Heath kicked his boots out and crossed his ankles. “If we go forward with this, there’s no going back. I don’t know where it’ll end, but right now we’re somewhat safe from the past. She is the past, men.”
“She’s the key,” Denver replied softly.
“I’m damn tired of playing defense. Let’s take control. Plus, she’s the only way to find these missing brothers of Greg’s,” Ryker said. If his brothers were missing, he’d be out of his damn mind. He had to help that kid find his family.
Heath shook his head. “Speaking of which, if Greg has brothers somewhere, why won’t he tell us where?”
“He said their school was blown up, and he has no clue where his brothers were relocated,” Ryker reminded him.
“The kid isn’t telling us the whole truth,” Heath countered.
Ryker nodded. “Would you tell us? I mean, if you were that kid, would you reveal all?”
“Shit no,” Heath said slowly. “He trusts like we do: not at all.”
“If I couldn’t find you guys, I’d be desperate,” Ryker said. “He is, and that’s why I trust him. He has to find those brothers the same way I’d need to find you guys. That’s the only reason he came to us—to anybody—for help: desperation.”
Greg appeared suddenly in the door. “I’m not desperate.”
Denver typed quickly on the keyboard, waited a minute, and then flipped the monitor around. “Here’s the depot in Utah that was blown up.” Scorched earth and shattered buildings littered the snowy ground. “How do you expect us to believe you?”
Greg swallowed and stepped inside the room. He paled, and a look way too stark to belong to a kid filled his eyes. “Scan to the north.”
Denver reached for the mouse and manipulated the screen beyond the buildings to a wide field. “Yeah?”
“Zoom in to the left.”
Denver did so, craning his neck to see around the monitor. “Okay.” He frowned. “What’s that?”
Greg paled. “That was my grave, man.”
Ryker jerked his head back and narrowed his gaze. A grave marker did line the area away from the downed fence. But…he looked closer and then whistled.
“Yeah,” Greg said. “It’s been dug up.”
“So you think your brothers are looking for you?” Heath asked.
Greg shook his head. “No. I set up several places on the Internet that they could find if they were looking, and only they could find those places on the dark web. They haven’t looked, so they don’t think I’m alive.”
“Why the hell would they move your grave, then?” Ryker asked.
“If they left the compound, if they found safety somehow, they’d take me with them.” Faith in his brothers colored Greg’s words.
Ryker fought a shiver. “True that,” he murmured.
“You think kids would’ve dug up and moved a coffin?” Heath asked.
“If it was you, I would’ve moved you even when we were kids,” Ryker said while Denver nodded, his gaze stark.
Heath pointed to the monitor. “We have an idea to bring Dr. Madison here. To fall into a trap of hers so she has to come calling. What do you think?”
Greg’s face lost all color. “Shit no, man. You don’t understand.” Panic swelled from the kid. “Madison won’t come. Soldiers—ones trained beyond what you could even imagine—will storm the entire town.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Ryker said, more than a little surprised by the panic. Nothing had seemed to get to this kid. “We won’t let anybody hurt you, Greg.”
Greg’s chin dropped. “Oh man. You have no fucking clue. Jesus.” He turned to go, and only Ryker’s hand on his arm stopped him. “I have to get out of here. This was a mistake.” His voice rose on the last in pure panic.
“Wait a minute—” Ryker started and stood up.
Greg swept out with his leg, catching Ryker in the knee. It buckled, and he went forward. Greg followed up with a cuff to the temple and turned to run.
Pain bloomed in Ryker’s head. He grabbed Greg by the leg, pulling him down. Greg fought hard, punching and kicking, using a combination of several martial arts moves as well as street moves. Ryker countered each one, his head ringing, his temper trying to spring free. He kept his moves to defense and held back from harming the boy.
Greg connected with a solid punch to Ryker’s mouth.
He growled and gripped the kid’s wrists, jerking him up and off his feet to plant him against the wall. “Knock it the fuck off,” he growled, his face in Greg’s.
