Stolen By Raze (Grabbed Book 4)

by Lolita Lopez

  He relaxed at that bit of information. The last thing he needed was to be caught up in a conspiracy that involved his ex and the Splinters.

  “I assume that if you received the transmission with this information that means we’re being tasked to escort Keen and his team back to The City?” Raze guessed.

  “Yes.”

  Sensing there was more, he prodded, “And?”

  “And, well, it seems that the source of the information that helped identify the bombing suspect has volunteered to…well…act as bait to draw the suspect out for our team or the Shadow Force to grab him up,” Cipher continued haltingly.

  “That’s normal operating procedure for Shadow Force.”

  “Yes,” Cipher agreed.

  Narrowing his eyes again, Raze asked bluntly, “What are you not telling me, Cipher?”

  “The suspect in the bombing? It’s a man called Harkin, and the source who identified him from the photographs in the news was—”

  “Ella,” Raze said, jumping to his feet and swearing under his breath. “I’m going to strangle Torment!”

  Keen appeared in the doorway with an expectant look on his face. “I guess you’ve heard.”

  “Yes,” Raze ground out between gritted teeth. “When do we leave?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Keen replied. “Shadow Force will brief us when we’re in the air.”

  “Get the team ready for departure,” Raze ordered, his hard gaze falling on Cipher.

  “On it, boss.”

  “Hey,” Keen gripped his shoulder, “are you in the right head space for this? If you’re not—and I don’t know if I would be in your situation—you can stay back.”

  He shrugged off the other man’s hand. “She’s my mate. It’s my duty to protect her.”

  “Just your duty?”

  Storming out of the office, Raze didn’t answer that uncomfortable question. He didn’t want to admit what the skilled detective had sussed out in only a few hours together. He didn’t want the truth laid bare and exposing all the vulnerable, weak parts of him.

  After getting the team on their transport, Raze took his seat and buckled in for the ride. He couldn’t shake the sense that he needed to speak with Ella. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea of her helping Shadow Force to draw out Harkin, but he also recognized that she was a valuable asset. For a brief moment, he considered explicitly forbidding her from the leaving the Valiant, but he could practically hear her laughter ringing in his ears. As if she would ever let him forbid her from doing anything!

  Tense and feeling as if he were running out of time, he warred with himself about what to do. There were regulations regarding communications while in the field. He was already on thin ice after punching Swift and stealing Ella from him. Another infraction and he would get more than a slap on the wrist.

  Fuck it.

  He pulled his handheld tablet from his tactical vest pocket and quickly opened the message dashboard. His fingers hesitated over the screen as he tried to decide what type. He couldn’t say anything about Harkin or George or anything related to the mission, but he didn’t need to because that wasn’t important. There were only five words that mattered right now, and they were worth whatever punishment he earned.

  I love you. Be careful.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Rise and shine!”

  Ella jolted awake and hissed with pain. She clutched at her abdomen and scowled at Torment through squinted eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “That would take hours to answer.” He tossed clothing at her. “Get dressed. We have to leave soon.”

  Rubbing her face, Ella shook her head. “I barely closed my eyes! What’s the rush?”

  “There’s been another bombing. This time in The City.”

  “What? Where?”

  “The opposition party election headquarters.”

  “He bombed the New Dawn offices?” Shocked, she reached for the clothing Torment had thrown her way and slung her legs over the edge of the bed. “How bad?”

  “Very,” Torment said, turning his back on her so she could have some privacy. “Hundreds wounded. Dozens dead. All hell has broken loose down there. There are riots in the streets outside the government buildings.”

  Ella took a careful step away from the bed and tested her stability. She didn’t wobble or feel dizzy so she kept walking toward the bathroom. Closing the door, she quickly relieved herself and turned on the shower.

  “Are you taking a fucking shower?” Torment rapped his knuckles on the door. “Ella?”

  “I had surgery! I’m gross!”

