Chapter Fourteen

C arson stood in the dimly lit room. The rough cement was cold under his bare feet. Chains clinked as he moved, his wrists bound to the rough-hewn wall behind him.

The air was thick with humidity, along with the dampness of stone and something metallic—blood.

His body ached from the countless days of enduring barbaric treatment. Or maybe it was weeks. He'd lost count.

He peered into the darkness, just waiting for what he knew came next. It was always the same. They beat him until he lost consciousness, then threw him in this room. The prisoners in the cells around him called it the dungeon, and they weren't wrong. Not that they were ever allowed to speak to each other, but there were more ways to communicate than to talk out loud.

He heard the tapping on the metal bars somewhere nearby. Morse code was something he'd learned as a kid, a way to communicate with his brothers after lights out. Their old man never did catch on to what they were doing, or if he did, he didn't say so.

H-E-S-C-O-M-I-N-G

He's coming.

Carson already knew the leader of the prison was on his way to torture him again. But the alert made him lift his head and glare straight into the soulless, purely evil eyes of his enemy.

He tensed, anticipating the blow to come. What would it be this time? Would he strike him in the face, bruising it further? Go for the stomach? His kidneys were so bruised that he pissed blood more often than not.

After that, he lost track of what happened. He knew only the burning pain on his broken body and the jolts of electric shocks used to rip the answers that the enemy wanted so badly out of him.

He never answered a single question. He took the beatings, the electric shocks. The pain.

For the love of his country. For his family who deserved to live in a free world.

He jerked so hard that he heard his spine crack—into place or out of it, he couldn't be sure. He grabbed at his head, hands shaking, his breath rough and searing through his lungs.

He gulped the air. Cool instead of stifling.

Through his splayed fingers, he peered in front of him. Not the eyes of the enemy but the back of an airplane seat.

He was on his private jet.

And Layne was grabbing at his hands, trying to pull them away from his face.

He dropped them, and she cradled his face in her soft, cool hands and drew him down against her breasts. He curled against her, fighting his way back to reality from that room of his nightmares and those people who had tried to take his soul.

"Carson. Carson. It's okay. You were dreaming. It's all right. I'm here."

He didn't mean to be so weak and clutch her like a drowning man, but he couldn't help himself. Sometimes the dreams got the better of him.

At least for a few minutes until he mastered himself.

He could still hear the tapping of Morse code on iron bars. Instead, he focused on Layne's voice and the hum of the jet engines.

He wasn't Ghost anymore. That man was gone—every day of his life he worked to bury Ghost Malone. He'd keep the skills that earned him the nickname and fade into the background when needed. But now he just wanted to be Carson.

Finally, his heart rate returned to a normal rhythm and the dream fog cleared from his mind.

He loosened his hold on Layne and lifted his head. "I'm sorry."

She blinked. "Sorry for what? For being a flesh-and-blood man and not a machine?"

"You don't need to see this."

Before he could twist away, she caught his cheek and held his stare steady on hers. "But I did. Do I have to tell you that I'm here for this? For whatever reason you ever need me? Whether it means bandaging your wounds or getting you through the internal ones—I'm here."

He stared deep into her eyes and saw the truth of her words.

"Look, Carson. I trust you with my life." She drew his palm over her chest. "And my heart. You can trust me too."

God, he never expected to ever have a person in his life who would be there for any of his darkness, let alone shed rays of warm sunlight over the shadows.

He kissed her tenderly, using his body to say the things he couldn't express verbally. After a few minutes of kissing and touching her, he felt more like himself. She got up and fetched them each a bottle of water from the rear of the plane where the refrigerator was located.

They sipped their water and talked about nothing and everything. Since Layne had slept on the flight to Italy, she was wide awake on the return. It was good to be with her. More than good.

Perfect.

His phone buzzed again. As soon as he saw the five other people in the group were his siblings, he groaned. He didn't want her to read anything over his shoulder—and spot something that might fill her with fear.

"What is it?" Layne looked away from her own phone that she was scrolling on, searching websites filled with photos of antiques that just looked like dusty junk to his untrained eye.

"My brother added all of us to a group chat."

"Oh god. Group chats are terrible. I bet sibling ones are even worse." Her eyes danced with amusement.

