Watching From The Shadows: Trident Security Book 5 (7 page)

Assorted shouts and barking reached Marco’s ears and suddenly he was free. But not for long as Ian and Murray, the day guard, hauled his ass up and held him back from lunging at Brody again. The geek was being restrained as well, by Carter and Boomer, but from the look on his face, he was ready to start round two.
Well, fucking bring it on!

“Fucking knock it off, assholes,” Ian roared. “Now!”

After a few meager attempts to break free, both men reluctantly backed off, knowing there was no way their friends were going to let them get near each other again—at least not until they’d both cooled off. Even Beau was standing between the two of them, and the trained guard dog’s incessant barking was cut off by a curt command from Ian. Marco’s lungs heaved for oxygen as his best friend glared at him while wiping the blood from the side of his mouth with his fist. Brody shrugged out of Carter and Boomer’s grip.

“I’m good. I’m done,” he growled at them before pointing a finger at Marco again. “You better do the right fucking thing man, because if you don’t, I will.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he spat. His jaw was throbbing in pain.

“It means, fuck-wad, if you don’t man-up and start acting like a father to Mara…a real fucking father…then I will!”

Marco scowled at Brody’s retreating back as the man headed toward his truck, jumped in, and peeled out of the parking lot. Wisely, Ian, Boomer, and Murray backed off, but Carter surprised him by stepping forward, ignoring Marco’s angry stare. Evidently, someone had filled the guy in. “He’s right, dude. I know you’re still in shock, but think about this long and hard before you walk out of that kid’s life, because when you’re old and grey…that walk might just come back to bite you in the ass. And then it’ll be too late.”

Minutes later, Marco was standing all alone in the lot, licking his wounds, and wondering what the fuck had just happened. Hell, even the usually friendly Beau was snubbing him, having returned to the offices with the others. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone in the world.
Fuck!

C
HAPTER 6

Five hours later, covered in sweat, Marco pounded on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in one of his spare bedrooms. It had become Nina’s bedroom when she’d moved in with him six months before her death. After her passing, it had taken him weeks before he could enter the room again, even though she had given away most of her possessions after finding out her cancer was terminal. The hospice bed was long gone, so aside from a few pieces of furniture and pictures on the wall, it had been relatively empty. A few months ago, he’d opened the door one day and decided to do something with the room. He already had an office across the hall, so a home gym seemed like the perfect solution.

He’d taped his bruised knuckles from his earlier fight with Brody to prevent the abrasions from bleeding all over the leather covered bag. They were sore, but he ignored the pain, channeling it back into his punches. Alternating between jabs, crosses, hooks, and uppercuts, followed by some knee and feet kicks, he punished the bag for its fictional crimes against humanity.

Shit!
He’d actually had a knock-down, drag-out, fist fight with his best friend. What the hell had gotten into him? He couldn’t blame Brody for decking him. As he thought back to the words he’d spit out seconds before the geek’s fist connected with his chin, he deserved every punch thrown at him and more. His reaction to the whole fucked up situation was…well, fucked up.

After landing a one-two combination harder than necessary, he finally hugged the bag in exhaustion. A shower, followed by something to eat, and he’d head back to the hospital. It was time for Harper and him to have a serious talk. From there, he’d figure out what to do next, but in the meantime, he would do everything he could to keep her and their daughter safe.
Their daughter…jeez.

He’d just opened a nearby cabinet to get a towel when the beep-beep-beep of his security system went off. Grabbing for the pistol he kept hidden on the top shelf, he prepared to confront the intruder, but then heaved a sigh of relief when he heard a familiar voice bellow, “Don’t fucking shoot me. I’m just here for the food.”

