Betrayed by a Kiss (22 page)

“Things are going on that you don’t know. Be patient. This will be over soon, and then things can go back to the way they were. We’ll all be safe again.”

“Safe? What do you think Dane will do if he finds out you’re screwing his wife? None of us will be safe ever again. Elizabeth and I have to disappear. It’s the only way this will work. He’ll think—” Alice extended her hands to him. “Listen, Joe. Untie me. We can go now. We don’t have to wait. He’ll drop off the money and we can get Elizabeth and go.”

“Taking Elizabeth—it will kill him.”

“I’m tired of putting him first. I want a life, too. With you, Joe.”

Joe approached Alice, and from her expression, Dane could tell she was relieved. She extended her hands, offering them for Joe to untie. Instead, Joe kicked the chair out from under her. “He deserves better than you.”

For the next minute, the room watched her die, slowly. Kicking and choking, clawing at the rope around her neck. Joe stood by, at first unmoving, and then pacing, as if deciding whether to save her or not. Everyone watching knew how it played out, but the video continued. Alice continued to suffer, continued to die. Joe didn’t intercede. It felt as if Dane, as if everyone watching were keeping vigil with Joe as he waited for Alice to die, as if they too were complicit. It was intolerable, unconscionable.

Dane was numb, and then he wasn’t, and it felt as if someone had opened a vein and his life was bleeding onto the carpet. He shook, feeling betrayed on every level. Joe, Alice, both were supposed to love him. Dane thought he hadn’t moved a muscle, but he must have revealed the violence he barely kept in check, because guards converged on him, as if they expected him to go berserk. In the commotion, Marnie was shoved to the side, knocked into a guard. She shouted up a storm. Guards pounded on Dane from all angles, making it difficult to deflect their kicks and blows with his wrists tied behind his back.

A gun discharged. All eyes were on Whitman. His gun, aimed at the ceiling, had shot a hole in the drywall above. Plaster dust settled on his dark blue suit jacket. Then he aimed the gun at Dane.

“Hey, hey! Wait a minute! Get my phones,” Marnie said. “It’s your turn for a show.”

“Phone?” Whitman looked as if he were calculating if Marnie was wasting his time.

Dane hurt, but he was able to struggle back onto his knees. His wrists bled from his failed attempts to break the zip ties, and with the guns pointed at him, he didn’t see a path out of this room alive.

“Your wife’s phone.” Marnie moved toward Dane on her knees, until she knocked into his side and then scurried behind him. It looked as if she were using him as a shield, and no one, least of all Dane, was complaining. When he felt the blade move against the zip tie binding him, nicking his skin, a wave of relief hit him. Marnie had been busy. While he and Whitman’s guards were going at it, she’d secured a knife in the confusion. A glance at the nearest guard showed his sheath empty. “You kill us and your family’s dead,” she said. There was no hesitancy in her tone. There was no one listening that didn’t believe her. He could see it in everyone’s expression, but only Whitman had skin in this game. Everyone else waited for orders.

Whitman waved a guard over. “Give me the phone she came with.” The guard complied and handed the two over. Whitman recognized his wife’s phone and picked it up. “Where did you get this?”

“Does it matter? I wiped the passcode. You can access the pictures simply by turning the phone on.” Marnie sawed with the knife once more, and the zip tie binding Dane’s wrists split in two. She pressed the knife into his hands. Now his hands were free and he was armed. He slipped the zip tie and the knife into his waistband, under his shirt, afraid either would be spotted by a guard. “Look at the photos,” Marnie said. “Turn the phone on.” She moved to Dane’s left, kneeling beside him. If she was afraid, she hid it well.

Whitman opened the app, and his jaw dropped. He threw the phone at her. Marnie ducked in time. Dane had assumed she’d come with a plan. It was what he was afraid of. But now it was in play, and he had to trust her and allow it to play out. If he rushed Whitman with only a knife against all those guns, odds were Elizabeth would be orphaned tonight.

“When were these taken?” Whitman waited, like a businessman looking for a counter offer.

“An hour ago. The person who took those photos is there now, watching them sleep, waiting to see how this night shakes out,” Marnie said. “Release us. This can end now.”

Dane heard activity in the hall, saw police officers rushing from the stairwell and elevator. Whitman didn’t believe it at first. Dane could see it on his face and posture. His guards scattered.

