Authors: Casey Clipper
"Courtney!" Darren screamed, running from room to room.
The television had been left on. Something never done when they went out.
Darren rushed to the kitchen and stopped. Lying alone on the island was Court's cell. He approached it warily, as if maybe the phone wasn't real
. He opened the phone and found Derrick's text had been read.
"She got your text." Darren wheeled around to find his brother close behind him.
Darren took off upstairs and prayed his wife wasn't ill.
"Courtney
," he screamed again. Panic set in. His wife would not disappear when she knew he would lose his mind not knowing what where she was.
When he bolted into the empty bedroom, the distinct scent of a shower and her perfume lingered in the air. He checked every spare bedroom in the house.
Nothing.
He met Derrick
in the hallway just as Jack and Carl charged through the front door. Derrick held Courtney's purse in his hand.
"It was in the dining room."
"What the fuck," Darren bellowed. Something was truly wrong. His world tilted and went dizzy. Derrick and Jack grabbed him and led him to the sofa.
"Don't tell me someone got to her. Jesus, don't tell me," Darren choked.
"No way, Boss. No one is that stupid," Carl reassured him.
"Carl's right. No one would come after Courtney," Jack agreed. "It has to be something else."
Derrick left his side and paced the hallway, phone attached to his ear. He started to place calls to all connections he had in his pocket. They couldn't officially call the police, she has been missing for only a couple of hours, but he made calls to those officers on Darren’s payroll.
Darren's phone rang. He didn't look at the ID. "Courtney?"
"It's Sean, did you find her?" he spouted.
"No, we came home and her phone and purse are here. The TV was on and the door was unlocked," Darren answered.
Sean was quiet for a moment. "I'll get there as soon as I can. I'll also have someone here call the hospitals."
Sean hung up before Darren could tell him no, he would handle finding his wife. Where the hell was his Courtney?
Over the next few hours the Murphy home turned into a central post. All of Darren's men were sent out in search o
f his wife. Her car sat untouched in the garage, her keys in her purse along with money, credit cards, and driver’s license. All those items said wherever she went it wasn't by choice.
Sean
called all the local hospitals and the officers on the Murphy payroll reported no signs of Courtney. All fronts came up empty. Derrick spent almost the entire time on his phone. Still nothing.
Both men paced, snapping at their men or barking orders. Sean showed up in scrubs but needed to return to the hospital an hour later. His
only consolation was that Daren and Derrick were like two rabid animals on the hunt. There was nothing he could do to add to what was already being taken care of.
It was as if Courtney dropped off the face of the earth.
Darren slammed his hand down on the kitchen island. "How could she have just disappeared? How is that possible?"
Derrick paced the kitchen on his cell, speaking in a low tone, when he bellowed, "She's where
?"
"What? Where is she? Did you find her?" Darren was on top of his brother.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes." Derrick disconnected the call and spun to face his brother. Jack, Carl, and a few other men rushed into the room. "She's downtown at the federal building. In custody."
The room went eerily silent. The temperature in the room plummeted.
"I'm going to kill him," Darren fiercely vowed.
***
Courtney
Hours
Courtney had sat in an interrogation room. She had been given some water and been allowed to use the restroom, but other than that, no one came in to see her. She had laid her head on the table while she sat in an uncomfortable, metal chair, without speaking. When she did speak, it was when a female agent waltzed in with the water or to take her to the rest room.
"I need to call my attorney," Courtney demanded.
The woman refused to acknowledge her.
Finally
John and David arrogantly strolled in, folders in hand. They took a seat across from her at the metal table. It was like a scene out of a bad
Law & Order
episode. She straightened her spine and shot them both a glare.
"You can't hold me here," she snapped.
"We can hold you here until your hearing for assaulting an agent," David said smugly.
She rolled her eyes.
"I want to talk to my attorney," she ordered. "I have that right."
"You do and you will, but when we're finished," John said snidely.
She cackled evilly. A side of her she didn't even know existed. Tired of these pissant games, she refused to cooperate. "I'm not saying a word until my attorney is here. Don't waste your time." She leaned forward in her chair and rested her arms on the table. She whispered, "I'm not stupid."
She sat back, crossed her arms over her chest, and cocked an eyebrow. They stared, dumbfounded. Shooting each other a considering
side-glance, John opened his mouth but a sharp knock on the door interrupted him. Another agent stuck his head into the room.
"Her attorney is here and demanding to see her. Schultz is showing him back," the man said stiffly, slamming the door closed behind him.
Her lips quirked. "It was only a matter of time before they found me."
Another sharp knock and the door flew open. Derrick brushed past the agent and stopped dead when he took in the sight of her. His eyes blazed ferociously. Three long strides towards her, his right hand came up and grasped her chin, examining the damage. Did she look that bad?
"Did they do this to you?" he asked, his restraint undoubtedly held by a thread.
She nodded. "When they cuffed me, they manhandled me, throwing me against the brick of the house."
He searched her eyes with a look she'd never seen before. Relief? Anger? Love? Revenge? All of the above? She wasn't sure.
"What is she being held for?" he ran his thumb over her split lip.
"Assaulting an agent," David answered.
Derrick scoffed, released his grip,
and then took a seat next to her. "And what could she have possibly done to you when you were obviously on her property without a warrant and threw
her
up against brick walls?"
