Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) (12 page)

A tap sounded off on the door, sending her pulse through the stratosphere. But the sound was followed by a deep, quiet voice saying, “DEA,” and Kylie’s breath whooshed out in relief.

“Oh thank God,” she murmured, unchaining the door to pull it open. “We thought you’d—”

The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a rough hand over her mouth. Ripping pain exploded through her head, and the last thing Kylie saw before she slipped into blackness was Xavier Fagan’s cold, dead stare.

Chapter Ten

Devon took his backup weapon out from behind the toilet, giving the nine mil a quick clean-and-check before sticking it in his waistband at the small of his back. Normally, he didn’t go that route, preferring not to shoot his own ass off by accident, but even with the SIG in his side holster and the butterfly knife in his boot, he wasn’t about to be too careful.

Kylie trusted him to keep her safe. And for the first time in four years, he trusted himself one hundred percent, too. Yeah, her being in protective custody was going to suck, but he knew Kellan. His buddy wouldn’t stop dogging the DEA until Fagan was behind bars and razor wire, and if the MacKenzies were able to pull a few strings, with any luck, Devon could keep eyes on Kylie until that happened.

Guys like him weren’t supposed to have luck, but damn, today sure felt like his day.

He opened the door, stepping into the motel room. “Okay, we’ve only got a few minutes, so—”

His words crashed like a ten-car pileup at the sight of Xavier Fagan with a gun to Kylie’s head and his greasy hand clapped over her mouth.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Fagan said, pressing his snub-nosed Glock harder against Kylie’s temple as Devon’s muscle memory jerked his hand in search of his gun. “I’ll be needing that weapon of yours on the bed. Whatever’s in your boot, too.”

Devon cursed, his stomach going low and tight as he scanned Kylie for injuries. Blood trickled down from her hairline, but only enough to suggest a small wound. She was conscious, her blue eyes glassy and wide, and goddamn it, Devon was going to dismember Fagan for putting his hands on her.

“Okay,” Devon said, his tactical options rolling through his skull at warp speed. Time. He needed to stall until Kellan arrived with the cavalry. “Just give me a minute.”

“You have ten seconds, or I’m going to redecorate this room with what’s inside your girl’s pretty little head.”

Kylie’s whimper kicked Devon into gear. He slipped out of his holster, tossing the SIG onto the bedsheets, heel-toeing his shit-kickers to the carpet in front of him.

“Happy?” he asked, holding his hands at his side in concession.

Fagan’s laugh curled around the air like a filthy dishrag. “Let’s see. I damn near had my nose broken, courtesy of this dirty whore”—his grip over Kylie’s body dug tighter at the mention of the blue-black bruise swelling beneath one eye—“I’ve wasted manpower and money chasing your asses all over the fucking map, and I had to cash in the mother of all favors in order to finally nail your location. Fucking DEA agents. They might be good, but they’re not goddamn cheap.”

Realization cemented Devon’s breath to his lungs. “You bought off one of the agents on the field team?”

“Circle gets the square,” Fagan said, his voice overloaded with sarcasm. “You think just because we’re in a big city, DEA agents can’t be bought? Shit. I’ve got news for you, Randolph. Everyone can be bought. Kinda like the clerk at the county office three towns over from Surrender. Told me all about that sister of yours. How many kids does she have with that husband of hers now? Three? No, wait—four. How could I forget that sweet doll Greta?”

It took every last ounce of his self-restraint not to just say fuck it and try to murder Fagan with his bare hands. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I? Because I want to be sure you know exactly how this is going to shake out. I’ve got five, maybe six minutes before the DEA swarms this place. Which means I only have two to kill the both of you. Lover’s quarrel.” Fagan paused, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “So sad. But if either one of you fights me, or even so much as looks at me sideways, I’m going to make sure both your sister and that pain in the ass Kellan have very unfortunate accidents.”

Kylie’s eyes rounded in terror, as if she were finally shaking off a fog. Her body tensed, her steps jerky as Fagan kicked at her feet to steer her farther into the center of the room.

If you move…

…I’ll kill you just as slowly
…

All of you will die today.

No. No.

Kylie trusted him. He trusted himself. All Devon needed was an opening.

