Callie was shoved into the first cell. She stumbled and turned, watching as the door clanged shut after her.
One of the men yanked on Brooks. “No cell for you.”
“Fuck you,” Brooks replied.
“Boss wants more of a chat with you in the house. You have work to do.”
Callie watched, helpless, as they dragged Brooks out. His gaze caught Callie’s just before he disappeared out of the building.
Shit. She kicked the bars. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do. She couldn’t get out of the cell, couldn’t help him.
Callie dropped to her knees. She tried to escape the plastic ties on her wrists, but the more she worked them, the more she rubbed her wrists raw. Finally, she gave up.
What now? She stared at the doorway. She hoped Brooks was okay.
Then she heard it. A long, pained roar.
She leaned her forehead against the bars.
She heard another cry. Oh, Brooks.
They were hurting him, torturing him. She forced herself to pull in some deep breaths. A part of her, the healer, wanted to be there. To soothe him and make it better.
That need had driven her to become a medic, and then a pararescueman in the Air Force. She had a built-in need to heal.
Another long, agonized cry and she squeezed her eyes closed.
Brooks was hers—part of her team, her friend. Worry and fear twisted in her gut.
Callie was a healer, but she was also a fighter. That part of her wanted to make the assholes hurting him pay.
Hold on, Brooks. Hold on.
* * *
Brooks was just a mass of throbbing pain.
He couldn’t even walk. As the two goons carted him back to his cell, his boots dragged through the sand, leaving a trail.
His brain felt like mush, and his body was still shivering. There was light, then shadow. He heard the squeak of metal hinges, and then he was dumped onto cool, cracked concrete.
His cheek hit the floor and he groaned. Metal clanged.
A second later he heard a woman’s voice. “Brooks. Oh, God, Brooks.”
He blinked. “Callie?” That was Callie’s worried voice. He forced his eyelids to open.
He heard the faint scrape of someone shifting, and realized she was directly on the other side of the thin, adobe wall.
“Talk to me,” she said.
“I’m…here,” he croaked.
“How badly are you hurt?”
“I’ll live.” He hoped to hell that was the truth, because he didn’t want to die. “They—” he swallowed hard “—had a car battery, electrocuted me.”
“Assholes,” she spat.
Her harsh, cutting tone was like a blade. He knew Callie was a medic at heart, but he also knew she could fight and protect as well. She was strong, tough, and gorgeous. So totally out of his league.
“I’m okay now.” He tried to move, but the pain was so bad he thought he might pass out. He was no longer wearing a shirt. “Fuckers shredded my favorite T-shirt.”
“I don’t care about your shirt. Are you having any difficulty breathing? Any numbness or tingling?”
“No. Just sore.”
“I’m here, Brooks.”
He heard her sit down.
“I told them I couldn’t hack the Team 52 database,” Brooks said. “They wouldn’t listen.”
“Just rest. You did well.”
Acid swirled around in his stomach. They’d come for him again. They were after something and they had a real hard on for it.
Brooks swallowed. “I’m afraid.”
A pause. “Me too.”
He raised a brow. “You’re never afraid. You and the team rush into danger constantly. Without blinking an eye.”
“It’s different when you’re equipped, armed, and have backup. Especially when you’ve got a well-trained and experienced team with you. And definitely when you have a super-smart tech guy at the other end of your earpiece.”
Brooks grunted, feeling a hint of pride through the pain. But his damn eyelids felt so heavy.
He heard her calling his name again. He loved the sound of her voice. “I’m…awake.”
“I do feel fear,” she said. “I try to embrace it and use it on a mission. But I know how it can eat at you, poison you until you freeze.”
Brooks frowned. There was something in her voice, but his head was too foggy to put the pieces together.
“It’s the worst when you’re alone and have no idea what to do.”
He pressed a palm to the wall. “Callie?”
She pulled in an audible breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things worse. We aren’t alone. We’ll get through this.”
“Yeah.” He wanted her safe, but there was a part of him that was damn glad he wasn’t alone.
But suddenly, Brooks really wanted to know when Callie had been alone and afraid.
Then his mind drifted and he heard someone humming. Shit, it was him.
Callie’s startled laugh made him blink his eyes open.
“Are you humming ‘The Imperial March’ from Star Wars?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“You’re a total geek.” There was affection in her tone.
Yeah. He couldn’t deny it. He’d been smart from a baby and fast-tracked through school. He’d been a skinny nerd, several years younger than his fellow high schoolers. They might as well have painted a target on his head.
He was damn glad when he’d finally shot up and filled out. He’d hit the gym, and then things had changed. But he’d never deny what he was. He was way better with the computer than with people.
“Hey,” he said. “You recognized the Imperial March. Maybe you’re a closet geek.”
She made a sniffing sound. “I don’t think so.”
Despite the fucked-up circumstances, he smiled.
“When we get home, we’re going to spend a whole day gaming and eating pizza,” she said. “At your place, since your TV is bigger.”
Brooks could picture it and it sounded like heaven. He smiled, wincing at the pain. “Deal.” He loved hanging with her. “And definitely my place. Your TV should have been retired three years ago.”