Leaving the weapon where it was, he stepped out into the living room, wiping his dripping face with a towel, to find Carter in the adjoining dining area. The guy was sorting through several bags of takeout from Donovan’s Pub, which were sitting on the table next to a six-pack of beer. The remark about the food was a long standing joke between the team and the operative after he had run into Devon, unexpectedly, at a swanky hotel in Rio de Janeiro while on a mission many years ago. But the quip was usually stated in the negative sense, though, and meant he couldn’t talk about his current classified assignment. Apparently, right now, he was in the mood to talk.
Great.
Just what Marco fucking needed.

The superspy glanced up and smirked. “Figured you could use a good burger and a beer or two. Jenn threw in a slice of carrot cake, too, just for you.”

He grabbed the nearby remote and turned on the TV to ESPN with the volume on low. “That’s ‘cause she likes me best.”

“Not.” Carter snorted as Marco headed to the kitchen for some napkins and ketchup. “She likes me best. She packed up some fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies for me. The big ones I like that come with the vanilla ice cream, which she also gave me a container of.”

“We’ll call it a tie then.” Returning to the table, he took the takeout container Carter pushed his way and sat down.

“God help us when that girl falls in love. You single guys will starve to death. Thankfully, I know how to cook.”

Marco added some ketchup to his burger and fries before handing the bottle over. “By the way, the door was locked with the system armed, and you’ve only been here once before that I can remember. How the hell…” He stopped and rolled his eyes, knowing the man could probably get into Fort Knox if he wanted to. “Fuck, never mind. Stupid question.”

“Yup, it is. Dig in.”

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Carter grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth. “So, talk to me, my friend.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Then I’ll talk. You just sit there, stuffing your face, and listen. I know enough about your background to know we aren’t that different. But where you were raised by family members, whether they were there for you or not, I got bounced around in foster homes for years.”

Stunned, Marco paused with his beer halfway to his lips. He’d been friends with the man sitting across from him for about seven years, but he knew very little about him beyond their professional and BDSM worlds. Being a black operative for the U.S. government, Carter had always kept his background and personal life outside of Tampa as secret as his classified missions.

Ignoring his friend’s look of surprise, Carter took a swig of his beer before continuing. “Do you remember what it was like back then, when you still had hopes and dreams of being part of a normal family—mother, father, siblings—in a house with a dog and a white picket fence? And don’t deny it, because every kid with a crummy childhood like ours has that dream until they find out there’s no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny.”

Placing his beer back on the table, Marco nodded. “Yeah, I remember. But like most orphans too old or not eligible for adoption, I found out it was a pipe dream.”

“But even though you were technically an orphan, you still had someone. You had Nina. I only met her a few times, but she was sweet and funny…and obviously got the good looks in the family—which you missed out on.”

Marco snorted, but let the insult slide.

“And now you have an opportunity to have a family again. With your daughter. And with Harper. Or maybe without her, but from what I saw at the funeral, there was something between you that I don’t think either of you were aware of at the time.”

“You were at the funeral?” Marco hadn’t seen him, but that didn’t mean anything. He could be a ghost when he didn’t want to be spotted.

“At the gravesite. I only had a short window of time, but I wanted to pay my respects.” He leaned back in his chair, leaving only a few stray French fries in the takeout container. “But I’m getting away from the subject. Anyway, it’s obvious to me you have abandonment issues, my friend.” He held up his hand when Marco opened his mouth to argue with him. “Deny it all you want, but coming from a similar background, I see it in you. But I also see a man who’s overcome every obstacle life threw at him since birth to become someone on a very short list of people who I admire and I’m honored to call a friend.”

Dropping his gaze to the last of his hamburger which he no longer wanted, Marco swallowed a lump in his throat, but remained quiet. Carter and he had had many meaningful conversations over the years, but never anything this deep and personal. Well, as they say, there’s a first time for everything.

“You turned into someone the subs adore. Not just for the orgasms you give them, but for the part of you they find comfort and guidance in. I don’t know where you got it from, maybe from raising Nina, but it’s there.” He jabbed his finger on the table a few times, emphasizing his point. “Take that part of you and give it to Mara. You did a damn good job of making sure your sister became an adult who would have conquered the world if cancer hadn’t taken her. She was an amazing woman and the turnout for her funeral is a testament to that. Dude, give Mara the tools she needs to become an amazing woman like Nina. Don’t
ever
let her feel like you abandoned her in any way, because I know that’s not the man you are.”

