by Shayla Black
Gus knew that might not be enough to save this situation, though. She might have to make a choice whether to save the incriminating recordings of Constance Hayes that could bring down an entire presidency or Roman.
She would choose her man in a heartbeat.
Kemp moved so slowly, not making a single sound as he carefully released her.
“Somehow I think I’ll take my chances. They won’t want to lose such a valuable asset,” Darcy insisted. “Speaking of losing, Augustine Spencer, do you know what you’re going to lose if you don’t come out and give me what I want?”
Gus tensed at the words but held her tongue. She could certainly guess what—or who—the bitch was referring to.
“Give me whatever you found in this bloody barn. I’d rather not put a bullet through Roman’s skull,” Darcy threatened in a nasty snarl. “It’s such a shame to waste a man like him. He’s so pretty, isn’t he?”
But she would do it, whatever happened. Now that she’d tipped her hand and admitted she worked for the Russians, Darcy couldn’t afford to keep him alive.
Kemp shifted to her right, inching his way out from behind her. The thud of Leon’s shoes against the wooden floor coming ever closer masked the sound. The flick of his flashlight darting back and forth made Gus’s heart race.
“But he won’t be quite so lovely when I’m done with him. In fact, he’ll be a bloody corpse if you don’t stop hiding like a coward and save him.”
“Even if she was here and not up at the main house, she would be far too smart to trust you.” Darcy might think Roman’s words were directed at her, but Gus knew who he’d really been speaking to. “We both know you’re going to kill me anyway. You have to. There’s no way out, so it would be so much smarter for Gus to run as fast and far as she can because she can’t change the outcome. She can only get herself killed and lose the evidence.”
Kemp crouched lower as the light zipped closer to their hiding spot in the dark.
“Why would that crazy cat lady store anything here?” Darcy’s voice had gone from menacing to eager in an instant. “Of course. She’s the daughter of the nurse who looked after Hayes’s mum. That’s what the Russians want—her mental health records.”
“The Bratva didn’t get rid of the files?” Roman sounded confused, which he rarely was. But he was likely buying them time, too. Every second he kept Darcy talking was one more she wasn’t shooting him.
Gus refused to even consider running. She wasn’t leaving him, either. And she definitely wasn’t above using the recordings to bargain for his life. He’d called her too smart to give into Darcy’s emotional blackmail, but she was far too in love not to give into it.
And if their roles were reversed, Roman would never leave her.
At that realization, she knew exactly what he’d meant when he’d said he wanted a house in the suburbs. He hadn’t been rattling off some passing notion. He hadn’t been randomly kicking around some ideas for his future because they’d had nothing better to talk about. No, he wanted a house in the suburbs for a family. His family. This was his “too scared to openly talk about his feelings” way of asking if she might want to have a family with him. If she might want to live with him in that house.
If she would marry him.
She had to save him first—now more than ever.
“I don’t know anything about the files, but I would assume if my contact had stolen them in the first place, they would have been smart enough to take any other evidence, too,” she mused. “Unless the Russians didn’t realize something else existed.”
Or if Marjorie House had swiped the recordings before anyone else could. The physical files had been subject to the hospital’s storage and privacy policies until they’d been added to the database. What if automating them had tipped off their enemies about the files’ existence?
None of that mattered as Kemp gripped her shoulder and urged her back against the wall, switching their positions.
He was putting his body in front of hers? She could see the light from Darcy’s goon coming dangerously close, stalking them with ruthless certainty. She supposed Kemp wouldn’t take her bag and run if he was working in Zack’s best interest. But why did it matter to him if she lived?
It would be so much easier to create some chaos, grab the tapes from her, and run. He didn’t know that she had a gun. He didn’t know she’d taken self-defense classes. He was far bigger and stronger and could probably crush her. But instead, he was being protective. Why?
“Who do you work for?” she breathed the question so softly, she was almost certain he hadn’t heard her.
