by Adriana Noir
“The truth can be a scary thing sometimes, Josh.”
“I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation, and I’m not letting you drag me down with you. Do you hear me, Sebastian?”
“I need you. I can’t do this without you. You’re my partner. You’re all I have.”
“No, Baas. You’re not listening. Whatever you are doing, whatever it is you are thinking about doing, just fucking stop!”
The words hit him like a physical blow. They sucked the air from his lungs along with all traces of fight. A deep, wounded hurt replaced the shock and left him stunned.
“Get out,” he ordered quietly.
“Yeah, fine. My pleasure. Just do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me. I’m done trying to save you from yourself.”
He offered an emotionless smile in return. “You’ve already made your position quite clear. There is nothing left of me to save. Have a pleasant life, Agent Reevers. Shut the door on your way out.”
Sebastian ground his teeth as he watched Marx stroll the length of the conference room, his deep booming voice nothing more than an annoying drone that he desperately tried to block. Josh sat in stoic silence beside him, the tight clench of his jaw saying all that needed said. His partner was still angry. Scowling, Sebastian slumped lower into his chair and checked the clock. It had already been an hour and Marx showed no signs of shutting his yap anytime soon. To his left, Vincent tried to conceal a yawn behind his hand. The gesture drew the director’s undivided attention along with a blistering glare.
“Am I boring you, Agent Pellagreeni?” he asked, balling his massive fists and pressing them against the table. “Is my briefing putting you to sleep?”
“No, sir. It’s just been a long day. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t or you will be spending several long nights in a reconditioning cell. I need everyone’s head in the game, including yours, no matter how worthless it might be.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. Marx rose to the challenge.
“Is there something you would like to say, Agent Baas?”
“Other than the fact that I don’t appreciate you belittling my men for no reason?” he asked. “Not particularly.”
The commander straightened with a snort. “I see,” he stated. “We are back to you taking things on a personal level again. This isn’t about you, Sebastian. It’s about the lack of professionalism and respect on your team. A fact that has been brought to light in more ways than one as of late. Perhaps the problem isn’t with them after all. Maybe it lies with you.”
His shoulders jerked with a humorless laugh. Dropping his chin to his chest, Sebastian gave a rueful shake of his head. “If you say so.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Marx countered, “and I highly doubt you want it to come down to that. If you think the last two weeks you spent in lockdown was hell, keep trying me.”
He opened his mouth, but a sharp elbow prodded his side before he managed to voice his opinions on the matter. Furious, he swiveled in his chair and pinned Josh with a heated glare.
“Shut up, Baas. Just shut the fuck up before you land us all in a world of hurt.”
“Your partner is a wise man, Sebastian. You would do well to listen.”
Ignoring Marx’s taunt, he gave Josh a cold smile in response. “I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me.”
“Suit yourself, prick. Go back to holding private meetings with Vince. I’m done with you.”
Blinding rage threatened. Springing from his seat with enough speed and force to capsize it, he grabbed the back of Josh’s head and slammed him cheek first into the table. His partner gave a pained grunt when his fingers bit deeper into the corded muscles of his neck. The room around them exploded into action as several team members scrambled to break them apart.
“Who do you think you are, Josh?” Sebastian asked in a deceptively soft whisper. “Nobody speaks to me that way. Not even you,” he warned. “Before you decide to cross me again, take a good look at the empty chairs in this room. It doesn’t end well for those who try.”
“That is ENOUGH!” Marx bellowed.
Releasing the other man with a snarl, Sebastian backed away and smoothed the front of his uniform as his eyes locked with the director’s.
“This is company time, not a personal free-for-all. Baas…get your ass in the hall. You and I are going to have a private chat.”
He shot Josh one last look of disgust before backing toward the conference room doors. As if the day hadn’t been bad enough, everyone around him seemed intent to add insult to injury. Ignoring the pain in his hands, he flung the door open then slammed it shut in his wake. Marx followed shortly behind, his face dark with displeasure and the lingering effects of anger. His deep, black eyes narrowed with scrutiny before he tilted his head, indicating toward the corridor housing the holding cells.
Sebastian’s stomach sank, but he fell into stride beside their commander. They were halfway down the hallway before Marx spoke again.
“It’s come to my attention that you put in a vacation request the other day.”
He bit his tongue to keep from losing his fragile hold on his temper. Choosing to play it safe, Sebastian offered a mute nod and wondered where this interrogation was going to lead. His chest tightened as the director paused outside of Irene’s cell. He had no desire to revisit that hellhole again.
“Hand over your weapon.”
His head whipped to the side in time to see the man indicate toward the guards stationed outside the room with an impatient flick of his wrist. His stomach cramped and an ice-cold trickle of dread crawled through his veins. This wasn’t good. He briefly considered resisting, but with three of them and Marx all but breathing down the side of his neck, those efforts wouldn’t end well. Pulling his pistol free, he reluctantly handed it over.
“Knife too, Sebastian. We know how much you like to play with those things,” Marx quipped, a snide smile curving his lips.
