Freaks Under Fire (27 page)

“Am I to take it those ‘things’ include this poor boy and the puppy you’ve kidnapped?” Sally asked.

“I
rescued
them.” Marg shifted as though trying to get comfortable on her perch on the edge of the desk. She sounded mega-pissed. “From a bunch of weapon-toting idiots, I might add. If you bothered to ask Tyler, I’m sure he’d rather be here with us right now, than being interrogated by a bunch of clumsy thugs.”

Sally spared him a sympathetic glance as she addressed her comment to Marg. “Since I know exactly how forceful you can be when you’ve got the bit between your teeth, I’m sure Tyler would rather nothing of the sort. Would you, dear?”

When Tyler didn’t respond, she sighed, and her gaze swiveled back to Marg’s ribcage. “You aren’t the most forthcoming person when it comes to divulging necessary information, you know, Marg. When are you going learn you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar?” She applied one last piece of tape to hold the dressing in place. “There. All done.”

Marg shrugged into the loose shirt Sally held out, and buttoned it overtop her crop top. “Spare me the lecture.”

But Sally wasn’t going to let her off easy. “If you’d simply introduced yourself and
asked
for her help, rather than kidnapping her boyfriend and her puppy, I’m sure she’d have been willing. Now, all you’ve done is—”

“Piss me off.”

These fighting words were flung at Marg as door into the study crashed inward, provoking a squeal from Sally, and a startled bark from Brum. The figure who appeared in the doorway had a limp body cradled in her arms, and an expression on her face that promised a world of hurt.

“Oh my.” Sally pressed both hands to her lips, the epitome of horrified. “What happened to Sam? Is he all right?”

Tyler dragged his gaze from the awe-inspiring sight his girlfriend presented to check on Marg… who had leaped to her feet and was reaching for the weapon Tyler knew was tucked in the waistband of her pants.

“She has a gun!” he yelled, struggling to keep hold of the squirming bundle of barking puppy, who didn’t understand why he couldn’t head over and greet his mistress as she deserved.

“Marg,’ Sally snapped. “Put away that gun right now before someone else gets hurt! This has gone far enough.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Jay said. “There’s plenty farther this can go. Tyler, please bring Brum and come stand behind me.” When he hesitated, she pierced him with a glare that could have melted steel. “Now.”

“Stay there, Tyler.” Marg aimed her weapon at Jay, and Tyler froze. “Hand Sam over right now and I won’t shoot you,” she said to Jay.

Jay merely laughed, though Tyler noted her eyes remained cold and watchful. “Go ahead,” she said. “Find out how many rounds it takes to bring me down. And hope like hell you’re as good a shot as you think you are.” She tossed Sam a couple of inches in the air and caught him again, demonstrating her strength. “This nice young man is merely unconscious at the moment. But it’d be a crying shame if he took one of the bullets you meant for me.”

Sally turned to Marg, eyes flashing. “Marguerite Daisy Danvers, if you shoot anyone in this room—accidentally or intentionally—I swear I’ll never speak to you again. Put away the damn gun!”

Ouch. Tyler absorbed Mar’s murderous expression. His eyes felt like they were bugging out of his head. She wasn’t at all impressed about being chastised like a naughty kid caught doing mischief. He bit his cheek to stop the insane desire to laugh. God. She looked like she could strangle Sally right now. And…
Marguerite
Daisy?
Seriously? Tyler had never encountered anyone who suited her name less. No wonder she’d turned into such a badass, what with that name to live down.

Marg turned her focus solely on Jay, the expression revealing her teeth and reminding Tyler uncomfortably of a wolf. Well, Marg was in for a big surprise, ’cause if anyone was gonna eat someone it was gonna be Jay doing the eating, with Marg as the appetizer. “Hand Sam over and we’ll talk,” Marg said.

Jay cocked one brow and stared Marg down. “You want Sam? Very well. I’m happy to oblige.” And she tossed the unconscious man straight at Marg.

Marg, faced with an airborne body heading right for her, did the sensible thing by dropping her weapon and bracing herself to try and catch Sam. While she was distracted, Tyler wrapped his arms around Brum and made a beeline for Jay, who reached out and plucked him off his feet, swinging him so that he landed behind her, shielded by her body.

