HIS Series Box Set (Books 4-7)

by Sheila Kell

  Now he could focus his efforts here, but he feared it might be too late. Not being able to reach anyone in Montana on a cell didn’t sit well. The team prepared themselves to walk into an all-out war if that happened to be the case. It had to be close to that for no one to respond to his repeated calls and texts.

  Turning to the team members on his helicopter, he hailed the second chopper with more HIS men and women—to include his wife—over the radio. Then, on an open mic, he spoke to them all with a plan. It might not be the entire team, but it was enough personnel to do the job.

  Thank the fuck they’d all seen the plans of the grounds and had pictures of workers so no innocents were caught in the crosshairs. “Danny and Steve,”—who they’d picked up along the way—“you’ve got the main house. Clear it as quickly as you can.” He paused. “Rob and Joe, you’ve got the outbuildings and corralling any workers. Find my brothers and see what the hell is going on in the area.” Another pause as he went through the list of who remained. Shitty time for Jake to have a team in the UAE. “Kate and Rylee, you’ve got perimeter. Don’t let anyone in or out. Brad and Dev, you’re with me on the burning building.” He’d rather have his wife with him, but he might need his brothers’ strength to lift anyone who needed help. Plus she was a crackshot. With all seriousness, he asked, “Dev, do you think you can make it down the rope?” Devon hadn’t failed at his repelling training, but he hadn’t been a big success either. Jesse wouldn’t have asked him to participate if he didn’t think he needed every available hand on deck for this. Whatever it was. A rich kid with endless funds could buy anything… and anyone.

  “You can count on me,” Devon replied firmly.

  Fuck, how he wished he knew more. Going in blind sucked, but so did waiting around to see what was happening.

  “I can’t get any closer or I’ll fan those flames,” the pilot said. “And I can’t land here if you want both of us to land at the same time. You’ll have to go from here or wait for me to find a larger landing spot.”

  Not willing to wait, the men stood ready to jump out of a perfectly good helicopter on a rope for the sake of family. While he hated they tended to be in trouble lately, the men would do anything—without pay—to keep any of them safe. Admittedly he’d try to compensate them, but in the past, every member of the team refused anything in exchange. The Hamiltons were their family also.

  “We’re going from here,” Jesse stated forcefully. After connecting himself to the rope with the clamp on his harness, he slipped on a pair of leather gloves, leaned back into the cockpit and covertly snagged two cylinders, slipping them in his pants side pockets. He didn’t need the pilot telling him no. Successful in his hopefully forgivable theft, he stepped to the open door. “Hurry your asses down,” he told the team. Then he stepped out of the helicopter into nothing, working the rope with his gloved hands to reach the ground as quickly and safely possible.

  Once on the ground, he cleared himself, then stepped back so others could begin their descent.

  Brad, who had exited out the other side of the helicopter, approached him with a grim expression. “We’d best hurry our asses if what is happening is what we both think is happening.”

  Jessie nodded. “I’ll breach the back. You and Dev clear and help me out the front. Maybe we’ll be lucky and the building is clear.” Without waiting for the rest of the team to hit the ground, he pulled up the rifle he’d stashed across his shoulder and hustled toward the house and outbuildings with Brad beside him. Even though fieldwork wasn’t his thing, Jesse felt confident that Devon would catch up from the other helicopter. He’d come through when Rylee had been in trouble; he’d come through again.

  Before they reached the house, a group of men and women with weapons had spread out in support of finding Trent, Matt, AJ, and Kelly while stopping Reggie and any cohorts he might have active on the ranch.

  The assholes didn’t know what they’d done. No one fucked with a Hamilton. No one.

  TRENT CAME ALERT with a sudden sharpness, assessed his situation and steeled himself. His side hurt like hell, and he could tell by the dampness of his shirt that he still bled. The noticeable absence of his earpiece and microphone—his hope of rescue—sank his heart. Fucking Brightmore.

  It felt like a mile, but Kelly lay only four feet from him, tied and unconscious. A deep gash appeared in his heart at the impact of her position. Please let her be unconscious and not dead. Pushing away the pain as best he could, he struggled against the ropes tied around his hands and feet. His heart pounded almost painfully in his chest. Pure panic flooded his system, but he just as quickly squashed it with the calm needed to see this through. He had to save Kelly and the baby. He had to find a way.

