What I Fight For: A Bad Boy Military Romance (Easy Team Book 1) (39 page)

              Marco tipped my chin up and took my lips roughly. “You are an idiot,” he breathed against my lips. “A goddamn idiot.” But before I could respond, he took my lips again, crushing me. His powerful tongue forced his way into my mouth, tasting me, owning me.              

              In the foggy haze of shock and love and arousal, I heard a tiny
click
echo through the air.

              And before I could take another breath, Marco threw me to the side, stepped in front of me and fired three shots with frightening accuracy.

              The gun flopped from Roy’s dead hand. I looked over my shoulder and saw him now crumpled on his side. It looked like my bullet had hit him near his collarbone. His entire shirtfront was soaked maroon.

              It hadn’t been enough to take him out though. I’m sure a lot of that fat helped protect him as well. He had reached for his gun but Marco had been faster. Two shots to the chest and one to the head, perfectly shot between his eyes.

              Lowering his gun slowly, Marco paused, waiting to make sure that was the end of Roy Desmond. I was sure no one could survive a bullet directly to the head like that.

              After a few seconds, Marco quickly walked forward. With dispassionate ease, he flipped open Roy’s blood soaked jacket and reached into his pant pocket. He pulled out the cell phone that he had taunted him with. Throwing it on the ground, Marco stepped on it, crushing it instantly.

              Too much in a daze and feeling like I was in a dream, I loosely felt Marco’s arms around me as he helped me to my feet and out towards his car. He opened my door and settled me into my seat before climbing into his own.

              Just as he started the car and began driving away, the reality of the situation hit me.

              “Where are we going?” I asked, looking over at him. His hand gripped the wheel confidently and he drove with a purpose.

              He looked over at me, those black eyes dark with love and passion.

              “I owe my life to you,” he said.

              How many countless times had he saved me before? “Consider a debt repaid,” I said shyly, some feeling returning to my lips.

              Marco lips curled into a smile that made my entire body warm up. The shaking slowly eased.

              “Where are we going?” I asked again. Where
could
we go? We had just killed the head of the Desmond Family. The FBI would know who did it. We would be hunted by both sides.

              Marco reached out and wrapped his hand around my own smaller and colder one.

              “Halle,” he said, “I have a place. I have a plan. We’re going far away and we’ll probably never come back here.” He paused before looking over at me. “Will you come with me?”

              My heart beat with the joy of love and relief. “Always,” I said softly. “Always and forever.”

Chapter
Twenty Seven
FBI Los Angeles Headquarters

              Captain Martin Hamish threw down the file on his desk in disgust. From under his bushy blonde brows, he glared at the two agents who sat sheepishly in front of him.

              “Well, congratulations, boys,” he said sarcastically in a loud, broad Boston accent. “You done fucked it up real good this time!”

              Agent Hadfield and Agent Truman winced at their Captain’s loud reprimand.

              “To think how you two came at me with a plan that was ‘planned out to the minute’ and ‘worth the gamble for the gain,’” Captain Hamish said, his voice dripping with disparagement. “You two dimwits aren’t even worth half an agent!”

              Though the Captain wasn’t a particularly tall man, he seemed gargantuan as he stood behind his desk staring down his two agents.

              “We did get the Juarez Family,” Agent Truman offered. “And the publicity of Roy Desmond’s death has already brought in great support to the FBI—”

              “Oh? Has it?” Captain Hamish interrupted. “Because I think all that warm and fuzzy support lasted all of ten minutes in the news cycle once they realized that Roy Desmond’s death was a freakish and isolated incident that also coincided with the only heir apparent to the Desmond Mafia going missing!” He banged his fist hard on the table, making nearly everything on it shake and rattle.

              “I just finished watching a piece on speculation of how the Desmond Family will fracture and what that will mean for the safety of America,” Captain Hamish said, his voice lowering into a more ominous tone. “They were right in saying that the fracturing of such a large empire could become a disastrous mess as thugs fight for territory and space and create smaller networks and clans. To quote the lovely reporter, ‘This could possibly be the birth of a new crime wave.’”

              The Captain’s face turned red as he shouted, “Now tell me again how there’s great fucking support for the FBI!”

              Agent Truman winced and Agent Hadfield lowered his head.

              “This has got to be one of the biggest fuck ups that has happened under my command,” Captain Hamish said, almost to himself. He shook his head, clearly overwhelmed by the situation. “How could you have let it fall apart so badly?”

              “Sir, we hadn’t anticipated Roy Desmond’s killing,” Agent Hadfield argued. “Especially not by Marco Desmond, who we suspect did it.”

