I Spy a Dark Obsession

“Yeah.”

Ending the call, he stared at the blur of lights whizzing past and prayed harder than he ever had. Which was saying something, because he’d never been a praying man.

Tonight, he was making an exception. On his knees, if necessary.

Please, God, don’t take him from me. From us.

Katrina grabbed her purse and keys and hit the door, uncaring that she wore only a pair of well-loved sweat pants, a T-shirt that stated YOU CALL ME “BITCH” LIKE IT’S A BAD THING, and running shoes. She’d gone for a walk earlier and was just about to take a long, hot bath when Michael phoned.

One of Dietz’s men got to him.

The heartbreak and terror in his voice got her moving, fast. She’d paused only long enough to make sure she had her ID badge for entry to the compound.

All the way there, she wished she’d asked for a few more details. Her mind was spinning with all of the possible scenarios, each one more horrible than the last. Three weeks, and not a single appearance from Dietz. The guys were ready to scrap this op. What the hell had gone wrong?

Okay, enough. No use speculating. She had no choice but to be patient and get the story later. One thing was for sure: tonight effectively put an end to her argument with Michael over her moving to his estate. She’d claimed that such a move would clue in Dietz as to their relationship. He’d countered that the asshole might know already, and she’d be safer at his place. Now Michael would get his way.

She wasn’t so sure she minded. Hell, she was at his place more often than not. Which, if she was honest, was in no way a hardship.

At the compound, she found a close parking spot and rushed inside. Took the elevator to the fourth floor, vibrating with impatience. The second the doors slid open, she sprinted down the corridor to the hospital and pushed inside. As she approached the receptionist, she tried to be calm and polite though she felt anything but.

“Could you tell me where Mr. Ross is waiting? He’s expecting me.”

“Through those doors, dear. He’s in the private waiting room, second door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

She forced herself to slow her steps, to project calm strength despite her fear. If she barged in panicking, that wouldn’t do Michael any good. Pausing outside the door, she took a deep breath and pushed inside.

Michael was sitting in one of the padded vinyl chairs, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. As she approached, her serene facade evaporated.

Michael was crying.

Tears dripped off his chin and his shoulders shook. He was pulled into himself so tightly, as if afraid he’d fly apart. “Michael?”

His head jerked up and it took him a couple of seconds to process that it was her. His face was ravaged, eyes red. Dark stains were drying on his shirt, the knees of his jeans. Blood. He rose, visibly attempting to pull himself together, and then his face crumpled, his arms reaching out.

“Katrina…”

Launching herself into his arms, she enveloped him in her embrace, held on. He clung to her and she stroked his back, rubbing in soothing circles. “Shh, I’m here. Right here, with you.”

She kept talking, mostly nonsense. She’d never been good at this sort of thing — comforting another person in a terrible situation — but this felt right. Natural. Michael was hers, and she wanted more than anything for Bastian to be, as well.

“He was shot and beaten,” Michael said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a sob. “The bullet hit his thigh and he was bleeding out. They’re in there trying to save him.”

God, no. “They will. We have to believe that.”

“Rhodes came out a few minutes ago. They had to restart his heart, give him lots of blood to replace what he lost.”

“He’s strong. He’ll make it.” Please.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let me hold you.”

“This must’ve been how he felt. When it was me, in there. And I didn’t understand what he went through until now.” He paused. “Do you think he knows?”

“That you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Deep down, he probably does. But you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I swear I will.” Pulling back a bit, he gazed into her eyes, more serious than she’d ever seen him. Even for Michael. “I love you, too, baby. It’s newer, but it’s there. I want you to know that, because it seems time is so short… ”

“I do know,” she assured him, soul lightening some in spite of the agonizing wait. “I feel it, too.”

“Why have I been so stupid? So stubborn? I’ve wasted all this time, and now he might—”

“No. We’re not going to think the worst,” she said firmly. “Let’s sit down, and I want you to tell me what happened.” Maybe if she got him into agent mode he’d have something to grab onto, be able to pull it together. A scattered, devastated Michael frightened her more than she’d ever dreamed possible.

“That kid, Cory. The one Bastian has been seeing. Dietz got to the kid, fed him a story about how Dietz was FBI and Bastian was a criminal they were after.” Michael gave a bitter laugh. “Can you believe that shit? Our Bastian, a fugitive? But the whelp bought it and agreed to get Bastian to the hotel tonight so the FBI could collar him. Dietz had promised the kid five grand for his cooperation.”

“I’m sure Dietz made it sound legit. He likely even had authentic-looking FBI identification.”

“Probably. Anyway, we kept listening after Bastian said to call off the op. A gut feeling on my part, I guess. We heard Cory get suspicious of the story he’d been fed, and finally confess his role to Bastian. They got out of the motel room, but Dietz’s men arrived. Cory got away and called our private emergency number. Bastian killed one of the two men Dietz sent, but was shot in the thigh. He ran, and Dietz’s main henchman, Tio, pursued. He cornered Bastian, beat the hell out of him, and was about to shoot him in the head when I got there.”

“And you stopped him.”

“I blew the bastard’s fucking brains out.”

“Good,” she said fiercely. “I’m glad.”

He nodded and fell silent, but kept a tight hold of her hand. Relating the story had done the job, giving him the chance to compose himself. She didn’t have to be told how important appearing strong was to a man like Michael. Even if she knew the truth.

He was a kind man with a huge capacity for love. For hurt and grief. He might not want anyone to know, but Katrina did.

And that just made her fall deeper in love with him than ever.

Ten

Almost three hours with no word. Ozzie and Willis had arrived a couple of hours ago, and all three men had finally succumbed to exhaustion and were dozing in their chairs.

Next to Michael, Katrina was listening to his even breathing when McKay walked in and gave her a small smile. “Shall we wake up these guys? I have some news that will put their minds at ease.”

“Thank God,” she said. Turning, she gently shook Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, sweetie? Wake up. Michael?”

He stirred, blinked. “What?”

“Taylor has news.” She nudged Ozzie’s foot with her toe. “Guys, wake up.”