The pressure lifted. Range hauled in a breath—water dumped over his face. He gagged. Choked. Writhed against his bindings. To the side, he vomited.
“Tell us why you are here!”
Fire spiraled through his chest. Thud! A sudden impact in his side kicked a scream from his throat. Legs bound, hands tied behind the chair, Range couldn’t fight back. And dying wouldn’t help him or Canyon—although, the latter was less of a concern at the second.
More water.
“My br…ther,” he squeaked out.
A smack to his face startled him.
Range looked up.
A man hunched over him, one arm propped on his leg. “That was your first mistake.”
Oh God…help me.
The man straightened and motioned over his shoulder. “Haul him up.”
Three or four men in khaki uniforms rushed forward and pulled Range’s chair upright. Confusion raked over him as they adjusted it, then walked out of the small tent. The big guy, the one who’d roughed him up, stood at the tent flap, eyes locked on Range.
“You’re not quite what I expected.”
English. Why was he speaking perfect, unaffected English? “I’d like to claim the same, but I don’t think I was expecting you.”
“Oh, that was evident.” The man grabbed a chair, swung it around, and straddled it. “How did you expect to get your brother back? You don’t know standard tactics. You can’t even defend yourself against a simple interrogation.”
“Simple?”
The man flashed a deadly smile. “You have all your body parts intact.”
Range refused to look down. He didn’t know how he would get Canyon back. He just knew he had to try. Or at least, he’d been guilted into believing that.
No…no, he did believe it. Guilt wouldn’t have brought him down here and made him fight it out. He’d have turned back long ago.
“Your brother is one of the strongest warriors I’ve ever met.” The man’s voice held no malice, no anger. Only admiration. “But he’s in one screwed-up situation. He needs help, but I’m not sure you’re the help he needs.”
“I would agree with you.” Quiet resolve hardened in Range’s chest. “Almost.”
The man arched an eyebrow, then straightened, arms out to the side. “Enlighten me.”
“You might have the tactics, the skills, but I have the same blood pumping through my veins. He’s my brother. Same blood.” He tightened his jaw. “I’m not going home without him. I’m not going to face our mother or his children or myself for the rest of my life and say I failed.”
“At the rate you’re going,” the man said with a laugh, “I doubt you’ll see next week, let alone the rest of your life.”
“Perhaps,” Range said, feeling the truth of the words. “But I’ll die trying.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed, Coastie?”
This time Range laughed. “Not if you really know my brother.”
“Huh?”
“I am his complete opposite. Canyon is impressive, doesn’t talk a lot, and hard hitting. I have none of his skills, but I am…dedicated.”
“Deluded is more accurate.” He squinted as he watched Range, then slowly he stood and produced a knife. “Do you realize who has your brother?”
Range shied away from the blade as the man squatted beside him. “No.”
The man sawed through the bindings, freeing Range. “The men he severed power from—the VFA—have him. And every day they have him, they’re shaving a year off his life.” Brown, intense eyes met his. “These men, there is a foreign hand that’s feeding their frenzy, promising all sorts of things that won’t be delivered.”
Range stretched his leg, surprised to find the material cut away from the knee and his wound stitched up. He grunted and hissed as his muscle rebelled.
“Don’t be a baby.”
Range glowered and directed the conversation back to Canyon. “Who has him?”
“Do you know what your brother was doing down here last year?”
Besides stealing Danielle and getting her pregnant? The thoughts pushed Range’s gaze away.
The man chuckled. “I didn’t think so. You are still hung up on his marriage to the senator’s daughter?” Another laugh as he walked to a small cooler and lifted a dripping bottle of water. “Your brother brought down a very powerful man, one forming deadly alliances. Venezuela—some people are against the government here. Americans might not understand our leaders, but it works for us. For most of us. That is, until men like a certain U.S. senator steps in, arranges alliances to create coups…” He took a swig of water, then sighed. “I got too close to the truth, too close to exposing them, so they throw everything at me. Decide they better off me before I can do it to them.”
