“Did I lose you?” Sarah’s freckled nose wrinkled.
“No. Just thinking.”
“Give me another one, Brock.”
Ropes. Sex tapes. And… “Hot fudge and vanilla ice cream.”
She bit his earlobe then licked down his neck. “Someone’s going to have a lot of shopping to do while on vacation.”
Before-Sarah was fun. More-Sarah rocked his world. “Rope and ice cream. Maybe the best things you’ve sent me to the store for.”
The Hummer pulled up to a resort, winding to the front reception area. The concierge could hook him up. Might look twice at his shopping list, but he wasn’t about to leave Sarah for long. This place was nice enough that they’d get what they asked for, no questions. And it was adults only. Surely the concierge had seen a rope, ice cream, and video camera request before?
A bellboy unloaded their bags. Brock meandered to the front desk, knowing exactly how the next few hours of their island getaway would go.
“Checking in. Reservation under Gamble.”
From behind him, Sarah wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning into his back. Felt good to have her with him, relaxed and unencumbered by their recent history. He snaked his palms over her forearms, covering the clasp of her hands below his stomach.
The woman behind the counter shoved slips of paper at him. “Mr. Gamble. You’ve had several emergency messages left from a man named Jared Westin.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brock’s stomach bottomed out. Emergency phone calls? Plural? He knew Jared like a brother. An estranged brother—and that killed Brock—but nothing he could do to change that. Bet Jared was pissed Brock never answered his cell phone. But it sat at home, after not charging it for weeks.
Still standing at the reception desk, Sarah’s bear-hugging arms had tensed around his torso. Last thing Brock needed was for her to freeze up and have a flashback. No telling what might be a trigger, but Jared and emergency messages sounded like it might.
She stepped to the side, eyes wide. “It can’t be the kids. They’re with my mom. But I’ll call and double-check.”
No. It wouldn’t be the kids. If something had happened to his kids, Jared would’ve jumped on a Lear jet and beat their commercial flight to Saint Lucia. He would’ve told Brock face-to-face. Jared was a dick, but of the honorable type.
“I don’t need to call him back.” Though what circumstances would make Jared track him down and pick up the phone? Whatever. Didn’t matter. Brock was here to rehash and rebuild, to make sure his wife came home again.
Her head tilted. “You can’t ignore an emergency call.”
“Sure I can. Dude probably’s just giving me a heads up—” he cut himself off. He was going to say something about retribution, but that wouldn’t help Sarah and her PTSD. “A head’s up on… I don’t know.”
“So call him.”
“Nah.” Brock shook his head, pulling her close. “Nothing good will come of it, and I’m here with you. For us.”
Sarah stepped to the resort counter. “I’ll take the messages. He’ll finish checking us in.”
The girl behind the counter gave an unsure smile. Jared had probably put the fear of God in her with each phone call, and if Brock wasn’t half-interested in returning the calls, she might be blamed. Can’t subject the poor girl to Boss Man’s attitude. “Fine.”
A few minutes later, they were in a swank suite, and nothing about his ice cream and rope shopping list would happen anytime soon. Sarah paced. She’d checked out the room, remarked on the awesomeness of it all, but her demeanor had shifted, and screw Jared for that.
“So, you wanna…” He shrugged. Pool. Hot tub. Ice cream. Where did he want to turn the conversation when the mood had clearly been assassinated by the Titan Group’s head honcho from a thousand miles away?
“Call him.” She slapped her hands to her hips and jutted an adamant chin. “I’m concerned. Curious. For heaven’s sake, Brock. Multiple emergency messages. Call him.”
“We didn’t part on the best of terms.” He scrubbed his face with a hand and stared at the hotel room phone, willing it to combust. No such luck, and Sarah was right. “Fine.”
He dropped onto the bed, and she joined him. Inches away, but miles in thought. Not how he thought they’d spend their first moments in bed in Saint Lucia.
“Call him,” she urged again. There was that bite of her lip. Nothing aroused or excited on her face; it was pure nerves.
