by Angel Payne
Fortunately, everything looked different on the path this morning. Nearly twenty hours ago, wind and autumn sun had been slashing through the trees, sharp knives of weather that were so perfect for the pain in her heart with every word, glance, and touch she’d exchanged with Zeke. Their lasts of everything…
This morning, the world seemed ready for a new beginning. A silvery mist floated over everything, turning the world into a hushed herald for whispered vows of love. Rayna smiled as she looked toward the water. As if they’d been summoned by special messenger just for Sage, three egrets flew in through the fog and took position on the dock.
She delved deeper into the forest.
“Ava?” she called. “Cuz, are you still out here?”
That was an instant lesson in unsuccessful. Her voice got absorbed by the mist, traveling two feet at best. Rayna smiled, enchanted by the atmosphere. If her best friend wasn’t getting married in fifteen minutes and her cousin didn’t have the bridal bouquet, she would’ve gone exploring for a fairy prince and princess—preferably a couple who could order Sage and her impish imagination into line.
“Ava? Ethan?”
She shouted it a little louder.
“Hey, you two. Where—oh!”
Her cousin and Ethan forced the cry from her as they seemed to materialize from behind a tree. She dismissed the hocus-pocus theory in an instant, since Ava was wearing half the tree in her thick hair and down her back. Her cousin’s pale pink cashmere sweater showed off a nice collection of leaves, bark, and twigs, not that Ava noticed. She was too busy catching her breath and forcing her neckline to behave again. Ethan didn’t look any less guilty. Rayna smirked as he mumbled something like an apology, pushing Sage’s completed bouquet into her hands.
“Thanks.” She pushed some of the flowers around to create a more balanced look, blending in the forest blooms the pair had found during their mission. Obviously, that wasn’t all they’d found out here. Her grin widened. “Hey, umm, Runway,” –she deliberately used Ethan’s radio call sign, thinking it would help the guy in the composure realignment department— “you have—some lipstick—”
“Shit.” Ethan wiped at his mouth. “Where?”
Rayna looked up to assist with the pinpoint. She burst into a giggle, instead. “Everywhere.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry. Cut up the path to the right after you go back through the gate. There’s a side door into Sage and Garrett’s kitchen.”
“I owe you big time, woman.”
She laughed again, but the mirth faded fast as she turned up the path herself. As Ethan headed toward the shortcut, he ducked his head as if panicked. A second later, she saw the reason why. The mist gave up Zeke’s distinct form. Ethan had avoided getting caught in his uniform and a face full of smeared lipstick by two seconds.
The close call had nothing to do with her halted heartbeat.
Was he even real?
The dark jacket of his dress blues made his shoulders stand out against the fog in broad, perfect relief. His sergeant’s stripes, along with the curved triangle at their bottom denoting his staff sergeant rank, gleamed on his upper arm. His newly short hair turned every bold angle of his face into a proclamation of his power as a warrior and his potency as a man.
You want to repay that favor now, Runway? Make the world go away so I can drag your teammate into the mist and hump him like a naked forest nymph.
They walked toward each other with slow, hesitant steps. Rayna picked nervously at the bouquet as she walked. Hell. Cue the sappy soundtrack and they’d make for damn great filler footage in a campy cable TV movie.
When he got within a few steps, Z stopped. “Christ.” His tone was full of reverence. “You’re fucking beautiful, Ray-bird.” He grunted at himself. “Shit. Sorry.”
Rayna let the corner of her mouth tilt up. “It’s all right. I’m the one who knows you’re human, remember?”
She expected a snarl. She got a self-deprecating laugh, instead. “Right. Thanks for the reminder.” He lifted a hand toward her but dropped it after a few inches. “You okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “That question’s getting a little redundant, Sergeant.”
“I know. But I’m human, remember?” He ducked his head to look through the trees, across the grass at the ceremony site. The string quartet started up, sending the strains of Brahms’ Menuetto toward them. “I think it’s residual paranoia, too. Garrett’s freaking out. Sage probably is now, as well.”
“What? Why? I left five minutes ago, and she was only at alert level orange on the spaz scale.”