He clenched his teeth, but given no other choice, he obliged. Stepping to the side, the director pulled the door open and gestured him inside. Irene promptly scuttled across the floor to greet them. Crouching near Marx’s feet, she pressed a worshiping kiss to the side of his leg. The gesture earned her a hard pat to the cheek.
“Very good,” he praised. “Now say hello to Agent Baas.”
He took an involuntary step back when she prowled closer, inching across the cement floor on her hands and knees. His stomach clenched, his breakfast rising when she reared up and reached for his belt buckle with filthy hands.
“That won’t be necessary,” he assured her, his stare swinging to Marx in disbelief.
“That’s right. I forgot. Sebastian has a pet of his own to keep him sated. A rare commodity for my men these days. I believe you know her well, don’t you Irene?” he asked, leaning down to grab the front of her throat. The nails of his blunt fingertips paled beneath the press. “Maybe someday, the two of you can visit. Would you like that? Do you miss socializing and seeing your friends?”
Her eyes were blank and devoid of life as she nodded mutely above the broad clench of his hand. Marx’s smile lacked humor or appreciation. Releasing her neck, he ran a palm over the coppertop’s tangled hair.
“Back to business. I’m curious as to why you put in this vacation request.”
Sebastian released the breath he’d been holding. He wished he didn’t have to endure the agony of inhaling again. How Marx managed to suffer through it, let alone enjoy himself in those conditions, was beyond his capability to understand.
“After seven years and little more than a few days off, I would say I more than have the time coming,” he stated flatly.
“Perhaps,” his boss speculated, “but you’ve never been interested in stepping away from work before. Why Hawaii? I would think it beneath a man with your tastes to stay stateside rather than travel the world.”
Marx laughed, though it lacked any real mirth. The deep, thundering sound made Irene flinch. “I highly doubt that. Next I suppose you will tell me this little endeavor has nothing to do with that whore you keep.”
He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The insults to Taylor and her character rubbed him raw. He had visions of cutting the man’s throat, of making him eat those words, but one look at Irene reminded him of what could happen if he reacted and helped keep his retaliation at bay. As did his lack of weapons. He cocked his head. Deep down, he supposed the time and effort it would take to snap the man’s neck would be somewhat gratifying. Not as much as making him suffer, but the outcome would certainly be worth the concession.
Marx nodded. The movement ripped him from his daydream.
“I thought as much. I’ll let you enjoy your getaway, Agent Baas, as long as one thing remains clear. This is not some honeymoon romp. I’ve let you play with your toy, but you’ve taken this game as far as it’s going to go.”
“Meaning?” he asked, folding his arms to keep his fists contained.
“Meaning you won’t be exchanging any rings. This train has hit its last station, and if you try to take it any farther, I promise you it and everything around you will derail. Is that clear?”
“With all due respect, what makes you think somebody’s marital status is your call?”
The commander moved a step closer. “What makes you think it isn’t?” The mammoth lines of his physique undulated against his uniform, making the fabric stretched across his chest ripple like oil. “I’ve had men take that path before and it’s never ended well. Your sister is a prime example of that. While you might not agree that I have the authority to make such decisions, I most certainly have the power and the means to back them up. That, alone, is enough to make it my call.”
Blackened silence hung between them. He’d never hated anyone as intensely as he hated this man. He’d never wanted to drench himself in someone else’s blood, or to physically rip their heart out and hold it in his fist as it stuttered through its last dying pumps. But he wanted that now. He wanted it so bad he could taste it.
His gaze flickered to Irene. She remained crouched on the floor, watching the exchange with fearful eyes. They met with his, and something inside those dismal depths pleaded, begging for mercy or death. It was a reprieve he couldn’t give. Sadly, some small part of him wished he could. She’d been through enough. Despite his hatred for her and the complications her actions had caused, nothing she’d done had warranted this level of prolonged suffering and cruelty.
He should have spared them both the torture and put a bullet in the twit’s brain the night she grabbed his dick. It would have been a much quicker and kinder release. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the troublesome thoughts and focus on the problem at hand.
“I see you are reluctant to offer a response,” Marx stated, his tone callous and crisp. “That is fine, but remember this,” he said gesturing to the woman cringing at his feet. “Marry that girl and your new bride will be taking Irene’s place. I would tread carefully if I were you. Given your disposition and performance lately, she is perilously close to occupying that position as it is.”
His head snapped up and his voice dropped to a menacing rasp. “What did you just say?”
Marx smirked and resumed stroking the top of Irene’s head. “You heard me. My pet would like a playmate to help her pass the time. Not to mention the pressure it would relieve. She’s had a rough go of things lately trying to liven up the ranks.”
Sebastian’s glare narrowed even more until his eyes became mere seething slits. The bastard was beyond sick. There wasn’t even a word capable of describing Marx’s level of depravity. The mere thought of him touching Taylor was enough to send him into a murderous tailspin. Clenching his teeth, he stepped forward until the two of them stood nose-to-nose.
“That will never happen,” he growled. “You will never touch her. I swear to God, Marx, I will kill you first.”