Denver leaned against the door frame, and Heath had moved behind them to keep track.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Greg hissed, struggling against Ryker’s hold.
“Me?” Ryker spit blood off his lip, his chest heaving out. “What about you? Jesus. You been training since diapers?”
Greg stilled. “Yeah.”
Ryker blinked and lowered the kid to the ground. Shock slowed his movements. They’d made the boy learn to fight before he’d walked? How fucked up was that? “Listen. We’re in this together, whatever it is. Dr. Madison tested all of us, and there had to be a reason. Do you have any idea what it was?”
“No.” Greg stuck out his chin.
Interesting and twice as heartbreaking. “You’re lying.”
“Prove it.” Greg shook out of Ryker’s hold. “There’s no trap for Madison that will capture her. She won’t come.” He shrugged. “Unless the commander is dead, which is totally unlikely. He runs the military side of their little fiefdom.”
Ryker stepped back to give him some room. “All right. Let me get this straight. You and your brothers were raised in a military-type school where they trained you to fight.” Only size and strength had allowed Ryker to keep Greg from hurting either one of them. When Greg reached adulthood, he’d be one dangerous motherfucker.
Greg blinked. “I take it you weren’t trained?”
“Madison studied only our IQs and conditioning. We were taught for free by a local martial arts expert and then attended a military training camp,” Ryker said. For the first time, he wondered if it had indeed been free. Had Madison arranged for them to be conditioned to fight? “We learned a lot on our own through the years as well.”
Heath cocked his head. “I wonder why we were trained at all. I mean, this is all so damn confusing. We have to find that woman to get some answers. It’s the only way.”
“I can’t stop you,” Greg said. He stepped toward Ryker. “But take some advice. If they come for you, they’ll come at your weaknesses. They’ll come at what you care about. Cut Zara loose now.”
The words spoken by such a young face sent chills down Ryker’s back. Anger tried to take hold, and he forced it back, needing to stay calm and in control for Greg. “I can take care of Zara.”
Greg wearily shook his head.
“Greg, you have to trust us,” Heath said. “We’re trained, too. We won’t let anybody hurt you or Zara.”
“Poor stupid sap,” Greg murmured.
“She studied us, too,” Denver said, finally chiming in.
Heath nodded. “She might be the key to our pasts and our families. This isn’t just about you.”
Greg shook his head more wildly. “Don’t you get it? You have family right here and now. You guys are brothers, which is all anybody ever needs. Anything else you find out is just gonna hurt in a way you don’t even understand. These are not good people. If Madison is involved in your past, then believe me, you do not want to know a damn thing about it.” His eyes filled with tears, and he angrily brushed them away. “Live your very good lives and stop looking back.”
Agony swelled from the kid along with a strong shimmer of fear.
Ryker tried to calm his system. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t let anybody hurt this boy ever again. Right now he needed cooperation to make that happen. “How about we show you the plan to draw in Madison or her soldiers? If soldiers show up, they can lead us back to her. It’s really the only
way.”
Greg dropped his head forward. “You’re all gonna end up dead.”
“We’re tougher than you think.” Ryker gently slid a hand along the kid’s nape and tugged him to his side. “How about we all work together on this?”
Greg’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, but don’t ever say I didn’t warn you. For now, please distance yourself from Zara. She doesn’t have any clue what’s out there, and it’s your job to keep it like that.”
“I know. But she has her own issues going on, and I need to cover her on that side, too,” Ryker said.
Greg’s head jerked up. “What issues?”
Man, the kid had a crush, didn’t he? “I’ve got it covered, pal.” Ryker nudged Greg back into Denver’s office. He would try to protect the kid as much as possible. “So here’s the plan. We have a safe house across town, and there we can set a trap for Madison or her soldiers or whoever shows up.” Grabbing a notepad from the corner, he started to sketch. “Feel free to jump in with ideas.”
Chapter
21
Zara shifted beneath the covers and tried to find a cool spot for her feet. Ryker put off a lot of heat at night. He lay on his stomach, taking up most of her bed, breathing softly into a pillow.
