Serve ‘N’ Protect by Tee O’Fallon
Chapter Nine
Just when Cassidy thought Markus might have a human side to his stoic, hardcore personality, he morphed right back into cop mode.
His forearm muscles flexed as he gripped the phone tighter. “Kade, whatya got?”
For the next few minutes, she tried listening in but couldn’t quite make out what Markus’s friend was saying. Judging from the way his jaw clenched repeatedly and his dark eyes narrowed with frustration, whatever it was, it wasn’t good news.
“Thanks,” he said finally. “I’ll wait for the video.” He ended the call and slapped the phone on the table.
“Bad news?” she asked.
He began tapping his fingers on the phone’s cover, as if he had a lot of energy to release and nowhere to focus it. “There are two cameras facing the parking lot where we were shot at, one on each corner of the building. One of them wasn’t aimed in the right direction. The other camera picked up the shooter running away, but missed his face, and whatever vehicle he used was out of range.”
Now she understood his disappointment. “Did anyone else see anything?”
“No. Matt spoke with the PD and gave them some kind of story. Except for us, there was no one in the parking lot. That’s the only good news. A few people near the main entrance heard the shots, but that’s about it.”
“If the hospital cameras can’t help, what video were you talking about?”
“The video outside the Saudi party.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to go through it again, just in case. We’re missing something. I just don’t know what or when.”
“It would give you something to do while you’re stuck here, and you never know. Something new might pop out at you.” It often did for her when she was crunching audit numbers that didn’t initially add up.
He watched her rub her leg. “Does your leg still hurt a lot?”
“Yeah, but pain I’ll take.” Automatically, her hands went to the tops of her thighs, feeling the raised ridge of scar tissue beneath the denim of her jeans. “They told me I’d never walk again, so walking at all is an achievement.” Too bad Hugh hadn’t stuck around long enough to see her walk. And when would the mere mention of his name stop tearing off jagged, bloody strips of her heart?
Wanting desperately to change the direction of her thoughts, she rose and stacked their plates, limping as she took them to the counter.
“I could help you while I’m here,” Markus said. “When I was in the military, I was a certified fitness instructor, which is a fancy title for someone who works out a lot and knows how to get in shape. I can help with rehabbing and deep tissue massage to get better circulation back into your muscles.”
Her heart sank as she recalled her last disappointing physical therapy session. “It wouldn’t change anything.” She’d stopped going to PT because she’d maxed out and wasn’t making progress. Doing it again with the same outcome would only make her more depressed. She grabbed her cane, leaning on it for support and realizing how sick of the damn thing she was. “This is as good as it gets, and I’m okay with that.” Aside from limping around for the rest of her life with a piece of metal as her BFF.
“Are you really?” Markus arched a brow, giving her the impression that he didn’t believe her any more than she believed it herself. “What did you used to do that you can’t anymore?”
So much. “Cycling, running, volleyball.” Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how much she missed the game. “I was a pretty good setter in college. I haven’t competed in ages, but I used to coach a girls’ volleyball team. I don’t know if I can manage that anymore.” She still hadn’t scrounged up the courage to make that call. Because I don’t want to. Unrealistic though it was, she’d harbored a small sense of hope that she’d be better enough by now to keep coaching. But a coach who couldn’t show the girls what to do was only being selfish. Stepping aside was the right thing to do.
“Was that a paid job?”
“No, it was a volunteer position.” One that satisfied her craving for volleyball and her love of working with the girls. Hopefully, not all men were like Hugh, unwilling or incapable of loving someone with a debilitating and permanent injury. If they were, then she had to face the likelihood of never getting married and having children. Being with other people’s kids could very well be as close as she’d get to motherhood.
“Sounds like you give a lot of your time to others,” he said. “Maybe it’s time you focused on yourself. Did you know John has a gym in his basement? Everything’s brand-new, top of the line.”
She hadn’t known that. What other secrets was John keeping? “Then you’ll be all set, as soon as you’re able to work out again.”
“I will use the gym. Eventually. But I wasn’t talking about me.” He pointed a finger at her. “I was talking about you. C’mon.”
He stood, grimacing from the effort, then took her hand and led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway, moving slowly so she and her trusty cane could keep up. Ghost padded silently behind them. Markus’s hand was big and warm, completely engulfing hers. They continued to a closed door that he opened then flipped on a light switch.
“You okay with stairs?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Kind of. Stairs were a bitch, but unless she wanted to sack out on her living room sofa for the rest of her life, she had no choice but to struggle with the stairs.
Minutes later, she was staring at an awesome gym, so awesome she was rendered speechless.
The entire basement was one giant square with mirrored walls and wall-to-wall black rubber floor mats. One side of the gym was taken up by a cross trainer, treadmill, and bicycle. Another side had racks of barbells and dumbbells. Every other inch of floor space was covered with all kinds of circuit training equipment. Even the ceiling was decked out with speakers in every corner.
Ghost meandered around the equipment, sniffing the rubber mats as he went.
“Wow.” She limped to the rack of barbells, running her fingers over the shiny metal bars. “John must have had all this equipment delivered when I wasn’t home. It’s impressive.”
“Yeah,” Markus agreed.
The corners of his mouth threatened to creep up into an actual smile but seemed to hold back. She wondered if, for him, this was the closest he ever got to one.