  Coughing as the smoke from the fire made its way to them, Trent thought frantically. They were both bound and tossed on their sides just waiting for the fire to make it in their direction. The fucker hadn’t even had the balls to kill them outright.

  Already sweating from the heat, he didn’t want the added challenge of the actual flames. Knowing the pain associated with severe burns, he’d do everything he could to protect Kelly from suffering a similar fate.

  His mind firmly resolved that they would not die like this. AJ and Matt had to know they were still in here. What the hell was taking them so long to take care of the men they’d said jumped them when he’d announced Reggie’s presence over the open mic? Knowing the two men had needed time, he’d tried to keep Brightmore talking, but they hadn’t come, which meant they’d had more than they could handle. Shit. Fucking shit.

  Moving his body like an inchworm to get closer to Kelly, he stopped at the initial move, almost crying out. The pain in his side seared through him. Thank God the fucker couldn’t hold the gun still and that Trent had been shot in the side and not the gut. But Reggie had still hit him, and a gunshot wound was nothing to play around with.

  The room darkened as the thick smoke filled the space and began to slip lower. His eyes burned from just blinking in the air. Coughing again, Trent’s heart clenched because Kelly hadn’t been coughing. Christ, was she even breathing? Praying again—more than he could remember doing in his lifetime—he silently pleaded. He couldn’t lose them, not now, not ever.

  He tugged against the restraints holding his arms behind his back again and wanted to scream in frustration. Check on Kelly, he told himself, while you work the ropes. Ignoring the pain and resulting oozing of blood, he inched toward her until his head touched hers. Tilting this head until his nose was sideways beneath hers, he held his breath until he felt hers. Immense relief washed through him. She was alive.

  Shifting his head near her ear, he breathed a heavy sigh when he made some leeway with the knot on the ropes at his wrists. “Kelly, angel, I need you to wake up.”

  While coughing hard enough to burn his throat raw, he almost rejoiced when she began to cough, even though she hadn’t woken yet. One step at a time. Panic seized him, though. Flames licked on the doorframe from the back. They didn’t have much time. Please let Brightmore have underestimated Kelly and left her restraints loose enough so I don’t have to fight to untie her.

  After more of what seemed to be futile straining again against his bonds, the snap shocked him. Bringing his hands around, he stretched and moved them to get the blood flow working again.

  As loudly as he could speak, he said, “Kelly, please wake up,” but it came out more of a hoarse whisper with the burning in his throat.

  Another coughing fit seized him. Tears left his eyes, and he didn’t know if they were from the smoke or from the potential loss of his and her life. No. He was one step closer. He could save them. Adrenaline surged through him.

  He positioned himself to a sitting position so he could begin untying the bonds at his ankles. As he leaned over, a moment too late, he realized someone had snuck up behind him. Not that he could do much to defend himself in his current situation. Maybe swing out his weak arms, but that’d be about it since he couldn’t stand and get
a good purchase. Surprisingly, the culprit put a mask over his face. Over the roar of the flames and creak of the building as it burned to cinder, he heard Jesse say in his ear, “Breathe slow and steady.”

  Not needing to be told twice, he took a gulp of air, then inclined his head to Kelly. He had to get the air to her… and to the baby.

  “I’m way ahead of you.” Jesse produced another mask with a small canister, like the ones pilots used, and knelt beside Kelly before carefully placing it on her face. His heart sank when she didn’t wake. What the hell had they done to her? She needed medical help. So do you, buddy. He shrugged that off. Not until he knew Kelly was okay.

  Crouched down to avoid the smoke drifting lower, Jesse turned back to Trent and pulled a vicious looking knife from his combat boot and stepped over him to slice through the bindings on his ankles.

  Removing the rope while watching Jesse cut through Kelly’s restraints, hope flared in Trent even though his hands and feet stung like a bitch from where they were regaining circulation. God, he hoped he could walk. Who the hell was he fooling? He’d crawl his ass out of here if he had to—as long as he had Kelly with him.

