Trinity Masters: Primal Passion Part 14

"Get her out of here," Gunner yelled. Price's gaze met Gunner's and a lifetime of understanding pa.s.sed between them in those split seconds. Price nodded and turned Denise, pus.h.i.+ng her up.

"No!" Denise tried to go back to Gunner, so Price lifted her, tossing her over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.

"Stop! Gunner's hurt. We have to go back! We have to go back!" Her fists beat on his back as smoke burned his eyes, but Price didn't stop. He had one goal. The limo.

The bright sunlight pierced his vision as they burst through a side door. Mercifully, the limo was in place. Price ran to the car and threw open the door.

Denise was crying. "We have to get Gunner."

He tossed her onto the seat. "I'll go back, Denise. I'll get him and we'll meet you at home."

"Please." Her voice trembled through her tears.

"I'll get him. He'll be okay. I promise." He prayed to G.o.d that was a promise he would be able to keep. Slamming the car door, he pounded on the roof twice, indicating for Roman to take off. The car pulled away from the curb quickly.

Before Price could turn to return to the library, he spotted a man lying in the middle of the street right next to where the limo had been parked. Roman.

Price started to run to his driver just as Gunner emerged through the side door.

"What the f.u.c.k?" Gunner said, hot on Price's heels.

They reached Roman together and helped the man to his feet. "That man, the Reverend. He tricked me out of the car."

Price glanced down the street in time to see the limo take a left turn, its progress hindered by the growing crowd of protestors. Price didn't bother to consider his actions. He simply took off.

Gunner was right beside him, step for step. A quick look told him his friend had indeed been shot, but given the strong, determined expression on Gunner's face, his injury didn't appear to be too bad. When they reached the corner, they spotted the limousine as it turned down a side alley.

"That alley is a dead end," Price said.

Gunner pointed to the people blocking the street. "Looks like the Reverend didn't realize his plan to distract us would cut off his only means of escape."

Price pointed to the bar on the corner. "I'll go through the bar, come at him from the side. You block the end of the alley. We'll trap him."

Price entered the bar, ignoring the bartender who asked if he wanted a drink. He walked down a long corridor, past the bathrooms and a storeroom until he found the exit that would lead him to the alley.

He slid the door open slowly, taking in the horrifying scene before him. The Reverend had his back to Price. He held Denise in front of him as he pressed a knife to her throat. Gunner tossed his gun onto the ground at Leopold's command.

Price raised his weapon but hesitated to fire. Given his angle, if the bullet should pa.s.s through Leopold, it would go into Denise. Price kept the gun trained on the Reverend's back, waiting for his moment.

Soon enough, it came.

Leopold kicked Gunner's weapon under the limo and then turned to his side as he pa.s.sed the FBI man. All the Reverend's attention was focused on Gunner. Denise was considerably shorter than Leopold. She was slumped, clearly determined to make the villain drag her. She wasn't helping the man's escape and her position offered Price a clean shot.

The Reverend never saw Price step into the alleyway, take aim and fire. His bullet went straight through Leopold's head. Gunner grabbed Denise as the man fell. When Price reached them, Denise was running her hands over Gunner's shoulder, trying to apply pressure to the bleeding there.

"Gunner's been shot." Her eyes when she looked at Price were glazed, unfocused. Shock was beginning to set in.

Price nodded. "I know. We'll take care of it."

He jerked when he heard footsteps coming down the alley. Price raised his weapon and then lowered it as Agent Young approached.

Young took in the scene. "Leopold dead?"

Price started to laugh at the inane question. The man was lying in a pool of his own blood and brain matter. Instead, he said, "yeah."

Young pointed to the weapon in Price's hand. "Is that the gun that did it?"

Price hesitated. While he knew Gunner trusted the fellow FBI agent, Price still wasn't sure what to make of the man.

Gunner answered. "Yeah. That's it."

Young's gaze traveled over Gunner as he sat on the ground, Denise in his arms, her trembling hands trying to stem the flow of blood. "You okay?"

Gunner nodded.

"Why don't the three of you get out of here? Get yourself st.i.tched up. I'll clear the scene."

Gunner rose on unsteady feet. He'd lost a fair amount of blood and it was clear the adrenaline that had sent him chasing after Denise was fading fast. Price stepped closer and placed a strong hand under his friend's arm to help him.

"Take the limo," Young suggested. "And I'll need that gun."

Price didn't hand the weapon over until Gunner placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Price. Young knows what he's doing."

Price gave the agent the gun, opened the door of the limo and helped Gunner and Deni inside. He walked to the front, relieved to find the keys still hanging in the ignition. He really didn't want to have to rummage through a dead man's pants for them.

Putting the car in reverse, he slowly maneuvered out of the alley. The crowd on the street had dispersed, though there were still quite a few patrol cars parked in front of the library, their lights flas.h.i.+ng.

He glanced in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

Denise instantly said, "The hospital."

Price didn't acknowledge her response. He knew where she wanted to go.

Gunner held his gaze through the reflection. "You know how to st.i.tch?"

"Yeah."

"You got supplies at the mansion?"

Price nodded. "I do."

"Then let's go home."

Deni started to protest, but Price let Gunner explain why it was better for them to lay low. Young's job of cleaning up the mess they'd left would be that much harder if an FBI agent arrived at the hospital with a hole in his arm.

Silence fell in the limo as exhaustion took over.

Only one thought managed to penetrate Price's hazy mind, repeating itself like a mantra.

We made it. We made it.

We made it.

