Variations (Base Branch Series Book 9)

by Megan Mitcham

  Tor’s black eyes drifted over his shoulder toward Marina.

  Jesus. With her in the fray, shit got real. Electrocution was cotton candy at the fair compared to the fear and sadness in her eyes.

  “I would start with her delicate little pussy hairs, but I see you’ve already tended it.” A gaze as dim as the previous room rolled back to Oliver. One bushy brow furrowed. “Better for the eating, I suppose.”

  If given half a chance, he’d kill the man. Forget maiming and permanent disfigurement. The pig didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the woman he loved.

  Gut checks of gut checks. Breathing while being spit roasted alive had been easier. Realizing he loved Marina hours before they both died lifted him to the stratosphere and then promptly dropped his ass. The ride, touching her skin, looking into her eyes, and breathing her in was awe-inspiring. Unforgiving impact with the ground was tragic.

  “That’s okay.” Tor tsked. “I’ll start with your girly locks. A man your size shouldn’t have long hair. I prefer a close shave, which is what I’ll give you.”

  The bastard meandered to a table littered with all manner of tools for the trade of torture. He pulled the knife Oliver had taken from the safe house. Oliver expected Tor to go everywhere with the knife except his hair. Mentally, he prepped for the jabs and the slicing of his flesh with slow, shallow breaths.

  Biker boots tread from the table to Oliver’s back.

  Immense force jerked Oliver’s head toward the ceiling. The sore muscles in his neck screamed. Loose teeth rattled in his jaw.

  Tor wound his hand around free strands of Oliver’s hair, pulling up the roots. The tip of the knife pressed against his ear. Crisp metal sang him an ugly song as the man flicked the blade. His lobe flayed wide.

  He breathed in through his nose and exhaled through parted lips. His mind drowned out the physical pain by flashing images of his Marina in the throes of ecstasy. The man wanted his reaction. Oliver wanted whatever the bastard didn’t.

  The next slice burned his head. Tor’s taut hold on his hair gave way, as did part of his scalp.

  “Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye.” The lunatic danced around the room, patting his mouth, and pretending to be a Native American. Oliver's scalp waved and twirled in the air.

  Disrespectful fuck.

  Marina’s head shook back and forth. Tears streamed her cheeks. Her pretty mouth contorted on quiet cries. Gone was the stalwart woman he’d seen when she’d been in pain. His torment seemed to hurt her more. He understood that all too well and feared how well he would comprehend it in the next few hours.

  Tor came back for more. He took part of his forehead and then a segment of his chin. The man cheered each cut, maiming the face Oliver always hid behind a beard. It had been too perfect to fit him, too much of a reminder of his brother.

  Oliver could hold his tongue through the slicing pain, the burn, and the blood that coursed down his back and over his chest. But he knew the moment Tor turned to Marina, no matter how much he wanted to keep it together, he would lose his shit. Just thinking about what Tor would do to her to garner a reaction rotted his bowels.

  Too soon, the man had taken the last of his beard, and Oliver’s worst fears came to pass.

  Tor nodded at his handiwork and turned on his heels to Marina.

  Chains above Oliver’s head clanked and squeaked. He yanked with every ounce of strength he possessed. His legs bucked. He became an animal feral and fighting to survive, sawing and twisting his wrists in the manacles.

  They didn’t give, not one goddamned inch.

  “Look at me, you sick sack of shit.” Oliver roared through lips that didn’t respond so well to his commands. What he lacked in finesse, he more than made up for with volume. If viciousness of voice could kill, Tor and all his cronies would drop dead.

  No such luck. The man draped an arm around Marina’s neck and turned to face him. “What? Don’t want me to hurt your sweetheart?” Tor dragged the knife down her pale lobe. Blood drew to the surface.

  God in heaven. Oliver screamed and snarled, wrestled and brawled. His rage echoed in the desolate room. Helpless. He’d been helpless the day he’d lost Sully, and today, the helplessness tripled. Now, he was fit and fierce. He was trained to handle situations like this and triumph, but he couldn’t see a way to save her.

