Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1)

by Skaggs, Cindy

  “Great.” If they could build a ladder out of times tables, they’d be in business. Lauren leaned her head against the window frame. Tears and fear threatened to shut her down. She didn’t want to be responsible for getting out, but adding in the pressure of trying to get the kid out weighed her down. He was so young and she was so— Lauren refused to cave to negativity. She was alive, she wasn’t tied up, and she was familiar with the house. She crossed the room to the closet. Maybe there was something there they could use to climb down or get a message to someone. The door resisted as if blocked by something inside. Her heart sped up. Maybe there was something inside after all. She yanked the knob and stumbled back when it finally gave.

  “Smythe.” She gagged the name. On the beige carpet on the floor of her closet was Smythe. Bound and gagged. Wrapped in clear plastic, as dead as her dreams of the perfect house. Lauren dropped to her knees. She couldn’t stop breakfast from lurching out. She threw up less than a foot from Smythe’s plastic-wrapped body. His open eyes witnessed the whole thing. When she was finished, she pushed the door closed.

  “Is that man going to help us?” Caleb asked.

  “No. He’s...uh...not a good climber either.”

  Lauren crab-walked across the room. She needed air. She set her head out the window and sucked in the oxygen. If they put her in with Smythe’s body, they didn’t plan for her to live long. As she peered out, she saw a man pacing in a nearby patch of grass in his tiny yard, talking on a phone. “Hey.” She tried to mock-whisper down, but the man kept pacing, obviously not hearing her. She was afraid to raise her voice or Earl would return, and now that she’d seen Smythe’s body, she was an even greater liability.

  She looked around for something to throw at the pacing man. She didn’t have anything in her pockets, Earl had made sure of it. That left Smythe, and no way would she open the plastic and dig through a dead man’s pockets. She glanced at Caleb. He was pulling a string at the bottom of his shirt. “Caleb, do you have anything in your pockets?”

  “I had five dollars and fifty-seven cents in my wallet, but that man took it. There should be consequences for stealing.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I know just the man to deliver those consequences.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. No doubt Ryder would seek retribution, but would he make it before they killed her and Caleb? “You’ve been here longer than me. Did you find anything we can use to get someone’s attention, like a rock or something?”

  Caleb stood, his lean limbs awkward, bending and unbending like rusty hinges. “We could make a paper airplane out of the plastic. Or a flag.”

  Lauren’s heart jumped at the suggestion. “Really good idea, Caleb.” She grabbed the plastic in both hands and strode purposefully to the window. The makeshift flag unfurled out the window, snapping in the wind like a kite. The pacing man didn’t so much as look their way. Using both arms, she yanked the flag inward causing a loud smack as it struck the siding, but the man just put a hand over one ear while pressing the Bluetooth deeper on the other side.

  “Maybe move it more,” Caleb suggested behind her.

  Right. She was trying to move it. She waved the heavy black plastic up and down like she was shaking sand out of a carpet, her arms aching, pulling against the ever-present wind. The wind caught the tail and pulled back, yanking Lauren’s upper body outside. She squealed. Off balance, the sixteen feet to the ground threatening, she windmilled her arms to regain her balance. The plastic fluttered free.

  “No.” She whispered the word and her voice cracked with stress.

  “That has some distance.” Indeed, the plastic flew thirty or forty feet before landing on the fence between two tiny yards.

  The pacing man never broke stride, never looked up, never saw a thing. “Hey,” Lauren yelled at him. “Are you blind?”

  “Shhh.” Caleb tugged her arm as if to pull her into the room, but panic took hold. The pacing man felt like their last chance. She’d already blown it, but she really didn’t want to end up like Smythe. She started yelling and pounding on the siding to draw the man’s attention upwards. Instead of looking up, the man slid the door to his townhouse open and walked inside.

  Lauren sagged against the window frame. Last-chance man had been a long shot. She’d gambled and lost. The sound of the key in the lock triggered another rush of adrenaline. Earl pushed into the room, but he didn’t have his gun out. Lauren tried to take a deep breath but it caught on a hiccup and sounded more like a sob than a rallying cry.

