by Jami Gray
Bishop rubbed his face before dropping his head into his hands and bracing his elbows on the table. “Fucking great.”
The quiet beep of the coffee machine snagged my attention, and I made my cup of joe as we all waited for Bishop to decide if the risk of pursuing a high-level officer was worth it. Coffee poured, I turned to watch Bishop struggle with his decision.
“How deep did you dig, Rabbit?” His voice was tight.
“Couple of layers. Didn’t want to try any deeper in case I sent up a warning flare.”
Bishop turned to Ricochet. “What’s your take?”
Ricochet shrugged. “I’m inclined to agree with Megan. Moreno is too obvious.”
Bishop sucked in a deep breath and gave the green light. “Rabbit, start excavating Hawes, but for fuck’s sake, be careful. Our asses are blowing in the wind here.”
“Copy that.” A faint knock drifted down the line, followed by Jinx’s feminine murmur. Then Rabbit was back. “Megan, darlin’, Jinx just confirmed our heads-up reached Dev, and he’s currently on alert.”
A tide of relief swept through me, and the cup wobbled in my hand. I set it down before I could drop it and leaned heavily against the cabinets as I battled the hot press of tears. “Thank you.” Even choked, the words sounded so inadequate, but they were all I had to offer.
“You’re very welcome,” Rabbit said gently, then he cleared his throat. “One other piece of news to share.”
“Does it involve not getting our asses burned?” Bishop asked in a disgruntled tone.
“Snuck a look at the police report on Megan’s visitor from the other night. Fingerprints from the scene got a match.” Rabbit rattled off some names. “I called in Kayden and Cyn to help run down names and addresses.”
“Send me a couple,” Ricochet said. “I’d rather be out poking under rocks than sitting around, twiddling my thumbs.”
“Names and addies on their way.” The clatter of keys accompanied Rabbit’s voice. “And that, ladies and gents, is the extent of my wonderfulness.”
“As always,” Bishop said, “damn fine job, Rabbit.”
“Aw, you know how to make a country boy blush, big guy.”
“Bishop…” I hated to add to the responsibilities piling on his broad shoulders, but there was one more thing we needed to do before it was too late. He looked at me, and I laid it out. “You need to bring the colonel in.” If the threat was that close, she needed to be prepared for the fallout.
His jaw flexed, but he dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “Rabbit, have Jinx bring the colonel up to speed.”
There was a pause, then Rabbit asked with a hint of hesitancy, “All of it?”
Bishop pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, all of it.”
“’S all right. Hunker down, then, and consider it done.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” A dial tone replaced Rabbit’s voice.
For a moment, we all sat there, each of us lost in our own thoughts until Ricochet’s phone buzzed, probably with the names Rabbit had promised. Ricochet pulled it out, and I realized that my best guide in this crazy new reality might be getting ready to hit the road. It was time to take the next step in figuring my shit out.
“Ricochet?” When he looked up, I said, “Before you head out, maybe we could work on some basic dream-walking skills? Like how to keep him out without locking myself and others in? If you have time?”
Bishop shot me a look. Ricochet tapped the corner of his phone absentmindedly against the table and didn’t answer right away as he studied me. His silence made me nervous but not enough to back down. I didn’t want to end up in a situation where my ignorance got me or them killed.
Finally, he set the phone facedown on the table. “I’ve got time.”
“You sure?” Bishop asked.
“Yeah.” Ricochet stood up. “I recognize one of the addresses Rabbit sent me. It’s a bar, no one worth talking to will be in for a couple more hours anyway.” He pushed the coffee table off to the side, clearing the area in front of the couch. Motioning me to the floor, he took a position opposite of me. As we settled in, he ran a critical eye over me. “You sure you’re up for this?”
Was I? Probably not, but then, if we waited for me to be sure, we’d be here forever. I shrugged. “I figure it’s like riding a bike. When you fall off, best to get right back up.” I gave him an unsteady grin. “Less time for the fear to grow that way.”