“I’ll tell you everything when we get out of here. Stay behind me.”
So, Kemp really wasn’t the bad guy. An agent working on Zack’s behalf to catch another traitor in their midst? Or maybe the redundancy Deep Throat had talked about? That was an interesting possibility. But then what about Mad’s plane and the fact that Kemp had been there before Mad had taken off?
Gus was still looking for an answer, her head whirling with implications, wrapping itself around the problem. She came up with an impossible solution.
Oh, my god.
In the distance, a loud crack split the air. She jumped at the sound. The stray beam from the flashlight almost caught them before flipping up and back at the noise, then Leon ran toward the front of the barn.
“What the hell was that?” Darcy asked.
“That was Gus,” Roman lied. “My baby’s packing, and it sounds like she took out your guy at the main house. I told you she was there.”
“Did Sparks come?” Kemp asked quietly. “I caught someone following me and figured it might have been him. If so, we may have a chance to come out on top.”
“Yes, but we can’t leave Roman,” she whispered back.
“We have to run. Sparks will save him.”
That was not happening. “I won’t leave him.”
Kemp cursed under his breath. “Well, I heard you were a badass bitch. Guess that means you’re stubborn, too. All right, we’ll fight. Keep your head down and don’t lose those tapes.”
Kemp didn’t wait for her confirmation before uncurling from his crouched position silently. Then he popped up like a cobra.
Suddenly, gunfire split the world around Gus. So close. So loud. Rat tat tat. She couldn’t see anything more than Kemp’s outline as he loomed above her and intermittently pulled the trigger. She didn’t know who was firing and when, but she knew she had to get in the battle and make sure they won.
As she reached into her purse and curled her fingers around her own weapon, Kemp grunted and looked down at his chest. He coughed. Then his body went slack and he crumbled to the floor beside her.
“Damn,” he managed to eke out, sounding weak and wheezy. “Lucky shot.”
She scrambled to her knees, but it was so dark. She couldn’t see exactly where he’d been hit. It didn’t matter now. She had to find her weapon and defend herself or she’d likely end up with a new hole or two, like Kemp. And what about Roman?
She reached for the gun in her bag again, but she had so much crap inside that she fumbled to grab hold of it as footsteps thudded in the outer part of the barn. Who was that?
She had no idea how many of Darcy’s goons were left. Had Kemp managed to hit anyone? Who had been shooting up at the main house? Connor? Or had Gene gotten in his own lucky shot? If so, Gus would have to explain to Lara why she no longer had a husband. And what if she’d lost the man she loved, too?
She felt sick.
“Move it, Calder,” Darcy ordered.
Gus almost sagged in relief that Roman hadn’t been caught in the crossfire—so far.
“You’re going to leave Leon lying in a pool of his own blood?” he asked, giving Gus the information she needed.
So Leon was down. She only had to kill Darcy and Gene, if he’d managed to survive the firefight at the main house.
“Shut up,” Darcy snapped.
“You’re hell on henchmen
.”
“I think it’s time I take you with me and see how much the president values his chief of staff.”
Gus’s eyes widened in horror. That couldn’t happen. She felt around for Kemp. She still couldn’t see anything, but he seemed frighteningly still.
“Matthew?” she murmured somewhere near his ear.
No answer.
Trembling, she groped him until she found his wrist. Frantically, she laid her fingers over his pulse point.
Nothing.
Oh, god. He really was dead.
Her heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She didn’t know if Connor was even on the property yet. She might be completely alone in trying to save the day. But somehow she couldn’t let Darcy have Constance’s recordings while ensuring she didn’t take Roman away.
Otherwise, she feared she’d never see him alive again.
How was the property laid out? With her head whirling, Gus couldn’t remember much. Where would that crazy bitch have parked? She had to think, had to get there before Darcy managed to shove Roman in a trunk and leave.