He nodded and began skimming through the first few messages from Oaks, spelling out what Denver told him—the same thing he'd called Carson to warn him of.

Then Colt jumped in, sharing what he knew about the situation in Italy and questioning where Carson and Layne were.

After that, Willow had a small freakout laced with fear and made Carson's brotherly protector leap to soothe her.

Oaks: Carson—give us your coordinates.

Colt: He's probably in the air on his way back to the States.

Willow: Should I tell Faye that Layne is missing?

Good god. The last thing the older housekeeper of the London family needed to hear was that Layne was missing. She was right here with him.

The world was damn confusing at the moment, but the one thing he knew without a doubt was that he wanted to take Layne again.

He wanted to sink inside her until the pilots had stories to tell their fellow pilot buddies about all the noise they caused.

Taking control of the group chat, he texted before all hell broke loose back home.

We're safe. On our way back.

Willow replied instantly. Thank god. I've been so worried!

That was exactly like his baby sister. She swung between bossing them all around and telling them off to falling into a sweet, mother-hen mode. More than once, Carson experienced the whiplash of her moods.

We didn't have the easiest time of it. We're coming straight to the ranch. Make sure security is in place.

Oaks responded. I'll pick you up.

The chat continued for a while between his brothers and sister. Until somebody mentioned Denver again.

Carson knew from his own time as a SEAL that there was little use in worrying. Every man usually got out fine. Until they heard otherwise, Denver was okay.

Carson's phone lost signal again.

When he turned his head, Layne was staring at him. Their gazes connected, and hers softened into warm, hazel puddles. The love she professed to have for him was clear in her eyes. Her face was an open book. He'd know her true feelings even if she'd never uttered the words.

He set his phone aside.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"My family is just concerned. They heard about the matter in Italy."

She shook her head. "I'm still in shock from that. It all happened so quick. The explosion and then that car slamming into us." Her eyes shot to his bandaged face.

It seemed like they'd been in this jet forever—two long flights was one too many. A shame, because he really had been looking forward to relaxing with her in an exotic locale.

And worshipping her body there.

They chatted and napped on and off, always touching. When some heavy turbulence jostled him awake, he straightened and reached out to Layne in the seat beside him.

Her eyes flew open. "What's going on?"

He didn't need to answer because the pilot came over the intercom to tell them they were flying through a thunderstorm.

Carson checked the time on his phone. "It looks like we'll be landing in a thunderstorm too."

That was the understatement of the century. The rest of the flight was bumpy as hell, and Layne gripped the armrest so hard out of terror that he wrapped his arm around her and held her for the remainder of the flight into Wyoming.

Lightning streaked all around them in panoramic view, flashing through the dark sky.

He didn't feel at ease; nothing was as it should be. If he didn't know the time for himself, the state of the sky wouldn't tell him whether it was day or night.

After a tooth-grinding landing, he opened the hatch door and paused in the frame, sweeping his stare over the parking lot.

The empty parking lot.

A growl burned on his lips. "Where the fuck is Oaks?"

He grabbed his phone and called the office. As soon as Willow's voice projected into his ear, he exploded, the frustrations compounded over the past twenty-four hours all coming out. "Oaks said he was picking us up. I didn't question it. I let him make that call. Now I see why he had to pick us up—where the hell is my truck?"

"We picked it up so it wasn't sitting at the airstrip."

He saw the logic. But he really disliked being stranded—unable to make a getaway if it came to that.

Fury welled in his chest. He needed to protect Layne, and they were sitting ducks on this runway. While he was pretty sure that the steel of the jet would deflect bullets, he didn't like it. Not one goddamn bit.

His sister's voice on the line jostled him out of his dark thoughts. "I tracked Oaks on his GPS. He's pulling into the parking lot now."

At that moment, an unfamiliar car rolled in, highlighted by a flash of lightning. The boom of thunder that followed had Layne flattening her body against his back where he still stood in the open doorway.

He reached back and gripped her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze even as he went on high alert.

"Willow. That's not Oaks's old truck."

"No. It's his new car."

"Why the hell would he choose now to get a new car? Everything about this situation is fucked up enough without adding new vehicles I don't recognize into the mix!"

