Hunting (4 page)

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Young. Impulsive,
reckless, idealistic. Pampered. Spoiled. Dark eyes that get them
whatever they want. Until it gets them hurt or killed.” Mick
slammed his bottle on the counter as he glared at the dark-eyed
girl dancing around the kitchen, laughing with his sister. Malachi
watched his dad ruffle Paige’s dark hair. Watched her throw her
arms around him and give him a hug. His father blushed, his mother
laughed.

He pondered his brother’s
words a moment...dark eyes? “You’ve lost  someone, haven’t
you, Mick?”

His brother’s eyes flashed,
eyes the same color as Malachi’s. “None of your damned business,
Mal. It’s not open for discussion.”

“
Anytime it is...” Malachi
watched as his brother stormed into the kitchen. Grabbed the
obviously heavy trash from Paige’s hands and shouldered open the
outside door. The kitchen’s occupants paused a moment, watching
him, as well.

Mick’s behavior confirmed
Malachi’s suspicion. Paige reminded his brother of someone—someone
he’d cared a great deal for. Someone he’d lost. And Mick was taking
his grief out on Paige. Unfairly. Mal would have to make sure the
situation didn’t get out of hand—for either Paige or
Mick.

In the meantime—that bag of
trash Julia held did look somewhat heavy. He walked into the
kitchen with purpose.

Jules wasn’t leaving until
the last of the kitchen was spotless. She’d enjoyed spending the
time with Alessandra’s parents and had probably stayed a little too
late. She was exhausted and her whole body ached. Still, it had
been nice to see how a family interacted. Meredith and Kenneth
Brockman were the kind of parents every child from a dysfunctional
family dreamed about. Al and her brothers were very
lucky.

Julia’s mother and
step-father had drunk themselves into oblivion every night until
they’d died in a drunken accident around Julia’s twentieth
birthday. Not exactly Norman Rockwell. Not like the Brockmans,
though Julia’s family had actually been more well-to-do than the
Brockmans.

Julia, Paige, and them—Mick
and Malachi—shooed the elder couple out the door. They’d worked
hard enough pulling the party together; they didn’t need to worry
about the cleanup, too.

After they left with Al
driving them home, Jules, Paige, and the two brothers worked
diligently returning Malachi and Al’s home back into the spacious
open floor living area it was intended to be. Jules took down the
decoration with silent help from the giant Mikhail. Paige and
Malachi collected all the trash scattered throughout the house.
Even though the house was huge by most standards—huge and open,
airy—it’s first level wasn’t designed to hold over two hundred
people comfortably. But it had. And it was left to four people to
clean up the results.

If Malachi Brockman and his
brother weren’t there, Julia wouldn’t have minded at all. But they
did come in handy for heavy lifting.

Soon it was all finished;
the only thing left to do was carrying out the remaining trash
bags. Paige and Julia agreed the brothers could handle that little
chore, and Jules gathered her things. Paige would be staying the
night. She lived clear across town, in a small basement apartment
that was currently being repaired. It had been damaged by fire two
days ago, and Paige would be staying with Al and Malachi until the
repairs were finished.

Paige disappeared, but
Jules knew she’d most likely found her bed. Paige ran on an odd
metabolic clock. She could stay up for days at a time and be fine,
but once she hit bottom, she slept hard. Jules worried about her
friend. Paige’s nightmares would catch up to her one
day.

Her sigh was long as she
threw her backpack over her shoulder. Thankfully, Jules didn’t live
too far away. Twenty-five minutes and she’d be home in her own
bed.

* * *

Malachi knew when she was
ready to leave, and he met her by the back door. “Ready to go,
Julia? You’re more than welcome to stay here. We still have a bed
free.”

“
What about Paige?” Her
words were low, exhausted, and suspicious. Malachi fought a soft
smile. He resisted the urge to torment her somehow—she was
obviously too tired for a good sparring match. In fact, she looked
more than tired, she looked almost wan.

“
Crashed on the porch.
Hammock.”

