by Jayne Rylon
“No more.” He tried to snatch her phone from her grasp, but she danced out of his reach. His face crumpled. Bitterness or despair, maybe both, marred his handsome face. “I can’t take it. I’m all shriveled up. I used to be a soldier. A man. Now look at me!”
“I am.” She clicked send on her message, set her phone down, then approached as she would a wild animal, though he didn’t shift. When she stooped to his level, she took his face between her hands and stared straight into his eyes. “I see one of the bravest men I’ve ever known. One of the strongest too.”
“Bullshit.” He slammed his lids closed, and for a terrifying moment she thought he might cry.
Jambrea would have held him if he had, but she figured only one woman would have that privilege. He shook off the raincloud hovering over him, gathered himself with several deep breaths then blinked away his emotions. It surprised the hell out of her when he tapped the tattoo on her wrist.
“‘I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself’, right?” He cleared his throat.
“Damn straight.” She swooped in for a sneak-attack hug, whether he liked it or not.
“They told me if this last round of drugs didn’t clear up the problems, I might not have a choice anymore. Fighting isn’t an option. I’m gonna lose my leg, Jambi.” His gaze dropped to the tiled floor and stayed glued there. “I’ve lost the war. It’s over.”
“Oh, Lucas.” This time she couldn’t stay upright. She knelt between his knees and clasped his hand tight. “Yes, I believe that’s true. About your leg, not the rest. Can you smell it? The flesh is already lifeless in places. It can’t be undone. I’m so sorry. But…”
Maybe it was too soon for him to hear the truth.
“What? Don’t hold back now. Lay it on the line. I’d rather wrestle an enemy I know.” He swallowed hard.
“Honestly, I’ve wondered for some time if your quality of life would have been better with a prosthetic leg. Technology has come so far. People make amazing recoveries with the help of therapy and the proper equipment. You could be back to more of your old activities with time and hard work instead of losing energy while your body tries to achieve the impossible here. We consult with a specialist at the hospital sometimes. Dr. Mackenzie Walton. She’s the best in her field. She could be what you need.”
“I don’t think I’ve got it in me anymore. I’m tired.”
“No, you’re sick.” She refused to quit trying. “Your leg is deadweight. Dragging you down. Listen to the experts. You’ve got all of us to support you. We’ll be right there with you every step—”
“Step.” His disgruntled cackle broke her heart.
“It’s true.” Jambrea hoped her fellow nurse and the woman’s husbands would hurry. Even as she watched, sweat ran down Lucas’ face. He needed help, quickly. Or all his options would evaporate. They wouldn’t operate if they didn’t think his body was strong enough to endure the surgery. How much time had he spent persisting in a losing battle already?
He swayed and she steadied him, hoping she could lower his mass to the floor somewhat gently if he blacked out.
“I bet Ellie wouldn’t leave your side for a second.” Jambrea smiled when she thought of the other woman’s protectiveness.
“She’s crazy. She’d be better off worrying about herself.” Unkind, his words would have stung the vulnerable girl. Jambrea was glad her new friend hadn’t seen him lash out because the underlying pain and fear causing his dismissal might not have been as obvious to someone with emotional problems of her own. “I don’t want her around anymore.”
Why couldn’t things ever be simple?
“Jambi!” Matt’s fist probably came within a hairsbreadth of knocking a hole in the door, solid hardwood or not. “Did you use your fucking phone?”
Oopsy. Before she could explain the necessity—that it really was life or death—he rattled the door handle.
“Get the hell out of there. Quit playing around and move. JRad picked up a signal from in here. If he did, I guarantee you he’s not alone. We have to go before we have unwanted visitors.”
“Son of a bitch.” Lucas pushed to his feet with sheer determination and the thickly muscled arms that braced his weight on the bathroom counter. “And now I’ll be responsible for getting you all killed too. Fuck me. Ellie’s out there!”
“She’ll go with you to the hospital. You, Ty and Mason can keep her safe on the way. Once you’re away from me, you’ll be fine.” She couldn’t help herself from bestowing one last hug. “It’s going to be a long road, but you’re not going to walk it. One day, you’re going to run again.”
“Jambrea Jones!” Clint joined in the ruckus. “Get your sweet ass out here this instant.”
“Go.” Lucas squeezed her back, for a second, before she turned. He’d barely hiked his pants up around his bonier than usual hips when she flipped the lock and faced her lovers’ wrath. They didn’t have their contented faces on like they had after they’d screwed each other senseless. That serenity had vanished.
“I’ll explain on the way.” She grabbed one of each of their hands and tugged them toward the door. “I’m so sorry, but it had to be done. Trust me.”
“We do,” Matt promised.
Without additional questions, they hauled her toward the exit.
Clint glanced over his shoulder at Lucas. “Mason said he’ll be here in two minutes. Wait for him in the lobby, wherever the most people are gathered. Do you need help getting to the elevator?”
The trio paused before crossing the threshold.
“No, you go.” Ellie stood tall, approaching her unlikely friend. “Together, he and I can make it.”
“I think you’re exactly right.” Jambrea stared into Lucas’s wide eyes, hoping he received her message.
