Chapter Fifteen

John

The muscles in John's legs spasmed even tighter. He must have pulled a muscle breaking through the drywall. Now he found himself limping heavily down the stairs while holding on to the railing for dear life. He was on the fourth floor and had to stop to sit down and rest.

The adrenaline he'd used to break through the drywall and escape was wearing off fast, leaving him exhausted. He'd already had to use his inhaler a second time, and the headache he'd been left with from whatever drug they'd used on him was thudding out a rhythm of its own, making it hard to think.

He had to get out of this building. There was no way he would give up, but John needed to rest before continuing. Why would the Noah Group lock him up and leave? If he was so damn important to them, wouldn't they want to keep an eye on him? He was getting the distinct feeling something else was going on. Nothing made sense.

He needed to forge on. His only mission was to make it out of this building and get help. He had to find his way back to Stryker.

With what little strength he still possessed, John pulled himself up using the railing and continued down the staircase one step at a time, telling himself that when he reached the bottom, he'd take another rest before carrying on. His lungs and legs were burning, but he refused to give up. He'd never give up.

***

Stryker

"You're never getting out of that cell. You've already admitted to kidnapping. Don't make it worse for yourself; tell us where John is," Elias demanded.

Stryker couldn't believe they were in this situation. All his worry over the Noah Project people, and the biggest threat came from a spoiled, self-centered asshole who believed he was entitled to something he'd never worked for.

"Give me my inheritance, and you can have your John back," Raymond hissed.

"And we're supposed just to let you walk out of here like you didn't commit a crime? As if you didn't commit kidnapping? Have you lost your mind?" Elias asked.

"I don't have the money, asshole," Stryker growled. "So stop asking."

"You couldn't have blown through over six million dollars by now," Raymond stated.

"Unlike you, I found a better way of spending the money. I donated every cent to the Wounded Warrior Project to help former service members reintegrate into society and get the help they need."

"You gave away all that money?" Raymond screamed, his eyes bulging from their sockets.

Stryker looked at his friends. They understood. He could tell by the looks on their faces.

Before anything more could be said, Gunner and Conor walked in. They'd already been briefed, and Conor looked spitting mad and didn't bother with pleasantries.

"You were found coming in on Route 18, so that means you took John out of the county," Conor stated.

"No," Raymond said.

"You have him stashed outside," Conor continued.

"Yes, I threw him in a hole," Raymond growled.

"In a house then."

"Maybe."

"Commercial building?"

"No."

"Abandoned?"

"What?"

"He's injured."

"Yes, I may have knocked him around a bit for fun."

Stryker was barely holding it together. "If you hurt him, I will kill you."

"Don't worry, he didn't; it's all a bluff," Conor said. "John isn't in this county; he's in an abandoned or shut-off older building, not a house, not outside. By the timeline, I'd say it's within a thirty-minute drive of Gator's bar, give or take."

Raymond's face fell. "I didn't say that."

Conor smiled. "You didn't have to."

"Jefferson County is the only one close enough to fit the timeline," Elias said.

"Direct everyone to search the area of Jefferson closest to Marshall. John will be in a recently abandoned commercial building, and from the read, I'm getting the building to be over fifteen stories tall," Conor said.

"How the hell do you know that?" Raymond growled. "What the fuck are you?"

"Your mind isn't that hard to read. In fact, it's pretty basic," Conor scoffed. "Wait, there's something else at play here, isn't there?"

"Fuck you." Raymond sneered.

"You were hired," Conor stated.

"Hired?" Brick asked.

"Someone approached you, didn't they?" Conor asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Raymond said as he turned to stare at the wall.

"Turning away isn't going to help you," Conor said. "Money. It all comes down to money. If you couldn't get it from Stryker, someone else was willing to pay for John."

Raymond spun around and charged the bars, trying to grab Conor. Gunner struck fast and easily caught the asshole's arm before it got near Conor.

"That's it," Conor said. "Be mad, it'll be easier for me. Your heightened emotions spew out information that you're trying to hide. Someone hired you to take John."

Stryker was about to lose his shit and beat the information out of Raymond when Conor said the words that stopped him in his tracks.

"It was the Noah Group."