It felt right, ending their day together.
She swallowed. Her throat ached. Man, she was thirsty. Gingerly, she slid from the bed and drew on her fuzzy pink robe. Chances were Greg was dead asleep, but just in case, she didn’t want to freak out the kid in her Minnie Mouse shorts and tank top. She shoved hair away from her face and padded quietly through her bedroom and out into the living room.
Cool air hit her.
Good. She’d have to start sleeping with the window open if Ryker kept staying over. At least if there was a long-term heat outage, she’d be toasty warm every night with him.
If he stayed. The idea gave her warm tingles through her abdomen.
It kind of felt like he did want to stay, and she’d started to wonder if they could make it work. She reached the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, then quickly drank it down. Better. Much better. She slowly refilled the glass.
The air felt funny. She stilled.
Muscled arms grabbed her from behind.
She stiffened and then struggled. Panic swamped her.
A huge hand, covered in hair, slapped duct tape over her mouth. She screamed for Ryker beneath it, shooting both elbows back into the guy’s gut, panic giving her strength.
Suddenly, the body behind her was ripped away, sending her sprawling into the refrigerator. She fell to the floor. Pain slapped from her hands to her elbows. Two bodies hit and kicked quickly, grunting in anger and pain. One was much slimmer than the other one. “Greg?” She shoved to her feet. The guy he was fighting with wore all black, and something covered his entire head.
Ryker barreled out of the bedroom in a rush of speed.
The front door blew open, and two more men rushed inside, both wearing ski masks and black clothing. Ryker pivoted and attacked both men, tackling them against the wall. Pictures dropped. A gun flew out and spun across the room. Something loud crunched, and one of the men screamed, pain filling the sound.
The guy in the kitchen lifted Greg and threw him. Greg hit the counter, bounced up, and lunged at the attacker right before he could reach Zara.
Zara ripped the tape off her mouth, shoved to her feet, and dove for the gun in the living room. What was going on? Her hands fumbled madly for the weapon.
A foot connected with her chin, and stars flashed behind her eyes. Nausea filled her stomach. God. Tears filled her eyes. Where was the gun? What happened to the gun? She crab-walked across the room, her hands slapping against the floor.
The attacker in the kitchen shoved Greg into cupboards, and pots and pans flew out. Greg kicked up, hitting the guy beneath the chin. The attacker flew back and into the refrigerator.
Zara blinked tears from her eyes. How could this be happening? Her jaw pounded in pain, and dots filled her vision. Ryker fought near the door, taking on two men, punching the first in the jaw. The guy’s head snapped back with an audible crack.
The man in the kitchen punched Greg in the gut. The kid doubled over.
Fury flowed through Zara, and she pivoted to help him.
The attacker slammed Greg on the shoulder and took out a gun. Greg dropped to one knee and looked up, pure rage across his young face. His muscles bunched to move, but the attacker cocked the gun and pointed it at his forehead.
“No!” Zara jumped up, grabbed a cast-iron skillet, and swung with all her strength. It hit the guy in the shoulder, and he partially turned toward her.
Greg swept out his leg, hitting the guy in the knee, and he fell.
Zara swung the skillet again at the guy’s head. The edge hit mid-temple, and the man’s head jerked back, he hit the floor, and bounced. His eyes fluttered shut, and his entire body went limp.
Ryker came flying over the kitchen island, landed hard, and rolled, a gun in his hand. He leaped up, firing into the living room. One guy bellowed in pain, and his buddy grabbed him, yanking him through the door. They ran out into the night.
Zara sucked in air, her head still spinning. She grabbed the counter to keep from going down.
Ryker reached her in seconds. Blood flowed from a cut on his chin, dripping to his bare chest. “You okay?”
She nodded and rubbed her aching jaw. “Yeah. Just got kicked.”
He leaned in and studied her jaw. Tension emanated from him, and with the gun in his hand, he looked like the badass vigilante he was.