Lucas nodded, then said, “Run.”
Chapter Twelve
Matt and Clint hadn’t been kidding. The moment they burst from their room, they linked hands with her and sprinted for the stairwell, guns drawn. Flying down flight after flight, they reached the ground floor in record time. Slamming through the fire exit, they hopped off the loading dock, then reached up to lower her to the parking lot. From there, it was a matter of seconds before they piled into Matt’s truck and burned rubber.
Jambrea noticed a man in a black trench coat—far too heavy for the lovely weather—shouting to another guy who followed him as he tore along the sidewalk, running toward their vehicle. “Uh, Matt, you might want to floor it. I think someone’s spotted us.”
Clint swiveled his head, acting as his partner’s eyes and ears while the other man concentrated on driving. “Confirmed. No delays now, Matt. Hop the curb if you have to get out of here fast. Jambrea, stay down. Pretty sure they’re armed.”
She grunted when Clint put his hand on the nape of her neck and shoved. Bent like a human pretzel, her head at his lap level, she giggled as she kept her inappropriate thoughts to herself. It was that or cry. Her life had gone from bored-to-death to out-of-control in a single twenty-four hour period.
Sexapaloozas. International men of mystery. Secret codes. Injured friends.
Dead ex-lovers.
She shivered. A keening whimper left her as she thought of poor John. He didn’t deserve that kind of tragic end after all the people he’d served and protected in his lifetime. Certain she’d known his soul, even for a fleeting moment, she prayed for him. Something she rarely did.
These were special circumstances.
“Hang on, wild thing,” Clint shouted. “We’re going to have to swerve around the parking booth and pay the fine later. That or crash through it. Whatever you can do faster and with less chance of blowing a tire, Matt.”
From the pitch of the cab, which knocked her first into Matt then Clint, Jambrea guessed they’d dodged the mechanical arm blocking their path.
“Great. You’re losing them. I don’t see any other pursuers on foot or any suspicious vehicles.” An automated voice followed Clint’s information, doling out curt directio
ns. He’d programmed his GPS with the address Lucas had passed along. The electronic woman guided them down a main street that connected to the highway heading north out of the city.
A few minutes later, Jambrea asked, “Uh, guys, can I get up now or am I in training for mobile BJs down here?”
“Someday, when this is all sorted out, I might take you up on that.” Matt’s fingers pressed on the knots in her spine as he encouraged her to sit up.
“Not while you’re behind the wheel.” Clint shot him a glare. “If anyone’s getting a BJ, it’s me for having to ride along and put up with your crazy stunt driving.”
“Came in handy today, didn’t it?” The guys soothed her, even as they bickered. Familiar routines went a long way toward convincing a tiny part of her brain that everything was mostly normal, give or take a couple people who wanted to kill them.
Well, probably torture them for information, then murder them.
She shivered.
“It’s going to be okay, wild thing.” Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulder, careful not to disturb the bandaged section of her arm. “Did you take your medicine before we left?”
“Don’t think it’s smart to be chomping down narcotics right now. It’s okay. I doubled up on my ibuprofen and didn’t skip the antibiotics.” Though she obviously could take care of herself, it was nice to have him looking out for her too. Living on her own for so long had taught her how capable she was of independence, and also how ready she was to surrender a bit of it in exchange for this bond, deeper than friendship. “Although, now that you got me thinking about it…I’m pretty sure the prescriptions were on the bathroom sink. Shit.”
“We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you close your eyes for a little bit?” Matt encouraged her to rest. When she snuggled into Clint’s side and peeked at the gadget in his lap, she groaned. Three hours to go before they reached even the outskirts of John’s property.
Maybe it would be for the best if she checked out for a bit.
“Sweet dreams.” Clint kissed her forehead as she yawned.
“Naughty ones too,” Matt added, caressing the inside of her knee before he put both hands back on the wheel.
“Are we stopping for gas?” Jambrea mumbled, checking her chin for drool as she sat up and squinted into the late afternoon sunshine.
“Nah. You slept right through that. There are a couple bottles of water and some snacks over there if you’re hungry.” Matt smiled at her as he stretched, lifting his arms as far above his head as he could in the confined space. “We’re about a mile down the road from the address Lucas gave us. Pulled over to get ourselves together before approaching. Since we’re not sure what to expect.”
“Pretty certain it won’t be an open-armed welcome.” Clint took her hand in his. “Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind. She’d had bizarre dreams. Of John calling to her from the top of a grass-covered knoll, leaning against a giant oak tree in a place she’d never seen before. Of Matt and Clint, changing their minds and breaking her heart. Or, worse yet, of the partners being hurt on the job. The funeral she’d attended for Lacey’s brother Rob, one of the Men in Blue who’d been murdered in the line of duty, had blurred and melted into a horror reel about a similar service for her guys.
She shuddered.
As if reality wasn’t bad enough. She peered at the woods around them. It was far too easy to envision their hunters hiding behind every tree.
“If you’re not up to it, we’ll take you away. Find somewhere safe to hide until the squad can come check this place out.” Matt didn’t hesitate, but they all knew if things were as they appeared, only Jambrea would be allowed inside John’s family complex.