Enraged, Whitman shot at the fleeing guards, but his aim was poor and they were wearing Kevlar. He turned to easier targets, aiming the gun at Marnie, murder in his eye. Dane dived on top of her, knocking her to the floor as he covered her with his body. Shots were fired. Dane retrieved the knife from his waistband and threw it, planting it deep in Whitman’s shoulder, buying Dane time to push off Marnie and tackle Whitman. They wrestled for the gun. It went off as he ripped it from Whitman’s hand, shattering the glass wall. Marnie screamed.

Dane glanced back, needing her safe. She’d rolled clear of the falling glass, swung her legs out, and took down the last remaining guard with an ax kick. He saw her steal his gun as the man struggled to his feet, running from the approaching cops. With Marnie safe, Dane was now free to concentrate on not killing Whitman, because he
really
wanted to kill Whitman.

“Put the guns down! Put the guns down!” Sullivan and his men burst into the office, subduing the guards. “Ian Whitman, this is a warrant for your arrest and a subpoena for your servers, any files in the building—”

“Daddy!” Elizabeth ran into the room, a bloody knife in her hand.

“Typical cops.” Marnie gave a hovering cop the gun she’d stolen and grimaced in pain when he cut her bonds. “Always showing up after the show is over.”

Two uniformed officers wrestled Whitman to his feet and walked him from the room with the knife still lodged in his shoulder. His adrenaline rush must have worn off, because Whitman’s legs gave out halfway to the elevator and they were forced to drag him the rest of the way.

Crying, Elizabeth launched herself onto him. Dane made her drop the knife first, then he grabbed her hands to see if they were hurt.
It’s not her blood on her hands. It’s not her blood.
Relief made him weak. Her cries broke his heart. It was over, he thought. They were finally safe.

“Ma’am. You can’t leave.” A uniformed policeman was getting agitated, tugging Marnie back into the room when he’d caught her trying to leave by the stairwell. Marnie broke his hold with difficulty. When he reached for her again, she lifted her hands and walked deeper into Whitman’s office, glass crunching beneath her feet. She continued walking until she was on the darkened balcony, leaning against the rail.

He guessed what she was about to do a moment before she did it, but didn’t attempt to stop her. This was Marnie. She had her reasons for everything. But when she leaned back, flipping over the rail into the dark night, Dane couldn’t stop his shout of panic. It was hard to remember that this was the same balcony she’d scaled down after her first attempt to steal the files. She’d showed him how she did it, the finger holds she’d used. It wasn’t a mystery how she could climb down, but it was still unnerving.

He rushed to the balcony’s edge, Elizabeth held tightly to his side, and watched with Sullivan and the few cops who’d noticed her stunt. They aimed flashlights to dispel the shadows of the security lighting and hissed with awe and sometimes fright as she made her way down, balcony to balcony.

“Let her go,” Dane said. “Without her you wouldn’t have gotten the security feed. She saved us all.”

When she hung from the railing on the first floor and dropped the ten feet to the ground, there was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Marnie tucked, rolled, looked up, and saw their shocked faces. With a
fuck you
smile, she gave them all the finger, walking backward toward the parking lot.

“I want to be her when I grow up,” Elizabeth said. It made him laugh. He hugged his daughter while Marnie ran to the van. To Smith. It had to be Smith. Everyone gaped as the van shredded rubber on the way out.

Sullivan pulled out his portable police radio and hit the receiver button. “Stand down. Let the woman go.” He dropped the radio from his mouth and caught Dane’s attention. “She looks familiar.”

“That’s Marnie,” Elizabeth said.

And she was gone—until she wanted to be found again. Dane peeled the wire off the edge of his belt and handed it to Sullivan. “Did you get everything you need?”

“Yes. You’re off the hook. The transcripts are being typed now.” Sullivan pocketed the wire, watching Whitman down below in the parking lot being tended by an EMT, cuffed and mouthy to the attending uniform officer. “Elizabeth was kidnapped, so the feds will want a say in the prosecution. The lieutenant will act like he’s pissed to hand it over, but personally, I think he’ll be relieved. Every initialed agency working on the taxpayer’s dime will want in on this case.”

“The company’s bank is in the Cayman Islands.”

