"I want to get back to Jenna," Isaac said. "I don't want her waking alone. She was deeply shaken by the news footage, and at some point I'm going to have to tell her why we're staying here and why everyone else is splitting up."
He dragged his hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted by the weight of his worry and fear for his angel.
"We'll rustle up something for dinner," Zeke said in a quiet tone. "We'll do our best to cheer her up and give her a good time. Maybe get her mind off all the shit being thrown at her just for a little while."
"Appreciate that," Isaac said sincerely. "We'll be out later when I know Jenna is up to facing a room full of people."
TWENTY-ONE
ISAAC eased into the bedroom, his eyes going to the bed where Jenna lay as he quietly closed the door behind him. Her back was turned to him and she was curled inward, her knees drawn slightly into her body. He wasn't going to wake her yet. She needed the rest and what he needed was simply to be close to her, touching her, holding her in his arms so he could immerse himself in her beauty and light and all the worry, stress and fear could fade away just for a little while.
This was a mission unlike any he'd ever faced before, and not just because he had such a personal stake in it. Always before, no matter how dire the circumstances, even at the lowest moments when one of the wives was in extreme danger and facing seemingly impossible odds, Isaac had approached the plan, the resolution and the rescue, with calm confidence, certain of their success. He'd never doubted for a moment that Ari would be found and that the extremist group who'd abducted her would be taken out in a coordinated, methodical fashion.
When Lizzie had gone missing while on Gracie's protection detail when Zack had abruptly left in what would later be revealed to be his mission to exact vengeance for the horrible wrong done to the woman he'd loved for half his life, Gracie had stepped up and enlisted the aid of Ramie and Ari, and though at the time, Isaac had nearly lost his damn mind when the women had showed up at the safe house where Gracie was being kept, he'd known then, as he'd known with Ari's rescue, that they'd find Lizzie in time to save her.
But now? This was bigger than anything he'd ever dealt with in his time with DSS. The threat of the cult had been removed, much to his relief, but Jaysus had a veritable army at his disposal and allies who owed him more favors than they could possibly repay. That was the way the drug lord operated. He collected favors and when he called them in, those who owed him didn't dare refuse to do whatever he demanded of them. He was ruthless and valued no life save his own. Every single one of his men were expendable. They gave him their absolute loyalty. He gave them absolutely nothing in return except the hope that he wouldn't one day turn on them for no other reason than to amuse himself or prove some point only he understood.
DSS was the best at what they did. Isaac would choose to work with any one of his teammates any day of the week. He trusted them implicitly and he'd give his life for them. But they were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Jaysus had unlimited resources and while Dane was one wealthy, crafty son of a bitch who made sure DSS was better outfitted than any security agency in the entire country, for the first time they were facing someone with more power, influence, ability to intimidate, money and weaponry.
Now when it mattered most, when the success of the most important mission of Isaac's life was necessary to his survival, he couldn't conjure the same absolute confidence he'd felt in all the previous missions he'd taken part in.
He stood at the edge of the bed, staring at the mass of white-blond curls in disarray over the pillows, and felt the stirrings of something that horrified him and made him question everything about the man he thought he was. Panic.
He held up his hands, staring down at them in disbelief as they shook violently. Fear knotted his stomach and his throat until he wanted to throw up to alleviate the wretched anxiety paralyzing him.
A small movement caught his attention, diverting his focus from the savage assault of emotions systematically taking him apart and rendering him useless. He frowned and leaned closer, wondering if he'd imagined the slight tremor of Jenna's shoulders.
Fuck. He wasn't imagining a goddamn thing. He'd thought she was asleep the whole time he was having his epic meltdown when she was curled in a protective manner, faced away from the door, crying-something she was clearly trying to hide.
Instantly he crawled on the bed and curled one arm around her waist, turning her over so she faced him. Her eyes and nose were red and swollen. Her bottom lip was ravaged from chewing on it in agitation. There were dark shadows under her eyes, giving them a hollow, bruised look, and there was such despair in her eyes that the knot in his throat threatened to cut off his air supply entirely.