by Cynthia Eden
A sharp retort cut through the night, the sound popping like a firecracker. Sydney knew exactly what that pop was, and even as her arm burned from the bullet as it grazed her flesh, she was diving down into the sand.
Gunfire.
Had the rebel group found them? They’d put so many miles between them, switched vehicles, made a false trail.
They shouldn’t have found us.
Then more gunfire came, kicking up the sand near her. She tried to hunch down, to make her way closer to the shoreline so that she’d have at least the slope of the sand to hide behind.
She hadn’t even thought to bring a weapon with her. Amateur mistake. But she’d just been going to see Gunner. Taking a quick stroll had seemed safe enough.
Now she was a target.
The shots were coming from the right, from the dense shadows just past Gunner’s villa. Her breath heaved in her lungs. The bullet had just grazed her. She’d been lucky.
Very, very lucky...especially considering the big target she must have made as she walked down the beach.
Then there were more shots, but not coming from the right near the last villa. Her team was rushing to help.
Cale was beside her in seconds. He crouched down, even as he kept his gun aimed at the spot where the shooter had been. “You all right?”
What was a little scratch? “Fine... Slade?” Because maybe he was the real target. Maybe the group wanted their hostage back.
“He was gone. He went out for air.” His head lifted, just a bit, as he scanned the area. “Logan was going round, trying to get behind the shooter.” His words were a mere whisper.
Silence. The pounding surf kept pummeling the beach. She expected to see Gunner come rushing up to join the fight.
He didn’t.
After a few more minutes, Logan appeared. “Get to better cover,” he ordered, and they rushed for the nearest villa.
Gunner still wasn’t there. Neither was Slade. Sydney licked dry lips. “Gunner?”
Logan glanced toward the door. “He needed some time alone.”
Her heart was racing too fast. “We have to find him! If he’s out there, he could be in danger.”
“It looks like the shooter is already gone.” Grim. Only there was something about Logan’s eyes, that hard, brittle glare that had Sydney on edge. “Just one shooter,” Logan muttered. “Just one, and he cleared out fast.”
“You think he tailed us?” Cale asked as he glanced carefully through the blinds.
Logan gave a quick shake of his head. Then his gaze fell on Sydney’s arm. “He hit you.”
“Barely a scratch,” she whispered. “Look, we have to find Gunner and Slade!” They were the priority, not her flesh wound.
Logan’s fingers curled around her good arm. “You were in the moonlight, walking on the beach?”
She knew where this was going. “Good thing he was a bad shot, huh?”
Logan didn’t speak.
“Incoming,” Cale murmured.
Then Gunner was there, rushing inside. “I heard gunfire!” His gaze flew to Sydney, dropped to her arm. “You’re hit!”
She pulled away from Logan. “It’s nothing.”
Slade followed behind him, rushing in just a few seconds later. His chest was heaving. “Shots...there were shots...”
She straightened her shoulders. “I think it’s safe to say that this location has been compromised.”
But Logan wasn’t saying that. Logan was staring at both Gunner and Slade, and she knew suspicion when she saw it.
Neither man was armed.
And Logan shouldn’t be suspicious of them.
Should he?
Where were they?
Her arm throbbed.
“We’re moving our departure up to now,” Logan snapped. “I’m calling in some favors and getting us the hell out of here.”
Gunner was glaring at her arm. Slade was breathing too hard, and a knot was forming in her stomach.
Because she wasn’t sure...why would a lone enemy follow them? Why just take shots at her and leave?
The attack almost felt...personal.
As her blood dripped onto the floor, Sydney realized that the danger from this mission was far, far from over.
* * *
FOUR WEEKS. FOUR weeks had passed since the team had come back to the United States.
Gunner stared down at the street below him. He was in D.C., at an office most wouldn’t ever know existed. He’d been called in, along with the rest of the Shadow Agents, for a briefing with the big boss himself, Bruce Mercer.
Four. Weeks.
Once they’d gotten back onto U.S. soil, Slade had been taken in by other EOD agents. He’d been sent to a hospital, examined, monitored.
And Sydney had been at his side.
His back teeth ground together.
Slade had insisted that Sydney come with him, even as his brother had yelled for Gunner to be investigated.
Locked up.
He’d tried to talk with Slade, over and over, but his brother wouldn’t answer his calls. His brother wouldn’t talk to him at all.
When he’d been six, he’d discovered that he had a little brother. A boy only two years younger than he’d been.
His father had never believed in commitment of any kind. Gunner’s parents hadn’t been married, and when his mother had contracted a deadly strain of pneumonia when he was a toddler, his father hadn’t been willing to keep his son.
So his father had gone to the doorstep of Gunner’s shinali, his Navajo grandfather, and he’d just...left Slade there. Gunner had been two years old.
For a long time, he’d thought that his father would come back.
Then he had come back.
But only long enough to drop off his second son.
“His mother died in childbirth. You know I can’t handle kids. Let him stay here, with Gunner. They’re family.”
Those words still whispered through Gunner’s mind, as if they’d been said just yesterday, instead of over twenty-seven years ago.
