The Strength of His Heart

by Victoria Sue

  Eli ignored him and started walking to the elevator, but Adam hung back for him. “No, just Talon was insistent I was here.”

  “How long have you got to stay in the halfway house?”

  “Another four months, but I don’t know what I’m going to do then.” Adam looked at Eli’s retreating back, and Sam followed his gaze. “He shares with Sawyer.”

  “He does?” Sam was surprised. They didn’t seem particularly tight.

  Adam nodded and scrubbed his face. “Yeah.” They talked casually as they headed for the elevator. Adam asked Sam if he’d seen last night’s postseason exhibition game, and Sam admitted he wasn’t particularly interested. Adam crinkled his eyes in humor. “Don’t let Vance hear you say that.”

  Talon wasn’t there when they got in, but everyone else was, and in a couple of minutes, Talon stormed in. Sam took one look at his face and fell quiet, along with the rest of the team.

  He shut the door and looked at Gael. “Keep an ear out in case anyone happens to walk past.”

  Gael nodded and went to stand next to the closed door. Sam frowned. He knew the enhanced had good hearing, but….

  “ENu mounted a raid on the Connellys’ home an hour ago.”

  “What the fuck?” Jake said, astounded.

  “Apparently some prick in narcotics decided because Vance was enhanced, they better bring in ENu. Mac Carmichael insisted that he needed to get to Vance before the team found out, because any whiff of Vance’s name and the entire TPD would know. Daniel’s—”

  Gael opened the door, and Daniel walked in. He met Talon’s gaze with an equally furious one. “When this is over, I’m going to have Carmichael’s badge if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”

  “What happened?” Sam was surprised his voice actually worked.

  Daniel glowered at Sam. “What happened was those bastards never gave him a chance. Carmichael insisted Vance resisted, which we know is complete crap.”

  “What do you mean?” Sawyer asked, and Sam was glad because he wasn’t sure he would have been able to.

  “He was shot with their IM rifles.”

  Jake shoved away from the table. “Rifles? As in more than one? Two of the fuckers hit him?”

  Daniel gave a shake of his head, a jerky motion that seemed to be more disbelief than the denial it intended. “All of them, Jake. Five. The bastards shot him five times. They had to get the paramedics. I—”

  All the team rose to their feet in outrage, but Sam didn’t seem able to get his legs to work. Five. Five times. They were allowed to fire twice in extenuating circumstances. Five would— “He’s okay?” Sam suddenly found his voice. “Did they admit him?”

  Daniel nodded. “He’s alive, and narcotics insisted he be transferred to the unit immediately. Apparently they have a medical facility onsite with ‘experience.’”

  “Experience of what?” Sam snapped incredulously. He looked at Talon. “He needs a doctor. Doc Natalie—”

  Talon put his hand out, and everyone subsided. “I spoke to the paramedics. He’s still pretty much out of it, but his vitals were in normal range, so they had no choice but to let him go. Alec Raymonds was in charge of the op, and apparently he’s already been slapped for involving ENu.” He glanced around. “Vance’s other brothers are on their way in, and there’re three sergeants downstairs who have volunteered whatever help we need to get him released. There’re also two sergeants from narcotics who know they’ve fucked up. From the brief conversation I had with Jacob, Carmichael had better not show his face anywhere near any of the TPD today.” Talon gazed at Finn, who seemed completely distraught. “And I couldn’t tell any of them it was my idea.”

  “ENu wasn’t your idea,” Finn pointed out.

  Talon scraped a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I put him at so much risk.”

  Sam looked down at his hands, suddenly registering the pain and realizing he was digging his own nails into his palms. “What can I do?”

  Talon shook his head. “There isn’t anything we can do. Apparently the assistant director says we should take the ENu incident as a plus.”

  “The hell?” Gael said.

  “It further cements his cover,” Talon ground out.

  Sam almost closed his eyes in horror.

  “And so does the outrage of our own cops.”

  “So we’re supposed to do what… wait?”

  Adam jumped when Eli spoke. But it seemed like Vance was liked by even the people who didn’t like anyone else.

