Page 9 of Lethal Justice

Chapter Five

As Malco drovedown the long narrow driveway to his secluded home, he wondered what Frida would make of the place he called home. It was a two-story structure with a modern, sleek design. He’d designed most of it himself with the help of a local architect. But it wasn’t the design he was unsure of; it was the questions she might have when she saw the security features on the property.

Even surrounded by the likes of Shane and Nick, he realized his security measures were, to say the least, excessive. He knew it, but he didn’t care. He’d never be caught unawares again. The thought made him frown as memories assailed him for a second before he shut them down.

An electric fence that was almost invisible to the naked eye ran the entire circumference of the property line. Motion detectors and lights picking up anything heavier than a rabbit made sure he was always aware.

People who didn’t know better would assume he was a prepper, but that wasn’t the case. He just wanted to know that his home, his haven, was secure from the predators that would attack given a chance.

He stopped the car and turned to find Frida fast asleep in the passenger seat. Her face was relaxed in rest, and he noticed the lines of exhaustion on her exotically beautiful features. She really was exquisite to look at, the calm controlled lawyer, the fiercely independent woman, the caring employer, all of them intrigued Malco more than he cared to admit.

He debated whether to wake her or carry her inside and decided that as she struggled to sleep, it was wise to let her while she could. He reached in and lifted her sleeping form from the car, his lips curving into a smile when she nestled closer to his chest and sighed in her sleep.

Adjusting her weight, he carried her to the side door leading to the garage and hit the opener to turn off the alarm. Her weight was negligible in his arms as he opened the door and secured it again, before walking up the stairs to the spare bedroom, taking care not to jostle the sleeping woman in his arms.

The temptation to take her to his room to see all her gorgeous silky hair splayed across his pillow was strong, but he resisted. If the woman in his arms ever ended up in his bed, it would be because she didn’t want to be anywhere else, not because he had tricked her. He was, however, going to do everything in his power to make sure that happened though, because the connection they’d developed in the last twenty-four hours was not something to be denied or rushed.

Malco lay her on the guest bedroom’s bed and bent down to gently tug off her shoes, taking care not to hurt her abused feet. Satisfied the bandages were clean, he pulled the cover over her and left the room quietly, closing the door but leaving enough of a gap that when she woke, she wouldn’t be too disoriented.

Moving back down the stairs, he went outside and drove the car around the side to the garage and parked inside. Making sure the house was once again secure, Malco headed to his room and sat on the queen-sized bed. The cotton of the sheet was cool on his skin as he stripped to his boxers and removed his prosthetic, massaging the aching limb and checking for any signs of skin breakdown. Satisfied all was as okay as it ever would be, he lay on his back and tucked his arm behind his head.

Today had unwittingly opened a lot of old wounds for him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he absolutely wanted to help Frida with this case. On the other, he was being faced with demons which had almost destroyed him. Could he go there again and come out with his soul intact, or would the scars that he lived with every day destroy the peace he had found at Alliance?

He didn’t know, but a reckoning was coming, he felt it in his bones as if it were a living and breathing thing. Frida’s mysterious mission was a sure sign a storm was skittering through the underbelly of the gang world, and this one might very well destroy the city he loved and the people he cared about—the only family he had left now. Pain tightened his chest at the thought, and he buried it down, not willing to allow it room to hurt him again. His careful control was a way for him to establish peace of mind.

His mind went to the woman in the room next door, and he thought of her bravery, her grit and determination to do the right thing, and he knew he’d stand beside her in this fight. He owed it to his family. He owed it to the young men he worked with every week at the gym as they fought to escape the gang life that was embedded into their lives at every turn, threatening to suck them into the path that would only end their lives prematurely.

He owed it to Jay; his older brother, the person he’d looked up to, had followed and worshipped and, ultimately, the brother he couldn’t save.