  Caleb back stepped into the corner and started rocking on his feet. Earl made a tsk sound. “I thought you were smarter than that.” He came at her straight on and jabbed. Lauren dove to the right to avoid the fist. Earl’s momentum had him stumbling several steps forward. Lauren barreled into him and he smacked against the wall.

  “Oomph.” The wind knocked out of him, he still didn’t slow. He jabbed back with an elbow, hitting her in the gut and knocking her back. Pain washed through her in waves of angry red and black causing her head to swim. She doubled over, her hands instinctively going to her gut. Earl was on her with a fast punch to the right cheekbone. Spots, white spots shimmered through her wavering vision. Her breath whooshed in and out.

  Get it together. Remember, you broke his nose once.

  While her spine wanted to stiffen, she wasn’t used to getting hit with fists, with fear. Before she could catch her breath, Earl slammed her against the wall with a forearm to her throat. “You’re not using the head-butt on me again, bitch.”

  She gurgled unintelligible words around the squeezing on her throat. Her fingers clawed his arm, but nothing broke his grip, nothing eased the hatred in his eyes. The spots that had been swimming in her eyes started growing, blurring her vision as her body fought for oxygen. This was not how she was going out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ryder fast-roped from the roof to the second story window, fighting friction with his heavy gloves and thick boots. They spent too long casing the outside of the townhouse. Now, the echo of Lauren’s scream eradicated all sanity. He was going in hot, and fury led to mistakes. The pounding in his elusive heart might have been panic in another man. His pulse thundered. He wanted to let gravity carry him faster, but he’d arrive on scene damaged. He needed to land in top fighting form, because whoever put the fear in her scream wasn’t making it out of the house.

  At the window, Ryder hit full stop and swung inside. Rose was three meters behind him. The small guest bedroom exuded terror, a remnant of Lauren’s aborted shriek. A man in a suit had Lauren jacked up against the wall with her feet dangling. His elbow closed her airflow. The part of Ryder he struggled to keep in a cage broke free at the sight of his wife. Her face was red and battered, tears streamed down her cheeks while her fingers clawed at an unforgiving arm. His fingers encased in gloves went slick while sweat dripped into his eyes, adding to the angry haze. A roar burst from Ryder’s soul. The sound seemed to revive Lauren. Her bulging eyes opened and she rammed her knee into the target’s groin. Earl’s grip went slack for a moment before he hauled back to ram a fist into her face.

  Ryder lunged. A flying tackle had the fucker on the ground and under Ryder’s clenched fists. He didn’t see a person anymore. He saw a dead man. No one touched Lauren. Earl was about to discover why.

  A primal urgency wanted to pummel, to nail him fast and furious, but another part of him—the dominant strain he’d released—wanted the target to know judgment day was at hand. The heat that had risen with his anger was cooled by ice running through Ryder’s veins. His movements slowed, not sluggish but controlled rage. Ryder slammed with the heel of his hand, landing at the other man’s sternum. Bone and cartilage gave under the impact. A satisfying snap rent the air.

  Earl’s eyes watered, widened in pain and shock. Brutal joy swamped Ryder’s veins. A distant part of him heard Lauren call his name; her voice whiskey rough from the chokehold. The inherent pain in the sound fed the need to destroy. Slowly. Finishing the man quickly was too easy a
death. Ryder stood, hauling the man to his feet.

  He recognized Earl from the roadside fight the night of Lauren’s accident. This was the man who had stabbed him. The man who had trussed up Lauren and tossed her in a trunk. And she’d broken his nose. The bruises on his face still showed. Ryder grinned. His wife was a fighter, not like this asshole.

  Earl was sucking wind, breathless and bent like an old man. Ryder yanked off the gloves and nailed him with a right cross that snapped another bone. Skin split, bled, the pain feeding the beast inside who needed to destroy the man who had come for his wife. Twice.

  “Please.” The man held out his hands. He took a step back until he slumped against the wall. “Please.”

