Erica Orloff - The Golden Girl

“I’d rather die right here than go to prison like my father,” Katherine said. “And taking a Pruitt brat with me will only make my demise truly spectacular and worth it.”

“No one’s killing anyone here, Katherine,” Troy said, inching his way forward.

Katherine and Bing, meanwhile, were inching their way backward with Madison.

Suddenly, Madison’s heel caught in a small rut in the gravel-and-concrete lot. As she fell and lost her balance, Katherine herself fell backward for a second, which was all Troy’s SWAT team needed. They shot her what seemed to Madison like a hundred times, and her body shook from the impact of dozens of bullets striking her like a target at target practice.

That left Madison and Bing, who were now wrestling on the ground.

He had his hands clasped around her throat, on top of her. Madison knew there was no way they could shoot him without risking the bullet traveling through him and hitting her. Taking her fingers, she gouged his eyeballs, and he let out a high-pitched squeal.

Rolling off her, Bing grabbed Katherine’s gun, which had fallen to the ground right by them. He couldn’t see, but he felt for Madison, who was rolling away from him. He grabbed her hair and brought the gun toward her. At that moment, the SWAT team had a clear shot—and took it…

Just as Madison’s uncle Bing pumped two shots into her—one just below where the vest protected her…and one in her thigh.

Madison felt as if she’d been punched with fire. The world started going black, the sky turning to stars.

The last thing she saw as she turned her head was Bing, his body moving as it was riddled with bullets, and then Troy…saying, “Hang in there, Madison!”

And then…

Nothing.

Chapter 23

Madison next woke up three days later in the hospital intensive-care ward. Morphine clouded her brain and she had no recollection of anything. She felt pain, but it was softened by the morphine. She felt fear, because she saw the machines around her.

And then she saw John’s face.

She relaxed a little at the sight of him. He stroked her face, and said something like, “You did it…they got them…. Don’t talk…I love you.”

And then blackness.

The next time Madison awoke, she felt stronger. She still didn’t remember much. She could recall Charlie and the limo blowing up, and Bing…and being wired. But the precise way she got shot was a blur.

Her father was there, looking ashen, next to John. “Darling…don’t speak. You’re getting the best medical care money can buy.”

Madison’s eyes focused, and she saw three private-duty nurses around her. If she could have, she would have laughed. She couldn’t move—what did she need three nurses for?

Her father said, “Bing and Katherine are dead. Claire’s murder solved. I’m cleared…but at what price?”

She mouthed the words “How bad?”

“Your vital signs are stronger now. You lost a lot of blood. But you’re a tough one. Of course, anyone who has seen you in action in the boardroom knows that. And you were lucky. The bullets missed major organs. And the one in your leg missed your femur.”

Madison trained her eyes on John and smiled.

Her father said, “He hasn’t left the hospital. He’s a good man, Maddie, love…I’m very happy for you. So now you’ve got to pull through and get out of this damn bed and home where you belong.”

Madison grimaced as pain started coursing through her spine.

“Nurse!” her father shouted protectively. A nurse appeared with a syringe…and Madison fell backward into space into a sweet morphine oblivion.

The next person she saw was Troy.

“I sent John to a hotel to shower and get some sleep,” he said. “Your father is having a press conference right now. Everything’s going to be okay, Madison.”

She nodded. She felt more alert. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Water?”

Troy looked over at a nurse, who approached the bed with some ice chips, which she spooned into Madison’s mouth. The soothing cold wetness trickled down her throat.

Troy looked at the nurses. “I need five minutes with her.”

They nodded and left them alone.

“The Governess is really grateful on this one, Madison. Really grateful. If you weren’t undercover, trust me, you’d have a drawerful of medals.”

“Just…glad…it’s…over.”

“Sure. Me, too. I guess you can retire to your penthouse now.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to…walk,” she croaked. “Then kick your ass.”

He winked at her. “We’ll see, tough girl, we’ll see.”

Madison looked over at the windowsill. Huge flower arrangements, spectacular showy ones, stood in crystal vases.

“Ryan Greene, CeCe Goldberg—of course, she wants an exclusive, Anne Kelly…Christ, the president, Renee, Ashley. You got so many flowers, we started sending some to the cancer ward…try to brighten a few patients’ lives a bit.”

“Good.”

Madison smiled. She was going to be fine. She knew it. And the hell with anyone if they thought this meant she was going to quit the Gotham Roses secret spy division.

Epilogue

Troy called Madison at work a couple weeks later.

“Hey…is this my old partner?”

“Oh, my God, Troy…how are you?”

“Fine. Assigned to a new case but missing my old partner. I keep bugging Renee to find us something new to work on.”

“That would be great.”

“How’s the office?”

“Feels good to be back, even if I’m still recovering from the ordeal. But I was going crazy cooped up in the hospital and then at home. On the bright side, my father is CEO again and I’m second-in-command. Stock is healthy…we’re building, climbing…doing great, Troy.”

“And John?”

“Wonderful.”

“You two set a date yet?”

“Sometime next summer when he has off from school. We want to marry in Tuscany.”

“Some guys have all the luck.”

Madison fingered the medal she still wore around her neck.

“Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“I still have your medal. I need to get it back to you.”

“Nah…you keep it. I want you to have it to keep you safe.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, this isn’t an entirely social call. I need for you, your father and John to meet me somewhere.”

“Why do you need them?”

“You’ll see.” He sounded mysterious. “Renee actually has a surprise for you. But I need to deliver it to keep your real relationship with Renee a secret.”

“All right,” she said cautiously. “Where?”

“Drake Hotel. The restaurant. Eight o’clock on Friday. Reservations will be in my name. Table for five. Just sit and order a cocktail and wait for me. Don’t be late.”

“But—” she said, but found herself listening to dead air.

How odd, she thought.

On Friday, she and John and her father took her father’s limousine to the Drake. As she sat in the back with them, she couldn’t help smiling. “Out with my two favorite guys.”

“Well, we’re with our angel,” John said. He wore a Hugo Boss suit she bought him for his birthday. Her father came in his suit from the office, and she wore a simple black suit by Calvin Klein with a cream-colored blouse. In her hair was an antique comb John had bought her at a street fair they went to in Greenwich Village. Filled with marcasite and emerald stones, it had tiny art deco–looking butterflies.

They arrived at the Drake at a nudge before eight o’clock. As Troy had said, there was a table waiting for them in the back. The maître d’ said, “This is the table that was requested. Very private.”

Their waiter, with an elegant French accent, took their drink orders, and they sat back and looked at each other. Madison assumed they were all thinking the same thing. What the hell were they doing there, and why was this FBI agent acting so…well, downright cloak and dagger?