              “Of course no one expected it!” Captain Hamish exploded. “Who would’ve expected Roy and Marco Desmond to be dueling out in the middle of the goddamn California desert?”

              Agent Truman coughed to cover up his partner’s blunder. Agent Hadfield turned away, eyes darting nervously around. It was difficult not to keep blurting out ridiculous statements when they were so nervous.

              “So Marco Desmond is now missing. And it looks like it’s now been over,” Captain Hamish checked a file, “five days. So I’m going to say that that man is as good as gone from this country and our jurisdiction now.”

              Captain Hamish flipped through the file’s innards. He pointed a name. “And this agent you had recruited for the mission, Agent Halle Margot. Apparently she’s gone missing as well.”

              He raised a brow at the two men in front of him.

              “We, uh,” Agent Truman coughed. “We think that she is probably with Desmond.”

              “Oh you think? Of course she’s with Desmond, you fucktard,” Captain Hamish said almost with no rancor. He seemed too exhausted to yell anymore at his incompetent agents. He was being swamped left and right from calls from all the way up to the federal government and all the way down to trashy gossip news sites.

              Agent Hadfield leaned a bit. “We could contact Interpol,” he offered helpfully. “They would probably want to keep an eye on someone like Marco Desmond.”

              “Who do you think I called immediately once Desmond was found missing?” Captain Hamish snapped. “There’s been some whispers about Desmond being seen in Europe but nobody has been able to confirm it. If he is there, clearly he isn’t causing a big ruckus over there and is staying low.”

              “Instead of bringing me the Desmond Family like you had promised,” Captain Hamish started, “you have created what will probably be a new era of unprecedented gang violence.” He sighed. “The Desmond empire was huge. I cringe to think of just how many territories and clans will be breaking off from there, now that there is no leader to hold them together.”

              Agent Truman and Hadfield exchanged looks. They knew they’d be getting a railing from the Captain. They had fucked up royally. They had never dreamed Marco would end up killing Roy. All night, they had been on standby for the call. And when it never came, they knew something had gone wrong.

              But at least so far, they were only being condemned for their ineptitude. With Roy dead and Marco and Halle missing, it looked like no one would be around to accuse them of treason and bribery. The men rested easy knowing at least their jobs would be safe.

              Captain Hamish fell back into his chair. He leaned his head against his hand as he rubbed his temple. “What a fucking shitshow,” he muttered.

              Agent Truman leaned back a little in his seat, a little more relaxed now that it seemed like his Captain had screamed himself out.

              “Well,” he said, “Desmond will have to watch his back. I’m sure there are a lot of people out to get the only heir of the Desmond Mafia. And now that he has a girl, she’s a target as well.”

              For the first time since the two agents had entered his office, Captain Hamish cracked a dry smile. His lips twitched as he looked over at Agent Truman. “You think the best mob hitman for nearly the last decade is going to be worried about being a target?” he asked, his words slow and sardonic. Agent Truman’s cheeks flushed a little at the Captain’s tone.

              “And as for the girl,” Captain Hamish said, “she’s under Desmond’s protection. She’s probably safer and more protected than the Queen of England.”

                There was a lull of silence as each man contemplated what the next few weeks will entail for them.

              Captain Hamish sighed as he sat up in his chair and nodded at the two men. “Alright then,” he said in dismissal. “Go down and get—”

              There was a quick rap at the door before a bobbed hair secretary peeked through. “Sir?”

              “Yes?” Captain Hamish answered.

              “This package has arrived for you.” She held up a large sealed manila mailer. “It’s a bit unusual with no sender information. But it’s been through forensics and its been called safe.”

              Captain Hamish took the package from his secretary with furrowed brows, confused. He looked at the front. There was no return address. It was simply addressed to his office with the top left corner marked, “MDHM.”

              “What’s in it?” he asked. If it had been through forensics, they would’ve seen all the contents.

              The secretary pulled out a notepad and read off the contents. “There’s a small thumb drive and several files. The files seem to hold paperwork varying from email transcripts to account sheets. They seem related to the Desmond case. There are also transcripts of conversations between Roy Desmond and two unknown operatives who might’ve played a role in Roy Desmond’s ultimate death.”

              Captain Hamish, busily opening the package, nodded in dismissal to his secretary.

              Neither the secretary nor the Captain noticed the sudden paleness and sweat that enveloped Agent Hadfield and Agent Truman.

Chapter
Twenty Eight
Halle

              “I dunno,” I said warily, leaning away from the table. “That smells like feet.”