“It’s only two years old!” A light laugh. “I’m going to kick your ass at Call of Duty, Jameson.”
“Dream on, Kimura.”
Noises. Voices getting closer. His gut cramped.
“Callie.”
“I’m here.” But her voice was tense.
The goons were back. They stopped in front of Brooks’ cell, opened the door, then dragged him up. Pain radiated through his body, and he groaned.
“He needs medical attention!” Callie called out.
“Quiet,” Goon One barked.
Goon Two moved and opened Callie’s cell. He grabbed her arm.
“Any trouble and I’ll break your legs,” he growled.
What the hell? Brooks opened his mouth, but she shook her head.
The two of them were led up to the main house. Mr. Ordinary met them in the empty, dust-laden living room. There were a couple of battered chairs, and a desk with a computer on it. And that damn car battery resting on a rickety table.
Brooks swallowed. The guy looked so mild-mannered and normal. But Brooks should know by now that evil rarely looked like evil.
A hard push from behind shoved him into the chair in front of the computer.
Goon Two kept a hold of Callie.
Brooks saw that she was looking at him, or more importantly his chest. They’d cut his shirt off him during their last bout of fun and games. He watched her gaze roam over the burn marks and bruises. Her jaw firmed and something shifted in her dark gaze.
“I told you, I can’t hack the system.” Brooks looked at Ordinary. “It’s not possible.”
“Perhaps I haven’t offered you the right incentive,” Mr. Ordinary said.
Brooks gritted his teeth and shrugged. “It’s not about incentive. Torture me again. You’ll get the same results.”
>
The man made a humming noise. “Oh, we aren’t going to torture you, Mr. Jameson.” He turned his head. “String her up.”
Brooks’ stomach dropped away. He swiveled and watched Callie struggle against her captors. The two goons changed her bindings, tying her arms above her head. One grabbed a chain hanging off a beam from the ceiling and looped it through her hands. With a yank, she was pulled upright until only her toes were on the floor. Her tank top rode up, showing a strip of smooth flesh at her waist.
The glare she shot the men was hot enough to strip paint.
“Now,” Mr. Ordinary said. “Get me access to your team’s database.”
Brooks tasted bile. “I can’t.”
One of the goons moved to the car battery, lifting the leads connected to it. Before Brooks could say anything else, the man jammed the leads against Callie’s belly.
Her body jolted and her teeth clamped together.
“No!” Brooks roared.
Chapter Four
Callie tried to breathe through the pain.
Her gaze locked with Brooks’, horror stamped on his rugged face.
The goon hit her again, and her body shuddered under the voltage. God. Damn.
“Callie.” Brooks’ voice broke.
“It’s…okay, Brooks.” She panted. Her brain was racing, and her gaze focused on his chest. His hard, muscled chest. His tattoos were so sexy and gorgeous.
“I can’t hack the system,” he yelled at the man in charge. “They’ve changed access, and there is no way in.”
The goon touched the leads to Callie again, electricity running through her body.
When it finally stopped, she was drenched in perspiration and shivering. She tried to focus on the room around her, and heard a scuffle.
Brooks was fighting, trying to get free of the goon pinning him to the chair. Brooks landed a good punch and the man staggered back.
“I can’t do it,” Brooks yelled. “Even if I wanted to. Stop hurting her!”
“He’s…telling the truth,” she managed to push out.
The boss man paused, taking her in for a long moment. She could totally see why Brooks had nicknamed him Mr. Ordinary. He looked like a school-teacher. His gaze turned back to Brooks again.
“Take her down,” Brooks pleaded. “Hurt me instead.”
Warmth bloomed in Callie. He was such a good guy.
“I need to find the wind jewel,” Ordinary said.
Wind jewel? Callie frowned.
Brooks frowned as well. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“The ehecailacocozcatl of the god, Quetzalcoatl.”
Brooks shook his head again. “What is that? Mayan? Aztec?”
“Quetzalcoatl was the Aztec god of wind and wisdom. His Mayan equivalent was Kukulkan, and the Inca called him Viracocha. He commanded wind, air, storms, and thunderbolts.”
Shit. Callie ran her tongue over her teeth. If the wind jewel was ancient tech that could control storms, they did not need these guys getting their hands on it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brooks said.
Mr. Ordinary’s blue eyes narrowed. “I have intel that says your team retrieved an ancient weapon in Antarctica last year.”
Fuck. Callie traded a glance with Brooks. The Antarctica mission, where they’d saved some archeologists and security specialists from Treasure Hunter Security, was classified. They’d also recovered a dangerous weapon called a vajra.
Brooks shook his head. “I don’t—”
The goon hit Callie with the leads again. Her teeth snapped together, and she groaned through the pain.
“Stop!” Brooks yelled.
“Don’t lie to me,” the man said.
“The Antarctica artifact was from India,” Brooks said. “Of Hindu origin.”
Mr. Ordinary stared at him. “I think perhaps you’re finally telling me the truth.”
“We don’t have this wind jewel,” Brooks said. “Now, let Callie go.”
“I must find the jewel. My boss is very insistent.”
“Who’s your boss?” Callie asked.
Ordinary shot her a sharp smile. “A woman with grand plans to save us all.”