  “I just told you a bomb went off in The City and your first instinct is to take a shower?”

  “Yes.” Unwilling to argue with him, she ignored his continued protests as she soaped and rinsed. She inspected the tiny incision sites on her abdomen, marveling at how Risk had gained access to her body. The areas were tender, but not painfully sort. Bending over didn’t feel so great. Neither did stretching her arms over head. She skipped her hair, deciding she would have to just pull it up and out of the way, and finished her shower. She looked at the clothes Torment had given her and wrinkled her nose. Although clean, they were stained with—well, she really didn’t want to know what—and faded. Clearly, he expected her to blend in with the crowds of people who would be flooding the streets.

  “Are you done?” he asked as she exited the bathroom, obviously exasperated as he thrust a pair of brown boots and white socks at her. “They’re a little big. I couldn’t find anything smaller.”

  “It’s fine.” She sat in the chair next to the bed to pull on the socks and boots. As she laced them up, she winced with discomfort. “Do you think I could get something for the pain?”

  Torment’s frustrated expression softened. “Is it bad?”

  “No, but it’s not comfortable.” She tightened the laces on the boots. “If we are going to be doing a lot of walking, I’m going to need something to take the edge off.”

  “Wait here.”

  After Torment left, she tied the laces and tried on the faded brown jacket he had left on the bed. The arms were a little long, but she could make it work.

  “Lift up your shirt,” Torment said when he reappeared.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your shirt.” He held up a small pain relief patch like the one Pierce had worn. “You’re too small for the whole patch so we’ll cut into fourths. You’ll get a low dose that will make you comfortable.”

  She eyed him warily as he cut the yellow patch with a pair of surgical scissors he’d taken from a cabinet drawer. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Torment,” she grabbed his wrist, stopping him from pressing the patch onto her skin, “is it safe?”

  “You’re no good to me if you’re passed out or high on pain medicine.”

  Convinced he wasn’t putting her at unnecessary risk, she let go of his wrist and let him press the patch onto the soft skin above her navel. There were already small bruises blooming around the minute wounds from the surgery. The skin was already knitted back together beneath the clear, shiny patches covering the areas Risk had cut.

  “Risk does good work,” Torment remarked, gesturing toward her stomach.

  She lowered her shirt. “That’s what I hear.”

  Torment seemed to waver. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, “but I want to help, if I can.”

  Seemingly reassured that she had made her decision, Torment gestured for her to follow. Upon leaving her room, she noticed this corner of the medical bay seemed dimmer than the other side of the long hall lined with rooms. The nearby medic station was empty as well. Where was everyone?

  When Torment pressed a finger to his lips, she realized he was sneaking her out of the medical bay. Of course. She frowned at the back of his head. Had even messaged Raze?

  She waited to ask that question until they were tucked away in a small star
ship. She didn’t recognize any of the other men onboard and noticed the way they averted their gazes and gave her wide berth. Torment disappeared for the first half hour of the flight, but when he reappeared, she caught his attention.

  He crouched down in front of her. “Yes?”

  “Did you talk to Raze?”

  “I sent a message.”

  “And?”

  “I haven’t heard back yet. Have you?”

  She reflexively reached for her tablet. “Shit! I left it in the med bay.”

  “It will be there when we get back.” He stood and slipped into the seat next to her. He retrieved a tablet from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. “Here. Look at this. You need to be pr3epared.”

  Reluctantly, she accepted the tablet and scrolled through the images on the screen. She flinched at the gruesome sight of bodies and blood pools in the street outside the election headquarters. The photos got worse the longer she scrolled, and she thrust it back at him. “No. Take this. I don’t need to see anymore.”

  “I want you to remember what you’ve seen. Remember what he did,” Torment insisted. “All those old feelings you had for him are still inside.” He tapped her temple, and she smacked his hand away. “The boy you knew and loved is gone and was replaced by this monster.”

