Top Gun Tiger: Protection, Inc. - Book 7

by Chant, Zoe

  Ethan had once joked that Merlin could be airdropped into Afghanistan and meet his old buddy, a travelling rug salesman. They’d all laughed at that… until they’d been airdropped into Afghanistan and Merlin actually did run into an old buddy. He was a travelling pots-and-pans salesman, but close enough. They’d had a whole conversation in a language Ethan had never even heard of, but Merlin could speak fluently.

  He knew so many languages that he should have gotten pulled out of combat duty and into translation—which, Ethan supposed, was why he’d never seen Merlin speak anything but English when any officers were in hearing range. And when Ethan asked him how he’d learned them, Merlin had claimed that his mother had primed him by sleeping with language lessons playing all night when she was pregnant.

  But that was Merlin. He had a story to account for everything, but he told them with a wink that made it obvious that he wasn’t even trying to fool anyone. If anyone called him on it, he’d just tell another ridiculous story. What was he trying to hide?

  Then again, there was plenty that Ethan himself hadn’t told his team. They knew about his brother-in-law Hal’s security agency, and that Ethan sometimes helped them out. But they sure didn’t know that Hal could turn into a grizzly bear. And he’d never mentioned Destiny at all. He told himself that she was none of their business, but the truth was that it hurt too much to talk about.

  Destiny.

  He tried his damnedest not to think about her, but the most ridiculous little things always managed to remind him. Just now, it was the rushing river beside them, and the mud that had spattered their boots and camo. It made him think of the mud they’d plastered over her dancing dress when they’d first met. He never had bought her that new dress—he’d offered again, but she wouldn’t let him—and they’d never gone dancing, either. And they never would.

  Why’d she have to be a shifter? Ethan thought for the millionth time, though now that he’d seen her tiger, it was hard to imagine her without it. If she wasn’t, she’d have never heard of mates, and we’d be together now.

  But then he thought, also for the millionth time, It wouldn’t have made a difference. You’ve seen her teammates fall in love, and call that being mated. When she said, “We’re not mates,” what she meant was, “I don’t love you, and I never will.”

  It had been two years since she’d turned him down. He’d have expected the pain to have eased by now. But it was still as sharp as if it had been two minutes ago.

  It’s ridiculous for me to be so hung up on her, he thought. People move on from divorces. Why can’t I move on from a woman I never even dated?

  “What about you, Ethan?”

  Ethan had completely zoned out. “What about what?”

  “You gonna re-up?” Pete asked, obviously repeating himself.

  Ethan had been thinking about it, off and on, but he made up his mind at that moment. What was the point of leaving the Marines? He had nothing waiting for him in civilian life.

  Oh, sure, he had Ellie, and soon he’d have nephews or nieces or one of each. But Ellie was in Santa Martina, and there was no way Ethan could stand to live in the same city as Destiny, so tantalizingly close and yet so frustratingly apart. He’d have to live somewhere else and visit. And if he was only visiting anyway, he might as well stay where he was. There was nothing like getting shot at for distracting you from your problems.

  “Three misfits plus me,” Ethan thought. Make that four misfits.

  “Yeah,” Ethan said. “I’ll re-enlist. What about you guys?”

  Merlin ran his hand over his clipped blond hair. “I am definitely—”

  Ethan’s foot came down on a hidden gopher hole, and he stumbled. At that exact moment, Merlin let out a yelp, then reached over his shoulder to slap between his shoulder blades, like he’d been stung by a bee. At the same moment, Pete winced slightly and lifted a hand to touch his back.

  “Ambush!” Ransom shouted, and gave Ethan a hard shove.

  The last thing Ethan saw before he went tumbling over the edge of the ravine were all three of his men collapsing, unconscious or dead.