He guzzled a bottle of water and grinned at Range. “Which brings us to why I am out in this jungle, not in our facilities in the city. And now, the same man who is trying to take me down is also trying to kill the men your brother works with. I stumbled on his dirty work—his involvement with Senator Roark. He didn’t like that. This isn’t some tap dance, Coastie. This is nothing but pure hell.” He finished off the water. “You ready to face that kind of evil?”
“How do you know so much about me and my brother?”
“Because, unlike you, I look past the end of my nose. You came down here, stepped into a big pile of you-know-what.” He seemed to snarl at Range, then grabbed another bottle and held it out to him. “Now, you ready to do what it takes? Or should I ship you home in the first available coffin and save myself some time?”
“You don’t like me.”
The man laughed. “I have no need to like you, Coastie. You’re in my territory. If I didn’t think I could use you, I’d have let the VFA take you last night.” He shook his head. “Gotta hand it to you though. How you made it this far into the den of lions is beyond me. But now—now the real fun begins. Let’s get the job done.”
Awareness skidded into Range that he was on borrowed time. “And what job is that?”
A danger lurked behind the man’s eyes. “Getting your brother out, killing the man who did this, and walking into the sunset.”
Thames River, London
Dodging cars on the wrong side of the road, Griffin and Colton jogged down the street. He glanced up as the streetlight caught the sign. Northumberland. Good, good. They were on track according to the directions a man had given them a block or two back. The Thames should be just ahead.
“What if she doesn’t come?” Why he asked, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. The burning ache in his thighs matched the one in his chest that feared she hadn’t made it out of there. That he’d left her. Just like his mom. Griffin paused to take a breath, clear his mind. This wasn’t the same thing. But what if Kacie was back there? What if Carrick—?
“Don’t go there,” Cowboy huffed. They crossed the street and angled toward Victoria Embankment. “She told us what to do; we did it.”
Griffin knew what his buddy wasn’t saying. She’d found them and given them a way out. What Cowboy was also saying was that she never gave any indication that she would come. And her going back to deal with her brother, with Carrick—that just didn’t sit right with him.
The bigger question loomed and pushed in on him. If she didn’t show—could he leave without her? Yeah, he could, but would he?
They hustled toward the river, his gaze groping for her halolike hair. Surely it’d glow in the evening moonlight, amid the lights that streaked up and down the embankment and pedestrian footbridges. From the wrong side, they searched those gathered around the Eye, watched the occupants of the various trams that rose into the sky. Then the theater.
“I don’t see her.”
“She’s probably lying low,” Colton said.
Keyed up, Griffin eyed the white suspension cords that anchored the bridge to the pylons. Was she down there by the pylons?
“Let me check it out,” he said already in motion. He hustled down the steps, jo
gging up and down the river, around buildings, quietly but quickly searching. Praying God would open his eyes to find her. As he retraced his path, Griffin fought to maintain hope. As he took the steps back up to Colton, who lounged casually watching the river, he groped for a reason. “Maybe she’s running behind. Or caught. What if that perv—“
“We give her time to come. Let’s agree on a time frame.”
Griffin couldn’t pry his gaze from the bodies teeming by the Eye. His gaze stretched across the body of water to the large white Ferris wheel. The largest one in Europe and situated on the south bank of the Thames. “Let’s check it out.” He scurried back up the trio of steps he’d taken down to the river and scaled the steps up to the footbridge, using the rail to propel him faster.
Up top, he and Colton simultaneously slowed, not wanting to draw attention to themselves or their location. Two men running across an open bridge were prime targets for anyone following. In the darkness, with the lights of the city illuminating the river, they had little hope of seeing Kacie from this distance. But his heart pumped and churned all the same. How did a woman get his mind so fouled up?
As they reached the platform to the steps, sirens and lights scraped the night. The noise and chaos pushed them down the steps into the darkened areas beneath the bridge. Amid the crowds and staying in the shadows, they scoured the faces for hers.
