Forged in Ash (A Red-Hot SEALs Novel)

by Trish McCallan

  “Yeah,” Mac drawled back, cinching in the retort he wanted to make—something along the lines of if you’d do your fucking job in the first place…“We had no intention of apprehending the woman. We were going to leave that to you boys.”

  The sergeant dipped his head, his eyes and face unreadable. But Mac knew the bastard didn’t believe a word that had come out of his mouth.

  Not surprising really, they were trained to recognize bullshit.

  He was just hitting on the wrong steaming pile of shit.

  Mac had to hand it to Pachico’s ringer. Sending the police out on this wild goose chase had been a brilliant move.

  Albeit a fucking annoyance and waste of time.

  “Look,” Mac tried to sound reasonable, which was damn hard to do when his entire body was shedding urgency. They needed to get on the road. He caught himself before glancing at his watch. The bastard questioning him had caught him checking it twice already. One more time and he’d start wondering why Mac was so obsessed with the time. “You’ve checked our weapons. Regardless of what your nine-one-one caller claimed”—nice touch, you motherfucker—“you can tell from the smell that they haven’t been fired.” He paused and gave the sergeant a hard smile. “If the woman was in there, she’s probably long gone by now. How ’bout we call this a bust and move on?”

  “There’s still the matter of permits for this arsenal you and your men are carrying.” He held Mac’s impatient gaze with cool eyes. “And why you had such an arsenal in the first place.”

  Mac lost his smile. “You know damn well we have permits. As for the volume of weapons, sue us; we’re used to being armed. The volume may seem a little much to you boys in blue, but believe me—it’s light for my team.”

  With a frown, the sergeant opened his mouth, but a sudden burst of static, followed by the urgent babble of a rushed voice, distracted him.

  Leaning against the hood of the cruiser to the left, Zane cocked his head and listened, only to suddenly straighten. Tension gripped his lean frame. He leapt toward Mac, his face tight. Grim eyes locked on the sergeant’s suddenly wary face. “What’s a ten eighty-nine and an eleven seventy-one?”

  The sergeant turned and pointed toward the last two cruisers, waving them off. The officers dove inside, cranked their wheels, and took off in a cloud of dust.

  “Damn it.” Zane caught the guy’s elbow and jerked him around, then stepped up almost chest to chest. “What the fuck does that code mean?”

  The sergeant jerked his arm free, glancing between Mac and Zane. “Why?”

  “Because that’s our place,” Rawls said, closing in on them at a run. “And we left friends back there.” His face was hard, his voice urgent. “What happened?”

  Swearing, the sergeant took off his hat and ran a hand over his head, then glanced at the dissipating dust storm.

  “Goddamn it.” Zane was already dialing his cell. After a minute he turned back to Mac, shot a look at Rawls, and grimly shook his head. “His phone’s going to voice mail.”

  “What’s going on?” Mac roared, his voice getting louder by the second.

  A chasm opened up inside him. From the sergeant’s reaction and reluctance to tell them, it had to be bad. Very bad.

  Well, fuck him.

  “Let’s go,” Mac yelled, gesturing toward the van. Not that the order was necessary. Tag, Tram, Russo, and Hollister had abandoned the cruisers they’d been escorted to, and were headed toward the van at a dead run.

  “You won’t be allowed in,” the sergeant said flatly, grabbing Mac’s arm.

  Ignoring him, Mac yanked his arm free and turned toward the minivan.

  The sergeant swore, grabbed his arm again, and swung him around. “The whole block will be cordoned off. It’s standard procedure after a bomb threat and a fire.”

  Bomb? Fire—

  Jesus.

  Mac’s legs went weak. He saw horror twist Zane’s and Rawls’s faces.

  Grabbing his phone, he punched in Cos’s number.

  It went straight to voice mail.

  For a moment Kait simply stood there, her cell phone still clenched in her hand, her mouth open, shock freezing her feet to the ground as Cosky and Wolf tried to beat the life from each other. With fists, knees, boots, or shoulders—anything that could deliver a solid blow.

  Blood misted the air as fists connected with noses and mouths and ears.