“That was before we realized Franz is a no-show.”
“Oh, damn.”
“Oh, damn is right. Not often you get to have a CO who’s also ordained.”
She smiled. “Franzen’s a pretty cool guy.”
Zeke tucked her arm beneath his as they walked back through the gate. Rayna was tempted to pull away but he kept his fingers pressed atop hers, a silent order to let him be gallant. It wasn’t like he was guiding her back to civilization by the ass. Not that she’d fight him much on that scenario, either.
“Well, right now his ‘pretty cool’ presence has been missing since he and Hawk traded texts yesterday at lunch. He confirmed he’d meet us for some beers at the Opal last night and never showed. Now this…”
“What do you think’s going on?” She knew he’d feel better if he could vocalize his strategy. If there was anything she knew categorically about Z by now, it was his allergy to helplessness.
He slowed their pace and lowered his voice. “I think whatever they’re spinning up for us on the mission, it’s going to be complicated and dangerous. I think they’ve sealed Franzen behind closed doors for the briefings on it.”
“Crap.”
“Pretty much.” He glanced to where Tait, Kell, Rhett, and Rebel helped to seat people in front of the ceremony arch. His mouth pressed into a tight line. “Which is why it’s really vital we get our friends married today.”
Rayna yearned to refute the ugly inference of his tone. But playing ostrich didn’t do anyone good. Garrett needed to put a ring on Sage’s finger now. Her future, and the future of their child, might depend on it.
“So what’s the plan?” she insisted. “Do we have one?”
“Yep. It’s called stalling. Major Boone has a couple of chaplain friends and is sure he can round one up.”
“Thank goodness.”
They were back at the door to the canopy that covered Garrett and Sage’s back patio. Reluctantly, she let her hand slip from Zeke’s arm. The next appropriate thing was a cordial good-bye. Z was right. Sage was likely pushing code red in the freak-out department and needed her.
Her brain pounded with what Zeke had just shared with her. Complicated. Dangerous.
That meant some of the team could die. That meant Z himself could die. Shit. Shit.
When he grabbed her fingers again, she clung just as tight in return.
“Rayna,” he murmured. “Listen. When we’re out there, I could really use—” He cringed and cleared his throat. “What I mean is—” He stopped again, shaking his head. “Fuck. I know you can’t do the Friend Zone. I don’t blame you. But it would be cool if—”
She cut him off by pressing her palm to his jaw. “You know where to get me. You know you can call any time, Z.”
The caramel warmth that entered his gaze melted her blood to the same consistency. She wanted to strip right here and take a bath in it—but in her fantasy, she’d only gotten her heels off before Garrett charged up and grabbed them both. His handsome face was alive with a manic combination of emotions.
“Franz is here. I just saw his truck pull up.”
“Thank fuck,” Zeke answered.
“No shit.” Garrett snatched the bouquet from her and passed it off to Heidi, who’d just shown up with a gleeful grin on her face. “Is it okay if we skip your walk down the aisle, Ray? They’ve bumped up the snow call by two hours, and I wan
t my bride’s lips pink, not blue, for that first smack I’m gonna give them.”
“Not a problem.” She actually blew out a relieved breath. Having to pace down that white runner with Zeke waiting at the end next to Garrett was a pill of heartache she wasn’t looking forward to swallowing.
Garrett kissed her cheek. “Good girl.”
Did she hear a threatening rumble come from Z’s chest at that?
There was no time for the contemplation. After Heidi assured them that the major was ready and she’d personally fuss over Sage’s final details, Rayna had no choice but to rush for the altar with Garrett and Zeke. The quartet segued into their processional song, Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The ribbons on the altar blew softly. A fine layer of mist still covered the ground. The crowd quietly buzzed with excitement. Rayna waved at many friendly faces from the base, as well as Garrett’s Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Josie, whose belly was round with their own child.
As soon as Franzen joined them, everything would be set.
John Franzen appeared, all right.
He was dirty, sweaty, wild-eyed—and wearing nothing but a torn khaki T-shirt, scuffed shorts, and his combat boots.
