by Sharon Wray
A heavy sensation invaded Rafe’s stomach. “Told me what?”
Pete went to the water cooler and filled a plastic cup. “Ibuprofen?”
“Desk.” Nate leaned over, his forearms on his thighs, his upper body shaking.
Rafe found the bottle in the first drawer and tossed it to Pete. Nate downed four pills.
Sweat glazed Nate’s pale face, and his gaze danced around the room like on a sniper search. After two inhales, he sat back, spreading his legs to keep his large body balanced on the small chair. He closed his eyes again and ran his hands over his head. “I’m okay.”
Liar. Now Rafe needed answers to a new set of questions. “What just happened?”
“Seizure,” Nate said. “Followed by a headache. In a few minutes, I’ll throw up.”
“This was minor,” Pete said. “Petit mal.”
Something else Calum had left out. “Why are you getting seizures? PTSD?”
“Warlord POW camp.” Pete moved a laptop and sat on the table. It sagged under his weight. “In Afghanistan.”
Now Rafe felt like he was in that dream with the rabbit, a maze, and circling riddles. “How’d that happen?”
“Wakhan Corridor Massacre,” Pete said. “Ever heard of it?”
“A native Wakhi tribe was murdered. Hundreds slaughtered, women and kids raped and burned. No one took responsibility.” Even the Prince had been horrified by the brutality.
Nate shaded his eyes. “Pete and I need to find out who was responsible.”
“Why? That happened years ago.”
“Two A-teams, including mine, were accused of the massacre, tried, and sentenced.”
In spite of the humming electronics, the room felt silent. Nate’s story wasn’t possible. He was the most rule-following soldier the army ever trained. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” Pete said. “Nate was in command. After the massacre, two of our teams were ambushed near the site of the massacre and imprisoned as POWs. It took weeks to learn what they were accused of.”
“Your A-teams were accused of this massacre, taken prisoner, and then released?”
“Rescued,” Nate said. “After two years, Colonel Torridan rescued us. Except once home, we were secretly tried and sentenced for mass murder and treason. The rescue, trials, and sentencing are classified. No one knows the truth. Not even our families.”
Rafe rubbed his eyes with two fingers. “Your two teams were found guilty of the Wakhan Corridor Massacre?”
“Yeah.” Nate’s voice barely qualified as a whisper. “Then dishonorably discharged and sent to Leedsville Prison in Minnesota.”
It took power and money to ghost two A-teams. Even Calum couldn’t swing that deal. Hell, even the Prince couldn’t do it. “How many men are still in prison?”
“Ten. My A-team and Colonel Keeley’s.”
“Why was Colonel Keeley there?”
“Jack Keeley led the second team. His men, along with mine, got caught up in the ambush and ensuing nightmare.”
Rafe paced, aware of the other men’s breathing patterns, where their hands were, whether they were ready to fight. Except their lowered shoulders and hunched backs screamed tired, defeated, discouraged. “So why are you and Pete in Savannah?”
“Colonel Torridan has been searching for answers since the night of the ambush. Six weeks ago, he found two clues.”
Pete snorted.
“Not great clues,” Nate added. “Torridan got me released so we can investigate. If we find out who did this to us and why, then we can free the rest of our men. Prove our innocence. Reclaim our names. Win back our honor.”
Hell of a mission. “If you fail?”
“Prison,” Nate said. “For a long time.”
Not only were Nate and Pete in danger because of Rafe’s ongoing war games with the Fianna, their own stakes couldn’t get any higher. And Calum had known this and not told him.
Big fucking surprise.
Pete eyeballed the bandages on Rafe’s arm. Then his tats. “You here to help us?”
“Depends on your clues.” Please don’t say a vial. He couldn’t execute these men.
“A flower,” Nate said. “The night of the ambush, every wife in the unit received one. No note. No info on who delivered it. Just a bloom.”
Rafe scoffed to hide his relief. “It took Colonel Torridan five years to find this out?”
“At the time, only four men were married. After the imprisonment, our families were thrown off post. And it wasn’t just any flower. It was a lily with eight petals and no stamen.”
Rafe’s body locked down, from his jaw to his feet. Although Calum had warned Rafe, he hadn’t been ready to hear it.
“A lily from your wife’s property on the Isle of Grace.” Pete glanced at Nate. “The second clue is a woman we can’t locate. Anne Capel. Calum told us you knew her.”
