Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

Despite my exhaustion, sleep proved elusive. Instead, my thoughts were a whirlwind that circled back on itself over and over. As much as I wanted to trust Remington, Locke, and McQuade, how could I involve them any deeper than they’d already gone?

They had no idea who was hunting me or, worse, why. The information might be useful, but it would only endanger them. Hadn’t they told me someone had gone gunning for them after they found my place?

The fact they’d come looking at all may have compromised them already. So what more harm could telling them have?

Around and around my thoughts went until even the idea of sleep became a distant memory. Analysis was what I’d done for years. Pull the problem apart, examine it closely, determine what actions can be taken and what should be done.

Even as I argued with myself about telling them, I had to acknowledge this could all be another layer of deception put into play by my captors. They’d tried everything else to break me. What could sting worse than bringing in “real” friends to “rescue” me?

Of course, I would trust them.

As soon as that idea tried to take purchase, I discarded it. First, I wouldn’t have labeled them as friends no matter how often we spoke. Second, if they’d cracked my systems enough to identify them as clients—well, chances were they’d have had enough information to get the answers they sought.

I’d given up a lot to…

I shuttled that thought to the side. Better to not even focus on it right now. The longer I lay here, the darker and more twisted the paths my thoughts traveled became. Sleep, no matter how vital, wasn’t coming.

Outside that door, three men waited for me and I needed to decide what the hell we were doing. Cutting them loose wasn’t an option. I wasn’t in any shape to do this on my own. Not yet.

Easing my way out of the bed, I was careful before I even put my feet down. They were going to hurt. The bandages helped. They helped a lot. But it didn’t change the fact that every part of my body was in pain of some kind.

Another reason I couldn’t rush through abandoning my rescuers. The fact I wanted to believe every word they said as well as wishing I could savor actually meeting them had nothing to do with it.

Yes, I could absolutely lie to myself.

The borrowed clothes were soft, but currently every part of my body was irritated so it wasn’t like it seemed to make much difference. Except… the clothes and the bandages and the food—they were all acts of kindness and care.

Something dreadfully lacking of late.

At the door, I debated attempting to go back to sleep one more time. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I discarded it. Without a decision, we were all in limbo. I’d been in purgatory for long enough that even this faintly improved state offered no real certainty.

Life, as my father used to tell me, offers you no promises. If you wanted something, you had to make it happen for yourself. That way, at least you knew you’d done everything possible if it didn’t work out.

There was an odd kind of comfort in that.

Trusting that wisdom, I opened the door. The light in the main room seemed almost too bright versus the darkness I’d been trying to rest in. The blur of motion said I’d snared all of their attention with my return.

Folding my arms, I leaned against the doorjamb. They came for me because I’d always been there for them, until I wasn’t. The revelation tore open old scars that had long since formed in the place where my friendships and family used to be.

Leaving my life as I had required severing all ties. I’d cut them, then cauterized the open wound their absence created. That scar tissue pulled taut as my links to these three men burrowed in.

No, not burrowed.

They were already there. I’d let them in when I hadn’t been looking. Growing attached when it was the last thing I should have done.

Dipping my head, I let their words roll over me. I wanted to believe them so badly. Eyes closed, I dragged in a deep breath of air.

“Yes,” Remy said, the softness of his tone wrapping around me like an arm over my shoulders, or a hug. It provoked hot tears to burn in my eyes. “Talk to us.”

Isolation might be safe but it was damn lonely. Blinking rapidly, I forced the tears back then lifted my head. “What I have are?—”

Before I could even finish forming the words Remy’s hand came up as did McQuade’s. All three men moved. The lights cut off abruptly and then Remy reappeared out of the darkness right next to me.

McQuade was a half step behind him and he had a weapon in his hand. His nearness dwarfed me even as he dipped his head. “Go with Remy. Locke will be right behind you. Do what they say and stay with them.”

“How are you getting out?” I understood extraction plans. He was covering our exit.

“Don’t worry about me, Sugar Bear.” McQuade’s breath teased my ear and I was barely able to suppress a shiver that raced over me from the brief contact. “I’m extraction and cleanup. I’ll find you.”

The last three words were a promise. “I’ll hold you to that,” I told him as sternly as I could manage. It came out breathy but I meant it.

“Yes, ma’am.” Then he shifted his attention to Remy. “Take care of her.”

“Of course.”

“Why do I feel like we’re not getting my deposit back?” Locke said with a manufactured sigh.

“Because you’re not a stupid guy,” McQuade said. “Give me sixty seconds then straight out back and down the hill.”

I didn’t have any shoes…

Locke passed a bag to Remington then he closed the distance. “I need to carry you, Patch. Trust me to get you down that hill?”

“Yes.” No hesitation was left in me. Not with the threat imminent right outside. Car doors closed. The slam of them increasing the danger with every second we lingered.