He dampened his urge to be the one doing the protecting. A bullet or three wouldn’t even slow Jay down, whereas he’d end up a bloody, whimpering mess on the floor. Or dead. The best thing he could do to help Jay was to stay out of the damn way.

“Oooh, nice job, Marg,” Tyler heard Sally say. “You broke his fall.” He peeped over Jay’s shoulder in time to see Sally dart in to retrieve Marg’s weapon, and expertly eject the clip.

That was… unexpected. Sally didn’t appear the kind of woman who knew her way around weapons.

The clip disappeared into Sally’s apron pocket. The weapon, she tossed to Jay, who caught it and shoved it down the back of her pants.

Tyler’s gaze shot to Marg. Unsurprisingly, she’d gone down beneath the deadweight of the man’s limp body slamming into hers. She rolled him off her and knelt beside his prone form, pressing two fingers to his throat to check his pulse. “If that fall injured him—”

“You’ll only have yourself to blame,” Jay said.

“She’s right, Marg,” Sally piped up. “You didn’t exactly handle that very well. And that wound of yours will need re-taping, too.” She smiled brightly at Jay. “I’m sure Sam will be fine, but I’d appreciate you checking to make sure. He had no part in this debacle, after all. He’s Bea’s caregiver—and a wonderful one at that.” She waved a hand. “Your enhanced senses should be able to detect any fractures and such, correct?”

Jay nodded, and stalked over to crouch beside the unconscious man. “He’s fine. Although Marg is very lean, with below-average body fat for her height, she made an excellent cushion. Sam may have a headache when he wakes up but it’ll pass. I took extreme care both with where I hit him, and how much force I used.”

“I’m sure you did, dear,” Sally said with a perfectly straight face.

Tyler inhaled a deep breath and allowed the tension to drain from his muscles. Looked like they’d all weathered the crisis for now.

Jay lifted Sam from the floor and glanced around the room. Tyler guessed she was searching for the best place to leave him to recover.

“One of the sofas in the dayroom off the kitchen might be the best option,” Sally said. “So we can keep an eye on him. If you’ll follow me, dear, we’ll get Sam settled and then I’ll make everyone breakfast. I hope you all like waffles?” And with that, she swept from the study.

Jay paused as she passed Tyler. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

“Me, too.” He leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he murmured.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, as though savoring his kiss. When she opened them again she said, “You have ten minutes. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

He jerked his chin at Marg. “This won’t take long.”

Jay nodded, and carried Sam from the room.

Brum gave a mournful “Arrrroooo,” and Tyler set him on the floor to scamper after Jay. He eyed Marg, who sat on the floor of the study, arms wrapped around her knees, looking like she was wondering how it’d all gone so terribly wrong.

Inwardly, Tyler shrugged, letting go any remnants of animosity he harbored toward Marg. He would do anything for Jay. Marg had already proven she considered Bea “family”, and would do anything to give
her
a halfway decent life. So he could hardly hold what Marg had done—using him as a pawn—against her. Plus, as Sally had guessed, he’d much prefer to be here right now than with those goons who’d shot at them.

Approaching her, he held out his hand. “Bet those ribs hurt like hell, huh? I can re-tape them for you if you’d like.”

Marg shook her head as though in disbelief, her expression wry. And then she grasped his hand. “Thanks, Tyler. No hard feelings?”

He hauled her to her feet. “No hard feelings.”

She shrugged out of her shirt while Tyler examined the contents of the first aid kit. “Here’s hoping your girlfriend feels the same way,” she muttered, “or I have the distinct feeling my ass is gonna be kicked into orbit.”

Tyler caught her gaze and grinned. “Her name’s Jay. And she’s pretty damned awesome, isn’t she?”

Marg barked a laugh. “Yeah. She certainly is.” And then her expression sobered. “I don’t care what she—Jay—does to
me
, but I hope she won’t hold what I did against Bea.”

“She won’t. Jay’s a lot of things but intentionally cruel isn’t one of them. She was already searching for Bea before you came on the scene, you know? And if she can help, she will. Besides, if those guys back in the parking building were after me, as you seem to think they were, you did save me’n Brum from falling into their clutches. That’ll count in your favor.”

“Oh, they were there for you, Tyler. Trust me on that. Things only escalated because they didn’t want me carting you off where they couldn’t keep an eye on you.”