  A soft hand touched Ryder’s back, sending a shiver up his spine. Lauren. He’d know her touch anywhere. “Did you have mercy on my wife? Did you stop when you choked her?” The image sent another wave of rage through his blood. He wasn’t nearly finished with this freak.

  “I didn’t know.” Snot and blood blubbered from his nose. “I’m sorry.”

  Behind him, Lauren snorted in disbelief. Simply hearing her—alive—tamed the wildness. But not fully. He narrowed his eyes. “I told you what would happen if I saw you near my wife again.”

  “I didn’t think.” He spit out blood and a tooth. “Message received. I’m out.”

  “Too late.” Ryder punched, slow and controlled. Waited for the other guy to straighten. Punched again. Gut shot that sent Earl to his knees. The beast roared and kicked the man over and onto his back.

  “Ryder.” Lauren’s voice penetrated the haze. “Stop.”

  “No.” He kicked. The man squealed like a girl, and then he stopped squealing. He lay on the ground, bruised, battered, and bloody, unconscious but not dead. The beast demanded a bloody fucking sacrifice.

  Lauren’s hand on his arm whispered to the man behind the beast. “Ryder, baby, stop. He can’t fight back. It’s over.”

  He hungered for the kill, for ultimate retribution. “He’s still breathing.”

  “So am I, and you’re scaring me.”

  Ryder turned to her, his vision spotty.

  Her face was pale and her eyes rimmed with red. “The look in your eyes is the same as when you came back from your last deployment. This isn’t who you are.”

  “Yes. It is.” This was who he had become. What the Army had trained him to be, what the drugs had attempted to create, what the war had wrought, came alive at the threat to his wife. Ryder looked at her through bloodshot eyes and saw his other half. His anchor. She was too damn good for him. “Turn away.”

  “No.” She shook her head to deny the last request of a drowning man. Her throat was swollen and red. Bruises threatened like a storm under her skin. She needed an ice pack, but that thought warred with the need to finish the man who had put the bruises there.

  “Baby, please.” She couldn’t see this.

  Her midnight blue eyes watered. “Do what you need to do, but I’m not leaving.”

  “You have to.” Desperation roughened his words.

  The cut on her lip dripped blood as she attempted a sad smile. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

  Not a single part of this was okay. All that was good in the world lived in Lauren. She shouldn’t see the animal he had become, shouldn’t have to witness what they had made him, through drugs and training and inhumanity. A cold, callous, fearless killer. “Baby, you need to leave.”

  “Not this time.” She rubbed a hand over his broken knuckles. “You can’t lock me in a room to protect me.” Her soft touch whispered up his jaw to the tension sitting there. “If this is who you are, I won’t turn my back. I won’t leave the room. You can’t hide.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “You can’t make me stop loving you.”

  The brush of her hand healed something deep, so he leaned into her palm. Seeking. Needing. “I want to give you what you ask, but—”

  “Earl won’t be coming after anyone for a long time.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Smythe and the fighter and the lawyer were still out there. “This isn’t over, and I won’t let them hurt you. Don’t ask me to.” He reached for the hand at his cheek and held it between his large ugly mitts. “I may have to kill to protect you.”

  “So be it.” She levered up on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “As long as you stay with me.”

  A chill washed over him, drowning the rage and caging the beast. The thing he feared had happened. She’d seen him at his worst, as a primal beast, enraged and unstoppable. Yet she still wanted him. Still loved him. He didn’t deserve her, but he might not remain human without her. He’d been so out of control, he’d lost situational awareness. It was a damn good thing their enemy was clueless. “Where’s Rose?”

  “He went straight for the men climbing the stairs like rats. Took out two before the rest abandoned the nest. He’s kind of a badass.”

  “He is?” Ryder found he didn’t like her noticing his teammate in that way.

  Lauren caressed his cheek. “There’s nothing kind of or a little bit about you, Ryder. You’re the biggest badass I’ve ever known.”

  His hands shook as he rubbed a thumb over her split lip. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “I’m fine now. Baby,” she mimicked his tone before diving into his chest, tucking her head under his chin, and wrapping her arms as far around as they’d go. The move all but demanded he put his arms around her. She wasn’t afraid of the beast, not even a little. “When we get somewhere safe, I want to know everything.”

