Somehow, throughout my struggle and rescue, everything seemed to be normal. Well, at least kidnapping-and-rescue normal, so far as I knew it. Someone got shot (again) but the good news was, this time, it was a bad guy and this time there was no tear gas. I hadn’t worn any makeup that day so I wasn’t in fear of mascara smears but still, tear gas sucked.
Now, the atmosphere of the room was anything but normal.
“Gino?” Wilcox whispered.
The way he said it made me slide to the side to have a look at him and I saw he was looking at Darius.
Darius didn’t answer.
Instead, Darius grinned.
Somewhere along the line, the tables had turned. Now it was Darius who had a secret.
Wilcox surged to his feet, wrists behind his back, body tense.
“What do you mean, Gino’s clean up?” Wilcox screamed and I jumped back. His voice was hoarse and so terrified, I almost felt sorry for him. Bad Guy Number One had quit writhing and was lying, motionless and staring at Darius. Bad Guy Number Two had dropped his head, eyes to the floor, looking defeated.
Yikes.
What on earth was going on?
Who was Gino?
And where the f**k was Lee?
Eddie raised his gun and pointed it at Wilcox. “Sit down.”
Wilcox hesitated and Eddie’s body moved imperceptibly. Eddie had been relaxed, cool, in control. In a blink of an eye, he was tense, hostile and his eyes were glittering.
“Sit… the f**k… down,” Eddie commanded, slowly and seriously pissed off and I got the impression that it was not only Wilcox who was pissing him off but also something else.
Even crazy Wilcox sat at the tone of Eddie’s voice. Wilcox wasn’t calm anymore, he was scared out of what was left of his ever-lovin’ mind.
“For God’s sake, will someone tell me, where, in the hell, is Lee?” I finally asked.
“Here.”
My eyes swung to a door behind Darius.
Lee was standing there.
He stood tall and straight, no blood, no bruises, nothing to indicate he’d seen any escalation of hostilities. In fact, he looked great in a white long-sleeved, torso-hugging tee, jeans, black belt and his motorcycle boots, like he’d just jumped off the Ducati after taking a joy ride.
I wanted to run to him, throw my arms around him, do a lot of girlie, oh-my-god-I’m-glad-you’re-all-right and oh-my-god-I’m-glad-I’m-all-right stuff but his body language was not inviting that. This was badass Lee and hugs and cuddles were obviously not acceptable at this juncture. Therefore I kept my distance.
He looked at me and did his second body scan of the day, this time, a muscle leaping in his jaw.
“What happened?” he asked, eyes on Eddie.
Eddie walked to Lee and handed him his gun. Lee took it and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans while I stared. That wasn’t Eddie’s service pistol, it was a loaner. Eddie wasn’t here in any official capacity. Any bullet that Eddie put in another human being wasn’t going to be traced back to a weapon the police department had given him.
Holy shit.
“Brody tell you the story?” Eddie asked and Lee shook his head.
“He told me where to find you,” Lee answered.
Darius and Eddie looked at each other.