He pinched his eyes closed and picked up the handset. A few punches of the dial later, and Brock’s international call to Titan’s headquarters rang in his ear. He used a backdoor number that would connect to Jared’s office. If there was an emergency, maybe the bastard wouldn’t be there. Maybe, like he thought before, this was just Jared giving him a proper heads up that the time had come, and even if Brock was on vacation, Jared was gunning for him.
An unfamiliar unease made his stomach twist as Sarah stared, barely blinking. Brock wasn’t one to overthink, but right now, he was. Weeks ago, everything had been so normal. Jared was his buddy. His mentor. Sarah was sweet and innocent. No reasons to check out the self-help section in the bookstore. An abduction had changed it all, and he’d never seen it coming. What was he missing now?
“Brock,” Jared barked when he picked up the line. There was nothing unordinary about that, except that the tension between the two men was palpable.
“Jared.”
There was a familiar heave of a burdened sigh. “I have a situation. Obvious reasons, you’re the last person on the planet I’d want to call. But this cropped up fast, and I have no options. None. Except for you, asshole.”
Having no choice would be the only reason Jared lasted on the line that long. He wouldn’t ask for help when a trust problem existed. There must’ve been a red-flag issue that required differences be ignored temporarily.
“All right—” Shit, Brock almost said Boss Man. “Let’s hear it.”
Long pause. Jared never hesitated. It spoke volumes and ripped like a knife through Brock’s gut. How could he have betrayed Titan? Sarah caught his eye. Easy. He’d take out anyone if he thought he was doing right by his family.
“Damn it,” Jared growled. “I have no choice.”
He nodded, knowing that bitch of a feeling. “Look, man. Nothing happened the way it should’ve happened. Sorry about that. But I’m not sorry about doing what I did, just how I did it. So if that’s what you need to hear, there you go.” It needed saying. Got it over with and done.
Sarah smiled at him and patted his knee. Unexpected but appreciated. He waited for Jared’s response. Wondered how that would go down. Maybe Brock should say congrats on getting hitched? Sugar was perfect for Boss Man. What did it matter?
And what was he trying to do, pick up a job in Saint Lucia?
No. Not at all.
His only goal should be his wife. But a familiar adrenaline spike rushed through his system. He tried to swallow it away. Centered on Sarah, but the back of his mind called out the possibilities: There was a mark, a target, someone or something that he could take on or take out. Black ops percolated in his blood. It was a game. An urgency…
What would Brock do after they returned to the real world? Get a job at an office? Punch a timecard instead of bad dudes?
Jared cleared his throat. “There’s a sex trafficker who snagged a client’s teenage daughter off a beach in Barbados. We know very little about this trafficker other than his reputation—if we lose this girl today, she’s a lost cause. Satellite footage suggests there’s a holding compound on Saint Lucia. She’ll be there less than eight hours if our intel’s right, and the countdown clock is already clicking. You’re her only chance.”
Brock glanced at Sarah. There was no way he could say no. The things that happened in the foreign sex slave markets were enough to make a grown man vomit. He’d taken out enough freaks, rescued enough victims to know death was sometimes a better option. The answer came easy. “Done. I’m in.”<
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Sarah’s eyebrows rose. Her lips pinched together, and Brock didn’t know if it was worry or anger or something more.
Jared let out a sharp breath. “Thank fuck.”
“Tell me how this is going to happen.”
“I’ve got no boots on the ground down there. Few connections, and they can only arm you on the quick. No backup. Nothing.”
“Roger that.”
“You get in trouble, there’s nothing I can do. No way to pull you out. That has nothing to do with you and me, you and Sugar. Nothing to do with Titan. You get that?”
“I know.”
“This doesn’t mean we’re good.”
“Didn’t make that assumption. I’ll get that kid safe. Titan can take it from there.” Because he wasn’t Titan anymore. Brock’s chest tightened. A sad swell of pathetic loss swirled deep in his gut.
Sarah mouthed, “Kid?”
He nodded, held up a finger to give him a minute.
“You ready for the details?”
