Uncoiling his fingers, Sebastian stroked the pistol holstered at his thigh, the weighted metal both cold and reassuring beneath his touch. “Maybe,” he stated softly. He refused once again to look the director’s way, but he kept a careful eye on the man’s muscled bulk in the window’s reflection. “If that is the case, you will be willing to help me find out who is responsible for this. I want answers, Marx, and I’m not stopping until I find them.”
“I suggest you focus your attention on the task at hand.”
“I’ve been looking for James. I have always done everything you’ve asked of me. I hardly think this is asking for too much in return.”
“You didn’t report for work for two days. Am I supposed to be impressed by this performance?”
Sebastian bristled and the already perilous hold he had on his temper started to slip. It had always been like this with Marx—a constant battle of push and pull. Only this time, the barbs cut deep and burrowed beneath his skin. Some things, once unearthed, could not be covered or contained again. Turning, he met the larger man’s condemning stare.
“That may be true,” he countered in a venomous whisper. “And I am sure Josh filled you in on where I was, but that wasn’t necessary, was it? You knew damn well where I was. You knew what happened to Taylor. You knew she was laying in the hospital, possibly dying, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me. Now?” He gave a coarse laugh. “Now you refuse to help me look into things? What am I supposed to think here?” he asked, casting his arms open.
“This isn’t a fucking democracy and we don’t lend out helping hands. Get your head in the game and stop focusing your efforts elsewhere. I don’t care where you like to bury your dick or how good she is in bed. I’m not wasting company time or resources on your whore. If you’d kept your damn pet under foot where she belongs instead of letting her run around with your security guard, none of this would have happened in the first place. If you want answers, Agent Baas, I suggest you take a long, hard look in the mirror. Your home life is lax, your team is in shambles. Pull them both together or I swear, with God and country as my witness, I will rip them both away.”
That was all it took. The fragile hold he had on himself unraveled and snapped. Hands hooking, he reached for his gun and lunged. One of the guards stationed between them sprung to Marx’s defense and a hard shove sent him staggering backwards. Before he could react, another lowered their weapon and flung their arms around him, trying to wrestle him to the floor in a constrictive restraint. A second quickly joined the fray.
The threat of lockdown and reconditioning bore down on him, adding to his panic and anger.
“Get the fuck off me!” he roared, struggling to break free.
A hard strike with the crown of his head sent one of the guards stumbling. Fighting against the stab of pain and blindness it inflicted, Sebastian threw a fierce elbow, stunning the other. Still dazed by the hazy cloud lingering in front of his eyes, he jerked his pistol free. The cold click of the safety ricocheted through the room as he stumbled back, swinging the barrel between the two men. The first only managed a step in his direction before the Desert Eagle’s blast roared like a cannon and blew the man’s chest open. Trapped in the same lethal sights, the partner froze, hesitation and terror evident in the wide flare of his eyes.
The doors to his office burst open and Sebastian whirled, his gun swinging in his grip. Thrown off balance by a sudden surge from behind, he sprawled belly first across the floor with a frantic guard on top of him. Black swarmed around him. Bruising fingers bit into his hands and arms, struggling to pin them down and pull his gun free. Sebastian relinquished it with little fight. The gesture threw them off enough to lend them pause. Cashing in on their distraction, he wrenched the knife sheathed against his thigh free and whipped his head back. The back of his skull connected with the other man’s face with a sickening crack. Warm liquid cascaded down his neck. Its coppery tang flooded his nostrils, heightening his instincts. It was the fuel he needed.
He rolled with the guard on top of him, fighting in a struggling frenzy of arms and legs. A rifle butt connected with the side of his temple in warning. Darkness threatened, blacking out the world in front of his eyes, but he wrenched up with all his might. The blade met resistance at first but stuttered past the barrier of bone and sank deep into the man’s chest. Sebastian’s own heaved as he pushed against the crushing weight, his face purpling with exertion and anger.
“BAAS!” Josh’s panicked voice joined the fray.