She shifted the now sleeping Ryker off her lap and placed him on the cot. The thing had to be an asthmatics worse nightmare, but Ryker needed rest, even if only for a few moments.
Determined to get some answers from Keith, she stood, smoothing a hand across Ryker’s forehead one last time before crossing the concrete floor on unsteady legs.
Keith’s gaze followed her, his jaw tightened and his spine stiffened. “I’m just a man—a soldier—doing my job, Grace.” His husky voice lowered. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”
She drew in front of him and studied the shadows of worry beneath his eyes. Just doing his job? No, she didn’t believe him. But how would he know? She’d spent the last week doubting him, doubting his every move, and making sure he knew it.
“I...” She reached out to touch him, but his hand came up and captured hers midway. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For misjudging you.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “You didn’t misjudge me, Gracie. You had me pegged right from the—”
“Stop it!” Her sharp words crackled in her dry throat. “I’m trying to tell you—”
He yanked her to him, pressed his lips to hers and silenced the rest of her words. Heat spiraled through her at the possessive kiss. He dropped her hand to slide his fingers along her jaw and up to her hair. She closed her eyes, fisted her hands in his t-shirt and his muscles tightened against her palms.
She put everything into that kiss, showing him with passion what he wouldn’t allow her to say with words. Before now, she wouldn’t have thought it possible for people to change. Once reckless and self-serving, always reckless and self-serving. But this Keith...this man he’d become...he’d showed her strength. He’d showed her honor and gentleness. Her heart burst into tiny pieces as he parted her lips and explored her mouth with his tongue with a poignant tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.
He made her want. She, who hadn’t wanted in far too long.
Her hands trailed up his chest to lock around his neck. She angled her head and Keith’s mouth slid to her jaw where he proceeded to trail soft kisses down her neck to the hollow of her collarbone. She arched her back.
“What was that?” Keith’s sharp whisper and the absence of his mouth on her skin made her flinch.
She shook her head. “I didn’t hear—”
But then she did. Something scraped outside the door. Metal on metal. “Key?” she mouthed.
He gave her a gentle push, not that she needed it. She was already sprinting over to the cot, ready to protect Ryker from whoever stood behind the door.
Keith crouched low and rushed the entry as the door squeaked open on its rusty hinges. Two men entered the room, pistols raised. Grace recognized the one she and Keith had dubbed “Shorty”. The other one, however, she hadn’t seen before.
He looked remarkably like Tom Cruise with a feral gleam in his blue eyes. He pushed past Shorty and swung the pistol in a downward arc.
“Keith! Watch—” Her warning strangled in her throat.
“Tom’s” pistol slammed across Keith’s nose. He stumbled, his knees buckled, dragging him to the ground.
Over the high pitched, terror stricken sound of her own scream, she heard Ryker’s soft, trembling voice behind her.
“Mommy?”
She dropped onto the cot, gathered him in her arms, and pressed his face to her chest. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
But it wasn’t okay. Her heart thumped with a furious frenzy in her chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She felt it in the sickening heat that rushed through her and churned nausea in her stomach.
Blood trickled from Keith’s nose. His eyes, clouded and turbulent, ensnared hers as he reclaimed his feet.
“Oh, God, Keith.” She covered her mouth, fighting the fluid that rushed up her throat. “What’s going on?”
The Tom Cruise look-alike swung the barrel of his pistol at her. “Shut up. All of you, shut up.”
He angled the pistol to Ryker, who continued to whimper into her chest. “What’s he doing in here?” His eyes narrowed on the gaping hole in the splintered door along the wall. “The boss isn’t going to be happy about this.”
“We’ve got a bigger problem to take care of first.” Shorty stepped in front of Tom and speared her with a look that turned Grace’s blood to ice. “Where is it?”
She sucked in a breath and tightened her hold on her son. Her hands shook. Clenching them into fists didn’t help. “Where is what?”
Shorty stepped forward, his arm raised. “The real flash drive.”