  They locked the rage in tight throats and rigid faces, with an occasional breathless grunt as a particularly vicious blow knocked the air from their lungs. But there were other sounds: the dull, hollow thud of a fist hitting home, the gravelly scrape of boots on pavement, the muffled thud of solid muscle hitting the Escalade’s rear door.

  She was amazed at Cosky’s strength and skill. He was holding his own, even though he was down an arm and a leg. Although—Kait watched him pivot and kick, his boot catching Wolf under the chin—the leg didn’t seem to be handicapping him.

  Male aggression soaked the air, so thick and heavy she could almost smell the metallic, musky heat of it. They weren’t going to stop on their own. Not until one or both were seriously injured. She slipped her cell phone into her jeans’ pocket and prepared to interfere.

  As Wolf stumbled back, Kait found her legs and darted between them. If they wouldn’t end this stupidity themselves, she’d end it for them.

  “Stop it, both of you.” She held up her arms, a palm braced against each laboring chest. “I mean it. Stop it, right now.”

  Wolf was the first to step back. His thick, black braid streaked with blood and partially undone, he swiped swollen, scraped knuckles against the trickle of blood sliding down from his split lip.

  For a long moment Cosky’s chest pressed against Kait’s hand. His heart hammered against her palm. A large knot was already forming on his left cheekbone, just below his eye. Which was turning faintly blue and starting to swell.

  Kait wavered on her feet, staring at his face, a sense of déjà vu crashing over her—the injury looked identical to Jillian’s. Which reminded her…what were the odds Jillian had remained in the car?

  She scanned the parking lot and found the other woman headed for the gate leading onto the football field. Dropping her arms, she eased to the left, intending to go after her.

  Both men moved forward as she backed off, their predatory gazes locked on each other.

  Oh, for God’s sake. This was ridiculous.

  “Cosky,” she said dryly. “Jillian’s getting away.”

  At least that news made a dent in his hormone-sopped brain. He turned.

  “You touch her again,” Wolf said in a soft, dangerous voice that sent chills up Kait’s spine, “not even Kait will stop me from killing you.”

  Turning, Wolf loped toward Jillian who broke into wild, uncoordinated flight.

  When Cosky took a step forward, like he was going to follow, Kait grabbed his good elbow to hold him back. They stood side by side, watching as Wolf’s longer strides quickly caught up with the fleeing woman. When he was close enough to touch her, she skidded to a stop. He ducked the fist she swung at his head and caught her around the waist, hoisting her struggling body over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

  He turned around, slowly walking back with Jillian anchored in place by a thick arm around her calves and his hand on her back. Except…the hand on her back seemed to be moving.

  Kait squinted, to get a better look. Sure enough, his free hand was stroking her back. He’d also turned his head, which put his lips right next to her ear, and he seemed to crooning something to her over and over again.

  In fact, his attitude and the way he held her was gentle, even protective. Hardly the grasp of a jailer. Suddenly his warning to Cosky echoed in her mind.

  You touch her again, not even Kait will stop me from killing you.

  Suspicion tickled.

  She turned her attention to Cosky’s eye. It was almost swollen shut now, and turning the same lovely shade of blue that Jillian’s eye sported. T
he same injury to the same eye…

  Even considering the brutality of the fight, the odds of Cosky being hit in the exact same spot as Jillian…well that didn’t seem very likely, did it?

  And now that she had time to think about it, what exactly had caused Wolf’s explosion anyway? Sure he took his big brother duties seriously, but to attack Cosky with such ferocity over something he knew wasn’t actually Cosky’s fault? And to attack him when the odds were so uneven. For God’s sake, Cosky couldn’t even lift his left arm.

  That didn’t sound at all like the man she’d come to know during this past year.

  “You know, your friend has to be behind the bombing,” Cosky said in a tight voice.

  Yeah…Kait frowned. It was pretty obvious what had generated Cosky’s hostility. And lord, she could actually see his point. He didn’t know Wolf’s background, so the timing would look pretty suspicious.