Rayna joined the crowd in a gasp of shock. She looked over to Zeke, who motioned her to join them on the groom’s side of the aisle. As she did, Franz grabbed Garrett by both shoulders, his Maori-tatted biceps bulging with tension.
“Holy fuck. You are getting married.”
Garrett’s jaw worked but nothing came out for another fifteen seconds. “Uh…yeah. Like we talked about yesterday, Captain? After you texted me the alert about the op?”
Franzen had big eyes, but they bulged even wider. “The what?”
“The operation. As in the mission?” Garrett exchanged a look with Z that went beyond perplexed. If Rayna guessed it right, they hovered together in the realm of alarm.
“What mission?”
“Captain.” He reached for Franzen’s shoulder but the man violently shirked him off. “Don’t you remember? We pop smoke tomorrow. You told us to prep for heat and bugs. You texted everyone about it, except Zeke—”
“Who I pulled off the AWOL list.”
At least the man said that with conviction. But after that, his strong face dissolved once more into confusion and loss. He gazed at the crowd like they were an army of enemy robots he’d have to fight with his bare hands any second.
“Right,” Garrett confirmed.
“Which I did an hour ago.”
“Which you did over twenty-four hours ago.”
“Holy shit.” He scraped a huge hand over his close-shaved skull. “That’s the last thing I remember doing.” His confession was a tight rasp.
Zeke leaned forward. “Before what?”
“Before I woke up this morning.” He swallowed hard. “In a room that looked like Shakespeare threw up. In Las Vegas.”
“In Vegas?” Zeke and Garrett fired it off together. Incredulity sharpened their faces.
Franz nodded. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly. I was buck fucking naked. There was only this shit to wear. My phone, wallet, money, and tags were on the nightstand. I still had exactly ninety-three dollars in cash. Nothing was tampered with—except my phone. When I read the texts that I supposedly exchanged with Hawk, I knew some bad wango-tango had gone down.”
“What the hell?” Zeke muttered.
“Why didn’t you text me then?” Garrett asked.
“After I woke up naked on satin sheets, half expecting some sugar daddy to prance in and call me stud muffin? I had no idea what they might have done to you, Hawk. Or if those messages were even from you anymore.”
“Valid points,” Zeke concurred.
“Christ,” Garrett said, shaking his head with obvious disbelief. “How did you get back?”
“Found a couple of new boots hanging in the casino, who gave me a lift to Nellis.” He fixed Garrett with a dark stare and a tight jaw. “You say I had a whole conversation with you? As in, we talked?”
Garrett nodded. “Franz, it was you.”
“How did I sound?”
“Happy for Sage and I.” Suddenly, Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “But…distracted. Really distracted.”
“Or drugged,” Franz growled.
As if someone punched a turbo boost on his focus, Zeke’s demeanor zapped from active listener to decisive leader. “Someone needed to completely control your narrative,” he asserted at Franz. His shoulders tensed as he adapted the same battle-ready pose as his CO. “Someone who needed you out but not dead, who didn’t want the mess of murdering you. Someone who knew you’d be a non-issue as soon as they used you to make us all think a mission was going down.”
“But why?” Garrett questioned.
Franzen wheeled decisively. “They wanted Z back in play.”
Zeke didn’t return his CO’s scrutiny—because his had swung to Rayna. She gulped hard. His face was full of sharp, glinting fear and a pleading, parted mouth. “No,” he uttered. “They weren’t after me. They were after Rayna.”
“Garrett!”
Rayna’s body turned to ice as her friend’s cry shattered the air. Zeke seized her and dragged her next to him. That didn’t stop her from shuddering from head to toe as she forced her stare down the aisle, looking to where Sage now stood—
In Mua’s grip.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Do not let her go. Do not let her go. Do not let her go.
As the self-imposed command thundered in his mind, Z’s body shifted into moves his muscles remembered from thousands of repetitions. “Down!” he bellowed. “Everyone down now!”
