Jace (River Pack Wolves 2)(55)

Daniel scowled. “Doesn’t look that way to me, Dad.” He turned to Piper. “I went back to the safehouse. This whole thing wasn’t sitting right with me. I don’t always like the things you do, Piper. I think you’re reckless, arrogant, and a danger to others. But…” His gaze flicked to Noah standing next to her. “But the one thing you’ve always cared about in this world was him. When Mrs. River told me you’d found Noah and had convinced the entire pack to go after him… I figured you could probably use a little help.”

Piper’s shoulders dropped, and she huffed out a sigh of relief. Then a scuffle behind her drew her attention. Her father had quickly disarmed Owen, and now they had reversed positions, with the Colonel holding the gun to Owen’s head. In his weakened state, Owen could hardly fight back.

Piper gritted her teeth.

“I’m not going down for this, Daniel,” the Colonel growled. Then he raised his voice. “Tell your men to stand down.”

Daniel gave him a look of disgust, and he swung his weapon to point at the Colonel’s head. “Remember all those times you made me stay on the target range until I finally hit dead-center? Put down the weapon, sir, or you’ll find out exactly how good a shot I am.”

The Colonel’s mouth momentarily fell open, but he didn’t move. “I’m not bluffing, son. And you’ll pay for this, once all of this is said and done.”

“This is your only warning.” Daniel’s steely-eyed gaze convinced Piper well enough—he was actually going to shoot their father if he didn’t stand down.

Piper’s eyebrows hiked up, and it seemed like everyone was holding their breath. The Colonel’s eyes slowly went wide as he seemed to realize the same thing. He released Owen all of a sudden and threw his hands in the air. Two of Daniel’s MPs rushed forward and disarmed her father, shoving him to the ground and cuffing his hands behind his back.

Piper could hardly believe it.

Daniel was putting his own father under arrest.

The prisoners were free.

She’d found Noah.

And even Jace’s elusive Agent Smith had been caught.

Then Jace let out a soft groan. His hold on the gurney slackened, and he slumped to the floor, smacking on the concrete.

Piper gasped and dropped down next to him. “We need a healer!” she shouted, tears reaching up to choke her again.

One of the prisoners rushed forward. It was a woman, and her eyes were sunken and shadowed like Owen’s—she must’ve been imprisoned for a long time.

“Get him up on the gurney,” she quickly instructed the others standing around them. A rush of hands gripped Jace’s body and heaved him up onto the silver table. Noah and Daniel were among them, along with Jace’s brothers, Jaxson and Jared. They stepped back but stayed nearby, watching the woman work. Another prisoner scavenged a needle and thread and medical kit from the nearby cabinets and brought them to her. Jace’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his skin was too pale. He looked like he had passed out, but then he moaned when the woman started digging into his wounds.

An arm slipped around Piper, and she realized she was shaking.

She looked up—it was Noah.

“He’s strong,” her brother said. “And not just his wolf, I have a feeling. I don’t know the man at all, but if he’s won your heart, he has to be something special.”

She was choked up and could hardly force the words out. “He is.”

“Then I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”

Piper prayed her brother was right as she watched the woman pull bullet after bullet from Jace’s quivering body and stitch up the battered flesh left behind.





Jace felt like he’d been attacked by a porcupine with poisoned quills.

At least, that was the vague thought he had as he worked his way up from the depths of sleep. He didn’t know who sewed him up, but he wouldn’t be alive without them. He’d stayed awake for most of the painful extraction of bullets from his body. He lost count after fourteen, and that didn’t even include the darts. Although most of those hadn’t made their way into his system. He was convinced the only reason he’d been able to stay conscious as long as he had was that the darts had anesthetized some of the pain—that and massive doses of adrenaline. But the surgery had been too much, and he went down hard, tumbling into a blissful pain-free blackness.

He remembered praying he’d actually wake up again.

Now that he was rousing out of that deep sleep, he realized he must’ve been transported back to the safehouse. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but the soft blanket over him, the deep pillow under his head, and the wafting smell of dinner told him he’d made it home alive.