“Arms around my neck,” he murmured then I was being lifted. Contact sent fresh alarm through me, but his touch was gentle. “Can you wrap your legs too?”

I licked my lips, suddenly grateful for the darkness because my face caught on fire. “Yes.” I hitched my legs around him. His shirt was stiff—oh, he’d put on Kevlar.

“Helmet,” Remy said then something tugged over my head and there was something draping my back, not a blanket but… a jacket. “Keep your head down and tucked against him. Just let Locke run, don’t throw off his balance and stay as quiet as you can. We’ll get you out of here.”

The instructions all made sense. I lifted my head and pressed a kiss to Locke’s cheek. The two of them went dead still. “For luck,” I whispered.

“I’ll take it.” Locke’s voice dipped to a darker place for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “Ten seconds, Patch.”

I was glad they’d remembered. Hard to believe that was my job before. I’d get it back. Locke had one arm around me and he was moving. The position was extremely intimate, but he didn’t take any advantage of it at all. If anything, he’d gone into mission mode as I liked to call it.

Their focus was on escape.

Glass shattered somewhere and I couldn’t help the little jerk.

“Shhh,” Locke said, hum of sound soothing over the jagged bits of adrenaline scraping under my skin. “I’ve got you.”

His grip was firm, confident and then more glass shattered and the distinctive pop of gunfire erupted. We didn’t linger, Locke was on the move. He went from slow and deliberate to running.

I tried to shift my center of gravity with him, obeying the subtle signals of his body as he increased his speed. I wanted to lift my head and make sure Remy was with us. More gunfire filled the night, silencing whatever creatures might normally be out here.

So weird. No crickets. No frogs. No birds.

Just bullets.

Trusting them cracked more of the glass between me and the rest of the world.

McQuade would find us. Remy would take care of any targets that appeared between us and their exit strategy. Locke would never drop me.

That certainty erupted from beneath the debris my capture, incarceration, and torture left behind. Enemies had targeted me, located me, and stolen me from the safe haven I’d carved out for myself.

That haven was gone. I’d have to build again. I’d have to do it better so they couldn’t find me the next time. But the experience also proved to me there were at least three people who gave a damn enough to find me. They were still fighting for me.

The farther we raced from the house, the more distant the gunfire became. Something blazed bright in the distance. Even with my eyes closed and my face angled down, it made me wince away from the sudden flare.

“Definitely lost the deposit,” Locke grunted as he slowed. He was barely winded. A door opened. I swore my heart had to be racing faster than his. “Putting you in the car sweetheart,” he said, his grip shifting so he could rub my back gently.

It took a moment for the words to register like I was on some kind of internet delay, a few seconds behind when he said it and when it reached me.

“Oh.” I should apologize but it took effort to unpeel my grip from him. I was shaking violently. Adrenaline and reaction kicking in.

“It’s fine,” Locke said as he set me down into the backseat of what looked like a dark SUV. “More than fine. You feel good plastered against me.”

Heat scalded my face, and thankfully, there were no lights on inside the vehicle.

“Go,” Remy ordered and Locke moved to the driver’s seat, then Remy nudged me over in the backseat.

“Will McQuade really be alright?” I trusted him to save himself. He’d gotten out of some truly heinous situations in the past, but this—this felt different.

“He’s too much of an asshole not to,” Locke said, his voice light. The car started almost silently. Remy reached across me and gripped a seat belt then pulled it over me before he pushed the shoulder strap behind me.

“I need you to lay down,” he said, his touch light. “I want your head below line of sight.”

I glanced at him and his lap then back up.

“Yes,” he said. “Normally, I’d put you in the well but if we have to do offensive driving that will risk you getting hurt more. Once you lay down, I’ll pull the blanket over you.”

I licked my lips again cause we were already moving. Locke was driving straight out, no lights, nothing. There had been a lot of trees, I hoped he could see where he was going.

My heart slammed a bruising cadence against my ribs. We didn’t have time to argue this. “Okay,” I said and then ignored my own bruises to lay down. Before I made it a single inch though, Remy caught my chin in a grip so gentle and light it was barely there—yet it seemed to burn its imprint on my soul.

“I’d like a little luck of my own,” he whispered scant seconds before his mouth sealed over mine. It was swift, hot, and absolutely breath stealing. The swipe of his tongue left its own brand on me and my lips tingled in the aftermath as he raised his head. “Yes, definitely feeling luckier now.”

He tucked me against him and I pressed my cheek against his leg all too aware of how even more intimate this positioning was. As promised, he draped a blanket over me and then touched a hand lightly to my shoulder.

“We’ve got this,” he said. “You’re safe.”

“You have this,” I repeated.

I’d keep repeating it mentally until I believed it.

They had this.