Mayhem’s King: Operation Mayhem

by Cross, Lindsay

  Cowardly she avoided the man’s gaze. Then she finally got up the nerve to answer, “Yes. He blew up my house.”

  “He?” He pinned her with a dark stare.

  Laura felt a tremble and pinned Faith to her side. “Him.” She pointed at King.

  Melissa rushed past them, going to her knees on the floor beside him. “We need to get him to the clinic downstairs. Now.”

  One of the men bent to pick him up, but the tall man spoke again, and all actions ceased. “We’re not going anywhere until she explains.”

  Laura shot a pleading look to Diggs, the only other person in the room she could even remotely claim to know slightly. He coughed, put his fist over his mouth and put his arm around the red head. “Um, Reaper, it wasn’t King, exactly.”

  Thankfully the man turned his attention to Diggs. “Who then?”

  Diggs planted his feet shoulder-width apart and straightened his spine as if preparing for battle. “John Dawson.”

  There was an audible gasp, and then a silent pall fell over the room with all the subtleness of an atomic bomb.

  Reaper shifted about an inch to the right and Laura took one giant step backward, tugging Faith with her. The air of menace surrounding the man couldn’t be denied. And his scarred visage, head to toe armed and clad in black getup, didn’t help the matter all. “He went looking for Dawson?”

  Oh geez. Reaper’s voice had dropped, much like her father’s had when he’d caught her stealing a package of grape Kool-Aid from the grocery store when she was seven. She’d learned right then and there that yelling was much better.

  And from the way Diggs was clenching and unclenching his fists behind his back, she got the distinct feeling he was just as uncomfortable. “Not John Dawson, exactly.”

  Reaper’s shoulders rose. “If you say exactly one more time…”

  Diggs cast her a pained expression and Laura sent up a silent prayer that he wasn’t about to throw her under the bus. Then he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing straight down his throat. “It was my fault.”

  Watching Diggs fall on his sword for her was more painful than she’d anticipated. The words gargled up from her gut, and blasted past her lips before she could pull them back. “He was looking for me.”

  How in the hell had her voice come out so strong when she was so terrified she was about to pee in her pants?

  Faith squirmed beneath her and Laura realized she’d been clenching the child’s shoulders in her worry. She released her white-knuckled grip while maintaining a firm hold.

  Reaper turned his full attention back to her and she sent up a silent prayer that the floor would simply open up and swallow her whole.

  “And you are?”

  It was her turn to swallow, only her throat simply stopped working so she ended up coughing and embarrassing herself in front of everyone. When she finally sucked in enough air to make her lungs work, she said, “Laura Dawson.”

  Chapter 7

  King eased back to consciousness, his eyes so heavy they might as well have had lead tied to them. His ears filled with the sound of buzzing fluorescent lights and beeping monitors. The sterile cold blast of air like the hospital. “Hope…”

  The explosion. The weakness. Trinity.

  His heart seemed to expand in his chest, contract and then hyperactivate on adrenaline. King shoved with all his might to sit up, forcing his eyes open. He didn’t even make it vertical before a rough hand shoved him flat again. “Stay down.”

  Before he could think, King’s hand shot up and shackled Reaper’s wrist, attempting to shove him away. Searing pain snaked across his chest. King dropped his hand beside him and licked his lips. “What happened?”

  “Who is Hope?” Reaper countered.

  King turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, trying to remember how he’d ended up here, but a thick fog settled over his mind.

  But not so thick he was going to reveal all the dark secrets of his past to his team leader. When he joined Team Mayhem, it had been well after the event that had changed his life. No one on his team knew of his past, and that’s exactly the way he planned to keep it.

  King drew in a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, commanding his bodily functions into some semblance of control. With cold calculation that only years and years of training could instill, King forced his focus on his memory. “Dawson.”