“See anything?” Griffin asked.
“Nothing.” Colton nodded to two uniforms strolling their way. “And those bobbies won’t be much help.”
Hands on his hips, Griffin waited for his breath to even out. “We can’t stay down here all night.”
“No, but we’re not in a rush either.” Colton propped himself against the pylon. “Give the cops time to move on. We’re not going anywhere.”
“But what if she does?”
“She’s a spy. She knows about waiting things out.”
Griffin glared at his partner. “You’d better be right.”
Colton folded his arms and frowned at him. “What’s with this girl? I mean, you’ve known her, what? Two weeks? Three at most? What’s she mean to you?”
“Nothing.” The answer tasted like acid, burning a hole through his lying tongue. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “It don’t make sense—what I feel, what I don’t feel. It’s not like with other women, with Venus or Treece.” He swallowed, scared. Both of those women had ditched him at the slightest hint of trouble or complication. Since Treece divorced him, he’d promised to stay true to three things: God, the team, and himself. That’s it. Nobody else. “My life don’t have room for a woman. ‘Specially not one like her.”
His fire buddy remained unmoving.
Shame pushed Griffin’s attention to the ground. “I was angry that I hadn’t seen it, you know? Getting drugged was my own fault. If she’d said something, interfered, her position would’ve been compromised. That could be deadly for her. I get it now, I think. One wrong move and she’s dead.”
“Or we are.” Cowboy readjusted, settling in. “You realize she could have sent us down here to attract the attention of the local authorities. We could be walking right into a trap.”
Clapping a hand on Colton’s shoulder, Griffin let an idea take hold. “Trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Good.” He nodded toward the steps leading up toward the wheel that hung out over the water. “Follow me.”
Griffin stalked toward the stairs, up the path, and around the corner to the right. Toward the throng of bodies gathered at the theater, the sidewalk café, and the Eye. With practiced moves, he probed the faces, those occupying chairs, the corners.
He angled toward an alley that sucked light into oblivion. Walking into that would put him on the disadvantage. What he wouldn’t give for NVGs. But then…something Madyar had said long ago wormed from the recesses of the past. “When you can’t see what God’s hand is doing, trust His heart.” It hadn’t been God who’d spoken the words leading him tonight, but couldn’t God use this girl who tied his mind into a complicated, tangled knot—one surrounding his heart? Griffin couldn’t see what would happen. But…he trusted—trusted!—Kacie wouldn’t lead him into danger on purpose.
The thought pushed him into the dark alley.
“Legend,” Colton hissed in a quiet whisper.
He struggled to let his eyes adjust but no go. Too dark. He strained every other faculty—smelling, hearing, tasting the musky, dank air.
“Legend—“
“Shh.” He took another step, led onward by a stillness farther in. By a strange, quiet noise. It sounded like…sniffling.
He took two powerful steps forward.
Something slammed into him.
CHAPTER 25
London, England
She’d done dumber things in her life, but this topped them all. Kazi threw herself into Griffin once he’d come deep enough into the alley. Fingers coiled in the sides of his shirt, she held on for dear life, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ankle. Though the crowd in the club had cushioned her landing, it hadn’t been enough to prevent an injury. But the frenzy afterward was exactly what she’d counted on to escape—because Carrick’s men opened fire trying to stop her. And that unleashed the panic-fed crowds. She’d hobbled through the chaos and slipped out the front door like everyone else. Now fire blazed through her ligaments and tendons. Swollen like crazy.
Carrick betrayed her. He’d held power over her forever, and she had no delusions that he’d cut her off when he was through, but there’d been an unspoken alliance, a silent bond that said he needed her too much.
But the real pain, the agony that swam circles around her mind, was Roman’s appearance. He truly believed he’d done her a favor. Saved the family. High on himself and his savior persona, Roman could not see the damage he’d inflicted.
Everything was over. Everything. Ties severed. Family dead. Heart…empty.