  “He didn’t have anything to do with the bomb,” she said, wishing she could fill him in on how her brother had known about the explosion. But to do that she’d have to explain their relationship and tell him about the gift her father had kept hidden all his life, and the one Aiden was hiding now.

  Although, her father and Aiden’s version of the knowing revolved around numbers and money.

  She frowned, watching Wolf approach. Maybe his warning had nothing to do with the family gift, and everything to do with his military contacts—or whoever he worked for.

  “For God’s sake, Kait.” It sounded like Cosky was forcing the words through his teeth. “It’s pretty obvious you have feelings for the guy, but try to look past them and use your brain. He had to know the bomb was there in order to warn you before it went off.”

  Sighing, Kait simply shook her head. She could almost feel the jump in Cosky’s blood pressure at her gesture. How the hell was she going to get his focus off Wolf?

  At least it should be fairly easy to get Wolf’s off Cosky. She just needed to fill him in on the events of the last twenty-four hours, because he’d obviously jumped to some erroneous conclusions.

  She waited to confront him until after he’d eased Jillian into the passenger seat of the Escalade and cinched the seat belt around her stiff body.

  “I think you may have picked up the wrong impression,” she said as he slammed the door. “Cosky didn’t give Jillian the shiner. I did.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cosky go still.

  Wolf shot Cosky a look thick with contempt. “You hide behind your woman?” Swinging to Kait, his gaze gentled. “Why do you protect him, hookecouhu’ heeyei? He’s not worthy of you.”

  “I’m not protecting him, nor am I his woman.” Kait folded her arms across her chest, stuck out her chin, and glared. “Trust me; Cosky didn’t give her the black eye. I did. And if you’d asked me what happened to her, instead of jumping to ludicrous conclusions—I could have told you that.” Her censorious gaze shifted between the two battered men. “And saved you two from beating each other to a pulp.”

  Some of the aggression drained from Wolf’s face. He frowned and glanced at the window of the passenger seat like he could see Jillian through the tinted glass. “She fears him. It rolls off her in waves.”

  “Well, sure.” Kait waved a hand. “She’s confused and blames him for something he had no part in. Remember the incident at my apartment yesterday morning? The one you called me about? That was her. She tried to shoot him. When that didn’t work, she came after me. She must have heard he’d been visiting me, and assumed we were an item, so she decided to use me to lure him into a trap. That’s how she got the black eye. I hit her.” When he still didn’t look convinced, Kait threw up her hands and turned to Cosky. “Tell him.”

  “I don’t give a damn what he believes,” Cosky growled, the aggression on his end still at a high boil. “I want to know how he knew about the bomb, how he knew you were at the condo, and why the bomb just happened to detonate after his call to you.”

  Yeah, this wasn’t going well at all. Before she had a chance to step back in with some more smoothing over, her phone rang.

  Ignoring the incessant chiming coming from her pocket, Kait fixed a militant gaze on her brother. “Wolf, tell Cosky—”

  “You better answer it,” Cosky interrupted grimly. “It’s probably Zane checking to see if we’re alive.”

  Oh crap. She’d totally forgotten about contacting Cosky’s teammates to let them know they’d survived the blast. His buddies were probably worried sick.

  Her hand dove into her pocket and dragged the phone to her ear. “We’re okay.” She rushed the reassurance out as soon as the ringing stopped.

  “Winchester?”

  She recognized the harsh, gravelly voice immediately. It wasn’t Zane. Without hesitation, she handed the cell to Cosky. “It’s for you.”

  From his terse responses, and the tension gripping his lean frame as he talked to Commander Mackenzie, Cosky wasn’t getting the thank-God-you’re-alright-we-were-so-worried-about-you speech.

  In fact, it sounded like the receiving end of a reprimand.

  Finally Cosky rattled off the directions to the football field, snapped the phone closed, and tossed it to Kait.

  “Doesn’t sound like your commander was happy to hear you survived,” Wolf needled in an amused drawl.

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  Shooting her brother a look of disgust, Kait stepped between the two again. “You aren’t helping.”

  It wouldn’t hurt her brother to play nice. Once Cosky told his teammates what had happened, they’d wonder how Wolf had known about the bomb too, and with six members of ST7 on hand, her brother would be at a distinct disadvantage.

  * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Zane’s van rolled into the parking lot, Cosky couldn’t see out of his left eye. His adrenaline surge had also plummeted, which allowed pain to register, and the combined agony of his dislocated shoulder and pummeled face verged on unbearable. He was used to pain, used to compartmentalizing it, ignoring it, reaching past it to get the job done.

  But Jesus Christ it was hard to ignore the constant knifing agony piercing his shoulder and eye.

  He was getting too old for this shit.

  The van pulled up beside the Escalade. All four doors opened, and everyone jumped out. Zane’s smile of relief vanished as he caught sight of Cosky’s face.

  “Rawls.” Zane raised his voice, his sharp green gaze lingering on Cosky’s eye before dropping to the arm Cosky was cradling against his chest.

  Mac rounded the hood of the van and caught sight of Wolf’s battered face. “Who’s this motherfucker?”

  Wolf braced his ass against the passenger door of the SUV and ignored the question.

  “Simcosky?” Mac barked, swinging back to face Cosky. Black eyes, snapping with temper, locked on Cosky’s face. “What the hell happened to you this time?”

  Cosky spat out a mouthful of blood and scowled in irritation. Mac was acting like he was some accident-prone banana with a monthly pass to the ER.

  “Did you forget the part about the condo going boom?” Cosky’s voice emerged thick with phlegm. He coughed and spit out another mouthful of blood.

  Rawls appeared next to him. “That eye screams fist, not boom.” He turned to Wolf, who waited impassively next to the SUV with his arms braced across his broad chest. “So which of you was the punching bag, and which the boxer?”

  “Who the fuck is he?” Mac asked, directing the question at Cosky this time, rather than Wolf.

  “He’s the asshole who called Kait and warned her to get out of the condo about thirty seconds before it exploded,” Cosky said coldly, the rage rising again.

  Gazes sharpened and swung toward the big bastard leaning so nonchalantly against the Escalade. Russo, Hollister, and Tag broke into a loose pincer formation and blocked the bastard in. Not that he seemed to notice. Or care.

  Cosky scowled. Anyone with an iota of intelligence would
show at least a kernel of worry at being confronted by seven pissed-off members of ST7. This bastard didn’t even flinch.

  Who the hell was he?

  “No shit.” Mac swung back to Wolf and stalked forward, his knees stiff, shoulders even stiffer. “You mind explaining how you knew that bomb was there?”

  Without reacting in the slightest, Wolf watched him approach. “That’s classified.”

  “You misunderstood me, you motherfucker,” Mac snarled, his hands clenching and landing on his hips. “That wasn’t a request. How did you—”

  “I misunderstood nothing,” Wolf said without raising or sharpening his voice. “The information is need to know. And you don’t have the clearance.”

  “I’m Commander—”

  “I know who you are,” Wolf interrupted flatly. “Which changes nothing. You don’t have clearance.”

  Russo cocked his head and frowned. Slowly he stepped forward, his face thoughtful. “I know you.”

  Wolf simply stared back.

  Surprised, Cosky glanced between Russo’s thoughtful face—where recognition was registering—to Wolf’s inscrutable features.

  “Okay, Cos. Let’s check this shoulder out. Looks dislocated, but we need to make sure there isn’t a fracture,” Rawls said.

  Cosky grunted and kept his focus on Russo, as Rawls carefully probed the joint. After a moment, he took Cosky’s left forearm and slowly stretched the arm out until it hung straight down.

  Christ, Cosky gritted his teeth at the urgent, constant burn and waited. He’d dislocated enough joints to know the relocation hurt every bit as bad as the dislocation, which hurt like bloody hell. On the plus side, once the ball popped back into the socket, the relief would be instantaneous.

  At least for his shoulder. His eye was another story.

  “Where do you know him from?” Cosky asked Russo, trying to ignore what Rawls was doing to his arm.

  “In Kunar, this past March,” Russo said slowly. He scanned Wolf carefully, from hair to boots, like he was comparing the man standing in front of them against the man in his memory.