  “He’s not a monster. I know monsters. George is a monster. Harkin is weak and gullible. He doesn’t find pleasure in watching others suffer.”

  “He didn’t, but he might now.”

  “He doesn’t.” Betrayed by the uncertainty in her voice, she turned her gaze toward the window. What if I’m wrong? What if he has changed? Turned cruel and mean by the experiences of his life since leaving me?

  Cold, black space stretched as far as she could see. There were only a few faint twinkles of light. Was Raze out there somewhere thinking of her right now? Was he angry that she had agreed to help Torment? Was he sick with worry, imagining all the ways things could go badly?

  Guilt gnawed at her for the remainder of the trip. He already had so many responsibilities to shoulder. Adding one more worry to his already heavy load might be too much. What if he lost his focus? Got distracted and hurt?

  “Where do you think we should start?”

  Ella glanced back at Torment as they disembarked the cloaked ship. They were in temporary outpost outside The City. The base was bustling with activity. Starships landed and departed. Armed soldiers jogged out of the gates. Officers shouted orders over the whine of the spaceship engines.

  She had been thinking about the answer to that question for most of the trip. “There’s one surefire way to get Harkin’s attention.” Her stomach turned cold with dread. “George.”

  Torment reached for her arm, stopping her mid-stride. “Raze will kill me if I let you go see that man.”

  “He’ll try,” she agreed.

  “Even if I wasn’t worried about Raze knocking out my front teeth, I still wouldn’t let you go to George. I won’t allow you to indebt yourself to him again. There has to be someone else.”

  She considered the many contacts she had. Only one had the highest chance of providing them with useful information. “We could try Jolly.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Jollinda James. She’s a muck.” Ella wrinkled her nose as the first cold raindrops hit her skin. She lifted the hood on the ugly jacket Torment had given her and hoped it was more watertight than it looked.

  “The hell is a muck?” Torment asked, mirroring her movements and covering his head.

  “She’s a muckraker. She specializes in exposing corruption and poverty and all the other horrible shit that goes on in The City and the government.”

  “So she’s a journalist?”

  “Yes, but the government pressured her newspaper to fire her. She’s been publishing a one-page newsletter with a group of likeminded friends. It’s a low-cost affair. Bare bones,” she added, “but it works. She also hosts an evening radio show.”

  “With the Mouth from the South?”

  “Yep.” Ella gestured toward the gate. “Are we going that way?”

  He nodded and fell into step beside her. Showing that he trusted her judgment and her knowledge of The City, he remained quiet as she led them out of the controlled sector and through the broken, winding streets of the poorest neighborhoods. The rain fell in thick sheets of water, filling the potholes and cracked sidewalks. In no time, they were wading through a shallow, filthy river. The boots Torment had given her were perfect for the cold, nasty slog ahead of them.

  The miserable weather and the bombing seemed to have subdued the usual crowds in the open-air market. Torment followed closely as she sloshed her way through the familiar aisles. She raised an eyebrow when he stopped just long enough to buy a couple of oranges from a fruit stall.

  “They never have these in the ship’s market,” he explained, tucking them away into his pocket. “They sell out too quickly, and they’re my favorite.”

  “You’re lucky to find them today,” she remarked, glancing around the mostly empty stalls. “There aren’t many heritage foods sold in Low Town.”

  “Heritage foods?”

  “The things that our ancestors from Earth brought with them to transplant here,” she clarified. “They’re expensive and most farmers send their crops to the wealthier side of town.”

  “Must be my lucky day.”

  “Let’s hope your luck holds.” She sloshed through the last few aisles of the market and ducked into a murky alleyway lined with backdoors into various shops and restaurants. Steam carrying the mouthwatering smells of hot food wafted out of the open doorways along with the usual kitchen noises. When they passed by the rear exit of her favorite noodle shop, Ella inhaled deeply and made a silent promise that she was coming back for a bowl of her favorite soup before getting back on that transport ship.