"Calm down, brother. You're on home turf now. We've got your six."

"What do you know about having anyone's six? You were never even in the military." Even though he was going a little off the rails, his lips still twitched at his sister's words.

Oaks climbed out of the car and popped open an umbrella. He ran across the asphalt to lead Layne under cover so she didn't get soaked in the storm. Carson didn't fare so well and was drenched to the skin by the time he hit the back seat beside Layne, with Oaks at the wheel.

"Where the hell did you get a new car?" he demanded as soon as the door shut.

"You told me to get rid of the truck you hated so much."

"We've been gone twenty-four hours. How did you manage that so fast?"

Oaks put the car in gear. "Shit happens fast in my world."

Fuck. Carson's heart couldn't take much more.

They had to get out of there. Back to the Black Heart Ranch.

The only place he could truly keep the woman he loved safe.

At least he thought he could—until bullets started flying.

* * * * *

"Who the fuck is trying to kill us now!" Carson shoved Layne off the seat and onto the floor.

The sharp metallic thumps on the sides of the car pierced the silence. She screamed as her brain caught up to his exclamation and she realized someone was shooting at them.

A bullet punched through glass, shattering it.

"Jesus Christ. Hang on!" Oaks jerked the wheel to the right. Tires screamed against the asphalt as he simultaneously stomped the gas.

Heart pounding out of her chest, Layne battled for air. She was stuffed into a narrow spot, the lumpy car floor digging into her ribs and making it hard to draw breath on top of the fear cutting off her air supply.

More bullets sprayed the side of the car, and Oaks jerked right again before straightening out.

She screamed, clutching at Carson who guarded her with his body. "Who the hell is shooting at us?"

"Do you have a fucking tracker glued to your ass or something?" Oaks demanded.

If one of those bullets hit a mark… Her blood iced over at the thought of one hitting Carson. She'd just found him again. She couldn't live without him.

Oaks took another sharp turn. The car veered, tossing her side to side in the cramped space. "Stay low. I'll handle this."

"Tell me what's happening." Carson's voice rumbled by her ear, but she felt the vibration through his chest.

"Fuck!" Oaks let out a low grunt of pain.

Carson levered his body off hers and peeked at his brother. She couldn't see what was going on.

"How bad is it, Oaks?"

"Only nicked me."

Terror swallowed Layne. He'd been hit by one of those bullets. The gunfire didn't sound like anything she'd heard in Wyoming shooting ranges either. That was no hunting rifle—it was pumping out bullets, spraying them far too fast.

"Stay down. I'll get us home."

Carson's muscles were rock-hard with tension.

"What's going on? Oaks, are you okay?" Her voice pitched higher in panic.

Carson's warm, callused fingers stroked her temple. Her eyes flew open wide. She couldn't believe he was trying to soothe her when Oaks had been shot and they might not make it out of this.

The car jerked left, then right. Gravel sprayed the underside of the vehicle, making her jump in reaction. Again, Carson brushed the hair off her temple and followed it with a tender kiss.

"Take the mountain pass home. The trees are thick. We can lose him there."

"That's the plan." Oaks didn't sound weakened from the bullet, just pissed off.

After what felt like an eternity, the car hit pavement again, and Oaks stomped on the gas. Her mind spun.

"Who was shooting at us?"

"Pretty sure it was your friendly neighborhood stalker," Oaks bit off.

"Oaks! We'll discuss this when we get to the ranch."

He was trying to protect her from knowing the truth.

"Did you see who it was?" she asked.

"No, doll. It's too dark and I didn't even make out the vehicle before I threw you on the floor."

"You can let her up now." Oaks sounded like they were discussing the weather. Like every day of the week, every month of the year, he drove through a hailstorm of bullets to get his brother and his old girlfriend to safety.

With all those siblings, maybe he did.

"I'm not letting her up until we're home. Layne, you all right?"

She'd be stiff from the crumpled position she was in, but alive. She nodded.

"Five minutes."

"Make it four," Carson growled.

It felt like less than four minutes. When the tires transitioned from a bumpy road to a smooth one, she tried to picture where they were on the map. Suddenly, Oaks braked.

The car stopped.

Carson peeled himself off her and threw open the door. The rush of rain and a crack of lightning filled the car.