"She slapped Agent Marshall," David said. "All we did was come by to ask her a few questions. We hoped she could help us but she refused."
"She doesn't have to answer your questions,” Derrick said factually.
John pulled a picture of
a woman out of his folder and pushed it towards them. "This is Agent Jamie Little‒"
Derrick snorted.
That reaction didn't faze John. He continued, "She was last seen three months ago and we believe Darren Murphy knows where she is." He asked her directly, "Do you know her or have you seen her? She was last seen leaving to meet your husband at his bar."
They just wouldn't give up would they? They were
desperately trying to use her against her husband. Bastards.
She refused to entertain them by giving the picture a glance. She knew who the star of that picture was. The bitch’s face
was committed to memory.
"My client isn't answering any questions. Now, I've already placed a call to your supervisor for her release. You'll both be answering to your superiors," Derrick warned.
Pushing back from the table, Derrick pulled Courtney's chair out and helped her up. He grabbed her hand, picked up his briefcase, and marched to the door that another agent opened for them. Courtney couldn't keep up with him dragging her out the door.
Darren
Forty-five minutes
after they'd arrived downtown, Derrick escorted Courtney from the federal building, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. A caravan of cars waited out front. Darren jumped out of his SUV and rushed towards his wife. When he caught eye of the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on her beautiful face his vision went red.
"I am going to murder someone," he growled.
"I'm okay," she said.
He held her face in
his hands and pecked her lips. Derrick released his hold on her.
"Just take me home," she said.
He pulled her into his body and wrapped her protectively in his warmth. He placed her into the car then slid in next to her and Derrick slid in next to Darren. Jack, with Carl in the front seat, drove Courtney home.
When they walked through the safe environment of their home, Darren had taken her upstairs, showered with her, and then helped her into a tiny, red satin slip. Afterwards, he helped his wife into bed and laid with her. He held her firmly in his strong arms until she'd passed out. By nine that night Courtney had fallen sleep, exhausted.
What disturbed him most was she hadn't spoken a word about what she went through. He wasn’t worried if she had spilled
any information. Derrick said they hadn’t been able to get anything from his wife. Pride pulsed through his veins. But, the scratches on her face said the fucking agents had roughed her up. The last man who had laid a hand on Courtney paid with his life. Her silence meant she was rankled. Part of him was desperate to know what was ran through that mind of hers, but the other part feared she wanted to leave him. How the hell did he approach her?
Once Courtney was fast asleep, Darren quietly crawled out of bed and went downstairs. His brother and his men gathered in the kitchen and dining room. Soft murmurs filled the air. Stalking past his brother, who stood silently sta
ring out the sliding glass door, lost in his own thoughts, he headed downstairs to the game room.
Derrick
Out of his peripheral vision, Derrick saw his brother stalk downstairs. A few minutes later, the sounds of glass breaking, items thrown against walls, and all out war on the game room fille
d the house. Darren's men grew silent but he never flinched. Instead, he brooded over what course needed to be taken to seek out revenge for Court.
His brother had always been the emotional one of the family
. Naturally he would need to let off steam. He never knew how to handle his rage except push it outward. Derrick, on the other hand, internalized his fury. His mind ruthlessly worked over images of John Marshall and his partner tied to chairs and tortured. Silent satisfaction coursed through him knowing he'd handle the personal attack on their girl.
For a good ten minutes Darren's tantrum ricocheted throughout the house. Derrick jolted when a pair of soft arms wrapped around his waist. Courtney laid her head between the shoulders blades of his suit jacket. He placed his hands over hers, relishing in her gentleness.
Neither of them said a word while they listened to Darren’s destruction. Courtney released Derrick and stepped in front of him. He reached up and stroked her abrasions on her cheek and the cut on her lip.
“I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow to get these looked at,” Derrick
said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“For my piece of mind,” he said. He couldn't handle seeing her bruised and battered. She was too precious to be harmed.
“Okay,” she conceded. “For you.” She laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her body to keep her warm in that red silk nightie. Why
hadn't she put on a robe?
“You couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
“He woke me,” she whispered.
“Let me take you back up to bed. I’ll stay with you until he calms down,” Derrick said.
“All right.”
He led her back up to the bedroom, kicked off his shoes,
took off his jacket, and crawled on top of the blankets next to Courtney. She slid between the sheets and curled against him. She closed her eyes and he lulled her by caressing her bare shoulders and arms.
“Will he be okay?” she mumbled.
“Once he gets it out of his system,” he answered. He rhythmically stroked her arm. “Are you all right?”
“I think,” she said unsure.
“If you need someone to talk to, honey, you can always come to me. It can be between just us, I promise,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice tired and heavy.
“Anything for you, Courtney. I love you,” he said. He kissed the top of her head, taking in her vanilla and floral scent.
"I love you too,” she whispered.
Darren
Trudging upstairs, Darren was sweaty, scratched from broken glass, and exhausted. He snuck into the bedroom to grab a clean pair of boxers to take a shower. When he opened the door, he stopped at the sight of his brother holding his wife in his bed, sound asleep. Darren cleared his throat. Derrick’s eyes flew open then narrowed his direction.