* * *

Standing outside Harper’s hospital room, Marco took a deep breath, ignoring the inquisitive looks McCabe and Foster were giving him. He was trying to psych himself up for the coming conversation. Her mother and the baby had left an hour ago, under the watchful eyes of Boomer and Devon. The overnight shifts had been contracted out to Chase Dixon’s Blackhawk Security, where Trident got their backup personnel and transportation when needed. Even with the new Omega guys, they were using six guys per shift—three on Mrs. Williams and the baby, and two here outside Harper’s room. The sixth man had been assigned to the security office downstairs on the first floor. Ian had called in a favor to the hospital’s CEO, so they had eyes on everywhere the cameras were within the facility. The police department still had a man outside Harper’s house guarding the crime scene.

“You going to stand there all night, just staring at the door?”

Not turning his head toward the man, Marco held up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Foster, or your next training session is going to be a twenty mile run with a fifty-pound pack.”

The former Secret Service agent snorted, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Come on, DeAngelis, get a fucking grip. You can do this. Just walk in there and propose
.
How hard can it be?
“Shit.”

Pushing the door open, he entered and made sure it was completely shut again before directing his gaze toward Harper’s bed. If she was surprised to see he’d returned, she didn’t show it as she waited in silence for him to say something. He cleared his throat, but didn’t move away from the door. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m done puking,” she answered in a matter of fact tone he didn’t care for, “if that’s what you’re asking, but my head still feels like I got hit with a baseball bat. By the way, what did I get hit with? I forgot to ask the police.”

“A bookend. One of those wooden elephants you have on your bookcase. You’re lucky he didn’t grab the cast iron or marble ones.” Harper kept an extensive book collection in her home office and had been collecting elephant bookends from around the world since she was young. The police figured her assailant was in that room when she pulled up the drive and he grabbed the nearest thing he could find. She had only gotten a few steps into the foyer when he struck her from his hiding spot behind the front door. Her office and bedroom had been trashed, but they would need her to look through everything to figure out if anything was missing. “Did you remember anything?”

She gestured for him to take a seat in the chair next to her bed and he relaxed a little, relieved they were going to talk and not yell. When he sat, she shook her head slightly, being mindful of her injury. “No, I didn’t. The last thing I remember was stopping at the supermarket for diapers. Ian and Detective Murdock were here a little while ago and gave me the third degree about my clients and who might have a grudge against me. It could be any of my clients’ husbands or boyfriends who felt I was the cause of their separation, divorce, or their wife or girlfriend’s disappearance. I told the detective I would check with the bar association on Monday to confirm what I can release to the police without breaking client/attorney privilege. But I’m always so careful to make sure I’m not being followed, and I keep my home address and phone numbers unlisted, so I really think it was a random burglary.”

Marco had gotten an update from Ian on the way over. While it was a possibility the attack was random, it was the general consensus among the men, who didn’t believe in coincidences too often, that Harper had been targeted for some reason. According to Dr. Dunbar and Harper’s office staff, she had been on the receiving end of death threats in the past from men who blamed her when their abused partners couldn’t take it anymore. The local chapter of Friends of Patty would not confirm which women they had helped disappear or even how many of them there were, but Marco’s guess was the number was in the hundreds. He hoped they were wrong and this was a random crime because he didn’t like the thought of someone gunning for Harper.

“What happened to your neck and chin?”

Not wanting to tell her why his best friend had decked and choked him, he lied. “Sparring in the gym…got a little out of hand.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Staring out the window, he mentally ran down a checklist of things which had to be done before she was released tomorrow. He knew Ian and the team had every detail covered, but the unknown assailant could always throw them a curveball they would never see coming. So they had to expect the unexpected.