Second Chances: A PAVAD Duet (36 page)

As he lead the woman to the
makeshift dance floor—normally his dining room—he decided to let
Julia have her retreat. This time. Besides, he wasn’t too sure what
he’d say to her right then, anyway.

He didn’t see her again
until half of the guests had dissipated. When he did find her, it
was to see her standing protectively in front of Paige as both
women glared at his brother.

Malachi knew Paige and
Mikhail hadn’t exactly started off on the right note, but it
surprised him they’d be so openly hostile toward one another. If
Mick had said something to Paige to upset her, Mal wouldn’t be
happy. Mal loved that kid, and if he had his way he’d adopt her
into his family completely.

God knew Paige needed a
family. He knew her story, knew how the courts had taken her and an
older brother from her drug-addict mother three days after she’d
been born. She’d been a ward of the state from that moment until
the age of twelve.

Paige had hit the streets
at the tender age of twelve, somehow surviving the next six years
living in dark alleys and overpasses. Malachi had nearly vomited
when he’d learned how she and Carrie had survived, had learned how
they’d sang for food money, how they’d hitch-hiked for warmer
weather when necessary.

He had even seen some of
the scars on Paige’s scrawny body. Knife scars, belt marks, burn
marks. The kid had been abused, had been through true hell—and
still had an amazing capacity to love. Malachi did his best to
protect her. In fact, he protected Paige more than he did his own
sister. And she wasn’t even that much younger than thirty-year-old
Alex. Of course, everyone protected Paige. Everyone. Even Julia,
apparently. But Mick just ignored Julia, glaring at the much taller
Paige.

Malachi didn’t quite
understand his brother at times. Ex-military special forces, Mick
had gone straight into the FBI once his six year term was up. He’d
then spent nearly a decade as an agent in violent crimes and white
collar before making a startling jump to Internal Affairs. IA—one
of the most hated divisions in the Bureau.

Mal hadn’t seen him in
nearly two years, until he’d shown up as a last minute replacement
for one of the IA agents assigned to tear Ed Dennis’s career
apart.

Malachi wouldn’t have Mick
giving Paige a hard time.

Apparently Julia felt the
same way. She slid her small body more fully between Paige and
Mick. Malachi fought the urge to laugh at the bulldog expression on
her face as she glared up at his brother. A long way up.

Julia was five inches of
five feet tall-he’d learned that during a previous case—nine inches
shorter than Mal. His brother stood twelve inches taller than
Julia. Minimum. And Mick was extremely thick with muscle. He could
pick Julia up one-handed if he wanted. And not even break a
sweat.

But Mick didn’t even seem
aware of Julia, all his attention focused on the much taller Paige.
His brother growled something that had Julia’s expression darkening
and her chin rising. Paige glared up at him, her arms crossing in
front of her body.

Malachi stepped between
them. “Mick, how about a beer before we clean this place
up?”

His brother switched his
glare to Mal’s face. He nodded down at Mal, though the dark scowl
stayed on his face. Mick had a bit of a temper, Mal remembered many
fights between them as boys. He was three years older than Mick and
the battles they’d engaged in had been intense. Mal wouldn’t trade
them for anything in the world.

Brothers did that. He
slapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder as he led him back to
the makeshift bar; he’d missed him, pain in the ass though he was.
Infrequent phone calls and emails just hadn’t been the
same.

Still, now that Mick was in
St. Louis for two weeks Mal intended to make the most of it. They
could catch up. Spend the Christmas holiday together with their
mother and father and sister.

It would be their first
Christmas all together in nearly a decade.

He knew his parents would
like that. They’d moved to the city two years ago, a year after
Alex had transferred to St. Louis. Two of their children in one
city had been the incentive. Mal loved having them close, and knew
Alex felt the same way. “It’s good to have you here, little
brother. I’ve missed your ugly face.”

“
Sure you have.” Mick
snorted. “I’m sure you had plenty of people around here to keep you
company if you needed it.”

“
Yes. I had plenty of
friends. But a brother’s a little different.” Mal handed his
brother a cold bottle then grabbed one for himself. “So what was
that all about?”

“
What?” Mick glared down.
Mal always found it ironic that his little brother stood three
inches taller and outweighed him by fifty pounds. He wasn’t so
little anymore.

“
Paige and
Julia.”

Mick scowled. “That girl.
She’s going to get someone killed someday. Probably
herself.”

“
I take it you mean Paige?
She’s very good at what she does. Why do you think
differently?”

“
I’ve seen her kind
before.” Mick took a swig from the bottle in his hand. Both men
watched the two women as they helped the Brockman parents in the
kitchen. Their mother hugged Paige, patted Julia’s shoulder. She
liked the two younger women, everything in her body language made
that clear to Mal.

“
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. Mal
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...” Mal
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
Mal’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.

***

Julia was exhausted, but
she wasn’t leaving until the last of the kitchen was spotless.
She’d enjoyed spending the time with Alex’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.
Marilyn and Kenneth Brockman were the kind of parents every child
from a dysfunctional family dreamed about. Alex 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.

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—Alex
driving them home, Jules, Paige, and the two brothers worked
diligently returning Malachi and Alex’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 Mal
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
months ago, and Paige had been staying with Alex and Malachi until
the repairs were finished. Normally she stayed in the guest room,
but had given that up for Mikhail.

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. Fifteen 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. Mal 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 Mal frown. Maybe it wasn’t a good
thing. He’d have to give it more thought. Later.

“
No. I’m going home.” Jules
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. Mal 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.”
Jules walked carefully down the drive, her heels crunching in the
snow. Malachi stayed at her side in the uneven drive.

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

He grinned.
“Juli—”

The thud sent him reeling
into her. Jules 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…

Coming 2013

Ana & Fin’s
Story…

The PAVAD
Prequel

WAITING

Anastacia Sorin was
screwed.

Georgia had her—and they
both knew it. It had been as fair a fight as it could be. Both
women were small in stature, of the same build and age. Both had at
least eight years’ training in the martial arts, weaponless
fighting, and hand-to-hand combat. Both were skilled supervisory
special agents with the Child Exploitation Prevention Division of
the FBI.

But Georgia hadn’t been up
all night fighting nightmares. And she coolly, methodically wiped
the floor with Ana. Ana’s face hit the mat and a knee rammed into
her spine. “Do you yield, Ana?”

“
Yield.”
Ana’s relaxed every muscle in her body, pressed closer to the
rubber floor beneath her cheek. Submitted. “
Dammit
, George! Get off me! Your
knee’s sharp!”

“
Spill,” Georgia ordered
ten minutes later, as the two women changed out of their sparring
clothes and into their regulation business dress. “You’re not up to
par today.”

“
What do
you mean? Just because you beat me…this time…” Ana slipped her
trousers over her hips before glancing at her friend. Georgia
always managed to look stylish no matter what she wore—Ana would be
the first to admit a small pinch of resentment as she compared
Georgia’s black trousers to her own dark navy. There was dust on
one navy knee, and a safety pin held the trousers together. Ana
always somehow managed to look a bit ragtag.
Especially
next to
Georgia.