  Then he hit the river hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The current was fierce, tumbling him head over heels. By the time Ethan had managed to extricate himself from his heavy pack, he’d been swept far downstream. He struggled to regain control, desperate to get back to his men, but he was no match for the white waters. The current tossed him this way and that, then sucked him down in an undertow until he thought he’d drown. He fought his way to the surface, and managed a single gulp of air before the rushing waters flung him into a boulder. He saw a bright burst of light, and then only darkness.

  Ethan awoke cold and wet and confused. His head throbbed fiercely, there was a stabbing pain in his side, and it was hard to breathe. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a brown blur, and he could hear nothing but a roar of white noise.

  Then memory rushed back. The ambush. The river.

  His vision slowly came into focus, though it was a few more moments before he could process what he was seeing. He’d been washed up against a rock outcropping at the edge of the river. Most of his body was underwater, but the force of the current was pinning him against the stone. A lot of tree branches and other debris had washed up with him, then piled atop him.

  He started to pull himself out of the water, but dizziness swept over him as soon as he raised his head. Ethan lay back down. If he got partway out and then passed out again, he’d be swept away and drowned. He had to stay where he was until he got a little more strength back.

  Ethan wasn’t a medic, but he knew some basic battlefield medicine. He’d been flung against the rocks and hit his head hard enough to knock him out, and he was still dizzy. Concussion, for sure. Every time he took a breath, it felt like someone was jabbing a knife into his side, and the deeper it was, the more it hurt. He’d been instinctively taking shallow breaths to reduce the pain. So he’d also cracked or broken some ribs.

  Bracing himself, Ethan deliberately took a deep breath to see if he could figure out how many. It was cut off by an excruciating coughing fit. An alarming amount of water ran out of his mouth. No wonder his chest felt so congested. How long had he been lying there, cold and wet and with his lungs half-full of river water? He was in excellent physical condition, but that seemed like a recipe for getting sick.

  Ethan started to cough again. Then, over the roar of the river, he heard voices, and forced back the cough with sheer willpower.

  “He has to be dead,” said a gruff male voice. “Let’s go back, set the explosives, and call it a day. We got three out of four prime candidates. That’s good enough.”

  “I agree,” said a woman. “It’s been almost four hours. We could blow the entire operation if we spend any more time here.”

  “We can’t just assume he’s dead without seeing a body.” That was a slightly higher male voice. “I say we keep searching.”

  The gruff male voice spoke again. “Don’t sweat it, Kritsick. Locals call this the Disappearing River: anything you throw in is never seen again.”

  The high male voice, who was presumably Kritsick, said, “And if he’s alive and blows the whistle, this entire project will never be seen again.”

  “Ayers?” asked the woman. “It’s your call.”

  A new male voice, deep and commanding, spoke after a brief pause. “Even in the wildly unlikely event that McNeil turns up alive, what does he know, really? Most likely, he’ll report that one of his men shouted ‘Ambush!’ and pushed him into the river to save him. He’ll be told that his teammates were killed in an explosion. That doesn’t contradict what he saw. They’ll still blame the terrorists the team was sent to search for. Maybe they’ll give Pierce a posthumous medal for saving McNeil. Makes no difference to us.”

  “What if he saw the darts?” asked Kritsick.

  “Unlikely,” said the woman. “They’re quite small.”

  “Even if he did, that part of the report won’t go any
where,” said the gruff voice. “This is what our people within the military are for.”

  Our people within the military. Ethan’s heart sank. He couldn’t run back to the base and get help—anyone could be in on the conspiracy, even his own commanding officer. Ethan was absolutely alone, with no one he could trust but himself.

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what McNeil might have seen,” the gruff voice went on. “He’s dead.”

  “We’re moving out,” Ayers said firmly. “We need to set those charges. We’re already hours behind schedule.”

  “Who’s going to tell Lamorat we lost one?” Kritsick asked.

  Lamorat, Ethan thought. What a weird name.

  “I will,” Ayers said. But it was only after a long silence. Ethan realized that they were all afraid of their boss, funny name or not. “Come on. We have to go.”

