Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

MADELINE

Stay calm. Breathe. Think through the fear and find your happy place.

What a crock.

Think through the fear? I think I'm going to vomit. Find your happy place – uh, hello - DISTINCTLY NOT HERE!

Stay calm. Calm?

I'm tiptoeing on hysteria combined with very distinctly murder-y thoughts about my kidnapper. If he goes in for the kill, it's gonna be a fight! Why was I so stupid to go with him? Oh yeah, ‘pinky the pistol' was shoved into my side.

"Why is your gun pink?" Madeline blurted out and instantly regretted it as he gave her a very grim look.

"Because the nitwit I stole it from was carrying a pink and black gun."

"You realize that saying it's ‘pink and black' means it's still pink, right? You are a grown man threatening me with a pink gun – and where are we going anyhow?"

"To pick up my final shipment and drop you off."

"At the museum?"

"Who do you think selected your application?" Travis laughed manically at her stunned face. "Did you really think I didn't know you applied for this position? C'mon Madeline – you cannot be that stupid – can you?"

She just sat there, unsure what to say. Her mind was reeling in disbelief, putting all the pieces together, and she stared at him in horror.

"It's a front…?"

"Of course, it's a front," Travis laughed again and patted the driver on the shoulder. "You hear that, Gino? Pollyanna has finally figured out that the Egyptian wing is being used as a front, and it's the perfect one."

"I don't understand… why me? Why the museum?"

"Nobody questions when large shipments are coming in from overseas in crates. It's easy to hide the contents. People treat you like you are someone important when you show up in a suit, flash a bunch of cash around, and can read the ancient languages - it's all about power. I like being in control, and if I don't have people like you mucking it all up, things go smoothly…"

"Why me? How am I mucking it up?"

"You asked too many questions and refused to help me."

"You were smuggling in antiquities and artifacts," she retorted in disbelief, sputtering in horror and dismay that he still expected her to go along with him… only to hear both men burst out laughing.

"You idiot – smuggling artifacts is a cover for the bricks of cocaine packed in the crates and containers. There's no money in a bunch of crappy limestone rocks, old leaden dishes, or broken tablets - but when you start to dabble in some real ‘rocks'… "

"He means nuggets of crack cocaine, Pollyanna," the driver mocked, mansplaining it to her. "We're here, boss."

"Perfect," Travis said, waving the pink gun at her. "Open the door, and let's get out. My shipment should be arriving within the next twenty minutes."

Madeline slowly got out of the car, dragging it out and hoping with all of her might that Noah was listening. She tried to give him as many clues as possible – the gun, the location, getting the two men to talk to her so he knew how many people there were, and she hesitated.

"You brought six more armed men with you?"

Travis looked at her skeptically and arched an eyebrow, waving the gun at her. "Turn around. People don't talk like that normally. Are you wearing a wire?" – and patted the back of her waist, reaching around to pat her sternum looking for a microphone… and grabbed her painfully, like he was squeezing a stress ball.

"Ouch?!" she blurted out, wincing as he laughed. She was struggling to wriggle away from the firm grip he had on her and frustrated that he was the stronger one in this ‘fight.'

"Don't touch me!" she hissed in wretched disgust. If he was going to end up using her as a scapegoat or tying up any loose ends from his time in Egypt – she wasn't about to let him add ‘rape' to the list of disgusting offenses guaranteeing him a straight shot to hell. Lying, stealing, hurting people, killing them— all of it was the resume of a sickened individual. If he thought to molest or rape her – she wasn't going down without a fight!

Madeline wrested herself from his grip, only to have him grab a fistful of her hair, pausing in her fight as every nerve on her head seemed to explode with pain – but only for a moment. She swiftly stomped on his shoe with her heel, causing him to release her hair as he cursed at her angrily before seizing her arm once more.

Yeah, this was going to be the fight of her life – or death, she thought wretchedly, only to hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Get your hands off of my wife!"

Noah!

"Get out of here!" she screamed, terrified, glancing up at Noah's beloved face. If they killed him, there would be nothing that would stop her from committing the same mortal sins that she assumed Travis had already done. She would kill him painfully for touching a hair on her husband's head.

"They've got… owww !" she began again, yelping as Travis threw her on the ground violently behind him, her hands automatically reaching out to stop the collision as the gravel and concrete dug into the delicate skin of her forearms and palms painfully.

Looking back at Noah, she was about to yell a warning at him again – only to see him stepping forward into the security lights of the museum. Her heart caught in her chest at the fierce determination on his face.

