by Maya Banks
She turned her face to the side, biting into her lower lip to keep her emotions in check. And then the soft brush of a caress glided over her cheek. Just one finger. The back of a knuckle. But she’d know that touch anywhere.
She should be angry with him for showing her any tenderness in front of the others. But they were all being gentle with her. Things had changed and she hated it all. How could anything ever be the same with her team?
This would always be between them. They’d treat her differently. Like she was fragile instead of a teammate capable of carrying her own weight and kicking ass with the rest of them. All because she’d failed a mission. She hadn’t been able to protect herself and she’d been stupid enough and panicked enough to take a drink from a man she knew not to trust.
“P.J.”
Cole’s voice came out husky, riddled with emotion. It was there for everyone to hear.
“Look at me, please,” he begged softly.
She turned, opening her eyes to see the tortured look in his own.
“We’ll get him, P.J. I swear to you we’ll nail his ass to the wall. He’s not going to get away with this.”
No one in the room denied Cole’s terse vow. They all looked just as Cole did. Furious. Worried. Sick at heart.
Live as a team. Die as a team. She was bringing them down. They were dying with her.
She took a steadying breath, determined not to let her building rage overwhelm her. She had to stay calm and focused. One thing at a time.
“We’re driving out to the compound to meet Rio and the others,” Steele said. “Be gone several hours at the most. You need to rest. We need to know what went down in Vienna. We’ll give you whatever intel we receive. I promise.”
She nodded stiffly.
Cole was the last to stand. He was still holding her left hand, his fingers twined through hers. Then finally he rose and leaned over to brush his lips across her forehead.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch for you, P.J.,” he whispered.
She watched him walk away to join the others as they left her room.
“No, you aren’t,” she said quietly as her door closed, leaving her alone in the room. “I am.”
CHAPTER 14
P.J. rested for an hour after her team departed. She hadn’t asked for pain meds and she wasn’t going to. She was getting out of this place.
Hearing that Brumley had escaped had done something to her soul. It was like she’d become a different person at that point. Someone harder. Necessary to get her through the pain and shame of her ordeal.
Time to suck it up and deal. Nothing worthwhile came easy. She’d learned that early on. And she’d been down before. She would never have imagined she’d reach a lower point than when she’d walked away from S.W.A.T.
But here she was, stripped of who she was, what made her the woman she was. That bastard had stolen her confidence. Her arrogance. Her cocky demeanor that held her together on the tough missions. He’d made her doubt herself and everything about her.
She wasn’t going to lie here a moment longer.
She pushed herself out of bed, going clammy as pain gripped her as soon as she put strain on the stitches. Holy hell, it hurt.
She was sore from head to toe, and the damn cuts on the insides of her thighs made standing and walking damn hard.
One of her teammates had brought a duffel bag and dropped it on the counter next to the sink. She slowly made her way to it and unzipped it to inspect the contents.
There were sweatpants, a large T-shirt that would swallow her, socks and a pair of scuffed tennis shoes.
Her chest softened when she realized that the clothing belonged to one of the guys.
But at the bottom was the knife. Brumley’s knife. The knife she’d insisted on keeping. Cole had kept it for her.
It took her several long, agonizing minutes to dress. She made sure the bandages over the cuts stayed in place and then she put the socks and shoes on. When she was done, she slipped the knife into the pocket of the sweats.
She stared at herself for a long moment in the mirror, not liking what she saw. She saw someone . . . broken. And she’d be damned if she allowed those bastards that kind of power.
She’d hunt the motherfuckers down herself.
No one. No one would ever get away with making her feel the way she’d felt that horrible night.
Revenge wasn’t just a concept, some fantasy she dreamed about. It had become her reason for being.
The longer she’d lain in this hospital room, the angrier she’d become and the more she fantasized about having the bastards at her mercy. Of making them beg for mercy. Mercy she wouldn’t provide.
They would die.
They would die for what they’d done to her and for what they’d done to countless young girls and for what they’d tried to do to those babies Rio and his team had managed to rescue.
Thank God, they were on their way home, back to their mothers and fathers. Their families.
The only family P.J. had was her team, and she couldn’t allow them to take on her vendetta. KGI wasn’t a vigilante group. She wasn’t about to turn them into one.
She walked out of her hospital room and down the hall in search of Cathy, one of the nurses P.J. had met during the countless times KGI had been through the hospital at Fort Campbell. Cathy was the closest to another female friend P.J. possessed, and it had been Cathy who’d swept in and taken charge of P.J.’s care.
Cathy was a retired naval nurse who’d moved to Kentucky with her husband, and they both worked on base. She was a brisk, no-nonsense woman whose bluntness had always been appreciated by P.J.
When she got close to the nurse’s station, Cathy looked up and then did a double take. To her credit she didn’t say anything, but she shot out of her chair and rushed around to meet P.J. in the hall.
She quickly drew P.J. into the family room where it was just the two of them and then lit into P.J. with both barrels.
“What the fuck are you doing up?” she demanded. “You should have your ass in bed. I was just preparing to bring you some pain medication.”
“I need out of here,” P.J. said in a low voice. “I can’t stay here another day. I need your help.”