  He stripped off his jacket against the sweltering heat, the stretching of his arms and torso ripping at his wound. Shifting his mask away long enough to speak as clearly as possible, he asked, “How did you get in?” A deep hacking cough hit him, and he covered his mouth. Once again, he displaced the mask to speak. “Can we can get out that way? I don’t know where they’ve gone.” They being the assholes who tied him and Kelly up, but he figured Jesse understood that.

  The smoke lowered again, so they remained down on their hands and knees. Trent worried for a moment about Jesse not wearing a mask but knew he and Kelly needed the pure oxygen more than his brother did… at the moment. They had to hurry.

  Jesse shook his head. “No can do. I came in the back since we weren’t sure what was going on. It’s not passable to go back.” He nodded to the connecting archway to the game room that had flames licking around the edges of it. “We’re going out there.” He pointed to the front door.

  “That door is going to be hot as fuck to get out of. In case you didn’t notice, it’s metal.”

  “It’ll be opened for us.” He surveyed the area. “One of us is going to have to carry her.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said through the mask, not caring if he’d been understood. She was his. His responsibility. His love. His life. He’d do whatever it took to save her.

  “Then keep the masks because you’re going to have to do this standing—No, do it on your knees. It’ll be slower, but less of a blinding smoke. I’ll crawl beside you where I can see our path and guide you by holding onto your shirt.”

  Trust. A whole lot of trust went into what needed to happen. While he knew Jesse wouldn’t lead him astray, carrying an unconscious Kelly—hell, even a conscious one—into thick smoke knowing that if he went the wrong way could mean death, frazzled his already fraught nerves.

  Ensuring Kelly’s mask was fastened and the bottle rested on her chest, while on his knees, Trent lifted and cradled her to him. His wound screamed but he ignored it for her sake. He’d never tell her, but dead weight with a baby, made her incredibly heavy, but he’d lift the world to rescue her. Jesse adjusted where Trent’s oxygen bottle rested, dropped down on all fours, then, as promised, reached out with his right hand and held Trent’s shirt.

  Moving on his knees was excruciatingly slow. He couldn’t get her to safety fast enough for his liking. Sweating from the heat, exertion, and not to mention pain, he wondered if he’d end up with ice on him once they walked outside to the freezing cold.

  With Kelly nestled in his arms, he blindly trudged forward with Jesse’s hand tight on his shirt. Even with his eyes closed tight, tears slid down his face from the thick smoke. He couldn’t even imagine if he’d tried to stand tall and walk her out.

  The clank of the front door opened and a whoosh went through the place as oxygen fed the fire, rushing the flames forward until he felt the searing heat near his body.

  Before Trent could surge forward, someone grabbed Kelly from his arms and someone else was escorting him, both men wearing masks similar to his and Kelly’s. Eager to follow the man who held his woman, he rushed behind him, almost bumping into him when he slowed outside the door. But the man didn’t stop until they were well away from the building. It was Brad who knelt down and gently laid Kelly on the grass. Beside Trent, Devon removed his mask.

  Glancing around, Trent noticed the activity of HIS as a couple team members pulled out a large hose and watered the buildings around the bunkhouse, catching flying embers before they could connect with the roof. Obviously they’d written off the ranch hands’ space.

  In contrast, most of HIS wasn’t watching what was happening; they focused on keeping the area clear. Their injured—AJ and Matt—were being scrutinized by Rodney—a new team member who’d been a medic in the marines. AJ’s wrist hung at an odd angle. Whatever the damage, it looked painful. One of Matt’s eyes had swollen, and his clothing was torn. Trent guessed they had one hell of a time themselves.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Jesse said. “They’ll get spoilt once Kate and Rylee come off point and can give their attention to the men.”

  Those two women behind assault rifles still awed him. They were strong and didn’t flinch when most women would. It was why they are so good as part of HIS.

  Kelly still hadn’t moved, and he worried even more. How long could she and the baby be deprived of good oxygen? Had it been too long? Mike would know how long the ambulances would take to get all the way out here.