Brock looked for pen and paper. This was the most rudimentary briefing he’d ever experienced. No satellite footage from Parker. No GPS coordinates to pinpoint locations or intelligence briefings that downloaded at the touch of a screen. He walked away from the bedside nightstand toward the desk, but the snag of the phone cord stopped him. A harsh chuckle escaped, and he shook his head. This was literally the least amount of technology he’d ever used on a rescue op. He was on a phone that had a cord, attached to a wall.
Brock motioned to the desk. “Can you hand me that pad and pen?”
She moved fast and returned to the bed. “Here.”
He sank next to her, ready to take tactical notes on coral-colored paper with a sun and beach logo while Sarah stared over his shoulder. “All right. Go.”
***
Sarah listened and watched, realizing this was the closest she’d ever come to hearing her husband talk about work. Her mind raced, wondering what it could be that required multiple phone calls and referenced a kid.
Brock stared at his notes. She didn’t make much out of it. Numbers. Maybe an address in code? Nothing that explained what their conversation meant. They’d had an unmentioned don’t ask, don’t tell policy. But now, watching him with his jaw muscles ticking and his forehead creased, Brock personified intensity. More than a man. Larger than life. She bit her lip, still very concerned as to what was happening and oddly interested by the idea of what terrified her.
No. She wasn’t interested. That was ridiculous. If there was an emergency, bad things were happening. Someone suffered. Someone may’ve been hurt. Brock had said a kid. She’d witnessed the aftereffects from what he had sacrificed for his own kids. But never had she seen him do his job. An hour ago, he was all sex and testosterone, rolled into one hot man. Now, he was all alpha and deadly toughness, though nothing on his exterior had changed. Yet it had.
The air was charged. A prickle of dread and concern laced over her skin. She shifted, but the uncomfortable weight of the room didn’t alleviate its push on her shoulders.
“Angel.” He looked up, a genuinely torn expression tensed over his cheeks and eyes. His jawline remained rigid, his mouth thinned into a straight line. “I know this trip is all about you and me, and I don’t expect you to get it. But I have to go out. Probably be back late tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
She expected her heart to sink, expected panic to choke her, but curiosity didn’t let it. “What’s the emergency? You said a kid?”
“The shit that nightmares are made of. At least mine.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I said no to this job.”
“Brock…” She wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t don’t go. Because if a kid needed help, who was she to say no? And if she listened to her jumbled feelings, there was more than a smidgeon of pride. He helped people. Saved lives. Took out the bad guys.
But then the cold panic arrived, falling down her back. Just like she knew would happen. Bad guys were the problem. Not just that her husband could get hurt, or even be killed, but… dang that choking feeling of being overwhelmed. That tension and stress. She tried to swallow a dry lump, suddenly blanking on how to breathe.
Brock ran his hands over his thighs then looked out the window. The sun was setting over the water. “I have to.”
He got off the bed and pulled her up and into a hug. She couldn’t move her muscles. They’d turned to concrete, and she was sinking into the floor. Drowning in her concerns, her memories. But he didn’t know. Maybe he’d worried about her reaction, but from his encapsulating hug, he couldn’t tell that fear and anxiety had taken control of her mind and limbs.
“Angel? Sarah? You okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay. But she couldn’t make the words come out.
Her heart raced in a bad way, and she felt hot around her neck, her chest, her… She gasped a breath.
“Sarah?” Brock held her in outstretched arms.
Oh, no. She was going to pass out. The room tilted. Her tongue turned thick, and not moving of her own accord, she found her legs giving out and her husband putting her in a chair. He smoothed her hair, told her to breathe. Told her to look into his eyes. Focus on him.
And she did.
He was unwavering in strength. Strong, solid, and dependable.
A breath floated into her lungs. Followed by another. And another. She got the hang of it again, blinked against her reaction, her embarrassment, her unshed tears.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Her voice broke; she couldn’t finish her apology.
“No worries.” He stroked her hair, smoothing it behind her ears. “I’m not going anywhere, angel. It’s okay. You’re my world. You and the girls. That’s it.”
Guilt swished the bile in her stomach. Brock had said a kid. She didn’t want her selfish reactions or his pity. Her head shook, undoing the hairs he’d tucked off her cheeks. “But it’s an emergency. With a kid.”
He dropped to a crouch between her knees and stared up at her. “Don’t care.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What the emergency is.”
“It’s someone else’s problem, angel.”
His face lied to her while he tried his best to convince her with soothing words and consoling gestures.
“I’m stronger than this.” She inhaled through her nose, out through her mouth, channeling every yoga video she’d ever owned. The word kid echoed in her head. “Tell me the emergency. What were you going to do? Where were you going to go? I’m never going to heal if I run from the challenges.”
“Sarah, we’re eliminating those challenges. I’m not going into the field anymore if this is what it does to you. I can’t. I won’t, considering what I just saw happen to my wife. Fuck no.”
“What did Jared ask you to do?” Her head pounded. “Please, I need to know.”
He shook his head. “Hell no. Can’t do it. Let me handle the dark stuff and—”
Grasping his hands, she squeezed as much for the details as for support. “I’ll assume the worst.”
“You can’t imagine the worst. Let it go. You don’t need to know about the things I know. I want to protect you. Need to. Don’t you get that?”
A swell of passion surged in her chest, materializing through her arms and fists. She pushed him back and stood up. “Stop protecting me.”
“But—”
“Tell me the emergency, Brock. Tell me because I need to know. Because I want to get a handle on the tricks my mind is playing. Because we have to start somewhere, and it might as well be today. Right now.”
His body went rigid. “Goddamn it.” Dropping his head back, he scanned the ceiling then paced the room. “A girl, not too much older than our girls, was taken by a sex trafficker with a reputation for disappearing. Once he gets his product, the girls, they’re gone. But there’s a chance… a narrow window, and I can infiltrate and get her out. Not good odds, but the best the kid’s got. I’d have no b
ackup. No additional eyes, resources, no gadgets. Just some local hardware—guns—that I’d get from a third-party contact.” He paced again. “That’s the emergency.”
This is what he did when he left home? He saved children. He interacted with scum. But he cleaned it up. She’d always known it, even if he hadn’t said it outright. Not that she could’ve imagined the scenario he’d just spouted, but still. “That’s someone’s daughter.”
He lifted his chin then pinched his eyes. “Yeah, someone’s kid.”
No way would she hold Brock back. Dangerous, yes. But if it were their girls… Sarah couldn’t be the reason an innocent girl was lost to evil.
She took a deep breath. “Take me.” Wait, where had that come from? But it made sense. He shouldn’t be alone and just said he didn’t have anyone else. Well, Brock had her. “I’ll be your eyes and resources. Tell me what to do, and I can do it.”
A harsh, coughing laugh answered her. His eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened. “No way, angel. Are you kidding me?”
“I won’t be a liability. I won’t slow you down.” She took a step forward, suddenly never more sure of what she wanted. “Take me with you.”
“You can’t fire a gun.”
“Point and pull the trigger. Seen it on TV.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” He backed up again. “The answer is no. No way. No way in the world.”
She stepped to him again. “What’s going to happen to that kid?”
“The kid?” Shadows darkened his smoky eyes.
“Yeah, Brock. The kid. Someone’s going to buy her? Is there an auction block? Old men bidding on her? Maybe it’s an online thing? I don’t know how these things work. But you do.”
“Sarah,” he snapped. “Enough.”
“What happens to her? Day one, she gets broken in by some sicko? Or does she have to wait around, terrified and having no idea what atrocious things will happen to her body?”
“Sarah! Stop it, goddamn it.”
“I bet she’s scared. Crying for her mom. Her daddy. Anyone to come save her. And that’s you, Brock. You’re the anyone. You’re the savior, her superhero. Just because I freaked out, just because you and Titan parted ways, that doesn’t change that you’re going to save her from those inhuman predators. And I will help you, so help me God.” Tears streamed down her face. “Now. What are we going to do about it?”
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