Well, shit. Would the drama never end? He wondered whether they were the same guys who’d dug up Jay’s fake hand from the backyard. Seemed logical. At least, he couldn’t think of any other reason they’d be spying on him.

A chill raced through him, raising the fine hairs on his nape. If they’d been watching
him
, chances were they’d put people on his parents, too. Maybe even Caro. He finished re-taping the wound and dumped the first aid detritus in the trash bin. “I have to let Jay know what went down.”

“Tell her I’ll join her in a few minutes,” Marg said, adjusting her clothing and rolling her shoulders. “I can provide descriptions that might help her identify them, but first I have to check on Bea. I had my hands full with you and Brum this morning, so I didn’t stop by to see her. And if, as I suspect happened, Jay grabbed Sam when he went in with Bea’s breakfast, Bea will need reassurance that Sam’s okay.”

Tyler gulped, torn. He wanted to be with Jay, wanted nothing more than to dog her heels like Brum, and not let her out of his sight again. He needed to sit down with her and brainstorm where to go from here—come up with a plan to keep everyone he loved safe. But Bea was the reason this whole mess with Marg had happened in the first place. She was Jay’s
sister
, her twin, created from the same genetic material that had spawned the girl Tyler loved. Bea was family, too. And he couldn’t bear the thought of her lying there, helpless, wondering—if she was capable of wondering—what had happened to someone she cared about.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Everything else can wait until we know Bea’s okay.”

Marg smiled at him, her usually cold gray eyes silvering with genuine warmth. “You’re a good kid, Tyler.” Quick as a flash, she grabbed him round the neck and gently scrubbed her fist over his skull, mussing his hair.

It was an affectionate, sisterly gesture, and so Tyler ducked from her grip and responded in a brotherly fashion. “Touch the hair again and I’ll shave off your eyebrows while you’re sleeping.”

His retort provoked a snort. “Try it and I’ll tie you up and slather you in meat sauce,” she countered, “and leave you for Brum to use as a chew toy.”

Genuine laughter burst from him. “You win. Let’s go check on Bea before Jay comes looking for me.”

He trailed Marg through the house, and hovered in the doorway when she entered the bedroom. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to barge into Bea’s room uninvited.

Marg clicked her fingers. “Come on in, Tyler.”

He watched Marg approach the bed, and perch on the edge of the mattress. Her gaze was fixed on Bea’s face. And her expression, when she reached over to brush a lock of Bea’s hair back from her forehead, was difficult to define. Could an expression be both soft and hard at the same time? Soft with something akin to the love a parent had for their child, yet hard with something that smacked of resolve—like Marg had made a personal vow that whatever was defective in Bea would be fixed, and she wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

“Bea,” Marg said, never taking her gaze from the girl’s face. “This is Tyler.”

He sidled sideways where Bea could see him better. Except, there was no way Bea was capable of seeing anything right now, because there was nobody home behind that vacant stare that was currently fixed on some point on the ceiling.

God. He suppressed the urge to shudder. She looked so much like a younger version of Jay that it was like being catapulted into some nightmarish place where it was
Jay
lying there in that bed—a Jay who had been irreversibly damaged, and was incapable of movement, speech or thought. And it was all he could do to fix a weak smile on his face and muster the wherewithal to say, “Hi, Bea. Nice to meet you.”

“You might have met Tyler’s girlfriend this morning,” Marg was saying, “when Sam brought you breakfast? Well, her name is Jay. And she was probably a bit angry about something I did, so she might have taken some of her anger out on Sam. But that’s all sorted now, and Sam’s gonna be just fine, so there’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?”

Tyler averted his gaze from Bea’s too-still, perfect face and spotted something propped on the dresser. A note.

Grateful for the distraction, he leaned over to grab it and handed it to Marg.

“What’s this?” Marg unfolded the note and scanned the contents. “Oh,” she said, and ducked her head, hiding her expression as she offered the note to Tyler.

To Whom It May Concern
, he read.

Regrettably, Bea’s breakfast was interrupted. However, please rest assured that I have explained the necessity for the interruption to Bea, and fed her breakfast. Whatever animosity I harbor toward those responsible for the abduction of my boyfriend and my puppy, will not affect Bea. My intentions, from the moment I learned of her existence, have always been to help her in any way I can.

Yours,

Jay Smith.