As it stands, we still might. We’re a private agency not authorized by law to do what we just did, despite the fact we had FBI backup, but I’ll worry about those repercussions later.
Luckily, the two outside guards were easily subdued. There hadn’t been anyone in the house when we entered. Bebe had managed to provide the specs on the layout, so when we went in, I chose to go down to the basement, knowing that was the most likely place to find Barrett.
And I walked into a fucking nightmare.
I’ve never felt such rage before as when I saw Barrett bent over a table, her pants pushed crudely to her knees while a brute of a man unzipped his pants as he stood behind her. The feeling had overwhelmed me for a moment.
And then…
It focused me.
My eyes narrowed, my gun aimed, and there was a tiny imaginary bull’s-eye painted on the man’s forehead as he had whirled in stunned surprise when I kicked the door open.
I didn’t have a moment’s hesitation in pulling the trigger, my intention one hundred percent meant to kill.
I’d known it was wrong.
Known I’d saved Barrett from a terrible fate at his hands. Known I could have ordered him to move away from her.
Known that by killing him, I’d become a murderer. Yet, it was the only option I’d had. I’d never be able to live with myself if I let Barrett’s pain and torture go unavenged.
On the main floor, we’re met by FBI agents and local police as they start to fill the house for processing. No one stops us as I lead her out.
No one looks twice at us.
Until we make it down the front porch steps, my arm still locked tight around Barrett’s shoulders, and come face to face with Kynan and Willis Henry, the director of the FBI.
Both wear concerned expressions, which I know has everything to do with the dead body in the basement. That shooting happened less than five minutes ago, but they’ve already been informed I’d killed a man.
What else did they know about it?
“Mr. Britton,” Director Henry says gravely. “We’re going to need to talk to you about what happened down there. I’m going to ask you go with two of my agents back to our offices in Washington.”
I don’t dare look at Kynan, but I can feel the tension rolling off him. “Can this wait?” I ask, nodding to Barrett as I pull her in closer. “She’s had a very traumatic experience, and I want to get her home.”
“We’d be happy to help arrange transport for Ms. Alexander to either a hospital or to her home—”
“I don’t want to go to a hospital,” Barrett interrupts, her voice sounding a little shrill. “And I want Cruce to take me home. I’m sure you can appreciate what I’ve been through, and you can always talk to Cruce tomorrow.”
“This is a criminal investigation, Ms. Alexander,” the director answers cautiously. “I cannot begin to imagine what you suffered, and we’ll obviously need your statement, too. I can have an agent accompany you to save you a trip to our offices.”
“I think your ‘criminal’ investigation needs to be focused on the actual criminals,” Barrett snaps hotly. “You know… the man who had me kidnapped and tortured. Richard Munford.”
Director Henry’s gaze moves from Barrett to me. “Mr. Munford is saying you shot his employee in cold blood. That he was unarmed and helpless.”
“He tortured me for hours with an electric cattle prod,” Barrett snarls, pulling away from my embrace and getting in Henry’s face. “He was getting ready to rape me, and he had just threatened to shove that cattle prod inside me. You should be giving Cruce a medal.”
I actually go dizzy upon hearing this.
He had threatened to rape her with that fucking electrified stick?
“That fucker deserved the bullet between his eyes,” I growl at the director.
“Jesus Christ,” Kynan mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I think you need to come with me,” Director Henry says with a resigned sigh.
“Wait,” Barrett says shrilly, moving to put herself in between me and the director of the FBI. She even holds her arms stretched out as if she could physically keep us apart if either of us didn’t want that space. The wounds on her wrists are glaring, and I, in turn, glare at Henry for even attempting this shit while Barrett clearly needs to be taken care. “How can you even do this? What in the hell is wrong with you? Cruce did nothing but protect me and my knowledge. He’s an American patriot, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Easy there, Barrie,” a deep voice says from behind us, and I jolt when I recognize it as the president’s. I turn to see him. He’s staring at Barrett as if he’s on the verge of tears.
Director Henry stands straighter, puffing his chest out slightly as Barrett pushes past me to move into her uncle’s arms. He hugs her tightly, squeezing his eyes shut, and she starts crying again.
His eyes pop open, pinned directly on Willis Henry, and a hard resolve tightens the president’s jawline.
He presses a kiss to the top of Barrett’s head, then gently pushes her into my arms. I gather her close while the president puts his arm on the director’s shoulder and leads him a few feet away.
I can’t hear exactly what’s being said, so I focus on Kynan. “How fucked am I?”
“I have no clue,” he replies with a worried expression. “But that little comment about the man deserving a bullet between his eyes didn’t help.”
It was the truth, but yeah… should have kept that to myself.
“You going to lecture me on being so irresponsible?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says without hesitation.
“Going to fire me?”
Kynan rolls his eyes. “No need. You’ll probably be in prison.”
Barrett jerks at that, whipping around to Kynan. “No. They can’t.”
“They can,” I murmur, and she pushes out of my embrace with a glare. “You know I didn’t have to kill that man, Barrett. But I did, and I’d do it again even knowing the consequences. What he was about to do to you and imagining what he’d already done… I just… I couldn’t let that go.”
She shakes her head, not wanting to listen.
“You remember what we talked about on the boat that day?” I ask. It takes a moment for realization to set in, but then she gives me a tentative nod.
“We talked about regrets,” I remind her, although she’s right there with me. I can see it. “And I don’t regret this, Barrett. Please know, no matter what happens, killing that man is something I will never regret.”
“It’s not fair,” she cries out, flinging herself into my arms, burying her face in my chest. Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I hold her. Let her cry it out. Trying to shove down the realization I might not ever get to hold her again.
Kynan makes a rough coughing sound, obviously fake. When I raise an eyebrow, his eyes flick over to where the president had just been talking to Directory Henry.
But Henry’s gone, and the president watches me hold his niece with a weird expression on his face. A little perplexed, a little affronted, a little resigned, but mixed with a slight tinge of happiness.
He moves toward us, and I give Barrett a tiny squeeze before placing my hands on her shoulders to push her slightly away from me. When she sees her uncle approaching, she immediately starts to implore. “Please, Uncle Jon… can’t you do—”