Humor lightened his eyes. “All right. Then let’s get to work on some defensive techniques.”
For the next three hours, Ricochet proved to be an exacting, unrelenting teacher. When he finally called it quits, not only had I managed to not only keep him out of my thoughts, but on our last run-through, I’d even wrested control of the dreamscape away from him as well. It wasn’t for very long, just long enough to slip the trap he’d laid. Then he took me through the bait-and-switch plan. The first time sucked, but determined to see it through, I made him go through it twice more before he called it quits.
Blinking my eyes open, I discovered that I was lying flat on my back while the dull throb in my temples had upgraded to a herd of elephants. When the afternoon light hit my blurry eyes, I groaned and threw an arm over them in a futile attempt to ease the pain. “Is it supposed to hurt like this?”
“Yep. Think of it like training a muscle. I’ll have Bishop grab you a couple of aspirin and some water. It should calm down soon.”
I listened to Ricochet walk away, and then came the rumble of male voices followed by the sound of a medicine cabinet opening and closing. I drifted for a minute or two before something cool and wet touched my arm. I finally lifted my arm away from my eyes to find Ricochet crouched at my side with a water bottle in hand. “Drink this.”
Gingerly, I pushed up until I was sitting with my back to the couch and took a few sips. Cradling the water bottle, I did my best not to think about anything. It was working. Then Bishop sat next to me, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me in. “Here.” He offered me two heaven-sent white tablets.
I took the aspirin then followed his lead as he had me lay my head in his lap. He pulled my hair free of the ponytail and began running his fingers through it. He kept his strokes soft and steady. It felt so good that I didn’t bother stifling a low moan of pleasure. With the help of his soothing hands and the aspirin, the pain eased off and started to fade.
The guys talked, but I didn’t pay attention, letting their rumbles wash over me as I soaked up Bishop’s touch. I heard the colonel’s name a couple of times and realized they were trying to figure out a proactive approach to her guaranteed irate reaction when she found out what they’d been keeping from her.
Most of my pain was gone when Ricochet said, “Well, I’m heading out. If I’m lucky, by the time I come back in, Delacourt will have vented her worst.”
I opened my eyes, happy to find that the light didn’t hurt, and watched Ricochet hightail it out of the house. It was strangely reassuring to know that these tough warriors were a tad intimidated at the thought of facing off against the colonel. Silence crept in as Bishop and I sat there in the quiet. Without the headache demanding my attention, I could not only feel the tension in Bishop, but I could also see it in the fine lines on his face. I caught his hand and pulled it to my chest, holding it over my heart. “You okay?”
He looked down at me and sighed. “Yeah, just trying to figure out if there’s a way through this that doesn’t end in a total mess.”
I let him go and pushed up until I was facing him and the couch. Unable to resist, I used a finger to smooth over one of the deeper lines disappearing into his scruff. “If you manage to find one, promise you’ll share?”
He caught my hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a soft kiss to my palm. His dark eyes roamed over my face, some of the harsh lines easing. “If we get thrown into a cell, you want to be my cellmate?”
Unable to resist his teasing, I put my free hand on his chest a
nd leaned in close so I could rub my nose against his. Pulling back, I was happy to see his lips twitch. “Sure, but I call the top bunk.”
“Babe, you can take top anytime you want.”
From inches away, I couldn’t miss the flare of want lighting the depths of his eyes or the need sucking out all the air between us. Taking him up on his invitation, I closed the scant distance between us and met his mouth with mine.