Which, of course, he didn’t have.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Fagan said, loosening his grip on Kylie just enough to stick her with a glittering black stare. “I’ll even do you first so we can get this over with quick. Remember what I said about making a fuss. You scream, and I’ll gut your brother like a pig.”

He took his hand off Kylie’s mouth, and her eyes landed on Devon’s.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

The gun was out of his waistband on pure, primal instinct. He registered the press of cold steel, the squeeze of his muscles forming one fluid move, the stop-motion image of the crease between Fagan’s eyebrows.

Devon shot him between the eyes in the span of a heartbeat.

“Oh my God!” Kylie let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob. “Oh my God, oh my God. Devon!” She launched herself at him, her voice breaking with emotion and relief.

He put a quick visual on Fagan even though he knew he’d landed a kill shot, and yeah, the guy wasn’t ever getting up. “Jesus, Kylie. Baby, let me look at you.” Devon loosened his grip on his nine mil, his hands coasting over her in fear and relief.

“I’m okay,” she said, although she let him turn her so her line of sight didn’t include Fagan’s body. “I’m—”

The door exploded inward on a burst of noise. “DEA! Don’t move!”

Devon shielded Kylie, his gun back in hand within seconds. “My name is Devon Randolph, and this is your witness, Kylie Walker. Your man down is Xavier Fagan. The scene is secure.”

Fortunately, nobody got chippy with him, because the next two people spilling through the door were a female detective and Kellan, both wearing Kevlar and both looking furious.

“Kylie!” Kellan elbowed past the agent who had stopped to secure Fagan’s body, throwing his arms around his sister. “Shit, Ky, you’re bleeding. Moreno, you need to roll an ambo out here, like now.”

“I’m fine, Kellan. I mean, Fagan rang my bell a little, but all things considered, I think he got the worse end of the deal,” she said.

Kellan chuffed out a laugh. “You must be okay if you’re cracking wise.”

The female detective, Moreno according to the nameplate on her Kevlar, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, passing it to Kellan so he could administer first aid. “What the hell happened here? How did Fagan find you?”

Kylie opened her mouth, but Devon cut her off before she could answer. “I’m not sure.” He cut a glance at the three DEA agents, all within earshot, and no way was he going to let whichever one of them was dirty get away with putting Kylie’s life at risk. “I must’ve been sloppy somewhere along the way.”

“Bullshit,” Kellan said at the same time Kylie flinched, but Devon continued despite the punch of emotion in his gut.

“Fagan muscled his way in, tried to grab Kylie. I took a lucky shot. That’s about all there is to it.”

Moreno frowned. “Pretty careless for someone who should know better. Not only did you risk Kylie’s life, but now everyone working with Fagan will go deep underground. We’ll probably never catch most of them.”

“Hey,” Kellan protested, but Devon put his hand on the guy’s shoulder. This was hard enough as it was.

“You got Fagan. Now can we get out of here to give our statements? Because you might not like them, but I think you’re going to want to hear them.”

* * * *

Devon pushed back from the table in the interrogation room, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he propped his forearms over his thighs.

“So you’re telling me Xavier Fagan paid off an agent in my unit in order to obtain the location of a witness so he could murder her in cold blood before we could take her into custody.” Special Agent Brett Collins, a.k.a. Detective Moreno’s contact and head of the DEA’s field office in Chicago, looked at Devon with an unreadable stare. “That’s a pretty hefty accusation.”

“I’m aware,” Devon said, especially since he’d made the accusation a half a dozen times since arriving at the field office four hours ago. “But since my statement is the truth, I’m not going to be changing it any time soon. No matter how many different ways you ask me what went down.”

“Mmm.” Collins scrubbed a hand over his salt and pepper goatee. “Well, Ms. Walker’s story corroborates yours, and there was a clear and present threat to her well-being. For now, I’m inclined to let you walk. Provided that you agree not to disclose the details of what Fagan told you to anyone.”

Devon didn’t envy the guy for the investigation he’d have to launch into his own field officers’ conduct, that was for damn sure. “Of course. You don’t think Kylie’s still at risk, do you?”