  Oliver’s head dropped between his shoulders. Defeat weighed a billion pounds. Blood ran in small rivulets down his chest, over his abdomen, and through the bush of hair around his dick. And then his dirty little mind went to work.

  His laugh came low and lightly, startling to his own ears.

  “Dying is funny, is it?” Tor snapped.

  “You missed some.” Oliver continued to chuckle.

  “What was that?” the crazy man growled.

  “You missed some hair.” Oliver straightened and smiled at Tor. “I’ve got pubes, asshole.”

  “I’m not interested in you anymore.” The man lifted the knife to Marina’s forehead.

  “I get it.” Oliver giggled. “My gigantic cock has you scared.”

  Marina’s eyes widened. She mouthed, ‘No.’

  But oh, yes. If he could, he’d take the brunt of it all.

  “Scared?” Tor sneered.

  “Penis envy? Either way, it’s completely normal.” Oliver nodded. “In a locker room, most guys won’t undress near me. But hey, you removed my clothes. Not the other way around.”

  “Keep talking and I’ll cut it off,” Tor warned.

  “And what, mount it on your wall? Besides, I thought you were just taking hair right now.” His mouth stretched into a painful smile. “Guess I’m getting to you, after all. Are you sure you’re not gay? Most men who have a big problem with other men’s packages just haven’t admitted it to themselves. I mean, if you’re not ready to come out yet, your secret’s safe with me.”

  Tor bared his teeth.

  Oliver winked and blew him a kiss.

  “How about I skin you alive?” Tor’s arm dropped from around Marina. He pointed the knife at Oliver.

  “That’d take care of the hair removal aspect.” Oliver shrugged…or tried to.

  Jackpot. Tor’s angry steps brought them face to face.

  “How about a kiss? You wouldn't be my first, but I could be yours.”

  Tor’s thick arm lifted. Oliver focused on the howling wolf inked into the man’s bicep. It was the prettiest thing he could see since the bastard blocked his view of Marina. At least he blocked her view of Tor’s retaliation. Now, he had to keep from crying out.

  The fuck aimed for his cock. Oliver waited until the last possible second and jerked to the side. A good four inches of steel sank into his thigh. Fire radiated from the epicenter, and his vision went on the fritz, flashing the entire, frightening room into view and then out.

  An ear-splitting siren pinged around the room in place of Oliver’s scream. Too bad his and Marina’s ears were already split. Too bad he had a shitty sense of humor and even shittier spacial awareness when in excruciating pain. He saw and heard shit that didn’t compute when he most needed to keep it together.

  On a brilliant blink, the door behind Marina and an array of mechanisms for torture flew open. The man he’d not killed from the safe house burst through the opening along with two others. Along with the men, automatic gunfire filtered into the room. One Brotherhood member hobbled behind the first group. They rushed Tor and shouted Swedish.

  Damn it. He couldn’t make out anything useful.

  Tor yelled back and gestured them toward the door. When they stood their ground, he shoved them toward the door with a barrage of curses. The fourth, from the house, backed to the wall. Tor screeched at him. One steady shake of the man’s head silenced Tor. The guy hefted open a trapdoor and motioned the other men inside.

  Oliver tried to keep track of what was happening, but things slowed to a crawl inside his brain. Blood pumped furiously down his thigh. The room’s dimensions blurred in funhouse fashion.


  The supreme bastard turned toward Oliver, yanked the blade from his leg, and lifted it high. On the downward strike, a leather-clad arm stalled Tor’s.

  “Flytta nu eller dö,” the bastard from the house screamed and dragged Tor backward.

  Leave now or die.

  That was what the guy had said. Or something close to it. Oliver knew die in just about every language. Great. They had a fifty-fifty shot of the steady gunfire coming from friend or foe.

  He looked at Marina’s sob-swollen face and blew her a kiss. It wasn’t an I love you, but it was all he could manage.

  14

  “It was for my sister.”

  Marina hadn’t intended the words to fall out, but what did it matter now. Regardless of the outcome, whether they lived or died after the men with guns had entered the room, Oliver was her hero. He’d placed himself in the aim of a madman to save her. The least she could give him was the truth.