Chapter Twenty-Three
BISHOP
The minute she kissed me, I was lost. I opened under the first tentative swipe of her tongue. As if my permission was all she was waiting for, her hesitancy disappeared, her mouth moving over mine with a stunning boldness that left me craving more. Her taste—that unique honeyed spice tinged with the lingering hint of coffee—hit me like a fireball. Lust grabbed me by the balls, while want—and a softer tangle of emotions I refused to examine too closely—made me grip her hips with both hands as she climbed into my lap. When she settled over my aching cock, my groan was lost in our kiss. My fingers flexed against her curves as I tried my damnedest not to steal her control. As she teased and tempted, my willpower frayed. The hunger sucked me in, and my hands slid from her hips to wraparound the beautiful flame in my arms. Sinking one hand into her hair and clamping her delectable ass with the other, I dragged her close until the feel and taste of her were everything.
Eventually, the need for air became paramount, and our kiss ended. She kneaded my shoulders as she angled her head in silent request. Cupping her head with my hand, I nibbled along her neck as she sucked in air, her long lashes fanning her cheeks as her kiss-swollen lips took on a secret feminine curve. I pressed one last kiss to the base of her throat and rested my forehead against hers, waiting until those long lashes lifted and I was drowning in a midnight sea. “You are a dangerous, tempting woman.”
Her slow smile was filled with mystery and promise. “Thought you liked danger.” It came out on a husky tease.
Stroking her spine, I dropped a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. “Maybe not as much as I like you.” Like. Such a lame word to describe what she did to me, but neither of us was in the right place to finish what our kiss had started. I knew it, and she must have, too, because she sighed, her hands untangling from my hair to drift downward until she could wrap her arms around my waist and lay her head against my chest. Unable to resist holding her, I tightened my arms and rested my cheek on her bent head. For a moment, we sat there, quiet in each other’s arms.
She was the first to get us back on track, lifting her head and leaning back so she could see me. “Isn’t there something we can do besides wait on the others? If we’re stuck hanging around here, I’m going to start climbing the walls.”
As much as I wanted to offer to be her jungle gym, I reluctantly let her go, shifting mental tracks from want to necessity. “Rabbit’s digging into Hawes, the others are tracking down leads on the idiot who broke into your place, and once Jinx fills in the colonel, I’m pretty sure our twiddling-thumbs time will be over.”
Her gaze dropped, and she bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how it would be received.
Nudging her chin up until her eyes met mine, I said, “Spit it out.”
“What if we go back to the warehouse?”
Taken off guard by that, I repeated, “You want to go back to where you were held?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her answer, and her gaze was rock steady. This was obviously important to her.
“Okay. Why?”
Her hands plucked at my shirt, the only sign of nerves. “If I went back, I might trigger some more memories.”
I flattened one palm over her hands, stopping her nervous movement. “You sure you’ll be okay with that? You haven’t exactly taken it easy today.” Hell, even after the nerve-wracking ride with Rico, she dove right back in, determined to gain control over her ability. Her tenacity made me wonder why she worried about breaking. She had no give in her. No matter how many times she got shoved down, she got right back up.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
Yeah, she would be, but that wasn’t my worry. “I don’t know, Megan. You haven’t been back since—”
She covered my mouth with her hand. “I’m not asking just to ask, Bishop.”
Tugging her hand down, I searched her face. “Then why? Why now?”
Her gaze dropped as she tugged her hand free and scooted off of me until she was sitting back on the floor at my side. “I can’t explain it, but I get the feeling I need to go back.”
If anyone understood that kind of feeling, I did. “Okay.” Whether it was a mistake or not, she needed this, but she wasn’t waltzing in there without backup. “We don’t go in alone. If we can’t have Ricochet at your back, I’ll call in Wolf.” He was our next best option, and he’d be able to warn me if she got into trouble.
Relief filled her face. “Thank you.”
Puzzled, I frowned. “For what?”
She shrugged and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “For not babying me.”
I leaned over until I could capture her gaze. “Hey. It’s not about babying you.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Nope. Consider it me helping you figure out how to believe in yourself.”
That made her look at me. “What do you mean?”