“What do you mean? You have it. You took it.”
Her eyes strayed from Shorty to Keith, his body coiled tight from head to toe while the other man held him at gunpoint. A slow swallow slid down his throat and then he turned to capture her with hazel eyes clouded with remorse.
“He has it, doesn’t he?” She didn’t need to see the barely perceptible shake of Keith’s head to know, in her heart, that wasn’t the case.
“Oh, we have the drive. Even the codes. Only problem is they can’t be read because someone put a man-eating virus on the drive that ensured they’d corrupt the moment they were opened. But, you know all this, so why am I wasting my time? Cut the bullshit and cough up the codes.”
He stepped forward and pressed his own pistol to her temple. The cold metal cut into her flesh and shivers skittered through her, but her thoughts weren’t on her own imminent death. She had to keep Ryker safe at all costs.
“Mommy?” Ryker tugged on her shirt, his head lifted.
“Don’t move, baby.” She hunched her shoulders, wrapped her arms around him as best she could and guided his head back down. She tried to measure her words, to keep them smooth and comforting, but they came out strangled instead.
Then she hardened her voice and locked eyes with Shorty. For Ryker’s sake, she wasn’t going down without a fight. He needed her strength, not her terror. “It’s not our fault if those codes went bad. We delivered the information as promised.”
“Went bad? Like sour milk?” He snorted. The pistol pressed deeper into her skin. “Nice try. Those codes were deliberately corrupted. Weren’t they, King?”
Her eyes stung and her stomach churned up a tidal wave, but the sick feeling was nothing compared to the slice to her heart over Shorty’s words.
“Is that true?” The words flew from her mouth, unwanted.
Did she really need to ask? She’d seen it in his eyes, in the tightness of his jaw and his rigid stance.
He’d betrayed her. Betrayed Ryker.
Same old Keith. Had she really, deep in her heart, believed him changed? Yeah. He’d blinded her with his kind words and his strength. What she’d perceived as loyalty and honorability had been nothing more than an agenda. He’d been doing his job, just as he’d said.
“Why?” The single word choked in her throat like a bitter pill.
His hand stretched toward her, but when he would’ve gone to her, he stopped and flicked a glance at his captor’s pistol, before his gaze came back to plead with her. “I had to.”
What if the corrupted files had been discovered before he’d found Ryker? What if these same men had marched next door and killed her son instead of barging in here? Keith had risked her son’s life over a bunch of security codes.
“I trusted you.” She could no longer keep the tears at bay. They slid down her cheeks, heating her skin and blurring her vision. “Why did I let myself trust you?”
“Grace—”
“No, don’t—”
Shorty struck her. Pain sliced across the wetness on her cheek and her head snapped back. He reached past her grip on Ryker, grabbed a hold and ripped him off her lap. Her frantic hands grasped for her son, latched onto the hem of his shirt and squeezed in an effort to keep him with her.
“Let him go! He’s just a boy!” The cotton slithered through her fingers. “No.” Thickness gathered in her thr
oat, new, frantic tears burned her eyes. “Don’t take him. I’ll do anything. Please.”
“Don’t hurt the kid.” Keith’s command rippled across the tension that hung in the room.
He sprung to the side and his booted foot connected with Tom’s kneecap. The man hit the ground and his pistol skidded across the floor.
The hem broke away from the rest of Ryker’s shirt and Grace lost the last thread of her hold on her son. “No!”
Keith stopped mid-lunge for the pistol, turned and froze, his arms raised in a gesture of surrender.
Shorty dragged Ryker backwards a few feet. “This is all very touching, but if you don’t deliver the uncorrupted codes now I’m going to be forced to pull the trigger.”
Over her dead body. She leapt to her feet and lunged for Ryker. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you with my bare hands if you so much as harm one hair on his head.”
With each word, she shredded at Shorty’s hold on Ryker. She kicked at the man’s knees, his legs, desperate to get him to loosen his hold on her son. He swung his pistol in her face.