  “The Brödraskapet had my sister, so I betrayed Cara to get Elin back. I hadn’t planned to trade my life for hers, but if given the same options, I’d do it again.”

  Blood soaked her hero—her Oliver—from head to toe. She longed to blot it away, to bandage his wounds and care for him as he’d done for her. Only she could hardly hold her head upright, much less escape from the bonds. The muscles in her legs and arms had seized hours ago. Chains suspended her body, but Oliver’s bravery and strength propped her up.

  “I…” Oliver heaved a breath “…knew you…” His grimace showed through the whittled flesh and liquid red. “…had a reason.”

  A happy sob shook her quaking body. Gunfire slowed but neared them.

  Marina looked at the man who’d given her more care in the last two days than she’d expected in a lifetime. She wished she had a lifetime to show him how much he meant to her.

  One round zipped close to the door. A harsh scream followed and then silence. It crawled into her brain, trying to root out the sliver of happiness she’d found in the madness. She shook her head, sniffled, and met Oliver’s gaze.

  “Thank you.”

  His painful smile washed away the sorrow and fear. What would come would come.

  Three men blacked out in head-to-toe tactical gear infiltrated the room. The shortest and stockiest of them moved straight to Oliver.

  Black gear meant friendlies, right?

  Mr. Unknown lifted his hand toward Oliver.

  “Don’t you dare hurt him,” Marina bellowed with the authority of someone who could do something to stop them.

  The man lifted his face shield and turned.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” Hunter smiled tightly and turned to his friend.

  While one of the soldiers moved back toward the door, the other approached Marina with both hands up and then removed his helmet…her helmet.

  “I’m Riley Strong, Marina.” The women’s black hair peeked out from her helmet, but her bright blue eyes and smile with dimples stole the show. “My sister, Taylor, has told me all about you. Your sister too.” Nope, that did.

  “You’ve spoken to my sister?” Marina asked.

  The woman chuckled as she crouched and went to work on the shackles binding her feet. “I’ve done plenty more than speak to her. Who do you think’s teaching her to fly?”

  “Fly? Actually operate an airplane?” she stumbled.

  “And HELOs.” Riley freed her feet and went to work on her wrists, while Marina tried to compute what she’d learned and figure out whether she liked it.

  “Down there.” Oliver hung onto Hunter’s shoulder and pointed a shaky finger toward the trapdoor. “Could be rigged.”

  “I have to see. Ty, take him to the bird.” Hunter motioned over the other man and handed off Oliver.

  “Not worth it.” Oliver held onto Hunter’s vest.

  “You don’t need to go alone.” Ty hoisted Oliver over his high shoulder. “We’ve got to move. I’ll call Rip from the HELO.”

  “He’s too far way.” Hunter headed toward the cement manhole.

  “It doesn’t need to be unguarded.” Riley spoke of the machine as if it was a helpless toddler.

  “I’m gone.” Hunter heaved open the small cover.

  “We’ve completed our objective. Yours can wait,” Ty barked.

  “Like hell.” Hunter swung his gun around to the side of his chest. “I just need him in my sights for one second. It won’t take long. I’ll probably beat you back.”

  “Go with him.” Oliver shoved at Ty’s shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

  “You couldn’t even stand on your own, Ollie. Don’t be a pansy just ‘cause you have to sit this one out. I’ll kill him good for you.” Hunter jumped into the hole before anyone could mount a rebuttal.

  “No,” Oliver bellowed.

  “Let’s move before you bleed out all over me.” Ty clamped a hand around Oliver’s legs to keep him on his shoulders. In his other, he held an AR at the ready.

  “Let’s get you to Elin.” Riley freed Marina’s hands and caught her weight with ease.

  They scrambled through a short maze of hallways and into the dark of night. Riley’s pack jabbed into her ribs, stealing her breath, but Marina held tight. She wouldn't slow them down. The stream of blood Oliver left in the bunker hurt worse than her broken bone. He needed help soon.

  Marina turned her face to Riley’s ear. “Can you do first aid and an IV? Oliver needs it now.”

