“Yeah. I’m surprised they’re not here already.” He tilted his head toward the ground. “If you want to look after Mickey, I can deal with him.”
“Are you sure?” As much as he wanted to be with Mickey, leaving his partner to wade through the shit of an international arrest didn’t sit right with him. Even if the last thing he wanted to do was shift through the bureaucratic bullshit.
Eric slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Go. I’ll send an officer to the hotel to talk to you and Mickey. She’ll be more comfortable talking away from the scene. You can come in tomorrow to talk to this piece of garbage. From the looks of it, he won’t be much use tonight anyway.”
He hesitated, torn between taking care of Mickey and doing his job. He glanced down at Pete. Eric was right. This guy wasn’t going to talk much tonight. “Thanks, man. I’ll call Harper and fill him in.”
He grabbed the keys to the handcuffs out of his front pocket and tossed them to Eric. He walked toward Mickey, stopping behind her and placing his hand on the small of her back.“How’s she looking?” he asked the middle-aged woman who was checking Mickey’s heart rate.
“I don’t need to get checked out. I’m a little scraped up, that’s it.” She looked at him, her eyes rounded and lips pressed in a pout.
“Si, she just needs to be cleaned up. I can take care of it here if you’d like.”
Mickey shook her head. “No thanks. I can do it at the hotel just as easily.”
He glanced down at her and pushed a strand of hair off her face. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, let’s head back. I need to make a quick call while we walk.”
Mickey nodded and walked quietly beside him while he pulled up Harper’s number and placed the phone to his ear. The shrill rings sounded in his ear, but no one answered. He didn’t want to leave a voicemail, so he hung up and called the office instead. Two rings, followed by a sudden click vibrated through the phone.
“Hello, you’ve reached Lieutenant Harper’s office.”
“Mary?” Graham pulled his phone away from his ear and glanced at the screen to make sure he called the right number. Sure enough, Harper’s office number, not his receptionist, was on the screen.
“Yes, this is Mary. Graham?”
“Yes. I’m looking for Harper. I have an update for him on the Bogart case.”
“He’s had all of his calls transferred to me for the next couple of days. He’s asked all agents to write up any reports they have and send them to his email. He’ll look at them when he gets a chance.”
Graham’s head spun. Harper never took time off. Hell, even if the guy was out of the office for the day he made sure all agents knew how to contact him. It didn’t make sense Harper would just up and leave without letting everyone in on the details.
“Where is he?”
“I have no further information to pass along. Just send the lieutenant your report and I’m sure he’ll be back in the office soon.”
Graham hung up and put his phone in his pocket. His mind spun in so many different directions, he wasn’t sure which way was up. In all of his years with the FBI, he’d never had his superior just disappear in the middle of a big case. Where the hell could he have gone?
They walked in silence toward the busy street full of life and laughter. Blue and red lights flashed by them on top of a squad car and a siren screamed into the night. The cops had finally showed up. He pushed Harper out of his mind. He needed to focus on Mickey right now, and making sure she was alright.
The sun had disappeared and the glow of the moon shone bright overhead. Music filled the air and people packed along the sidewalks to take in the sights. Funny how busy the street was mere blocks away from where Mickey had been attacked.
Graham swallowedpast a lump in his throat. He could have lost Mickey tonight. Never in a million years would he have imagined she’d come to mean so much to him. He glanced over at her, and she looked up and her wide mouth curved into a smile. Even with her hair a mess and dried blood along the subtle bruises on her face, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
She was a fighter, and now that’d he’d finally gotten Pete in cuffs, he’d do whatever it took to make her his.
21
Searing pain scolded her shoulder.
Mickey pressed her teeth together, not wanting Graham to see how much she hurt as he inspected her. He gently pressed the peroxide-soaked cloth to the wound. Her toes curled into the plush carpet and tears burned her eyes. Rivulets of peroxide ran down her arm and dripped down on the wing-back chair, turning the cream color dark.
“I know it hurts,” he said in a hushed tone. “We’ve got to make sure it’s clean.”
She nodded, looking away and squeezing her eyes shut. Her knees bounced up and down and she counted in her mind to focus on something besides the pain. The cloth lifted from her arm and a cold, wet one replaced it.