  “Same goes. I need to know what happened when you walked into the bank.”

  “Fine.” She mumbled the word against his chest. “But I’m not talking about this situation. I want to know about the Army. About the experiments.”

  Ryder closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. Alive and exactly where she belonged. Strong enough to handle the truth, the whole truth. “Okay, but first maybe we should help Rose.”

  She tilted her head and smiled. “I think he has it handled.” She stepped free and reached back for a boy that Ryder hadn’t noticed. “This is Caleb. We should get him back to his mom.”

  “The bank lady?”

  “You know my mom?” The boy’s moves were jerky and disjointed as he stepped closer.

  “Sure. Met her this morning. She’s anxious to see you.”

  The kid’s eyes averted to the man bleeding on the carpet before turning his back on Ryder to address Lauren. “Is this the consequence of stealing?”

  “This is the consequence of stealing and kidnapping and—” She grabbed the boy’s hand. “That’s probably enough information. Let’s get you to your mother.”

  They stepped over two men to get to Rose. The rest of the house was abandoned. Rose glanced up as they descended the stairs. “You look like shit.”

  “You better not be talking to me,” Lauren said, her voice returning to normal.

  “No. I’m talking to the dumbass behind you.”

  Ryder took the ribbing he deserved. The way he’d lost control was unacceptable. In a war situation, he’d endangered his team, even if it was a two-man team right now. The lower level was washed in dark so that Ryder had to blink for his eyes to adjust. The room he’d partially painted was crowded with bottles and canisters. The kitchen looked like a lab, with vials and instruments setup on the counter next to the sink. It didn’t look like anything was active, but what the hell did he know? This looked like something out of a crime scene photo.

  Lauren pressed a hand to the jagged paint line between the living room and kitchen. Her shoulders shuddered. “Not much left.”

  “Of what?”

  “Us.” She leaned heavily into his side. “Of what we were trying to build.”

  The words sliced open his aching chest. “This is a building. Four walls and a roof.” He placed a hand over her heart. “This is home.”

  “You always know what to say.” She placed her hand over his and looked up at him with solemn promise.


  He wanted to answer her promise with a vow of his own, but too much was still uncertain. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You can leave a building, but not me. We’re not finished yet.”

  Ryder settled an arm over her shoulder, incapable of words. The burden of what might have happened weighed heavy on his soul. Lauren still wasn’t safe. There were too many variables he couldn’t control. He couldn’t leave her alone again.

  Caleb walked at Lauren’s side. He’d released her hand and seemed content to match her pace. In the front walk, Lauren blocked the harsh sun with a hand, squinting against the light.

  “Headache?”

  She nodded. “Everything hurts.”

  Ryder rubbed a hand up her back and across her shoulders. “We’ll get an icepack and some Motrin as soon as we get away from here.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Callahan jogged up from the parking lot. “Hey, I thought you guys were already moved out.”

  “Forgot something. Had to go back for it,” Ryder answered.

  The neighbor’s gaze took in their appearance. “What happened to you two?”

  Ryder shook his head. “Training accident.”

  “Right.” Callahan elongated the word as if he had a hard time believing the bullshit answer. “You guys still selling?”

  “Yes.” Lauren didn’t pause, then looked up at Ryder for emphasis. “No way could I live there again.”

  Even if they got the bank deal settled, they needed a new start. “I agree.”

  Callahan shook Ryder’s hand, clamping down hard on the bruised knuckles. “Good luck, man.”

  They parted ways, heading for Rose’s truck. “How are we going to get Caleb home?” Lauren asked. “The truck seats three.”

  “One of us can sit in the bed of the truck.”

  “No.” Lauren shook her head emphatically. “After everything else that’s happened, it’s too risky.”

  Ryder almost asked what else could go wrong, but stopped short. He wasn’t tempting fate.

  Rose shook a set of keys in the air. “I grabbed the keys to the hotrod. I should definitely drive it.”