He did the same but not before wrenching Rayna under him first. Immediately he looked up to locate Garrett, though he could’ve written the script for what his damn fool friend did. The guy had his gun in his hand and his heart on his fucking sleeve before he took two steps up the aisle. Zeke dropped his face into Rayna’s hair, expecting to endure Sage’s horrified scream any moment. He was certain Mua hadn’t come alone, meaning there was a small army of henchmen ready to drill Hawk full of lead any second.
Sure enough, Sage’s cry sprang through the air. It was pitched in pure joy. Zeke gaped as she ran from Mua, sprinted straight up the aisle, and leapt into Garrett’s arms. Her shriek was joined by the heavy shouts of his men—Ethan, Tait, Kell, Rhett, Rebel—along with the dozen other soldiers in attendance at the wedding, now with pistols locked on members of Mua’s force. Not a single shot had been fired.
Not yet.
“Freeze, asshole!”
Having heard Franz roar those words a few hundred times, Z nearly chuckled at this rendition. The syllables rang with a distinct overtone of glee, especially because Ethan, having tossed his own pistol to Franz, now wielded the M4 he’d pilfered from Garrett’s loaded mission pack—right at the middle of Mua’s spine.
Yeah, the situation had let’s-all-laugh-and-congratulate-ourselves all over it. But nobody did. Zeke glanced around. Everybody was stopped by the same glaring questions that he was.
Why, if Mua’s team had the element of surprise, did they all drop and surrender so fast?
Why had Mua simply let Sage go?
Why the fuck was the man even still here in the city…in the country?
And most importantly, why did the shiny-suited bastard look more peaceful than the goddamn egrets about it all?
Trying to deduce any answers made his gut writhe and his blood boil.
Because all the answers led back to Rayna.
Mua clucked at Franzen while slowly raising his hands. “My goodness, Captain,” he intoned. “Touchy, touchy—especially for a man who’s had such a long and pleasant nap.”
“Pleasant, my ass,” Franz growled.
Mua tilted his head and eyed the captain’s shorts. “Hmm. Your ass certainly does look nice from here, but do we wish to digress at the present moment?”
Z could feel Franz’s blood pressure rocket from where he still crouched over Rayna. She winced and squirmed a little.
He pressed a gentle hand on her back. “Bird? Are you hurt?”
“N-no.” She used the same whisper he had. “But shit—Zeke—”
“Then don’t move a fucking muscle. Do you understand me?”
She went still beneath him.
“Good girl.”
Oh, yeah. That sounded way better coming from his lips instead of Garrett’s.
A gust of chilled wind blew in off the lake. Zeke sniffed. There was snow on the air. It was coming soon, and it wasn’t going to be light, fluffy and pretty. It was going to be Seattle snow, soggy and messy—just like this entire confrontation if they didn’t soon congeal this walking pond scum into some wrist and ankle cuffs.
Thank God Franz was tuned to the same frequency. Like the pissed off bronze dragon he sometimes resembled, their CO boomed, “The only place you’re digressing is onto the ground, Mua. On your stomach now, unless you want me to do the honors. I haven’t dissected a worm since eighth grade. It’ll be a lot of fun.”
Z snarled with deep approval but didn’t dial back an ounce of vigilance, a precaution justified by Mua’s reaction to Franz. The dickwad chuckled like a damn game show host.
“While I enjoy your colorful banter, Franzen, the answer is no.”
“Is that so?” Franz nodded at Ethan, who loaded the M4’s chamber. “I don’t think you have a lot of choice here, scumbag.”
“Choices are so subjective,” Mua drawled, “are they not?”
Zeke grunted, his frustration mounting. “He’s stalling!” he yelled. “Get the bastard and his latrine logs out of here!”
His burst caused a noticeable rustle among Mua’s men. Though they all still knelt at the ends of his team’s guns, they glanced his way with unmistakable interest. Odd behavior from guys who’d just been likened to excrement and were bound for federal prison as accessories to Mua’s crimes.
“Ah-ha,” Mua called. “Sergeant Hayes. Seattle’s newest celebrity. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He concluded with the words that connected him to the motive Z had dreaded behind all this. “And while you’re at it, please bring Ms. Chestain along, as well.”