His grandfather had been an honorable man. He’d taken in the second child, and, blood or no blood, he’d loved Slade.
They’d become a family. Gunner’s father had signed away custody of both his boys. Then he’d just...vanished.
Gunner had always been glad to have a brother. I wasn’t alone then.
But as they grew older, his relationship with Slade had changed. Slade had pulled away from their grandfather. He’d seemed to resent the small house, the sparse lifestyle that they led.
He’d seemed to resent Gunner.
And he hates me now.
The door opened behind Gunner. He looked back, too fast, thinking it might be Sydney because he knew she’d been called into the office, too.
It wasn’t Sydney. Bruce Mercer stared back at him. The light glinted off Mercer’s bald head, and his eyes, a dark brown, studied Gunner.
Not much was known about Mercer, if that was even the guy’s real name. But the man was connected to nearly everyone in Washington, and he knew exactly where all the bodies were buried. Figuratively and literally.
“I’ve been told that I have to investigate you,” Mercer said as he crossed the room.
Gunner stiffened. “If that’s what you have to do.”
“The thing is I don’t like being told what to do.” Mercer lowered himself into the leather chair at the head of the conference table. “I especially don’t like being threatened.”
Who would have been dumb enough to threaten that guy?
“Slade Ortez has said that if you aren’t taken into custody, he’ll go to the media and expose the EOD.”
What. The. Hell? Slade knew that secrecy was the only way that the EOD could get their missions done. If any of the agents currently out on missions lost their covers, the results would be disastrous.
“He still knows names and faces from his time as a freelance agent.” Mercer’s eyes narrowed. “He gave all of that intel to his captors, you
know.”
Yeah, he knew.
“Now he’s ready to tell anyone in the media who will listen to his story.” Mercer shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. You understand, right? I’ll take any steps—do anything necessary—to protect my division.”
Even if I get locked up?
Mercer’s fingers drummed over the manila file that he’d brought into the room. “Sometimes we think that we know a person, but it turns out we really don’t.”
“Sir, I don’t understand.” Was Mercer saying he thought Gunner was guilty?
Mercer’s head cocked as he studied Gunner. His fingers kept drumming. “What do you value most in this world?”
Sydney. Her name whispered through his mind, but he didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Mercer nodded. “And just what would you be willing to do in order to protect what you value?”
Anything. Even let her go. Before he could answer, a knock sounded on the door.
Mercer held his gaze for a moment longer. Then he said, voice cool and calm, “Come in.”
Sydney came in first. Gunner tried to school his expression. He’d stayed away from her, tried to give her the space that she needed. She loved Slade, so that meant he was supposed to step aside, right?
Then why did it feel so damn wrong?
Logan followed her inside the office, with Cale right at his heels.
Gunner’s gaze, almost helplessly, drifted over Sydney. She looked too pale, and she seemed thinner.
His lips compressed.
“Glad you could all join me,” Mercer murmured, “because it seems that we have one very big problem on our hands.” His fingers had stilled over the manila file. “Just what are we going to do about Slade Ortez?”
“Do?” Sydney repeated as she crept toward the table. Since when did she creep any place? “What do you mean by that?” She waited a beat, then added, “Sir,” as if she realized she was coming across too hard.
One of Mercer’s dark brows rose. “You know he’s threatening to go to the media.”
“Every damn day,” Logan muttered, taking the seat closest to Mercer. “It’s getting harder to keep him in check. I thought his behavior would settle down the longer he was here, but that’s not happening.”
“We have to stop him.” Mercer motioned for the others to take their seats. When Cale sat near Logan, Gunner had no choice but to sit near Sydney. Her scent rose up, filling his nose. So sweet. That light vanilla that haunted him.
“Just what do you have in mind?” Cale asked cautiously.
Mercer pursed his lips, but instead of answering, he flipped open the manila file. “Have any of you heard about a drug called muerte?”
Death. Gunner leaned forward. He made sure not to touch Sydney. “It’s a black-market drug from South America.” He’d heard rumors about the drug for a few months.
“One that’s supposed to be highly addictive,” Logan added.
Mercer studied the papers before him. “Highly addictive, and very deadly to its users. It can cause increased aggression, paranoia and even hallucinations.” He glanced up at them, letting his gaze drift over the group. “The DEA believes that muerte first appeared in Peru, but now it’s being transferred all the way up the chain to Mexico.” He paused, then said “It hasn’t made its way to the U.S. yet.”
Gunner waited, knowing there was more to come. Mercer wouldn’t be telling them about the drug unless it related to the case. To Slade.
Increased aggression. Paranoia.
“We ran a tox screen on Slade Ortez shortly after he was brought back to the States.” The papers rustled in Mercer’s hands. “The screen showed that he had high levels of the drug in his system. More tests indicated that he’d been using for...quite some time.”
Gunner felt as if a fist had just slammed into his chest.
“You think...” Sydney’s voice was hesitant. “You think his captors made him take the drug?”