  The loud creak of shifting plastic filled the room and King turned to see Reaper settling back in a chair beside his bed. Monitors, sterile white sheets and equally sterile metal countertops surrounded him. He was in the mock hospital they’d set up in the basement of the compound.

  “Care to explain how you ended up with John Dawson’s sister and her child in our compound?”

  King closed his eyes again. Explaining to his team leader how he’d ignored his command and gone after their rogue teammate without permission wasn’t something he looked forward to. “I had a lead and decided to pursue it.”

  “Without my knowledge or permission.” That was a statement, not a question.

  “It was time sensitive,” King replied, tilting his chin down to assess the damage. His torso was wrapped in bright whites—from beneath his armpits down to his navel. Various new scratches and stitches dotted his arms. He moved his legs beneath the sheet, feeling the pull of strained muscles and even a couple more new stitches on his thighs.

  Reaper leaned forward, balancing his thick elbows on his knees. “Explain. Now.”

  “I decided to go have a talk with his sister, see if she’d seen him,” King began.

  Reaper cut him off in a flash. “You mean you decided to spy on his sister to see if he would show up so you could kill him for revenge.”

  Reaper’s intimidating tone would make anyone else stressed, but King wasn’t worried. He didn’t fear his team leader like everyone else; he’d have to be afraid of dying for that to be an issue. However, Reaper had been through some seriously tough shit and come out sane—and for that he had King’s respect.

  “Yes. I was hoping he would show up.”

  “I get it,” Reaper said quietly.

  King stared at him in shock. That had been the last thing he’d expected his team leader to say. “Come again?”

  “He blinded you and nearly killed you, you have every right to want revenge.” Reaper paused, bridged his fingers beneath his chin, and rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “But you didn’t have permission to go rogue. Especially against one of our own.”

  King’s heart hammered hard in his chest, and the pulse monitor next to the bed kicked up a notch. “He stopped being one of our own when he held a gun point blank to my face. He stopped being one of our own when he tried to assassinate our team.”

  “Do you really think John Dawson would try to kill us? The man that saved our lives on more than one occasion?” Reaper blurted out.

  His pulse beat even faster on the monitor. “No, I don’t think the Dawson we knew before Project Mayhem would harm any of us. In fact, he’d lay down his life for each and every one of us. But that isn’t John Dawson. Not anymore.” King had gotten up close and personally looked into the man’s eyes. There was nothing there. Nothing but mindless, seething rage. He was a beast out of control and bent on destruction.

  “If you’ll remember, none of us were the same after we escaped that lab.”

  King carefully sat up, curling his waist so as not to stretch his wounds and tear them open. It took more effort than he would’ve liked to prop himself up by his arms and face his leader. “Yeah, but we also didn’t go on a killing spree.”

  Reaper stopped stroking his chin. His stark black gaze pinned King. “Didn’t we?” he said quietly.

  King clamped his jaw tight. “We didn’t have any control over that.” General Rainier, the traitorous bastard that had started the experiment had implanted some kind of mind control device in their brain stems. He’d used them as test subjects, lab rats to see if he could turn a group of men who’d dedicated their lives to fighting ev
il into monsters.

  “And you think Dawson has control now?”

  King eased his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the prickly chills that had formed on the back of his neck. They’d all tried to block out the day when they’d been forced to kill, but none of them could. Although they had had no control of their bodies, their minds had been fully functioning. Each and every one of them lived with the stain of blood on their hands.

  But that had been in the lab, and they’d been specifically triggered. Dawson had attacked them on his own. “Maybe he doesn’t have control, I don’t care. He’s not going to get it back. You didn’t see him like I did.”

  Reaper shot to his feet, toppling the tiny plastic chair behind him. “I was there that night. He shot at me too, remember?”

  King jumped to the floor and planted his feet, his blood pounding in his veins. “Did he do this to you?” King jammed a finger in the direction of his blind eye, thankfully feeling the weight of the eye patch that never left his skin.

  Reaper got toe to toe with him, so close King could feel his breath on his face. “He could have killed you.” Reaper paused and then said, “But he didn’t.”