* * *

Malco sat up with a jerk,his ears cocked for the sound that woke him. He stilled, listening over the familiar noises of the house for it to come again. When it did, he moved, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Urgently needing to get to the source of the noise.

A keening, heartbreaking sob came from the room where Frida slept. As he grabbed for his leg, slipping the limb on with practiced ease, he resented the extra seconds it took, hating that he couldn’t get to her faster, yet knowing he was more use to her with two working legs.

The sound came again as he pushed open her bedroom door, the sun from the corridor skylight casting light across the room and illuminating her form. Frida was fast asleep on her back; her hair spread wildly around her; her covers tangled at her feet as if she’d been restless in her sleep.

Malco moved closer and saw the wetness from the tears she was shedding in her sleep on her cheeks.

Pain and relief squeezed his chest as he realized she was in the throes of a nightmare. Sitting gently on the bed beside her, he wondered what to do. Wake her and risk embarrassing the proud woman or leave her to face this torment alone? Something about leaving her to face any kind of pain alone didn’t sit well with him.

Again, the desire to protect her and stand between her and anything that wanted to hurt her was strong. Reaching out a hand, he stroked the soft hair from her face and murmured reassurances. Her face turned into his touch, and he wiped the delicate warm skin of her face. From her brow to her chin, he kept going as he spoke.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” His words or his touch, perhaps both, eased her. The racing pulse beneath his fingers and the breathy sounds of fear stilled until she was once again relaxed, her breathing deep and peaceful.

Malco sat for a second taking her in, wondering at the pain she’d witnessed that haunted her in her sleep. Perhaps that was the reason she didn’t sleep well? Had they more in common than he knew? Were they both nursing a pain that couldn’t be changed?

Standing, Malco backed away, easing the door almost closed before heading to his room to shower and dress. He wouldn’t sleep again now. Looking at the clock, he noticed he’d had three hours straight, which was good for him.

Once he had showered and dressed for the day in his usual denim jeans and dark polo top, he moved to the door in the laundry room that led to the back garden. He needed to check the grounds. This had become a morning ritual he enjoyed. Walking the perimeter of his slice of heaven. Listening to the birds as they woke, seeing the sun make its magnificent ascent from the darkness as it spilled color and warmth over this part of the world.

He checked the lines and sensors and noted they were all as they should be. The silence, except for that of nature, spoke to him. Living as he had and then being in the army, peace and quiet had not been something that was readily available. Now though, he relished his quiet time at home.

He loved work and his friends, but his home was his haven, and he looked at it once again with a sense of pride and guilt. Pride that he had built this, he had succeeded. The guilt, though, never seemed far away, and he lived with that as his penance. It was his burden to carry for the mistakes he’d made. He tried to make amends as best he could, working with young teens at the Youth Center to help them find a way out of the lives that circumstance was trying to force them into. It would never wipe his debt clean, though, and nor should it. Shaking off his thoughts, he moved back toward the house. At six am, it was still early, but the heat of the Miami sun was already making itself known.

Pushing start on the coffee pot, Malco took eggs, peppers, cheese, sausage, and spinach from the fridge. He had no idea what Frida liked, but if he made his usual and some toast and fruit, he should get somewhere near. He enjoyed cooking, he was no MasterChef, but simple food was all he needed and having someone to cook for felt good.

He began to sing as he cooked. It was not something he did often or in public, but he enjoyed signing; it made him happy, and he wanted to be happy. To find what King and Syd had, or Mason with Cleo. He wanted to share his life with someone, not just move from one meaningless fuck to the next. His mind automatically flew to Frida, and he wondered if she was single. She’d never mentioned a husband or boyfriend, perhaps the pull he felt to her could be more?

Malco scoffed. What was he doing thinking about love when the most important thing right now was to keep her safe and stop this impending gang war he sensed was coming? That was his mission, not love. He vowed not to make the same mistakes he’d made last time something this important was put on him. The ache in his leg reminded him to keep focus no matter what.