She managed to feel Kemp’s FN Five-Seven lying beside his slack hand. She didn’t have time to hunt through her purse for her own gun, so she grabbed it and began feeling her way around the back of the barn for the hidden hole in the wall he’d mentioned.
“I’m moving,” Roman grumbled. “You don’t have to poke me. I understand you’ll shoot me so everyone should remain calm and do what they need to do.”
Gus got his message. Stay right where she was until Connor showed up, then let him handle everything. She discarded that idea. She wouldn’t wait to save Roman. She had to act now.
“Where the hell is Gene?” Darcy’s voice was growing more distant, but Gus couldn’t miss the tension in her voice. The woman was scared now.
It seemed she’d come with two men—and one was definitely down. She couldn’t possibly have thought she would be up against a Secret Service agent and a pissed-off woman in love. If Connor had arrived, add a former CIA guy to the mix, and Gus didn’t see how Darcy could win.
Once Roman and the recordings were safe, she would figure out if her wild theory about why Kemp had been here and who’d sent him could be true. At the very least, she would tell everyone he’d tried to protect her, as well as keep the tapes away from Darcy and her Russian contacts, so he’d be given a hero’s burial.
But for now she had to move.
Since she no longer had to be inconspicuous, Gus continued to grope the wall until she found a hole that had been disguised by someone propping up a few spare boards against the opening. Wincing, she forced herself into the jagged space, a nail tearing at her slacks. Wedging her tall frame through the opening was a tight fit, but she made it.
Then Gus took a deep breath and reached back for her purse, securing it over her shoulder. Those tapes weren’t going anywhere. She was going to get them to safe hands and save her man.
“Get up!” Darcy shouted. The sound carried from around the corner of the barn, somewhere to Gus’s left. She wasn’t sure where Darcy had parked her car. Or how the woman had found them unless what Kemp had said was true about their phones being traced.
“Stop!” Roman yelled back. “I need a minute. I rolled my ankle.”
Gus flattened her back against the barn wall and crept to the corner, peeking around to get a line of sight on Roman. He lay on the ground. Sure, he might have fallen, but Gus would bet he’d tripped on purpose. He was trying to give Connor time, a chance.
But she didn’t see the former CIA agent. That made her Roman’s only chance at survival.
“Get up or I’m going to shoot you,” Darcy promised. “I won’t wait any longer.”
Gus heard the desperation in Darcy’s tone. She was panicking, and that was bad for Roman.
He wouldn’t leave with Darcy willingly, not until he knew Gus was safe. But without that assurance, he would fight and he might well lose the battle—and his life.
Hell no.
Gus pivoted, raising the gun as her father had taught her. He was with her in that moment, though he’d left the earth years ago, and she could hear him patiently advising. Safety off. Target in sight. Don’t rush the shot.
Dax was with her, despite being an ocean away. The gun is an extension of your hand, your will. See where you want the bullet to go. Take a deep breath. Steady.
Roman jerked his head up suddenly. Their stares met. He was with her, too. While Darcy yelled and moved in behind to give him a kick, he sent Gus a simple nod.
Do it.
He trusted her. He needed her. He believed in her.
Gus took a deep breath just as Darcy caught sight of her. The woman’s eyes widened. Time seemed to slow as Darcy yanked her pistol up. But Gus was way ahead and released the breath she’d been holding as she pulled the trigger.
Then time accelerated, and Darcy’s head suddenly slammed back. She collapsed to the grass in an unmoving heap.
“Damn it, Gus!” A masculine voice yelled across the yard. Connor jogged over from the main house, his shirt torn, his gun at his side. “I wanted to question her. You couldn’t have injured her or at least left her with a damn brain?”
Roman slumped to the grass, rolling onto his back, splattered with blood. Had he been hurt?
Gus ignored Connor utterly. Still clutching Kemp’s weapon, she rushed to Roman’s side and dropped to her knees. “Roman? Are you okay? Do we need to call an ambulance?”