“Interpol, too, then. Whitman’s done. He won’t be hurting anyone else.” Sullivan clapped him on the back. “You did good, MacLain. It was good working with you.”

Dane shook out his wrists. The skin was torn from his struggles with the zip ties, and he was still working out pins and needles. With everything that was going on right now, how was it possible that the only thing he wanted to do was run outside and find that dazzling, dark-eyed beauty who’d upended his life when he found her drowning in a creek?

Harper ran onto the balcony, frantic. “Elizabeth?”

Dane pulled Elizabeth within view. “She’s here. She’s safe.”

Harper fell on Elizabeth, crying. “Thank heaven. Oh, Elizabeth, I was so worried!”

“Harper.” Sullivan indicated the door. “I’m sorry, I know you’re upset, but this is a crime scene. You cannot be in here. You need to wait downstairs.”

Harper ignored him. “Elizabeth, I never should have brought you back to the house. It was only a book. We should have waited. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Harper—” Sullivan seemed conflicted. Dane knew he had feelings for his sister, but there was something else going on, too. He just couldn’t figure it out with his head cluttered with the night’s events. “Please. You have to leave. Any defense attorney worth his salt will use your presence here against our case somehow. I have to keep this crime scene clean.”

Harper’s red curls hung down her back, bouncing with her movements as she hugged Elizabeth like she’d never let her go. “We need ice cream, and chocolate, and
Pride and Prejudice
. The one with Keira Knightley.”

“I like the other one.” It was still a treat to hear Elizabeth speak, though it was hard to understand her while smooshed against Harper’s chest.

“Fine. You earned it. You were such a brave girl.” Harper’s tears burst out of her, and then she was sobbing. Dane took Elizabeth, fully intending to hold his sister and help her through this latest shitty event brought to them by Joe and the Whitman empire, but Harper surprised them all by turning toward Detective Sullivan, burying her face in his chest, and holding him like she’d never let him go. Sullivan didn’t hesitate; he held her, looking torn up inside, and…yeah, Dane recognized gratitude when he saw it. The detective was grateful. It made no sense, but he logged it with the other hundred things that made no sense in his life.

Sullivan caught Dane’s attention. “Elizabeth should be evaluated at the Elliot, and you should get your wrists looked at. We can debrief you on the way.”

Harper ripped herself out of Sullivan’s arms and hustled Elizabeth out of the room. Dane followed, thinking Sullivan wouldn’t be a bad thing for Harper. Her life was only beginning, and now that she’d finished her classes at Boston College, she’d want to start a life of her own. There’d be no more relying on his sister to help parent Elizabeth. Dane would be on his own. Alone. But his family was safe. Alice’s killer unmasked. And
he
was grateful.

His gaze wandered to the balcony’s railing and beyond, but his mind was in a black van driving hell-for-leather across town, somewhere. Marnie was out there. Alone? Or with Smith? He wondered if she felt as lonely as he did.

Chapter Twenty-One

One week later

Elizabeth MacLain was a fine pianist, like her mother. She’d stopped playing after Alice died, but since the incident at Whitman Enterprises, it was all she wanted to do. And she was good at it. Dane was happy to see she’d found an outlet. He’d hoped to keep the truth from her until she was older, maybe more able to handle that her mother had betrayed them all, that Uncle Joe was a killer, but she knew. She knew everything.

Elizabeth sat ramrod straight at the piano, her long ponytail hanging to her hip. It was hard to reconcile this image of her with the crazed person who’d run at him a week ago, bloody knife in hand. She’d hurt her captor, but only enough to get away. The policeman who went to save her was officially Dane’s favorite cop. He’d been there when Dane couldn’t be, and somehow, he’d repay that debt. Elizabeth was safe. They all were, and now life could begin again. It was a blessing he’d never take for granted, and he’d be forever grateful their story had a happy ending.

Swan Lake.
He loved that Elizabeth could play
Swan Lake
.

He stood next to her, seeing the same frown between her brows that he saw in the mirror each morning. She had a temper. He liked that. She had nightmares. He vowed to be around to help her through them this time, too.

He stepped to the window and pushed aside the drapes. Marnie was in his thoughts a lot. Most of the time, really. He’d been living here with Harper and Elizabeth, a guest, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Whatever it was, he and Elizabeth couldn’t stay here. This was Harper’s home now. She deserved a life separate from his drama.