  Ethan lay still and listened to their retreating footsteps. The pain in his head made it difficult to think, but he willed himself to clarity.

  “Three out of four prime candidates,” they’d said. That meant the rest of his team must be alive, and intended to be used for… something.

  Shane Garrity, one of Destiny’s teammates at Protection, Inc., had once been in the Air Force. Ethan had only heard his story second-hand—Shane didn’t like to talk about it—but he knew that Shane had been on a mission when he and his team had been knocked out with drugged darts, then kidnapped by a black ops agency called Apex. Their disappearance had been covered up with a false report that they’d been killed in action.

  That sounded incredibly similar to what Ethan had seen and heard. The only problem with that theory was that he’d been under the impression that Apex had been destroyed by Protection, Inc. In fact, Ethan had helped out on one of those missions. But was Apex really gone? Or had it only suffered a setback and the loss of some bases?

  Ethan bet on the latter. Those people he’d overheard had to be from Apex. But that meant his men were in grave danger. The Apex agents had called them “candidates,” and Ethan had a terrible feeling that he knew what they were candidates for.

  Shane hadn’t just been kidnapped, he’d been tortured, experimented on, made into a shifter and given special powers in a process that few survived, and forced to become an assassin. He and one of his buddies, Justin, had been the sole survivors out of the eight airmen who’d been captured. The last Ethan had heard, Justin was still so traumatized by the experience that he was living in self-imposed exile, refusing Shane’s attempts to bring him home.

  Ethan had to rescue his teammates before Apex killed them. Or worse.

  Chapter 5

  Destiny

  Destiny couldn’t believe how much Protection, Inc. had changed. Two years ago, the agency had been full of unhappy misfits. Hal had been a driven workaholic, Lucas had been brittle and arrogant, Nick had been in a permanent state of rage, Fiona had been snippy and secretive, Shane had been haunted and hollow-eyed, and Rafa had created an elaborate false front to disguise his loneliness.

  Destiny had liked to think she’d been the only normal, cheerful person there. But now that years had gone by and everyone else had found their mates and sorted out their problems, she had to admit that she, like Rafa, had only been better than the others at putting up a false front. Like the old movie had said, they’d been dancing as fast as they could.

  Now Protection, Inc. was full of happy people who’d found themselves when they’d found love, and the only unhappy misfit was her.

  “I’m pregnant!” Grace announced, beaming. “Two months along!”

  Destiny wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t tell from any change in her figure, but her purple curls had an extra shine and bounce, and she just seemed overall glowy. Even more than that, Grace’s mate Rafa had recently acquired a permanent grin, so engrossed in some wonderful news he couldn’t wait to share that Destiny was surprised he hadn’t literally walked into a wall.

  “That’s great,” said Hal. “Our twins and your child will be so close in age. They’ll get to grow up together.”

  “Only six months apart,” said Ellie. “Almost triplets!”

  “Now that’s what I call a pack,” remarked Nick. Nudging his mate Raluca, he said, “If we got started right now, ours and theirs would practically be quadruplets.”

  “I am not getting pregnant tonight,” Raluca said firmly. “First I finish my degree, then I launch my business. Then we have children.”

  Nick looked wistful, but said, “You’re the one who gets pregnant. Your choice.”

  Raluca traced his silver dragon armlet with a slim finger. “Our children will have big brothers or sisters to look after them.”

  Nick glanced at Rafa and chuckled. “Watch out, man. Little brothers and sisters exist to annoy the fuck out of their elders.”

  “Not in this case,” said Rafa. “I expect yours will acquire excellent manners… from their mother.”

  Nick grinned. “My mom had great manners. Doesn’t always take.”

  As the rest of the bodyguards and their mates congratulated Grace and Rafa, Destiny added her voice to the chorus. She’d probably never have children of her own, but at least she’d have friends’ kids to babysit and spoil. Ellie was only a month away from giving birth to twins.