  A few doors down, she paused and glanced back at Torment. “Do you have any money? We may need to bribe our way inside.”

  He nodded and reached into a pocket hidden on the inside of his jacket. He withdrew a stack of crumpled bills. “Here.”

  She peeled a few bills from the stack and stashed the rest in her bra, much to the shock and amusement of Torment. Money in hand, she knocked on the nondescript brown door and stepped back. Nobody answered the first time so she stepped forward and knocked again. This time, the door swung open with a horrible screech.

  “Yeah?” A scowling man shoved his face in the small crack between the door and the frame. “What do you want?”

  “I need to see Jolly.”

  “She expecting you?”

  “No.”

  “You a friend?”

  “Yes.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Take off your hood.”

  Ella did and flashed the folded money in her hand. “Yours if you let us inside.”

  “Keep your money, doll.” His scowl melted into a smile as he recognized her. “You sign my copy of Hush, and we’re even.”

  “Deal.” It wasn’t the first time she had gotten something in exchange for an autograph or a photo. Pocketing Torment’s money, she glanced back at him and gestured toward the door. He followed close behind. Unease radiated from him. Like a dog with its hackles raised, Torment was ready to snap at the first person who got too close to her.

  The noisy workshop smelled heavily of grease and metal. Hunched over their worktables, junkers stripped down various pieces of machinery into reusable or sellable parts. Ella kept her head down and her hood up as she trailed the doorman across the workshop floor and into a cramped hallway. He asked them to wait while he went into inside the employee break room.

  A short time later, he returned with a heavily creased copy of Hush. She tried not to think about why it had been handled so roughly. Taking it from him along with a pen, she signed the bottom of the page, just under the image of her sitting on a fluffy white stool with hairpin legs. She wore only a lacy bra, her hair dropping in waves around her bare shoulders. She
had strategically placed her hands between her thighs, one hand on top of the other as she leaned forward just enough to accent her bust. She wore no panties but nothing was visible. It was only the hint of what was hidden behind her hands that made the photo so provocative.

  Torment’s lips had flattened into a thin line, but he said nothing. She ignored his prudish distaste and smiled at the guard who was helping them. “Anything else you’d like me to sign?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Just this is more than enough.” Holding the magazine tight to his chest, he led to them to a door a little farther down the hall. He knocked and pushed it open. “Friends here to see you, Jolly.”

  Ella stepped into the room and pushed off her hood. Across the small office, Jolly glanced up from her desk, a red pencil behind her ear and a notepad in her hand. Flopping back in her chair, she grinned. “Hot damn, Ella. You just won me ten bucks!”

  “How’s that?” Ella asked, taking one of the chairs across from the desk.

  “I told Jed you wouldn’t be able to stay away after you heard the news,” Jolly explained. “She was certain you would stay on your spaceship and never come back to this shit hole after what they did.” Turning her attention toward Torment, she gestured to the other empty chair. “Jed’s my sister. She owns this place.”

  “And what is this place?” Torment settled into the chair.

  “Jed’s Junk,” she answered matter-of-factly. Then, shrugging, she added, “It’s a lot of things. Pawn shop. Metal scrapping. If Jed can make money on it, she does it under this roof.” With a slight distasteful frown, she said, “She’s down at the bomb site now with her scrap crew. She can be a real vulture.”

  “She has mouths to feed,” Ella interjected, thinking of Jed’s two young girls.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” Jolly grudgingly agreed.

  Feeling Torment’s pointed gaze, Ella sat forward and cut off the chit chat. “I’m here for information.”

  Jolly sighed and reached for a pile of papers on her messy desk. She shifted a few stacks around until she found what she needed. “This is all I’ve been able to rundown so far. It took us all by surprise, you know? Like who would have expected something so horrible?” Shaking her head, she promised, “I’ll get to the bottom of it, Ella. I’ll find out who gave the order to tear down your shelter.”