"You are never going to touch my wife again," Noah uttered bluntly, stepping forward once more, and it was a thing of beauty. She had seen him laughing, cutting up, embarrassed, emotional, and in the throes of passion – but she had never witnessed anything so awe-inspiring as this man before her.

Noah's expression had a strangely disconcerting cold detachment as he faced Travis, leaning almost aggressively forward as if to show him who the boss was. His suit for the concert made him look even more debonair – and lethal, like some gangster. He straightened the lapels on his jacket before taking another step forward, not glancing at her where she sat on the concrete.

"This is between you and me now…" Noah hissed, his voice the only indicator that he was exceedingly pissed off.

"You and me?" Travis barked, laughing. "Are you as dumb as she is? Do you really think I'd come by myself or chance losing a fight?"

"Do you think I did?"

That simple question, that callous smirk on her husband's face, combined with the five men coming out of the shadows slowly behind Noah made her hesitate as she stared. The sailors were in various states, shrugging off the same dress uniform jackets that Noah had fretted about earlier in the evening getting dirty – and she couldn't help herself.

Madeline chuckled.

Her unexpected laugh caused Travis to look back at her in disbelief as their drawn-out movements, the casual toss of the expensive uniforms onto the concrete nearby, combined with the steady advance from the team – all of it gave her a boost of confidence.

"You're about to meet your Maker."

"Shut up…"

"I'd start praying," she chuckled again, goading Travis. Noah was cracking his knuckles, advancing toward them, and she smiled proudly. Her husband didn't even bother to remove his black jacket because, to him, Travis was a pesky gnat to be dealt with.

All of the guys were warming up for what was about to be a serious beatdown. Trophy was hopping slightly and making his fists, like a boxer about to enter the ring – and grinning. Moonbeam was whistling slowly, pretending to dust off his shoulders. Orion arched his neck in one direction, popping it, and then the other, before rolling his shoulders. Tic-Tak was advancing quickly, almost alongside Noah, obviously itching for a fight. Each man was preparing to stand by her husband's side in a show of fidelity and loyalty to each other.

Travis was looking around, his face getting more and more nervous as it clicked in her head. He was looking for the other hired guns he had bragged to her about. There was a shipment supposed to be happening at any moment, and she didn't see anyone – not even Gino, the driver from the vehicle bringing her here.

"You can't threaten me…" Travis snapped, pointing his gun. Even from her viewpoint, she could see that he was shaking as the barrel moved from man to man, because he didn't know where to aim first. "You hear me?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me?" Noah said casually. "Did you think I came alone?"

And Travis's arm swung in an arc directly at Madeline. Her breath seized in her chest, expecting him to pull the trigger. Noah obviously thought the same because he seized up and slung an arm out to stop Tic-Tak beside him, signaling the others at once. All of the men stopped moving, and for the first time since his appearance, Noah glanced at her briefly before looking at Travis again.

"I suggest that you think long and hard about what you are planning to do," her husband said simply. "I would recommend aiming that gun away from my wife… now ."

"You aren't in control here! This is not your moment, not your place, and you are nothing. I don't even need or want you here – you're useless to me," Travis was blabbering in a panicked rush. Madeline realized that he had to be aware something was wrong with his plans and that no one was coming to his aid .

"She's the only one I need to deal with to get out of the mess I'm in… do you hear me? You can leave right now, and no one will know – but this idiot, " he said shrilly, shaking the gun at her blindly as he continued speaking to Noah, completely ignoring her. "She's been nothing but problems for me, causing all sorts of issues, and that is why they are after me now. It's her fault, and she has to pay!"

Noah glanced at her again, but his expression was unreadable. He stood there, holding her gaze steadily. She could see the tension in him, but that was only because she knew him so well. Anyone else might think that he was cool as a cucumber. Did he think this was about to get really ugly? Was she about to be shot?

Looking up at Travis warily, she blinked in confusion. There was a strange red dot on Travis, directly between his shoulder blades. Madeline looked back at Noah to see him nod slightly. Her ex-boyfriend was still tripping over himself about how much he believed she had wronged him, yet someone had a gun trained on him.

"Do you know what she did? Do you even understand?" Travis was screaming now, beyond reason and incoherent. "I told her I needed help. I asked her to take something back overseas, and she said ‘No'. I've never asked for help with anything before, but I needed her to take a payment to my seller before the price went up. Do you know how expensive crack is – and how impatient the industry can be? You don't just get to say ‘No'. You have to meet deadlines and pay your bills, or they come out of the woodwork looking for retribution…, so because they are out for my blood, they are going to get hers instead!"

And a penny rolled past her, wobbling precariously and then falling over, lying there. That was really strange. Where did a penny come from? She mused curiously, turning in the direction from where it came and hesitated.