Shorty wrapped his arm around Ryker’s throat. “You’re coming with me, kid.”
Ryker’s glasses clattered to the floor, his lips trembled, his eyes overflowed with massive tears. “Mom.”
His one word whispered plea spiked her heart into overdrive. “Oh, God, you bastard. Just let him go.” She lifted her chin and stared deep into the black abyss of the gun’s barrel. “You’ll have to kill me first, before I let you leave this room with him.”
“Oh, come on, what do you want with the kid?” Keith’s hardened voice pierced her tough armor.
They couldn’t take Ryker. Not her baby. Not again. Her hands started to shake and she curled them into tight fists as she turned her head just enough to put Keith into view.
The Tom Cruise look alike recovered to pull the gun on Keith once more. Keith’s stance radiated disinterest; only the muscle in his jaw indicated his tension. “He can’t get you what you want. He’s useless to you.”
Tom’s feral eyes narrowed on Keith and uttered a single sharp word that sent a rush of cold down her spine. “Leverage.”
Her knees buckled. “No. You can’t...” Her legs wobbled. She wouldn’t crumble. Couldn’t lose it. Ryker needed her.
She fixed her tear-blurred vision on Ryker and blinked away the wetness to reveal the clarity of her son’s own terror stricken face. Heat burned through her veins, anger and strength wove around her like a windstorm and gathered to tornado force. She struck out at Shorty again, tightened her fist and nailed him right in the nose.
Shocked, Shorty loosened his hold on Ryker long enough for Grace to yank him behind her. But the victory was short lived.
Shorty snagged her hair and gave it a vicious tug. “You bitch.” He spat, blood from his nose joined the saliva that dribbled on the cement. “I should just blow a hole through you and the kid right now. Forget the codes. You’ve caused me too much grief as it is. I’m not getting paid nearly enough for this gig.”
“Don’t hurt my mom!” Ryker’s scream throbbed with protective fear and he lashed out with his fists.
“Ryker, no! What are you doing?”
Shorty wrenched on her hair. Spots flashed in front of her vision, her head snapped back and she met Keith’s eyes that burned with quiet fury.
Tom grabbed Ryker and squeezed his fist in a punishing grip. Sobs wracked his small frame. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” spilled from his lips in a frantic chant.
“Please.” She smashed her lips together to keep from crying out.
“Enough!” Keith’s rough command echoed in the small room.
She flinched, Ryker’s eyes widened, his mouth froze mid-chant.
“Not you, buddy.” Keith’s voice softened and he gestured to Ryker with a slight downward motion of his hand. “You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”
A muscle jumped in Keith’s jaw. “Haven’t you had enough of scaring the shit out of an eight-year-old kid?” His icy glare carved into both Shorty and Tom. “Who’s paying you? Is he too much of a coward to show his face. Let’s settle this man to man. You can have me. Hell, you can kill me, swift and efficient or slow and painful, I don’t much give a damn. I’ll get you the codes. But leave the kid and Grace alone. Let them go.” The plea scraped from his throat on a ragged breath.
Her heart hitched painfully in her chest. What was Keith doing? They’d kill him, and though he’d broken her trust by corrupting the drive, she suddenly understood that ever since that day he’d beaten Colby Longenbow, he’d taken on a strict code of honor. To protect people. Giving these sick bastards security secrets would’ve put so many more people in jeopardy. How could she fault him for doing the right thing?
And now he was willing to take his honor one step further, to die for her and Ryker. She couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat, a constant companion since it had lodged there upon awakening. Keith had deceived them and spared them all at the same time. She didn’t know what to think—what to feel. She just knew the thought of never seeing him again made her ache with desperation.
“Keith, you can’t...”
He turned to her, his features open in surrender. “I can, Gracie. Let me do this.”
Shorty shoved Grace. “Oh, shut up.”
Her knees hit concrete, her palms scraped across the rough cement as she braced her fall. Tom tossed Ryker in much the same manner and she crawled to him, clutched at his hands, his arms, until she could wrap her own arms around his slim shoulders.