  King curled his hands into thick tight fists at his sides. “He damn sure tried.”

  The door burst open. Melissa flew into the room, her long brown hair swinging around her shoulders. “What are you doing? The monitor alarms are going off like crazy. King, sit down now.”

  King didn’t budge, all his attention was focused on Reaper. How could he think that Dawson hadn’t intended every single injury he inflicted that night?

  Diggs wanted to give Dawson a second chance. Reaper wanted to give the murderer a second chance. Hell, the whole goddamn team wanted to give the man a second chance. Maybe they’d all been brainwashed. Whatever the reason, King wasn’t going to give the bastard a free ticket on doubt. He knew Dawson was lost. Gone. Checked out. Whatever the hell they’d done to him since he’d been gone, it’d fried the bastard’s brain. In no way was King going to sit back and watch and wait for Dawson to do more damage.

  He’d hunt him down, and put a bullet in his head.

  No. He wouldn’t hunt him down. He had the bait. He had Dawson’s sister and niece. All he had to do was wait for the man to show up at his front door.

  “Damn it, King, moving ripped open your wounds. Lay down before you bleed out again.” Melissa none to gently inserted herself between the two men, grabbed King’s forearms and tugged him down. With an inward smile King let her, welcoming the distraction. He had no intention of giving in to Reaper, not now. He’d wait until the end and ask for forgiveness later. After Dawson was dead.

  As if reading his mind Reaper lifted a finger, “I order you not to go after Dawson without my permission.”

  King let the cold smile slide across his lips. “You have my word. I won’t go after Dawson.” But I’ll damn sure make sure he comes after me.

  Reaper watched him, but held his silence. He wasn’t stupid; King knew that although Reaper might not know his exact plan, he’d keep a close eye on him. And Laura.

  That thought had him straightening up again. “Where’s the woman and the girl?”

  Melissa pressed him backward onto the too-small bed and began cutting through the freshly blood-soaked bandages across his chest. “Upstairs. We decided to put them in the room next to yours until we figured out what else we can do.”

  Perfect. That’s exactly where he wanted them. “Thanks.”

  “I’m going to check on Caroline. We’re holding a meeting at oh nine hundred. Be there.” With that, Reaper stormed out of the room.

  The door hissed shut behind him, the air cushions keeping it from slamming.

  Melissa blew out a breath, her hair standing in the air in front of her face. “He’s mad.”

  King directed his attention to the ceiling overhead. “He’ll get over it.”

  “King—” Melissa began hesitantly. She’d been with the team long enough now King knew that she was fixing to start a lecture, and he’d already had enough of those for tonight.

  “Did you check on them? Laura and Faith? Are they okay?”

  He was almost 100 percent positive neither of the girls had been injured in the blast, but he’d been so out of it from blood loss on the way home it’d been all he could do to remain conscious in the truck.

  She sighed and finished cutting through the bandages. “Yes, Faith scared us a little, but they’re both fine.”

  King shot her an inquisitive look, lifting his shoulders off the bed so that she could pull the strips of material for replacement. “How so?”

  Melissa strode across the room and looked through some cabinets, quickly extracting a couple of new rolls of bandages. “Apparently when you fainted, she thought it was a game and decided to do the same thing.”

  King grunted. “I didn’t faint.”

  “Fine, passed out from blood loss.” Melissa put the bandages on a small rolling table, grabbed some fresh shears and tape and a bottle of disinfectant. “Now, I can’t promise this is going to feel good; you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  She grabbed up a jar of cotton balls, stabbed them in disinfectant and quickly blotted them across the freshly open wounds on his chest. “Since you didn’t care when you ripped open your cuts, you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  King hissed in a breath at the pain searing the raw wounds. “Barely felt it.”