Behind her, in the darkness, were several police officers slowly making their way toward them. One officer was closest to her location and met her eyes. He was carrying a ballistic shield like you saw on the news during riots. Holding a finger to his lips, his eyes moved from hers to rest on Travis once more as he crept closer.

Was she supposed to move toward the officer? What would happen to her if Travis noticed the police were there? So many thoughts were swirling in her mind. This was simply unbelievable and completely overwhelming - including the crunch of a pebble under the officer's foot, setting off a chain reaction of events in slow motion.

Travis's head turned toward the sound as Noah yelled out, diving forward protectively. The police officer behind her sprung forward, covering her with the shield as he tackled her bodily. She heard Travis's gun explode as he pulled the trigger, firing in her direction, immediately bracing for death, only to hear another explosion in the strange silence around her.

People always said that the brain had a way of protecting itself from things it couldn't handle well. Wounded people in severe pain, slumped over in a faint. New mothers remembered how much being in active labor hurt, but the mind lessened the experience to a manageable level – or else we would have died out as a species. In car accidents, people remember seeing the other car and the impact, but they don't remember the sound of crunching metal folding over itself or the airbag inflating. They recall an instantaneous pop – followed by a surreal silence.

Madeline felt the officer crushing her, felt hands grabbing her, as she slowly opened her eyes in a daze. Where was the crushing pain from being shot ? She thought in confusion, looking up into Noah's eyes and seeing them glisten with tears. That slow motion momentum slammed forward as everything seemed to register at once. She grabbed at Noah blindly, needing to reassure herself that he was okay, and he was pulling her into his arms at the same time, kneeling on the concrete beside where she lay.

"Miss, are you all right?"

"Dr. Bennington, are you injured?"

"Here," Orion said bluntly, stepping over her leg and protectively holding up one of their dress uniform coats, blocking her view. "Get her out of here, Memphis."

It was on her lips to ask ‘why,' but the look in their eyes spoke volumes.

Travis was dead.

There was a dead body lying on the ground not three feet from where she was sitting, and she began crying. She remembered the way he had made sure she fit in with the group when she arrived in Egypt, fresh from college. The way he'd smiled at her when he finally asked her out – and how upset he was when she declined, breaking up with him. He had fallen into a crowd that had dragged a once good man down, and she couldn't help but mourn that loss and what a waste of a brilliant mind it was.

Noah silently helped her to her feet as one of the police officers came to speak with them. Her husband's arm remained around her shoulders protectively, curling her away from the scene behind them, and she was grateful. No one's last memory should be of them at their very worst moments. You celebrate life while it's happening, not mourn it when it's too late. She wanted to remember the happier moments and forget the other ones – including the maniacal look in Travis's eyes when he realized no one was coming to help him. That had to be a terrible feeling – almost as bad as having a gun aimed at you.

"Why don't you take her home, Mr. Bennington. We can get a statement from you both tomorrow," the officer finished. "We've got Dr. Travis Hatt's own statement of guilt along with Mrs. Bennington's refusal to help him on body cam footage, so I wouldn't worry about a thing."

"Thank you, officer," Noah began and then looked over his shoulder, addressing someone else. "I'm taking her out of here and heading home. Are you guys going to be okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm going to go burn off some energy."

"We're heading back to the ship."

"I'm heading back to the bar."

"And I'm going with Moonbeam," Trophy announced and patted Madeline's head in an almost brotherly weird fashion before tugging the coat Orion had been holding up back over her head like a blanket. "You did good tonight, Mrs. New York… and Memphis, I'll get my jacket from you in a few days, bro."

"You got it."

Twenty minutes later, Madeline was still sniffing and crying silently as they entered the apartment. Noah locked the door behind them just as Madeline flopped down on the mattress located on the floor, dominating the small quarters.

"I'm going to make you some tea."

"Thanks," she whispered hoarsely, not looking up as she stared at her bloodied palms that were scraped badly .

"Let me see those," he whispered, kneeling before her and then moved away. She heard him moving around the small space, heard the water running, and the bathroom mirrored cabinet door open as he searched for medicine or Band-Aids.

"I don't have any b-bandages," she began, and her voice caught. "I haven't had a reason to buy them since I left Egypt. I mean, the only reason I had them there was I tripped on an uneven sidewalk and scraped my knee badly. That was when Travis…" her voice failed her as she was assaulted by the memory of that day almost a year ago.

Travis had been teasing her gently about walking with a slight limp after finding out that Madeline had scraped her knee badly that morning – and had asked her to dinner. He had been so sweet, so kind, that she had said yes despite her fears of dating a coworker. The man who died this evening wasn't the same one she had met long ago when she arrived in Egypt. There were moments when Travis was so nice, and others where he didn't seem like the same person, and she mourned for that loss, her lost friend and colleague.

