Blood Kills, Nanci Rathbun [best books to read for self improvement TXT] 📗

you don’t mind, I need a restorative cup of tea.”

Spider popped his spiky head around the doorframe. “Bobbie’s brewing it right now,” he said. “Querida, I’ll carry Joey to bed.”

“No, Len. He must see me. He must know I am here, or he will wake with nightmares.” She slipped away, and in moments, we heard Joey say, “Mommy” in a tiny voice.

Aunt Terry twined her arm with mine and guided me to the stairs.

Chapter 56

The longest road out is the shortest road home.

Irish Proverb

Bobbie and Bram sat at the kitchen table, drinking delicious-smelling coffee and munching from a plate of Magda’s homemade cookies. In moments, Spider joined us and poured tea for me and Aunt Terry.

I found it strangely uncomfortable to look him and Bram in the eyes. They’d been prepared and ready to kill. Knowing their special-ops backgrounds, I supposed that reality had always been in my head, but tonight I witnessed firsthand what it meant. And remembering the ferocity of my response after tossing the flash-bangs, how could I fail to acknowledge my own deep rage?

As if he could read my thoughts, Bram spoke, his tone matter-of-fact. “You went through a lot tonight, Angie.”

After a long silence, I looked at him. “Yes, I did. But… that’s past. I’m grateful that you arrived when you did. Artur would never stop coming, never stop seeking what we’d found, even though we don’t understand why.”

I pictured Spider’s precious little children or his wife, used as collateral to force us to hand over what Artur wanted. For that matter, my kids or grandkids could fill that same function, I realized with a shock. Or Aunt Terry. Or Papa—although I pitied the man who tried to take out that tough old Don. And Debby, always looking over her shoulder? And Rebecca? Whenever I heard the word “evil,” I would always see Artur’s face.

“You did the right thing,” I told Spider and Bram. “It might have been a bloodbath.”

“To be honest, Angie, if you hadn’t disabled them, it would have been.” Spider’s tone mirrored Bram’s, as if he were observing how nice the weather would be tomorrow.

Wanting to avoid his reality, I asked, “What’s next?”

“I had a word with the SWAT team leader,” Spider told us. “Pointed him to the FBI and the killing in Illinois. Of course, we can’t know for sure that Artur is involved, but I’d bet my last dollar that the Feds already have him on a watch list. We’ll have to see how it plays out.” He bit into a cookie.

“If they decide to tell us,” Bram said.

“Did you give Mick’s samples to the SWAT team?” I asked. “I can send them a copy of his note.”

“Not their area of expertise,” Spider responded.

“Then I’ll let Wukowski handle it,” I told him. “Once the flames stop shooting out of his nose, that is.”

Bobbie snorted. “I’ll tell him how you handled yourself tonight. He’ll be too scared to take you on.”

“You were a warrior, Angie.” Bram lifted his coffee cup and the other two followed.

From upstairs, Magdalena called softly down. “Take cookies home with you. That will mellow him. It always works with Len.”

Tears started to form, but I blinked them back.

With a glance at Bobbie, Bram said, “It’s been a long, rough night. Ready to head out? I’ll drop you at your car and take Terry and Angie home.”

Home. Shelter. Safety. Such simple words, but with so much power.

Chapter 57

The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

Bram insisted on following me upstairs to my front door to “secure the premises.” We entered and he proceeded down the hallway, weapon at the low ready, as I hung my jacket in the coat closet.

“Wukowski, I almost shot your damn head off,” I heard him growl from the living room.

“Same for you, York.” Wukowski’s voice was a deep bass.

I paced into the room, looking from one man to the other. “I’m strung so tight that I can’t stand myself. And tired beyond belief. The last thing I need is a face-off between you two.” Approaching Bram, I placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and said, “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

He shot a stern look at Wukowski and said, “Helluva night. Don’t make it worse.” Without another word, he let himself out.

Wukowski laid his gun on the coffee table and followed Bram.

I heard the lock and dead bolt slide into place before he came back to me. Please don’t tell me all the reasons I didn’t belong in that situation, I thought.

With his hands on my shoulders, he stooped down and examined me. “You’re all done in, kochana. There’s a hot bath waiting for you and a glass of wine next to it.” He kissed me gently and aimed me toward the en suite.

I woke when the water lapped over my chin. Wukowski must’ve heard me sputter, because he helped me up, wrapped me in a warm towel, and rubbed me dry. Then he pulled a soft flannel gown over my head.

I felt as cherished as a child at bedtime. This isn’t what I expected, I thought. With a yawn, I decided to simply enjoy the love that enfolded me like that deliciously warm towel.

In bed together for the first time in over—good Lord, I couldn’t remember how many days we’d been apart!—I laid my head on his shoulder and felt his arms encircle me.

You almost lost all this tonight, I told myself, recalling my foolish insistence on autonomy in the face of my increasing love for this good, albeit difficult, man. What have you been so afraid of? Before I could form an answer, I was asleep.

Chapter 58

Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven.

Tryon Edwards

I woke first, spooned by Wukowski’s body, and tried to slide out of bed without waking him, but in seconds it was obvious that he was no longer