              Jamie laughed as he pushed the cheese laden cracker even closer. “It’s a delicacy! The French take great pride in their cheeses. It’d be offensive not to try some.”

              “Why can’t I try the ones that smell less like wet gym socks?” I said, wrinkling my nose.

              Jamie snorted and cracked up, dropping the cracker onto the table. Several glasses of beautifully maroon glasses appeared before us as Marco returned to the table. After Jamie had insisted on a cheese platter, Marco had gotten up to get the perfect wine for us.

              “I gotta say, big bro,” Jamie said, turning over to his older brother in a look of absolute adoration and glee. “Your new lady friend doesn’t have too adventurous of a palate.”

              Marco gave his brother an amused look as he reached over and tussled his hair. “I don’t think many people would enjoy mushroom cheese, kid. Let’s just say, you’re a little special.”

              “
That’s
what that is? Mushroom cheese?” I cried out in surprise. No wonder it had smelled to high heavens. I loved mushrooms and I loved cheese but paired together and they were pungent enough to be considered chemical warfare.

              Jamie cracked up again.

              His laughter elicited a few curious stares from passerbys. We were sitting outside a gorgeous café in the 18 arrondissement of Paris near Montmartre. As someone who had never even visited Canada, seeing the City of Lights for the first time ever was breathtaking. It was exactly how I had imagined it and so much more.

              And of course, being in such a beautiful and romantic place, it was made all the more beautiful and romantic by having Marco with me.

              I stared across the small table at the daring and brave man.

              Next to his brother, they looked like polar opposites. Marco was dark in coloring with a leanness that looked to be made of pure muscle. He oozed virility and strength. Jamie was fairer with wispy blonde hair and light blue eyes. He was more delicate in form since he was confined to a wheelchair. We had had to choose an outdoor table so that there would be enough space to accommodate Jamie’s chair.

              But there was no moroseness in Jamie. He didn’t lament or mourn his situation. In fact, he was full of laughter and jokes. I could tell right away he was someone who tried to make the best of every situation. No wonder Marco was so protective over him. I had only known him for a few days and already I was feeling quite protective over him.

              The one thing the brothers did share was that same mischievous glint in their eyes. It was the same glint I saw in Jamie’s eyes when he was about to pull a prank and in Marco’s eyes when he was about to pull me in for a kiss.

              There was no way someone like Jamie could’ve survived the Desmond Mafia. And thank god, he hadn’t had to. It pained me to think of losing someone as bright and warm as Jamie.

              The Desmond Mafia.

              Even saying it now, it all felt like some kind of crazy surreal dream. To even think it seemed preposterous. I was now technically on the run and living a new life in Europe with the former heir to the Desmond Mafia.

              I shook my head, snorting a little.

             
So crazy.

              But it was true.

              After the hangar, Marco had driven like a racecar driver towards a private airfield while simultaneously speaking with them on the phone, giving them their orders to input a flight plan.

              “It’s a plan I’ve had in place for awhile,” Marco had said as we drove down the runway of an empty airfield. “I just didn’t think I would be executing it like this.” He quickly threw the car into a parking spot and then grabbed my hand. He kissed my knuckles, brushing his lips over my sensitive skin. “But I’m glad. I’m glad that I have you with me.”

              We had quickly been ushered onto the private plane and before I had buckled in, we were airborne. Exhausted from the events of the night and the tension I had been under for the last two days, I had immediately fallen asleep. I had felt Marco pulling a blanket over me, kissing my forehead gently.

              And when I had woken up, we were magically in Germany.

              “Germany?!” I croaked, my voice still raspy with sleep.

              “Germany,” Marco confirmed, guiding me down the steps of the plane. “There’s a few stops we need to make and then I promise you, we’ll have a nice long rest. Can you keep up with me, sweetheart?”

              I looked up into those rich dark eyes. I was jetlagged, disoriented, and wearing old clothes. But I felt completely positive about where I was going. “Of course,” I answered just in time before his lips fell upon mine.

              Our stops consisted of visiting the German plants I had seen on file. Erlösung Manufacturing. The foreman of the plants greeted Marco warmly and ushered us into his office where he gave us a complete rundown on their profitability and forecast.

              Or at least, I thought that’s what he was saying. He spoke only German.

              With how disoriented I was, I nearly fell out of my seat when Marco replied in fluent German, nodding along with the foreman’s assessments.

              I couldn’t believe it. The notorious mob hitman was fluent in German? Well, color me surprised.

              After re-establishing Marco’s ownership in the business, we went directly to a “friend.” At least that was how Marco phrased him, quotation marks included. It clear this a friend who was only around when necessity called for him.