Noah sat down beside her on the mattress with a bowl of soapy water, some Neosporin ointment, and a washrag. He took her hand in his, gingerly washing the dirt and debris from her scrapes, and she looked at him brokenly. Noah was always there, always holding her together with that quiet strength that she had come to rely on.

"Did you love him?"

"No," she admitted, seeing the worry and confusion in Noah's beloved eyes. "I must be stupid because I cannot help but feel such sadness in his death."

"You're a very good person with a caring heart."

"Noah, he tried to kill us in Egypt…" she wept painfully, laughing tearfully as she looked at him. "I know th at, but I can't help but think of the person he once was and how far he's fallen. Is that wrong?"

"Not at all," he said gently, rinsing her hands once more. "It's normal for people to remember moments that stick with you. There's so much negativity in the world sometimes that we cling to those shining memories as a beacon that brighter days will come again."

"That doesn't make me a fool?"

"It makes you a beautiful, caring soul that finds it hard to accept that there isn't another tomorrow for someone who has made a mess of their life. There is a painful finality that is hard for anyone to deal with."

"You're not upset."

"No, I'm not," Noah admitted, gingerly patting her hands dry like she was a child being cared for by a loving parent. "I don't have the same memories as you. I feel really bad that I only knew the worst version of Travis and grateful that you are okay, but…" he paused, causing her to look up at him again and falling into those beautiful eyes she adored so much. "But if something had happened to you, it would have still been Travis' last day on this earth."

There was a calmness in Noah's voice that wavered slightly and a lingering fear in his eyes that spoke volumes. He had witnessed her being threatened with a gun, and that was something no couple should have to experience. She couldn't be mad at his words, nor could she blame him. He loved her with an intensity that ran deeper than any emotion she had ever experienced.

He was her life, her soul, her everything.

"I don't want to do this anymore," she whispered thickly, her voice aching. "I want to come home to you so that we can be together. Can we get an apartment or something because I do not want to be here anymore or for us to live apart. The job, the money, all of it just isn't worth any of it – and you were right."

And heard his tearful laugh as he met her gaze.

"What?" she chuckled, wiping her eyes. "Are you laughing because I admitted that you were right? Sheesh. Maybe I should take back everything I said?"

"No, sweetheart," he smiled tenderly. "I was a little distracted and haven't gotten a chance to tell you the good news."

"I could use some ‘good news.' What is it?"

"Well, when you left to go to the bathroom, the housing department called…"

"No way," she interrupted, shocked. "NO WAY! Are you saying what I think you are?" and saw him nod as his smile widened even more.

"We can move in next Friday. You should probably give your notice in the morning, sweetheart."

"Oh my gosh," she whispered, stunned. "That's the best news."

"I agree," he began and moved to set the bowl on the wood floor next to the mattress before pressing her back onto the mattress with a kiss – and Madeline hesitated.

"Noah?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I'm not sure I feel like fooling around tonight. I'm just a mess and…"

"Shhh," he interrupted her tearful plea and nodded, gathering her into his arms and holding her close. "I just wanted to kiss you and hold you close for a little while before we go to sleep. I was so scared I might lose you earlier, and I'm not feeling very frisky right now either."

"You're not? "

"Honey, someone died within ten feet of us tonight. I just need comfort and to know you are in my world."

Madeline sighed at his words, recognizing and understanding them so much. If he was her rock, she needed to cling to him for a bit after being battered by the tides of change that nearly swept her away. Yes, she could do with a little cuddling and kissing, too.

Looking at him, she angled her face toward him, waiting.

Instead of kissing her immediately, Noah planted a forearm on either side of her head, nuzzling his cheek against hers and inhaling deeply with his eyes closed. She knew he liked her perfume and treasured reactions like this because he seemed to be able to drop his walls so easily with her when they were alone.

Leaning up, she kissed the tip of his nose like he'd done to her before in the past, moving to kiss each of his eyelids that were still shut. In that moment, she did the same, losing herself in the feelings between them, the sensation of being a part of something more.

Closing her eyes, she savored her other senses coming to life. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of warmth from him being near, the taste of his skin as she kissed his cheek – and felt him do the same. They lay there together, not bothering to undress but instead, held each other close, spending hours kissing, whispering, and holding fast to the comfort that only a soulmate could bring. There was something so blissfully wonderful knowing you could hold your special person close, love them, and that there was more there between you both than fantastic sex.

Their love ran deeper than any of that and would last.