"Thanks to I-Man." Rhett nodded toward Shay. "Sometimes it takes just a nibble of intel. You gave us the right bite, man."
El bounced forward again, face full of excitement. "After we determined the most likely route those assholes would take to Henderson Executive, factoring in traffic on highway fifteen and their need for ‘laying low' as much as possible, Rhett got onto the city's mesh network and searched for cameras that had any glitches in their feeds over the last eight hours."
Rhett set his laptop on the ledge between the living room and the entry foyer. A digital map of the city filled the screen, emblazoned with a glowing green path between the Paradise area restaurant where Shay and Zoe had eaten and the tarmac of the Henderson Executive Airport. "They might as well have dribbled paint behind them," he remarked.
Garrett lived up to his call-sign by eyeing the monitor like a wary hawk. "Or maybe they left the digital breadcrumbs on purpose, to throw us off?"
"Excellent question." El nodded. "One we also asked,"-she paused as Rhett clicked his tracking ball, bringing up a new image-"until we found this."
The buoyancy drained from her tone. The next second, everyone understood why. Brynn's gasp was smothered by the guys' f bombs as a security camera feed appeared, time clock in the corner, along with the words Tarmac Two. The footage wasn't so grainy to prevent everyone from recognizing an unconscious Zoe, her baby bump evident at the front of her tiny form, being carefully dragged from the back of the van by a pair of muscle-heads. The second they transferred her onto a rolling gurney, they stepped back and let a third man take over. Clad in dark dress pants and a crisp white dress shirt, he moved swiftly over Zoe, taking her vitals-and possessively clutching her round stomach.
Chapter Two
‡
Shay lunged at the laptop. Garrett and Rebel held him back. Other than his agonized grunts, nobody else said a thing, watching like they were subjected to a silent horror show. Though Zoe and the mystery man were fully clothed, it was torture to watch that stranger grope Zoe as if the unborn child were his.
Brynn's teeth grated like nails on a chalkboard. If the footage made her feel like this, no wonder Shay had turned into a powder keg.
The bearded man stepped back and adjusted his glasses, nodding in satisfaction. The new angle allowed a better view of his features. He had close-cropped dark hair, a well-manicured beard, and gangly limbs, which added to the creepy vibe he gave off with every movement. He reminded Brynn of some rare spider, skinny but lethal.
At least Doc Man's distance from Zoe served to calm Shay by a fraction-until the man motioned to one of the henchmen, curling fingers in like a tarantula. The guard stepped forward and locked Zoe to the gurney with thick leather straps-
Officially morphing Shay from man to beast.
"Cocksucker!" His eyes bulged, his neck strained, and his body lurched, a bull at full attack. He seized the laptop and swung it over his head, preparing to hurl it across the room, but Rebel leapt and swept the device away in just enough time. His reward was an elbow in the chest, Shay's blow hurling him against the wall with a sickening crash. Brynn choked, barely controlling the urge to race to him, but Zeke and Kell had entered the fray so she didn't dare. The pair grunted, fighting to restrain Shay from his own grief and fury.
"Cocksucker!" he bellowed again. "You perverted, pathetic, depraved dick of a cocksucker!" He snarled, kicked, writhed, and even bit Zeke's arm. Brynn winced though Z barely flinched. Most importantly, he didn't relent his grip any more than Garrett or Kellan-a good thing, since Shay's wrath climbed higher by the second. "I should have killed you when I had the chance. I should have listened to my gut when it told me to drive that dagger through your neck, Royce. I should have listened. I should have listened!"
Rebel handed off the laptop to Rhett, the action as poetic as a pair of relay runners passing a baton, without wavering his stare from Shay. "Wait. You know that guy, Bommer?"
The question bordered on redundant. The four-way wrestling match clearly wasn't fun for anyone, especially Shay-though processing Rebel's words was the douse of logic he needed to tether at least part of the beast. Shay went limp before surrendering to a long groan.
"Nyles Royce." He seethed both syllables. "He's one of Adler's ‘team' though I'm pretty sure he snatched the Doc Wonder wear off of Costume-Crazy dot com. If that monster is a real doctor, I'm the Shah of Persia." He stopped, forcing down hard breaths. "The bastard knows his knives, though-and just how to use them."
With eyes closed, he ran a hand up under his shirt, lifting the fabric as he went. There was no way to miss the ugly row of scars beneath his trembling fingers. One, two, three … Brynn shut her own eyes after he reached six, remembering the night Zoe had tearfully told El and her about the cuts … which marred every part of his body.
"One day, he got careless. Left my arm unlocked while turning to clean off one of his blades-so I took the biggest one I could find on the tray." He let out a breath in stumbling spurts. "I yanked the bastard down. Had his face against my stomach. I could have slit his filthy throat, making him eat my balls as I did it. But I didn't. Goddamn it, I didn't!"
Another silence wrapped around the room.
"Fuck," Zeke finally growled.
"One way of putting it." Kellan wrapped a hand around Shay's shoulder. "It's all behind you now, brother."
Shay whipped his head around. If glares could turn into real fire, Kell would've been charcoal. "But it's not behind her." His raw rasp ripped the air. "It's not behind her. And Royce … likes to play with his food. A lot. He-gets off on it." He moaned and whirled back as if to add to the crater collection in the wall. Instead he braced both fists to it, dropping his head between his shoulders. "His ‘sessions' with me … many times, we weren't alone. He'd call in a woman. Sibelle. Long red hair. He demanded she arrive with her hair down, wearing nothing else. He'd cut out his ‘sample' from me then fuck her. Wouldn't give me the painkiller until he was done with her. Sometimes not even then. He'd want another ‘sample'. Would watch me scream while he stuck his dick into her again. Then again. Over and over … "
"Shit." El sobbed it before rushing toward Shay but was stopped by Zeke, who shook his dark-haired head. Wisely, El conceded. When a soldier sensed a comrade needed their space, they were usually right.
"What's he going to do to her?" Shay grated. "What's that worm going to do to my tiny dancer and our child?" He withdrew his hand, only to let his bruised knuckles slide down the wall. "Let it be me again." His prayer bled out his soul for them even more. "Please. Please. Let it be me again. I won't even scream this time. I'll let them slice and dice all they want … for the rest of my fucking life … whatever they want … as long as it's not my beautiful girl … and my perfect, innocent baby … "
Rhett, now the closest one to him, pulled in a long breath. Without questioning how, Brynn discerned his intent as if it were her own, and stepped over to take the laptop before he hauled Shay into a tight hug. Brynn clutched the laptop to her chest, as if it could prevent a single tear from sliding down her cheeks. Still, she didn't move. Stood and lent Rhett the support he needed to pull his friend through the bleak, hard moment.
He smiled at her in thanks.
She smiled back.
Oh, hell.
Long story short: he stole her breath.
Forget about the brilliance of his smile, the fortitude of his jaw, and the twinkle in his dark eyes. Right now, his resplendence had everything to do with the energy he radiated. Tenderness and concern flowed from him, securing Shay in the invisible bond that only another man of valor could comprehend. It didn't matter that they served on different teams across the world from each other. Evil was evil-and right now, it only mattered that evil had gotten past the gates then dragged two innocents into its shadows. Wrong move, if Rhett Lange or any of the guys in this room had anything to say about it.
And she wondered why men like this turned her self-restraint to mush? Maybe it had something to do with this shit, right here? Their shared character, honor, purpose. Their understanding of the price their country asked of them, before putting on their uniform anyway. The men who slogged through the hard stuff, who forged the difficult decisions then supported their brothers-in-arms when the boots were on the other feet, without conditions, definitions, or limits.