Chapter Eight.

"Young," Gunner said, shaking hands with his new partner. His boss at the FBI had decided he and Agent Young made a good team. He'd just gotten the new orders this morning that they would work together.

"How are you holding up, partner?"

Gunner grinned. "Looks like you're stuck with me."

Young shrugged. "I can think of worse guys to work with. How's the arm?"

Gunner pulled a chair out from the table and sat. He gestured for Young to join him. His arm was bandaged up, but Gunner refused to wear a sling. It ached like the devil, but today was too important and there was no way in h.e.l.l he'd show up looking injured.

He'd asked Young to meet with him in the library. Two days had pa.s.sed since he'd seen the agent in the alley. Gunner and Price had kept Deni at home following her wild ride in the limo with the Reverend. Deni, in typical form, had bounced back quickly from the frightening event. While she'd cried herself to sleep the first night, by the next morning she was more like her old self, laughing with them over breakfast. The second night had been easier as they had playful s.e.x in the hot tub, all of them grateful that they were still alive, still together.

He glanced at his watch. "I've only got a few minutes. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to talk to you since the shooting."

Agent Young grinned. "Well, I don't blame you there. If I had a pretty nurse like your Dr. Parker, I wouldn't bother to come up for air either."

Gunner rolled his eyes, but he was glad to see Young had jumped to the conclusion he, Price and Deni had agreed upon. There was a brief article in the newspaper regarding the protest at the library, followed up by a slew of articles about the importance of stem-cell research. The lab director had called Deni this morning to tell her that contributions to the lab had already doubled the previous year's campaign. Gunner suspected Price had written a fairly large check as well.

Young had outdone himself suppressing the truth from the media. The so-called fire at the library was falsely reported as smoke bombs set off by prankster teenagers. But the true masterpiece was the explanation of the Reverend's death.

"So Leopold killed himself?" Gunner asked.

Young nodded. "Got drunk in that bar on the corner, walked out into the alley and put a gun to the side of his head. Several patrons of the bar have reported overhearing him talk about the fact he was a fraud and he was about to be exposed."

Gunner appreciated the man's ingenuity. Young would have made an excellent member of the Trinity Masters. "Smart. It's harder for his followers to make him a martyr if he reveals himself as a liar and takes his own life."

Young straightened his tie. "That's what I thought. We've also leaked some details about his early life, his time spent in a sanatorium, his run-ins with the law, questions that have been raised about how he got his money through illegal means."

"What about his congregation?"

"Word on the street says they're disbanding. A lot of the higher ups, Leopold's trusted friends, are vanis.h.i.+ng, lying low until everything dies down."

Gunner rubbed his arm, trying to ignore the twinge of pain. "What about the guy who shot me?"

"It was the night custodian at the lab, Chester Cook. The same guy who shot Deni's a.s.sistant, Curtis."

Gunner recalled seeing the man knocked down through the haze of smoke in the stairwell. "One of Bennett's guys tackled him right after he shot me."

"Yeah. The security guard was still holding him when the police got there. Told them he was the guy wanted for questioning in Curtis's attack. Good thing Price had the foresight to flash Cook's picture around to his staff along with the Reverend's when we were setting up the sting operation. Helped us kill two birds with one stone. Once Cook heard about the Reverend's suicide, he sang like a canary, confessed everything."

"Good."

Young frowned. "What's the deal with you and that Bennett guy anyway?"

Gunner grinned, deciding to use one of Price's favorite phrases. "I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

Young rolled his eyes as Gunner rose.

"I appreciate the way you took care of everything, Young."

The man shrugged, obviously uncomfortable by the praise. Then he stood too. "What are you all dressed up for?"

It was the first time Young had acknowledged Gunner's formal suit. "I have a date. And I'm going to be late if I don't leave right now. See you at work."

He and Young shook hands, then Gunner headed for the rare-book room. A month had pa.s.sed since the introduction ceremony.

What a month.

Today was the formal binding ceremony. He was about to be joined with Price Bennett and Denise Parker for the rest of his life.

Gunner grinned. He couldn't wait.

A few hours and one ceremony later, Gunner entered the limo first, reaching back to help Deni in. She was giggling, her face gleaming with pure joy.

Price stood at the door with Roman, who was also sporting st.i.tches. While Gunner's were in his arm, Roman's were on the back of his head. It turned out the driver had been lured from the limo the day of the lecture when he witnessed a thug knock an old lady down and steal her purse. Roman had jumped from the vehicle to help the woman up when someone bashed him on the head from behind. He'd been unconscious in the middle of the road until the limo pulled away from the curb.

"Take the scenic route," Gunner heard Price instruct the driver. Roman winked and nodded as Price climbed in and shut the door.

"We did it. We're married." Deni's smile grew even wider.

It was a contagious look. Gunner couldn't contain his happiness either. "You're right. We are."

Price stretched his arm along the backseat, tugging Deni closer. Gunner had claimed the side couch as usual.

"I think we need to go on a honeymoon," Price said.

Deni laughed. "We've been honeymooning for the past month."

Price shrugged. "I want more. Besides, I mean a real honeymoon. I want to go somewhere. I own a small island in the Caribbean that would be perfect. It's very secluded and private. No one would-"

Deni and Gunner burst into loud peals of laughter.

"You own an island?" Gunner wasn't sure why he was surprised. In the past month, he'd discovered Price owned several restaurant chains, a private jet and a home on Martha's Vineyard.

Price wasn't deterred. "I'll make the arrangements with my personal a.s.sistant."