A beat-up gold Jetta pulled up to the curb. He smiled.

He’d told Sullivan that Marnie Somerville would be found only if it was her idea, but that hadn’t stopped Dane from trying. He’d spent hours when Elizabeth was in school scouring the streets, tapping old haunts and snitches for leads as to where he could find her. He put out the word, even went to Smith’s house, only to find it abandoned. A clean slate. Nothing and no one Marnie had introduced to him existed anymore. He might have convinced himself the experience had been a trick of the mind if he hadn’t spent the last week watching the hickies on his neck fade. He missed her with a hunger that had his body vibrating and had him feeling more a shadow than a man.

“Elizabeth, honey.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She nodded, continuing to practice.

…

When Marnie saw him step onto the porch, she swore. She needed time to gather up courage. The house had a white picket fucking fence, for shit’s sake. Roses, even. Unbelievable. It was too much pressure.

He looked good. It made her self-conscious, licking her lips and wondering what she looked like. She hadn’t paid much attention to her appearance lately. She’d been too busy making sure Whitman couldn’t touch her people once he was locked behind bars. She wasn’t a fool. Prison for rich people was not the same thing as prison for regular folk. Whitman would have reach unless she stopped him.

She’d spent the last week cutting his power off at the knees, fulfilling her promise to herself. Now he’d never be able to hurt anyone again. Using the back door she’d created into his corporation’s servers, she was able to ferret out all his accounts, hidden and otherwise. Through a painstaking weeklong hack, she’d drained his accounts before the feds could freeze them. Then she’d bounced the money around a myriad of banks, splitting it up, bundling it back, and then siphoning it into the accounts of every mark Whitman had tapped while she was pulling a paycheck there. The money was untraceable. Her conscience was clear.

No regrets.

He stepped off the porch, walking her way. Marnie composed her face, defiantly refusing to wear her heart on her sleeve. When he was five feet from the passenger side door, she played with the idea of putting the Jetta into drive and flooring it. She’d retrieved her car a few days ago. It was in such a sorry state, no one had wanted to steal it, but after a tow and a little work, it was good to go.

Dane opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, closing the door after he settled. She’d hesitated too long. There was no running and keeping her pride. She didn’t have the courage to look at him, so she kept her eyes front.

“It’s about time,” he said. She hid her hands under her thighs to mask their trembling. “What took you so long?”

“I got your guns back from Pinhead. Whitman paid the tab, so you don’t owe anything. They’re in the trunk.” She glanced at him, and her gaze stuck. “You need to decide about Folsom.” The money had run out, and his keepers were looking for resolution. Whatever Dane decided, she’d arrange. She could tell from his manner that he understood.

“I’m not a killer. Let the justice system deal with him.”

Marnie was glad. Knowing Dane as she did, having Folsom’s murder on his conscience would destroy him, or rather, destroy the man she’d come to love.

Love. The whole concept was a problem for her. She figured she owed him an explanation.

“Where I come from,” she said, “people tell you they love you because they want something, or they’re afraid.”

Dane glance at the house, and she followed his line of sight. Elizabeth was staring at them through a black-shuttered window. Any minute now, Marnie expected Tom Sawyer to show up with a bucket of paint and a story to tell.

“Too true,” he said. “I want something from you, and I’m plenty afraid.” He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. He spoke against them, his breath tickling her skin. “I lost Alice. I almost lost Elizabeth.” He pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Marnie buried her face against his neck, loving the smell of him. “Wrong script.” She felt her tears on his skin. “I don’t belong in your world. I wouldn’t know how to act.” So like her mother. If the last two weeks had proved anything, it was that Marnie wasn’t the straight and narrow kind of gal. She thrived in the shadows, and Dane was a cop. An ex-cop, but a cop was always a cop. Now that his case was solved, he’d want back onto the force. Why was she even here? She should have sent him a damn email. “How is Elizabeth?”

“Healing. How are you?”

“Confused.”

“Confused is good.” He kissed her, but briefly, leaning back after, giving her a little space as if afraid of scaring her. “It means you’re human. I was beginning to wonder.”

“Why?” She honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

“You did the impossible, Marnie.” He kissed her temple, studying her bemused face. “You healed my heart, gave me my daughter back, saved my life countless times, and put my past to rest. You gave me back my life.”