“
It’s thirty degrees
outside! And snowing!”

“
It’s enclosed and there’s
a small heater out there. She’ll be fine. She’s done it before. She
likes sleeping outside.” Probably a remnant of sleeping in alleys
and on park benches. It made him frown. Maybe it wasn’t a good
thing. He’d have to give it more thought. Later.

“
No. I’m going home.” She
shook her head. “Don’t leave her out there. It’s too cold for her
to lie out there.”

“
Honestly—I think she did
it deliberately. Put some space between her and Mikhail. He makes
her nervous.”

“
That’s because he’s a
jackass. I think it’s a trait his brother shares.” Her dig was said
around a yawn so it lacked impact. Malachi grabbed her arm and
shook it chidingly.

“
That’s not nice, Dr.
Bellows. I’m a perfect gentleman. My brother’s the same. That’s the
way our mother raised us.”

Julia snorted, then
sniffled. “Your mother may be a remarkable woman—and I do mean
that—but she failed in one area. Two, if you count your
brother.”

“
You are a heartless
woman.”

“
I never said otherwise.”
She walked carefully down the path, her heels crunching in the
snow. Malachi stayed at her side in the uneven drive.

She said nothing as they
approached her car. She slipped her key in the lock and turned to
him. “Well, as you can see I’ve arrived at my car. Your duty is
done—”

He smiled, the grin glowing
in the low light. “Jul—”

The thud sent him reeling
into her. Julia screamed, arms reaching up to catch him as he fell.
Dark shadows seemed to come from everywhere, surrounding them
quickly. Malachi jerked, his hand falling against her car. He spun,
fist shooting out at the first shadow.

The sounds of fist meeting
flesh was the only sound heard. Jules couldn’t get an accurate
count, it was too dark and they moved too fast.

She swung her backpack,
knowing that the shadow with the white shirt was Malachi and being
careful to avoid him. She’d slipped spare shoes in the bag earlier,
spiked heels that would do some damage if her luck was
good.

As tempted as she’d been
earlier to hit him, he was her only ally against whatever,
whomever, it was surrounding them. And she prayed he’d be able to
fight off whoever it was.

Jules hadn’t been that
terrified since Stephenson had attacked her in Georgia’s kitchen
and she’d known Matthew was less than fifteen feet away. She’d been
so scared that monster would go after the little boy. Malachi
fought hard, and Julia wasn’t exactly a slouch.

Still, they were
outnumbered. And she couldn’t tell by how much. She slipped in the
snow, her ankle twisting viciously. She went back with another cry,
landing heavily against her car.

Malachi turned toward her,
the distraction costing him. He went down, and didn’t get back up.
Soon three shadows stood around him, kicking him. Hard.

Jules screamed again.
Fought against the fourth man. He was relentless. And he was on
her, slamming her hard; her head hit the hood, the pain reminisce
of Stephenson’s fist plowing into her face months ago. She didn’t
move for a moment.

Then one of the men cursed,
and another blur joined the fray around Malachi. Then Paige was
there. Paige yelled, told Jules to run, get help. To get inside,
get to Mikhail. Jules couldn’t. She wouldn’t leave Paige fighting
alone. And Malachi still hadn’t moved.

Paige was swinging a ball
bat, and she got in several good hits. Jules fought her own
assailant, mentally counting. There were at least two men kicking
Malachi. Jules struggled with a third. That left one unaccounted
for. No, he was the one fighting with Paige.

So where did the fifth
shadow come from? The final man had Paige’s arms; Jules heard the
bat hit the side of her car as one man threw it. Then they turned
on Paige, two men viciously attacking the girl. Jules tried, but
she couldn’t throw the man on her off. Couldn’t help her friend.
And Malachi still wasn’t moving.

“
Let’s end this!” The one
said, his hands suddenly around Jules’ throat. Jules heard the thud
of Paige’s body hitting the snow, then she felt pain as the man
rammed her head into the hood of her car.

She smelled copper, smelled
blood. The smell mingled heavily with sweat and cologne.