  Melissa focused her attention on the bandage and his chest and King let his mind drift back to Laura. The instant awareness he’d felt for her had shocked him, and he had been prepared. He must’ve been so distracted thinking about his mission…But he wouldn’t be distracted again.

  Laura was a means to an end, a very bloody end. And once he had her brother, he wouldn’t think of her again.

  Chapter 8

  “I’m hungry,” Faith signed for the tenth time in the past hour.

  Laura fought the rising tide of frustration threatening to push the bounds of pretentious and plastered a smile on her face when inside she seethed with anger. They stuck them in this room hours ago, basically forgetting them. Did no one in this place realize she had a child to take care of? A hungry, tired and dirty child who needed to eat, take a bath, and go to sleep before she threw a tantrum.

  But as the minutes turned to hours, Laura realized they’d been forgotten in the melee that ended downstairs after rushing King off to whatever hospital they had in this mansion. No—not mansion as she’d come to realize—secure compound where prisoners could be kept for an indeterminate amount of time against their will.

  “Laura?” Faith held up her hand in front of her face and Laura realized she’d zoned out into her own thoughts. She captured Faith’s hand in hers and pressed a quick gentle kiss on her fingers before releasing them. “I’m sure it will be just a little bit longer.”

  Although she knew it was useless, Laura rose from her perch on the massive four-poster king-size bed in an equally massive and regal room and crossed to the door, trying the knob for the fifth time. And just like it had been 30 minutes ago it remained locked. Without thinking she kicked the door, bruising her toe in the process. As if on cue the doorknob rattled, followed by the distinct sound of a lock turning.

  She hurried back to the bed, placing herself between Faith and whoever was coming to the door.

  Silently she prayed it wasn’t Reaper. The man scared her to death. She’d rather deal with anyone but him.

  The door swung open, and King, shirtless, filled up the doorway. Her mouth went dry. With a shirt on he’d been striking. With half his bare torso peeping out over tightly wound bandages around his chest, he was breathtaking.

  Laura dropped her face into her hand, scrubbing it down her cheeks as she attempted to knock some semblance of sanity back into her mind. She was not attracted to her kidnapper. Not. Attracted.

  While she stood there trying to get her mouth to work and say something, King just stared, his mas
sive frame filling up the doorway. Her mind frizzled.

  Seconds passed. Neither of them spoke. Was he just going to stand there all day staring at them? Why wasn’t he saying something?

  Why wasn’t she saying something?

  The silence stretched out to the point of breaking and Laura blurted out, “Are we allowed to eat in our prison? Faith is starving.” As if managing to get those few words past her lips, the dam that had held her silence broke open. “We’ve been locked in here for hours without anyone telling us what’s going on. And I’ve got a hungry and tired child to take care of. What are you going to do about it?”

  Laura crossed her arms angrily across her chest.

  King glanced from her to Faith and then back to Laura. Instead of talking he crossed the threshold into the room and quietly turned and shut the door behind him.

  More impatient and alarmed, she demanded again, “What do you want with us?”

  He faced her and leaned against the closed door, watching her just as intently as he had before. It was all she could do not to squirm in her shoes.

  “I owe you an explanation.”

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. She’d expected him to order her around, storm out and lock the door, but not this. “You do?”

  “Yes,” King pushed off from the doorframe but instead of advancing toward her, he paced over to the large locked window facing the sunset. The warm light illuminated his sculpted shoulders from behind. “But I’d like to talk to you alone, not in front of the kid.”

  Laura managed to drag her eyes off of him and turned to see Faith bouncing on the massive bed like it was her own personal trampoline. Kitty flopping up and down with her, in serious jeopardy of losing an arm. “How about you let me feed her and bathe her and then put her to bed?”

  She thought that sounded reasonable enough, considering the fact they were being held against their will.

  Her initial fear that King and Diggs were some type of villainous mad men had been already put at ease by hearing the team’s conversation downstairs about her brother. She already had no doubt that they’d known him. What she did have doubts about was if they’d been teammates and what they thought of him now.