Mercer’s bald head tilted to the side. “They could have used it to keep him better controlled. Controlled prisoners are the easiest to handle,” he said, and Gunner knew the man was talking from dark experience. Then Mercer sighed. “The way the man is making these threats, the way he’s fighting every shrink I send to help him...I think the muerte is still affecting him.”
“Can it have an impact after so long?” Cale asked. “He’s been here for weeks.”
“Muerte is one of the most dangerous drugs that the DEA has seen.” Flat. “Its effects are far-reaching, and our government researchers think that some of the behavior changes can be permanent for the users.”
Gunner shook his head.
But Mercer wasn’t done. “Once a user’s on it, it’s nearly impossible to break free.”
“B-but he has been free,” Sydney said. Gunner saw her hands fist in her lap. “Slade’s been here for weeks, and he hasn’t used—”
“The shrinks say his behavior is becoming even more erratic. He needs help, the kind that he can’t get without the government’s help.” The lines around Mercer’s eyes deepened. “We have a special facility that we’re going to send him to—”
“You’re locking him up?” Sydney asked, voice rising.
“For his own safety.”
And for the good of the EOD. Gunner understood, without Mercer having to say the words.
“I want you to convince him to go into treatment willingly,” Mercer said as his attention focused on Sydney. “You’re the one he trusts. You tell him that we can help him.”
“Can you?” she fired right back.
“Maybe.” A brutal answer because of its honesty. “Or he may be so far gone that there is no pulling him back.”
Gunner wouldn’t flinch. His brother, the kid he’d promised his grandfather that he would protect...this was how he’d wound up? “Make him better,” Gunner growled. “Help him to heal.”
Mercer’s stare shifted to him. “If I can, I will.”
“And if you can’t?” Sydney pressed. “What then? You can’t just leave him in this—this treatment facility indefinitely—”
“If he doesn’t get better, we’ll explore the next step.”
What would the next step be? If the behavior changes were permanent, if there was no way to stop the aggression and the threats and the—
“He’s here now.” Mercer was back to looking at Sydney. “I had him brought in.”
Gunner knew that Mercer had actually been keeping a guard on Slade. Making sure that Slade didn’t carry through on his threats to speak to the media.
“I want you to go and talk to him. Get him to understand that we aren’t the enemy, Sydney.” Again, another flicker of the man’s gaze toward Gunner. “That none of us are his enemy.”
Sydney rose. “I want to see that file first.”
Mercer pushed it toward her. Her gaze scanned the reports, and Gunner heard her suck in a deep breath. “If he doesn’t get treatment?”
“According to my doctors, his behavior is just becoming worse. The paranoia and aggression have only increased while he’s been back in the U.S.” His lips tightened. “If he doesn’t get some serious intervention and treatment, he’ll become a danger to himself and others.”
If he wasn’t already. The way Mercer was talking, the guy already thought Slade was a threat.
“He needs your help,” Mercer said, his voice softening. “Are you going to leave him—”
Her head jerked up at that even as Gunner shot to his feet.
Low blow.
“Or will you help him?”
Sydney’s fingers were trembling as she pushed the file back toward Mercer. “I’ll help him.”
“Good.” Mercer had obviously gotten just the outcome that he’d wanted. “He’s one floor below us, second room on the right.”
She headed for the door.
“Convince him, Sydney,” Mercer ordered, the words heavy with an unmistakable command.
“I just want to save him,” she replied. Then she was gone. T
he door closed quietly behind her.
Mercer’s gaze swept over the agents in the room; then his stare rested on Gunner. “Make sure your brother understands the situation.”
Gunner gave a jerky nod even as he headed for the door.
Once he was away from them, his steps picked up and he hurried down the hall. Sydney was already gone on the elevator, so he took the stairs, three at a time, and he was standing in front of that elevator when the doors opened.
Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him.
Before she could speak, he caught her arm and pulled her toward him. He knew this floor well. He’d spent enough time at the EOD facility to know every inch of the place. He didn’t take her to Slade—he knew Slade was in the room with the guard stationed at the door.
Instead, he took her back and to the left. To the old conference room that would be empty.
“Gunner.” She started to dig in her heels. “I have to talk to him.”
“You’re talking to me first.” He pushed her inside the conference room and secured the door shut behind him.
Then he turned around and just...stared at her. She was pale, and he didn’t like that. There were a whole lot of things he didn’t like just now. “What are you going to do?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’m going to get Slade help. That’s what we’re both going to do.”
Through gritted teeth, he asked, “Are you still marrying him?”
Her eyes widened. “That’s what you want to know?”
“Are you?” Because if she was, he would back away. No, damn it, his brother was hurting. His captors had strung him out on their poison. He would back away, no matter what. “He’s the one who loves you.” Gunner forced the words out.
If possible, she seemed to become even paler. “And you don’t?”
His chest ached. “We had a good time, Sydney.” He didn’t let emotion slip into his voice. He couldn’t weaken. “But he’s the one you promised your forever to.”
She took a step back. “A...good time?” Her voice faltered. “That’s really all I was?”
No, she’d been everything, to him.
She still was everything to his brother. “Slade needs you,” he said.
“And I’ll be there for him. I’ll help him.” Her voice was tight. “I always planned to help him.”