“On the record, I’ll tell you that I can’t disclose any information pertaining to the case. But off?” Collins paused, one shoulder of his white dress shirt lifting in a half-shrug. “Fagan was the head of the snake. Whoever his informant is will probably hide. Not that it’ll help when I get my hands on him.”

Devon followed the man out of the interrogation room, his pulse doing the hey-now in his veins as he spotted Kellan in the main hallway.

“Hey. Jesus, I thought they were going to keep you in there all month. Is everything okay?”

The entire chain of events kind of turned
okay
on its ear, but given the fact that he was too hungry, tired, and fried to make like a thesaurus, okay would have to do. “Yeah. How’s Kylie?”

“She’s okay. I sat with her while she got checked out by paramedics and made her statement,” Kellan said, his eyes shifting around the busy corridor. “But she’s tough. And she was definitely adamant about what happened.”

“That sounds like her,” Devon said. His stomach suddenly felt like someone had dropped it in the spin cycle, but the words had to come out. “Listen, about your sister—”

“Is this the part where you tell me you dig her?”

What. The. Fuck. “Uh,” Devon stammered, and seriously, this was not how he’d pictured this going.

Kellan crossed his arms, but the corners of his lips tugged upward into a smile. “Look, I’m not ever going to be wild about my sister seeing anyone, but she told me how she feels about you. What you did to keep her safe. If she’s going to be with anyone, it should at least be a guy who’s good enough for her.”

“Are you sure that guy is me?”

“I trusted you with Kylie’s safety from the beginning, man. Not because you were close by, but because you’re you.” Kellan paused, sliding a hand over the dark stubble covering his chin before continuing. “Look, I know you’ve carried around a lot of guilt over what happened in Afghanistan. But what happened that day wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. I mean, I do now,” Devon said, and damn, it felt good to mean the words.

“Good. Then you also know you’re good enough for my sister.”

Devon blinked, shaking the hand Kellan had extended in his direction. “Thanks. I promise to treat her right.”

“Do yourself a favor,” Kellan said, his blue stare sharpening like razor wire. “Just don’t ever tell me about it, okay?”

“Copy that.” He bit down on his smile. “You headed back to North Carolina?”

Kellan nodded. “Tomorrow. First I’ve got some shit to hash out with Detective Moreno, namely how she vouched for a team that nearly got you and Kylie killed.”

Whoa
. Devon wasn’t touching the anger in his voice for all the money in the vault. Somehow, he got the impression that the two of them getting back on board with each other would take more than a conversation. “Got it. I guess I’ll go find Kylie. Make sure she’s okay.”

“I just dropped her off at the Hilton, about six blocks from here,” Kellan said. “There’s a room reserved for you there too.”

“Oh. Okay.” A room he didn’t have to lock down like Leavenworth sounded like a gift right now. “I’ll guess I’ll be there if you need me.”

Devon found the place easily enough, thank you cell phone GPS, and snagged the keys to his room without any trouble. As badly as he wanted to make sure Kylie was okay, he knew Kellan had barely left her an hour ago—probably after a ridiculously extensive room check—and he needed a shower like nobody’s business. Slipping his room key in front of the card reader, he pushed open the door, vowing to take the fastest shower known to man, woman, or child…

Kylie was sitting on the bed, wearing nothing but a robe and a smile.

“Hey,” she said, looking so pretty that Devon’s chest hurt. “I hope it’s okay, but I asked for adjoining rooms.” She pointed to a door over her shoulder, and he lifted one corner of his mouth at the irony.

“Since it saves me from having to track you down, I’d say adjoining rooms are very okay.”

Her smile grew even bigger. “Well, they kept you longer than I expected, but we can have this warmed up if you want.”

Only then did Devon see the room service trays covering the side table across from the bed, and he couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“Let me guess,” he said, moving over to lift one of the silver domes.
Yep
. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I would’ve made it myself, but my resources are a little limited,” she said, slipping from the bed to close the space between them.

Devon wrapped his arms around her, knowing without question that Kylie was where she belonged, and so was he. “I thought maybe we could look for a kitchen in North Carolina. One that needs an owner. Or two.”

“You want to move with me to Remington?” she gasped.

“Like you said, I don’t have a crystal ball. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know I want to be wherever you are, Kylie. Starting with right here, right now.”