  Sam thought furiously. He needed to find Jaylen and see if this case was connected. He looked at his phone and glanced at Talon, the remnants of an idea forming. “I think it would be a good idea for me to go see Buchanan. He might have made contacts.”

  Talon nodded. “But don’t go charging off anywhere on your own. I want to know where you are and what you’re doing at all times.” Talon and Daniel stood up. “I’m going to share what I know with Eric and Chris. Gregory is talking to the lieutenant.”

  Sam stayed seated as everyone trooped out. It was still only just after four in the morning. He was going to go home and pack a bag. He would call Buchanan, but he needed to find Jaylen. All Jaylen’s contacts were in Baton Rouge, so despite what Talon had said, that’s where he needed to go.

  He knew Vance wasn’t in there because of him. Logically it was very likely it was his strength and ability that had put him on the radar with the drug cartels, but Sam had worked for them for a lot of years. Hell, if he were completely honest, between his childhood, his mom, and his job, there had been barely two years of his twenty-seven he hadn’t been involved in some way or another. It sometimes seemed no matter what he did to get away, he kept getting sucked back in. He wasn’t sure it didn’t make him much different from the hundreds of addicts he had met over the years. Eyes only on one thing. Desperate to score whatever the cost. Nothing else mattered. Partners, love, loyalty. He’d put himself first in everything he had done since his mom hadn’t come home that night. He’d lectured his adult self for a long time that he didn’t really miss her but the image of what she represented, but that was a lie. He would love to feel her arms around him once more. He was sure it had been that way when he was very little, before she learned to love chiva more than her son.

  When had he become like her? When had he decided to put himself first above everything? It wasn’t how he wanted to live, but it seemed like he couldn’t remember living any other way. Vance had stood up for him and with him more times than he could count in the last few weeks. Without question, without hesitation. And then last night Sam had let him down again.

  Maybe it was Sam’s turn to be the partner Vance needed, even if he was no longer the partner Vance wanted.

  “SAM?”

  Sam looked up in shock just as he unlocked his apartment door.

  Ramirez took a step as if to follow Sam through the open door but stopped when Sam didn’t move.

  “You got company in there or something?” Ramirez hissed. “Come on, I need to talk to you.” Ramirez ran his hands down his legs. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he took in the panicked, jittery movement.

  “And you couldn’t pick up the phone?”

  Ramirez just gestured to the door, and Sam had no choice but to walk through, letting Ramirez follow him.

  “I tried to see you yesterday, but you’re hanging with your new friends,” he sneered.

  Sam’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t work in the DEA anymore. My boss wanted me back.”

  “You know you could have insisted on staying—”

  “Why?” Sam’s shoulders rose. Then he paused. “Has Jaylen been in touch?”

  “That’s why we need you.” Ramirez licked his lips. “He won’t talk to anyone else.”

  He’s lying. Living on the street had taught Sam a ton about body language. The pause while Ramirez worked out his responses. The way he scanned the apartment. “Then contact my ASAC. I can’t leave without his say-so.” He took a step back, suddenly realizing he’
d made a mistake coming in here. Ramirez drew in a shaky breath. The fingers of his hand trembled as they swiped his face. “What’s wrong?” Ramirez was definitely rattled, and why on earth would he come here? Protocol meant he had to contact Gregory at the very least.

  “I need your help.” Ramirez took a short, choppy breath.

  “Shit.” Sam groaned as understanding slammed into him. “You’re using again.” Not so much a question. He’d worked with drugs too long to miss it. “Eddie, you said you were clean.” He took another step back. “I can’t be involved in this, not anymore. You need help, man.”

  Ramirez stood straighter. “I know, and I will. I promise.”

  It was sickening. Ramirez had gone too far under on a case and taken what he’d been forced into to dodge a bullet. It could have happened to any one of them, and Ramirez had been lucky. He knew someone and had managed to get clean without the brass finding out, and Ramirez had been good for two years. Or so Sam had thought.

