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“Dammit!” She rushed to him, tearing feverishly at the duct tape. “I was aiming for his gut.”
His rich laughter rolled over her and she paused her effort to free him long enough to plant a hard, grateful kiss on the healthy side of his battered mouth.
“No fair,” he protested when she leaned back. He struggled against the remaining tape. “I want to hold you.”
“Me first. My heart stopped when he shot at your head.”
“Blanks, remember?”
“Tell it to my heart.” The moment he could move, he opened his arms and she went gleefully into his embrace, wrapping her arms tight about his waist. “Blanks can still do damage. You don’t ever get to be bait again.”
“Deal. You did it. You won.”
He rained kisses over her face, both of them heedless of Ross and the others releasing Abe and treating Bakr with the minimum required compassion.
“Ms. Battaglia.”
Reluctantly, she eased away from Carson. “Special Agent Nichols.” She looked him up and down. He’d traded in his suit and perfectly knotted tie for a jacket and cargo pants in a hunting camouflage pattern.
Knowing now that he’d been behind the sniper scope, that he’d been working undercover as the man ‘loyal to Abe’, she rushed to hug him.
“Thank you.” Bart and Carson were both alive because he’d stepped into the breach. He resisted for a moment and then awkwardly patted her back. Taking pity, she released him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Active duty looks good on you.”
He rolled his eyes and his strong jaw jumped with impatience. “We’ll need you to come in and give a statement.”
“Sure thing. Right after Christmas.”
“The car’s waiting now.”
He motioned her forward, but she ignored him to help Carson to his feet. “Not tonight, Dan. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Certain things have come to our attention.”
“By ‘things’ do you mean certain possible infractions?” They couldn’t have been happy with the firewalls she breached while sending the ghost on a few wild goose chases.
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Let’s just go in and sort it out.”
“No sir. I have plans.” She sent a questioning glance toward Carson, got the slight nod in return. “Do you have plans?”
“Yes. At the office,” he said, scowling as paramedics rolled Bakr away.
“Consider your plans changed. If you want to talk to me, it will have to be after dinner with the Morris family. His grandma is delightful. I think she’d like you.”
“She makes the best red velvet cake in the county,” Carson added.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Nichols. Live a little.”
“Give me the address, I’ll think about it while I get everyone here sorted out.”
“That’s the spirit.” Eva patted his shoulder. “We’ll tell her to expect you.”
“Ms. Battaglia.” Abraham paused, signaling Nichols to go on, but the agent waited. Taking Eva’s hand in his he said, “I owe you more than can ever be repaid. Thank you.”
She couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. No matter the shady sidelines this man dealt with, she respected him and his hard fight to keep the balance. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Through greed and murder, his brother had torn apart the Morcos family and nearly crippled the business. But he was still a brother.
It was impossible to understand the depth of his shock and despair, knowing his brother hated him enough to kill.
“My life is restored. Truly. As is my hope. My family will be grateful.”
