he ran it lightly through her hair. “I can change, Karen. I can be the man that you need me to be.”

Tears of discovery burned her eyes. “You’ve always been that man,” she whispered. “You’re the love of my life, Connor.”

At her words, he closed his eyes in visible relief, bent closer, and rested his forehead on hers. “I don’t deserve your love.”

“Yes, you do. I’m the one who lost faith in us. I’m the one who let go.”

“Because I wasn’t holding you close enough.”

In the next instant his lips touched hers. And right there in the first class cabin, with the flight attendant eyeing them indulgently, he kissed her like a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Karen kissed him back, delighting in the feel of his lips on hers again after so many years
.
I feel young
and in love
again.
Everything inside her seemed to blossom, and she remembered feeling her husband’s desire for her on the dance floor. Right now, she wished they could be utterly alone. Just
how big was the first class lavatory
, anyway
? It might be worth finding out.

As if reading her thoughts, Connor deepened the kiss and started to tease her mouth open with his tongue.

Her husband had reclaimed her. The past was over and done. She was heading to Greece to visit their son and to enjoy what promised to be a second honeymoon.

What more could any woman ask for?