G-Men: The Series (154 page)

My life had become more settled over the past year. It hadn’t been easy with what had happened that night in Mullaly Park, when I’d seen my father, inches from me, his one arm still wrapped around my neck, shot down.

I shivered with cold chills and my mind played it back to me in slow-motion. The shot wasn’t even loud as I recalled, but within seconds, I was pulled to the ground as my father fell, taking me down with him. I just remember screaming, thinking that it couldn’t be happening, knowing that it was.

Taz was there beside me in seconds, scooping me out from underneath my father, and wrapping me tightly in his strong, comforting arms.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, rocking me back and forth in his arms as he rested on his haunches. “Everything’s going to be okay, Lindsey. I’m here and you’re safe,” he soothed, stroking my hair, and kissing the tears as they streamed down my face.

I recalled how I had struggled against him in his arms; crying and thrashing, and uttering things to him that I hadn’t meant.

“Who shot him?” I screamed. “Did you shoot him, Taz? Tell me this fucking minute if it was you?” I had demanded an answer, refusing his comfort until I knew the truth. I wasn’t sure, at that moment, if I could ever be with Taz again if he’d been the one to pull the trigger.

I recalled the other agents and New York City police officers who were now surrounding us, having caught up with Taz. One of them had checked my father for a pulse, but I knew he wouldn’t find one. The sharp-shooter that had fired the shot had made damn sure of that.

Taz had placed his fingers under my chin and roughly tilted my face upward so that green eyes met green eyes. His were flashing with something—not full anger, but little compassion was evident. I tried to turn away.

“Listen to me,” he growled, his fingers squeezing a bit tighter, not allowing me to look away. “I fucking love you, Lindsey! I fucking love you with every piece of me, not just my heart, but every fiber of my being is fucking devoted to you! Do you even understand that? Do you?”

I’d never seen my Taz like this—ever. I was scared, but I was also mesmerized momentarily by the passion and the force of his words as they touched me and spread like torched gasoline throughout my being, touching every fiber in me with their intensity, and warming me with his love and devotion.

I had nodded, not daring to look away as he continued, tears building up in his own eyes now. He tried to shake them away, tilting his head upward towards the stars that were now coming out full force, trying to allow the cool, evening air to dry them.

“Yes, Taz,” I whispered softly. “I do understand.”

He abruptly looked back down, into my eyes, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his FBI field jacket.

“I’m not sure you do,” he replied calmly. “Because if you did, you would’ve never put yourself at that kind of risk again. Déjà vu all fucking over again, babe.”

Those words coming from him totally unraveled me. They were meant to hit home and by God, they had.

“God, baby,” I breathed, wrapping my arms tightly around his strong neck and pulling him closer with every bit of strength I could muster. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Taz. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Please don’t be mad at me, please?”

He held me tightly, lifting me in his arms as he stood up and carried me away from my father’s body.

I had buried my face in his neck, telling him over and over again how much I loved him and how sorry I was to hurt him like that. My voice was getting hoarser with each word, but I couldn’t say it enough because it was the truth and because he’d been right. Taz’s love for me surpassed anything in this world. That included parental love.

I had realized it right then and there. Seeing the pain and sadness in his eyes had torn into my heart like a dagger. It was then I had vowed never again to do anything that might bring pain and sorrow to him again. My Taz…

^warning

From the Author:

The chapter that follows this page has been termed the “Fake” chapter for a reason. The reason is that it was never
intended
to be part of “Love Plus One.”

You see, here’s what happened:

I was going along, writing “Love Plus One” and then one day I got what is typically known as a case of ‘Writer’s Block.’ It’s fairly common, and usually just a temporary (and hopefully very brief) condition, where the author just doesn’t have the rest of the story flowing in his or her head, on paper, or on the laptop.

So, I did what I normally do and took a break from the writing until I could feel the creative juices flowing once again. This writer’s block occurred around the time in the book where Samantha is having a problematic pregnancy, and I just wasn’t sure where I wanted to take that sub-plot. I considered several various scenarios and decided I’d just sleep on it for a while until something came to me.

During this time, one of my beta readers was growing impatient for me to feed her more of the storyline for “Love Plus One.” I kept telling her to be patient because I was dealing with this writer’s block thing, and as soon as I felt creative again, she’d get more pages to read.

So one day, she nags me again for more of the story, complaining that she’ll have to start back at the beginning in order to be able to pick back up on the story since it had been so long. (It was like a week…Pffft!)

I decided I’d sit down and type up the next chapter of “Love Plus One,” determined to make it a chapter that would totally, fucking blow her mind. And I did. And IT did…

She phoned me immediately after reading it, cussing at me and telling me that I had just ruined the book, as far as she was concerned. I let her blow off steam and then calmly told her it was a fake chapter…just a practical joke.

She very calmly told me that if I had time to waste on fake chapters, then I needed to get my ass in gear and start writing real chapters and finish the book!

Whatever!

The good news was that writing it did get my creative juices flowing once again. So, I was able to pick up where I had left off and finish writing the book.

That is how the “Fake” chapter came to be.