“Oh.” Gratitude was nice. It wouldn’t snuggle up to her at night, but it was good.

He smiled. “You and me, we’re a thing.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “For keeps.” He kissed her lips. “Understand?”

No, she didn’t understand. Hadn’t he been listening? Dane indicated the house, and she peeked outside. Elizabeth was still watching them.

“I should go. I just came to say good-bye.” She buried her face against his shoulder, unable to hide how upset she was. She didn’t want to say good-bye.

“When you left before, I understood. You don’t like cops. But it’s only us here. Stay.”

She lifted her head and scowled at him. “Yeah. About that. The MPD? I can’t believe you pulled them into this.”

“I needed to clear my name.”

“I guess.” She laid her head on his chest again.

“It worked out.”

“Because of my mom. No thanks to that detective asshole—”

“Sullivan. His hands were tied. As soon as he heard the gunshot, he ordered the SWAT team inside. The warrants came through as they reached the top floor. Did you say
your mom
?”

She could see he thought he’d misheard her, but she didn’t have the energy to get into it. “A story for another day.”

“So there will be another day?”

“Shit.” Marnie wanted another day. “I should be so lucky.”

“You don’t believe in luck.” She felt his fingers on her chin. He forced her to meet his gaze. She hated that she was crying. “Build a life with me. I don’t want to do it without you. Elizabeth doesn’t want to do it without you.” Marnie sniffed. When had she turned into such a waterworks? “I need you.” He kissed her chin, tasting her tears. “I want you.” He was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen or heard. It made fresh tears well up. “I love you.”

“Stop.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do what you’re asking.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “You specialize in the impossible.”

He kissed her, holding her face so he could deepen it. Marnie loved the feel of him, his scent and strength. When he broke the kiss, she felt impatient for more.

“Stay with me, Marnie.”

She wanted to. “You don’t understand.”

“Do you trust me?”

Completely.

He must have seen the answer in her expression, because the tenseness around his lips faded and he smiled with his eyes. “It’s time to grow a set. Don’t let fear stop you from getting what you want. What we want.”

“My fear has kept me alive since I was five. I’ll keep my fear, thank you very much.”

“Alive, but not living. We deserve to be happy.”

She saw Dane take the keys out of the ignition and didn’t panic until she realized it meant she couldn’t run now. He was watching her closely, wondering what she was going to do. Marnie wasn’t stupid. They were having a conversation, and Dane taking the keys was his question. Was she going or staying? She knew what his vote was and appreciated his insistence on a straight answer. She’d expect no less from a hero.

Marnie wanted him, loved him, and wanted what a life with him would represent. She just didn’t see how it could work. They were too different. It would take a leap of faith to take his hand and walk toward some fantastical happy ever after.

She glanced out the car’s window and saw Elizabeth’s curious gaze looking back. Still sitting at the piano. Still wearing her heart on her sleeve. Marnie would be lying if she said she didn’t want Elizabeth in her life. And she’d be lying if she pretended she didn’t want a house with a fucking picket fence. It would be risky, putting her heart in Dane’s care, hoping they’d find a way to make a life together, but if he was right, if they could find a way to be happy together, it would be worth it. Her gut said she was old enough to know better.

“I reserve the right to leave you at any time, at any moment, for any reason,” she said.

Dane tilted his head to the side. “And I reserve the right to bring you back.”

Her heart clenched, and her body trembled. If those were the terms, she didn’t see a downside. “Deal.” She’d risk her heart. It’s not like she had any other use for it. It belonged to Dane and always would.

He smiled. Marnie cried, and smiled, and then she laughed. “Damn,” she said, covering her mouth. “This is embarrassing.”

He pulled her across his lap. “Just so we’re clear,” he said. “You just agreed to marry me.”

Still trembling, she nodded, swallowing hard over the words that had to be said. “I don’t deserve you, Dane. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You wouldn’t want me around Elizabeth if you knew.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” she said. “I love you.” Marnie hugged him around the neck, shaking with happiness and relief.

“Then we’ll do fine.”

Marnie saw Elizabeth smiling from the living room window, and Harper peeking through the drapes, grinning. It felt as if all this happiness was happening to someone else, because it couldn’t be for her. Right? Then Dane kissed her, and all her questions melted away. They loved each other.

If someone, herself included, had a problem with that, they could kiss her ass.

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