When she gripped his wrist and began searching for a pulse, he pulled her down, wrapping his arms around her. “I love you, too, Augustine. I love you so much. Thank you.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and hugged him back.
“Get a room, you two,” Connor said with a rueful shake of his head. “You have to get back to London and I have to deal with all these damn bodies. I left the CIA so I wouldn’t have to deal with bodies anymore, damn it.”
“There are two more in the barn.” Roman managed to sit up. “Unless Kemp somehow survived the bullet he took.”
“Kemp’s here?” Connor peered through the doors.
“Yeah, but he didn’t make it. He was trying to protect me. He probably saved us.” Her mind was still working. “Guys, was he possibly working secretly for Zack?”
“Not for Zack. I would have known about that. I would have told you,” Roman insisted.
“How about Deep Throat?”
Roman shrugged. “That’s possible. We may never know.”
Gus wouldn’t stand for that. That wild hunch of hers was looking more possible… She wouldn’t rest until she had answers.
Connor holstered his weapon. “Get those tapes to Zack pronto. I assume you have them?”
“Of course,” Gus confirmed.
Roman stood, offering her his hand. “Don’t you know there’s nothing my girl can’t do?”
“Excellent,” Connor returned with a smirk. “Then she can drive back to London, and you can help me get rid of the bodies.”
Roman thumped a hand over his chest. “Nope, I’ve had a harrowing day. I might have a heart attack, you know. I need to keep Gus close. She can perform mouth-to-mouth.”
Rolling his eyes, Connor pulled out his cell. “Go. You’re useless to me. I know a firm in London I can call. The CIA uses them from time to time. They’ll help me clean up and figure out who the hell the two men are.”
“You can’t leave Matthew here,” Gus insisted. He’d given his life in the line of duty. She wasn’t sure precisely why he’d been working outside of the Secret Service, but there was no doubt in her mind he’d been trying to protect the president in his way. “He should have full honors.”
Connor nodded. “I’ll figure out how to make that happen. His service record might have to be confidential, but his family will know he died in the line of duty. Now hurry and get out of here. I don’t want this to hit the press. And Gus, you did good.”
Roman hauled her up and into his arms, holding her close. “You were fantas
tic, and I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I knew you would show up and save the day. I love you. All I could think about was the fact that I hadn’t said it back. Let me say it every day for the rest of our lives.”
She rested her head against his chest, hearing the soothing beat of his heart. “I think I can handle that, Calder.”
“Roman,” he corrected. “Or maybe husband?”
Gus smiled. They would finally be together. “Yes.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“What exactly do you mean when you say you’re going to marry my sister?” Dax scratched his head, staring at Roman as though trying to figure out if he was joking or not.
Roman glanced around the large parlor in the East Wing of the White House, hoping for some backup. Dax was making him crazy. He’d tried to explain the new situation to his friend about ten times already.
Dax’s new bride, Holland, slid an arm around her husband’s waist and cuddled close. “I think he’s trying to tell you what everyone else has known for years. He’s in love with Gus. It’s about damn time, Calder.”
It was, in fact, far past time.
Dax frowned. “Is this like an April Fools’ joke no one told me about?”
Roman groaned. “No, but we’re thinking about getting married in April, buddy.”
Gus claimed she needed at least that long to properly plan her wedding. Since he was the reason she’d waited all these years to get hitched, he was willing to give her anything she wanted. The only thing he’d insisted on was that she move in with him the minute they’d gotten back to DC. He’d refused to wait another second to start their lives together.
They’d flown home yesterday morning. He’d had her in his bed that night. And he planned to every night from now on.
Life was looking up.
But this evening was likely going to be a rough one. Zack had asked them all to gather in the parlor, and Roman was almost certain the news wasn’t good. Zack had waited until this afternoon to listen to the tapes, unwilling to chance that anyone could overhear while still in England. How hard had it been for Zack to finish up his meetings with the prime minister as if nothing had happened? Hell, it had even been hard on Roman, but at least he’d had Gus by his side.