  “How many times have we heard people make that promise to us, Eddie?” Sam said gently and pulled out his phone. “Let me—”

  The gun that Ramirez pulled even quicker shut Sam up. “Don’t move, Sam,” Ramirez snapped out. “Keep them hands exactly where I can see them, and I’ll take that.” He snatched the phone out of Sam’s hand and threw it down, then stamped on it. Keeping his eyes very firmly fixed on Sam, he scraped up the pieces and put them in his pocket.

  If Sam hadn’t had a gun pointing at him, he would have closed his eyes in despair. “Fuck, Eddie, what the hell are you doing? When did things get that bad?”

  “Nothing’s bad, Sam,” he said, seeming calmer. “But someone we both know wants to see you—”

  Jaylen’s near identical words came back instantly. He nearly called Ramirez out on it, but seeing as how Ramirez was pointing his Glock at him, that was probably not a good idea. “Who wants to see me, sir?” Sam asked, deliberately giving Ramirez the respect of rank even though the bastard clearly didn’t deserve it.

  “You’ll see.” Ramirez waved the gun to indicate he was to walk out. As they left the apartment, he could hear sirens in the distance. “And don’t worry about your guard dogs. They just got called out to a house fire around the corner.”

  Sam swallowed in sick defeat that someone else might have gotten hurt because of him. Ramirez was right, though. The black-and-white was gone, and no one else cared to notice the two men exit the apartment and get into the old Toyota that had pulled up alongside it. Ramirez pushed Sam into the back seat of the car and slid in alongside him. The guy driving never looked behind at them, and his baseball cap covered most of his face.

  “Go,” Ramirez said and turned to Sam. He nodded to the door. “It won’t open, so don’t bother trying.” He rested his jittery hand holding the gun on his knee, and Sam took a breath.

  “Where are we going?”

  Ramirez just grinned as they turned a corner, then drove up a side street and headed onto the highway. They drove. Sam peered out. They’d pulled into a near deserted construction area. Who the hell would be here? The car came to a stop, and before Sam had a chance to ask any more questions, the driver got out.

  Cold raced through Sam’s veins. Shit. He eyed the gun Ramirez was holding. Ramirez laughed. “Don’t worry, I want you alive.” Ramirez pulled a scarf out of one of the pockets behind the front seat. “I have to blindfold you.” He waved the gun. “Turn around.”

  This was why they had stopped. Ramirez passed the gun to the driver while he picked up the scarf. It would have been a chance for Sam once Ramirez had to put the gun down. They also hadn’t wanted to do it in front of his apartments where they could be seen.

  Sam tried desperately to take a slower breath; he had no choice but to turn around. Ramirez quickly blindfolded him and then yanked his arms behind him and cuffed them.

  Sam didn’t make a sound. He wouldn’t give Ramirez the satisfaction. He heard the driver get in, and a minute later they were moving again. After barely five minutes, Sam didn’t have any idea where he was. He’d only had just over two weeks here before they got sent to Baton Rouge, and it felt like they were driving around in circles, which they might have been. After a few minutes, Sam felt the car speed up. He guessed they were on the highway, but he had no clue which. It seemed like they were driving forever, and at a very rough guess, he would have said an hour, but he wasn’t sure. For all he knew, they could be deliberately trying to disorient him. And sitting with his hands cuffed was hell.

  He couldn’t help wondering what Vance was doing.

  After another ten minutes, he guessed, they slowed and pulled off the highway. A couple of turns and Ramirez said, “Around the back.”

  The car stopped, and Sam heard the driver move, and then abruptly his door was opened and he was yanked out. “Where d’ya wan’im?”

  Sam tried to turn his face away from the stench of garlic and cigarettes.

  “Follow me,” Ramirez answered, and after another minute, while Sam stumbled, unable to see where he was going, he felt the air-conditioning of a building, the smell of disinfectant, and the clang of what sounded like a gate.

  He was pushed forward none too gently and stumbled just as he heard a soft laugh in front of him. Someone yanked the blindfold off.

  It took Sam a few seconds until he could bear to open his eyes and another to focus. Sam stared in front of him. His mind told him what he was seeing, but his brain refused to process it. Four armed guards stood on either side of the couple in front of him. A man he had never seen before—gray-haired, middle-aged—in a suit. The woman in a blue dress, full face of makeup, a lopsided smile on her face.

