G-Men: The Series (138 page)

This can’t possibly be a good thing.

^{chapter 55}

Something was definitely going on outside. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been in this hell hole. All I knew was that I couldn’t feel my left side anymore. It was the side my weight was resting on against the cold, dirty concrete. The rats weren’t even all that shy in this building, now that it had started to get dark outside.
Which was just awesome
, said no one…ever.

Lindsey’s father had returned with a satchel and a newly purchased pre-paid phone. He’d been on it most of the time, arranging for a drop somewhere tonight at ten-thirty to pick up the weapons. God only
knew
what kind of weapons he was dealing in. Lindsey had come over and put her jacket under my head for comfort, sitting beside me, instead of in the chair she’d been provided.

‘Geez-Louise’ continually watched us, making sure we both saw the Glock being held steady in her hand. I had no doubt in my mind that she would use it just as easily on Lindsey as she would on me. There had to be something in this for her, and I doubted it had anything to do with loving her son.

A thunder storm was rolling in—yeah, I know. Just what I needed to make this horror story perfect, right?

Lindsey was patting my arm every time the crack of thunder sounded outside and I jumped. As much as anyone who’s been hog-tied can jump, that is. She was trying to soothe me, when in reality, I truly believe she was more frightened than me. She didn’t know just how far her father would go to save his own ruthless hide.

Jack Dennison’s current call was cut short when the blaring sounds of sirens could be heard over the thunder and rain pelting against the building, screeching to a halt outside. When, soon after, the sound of a helicopter could be heard overhead, it sealed the deal as far as I was concerned.

Yes! The cavalry is here!

I saw a look of relief flood over Lindsey’s face. It was short-lived however.

“Lindsey,” her father bellowed. “Come here. Now!”

She scrambled to her feet and approached her father tentatively. It was almost as if she wasn’t sure whether she was walking into a death trap, or into her father’s arms for comfort. He bent down, wrapping his arms around her. And, for a second, I actually thought he was trying to comfort her before he had the good sense to blow his own brains out. He motioned for Louise to give him the gun, and to follow him.

He pulled Lindsey in front of him like a fucking human shield, his own mother falling behind him to serve the same purpose as they left me there on that, cold, dirty cement floor to kick at the rats who seemed to get braver by the second. He was going to try and escape. What a stupid fuck!

By now, it was difficult to distinguish the flashes of lightning from the headlights and spotlights directed on the building. I heard the van start up, most likely Lindsey was forced to drive it out of there, while Jack and Louise cowered in the back like the cowards they were. I could see the light from the street as the door opened and the van pulled out and then nothing. It was relatively quiet for several seconds until I heard the loud sounds of ‘Pop! Pop! Pop!’

Oh my God…Lindsey!

I was cold, tired, dehydrated, and hungry; yet tears still formed in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I could even hear my own muffled sobs from beneath the scarf that was tied tightly over my mouth and seemed to get tighter by the second. I didn’t need to hold my sobs back. There was no one here to see me break this time. The rats didn’t care. So I let loose, but I couldn’t really and totally let loose because the fucking scarf was muffling everything that I wanted to let out: the anger, the rage, the total fucked-upness of how a father could do what Jack Dennison had done. It was unfathomable to me.

Maybe my pregnancy hormones were making me feel things more deeply and more personally then I ever had before. Maybe it was the fact that, when I’d first felt that fluttering within my gut, I had insta-loved this little tad-pole inside of me that I’d named “Junior.” At five months pregnant, I already loved him or her. My God! Jack Dennison had 19 years with Lindsey before he split. What the fuck?

My musings were interrupted as I heard footsteps coming down the metal stairwell that led to the floor above this one.

Oh God—what now?

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would make the sound go away. I willed my ears to not hear what was approaching. Then, I opened my eyes. What could be any worse than what I’d been through? Having a homicidal vagrant come through the door would beat laying here and getting chewed on by rats. Darcy Nicole Sheridan was made of tougher stuff than this.

As my eyes, once again, adjusted to the darkness settling in, with only the occasional flash of lightning to illuminate my surroundings, I heard the sound of the footsteps on the concrete getting closer and closer.

And then I saw them. Bruno Magli Micolino braided-strap loafers in black. And as they got closer, I knew that everything was going to be alright. Who else would be wearing black Italian leather in a shit-hole like this?

Easton…

I felt his hands on me, untying my binds, talking to me in his very soothing voice, telling me that he loved me, that I was going to be fine and not to worry, and I knew that it was true. I didn’t say a word, even when he removed the scarf that had been tied around me. I simply crawled up into his lap as he rested on his haunches just inches from me, and tucked my face into his broad chest, not wanting to look at anything right now. I was just listening for the sound of his steady heartbeat. There it was.

“I lied,” I whispered against him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, lifting me up and carrying me towards the door.

“It matters, Easton. I love you. I never stopped.”

“I know,” he replied, his arms tightening around me. “I know, baby.”

I felt the cold chill of the wet, night air hit my face as he carried me outside. The rain had diminished to a slow drizzle. The flashing lights were everywhere and as I gazed about, I could see that New York’s finest were perched all around the building, along with FBI swat team members dressed liked ninjas in black, with knit ski-mask type head coverings on, and an arsenal of semi-automatic weapons aimed to fire. They were on top of buildings as far as I could see down the street, the reflective lettering “F B I” visible on the back of their field jackets.

I pulled the collar of Easton’s trench coat up to my eyes, as if to shield them from seeing whatever it was that was about to go down.

“Easton,” I said, my voice cracking. “Where’s Lindsey? I heard gun shots a little while ago.” Before he could answer, I saw the van they’d left in sitting cock-eyed on the sidewalk a half-block down. The tires had been blown out and the panel door was ajar, but no one was around it.

“She’ll be fine, love. They’re seeing about getting her back right now safe and sound. Don’t worry.”

“Stop!” I cried out, now struggling to get released from his arms.”I need to wait for Lindsey. I have to know that she’s safe. Where is she?” The shock I’d been in was wearing off enough to allow the panic to now seep in.

He lowered me to my feet in front of him, keeping his arms around me as he nodded to the park across the street that seemed to be surrounded on the ground and on rooftops with agents that looked more like terrorist snipers than law enforcement. I could see that they were keeping in contact by wireless radio.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said cautiously. “Her father has her in the park with him. He’s trying to use her to protect himself—the bloody bastard,” he snapped. “I don’t want you to worry, love. She won’t be harmed, I promise you. They know what they’re doing out there.”

“And her grandmother?” I asked.

His furrowed brow told me he hadn’t a clue as to whom I was talking about. Hopefully, the old bitch had caught a stray bullet.

I could tell something across the street had just heated up. I could feel the tension rise. Easton felt it too as he pulled me into an alcove doorway on the side of the building facing the park across the street, shielding me with his own body. From the rooftop of the building directly across from us, I could see the red glare of the infrared night scope atop a weapon as it searched for a target. It then stopped and held position. A second later I heard a shot ring out. Only one. But I knew it had met its mark when seconds later I heard the blood-curdling scream of my best friend coming from a cluster of trees fifty yards away in the darkness of the park. Her plaintive wail seemed to go on and on.

I started to push away from Easton, so that I could go to her, but he immediately pulled me back, encasing me tightly within his arms. “She’s okay, love. They got him, not her. She’s fine.”

“She’s not fine, Easton,” I persisted. “Don’t you understand? That was her
father
and she loved him…no matter what! She
loved
him. I need to go to her!” I was on the verge of hysterics.

“No,” he said, firmly, drawing me back closer, lowering his lips to my ear. “That’s Taz’s job, baby. Not yours,” he continued, nodding his head toward the park.

Oh Friggin’ Hell…God, please don’t let Taz be the one that took the son-of-a-bitch down!

I looked across the street to the building where the sharpshooter had been positioned and watched as he hoisted himself down to ground level, dropping to the pavement from the fire escape. There were two agents in FBI jackets waiting for him. Another had taken off in a fast sprint in the direction of Lindsey with several NYC police officers on his flank.

The sniper-agent turned his weapon over to one of the others, and then pulled his ski mask cap off, revealing his seriously handsome face.

Thank God! It’s Slate…

I looked back across to the park, seeing the white reflective letters of “F B I” on the back of the jacket of the agent that had taken off like a rocket once the single bullet had met its mark.
That
had been
Taz
, thank God! Lindsey’s Taz—and he’d be grabbing up his baby girl any sec, letting her know that she was safe and loved, and that he was taking her home.

I looked up at Easton, who still had his arms wrapped around me, using his body as a shield of protection for me, even though the threat of danger had been eliminated. “Can we go home, Easton?”

“Yes, love. We’re going home. That’s why I’m here, baby—to take you home.”

^{chapter 56}

I awoke the following morning, still ensconced in the warm cocoon Easton had made for me with his body. He’d taken me to his loft and carefully bathed me from head to toe, washing my hair of the filth that had accumulated during the hours spent as the late Jack Dennison’s hostage. He’d given me one of his long-sleeved shirts to wear, and a clean pair of his boxers.

We hadn’t talked a lot last night. Easton had insisted I get my rest and had molded his body against mine perfectly, where we’d fallen asleep together and remained that way until now. I snuggled into him with my backside, eager for him to be awake with me.

“Morning, love,” I heard him whisper against the back of my neck. “Sleep well?”

“Umm,” I said with a sigh nodding, “Better than I have in a long, long time. You?”

I felt his smile. “No complaints…though I’m a bit puzzled about something,” he said, his hands now gently massaging my small baby bump.

It’s time, Darce.

“What’s that?” I asked, innocently, holding my breath.

“You seem to have a bit…
more…
here, love,” he whispered against my neck. “Of course, I’ve nothing against full-figured women, but during the night it seemed to me as if…well, for lack of a better word, my hand
felt
some vibration as it rested against your abdomen.”

Oh God…

“Easton,” I said, slowly, glad that I wasn’t facing him at the moment. “I’m pregnant. It must’ve happened the night of the storm…when we were…together at your estate.”

“I see,” he replied, his tone giving me no indication as to how he was taking the news.