And maybe not even her.
They were gambling everything on the barest glimmer of a chance. For all they knew, John had hidden more relevant info in her apartment. “You know, we should have the guys go through everything they pick up from the hotel.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” Matt cleared his throat. “We already told them to sift the boxes.”
“Well, I hope Razor has fun detailing the contents of my underwear collection.” Jambrea could already see those jokes coming. She liked silly prints, just like on her scrubs. Cherries, rainbows, stars, whatever cute things she could find to snazz up her practical cotton briefs.
“Oh hell. The kid and panties. You know he’ll suddenly get really good at report writing.” Clint snorted.
“He can say whatever he wants. Because that means you’re here and your underwear is far, far away. Just the way I like it.” Matt leaned in and kissed her.
The easy familiarity of the gesture caught Jambrea off guard. She appreciated his attempt at distraction. A successful one at that. Her lids fluttered closed as he used his thumb to encourage her jaw to open before gently sliding his tongue against hers, soothing her in a way rational discussion never could.
When he pulled back and smiled, Clint was quick to claim his turn. He tapped her shoulder so that she faced him. Not to be outdone, he finessed her mouth with seductive kisses that had her wondering how private the woods around them were.
“Okay. Let’s not get carried away.” Matt seemed a little grumpy that he couldn’t take a second taste. She could relate. After a ten-year drought, she could probably soak in all the lust they rained on her and still take more. Hell, a downpour wouldn’t be enough.
They’d have plenty of time to play later.
She hoped.
“Right.” She ran her fingers through her short hair, using Matt’s rearview mirror to do the best she could with her disheveled appearance. “This is as good as it’s going to get. Let’s see who’s home and if they’ll talk to us.”
“We’re with you,” Matt vowed as he inched onto the tar and gravel road once more. Clint left his hand on her thigh, the heat of his palm reassuring even through her jeans.
“I know.” And she really did have faith they would stick by her side, not only through this fiasco but also, maybe, far longer than that.
No more than two minutes passed before the GPS guided them to an unmarked turnoff. Matt looked to Clint, then shrugged as he slowed to a crawl. The dirt path had well-worn ruts that accommodated his truck. Grass grew between them and the trees closed in, forming a tunnel through the thick forest. On either side of the track, the two largest trunks had Private Property signs stapled to them. The next two said No Trespassing. And finally a third set about fifty feet in read, Keep Out!
Unlike the intelligent people they were, they kept right on going.
Daylight dwindled to mottled patches that littered the ground like golden snowflakes. Sunbeams—so bright she was transfixed by the dust and pollen floating through them—infiltrated the canopy to spear into the greenery below. A bunny hopped alongside the trail and when she watched it dive into the brush, several butterflies fluttered around a clump of flowers at the base of the scrub.
The idyllic scenery would have been captivatingly beautiful if it didn’t give her the heebie-jeebies. There was no way out, only the two dirt tracks leading them deeper into this carefully crafted stronghold. They were essentially trapped, forced to go onward with no spot to turn around. If someone came in behind them they’d be stuck.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem like John’s compound got many visitors.
Inside the cab, Matt flipped off the radio, which droned on with repetitive blather about the murdered candidate from news reporters with no news to report. Worse were the endless sound bites from Bertrand Rice. Something about him made her skin crawl. The more she heard him express his false sympathy for the victim and the righteous revenge he promised to voters who hadn’t supported him a few weeks ago, the worse he creeped her out.
Even still, the silence was unsettling. None of them spoke, all senses attuned to the strange world they’d transported to and any hint of a threat lurking on the other side of their windshield.
“Watch out!” Clint shouted, nearly giving her a heart attack as she scanned around them for psycho-commandos while Matt slammed on the brakes. An enormous buck bounded across the path, then into the foliage on the other side.
If she believed in fairytales, she might have thought it was John’s spirit looking out for his home and his family—if, big if, his sister really did live here. Someone must, because for all the wilderness encroaching on the path, none of it had grown over.
They hadn’t rolled forward again very far before an enormous stone wall topped with razor-wire came into view. A black, wrought iron gate with close-knit swirls and angled spikes at the top—too tight to permit someone to slip through—sat between two imposing pillars integrated into the wall.
More signs. These metal plaques inset into the stonework declared this a visitor-free zone and invited them to get lost.
They didn’t let the lack of a warm welcome deter them.
Matt rolled down the truck window and waved at a surveillance camera mounted on top of the post. When no sign of life ruined the landscape, he withdrew his badge, flipped it open and held it toward the eye in the sky.
The drone of gears engaging sounded before a rock slid aside. Clint tensed next to Jambrea, leaning over to block as much of her as possible from the moving part. Instead of a weapon of some sort, the secret panel revealed a monitor and speakers built in to the masonry.
“Identify yourself.” A woman’s voice demanded their compliance though the screen stayed black.
“You mean you didn’t run my plates as soon as we came down your driveway? Or maybe even on the mountain road back there?” Matt didn’t let the chill in her request impact him. At least he made it seem like it didn’t.