By finding a powerful, ancient weapon. Sure. Callie managed to contain her snort.
Ordinary shoved his hands in his pockets. “Very well, if your team can’t give me the artifact I need, then we move to Plan B. I’ll need you to hack some different data on the wind jewel.”
Brooks looked belligerent.
“I want you to hack the Smithsonian, Mr. Jameson.”
Callie hid her reaction. The Smithsonian had a huge repository of information on artifacts from all around the world.
Mr. Ordinary strode over to Callie, and circled around her hanging body. “Otherwise, I will hurt your lovely friend some more. More than she can bear.”
Brooks swallowed.
Callie shook her head. “Brooks, don’t—”
“It’s okay, Cal.” He sat at the computer and then looked up at Ordinary. “You’ll let us go afterward?”
“Of course.”
Callie heard the lie in the man’s voice. The asshole couldn’t keep them alive. The two of them knew too much, and had seen his face.
Mr. Ordinary nodded to the goon beside Callie. The man pulled his Glock and pressed it against Callie’s knee.
“Get to work, Mr. Jameson.”
Brooks shot Ordinary a molten glare, then his fingers flew over the keyboard, concentration on his face.
Callie knew Brooks was damn good at what he did. He’d hack the Smithsonian.
She hoped these assholes did not find what they were looking for.
But before Brooks succeeded, she needed to think of a way to get them out of here.
* * *
Brooks was tossed roughly back in his cell. He barely caught himself from smashing his face into the floor.
Next door, he heard them shove Callie into her cell as well. Then the goons were gone, laughing and joking as they left.
Brooks scrambled up and moved to the wall. “Callie?”
“Here.” Her voice was rough.
He reached through the bars, trying to reach her cell. He stretched his arm out as far as he could.
Her fingers brushed his.
Brooks shuddered. The connection helped.
“You’re okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Could grab my surfboard and hit the waves, no problems.”
He smiled. “You like to surf?”
“I grew up in Hawaii.” The duh was in her voice.
“Hey, I didn’t want to assume a stereotype.” He could totally picture her on a board—lean and sleek in a tiny bikini.
His cock stirred. Shit. He had no right to picture her in a bikini. This was Callie. She would never look at him that way.
“I’m sorry they hurt you,” he said.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You didn’t hurt me.” Her fingers stroked his wrist.
“If I hadn’t been so distracted, they might not have grabbed me—”
“Brooks, they sent a team after you. I saw the footage. None of us could have escaped that, not even Lachlan.”
Lachlan had pure badass running through his veins. He probably could have stopped it, or at least taken down a few guys in the process.
Brooks sighed. “I supposed my computer part is long gone.”
“Actually, I have it in my car. When we get home, it’s all yours.”
“One ray of light.” He smiled, but it died quickly. He shifted on the hard concrete. “What if what I did helps them?”
He’d cracked the Smithsonian’s system like an egg.
Callie’s fingers stroked his wrist again. “Let’s worry about one thing at a time.”
Brooks leaned his head against the bars and started to hum. The main Star Wars theme song. A second later, Callie joined in, completely off-key.
He laughed. “You told me you hate Star Wars.”
�
�I don’t, although I’m not fond of the prequels. No way a smart, accomplished senator would fall for a whiny, complaining teenager.”
“He was powerful and badass.”
“I find other qualities much more important.”
Brooks desperately wanted to know what those qualities were. He tried to remember the last guy Callie had brought to team drinks or a barbecue. It’d been a while, so he couldn’t remember.
“Brooks?” Her tone had turned serious. “Mr. Ordinary is in there, combing through that Smithsonian data. If he finds what he needs on this jewel…”
Brooks’ other hand curled around the bars.
“He’ll kill us,” she finished.
“Damn, I figured you were going to say that.” Brooks sucked in a deep breath. The thought of anyone killing Callie made his stomach curdle. Shit.
“Brooks, you’ve held it together so well, don’t fall apart on me now.”
He grunted. “I’m used to assholes beating me up. I won’t let these ones get me down.”
“What?”
“Well…I was a total geek in school.”
“No way.” Her sarcasm was unmissable.
“Hey. I was a few years younger than the rest of the guys in my year, and I was a big-time nerd. I got beaten up a lot. And I was incredibly awkward with girls.”
“But you’re a hunk of gorgeousness,” she said.
He blinked, warmth punching through him. She thought he was gorgeous? “Um, I didn’t fill out until my late teens. I was at college by then.”
“Well, you definitely filled out just right.” A pause. “Brooks, we need to escape or we’re dead.”
“Shit, okay. What’s our plan?”
“Well, my hands are tied behind my back.”
“Okay.” They hadn’t bothered to re-tie Brooks.
“So, when the guard comes to get us or bring us food, you need to attack him.”
Brooks pulled in a long breath. “I can do that.”
“You can’t let him get away. If you attack, you attack to kill.”
Brooks froze. “I’ve never killed anyone before, Cal.”
“It’s never easy.” Her voice was solemn.
But he had to do this. In order to get out alive, in order for him to save Callie, he had to do it. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
Mission: Her Freedom: Team 52 #6 Page 3