Cathy’s eyes widened. “You want to do what?”
“Your shift is almost over, right? Give me a ride out of here.”
“And where the hell are you going to go? What you need is to stay your ass in bed and let me and the others take care of you for a while. It won’t kill you to depend on others for once.”
P.J. very much wanted to hug the older woman but wouldn’t allow herself the weakness. “I have to do this, Cathy. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Her expression softened. “Honey, you’re not just physically injured. You’ve got a lot to deal with that has nothing to do with stitches or a broken hand. You need to be surrounded by people who care for you right now. Not off on your own with whatever harebrained scheme you’ve concocted.”
“I need to go,” P.J. said in a quiet, determined voice. “Will you help me or do I have to go myself?”
Cathy made a sound of disgust. “You’ll get that pretty ass of yourself shot up by the night guard. For the love of God, P.J., you’re on a military base. You can’t just waltz around like you own the place.”
P.J. gave her a crooked grin. “I’m just a civilian, remember? I can’t be expected to keep up with all those military rules.”
“You’re going to try sneaking out if I don’t help you, aren’t you?”
P.J. nodded, her expression growing somber.
“Fuck me,” Cathy muttered. “Do you have any idea what those men of yours are going to do if they find out I was the one who aided and abetted you?”
“Just throw a hooyah in Cole and Dolphin’s direction. It’ll all be all right then.”
“You’re so damn irreverent,” Cathy said in exasperation. “Navy sticks together, you know. I ought to turn your ass in and then cuff that go
od arm to the bed.”
P.J. glanced down at the awkward cast. Her shooting hand. She needed those fingers steady.
“How long until this heals?” she asked seriously.
“Few weeks in that cast, and you should be good. Hairline fractures of three fingers. Once the swelling and bruising goes down, they should heal quickly, but only if you don’t try to rush things. Give yourself the time you need and don’t try anything stupid or you’ll be sorry. I’m only going to help you if you swear to me that you’ll take care of yourself and give yourself time to heal. Do we have a deal?”
P.J. slowly nodded. “Thanks, Cathy. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing,” Cathy said, her voice thick with emotion. “I have a twelve-year-old niece. Those girls you saved. They could have been my niece. Any one of them. You did a good thing, P.J. You sacrificed too much, but you saved them.”
P.J. blinked away the betraying moisture in her eyes. “How much longer until you get off?”
Cathy checked her watch. “Well now that I don’t have to give you meds and take your vitals, give me five minutes and I’ll be clocking out. Stay put and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go. We’ll take the stairs down and hope to hell no one looks at us too closely.”
She studied P.J. a little closer and then rubbed her chin. “Tell you what. I’ll bring you some scrubs. It’ll draw less attention than you walking down looking like some street urchin in those clothes.”
P.J. smiled. “Thanks.”
“Now sit and rest until I come get you,” Cathy said with a scowl.
P.J. gratefully sank into a chair as she cemented her next course of action. The very first thing she needed was to go back to Denver and take care of a few things there and then take the time to heal. As much as it pained her, she knew Cathy was right. There was absolutely nothing she could do in her present state. And she needed the time alone to come to terms with what had happened. Without the smothering presence of her team members. They all had jobs to do, and as long as she was a weak link, they weren’t going to be able to perform.
By the time Cathy made it back, P.J. knew exactly what she was going to do. With Cathy’s help she changed into scrubs and the two took the stairs and ducked out of one of the personnel entrances.
The checkpoints were more challenging. But Cathy told the truth. Sort of. She dropped KGI’s name, said that P.J. was being discharged and that she was giving her a ride out.
“You can drop me anywhere in Clarksville,” P.J. said. “I can get a ride to the airport.”
“Fuck you,” Cathy said rudely. “I’ll take you to the airport.”
“But you just worked an entire shift. The airport is over two hours away.”
“I can run you up to Paducah. Might take you a little longer to get where you’re going, but you know the minute the guys figure out you flew the coop, they’re going to look at Nashville and Memphis.”
P.J. sighed. “You’re probably right. Paducah it is.”
“You know you can stay with me as long as you like,” Cathy added quietly.
“Thank you for being a friend,” P.J. said, a knot growing in her throat. “It means a lot.”
Cathy glanced over at her. “Just as long as you realize that you do have friends, P.J. And that you can lean on them from time to time. It’s in the friend’s codebook. Scout’s honor.”
P.J. smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
“Okay, well let’s get you to that airport. You got money?”
“I have my ID and a credit card. That’ll get me where I’m going.”
“All right then. Let’s hit the road.”
CHAPTER 15
THE war room on the KGI compound was filled with a large group of very pissed-off men. Steele stood to one side with his team—minus one. Noticeably absent P.J. Cole stood shoulder to shoulder with his team leader as he surveyed the other occupants of the room.
Rio and his team, consisting of Terrence, Diego, Decker and Alton, stood looking haggard and tired. They too were down one man. Browning, who’d betrayed Rio’s trust in a previous mission. Rio was a hard, unforgiving bastard and you only got one chance to fuck him over. Browning was lucky Rio hadn’t killed him, but he’d cut him loose and walked away from him.