  “Me? No way. I fly. But Rip and Ty can do all that gruesome shit.” Riley patted her leg. “You two are in good hands.”

  They hoofed it for several more minutes.

  “There she is,” Riley squealed.

  “Who, Elin?” Marina’s heart jumped.

  “Oh, sorry. No, my baby.” Riley’s hand had smacked the thick metal cockpit of a large black helicopter before they piled inside.

  Marina grabbed the edge of the cot the woman had set her on and searched for Oliver. He lay unconscious on a cot on the far side near the other door. Ty and another man who she assumed was Rip, worked quickly to hang IV bags and unwrap bandages.

  “Here.” Riley wrapped a scratchy brown blanket around Marina.

  “Oh.” How had she forgotten she was naked in front of all of them? It was the first time she didn’t care that she was nude in front of a room full of people. Oliver’s well-being was all that registered.

  A roar ripped through the HELO, and Oliver jackknifed on the cot.

  “It’s just a tourniquet. I need to stop the flow so I can see what we’re dealing with.” Ty showed Oliver the thick nylon strap.

  “Oliver.” Marina smiled and gave him an easy nod. “It’s okay. Let them help.”

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Ty Strong. I think you and your buddy have the blessing and curse of working with one of my little brothers, Cord. Wanna let me work?” The man waggled the strap.

  “Yeah. Where’s Hunter?” Oliver scanned the cockpit. His gaze stopped on her, and she felt the intensity of the blue stare to her toes.

  She offered him another smile. It was all she had to give at the moment.

  He smiled back.

  Burning red and orange rays illuminated his bloody grin and then its fall.

  Heat and force threw Marina off the chair.

  “Get us out of here, Riley.” Marina could tell that Ty was screaming by the thick veins in his neck and the stretch of his mouth. The man followed her into the cockpit.

  Rip leaped across the floor and slid to the door. He manned a massive gun and lit off rounds like it was New Year’s Eve. Each shot sounded like a dull thud.

  Trees burned thirty feet from where she’d sat.

  Oliver?

  He sat on the cot, wrestling the tourniquet around his thigh.

  Marina dragged herself across the floor to his side.

  “Are you okay?” they asked in unison. His was a little more muffled, from either his cut and swollen lips or her ringing ears.

  “Yes. How can I help?” she begged.

/>   “Hold this bar and twist. No matter how hard I scream, keep twisting until I nod.” Oliver clamped his hands around the metal rods of the cot. “Okay.”

  The HELO lifted off the ground in a smooth and swift ascent.

  “Got the bastard,” Rip hollered, and the words came through more clearly. “He had a grenade launcher, shit aim, and no camouflage. Thank the good old Lord.”

  “Keep an eye out.” Ty scooted into the belly with them. “Don’t know why I thought she needed help.”

  Oliver screamed through clamped teeth. Marina’s hands shook, but she continued to turn the small metal bar. The black rubber band wound and wound.

  “Good job. Two more and hook it through there to hold it,” Ty said.

  She looked at Oliver for reassurance. He snarled and nodded.

  “We have to pick up Hunter,” Oliver ordered.

  “Headed that way now. Here.” Ty grabbed Oliver’s hand and pressed in an IV as if he was signing his name.

  “All right. Let’s have a look at your—”

  An explosion lit the sky that made the sun look like a gas log fire. The helicopter tilted, and Marina slammed into the cot. Rip hung from the ceiling and Ty from the opening into the cockpit.

  “Hang on,” Riley yelled from the front.

  Too late.

  Oliver gripped the side of the cot, which was fastened to the floor. He grabbed her arm and kept her from continuing on headfirst into the wall on another violent shift.

  “Are we hit?” Ty demanded.

  “No,” Riley called.

  “Then what the fuck?” he asked.

  “The bunker,” she yelled.

  She righted the bird, and everyone looked out the open door. A ball of fire rose into the sky, lighting the night and illuminating the burning crater gouged into the earth where the bunker used to be.

  “Nooooo!”

  As long as Marina lived, she would hear the echoes of pain in Oliver’s voice.

  15