For a moment she thought
she was in the midst of the nightmare she experienced every night.
Thought that she’d soon see the mangled Toyota with her husband and
brother-in-law trapped inside. Would soon hear little toddler
Matthew crying for his daddy, would hear Georgia’s sobs as she
pulled the child free from his car seat.

Then she realized it was
too damned cold to be that nightmare. She always remembered the
heat, the July sun beating down on her as she tried in vain to help
Bryan. Her Rick had already been gone, gone before she and Georgia
had gotten to the car. For some reason she always remembered the
heat first.

But now...now she was just
damned cold. She opened her eyes, afraid of what she’d
find.

Malachi Brockman’s face was
the last thing she expected to see. An undignified squeak
escaped.

His blue eyes jerked open.
He looked just as surprised as she felt. Then realization dawned.
He started to sit up, his hands rose to his head, pausing when he
realized he’d been bound.

Horror filled her as the
events of earlier filled her mind. It hadn’t been a bad
dream.

* * *

Malachi hurt all over,
worse than the time he’d fallen two stories while chasing an
UNSUB—unknown subject—through Detroit. Then he’d ended up with
three cracked ribs and a wrenched thigh muscle. This was
worse.

And he wasn’t exactly
certain what had happened. He remembered walking Julia out,
remembered teasing her. Remembered something hitting the back of
his head.

And then he remembered a
desperate fight in the dark, remembered hearing her scream.
Remembered an intense sense of failure as he’d fallen.

“
Julia, are you alright?”
There wasn’t much light in the room they were being held in, just a
tiny patch of probably early morning sun shining through what had
to be a basement window. Still, Malachi could make out the scared
eyes of his companion. “Sweetheart?”

She nodded. “You? How’s
your head? Your ribs? You can feel all your extremities? They hit
you pretty hard.”

“
I’m fine. What exactly
happened?” He ran a quick eye over her. She had bruises forming on
the skin around her neck—bruising he could accurately identify.
Some bastard had had his hands wrapped around her pretty throat.
Her hair was tangled around her face. Her bottom lip was
swollen.

Her dress was torn,
revealing the smallest glimpse of pale skin and silky bra. Her coat
was missing; her skirt had ridden up obscenely high. Or been jerked
up.

She still wore sexy lace
garters and black stockings. Fury filled him at the knowledge that
their captors had most likely seen those legs, those stockings.
Stockings that were shredded and muddied. Bloodied. Oh, God. “How
badly did they hurt you, sweetheart?”

“
Not as badly as they hurt
you...or...Paige. God, Paige.” Tears filled her eyes. Malachi
stiffened.

“
Paige was
there?”

“
After a minute, after
you’d been knocked down. She had a ball bat. But there was a fifth
man.” Her voice was husky, the tears making speaking difficult.
“They left her in the snow. She wasn’t moving.”

Malachi’s throat
constricted. Why would they take him and Julia—but leave Paige?
Paige was a bigger threat than Julia. Julia might have been
Quantico-trained, but she was a doctor first, not an agent. Paige
was by far the larger threat. Unless Paige was already dead. Paige
couldn’t be dead. Not her. Not his Paige. Still, why would they
kill Paige but not Julia? Not him?

“
I’m sure Paige will be
ok.” They both knew his words were a lie. “Mikhail was there,
remember? He’ll find her and take care of her. And then he’ll kick
ass and take names.”

She bit her lip, her
expression one of mixed hope and disbelief. “We have got to think
of some way to get out of this.”

Malachi had never felt like
a bigger failure. He’d failed at keeping her safe. Failed at
keeping Paige unharmed. Malachi knew she was right. “First we need
to figure out where they’ve got us. And who the hell they are. I
need you to tell me exactly what you remember.”

Julia closed her eyes for a
moment. “There were five of them. All male. As big as you, if not
bigger. They didn’t say anything other than the one saying they
were going to end this. Then his hands were around my throat. I’m
sorry, that’s all I can remember.”