She moved on to the treadmill that looked, as Markus had said, top of the line. John had spared no expense. “What exactly did you have in mind for me?”
Markus lowered to one of several padded benches. “To start with, a regular regimen of stretching and deep tissue massage. After that, a few minutes every day on the bike, the treadmill. Even walking outside would help. Eventually, we’ll get to the weights and machines and get some meat back on your legs.”
It all sounded good, but… “What makes you think you can accomplish what a trained physical therapist couldn’t?”
Markus didn’t hesitate. “Determination, research, and lots of semper fi.”
Cassidy laughed softly. “I figured you were in the marines with John.” She dipped her gaze to the insignia on his sweatshirt, and he nodded. “How long were you in?”
“Eight years, two tours.”
“After that?” she asked, finding herself wanting to know more about him. Other than the fact that someone was still trying to murder him, she knew next to nothing about the man.
“After that, I got picked up by the Secret Service and got into the K-9 unit.” He stroked his big hand along Ghost’s back.
He certainly loved his dog, and Ghost adored him right back. The two of them seemed like a perfect team. “What did you mean when you said ‘determination, research, and lots of semper fi’?”
“Determination, as in, I won’t give up on you the way your therapist obviously did. Otherwise, you’d still be making progress instead of flatlining. Research, as in, your therapist didn’t do any. Seems to me that whoever you were working with didn’t dig deep enough into the physiology behind your injuries to know what the hell they were doing. If they don’t know what they’re dealing with, there’s no way they can instruct you on what to do to help yourself.”
Okay, so he’d astutely touched on the very things she’d been wondering about herself. “And the semper fi part?”
“Semper fidelis means ‘always faithful.’ The phrase symbolizes the lifelong commitment by every marine to the Corps. When I make a commitment to help you, I won’t stop until I’ve done just that. I’ll help you to identify your goals and reach those goals. If you want to walk without a limp, you will. If you want to run, cycle, play volleyball again, with my help, you can do it. But not without determination of your own, and trust. You have to trust me.”
“Very philosophical. In other words, I have to put myself in your hands.” Hands that were, at the moment, stroking his dog’s back with motions she could only describe as reverent, tender, and loving.
His dark gaze didn’t leave hers, and she didn’t doubt that he meant every word. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but it all sounded like pie in the sky, a miracle that would never happen. But he was right. If she didn’t try again, it would never happen. And she didn’t want to waste any more time and effort with her therapist.
Correction. Her former therapist.
“You’re hired.” She was rewarded with that subtle lifting thing he did with his lips. As before, not a full smile by any stretch. One day, she’d get him to smile, fully, with teeth showing and everything. “When do we start?”
“Today.” He stood and headed for the stairs with Ghost on his heels. “Go home and change into workout clothes. Meet me back here, and bring your medical file so I can review it.”
As she followed slowly up the stairs behind him, renewed hope blossomed inside her. What if one day she really could climb the stairs without a cane and do things without the constant pain and discomfort she’d become accustomed to in nearly every facet of her life?
Even with his injury, she couldn’t keep up with Markus. He and Ghost waited patiently and courteously at the top of the stairs. Hugh never would have waited for her.
By the time she reached him, she was panting like a dog. He held out his hand and she took it, again feeling his warm, solid strength as he helped her take the last step into the hallway. She teetered, pressing her hand against his chest for balance.
“I’ve got you.” With his other hand, he steadied her at her waist.
Her stomach muscles quivered from the contact, a not unpleasant feeling. Not. At. All. During their trek from the house and into her bug, their bodies had touched so many times she’d lost count. This was on a whole other level.
The words deep tissue massage flashed in her mind. That meant she’d have to get used to having Markus’s hands on her body.
“Th-thanks.” A shiver of awareness crept up her spine, something she hadn’t experienced since—don’t say it, don’t even think his name again—Hugh. Dammit.
Outside, a car door slammed, followed by two more slamming shut.
Uttering a savage groan under his breath, Markus leaned down, grunting as he pulled up the cuff of his jeans and yanked a gun from a holster she hadn’t known he was wearing. A fierce, grim mask fell over his face. He gripped the gun in two hands, aiming the muzzle to the floor as he edged quickly to the door. The heady awareness she’d felt only moments ago was quickly replaced by a frosty chill.
This was Markus in full warrior mode.
Using the muzzle of the gun, he moved the sheer curtain aside to peer through the glass. Ghost now stood beside him, lowering his head and loosing a menacing growl from the back of his throat. The two of them were so in sync it was eerie.
Cassidy clumped closer, her heart pounding faster but no longer from her trek up the basement stairs. Whatever he was looking at was enough to make Markus’s eyes glow with a dangerous light and turn his expression to stone.
“What is it?” She rested her hand on his back, trying to look around his big body.
“Stay behind me,” he snapped. Voices filtered through from outside. “Two men and a woman.”
Uh-oh. She had a bad feeling. Not that Markus had anything to be worried about. She, on the other hand… “What kind of cars did they come in?”
“A red Honda Prius and a silver Camry.”
Cassidy groaned. “You can stand down, Super Cop. I know who they are.”
“Who are they?”
The last people she wanted to see right now. One of them seemed to drop by nearly every day, but Sundays were supposed to be sacred, a day to herself. “My family.”