The screech of tires outside filled the night.
Greg shoved to his feet and kicked the downed man in the kitchen. The guy didn’t even groan.
Zara hurried through the mess to the boy and tilted his head back. “Oh, sweetie. You’re gonna have a black eye.” The poor kid. Her heart lurched and continued its hammering.
“Not my first.” Greg smiled through bloodied lips, nudging a pot away from his foot. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” The kid could really fight.
Sadness whipped through her. The poor kid must’ve had to know how to fight. As did Ryker. Lost, wounded males all but surrounded her. She reached for a paper towel to press to Greg’s lip. She looked down at the unconscious man. “He duct-taped my mouth.”
Greg gingerly fingered a bruise forming by his cheek. “Was he here for you or me?” He looked at Ryker. “Or you?”
Ryker leaned down and ripped off the face mask. Thick black hair covered the guy’s head along with a matching beard. He had a strong jaw that went with his powerhouse of a body. “Anybody recognize this guy?”
Greg peered closer. “Nope.”
Zara shook her head. “No.” Her knees went weak.
“Whoa.” Ryker tugged her against him for a moment. “Take a deep breath, baby.”
She did so, and her lungs seized. Shuddering, she burrowed into the warm safety he provided. Then she looked into the living room. A chair lay in pieces next to her shattered lamps. One painting hung haphazardly from a corner, and blood marred the throw rug. The front door remained open with the damaged lock half out of the frame. “Should we call the police?”
Ryker studied the guy on the ground. “Not yet.” He crouched and grabbed the duct tape. “Zara? Go pack a bag for a week’s stay. Greg? Get your stuff.” Her grabbed the guy’s arm and started winding the tape around his hairy wrists.
Zara stumbled. “What are you doing?”
Ryker looked up, giving her his full attention.
She took a step back.
Cold intent filled his eyes, which lacked any warmth. Blood dotted his chest, and a couple of purple bruises had begun to form along his muscled arms. Danger cascaded from him along with an untenable tension. “Do as I’ve said, Zara. Now.”
She didn’t know him like this. Not at all. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned and all but ran for the bedroom to pack a bag.
What had she gotten i
nvolved in?
* * *
Ryker finished binding the guy’s wrists and ankles with the duct tape, and then for good measure, he slapped a piece across the guy’s mouth. With that beard and mustache, it’d hurt like hell when pulled off.
Greg returned to the kitchen with his backpack over one shoulder. A lump marred the skin above his left eye. “I told you to cut her loose, man.”
Ryker stood. “What if this was about her, not you?”
“Think it was?” Greg asked.
“We’re gonna find out. He duct-taped her mouth, which might mean he wanted to take her. Or maybe he just wanted her quiet while he killed you. Or me.” Ryker stretched his aching jaw, adrenaline pushing him to hurry it up. He had to cover Zara and now. “Either way, we need to get her out of here.”
“Okay.”
Ryker studied the kid. “You okay with what’s going to happen?”
Greg lifted a dark eyebrow, his lips curving in a smirk. “If you don’t have the stomach for it, I do. Give me five minutes with the guy, and he’ll tell us everything we want to know and then some.”
Great. Ryker ignored the warnings clamoring in his head even as his heart hurt for the kid. Man, he saw himself in Greg—another lost kid just trying to survive and build a family with his brothers—and Ryker would protect him no matter the cost.
What a shit-storm. He had a woman in the other room now frightened of him and probably in more danger than she understood, and he had a boy in front of him who was well versed in torture at only about twelve years old. Plus, the past was breathing down his neck and about to explode again—he just knew it. “We’re fucked,” he muttered.
Greg scratched his elbow. “Copy that.” He stared at the man on the ground. “Though this guy wasn’t after me.”
Ryker frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Because you and I are both still alive. The commander and Madison wouldn’t have sent anybody we could’ve fought so easily. Sorry.”
The kid had a real fear of his commander. “I don’t know, Greg. You handled yourself pretty well.”
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