His arm thrust forward and he plunged the blade into her stomach. Withdrew, stabbed her again in the side, as she twisted in his grasp.
“Mother of God,” Ozzie whispered.
Maggie crumpled to the asphalt like a rag doll and writhed, dying, as the men walked off. Katrina closed the video. “That’s basically it.”
Michael didn’t need to see his wife’s struggle to phone for help, or watch her life drain away as she stopped moving. The woman was pronounced dead on the scene, the camera dutifully recording all of the sadness that came afterward with the paramedics, police, and eventually the coroner.
Without saying one single word, Michael rose and slowly walked out.
Bastian broke the silence first. “The big bastard was Tio, Dietz’s lapdog.”
“Dietz had Maggie killed,” Blaze said hoarsely, running a hand down his face. “My God. He cold-bloodedly arranged a woman’s death. Why? So he could take over SHADO while Michael was out mourning her?”
Bastian nodded. “I think you nailed it. Her murder was the first step of his big, insane plan to run his own little kingdom here. But he failed.”
“But who’s the other man in the video?” Ozzie wondered aloud. “Does he look familiar?”
“I wasn’t watching him as much as I was her and the other one,” Bastian admitted. The others agreed.
“I’ll play the beginning, just until he comes into the picture.” She ran the video again. When the man approached, she paused it. She didn’t recognize him, but then again she didn’t often come into contact with their targets. She just provided the surveillance equipment. “Any ideas?”
Blaze moved closer to the screen, frowning. “Go a little farther ahead. There’s a spot where he faces the camera more.” When she came to the place, he said, “There. This is the — Oh, shit!”
“What?”
“That’s the guy who gunned down Michael a few weeks ago! He’s the one I caught, who’s been in the cell down below, cooling his heels.”
“And if Michael recognized him just now?” Bastian asked.
They all shared a look filled with fear.
“Oh, fuck! Let’s go.”
Blaze took off running, followed by Ozzie and Willis. Katrina hung back with Bastian, frantic for Michael but not wanting to leave her other lover behind.
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“No, we’ll go together. The others will get there first and he’ll be fine.”
She hoped. The two of them made good time, Bastian moving fast despite the crutches. She worried he’d aggravate his injuries, but that thought flew out of her head when they approached the cell and she got a look at the horrifying scene in front of them.
The cell was open, the three agents standing in a half circle around Michael and the suspect. The man was kneeling at Michael’s feet, eyes crossed, staring at the muzzle of the hand canon pressed in the center of his forehead. He was babbling in terror.
“Please! I didn’t kill her! It was Tio!”
The feral snarl transformed Michael’s face into that of a man she’d never seen before.
“You’re just as guilty, you worthless piece of shit. You went along with Dietz and Tio. You watched her die.” He pressed the barrel harder into the man’s head. “How does it feel to know your life is about to end? Will it hurt to have your brains splattered all over this cell, do you think?”
“No! Please. I didn’t do it!” he shrieked. A dark, wet stain quickly spread across the front of his drab trousers.
Bastian maneuvered into the cell and the others moved to give him room to try to talk his friend down. “Michael, you don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, I think I do.” His chest heaved with emotions raging out of control. The hatred in his eyes as he gazed at his prey was a truly frightening sight. “I blew off Tio’s head a few days ago. Did you know that, worm? He looked shocked as fuck when the back of his head sprayed all over that dirty alley.”
The man on his knees started to sob.
Balancing himself, Bastian slowly laid a hand on Michael’s gun arm. “You killed Tio in my defense, to save my life,” he said calmly. “Killing this scum, with him begging on his knees, drenched in his own piss, is not honorable. It would be murder, and you’re not like him. You’re not like Dietz or Tio.”
“He stood there and did nothing while she died.” His voice broke and the gun shook.
“Yes, and he has to face justice. But not this kind. You pull that trigger and you’ll become everything you hate. Your life will be over and it won’t be only yourself you’ve destroyed.” Bastian paused to let that sink in. “Put the gun down, Michael. Let the Feds take custody of this creep. Choose life. Choose us.”
Katrina held her breath, so scared for him. Bastian was right. If Michael did this, he’d destroy himself in the process.
One long minute passed. Michael’s arm lowered, the weapon pointing at the floor. All of the rage seemed to drain out of him, leaving him spent. Hollow. He turned and left the cell, pausing only when Katrina took his hand.
Their entourage continued on, leaving the weeping prisoner alone again. In the elevator, Katrina whispered in Bastian’s ear. “We need to take him home.”
“Good idea.”
Michael didn’t protest, didn’t speak a word as they led him straight from the building and climbed in the limo. Her eyes met Bastian’s and she knew they were on the same wavelength.
Their tough, strong man needed them both tonight. This crisis had been a long time coming.
And together they would love him through it.
Twelve
He hadn’t deserved Maggie. And she was dead.
He’d known her death was horrible, agonizing. But to see it played out in front of his eyes, to know she’d been murdered because of him was more than he could take. Too much. His mind had snapped, and when he’d recognized the other man on the video, he’d wanted only to torment and kill. How Bastian had gotten through the crimson haze to him was a mystery. He still felt disconnected. A stranger in his skin.
During the ride home, his lovers let him be. While he appreciated the silence, he didn’t believe it would last. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but doubted they’d let him, especially after he’d completely lost it.
Or maybe they would pack and leave. He wouldn’t blame them if they did.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and upstairs,” Bastian said, his tone brooking no argument.
They were home already? Simon met them in the foyer, his wrinkled face a study of concern, but Bastian shook his head and the old butler retreated. In a daze, Michael allowed himself to be hustled to his room — their room, if they still wanted to stay with him — and pushed onto the bed. He moved to the middle and they sat beside him, each one touching him, saying nothing for a long while. Katrina stroked his hair and Bastian untucked his dress shirt, pushed a hand underneath to rub his stomach.
The touches were soothing, and after a while, he realized they weren’t going to lecture or barrage him with questions. They weren’t offering sympathy, pity, or false cheer — all of which he would have rejected in an instant. They simply offered comfort, and he drank it in big gulps, like a man dying of thirst, while they waited. So patient with him.
“It’s my fault,” he said at last, the words like razor blades in his throat.