Clinging to Griffin, Kazi buried her face in his chest, waiting for the memories of Carrick, Andrez to go away. And Roman…Why? Why had he come back? Carrick said he’d killed her family—why leave Roman out? The one person in her family who deserved death, a very painful, lingering, excruciating death, and he was still alive?
She thudded her forehead against Griffin’s pecs.
Arms enfolded her, holding her close, tight. Griffin shuffled to the side with her in his arms.
Shame and guilt forbid her from moving, from looking into his eyes and seeing rejection or pity the way every man who knew anything about her did. She didn’t need that. Didn’t want it. Not from Griffin.
The thought stilled her but sent her mind spiraling. What…what did she want from him?
Nothing. I don’t need anyone.
Wearied by the thought that kept her going for these many years, she let her shoulders slump. She was tired of being alone. Tired of being betrayed.
And if you stay here in his arms that’s what’s going to happen.
Slowly, she lifted her head and took a step back. As a brackish breeze swept the hair from her face, several strands stuck to her cheek. She shuddered. Brushed her hair back and felt the dampness on her face. Tears?
Her eyes locked with Griffin’s.
Cupping her face, he swept away a strand with his thumb. “You did good.”
“I…” Brain blank? Seriously? A single thought suffocated all others. “You knew where I’d be.” She forced a half smile into her face, realizing he’d had the chance to ditch her, to escape—but he didn’t. He waited. The thought thumped against her fears. “I didn’t think there was much under that shiny dome of yours.”
He smirked and nodded, but something had shifted. In him. Between them. In life.
Oh no…
Snap into gear, Kaz. “Right, okay. Good—you made it. Any slower and we would’ve missed our ticket out of here.”
“What do you mean?” Neeley shouldered into the tension.
“We’re booked on the Eurostar to Paris. From
there I have a friend who can get us to Greece quickly. But our train leaves in fifteen.” She bobbed her head toward the theater. “A friend will drop us at the station, but we’re short on time.”
“And passbooks, wouldn’t you say?” Neeley asked.
“Taken care of.” She motioned toward the end of the alley, where a light flickered. “That’s Bobby. Let’s go.”
She quickened her pace and hurried to the car, leaving the near-breach in her self-imposed walls. She climbed into the rear, knowing her face would be easily recognizable if Carrick had his way and notified the authorities. And he always did. In the car, she beat back the flurry of troubles that stormed her life. Carrick would be after her with a vengeance since she bolted the way she had.
But she’d gotten away from him. Again. It didn’t mean much, but if Carrick revealed her identity, she’d never be a spy again. And that possibility always existed. It’d be the quickest route to the grave. That jeopardized the mission with Griffin and his men. It jeopardized her life. Their lives. But it was so much more than that—even though that was enough—she suddenly no longer felt like Kazi Faron. Or Kacie Whitcomb. Or anyone else she’d ever been.
The car shifted under the weight of the men, and she found guilty pleasure in the fact that Griffin had joined her in the rear. His size, his strength, his honor…
“Is this safe?” Neeley asked as the car pulled onto the street, heading for the station.
“Nothing is safe.” Not anymore. Kazi swallowed. A tightness wove around her shoulders, stretched down her spine, and cinched at her waist. It felt as if life were folding in on itself. On her. Anger, hurt, fear swirled through her with a new vengeance, leaving her…
Scared.
As the car bobbed and weaved through traffic, curved roundabouts, and peeled around turns, Kazi braced herself with a hand on the seat. At one turn, her palm slipped—and nudged something. She glanced down, surprised to find Griffin’s hand resting beside hers.
With the streetlamps and blue-green glow of the dashboard, the contrast of their complexions struck her for the first time—and the sheer size of that paw. So large. So strong. The memory of him holding her, safely and securely, crawled through her mind. It’d been stupid of her, really, to fling herself into his arms. And she hadn’t been doing that. Well, not intentionally.
Firethorn (Discarded Heroes) Page 25