“This is all about facing your fears head-on and taking back your control.” Her gaze slipped away, and I touched her chin, waiting until she brought her attention back to me. “There’s nothing about that to be ashamed or embarrassed of, Megan. It’s a hell of a move to make and takes balls. I’m happy to stand at your side while you do this. Wolf would say the same if you asked him. Besides, we’d be honored to stand by you to make sure nothing and no one gets to you.” It was stupid to make such a promise, but I wasn’t offering for the hell of it. She needed to know, in her bones, that she wasn’t on her own in this mess and that I and the rest of the team would have her back no matter what happened. I was no therapist, but I’d dealt with enough shit on my own to know that going back with her to where her nightmares had begun would be a crucial first step to her reclaiming her faith in her ability to see this through.
She sucked in a big breath. “Okay, then. Let’s do this before I chicken out.”
Before we left the condo, I gave Megan my Glock, reminding her that it was for backup only. She handled the weapon with an easy familiarity as she informed me her brother had insisted that his sisters be comfortable around weapons.
Since we were trying to keep a low profile, Wolf met us a couple of blocks away from the warehouse. We made our way through the nearly deserted neighborhood. The businesses had dried up years before, leaving this section down by the bay a virtual ghost town. Not willing to clue anyone in to our presence, we did our best to remain unseen. During the rescue attempt, our team ended up taking out a handful of gunmen with rap sheets that read like a who’s who of criminal intent. Most were linked to a foreign mercenary outfit specializing in questionable assignments. The ones still breathing had shut down tight and were awaiting extradition to various European countries. Whoever had hired them had deep pockets and enough power to keep them silent. Considering who our main suspect was, that was no longer a surprise.
Not many signs of the rescue still lingered—a few fire scars, pieces of police tape caught in a pile of old wooden pallets, and the drunken door hanging by a hinge and marred by black streaks from the explosives used to breach it. The rest looked as shitty as it had before. I took lead, with Megan behind me and Wolf bringing up the rear. Even though the place felt empty, I maintained a cautious approach, leading with my .45. Signaling Wolf to hold back with Megan, I stepped inside and cleared the main floor.
I didn’t bother with the second floor since there were no stairs to access what little remained of it, not to mention that most of it could be seen from below, thanks to the missing floorboards. When I was sure the place was empty, I gave a low one-two whistle for Wolf�
��s all-clear. They came in and waited just inside the door for me to join them. Wolf’s gaze quartered the interior, while Megan stood with unnatural stiffness at his side.
I put my gun away and took Megan’s hand. Her cold fingers interlaced with mine as we crossed the open space cluttered with rusted machinery, rotting pallets, and scattered containers before heading toward the back corner, our movements disturbing the thin layer of dust that had settled over the past weeks. The walls of the main structure were rife with jagged holes and topped by empty window frames that let in the afternoon sunlight. It didn’t reach the thick solid walls taking up the back quarter of the space. As we drew closer, Megan’s fingers tightened to the point of causing pain, but I didn’t let go.
I stopped when she did. “Megan?”
She looked right at the pitted metal door standing partially open. Her face was sheet white. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Over her head, I caught Wolf’s eye, and he looked grim but gave me a reassuring nod. He might not be all that keen on invading others’ thoughts, but he knew why I’d called him in. He understood wanting to ensure that we didn’t do more harm than good. Whatever he was sensing from Megan, it wasn’t enough to have him calling it quits. Yet.
Holding tight to that, I stepped between her and the door, blocking her fixed stare. “Megan.”
She looked at me. “I’m okay.” It came out shaky, but she drew in air and repeated, “I’m good.” This time it was stronger, surer.
Taking her at her word, I moved aside and pushed the door open. She locked her spine and walked into the darkness, Wolf and I on her heels. We stopped just inside the door, giving her space—emotional and physical. Not that there was much physical space to give in what was basically a makeshift cell. The iron ring she’d been chained to was still intact. Her movements were stiff as she moved forward then jerked to a stop, her attention centered on that damn ring. Her hands opened and closed at her sides.