  Mike. Fear sliced through him. Where the hell was Mike? He wanted to run to the house but wouldn’t leave his angel. “Has anyone checked on Mike yet?” he yelled, although it came out as a raspy whisper with the rawness of his throat.

  “The old man in the house?” Brad asked, then continued when Trent nodded, “He’s got a head wound. He’s conscious, but we’ve kept him at the house until EMTs arrive. Danny and Steve are with him.”

  Kelly coughed, and he leaned closer to her and removed the mask. That was probably idiotic as she needed pure oxygen, but he had to be close and hear her. Once she stopped coughing, she blinked a few times, as if trying to bring him into focus. His eyes watered, but he figured it was because of the residual smoke effects like in his eyes. “Trent,” she croaked in a low voice.

  He smiled and kissed her lips as happiness and relief shot through him. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even more so with her face a sooty mess. “Hello, angel, you gave me quite a scare. You okay?”

  “I’m alive.” Panic filled her eyes. “The baby? Do you think the baby’s hurt?”

  Brushing some hair from her face, he smiled. “I’m sure she’s fine.” He felt like he’d lied since he had no ability to predict that information. “There’s an ambulance on the way, so we’ll have you checked out. Just in case.”

  “Where’s Reggie?” she asked. “That bastard hit me on the head.”

  Jesse stepped forward. “He got away, but there’s an APB out for him, so you won’t have to worry about him. Devon was busy while we were traveling and we’ve enough to help the police put together a nice case on him.”

  Matt stumbled toward them and slapped his twin on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping with the fuckers who jumped us.”

  As large as Matt’s shoulders were, it was hard to believe anyone could get a jump on him. But crazy shit happened all the time.

  “You’re bleeding,” AJ said to Trent when he ambled over.

  He’d all but forgotten about his wound even though it pained him fiercely. Kelly’s safety had consumed him. Only now, that he knew she was safe, did he feel himself slipping. He placed a hand down to his side. “Gunshot.”

  Rodney rushed over to him. “Let me see.” Probing and looking at both sides of the wound, he frowned. “It’s a through and through. I’d say since the bleeding has mostly stop
ped, nothing vital was hit—at least not enough to notice. But, you’ll have to go to the hospital to have the wound checked for minor damage and stitched. I could stitch it, but I don’t dare lift the shirt because it looks like you’ve some dried blood around the edges of the wound and I don’t want to start it bleeding more. Plus there might be bits of your shirt in the wound that need to be cleaned out.”

  At the pain from the probing, Trent dropped to the ground beside Kelly, unable to hold himself upright any longer. The wound seared his side and wrenched his stomach.

  As the sirens approached, Jesse spoke of how they’d flown into the airport but had rented transport helicopters to get there as quickly as possible.

  “By the way, Jesse, the pilot and copilot were pretty pissed when you lifted their oxygen masks without asking. But, I think they’ll get over it when they hear how the apparatuses helped save lives,” Brad said.

  “Funny, they were bitching about it in our chopper when Kate did the same thing.” Rodney laughed.

  Trent looked down at the mini-oxygen tank he held in his hand and smiled, thankful they’d had the foresight to swipe them. Whatever it took to accomplish the mission.

  He could’ve lost Kelly and Ashley. Sure he could’ve also died, but he couldn’t imagine his life without them in it. Someone had been looking over his shoulder to bless him with the Hamilton men as brothers and friends.

  Holding Kelly’s hand, Trent leaned over and whispered, “We’re going to be okay, angel.”

  WITH REGGIE CAPTURED at the Billings airport when he tried to leave Montana, like he hadn’t just tried to murder a couple of people, and with no lasting effects from the smoke for him or Kelly, Trent set off to do what else had to be done. What he’d promised two women he’d do. Set right his past, present, and future with one man.

  Trent stood on Senator Blake Hamilton’s doorstep in Washington, D.C. and raised his finger to press the doorbell and dropped it before he completed the act. With his heart pounding loudly in his chest, he spun away from the door. I can’t do this. Two women’s voices mixed in his head telling him he had to. That no matter how things turned out, he wouldn’t be completely free until he did. Jamie and Kelly.