  She hoped Ethan would come back in time for the birth. Destiny had known he hadn’t wanted to deploy again, though of course he hadn’t said so. But she could see the weariness in his eyes. He hadn’t looked like Shane or Justin, thank God, like he’d spent the last couple years choosing every night between nightmares or not even trying to sleep. But he’d looked like Hal and Rafa and Destiny herself had when they’d left the military to start Protection, Inc. Like they were… done. Ready to move on.

  He could move on. His time was almost up. But when she’d asked him if he was going to re-enlist, he’d shrugged, then said, “Probably” without looking particularly enthusiastic about it.

  And that was that. He’d be in for four more years. At least. Four more years of—

  A sudden, overwhelming sense of danger swept over her, making her whip around and scan the office. Nothing seemed amiss. No one was there but her friends, and they were all laughing and talking. But rather than relaxing her, the sight only made her more tense. She wanted to scream at them that something was wrong—

  “Are you all right?” Fiona murmured in her ear.

  “Yeah, fine,” Destiny replied automatically.

  But the sense of danger didn’t go away. Destiny tried to make herself think rationally about it. Unlike some people present, she hadn’t been tortured or otherwise traumatized, and had never had a panic attack in her life. So was she getting a genuine premonition? Should she order everyone out of the office, in case she’d picked up some subliminal clues that someone had planted a bomb in it or something…?

  But when she thought of that, she realized that she wasn’t afraid for anyone there. She was afraid for Ethan. Though she had no idea why, she was convinced that Ethan was in terrible danger.

  He’s a Recon Marine, she told her subconscious or whatever it was. He’s in danger all the time. He can take care of himself.

  Her subconscious wasn’t having it. Destiny’s heart was hammering against her chest. Her palms were sweating. The drumbeat of danger, danger, danger was so loud in her mind that she could barely hear herself think.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered, and stumbled for the bathroom.

  Once she was inside, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked strange. Wild. The green shimmer was strong against the brown, like her tiger was staring back at her.

  Suddenly worried, she dug into her purse and took out her pills. Apart from the emergency stash tucked into her bra, she kept them in a box meant for birth control, so she could always tell by checking the calendar if she’d forgotten to take one. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that she’d taken one that morning. She wasn’t due for another till tomorrow. So at least it wasn�
�t that.

  But then, what was wrong?

  Ethan, that strange inner alarm informed her. Ethan’s in danger. Go help him, or he’ll die!

  It didn’t sound like her tiger. It wasn’t a voice at all—it was a feeling, a knowledge, a compulsion that Destiny herself was translating into words. All the same, she asked her tiger, Is that you?

  Nope, her tiger replied. No idea what it is. I can feel it too, though. Shall we go check it out?

  If I can figure out where—

  “Destiny?”

  Destiny jumped about a foot in the air, dropping her pill box. Fiona snatched it up before it could hit the ground and handed it back to her.

  “Thanks,” Destiny said, replacing it in her purse.

  “You’re not all right,” Fiona remarked. Her leaf-green eyes were narrow with worry. “Mind if Justin comes in? You look like… Well, you look like he used to, sometimes. He noticed, too. He’s right outside the door.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Destiny said, resigned. “Why not? It’s a unisex bathroom.”

  Fiona opened the door, and Justin came in. He looked her over with his coal-black eyes, so startling against his copper-red hair and lashes. “Did something happen to you that I don’t know about?”

  “Happen to me?” Destiny echoed, bewildered. “Like what?”

  “Something bad,” Justin said succinctly. “You look like you’re having a flashback.”

  “No. It’s nothing like that. It’s—”

  Ethan, Ethan’s in danger, stop wasting time and go rescue him, now, now, now!

  The command had the force of a hurricane. She gripped the sink with both hands, as if otherwise she might be swept away.

  “Are you sick?” Fiona asked. “Would you rather we stepped out?”