  She took a step toward him, and her smile widened, but Sam still didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Hola, mi hijo.”

  Hello, my son.

  Chapter Thirteen

  VANCE OPENED his eyes to bright strip lighting, had a WTF moment, and realized where he was. The two guards—one male, one female—standing on either side of the gurney he lay on kind of gave him the biggest clue. He didn’t recognize the uniform, but as it belonged to a private company, he wasn’t surprised. Fucking ENu, but it must have worked, though. He was here.

  “Connelly.” A white-coated man peered down at him. Vance opened his mouth to correct his designation to Agent Connelly, and then he paused.

  Because right now he wasn’t.

  His mouth was incredibly dry, and he noticed the IV line running into the back of his hand. Great. He’d never been a hospital patient in all his twenty-five years, and now it had happened twice in the space of a week. They’d be calling him Finn next.

  “We had to give you triple the reversal agent, Connelly,” the white coat said in a bored voice. “Do you think you can sit up?”

  Vance nodded and pushed himself up, wincing at the headache. He’d only been shot with the rifles once before by Talon when they all started so they knew how it felt. He’d been out that time a couple of minutes but had woken up with the worst hangover ever. Even worse than the shit Daniel had sneaked him when he was eighteen. Daniel had insisted it was moonshine. Vance thought it smelled like paint stripper and probably tasted worse. But he’d been young and stupid. He wasn’t sure being seven years older made him much wiser right at this moment.

  He lifted his hand and felt an immediate pull of the heavy chains at his wrist. Vance didn’t bother testing them, but he doubted any metal chains would hold him if he really wanted to escape.

  The guns would be a problem, though. He couldn’t do anything cool with them like Sawyer or Talon.

  “Here, drink this.” Vance clasped the paper cup the man thrust at him and peered into it.

  “What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

  “What is it, sir?” the white coat repeated.

  Vance focused on him, not a hundred percent convinced he was serious. Late fifties, maybe more. Nondescript. The white coat indicated a doctor, but Vance didn’t want to assume.

  “Yes, sir,�
� Vance said agreeably. “And may I ask who you are?”

  “Dr. Benson,” he replied just as the door opened and a man in scrubs walked in. Vance did a double take as he glimpsed the scar on the left side of his face. The man ignored Vance, went to a fridge. He put some bottles away and then locked everything up and slipped out as silently as he had entered.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Vance dragged his eyes back to the doctor, who was taking his IV line out. He murmured an apology, but his brain was going a million miles an hour. An enhanced? An enhanced working here?

  Dr. Benson frowned. “I said it was water.” He turned to one of the guards. “Connelly can be taken to his cell. His ability is strength, but either your Tasers or your IM pistol will work if you need them.”

  Vance’s eyes fell to the guns strapped to their belts. So the guards carried sedatives and Tasers. Right. Vance gambled on the water being exactly what it was—because really, if they could shoot him with sedatives, there was no reason to disguise any in a drink—and downed it quickly. His head felt clearer after a few seconds, and he glanced down at his chained wrist as the male guard came over to unlock it.

  “Stand up. Hands in front of you.” Vance did exactly as he was told while cuffs and chains were attached to his ankles and looped to his cuffed wrists. He could take small steps but not much else. The doctor waved his hand dismissively, and the guard said, “Follow me.”

  Vance shuffled out between them into a boring corridor with closed doors that reminded him of the field office, and he wondered what the team was doing. Who are you trying to fool? He knew damn well he was wondering what Sam was doing. What would Sam have said when he found out what happened? He remembered Daniel’s outraged shout before the dipshits fired on him. Did his mom and dad know?

  He passed through three locked gates and into an open area. He spied the cells immediately and glanced at the dais containing a desk and two chairs. Two guards were sitting at the little command center, and there were three benches and tables arranged in the middle. It was a little like looking at a cheap motel. Two rows of seven rooms and a small staircase at either end leading up to the top row. But each front wall and door was completely see-through. As he walked nearer, heads turned as each cell’s occupant wanted to see who was arriving. Vance didn’t recognize anyone from the database, and he didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved.