It was James’ sudden silence that brought her back to reality as he parked at the Agency. He opened his mouth to speak, but Frida was already out of the car and marching to the front entrance.
Cleo buzzed her in, and when she looked, she couldn’t see any sign of Malco. The violet-haired office manager followed her gaze and frowned. “Are you looking for someone?”
“Malco.”
Cleo shook her head. “He didn’t come back here. Is something wrong?”
Frida didn’t know how to answer. Not yet. Not until she could have a private chat with the man. “Do you think I can borrow a car?”
James stepped beside her. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive around on your own. Not when someone could be following you. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. Consider me your personal chauffeur for the rest of the day. Where are we heading?”
“I need to find Malco. He disappeared on me, and it’s urgent I talk to him.”
James shrugged and mumbled something about waiting in the car.
Cleo sighed and walked around her desk. “You’ll probably find him at his place. I don’t know what happened, but there are two things I know about Malco. The first is he’s steadfast, and if he left you, it’s because it was something important, or he was really shaken up and thought he had to step back and have somebody else protect you. From the tone of his voice when he called and asked for someone to fetch you, I suspect it was the latter.”
Instead of reassuring her, it felt like a punch in the gut. “And the second thing?”
Cleo’s face softened. “There is only one place Malco would go to regroup, that he deems safe enough, apart from the Agency, and that’s his place.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “The first number is the security code for the front gate and outside perimeter, the second one is the code for the house. Please destroy it once you’re inside, and I’ll deny giving you the codes if he ever asks me.”
For the first time in several hours, Frida felt like smiling. “Thank you, Cleo.”
With a wink, the manager returned to her desk, and Frida finally felt she had a plan to corner Malco and get the answers that were haunting her.
It felt like she was in a Mission Impossible movie from the moment Frida stepped out of James’ truck. As she entered the first code at the gate, the annoying hunk rolled down his window to advise her to remain on the path to the house, as it was likely Malco had planted explosives in the garden. She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
Instead of answering, she closed the gate in his face and headed to the front door and another keypad. After entering the second code, Frida heard the lock click. There was no turning back now. Shoving the piece of paper in her pocket to dispose of later, she stepped inside. The place was dark as it was late in the afternoon, and rare storm clouds dimmed the sunlight.
She remembered the way to the kitchen and the hallway to both bedrooms, but as they were empty, Frida decided to venture deeper into the house.
The house was all on one floor and was bigger than it appeared from outside. Once she passed the garage door, she heard a muffled noise. And then another followed by a groan and shout.
Moving faster now, Frida followed the sound that led to a half-closed door and peeked through the crack. Her breath caught when she saw Malco inside.
She couldn’t see the whole room from her position, but what was visible was Malco hitting a punching bag as if he wanted to tear it open. Shirtless and dripping with sweat, he’d taped his fists with a red bandage. The only light came from the side window, and it cast an erotic glow over him.
Each muscle bunching because of the effort, his handsome face looking intense and threatening in the dim light, Malco looked every inch of the warrior she knew he was. He had been a Green Beret, and that was no small thing to accomplish. They were special operatives involved in dangerous missions and only carefully selected men got to that level. Malco was one of them.
Fascinated, she watched him pummel the bag with even greater force, lust quickly mixing with admiration. When he moved and came into full view, Frida froze as her she caught sight of his right leg. The black sports prosthetic started below his knee and encased the limb before curving into some sort of blade. Even with this extension, he moved with lightness and purpose, much more than she would ever be able to do with both her limbs intact.
Her head pounded as more questions hit. Despite her initial intent to confront him, Frida felt foolish now. She was intruding on a man who had more layers than she’d initially thought, and he probably fought his own demons. Maybe hearing about her pain triggered something, maybe even PTSD, and he needed time to process. She was such an ass.
Deciding Malco needed this moment for himself, and that she would catch up with him later, Frida moved backward and turned away as silently as possible. Maybe she could call the Agency and have James come back and fetch her. She could see where Rina was and return to the center. Maybe talking to the kids again would bring forth more information.
She didn’t have time to take another step before she was body-slammed into the wall. Her ears ringing, a wide hand squeezed her neck for a second, making it hard to breathe until it relaxed enough to allow her to draw much-needed air. Her heart beating hard, her eyes went to the towering figure and she recognized Malco.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