And then there were the Kellys: Sam, Garrett, Donovan, Ethan, Nathan and Joe. And Swanny, the newest recruit to KGI.
The room bristled with rage and testosterone overload. The silence was heavy but the undercurrents were electric. Cole knew what was on the minds of every single member of KGI.
Revenge.
Vengeance for one of their own.
“What happened, Steele?” Garrett asked, first to break the silence. “And I don’t want any of that I failed my team bullshit. Just the facts.”
“Why the fuck was she left alone?” Rio demanded.
His temper was on edge and he simmered with anger. Cole could see the fear in his eyes and knew he was thinking of Grace, and that once, Grace had been as helpless as P.J. had been.
He also knew that Rio and P.J. were friends of sorts. As much as P.J. allowed anyone to get close to her. She and Rio had hung out in that dive P.J. frequented. It had pissed him off that she’d made it obvious he wasn’t welcome when apparently she and Rio had thrown back a few drinks together.
Sam held up his hands. “Enough. We need to figure out what the fuck went wrong so it never happens again.”
“I should have stayed closer to her in the ballroom,” Donovan said tightly. “I wanted her to get close to Nelson, but he took her out the back, and before I could get over to keep an eye on her, he’d gotten her into a car.”
“It was the fucking traffic,” Dolphin seethed. “We would have been able to intercept her at the hotel. They were there long enough that he took off her bracelet. If we hadn’t gotten caught in the wreck, we would have tagged her leaving the hotel and we would have been in the house as soon as we knew Brumley was there.”
Garrett frowned. “Do you think he made her? Is that why Nelson took the bracelet?”
Steele shook his head. “No, I think this was just routine. If it weren’t for Brumley, Nelson would have just taken P.J. back to the hotel thinking he was going to get some action and we would have been there the whole time. But Brumley saw her and decided he wanted her. He’s a cagey, paranoid bastard and he wanted Nelson to make sure she was clean before he brought her to Brumley’s house.”
“So what now?” Ethan asked, his tone somber.
His jaw was tight as well. His wife, Rachel, had been a victim and had undergone an entire year of captivity in South America before Ethan was tipped off that she wasn’t dead, like the entire family had thought.
They were all on edge. Nerves were frayed. The women that had married into the Kelly family, and the woman who’d married Rio, were all resilient women who’d all experienced tragedy in one shape or another.
Rachel, Sophie, Sarah, Shea and Grace were weighing heavily on all their minds. And now violence—violation—had touched P.J. Their teammate. Partner. A woman that had Cole’s insides so twisted up that his stomach was one giant ball of anxiety.
“We go after those fuckers,” Cole seethed. “That’s what’s now.”
Dolphin, Renshaw and Baker nodded grimly. Even Steele looked like he was in total agreement.
Sam and Garrett exchanged uneasy glances.
Donovan’s cell phone went off, breaking the awkward silence. He glanced down, frowned and then put it to his ear.
Cole didn’t tune in until Donovan swore and said, “She did what? And you just let her walk out of there? What the hell happened? How did this happen? I want some damn answers.”
Everyone focused intently on Donovan as he listened to the person on the other end of the line. Then he cursed again and shoved the phone back into the clip at his side.
“What the fuck is going on?” Cole demanded.
Donovan blew out his breath. “I don’t even know how to say this. P.J. checked out. Or ra
ther she didn’t check out. She just walked out.”
There was an explosion of what-the-fucks that echoed around the room.
“Where?” Cole bit out. He didn’t care about the details. He just wanted to know where to find her.
Donovan looked like he’d just swallowed barbed wire. “No idea. She didn’t exactly inform the on-duty people that she was planning to take off.”
“Son of a bitch,” Steele swore.
The others cast surprised glances in his direction. Garrett raised an eyebrow, but Cole wasn’t as aghast as the others.
Steele may be a cold-blooded machine to some, but Cole knew his team leader was invested absolutely in his team. He considered each and every member his, and he was possessive and protective of them all. He didn’t take shit from anyone, and he expected instant obedience when he gave an order, but everything he did, every decision he ever made, was for the good of the team, and he’d never do anything to compromise their safety.
“Where would she go?” Sam asked softly.
He directed the statement to Cole and his team members. They knew her best, but Cole wanted to laugh at that idea. Did anyone really know P.J.? Did anyone know what made her tick?
Renshaw shook his head. “She’s private, man. She doesn’t talk a lot about personal shit. I wouldn’t have the first clue where to start looking.”
“Get on the phone and start calling the airports. Every one in a hundred-mile radius,” Sam said to Ethan. “See what you can find out. I don’t care what kind of story you have to make up or what kind of strings you have to pull. Just get it done.”
“I’m on it,” Ethan said, striding toward the computer as he spoke.
“And what if we find her?” Nathan asked. “We can’t make her stay where we put her. Or where we want her. We can’t make her accept our . . . help. Or support, even as much as we want to give it.”
No one had a ready answer for that. Cole didn’t need to verbalize his intentions. P.J. needed them. She needed someone. He didn’t give a shit about her lone-wolf status in life.