Marx took another step forward. Undaunted, Sebastian held his ground. Their eyes locked, green clashing with brown. Though unspoken, the war between them was fully declared.
The commander smirked. “God doesn’t listen to men like us. I’m starting to think that girl has a golden cunt. Keep defying me, Sebastian. Raise your arms against me one more time. I dare you. It would give me great pleasure to see what all the fuss is about.”
Hatred incinerated him from the inside out. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had to keep from lunging for the bastard’s throat or beating him to death with his fists. They locked at his sides. The short crescents of his nails gouged deep into the palms of his hands. If he moved, if he so much as breathed wrong, Marx would end this thing here and now. He might have the satisfaction of killing the prick, but the guards would see to it that he never left the room again. He would die here, tapped in this cell with Irene. His team was already fractured. Some of them might come to his aid, but God only knew what the rest of them would do to Monique or Taylor. He couldn’t take that risk.
His entire body shook as he attempted to leash his rage. Someday soon, his revenge would come. He would have an outlet for every ounce of anger, frustration, and pain this asshole had made him feel—and when that day came, Marx was going to pay in spades. He was going to suffer long and hard. He would beg for death. The bastard’s screams would be a song he would relish for years. He would see to that.
Still, he wasn’t going to take the threats lying down. They both knew where they stood, and he refused to let Marx gain more traction.
Easing back a mere inch, he let his trademark smile fall into play. “Say what you want, but if you touch my family again, if you so much as breathe their way, it will be the last fucking thing you do. That’s not a threat, Marx. It’s a promise.”
The commander took a step back as well and returned his cruel smile. “This is the very last warning you are ever going to get. As I said, the choice is yours. I made my move, Sebastian. Now it’s your turn to decide how we play.”
CHAPTER 12 ~
Taylor followed Sebastian through the darkened shadows of their home. He hadn’t said much since dinner, and his stoic expression lent little insight into his thoughts. She frowned, searching her mind for a way to relieve the tension and silence brewing between them. He’d shut down the moment he’d finished telling her about the shootings and his subsequent blowup with Josh. The divide between the four of them had never felt more painstakingly clear. Everything lately boiled down to him choosing and taking a side. His work, his personal life. Nothing was left untouched, untainted by the heavy pall Marx and SKALS cast over their lives. She knew shutting down and sealing himself off from his emotions was just Sebastian’s way of defending himself and protecting her, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Despite his efforts to hide it, she could tell something else was bothering him. Something dark and troubling that he was beyond reluctant to share. Keeping her head down, she prayed for a way to ease the heartache and troubles plaguing his mind.
He paused at the refrigerator long enough to grab a bottle of water, but he didn’t drink it. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers and led her silently up the stairs. Once inside their bedroom, he rested his head against the solid wooden doors for a moment before turning his attention to her. She hated the apprehension and uncertainty etched on his handsome face. Hated the way she knew without catching sight of her reflection that that taut and haunted reflection only mirrored her own.
“Seb…”
Sighing, he shook his head. “Don’t, Taylor. I know what you’re going to say, but there’s nothing you can do,” he said, working the buttons on his shirt free. His attention remained locked on the task at hand. “It’s Josh’s call. He’s only doing what he thinks is best for himself and his fami
ly. I don’t fault him for that, and it hurts to lose him, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you and our child safe.”
“I know, Sebby. I just can’t help wondering if things would be different if he knew the whole story.”
“I tried to tell him, Taylor. He didn’t want to listen.”
“You really don’t think you can trust him?”
“I trust him not to stick a knife in my back, but that’s as far as it goes. It doesn’t matter. Partner or not, I refuse to place your safety in someone else’s hands. I do enough of that as it is. I worry about you constantly. I have no idea if you are okay or what is happening when I’m at work. I hate to say this, but we need to distance ourselves from them anyway. I can’t risk Marx finding out about the baby. The thought of me getting married was enough to put him into a tailspin. I can’t imagine his reaction if he found out I was going to have a kid.”
“Do you really think Josh would tell him?”
Sebastian lowered his head with a sad shake as he tugged his holster strap free. “I don’t know.”
Crossing the room, she approached him. She trailed her hands over the outside of his arms, marveling at the hard knots and valleys stretched beneath. Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across the back of his shoulders. His head fell forward in acceptance and a quiet groan of pleasure rose from his throat. Smiling against him, Taylor dug her thumbs into the taut muscles and worked the dense knots gathered under the surface until Sebastian whirled on her without warning. Menace and brooding desire swam in the sage pools of his eyes.
“Don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish, sweetheart. I’m in a mood and there’s no telling what I might do,” he murmured, tracing a finger over the delicate ridge of her collarbone.
“I was just trying to help you relax,” she argued, kissing the bandages wrapped around his hand. She hated that he was injured, hated that he’d almost died, and hated the turmoil wreaking havoc on their lives. Some of her angst faded seeing the slow smile easing across Sebastian’s face. Bit by bit, it showcased the deep dimples she had come to know and crave.