“What...what about Keith?” His question was so soft she almost missed it. But the concerned quaver in his voice came through loud and clear.
She lifted her head from Ryker’s hair and looked at Keith. Streaks of dry blood marred his face making him seem tough and deadly, his tight jaw hinted at the ruthlessness she knew he possessed, and his tense, lean body stood proud, a testament to his strength. Yet, he let Tom drag his arms behind his back and secure them with some sort of cuffs without so much as a word of protest.
The two men shoved Keith toward the door. The heavy metal screeched open on its hinges and Shorty pulled him across the threshold. For a moment Keith’s features became vulnerable and he struggled against his bonds.
“Grace!” His shout echoed off the walls, almost as if he wanted to make sure he had her attention, while he struggled to gain some ground back into the room.
He needn’t have worried. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“Keith...” She stood, bringing Ryker with her, his face pressed into her leg.
“Grace, I...,” Keith winced, his body jerked, but somehow he managed to hold his ground where he straddled the threshold.
“Keith.” She breathed his name. The constriction in her throat wouldn’t allow more than that.
“I...” His eyes darkened, a swirl of emotions he’d never allowed her to see. He swallowed, the muscles in his neck standing out in sharp relief. “I’m...sorry.”
He grimaced as he was torn from the room.
“Keith!”
The door slammed, mingling with her voice. And then silence engulfed her and Ryker.
A silence that spoke louder than any words ever could.
Chapter Fifteen
The thick rope chafed at Keith’s wrist, his hands tingled with numbness from their position behind his back. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth, grazing his bottom lip.
God, he could still taste Grace there, a combination of sweetness and desperation. He swallowed. His eyes slid closed involuntarily despite the blindfold that obscured his vision.
Sometimes duty sucked.
He tugged at the rope. What had Grace expected? He jerked harder on the thick cable, a burn flared across his wrists. What had she really expected? He couldn’t hand over armament secrets. He’d sworn an oath. To the Army. To his Country.
And likely lost all of Grace’s trust in the process.
What about the oath you swore to h
er? He dropped his head forward, the muscles in his neck tightened in protest. It wasn’t the same thing. National security didn’t rest on his promise.
No. Just her heart.
He rocked the metal chair back on two legs and drew a deep breath. The blindfold itched across the bridge of his nose, but he stifled the discomfort. Listen. Be Prepared.
He held his body taut, ready, and tuned into his surroundings. Nothing. Complete and utter silence.
“Come on, you coward.” His shout reverberated in the empty room and snapped back to sting his ears. “You and me. Let’s settle this.”
From behind him, metal screeched on metal, footsteps drew near. Finally, he’d meet The Keeper face to face.
“If there’s any settling to be done in this matter,” the man said, “rest assured, I’ll be the one doing it.”
Keith tensed, The Keeper’s accent vaguely familiar. Not a full-blown twang, but a subtle ebb and flow he’d heard somewhere before. He’d bet on it.
The Keeper laughed. “I trust you’ve been every bit as comfortable here as at Monthan?”
Keith frowned, his suspicions confirmed. The Keeper had locked Keith in rehab. Which meant he had the authority—the rank—to sign the order. “The accommodations have been five star.”
A grunt. “You always did have a sense of humor.”
“Yeah? Then you must’ve always been one twisted son of a bitch.”
The Keeper let out another sharp bark of laughter. “Twisted is for serial killers. Twisted is mutilating animals. No. I’m far from twisted. I prefer to call myself an entrepreneur.”
“Is that what it’s classified as these days? And here I thought you were just a traitorous bastard.”
“Treason is such a subjective term these days. But I’m not here to debate patriotism with you. You know what I want.”
“Are they safe? Grace and Ryker?”
“Who?”
Keith strained against his bonds. “What about our deal?”
“Interesting. So the great King has a weakness after all.”
His stomach squirmed. “We had a deal.”
Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) Page 18