It was never intended to be an actual part of the book. I REPEAT: IT WAS NEVER INTENDED TO BE AN ACTUAL PART OF THE BOOK.

Now, having said that, please, please don’t read it if you think it will upset you or affect your rating of “G-Men Holiday Wrap,” okay?

Promise?

Seriously—
DO YOU PROMISE?

Hmmm…I don’t know, Ash. Whadda ya think?

Okay, then…

^{fake chapter}

I had been in the hospital for six days, healing from the tearing wounds that Kyzer’s brutal and savage rape had left. A staff psychologist had been assigned to my case. He had held several private sessions with me while I was an inpatient. I was to attend weekly group therapy sessions upon my release.

To be perfectly honest, I just wanted to put everything that had happened out of my mind, as if it hadn’t occurred. After all, what was the sense in rehashing the horrid details over and over again in my mind? I certainly didn’t want to get up in front of other rape victims and share the gory details. What would I say?

How about that I felt filthy and eternally stained by the horrid things that Kyzer had done to me, and what he’d made me do to him? How about the fact that I’d never feel clean, no matter how many baths, showers and scrubbings I performed on my body? How about the fact that I had required over twenty sutures to close the gaping tear he’d given me from my vagina to my rectum?

I was damaged goods; there was no doubt about it. Even Taz had seemed distant to me lately. I knew the FBI Internal Affairs was investigating the whole situation to make sure Taz had acted in accordance with FBI procedures and protocols, having drawn his weapon and fired, killing Kyzer who was unarmed.

That was Taz. At that one moment in time his actions had been totally governed by emotions. Slate had explained it to me as a situation where Taz could’ve taken him in alive and perhaps gained more Intel over the people involved in this latest drug ring. Susan had fled once again; it royally pissed Slate off that Taz had killed Kyzer, who more than likely would have sung to the feds about where she might be. All of that was now lost with Kyzer’s death.

I was angry with Slate for his treatment of Taz. Slate acted as if any person, whether they’re with the bureau or not, could simply put feelings aside in that split second when observing such a heinous, brutal violation of someone they cared about. Slate and I hadn’t really spoken since I’d returned home.

Mom was still in the hospital. She was grieving for many reasons. I felt guilty that the whole situation with me might’ve spawned her miscarriage of the twins. They’d been identical girl twins. Mom had done such a great job of keeping that a secret from everyone, with the exception of Slate.

Her doctor said that the condition she had with TTTS was still a difficult one to treat, though modern medical practices have improved. I knew Mom was beside herself, thinking that had been the last opportunity to give Slate the daughter that he longed for. He’d been at the hospital day and night since she miscarried. He said that Mom had sunk into a very lethargic and depressive state. He wasn’t sure that he was equipped to bring her out.

Grandma had come to Falls Church during the period I had been hospitalized and then for Mom. She had taken Bryce back to Indianapolis to stay with her until Mom was released from the hospital and felt up to handling him on a daily basis.

I had pretty much been moping around the house. There wasn’t a lot to do, since Bryce wasn’t around.

Slate was doing his best to stay busy at work. When he wasn’t at work, he was at the hospital with Mom. She was scheduled for a full hysterectomy the following day. Apparently, with the death of one twin several weeks prior to the other, there were toxins that had nearly killed her. The antibiotics had helped, but the scar tissue and lesions it had caused in her uterus would make any future pregnancies ‘high risk.’ Both she and Slate were heartbroken.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that, had I not made that stupid decision to meet with Kyzer that day, most of what had happened, would not have happened. I would never know for sure about Mom’s miscarriage, though. I only hoped she didn’t blame me.

I had just finished my shower. Once again, I had scrubbed my skin raw, with some areas bleeding, trying to get the stench of Kyzer Stanfield from my body. I had a feeling that I never would.

It was damn near midnight. I was surprised Slate wasn’t home yet. Hospital visiting hours had been over for quite some time. I figured he might be staying in Mom’s hospital room tonight, since her surgery was scheduled for early tomorrow morning. Still, he typically would let me know things like that. He knew I was still skittish, not knowing Susan’s whereabouts.

I put on a short, silky nightie, figuring I had the house to myself tonight. I went downstairs to the kitchen and poured a double-shot of Patron into a glass with several ice cubes. I downed it in two gulps, and then poured another.

I went out to the family room and switched the television on, surfing the channels to find something I could tolerate. I hadn’t heard from Taz for more than two days. He saw me as tainted goods—what else could it be? Darcy had said I was being foolish…that Taz wouldn’t regard me any differently than before. She said, most likely, he was up to his eyeballs answering to Internal Affairs, at least that was Darin’s take on it. Darcy had constantly prodded him for information, since Slate hadn’t said shit to me about Taz.

I finished my second double-shot of top shelf tequila, and then poured another. I ended up passed out on the sofa in the family room when Slate tripped in after 2:00 a.m.

I felt him rustle me with his hand on my shoulder.

“Lindsey,” he said, “what the hell are you doing on the couch? Go to bed.”

There was something very strange about Slate’s voice and what he was saying to me. He sounded drunk. Some of his words were slurred. This was definitely not the Slate I knew.