              We found him in a small apartment building near a string of factories. He was living and working out of an impromptu loft, meaning it looked like several of the conjoining abandoned apartments had had their walls knocked in, creating one giant loft.

              That was where we found Zeke.

              Zeke knew computers. That was all he told me.

              “I do computers, yeah? I help with computers and things,” he said vaguely with a faint German accent. Tall and skinny with a thin moustache and large glasses, he looked like a mouse on toothpick legs. He was constantly moving around, unable to stand still for one minute.

              I looked over at Marco in confusion. What could we possibly need from Zeke?

              Marco handed the mousy man a piece of paper. “Get me in there,” he said.

              Zeke looked at the paper and nodded, his eyes brightening at the challenge.

              Quickly he zoomed towards one of his many computers. The whole loft was filled with computers in different stages of disassemblement. There were some with flickering screens and some with cracked screens. There were a few playing movies and TV shows. In fact, one of the computers in the far corner was playing Cinderella dubbed in Spanish.

              But Zeke was only focused on the computer he was currently using in the kitchen. For the first time since I had met him, he was standing still, completely focused in on what he was doing.

              Marco and I stood in silence for about fifteen minutes as he worked. I still wasn’t quite sure what we were trying to do here.

              “Okay!” Zeke said abruptly and loudly, making me jerk back in surprise. “Know which account?”

              Marco put a hand on my lower back and guided me towards the computer. “Do you remember where the funds for Erlösung were? We need to get them out now before the FBI cease everything.”

              I looked at the computer screen and realized we were looking at the inner gates of the Desmond empire’s funds. The same screens I had been looking at from within the Desmond compound was now here in Zeke’s dilapidated loft.

              He was a hacker.

              And he had hacked his way into the accounts for us. And as someone who had spent weeks and weeks studying these accounts, I knew exactly where to look. I reached over and clicked and pulled out a few files. I typed in access codes that I had memorized and opened more accounts. I made sure to grab every single last piece that belonged to Marco. He had poured his literal blood, sweat, and tears into this and I was going to make sure he got every last cent.

              “There,” I finally. “That should be all of it.”

              Zeke stared at me through his large coke bottle glasses. “She’s good, yeah?” he said, nodding at Marco.

              A slow grin took over Marco’s face as relief, happiness, and love lit his eyes. He was free of the Desmond Family. He had finally made it.

              “She’s good,” he echoed back.

              I looked up at Marco. “I could do more. I know where a lot of the more obscure funds are. I could grab those as well. They’ll be harder to notice when missing.”

              Marco shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve purposely made sure to limit my holdings to the bare minimum. The less I have at stake in the Family, the less I can be charged with or held responsible for.” He looked down at me and grinned. “Not that I have any plans on getting myself caught and charged, of course. But you can never be too safe.”

              So that was why Roy had wanted me to change over some of the holdings into Marco’s name! He had wanted Marco to have the second highest holdings within the Desmond Mafia so that when he took the fall, he could almost be considered and charged as someone equivalent to the head of the Family. That would take off a huge amount of heat off of Roy’s back.

              Yet again, another example of Roy Desmond’s fine parenting skills.

              Thank god the man was dead.

              Finally, having funds properly reallocated back to him and confirming his plants were good and steady, Marco bade Zeke farewell and sgrabbed me and two fake passports and flew us to France.

              “How long have you had all this planned out?” I asked.

              It was incredible how much detail he had put into everything. He had literally thought of every contingency. Sure, we had had to keep a low profile since we didn’t know if Interpol had been alerted yet but because of Marco’s planning, we were still relatively comfortable.

              “For awhile,” he said. I had noticed a change in him. He was slowly starting to believe that his moment of freedom had finally come. And I knew that for him, just like it was for me, it was all the sweeter because we had each other.

              Then in France, we had met Jamie who was on holiday from school.

              And for the next few days, I had what could only be described as the most magical week in Paris. I felt like for the first time in a long time, I was part of a family again. We visited the sights and ate the incredible food. Jamie teased and joked while Marco sighed and pretended to be tired of his brother’s antics.

              I lifted my wine glass, trying to hide my yawn beneath it. But it fooled no one.

              “Looks like Halle’s ready for bed,” Jamie said, nudging Marco.

              I smiled sleepily. “I guess I am. All the wine and cheese, I guess,” I said wrinkling my nose at him again.

              Jamie laughed. “Hey if you’re tired, you can take a seat here and I’ll push!”

              Jamie’s blue eyes twinkled with good humor.