Fuck.

"I've found something," Spencer announced suddenly. "There's only one place that fits that description."

"Let's go," Stryker said as he headed for the door.

They couldn't waste another minute.

***

John

John was limping heavily by the time he made it to the first floor, but he refused to stop. He pulled the heavy stairwell door open and walked into a dark lobby area that looked as deserted as the rest of the building. A central desk with a large information board stood in the middle, but no companies' names were on it. The building was either closed down or abandoned.

He wondered if there was an alarm system set up he could trigger to bring the authorities. John scanned the area but saw nothing, not a single blinking light. He sighed.

The front door itis.

He limped in that direction. By now, his lungs and legs were fighting him every step of the way, but he pushed on. He saw flashing lights in the distance when he was only a few feet from the glass front door. As he watched, they got progressively closer. Relief flowed over him as he sank to the ground and waited for the cavalry.

His ordeal was almost over.

***

Stryker

Stryker saw the staggering figure in the distance sinking to the ground, and before the vehicle slid to a stop outside the front doors, he was jumping out of it, heading straight for John.

"I'm here. How bad are you hurt?" He dropped to his knees beside his lover as the other team members piled out of the cars.

John smiled, his face scratched and bruised. Stryker's blood boiled at the sight. "I'm doing okay. Made it all the way down but damn, I'm glad to see you."

Stryker helped John to his feet. "Let's get you to the hospital, get you checked out. I'll tell you all about how we found you in the car."

Brick patted John on the back. "Sounds like a plan. Hell, I'm glad you're okay." He looked around at the team members, all smiling and thumbs-upping at John. "Let's get the man someplace safe, then we can re-form at the lake house." He clapped John on the arm again. "Good to see you."

The team piled into the cars, John with Stryker, and he leaned his head against Stryker's broad shoulder, and closed his eyes.

***

Stryker watched John as he slept in the hospital bed. The doctor wanted to keep John for observation to make sure the drug Raymond had given him didn't cause any lasting effects. John also had a hairline bone fracture in his right foot along with muscle bruising. John's whole ordeal was due to Stryker's fault alone. His past had caused John to be targeted and hurt.. He'd failed to protect the one person he cared about above all others, and now he had to live with that. It would never happen again.

"Are you going to sleep at all?" John's groggy voice brought Stryker out of his dark thoughts.

"Eventually, when you're back home," Stryker answered honestly.

He couldn"t let down his guard since they were still technically out in public.

"I'm fine. You should rest."

"You're hurt, not fine."

"I'll heal in no time, and this was all my fault. Hell, if I hadn't gone back to the apartment alone, and been pissy, none of this might have happened."

"None of this is your fault," Stryker stated.

"Same to you. None of this is your fault," John said as he squeezed Stryker's hand.

"How can you say that?"

"No, it's Raymond's fault, not yours. And if you want to go back even further, it's your mother's fault for making such a shitty choice." The growl in John's voice was unmistakable.

Stryker had explained everything to John in the car on the way to be treated. It was almost dawn of the following day, and he hoped he'd be able to take John home when all the tests came back.

"How are you feeling?" Stryker asked.

"Changing the subject will not stop the truth from being the truth, but I'll allow it. I'm feeling much better. My headache's gone at least, and I can think again."

"The doc said it will take a couple of months before your foot returns to normal."

"Normal for me is relative," John said with his adorable, crooked smile. "I'll settle for being back in the shop working again."

"We'll get you back there as soon as possible, I promise."

"Good, now climb into bed here with me and get some rest," John said as he slid over to make room for him.

"I don't want to hurt you." Jostling the bed could cause him pain.

"The only thing hurting me is being away from you, now get that gorgeous ass in here before I get angry."

"Angry?"

"Yes." John smiled again. "You won't like me when I'm angry."

Stryker couldn't help but laugh at the old Bruce Banner line from the television show in the late '70s.

"How can I say no to that," Stryker teased before standing and carefully sliding into bed beside John.

John wasted no time curling into his arms and laying his head on Stryker's chest. The feeling of complete contentment washed over Stryker as he held John, and he decided he probablycoulduse a catnap.

It had been one helluva day.