He reached down for her hand and yanked her out of the car. When she emerged, she looked at her surroundings, struggling to get her bearings.

"Where are we?"

"The Black Heart. Our ranch, honey. Come on, let's get out of the rain." He took her by the hand and ran to the big ranch house she didn't recognize from the old days when she'd visited.

It was too dark and the world too streaked with rain for her to take the time she wanted to drink in the look of the ranch now. But the lane that had once been rutted, complete with potholes and patches of gravel, was now paved into a smoothness that was far better than the state roads.

As soon as the door shut behind them, she, Carson and Oaks looked at each other.

Carson pointed to the deep furrow carved into Oaks's cheek. "Willow is going to lose her mind."

Swiping his forearm over his cheek, he smeared most of the blood away. "I'm fine."

Layne stepped forward. "Carson, you find the first-aid kit. I already patched up one Malone today, I can fix another."

At that moment, a tall, striking, dark-haired woman burst into the entryway. One glance at her brothers and her shoulders wilted with relief.

"What the hell happened to you guys? I was watching the GPS tracker. You were all over the road!" She rushed to Oaks and reached up toward the graze on his cheek. "That's a bullet wound. What the fuck, guys?"

"When did we give her permission to cuss?" Carson drawled.

"We didn't," Oaks responded.

Confused by who the woman was, Layne stood off to the side, waiting for an introduction.

The woman planted a hand on her curvy hip and cocked her head with an air of annoyance. "I'm old enough to swear, drink and smoke. I'm not your baby sister anymore."

Layne blinked. Stunned.

Of course. This was Willow. All grown up. And gorgeous enough that it was no wonder she was irritated. With five older, very overprotective brothers, she probably didn't get treated the way most young women would.

Layne counted backward in her mind. Willow had to be close to twenty-four years old.

She extended her hand toward Willow. "You probably don't remember me. I'm Layne."

She turned big gray eyes on her, fringed in thick black lashes, and bit down on her bottom lip. She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't remember you. But I can see you're shivering. Come with me and I'll get you some dry clothes and a blanket."

"No. I need to help Oaks first. He was shot."

She whirled on Oaks.

"Oh no. You shouldn't have reminded her." Oaks started away, boots thumping on the new hardwood floors.

"As if I wouldn't notice, Oaks. Somebody tell me what happened."

They all ended up in the kitchen with Oaks sitting at a long wooden table. Carson slipped away and returned carrying a box that she could guess was filled with medical supplies.

Willow put the coffeepot on and soon the rich scent flooded the space. She buzzed between her brothers, pouring mugs of coffee for each of them.

Layne eyed the box. "There's a lot of medical supplies." She reached in and pulled out a medical stapler, brow cocked at Carson.

He gave an awkward shrug. "You never know around here."

Oh god. What had she gotten herself into? And she wanted to be with Carson. That meant she'd belong to the Malone family. His brothers would be her brothers. His sister…well, she couldn't wait to get to know Willow better.

They all had a lot of catching up to do.

She stripped off her wet sweater and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair, where it gently dripped on the tile floor.

As she cleaned Oaks's wound, he never even blinked.

"It's going to leave a scar."

He glanced up at her face. "It's not the first."

"It's the first anyone can actually see," Willow piped up.

He slanted a warning look her way and endured the rest of Layne's medical care. She didn't fuss over him and quickly bandaged the wound.

Willow turned her head from Oaks to Carson. "I feel left out. You both have gauze taped to your faces."

Carson issued a rough chuckle and mashed his hand over her head, rubbing her hair into disarray. "Be glad you don't, sis."

She ducked away from his hand and smoothed her hair. "Sit down and drink your coffee while you tell me what happened tonight."

Layne stepped up to Oaks and took out her phone. "Before we do that, give me your bank details."

His brows pinched. "What for?"

"I'll send you money to fix your car. It's my fault that it got shot up."

"Shot up!" Willow's outburst went unnoticed.

Oaks shook his head. "You're practically family, Layne. Or you will be if my dumb brother doesn't fuck it up. I'm not taking your money."

Her heart sputtered. She met Carson's gaze and saw the truth of Oaks's words in the depths of his gray eyes.

If they made it through this, they were strong enough to make it forever.