When this was over, Rafe was going to pummel Calum. Then shoot him. “The only Anne Capel with ties to that lily is dead. Has been for centuries.”
Nate ran his hands over his head, and his shoulders shook. “That’s not possible.”
A knock pounded on the door as it opened. Deke’s head appeared. “Time to work.”
Nate stood, wobbled, and Rafe shoved Nate’s ass into the chair. “I’m Walker’s sub.”
Rafe had just put his ass on the line for Nate? Calum would be proud. No, Calum had probably planned this.
“No deal,” Deke said.
Rafe removed his leather jacket and threw it on the table between the tools and the microwave. “You want to be down one set of muscles tonight? Place looks packed.”
“Fine.” Deke scowled. “Do it now.”
* * *
Juliet stared at herself in the full-length mirror of the club’s locker room. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to worry about creepy texts, Carina’s bitchiness, or seeing Rafe tomorrow. Since she had no idea where Calum had taken Rafe, and she’d been so busy setting up for a funeral and inspecting the Liberty Square site, she’d put Rafe out of her mind. There was no room left in her heart for sadness and stress.
She wanted to be back in her apartment, working on Mr. Delacroix’s proposal, finishing the details for Liberty Square, booking new clients. But right now she needed to focus on her immediate problems.
In gold stilettos, she spun around to check the gold lamé micro-mini barely covering her bottom. She turned back to adjust the way-too-small gold halter top. Unfortunately, she’d lost ten pounds since she’d last danced, most of it in her breasts and her stomach. She added more bra padding because ridiculously inflated breasts might increase her tips.
“Hey, Jade.” A woman in sweats came up beside her. “Haven’t seen you in a bunch.”
“Hi.” Marylou, with blond hair and green eyes, had joined the club before Juliet left. “How’s school?”
“Good.” Marylou tied her hair up. “There’s a new bouncer. He said hello to me.”
A bouncer who recognized the need for the women who worked here to be seen as people of worth? Juliet applied her scarlet lipstick. “A miracle.”
“His biceps are bigger than my waist.” Marylou positioned her wig and started pinning. “He’s a super hottie. And that’s in jeans and a T-shirt. All muscle, tall, short hair.”
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Juliet didn’t want to hear about Mr. Super Stud.
Marylou dropped her gaze. “He opened the door for me. A real gentleman.”
Juliet brushed her own hair. Hers was much longer, almost to her waist, and dark brown, reminding her of mud. Except Rafe loved— She slammed her brush on the table.
“You alright?” Marylou had gone from blond to black in under a minute.
Juliet transformed herself from a brunette into a white blond with a terse, “Yes.” Since Marylou still watched her, Juliet changed
the subject. “How’ve the tips been?”
Marylou turned her lips pink. “I make a grand a night. Some girls make two. Except I can only get one night a week. Everyone wants to dance here because the money is so good.”
“And Saturday?”
“Guaranteed six grand. But I haven’t been able to get a Saturday in six months.”
Not enough. “Is that from the cage?”
“Yes.” Marylou mushed her lips together. “You can earn more on the floor. Lap dances are four hundred each. A thousand in a private booth.”
Private laps could make up the difference. Juliet had done them in the beginning, hating every demeaning moment.
More women came in. Hair dryers flicked on, and the lights dimmed.
“Deke has been pressuring me to do more,” Marylou said. “To—you know.”
Yeah. Juliet knew. Besides the dancers, Deke had prostitutes who worked the rooms, using the coed bathrooms to complete their transactions. “Don’t let Deke intimidate you. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not strong on your own.”
She dropped her arms and stared at herself in the mirror again. Long white-blond hair instead of her normal brown, a heart-shaped face, and red lips.
Samantha slid in next to her and adjusted her corset. Since she was a waitress, she could get away with a black mini, a corset, and high-heeled boots. “I hear there’s a new bouncer.”
Marylou giggled. “He’s a stud muffin. You should see his tattoos. I almost fainted to see if he would catch me in those fabulous arms of his.”
Juliet wished her only problem was drooling over the newest bouncer.
Deke stuck his head in the room. The music bounced off the hallway walls. “It’s time.”
She pulled him aside. “We need to talk.”
He stared at her breasts and licked his lips. “On your next break.”
With her head held high, she went for her cage.
Chapter 12
At eleven p.m., Rafe headed for the control room. He and Pete had already broken up fights in the bathroom and thrown out a drunk bachelorette party. He’d also met some of the strippers, most with eyes shadowed by self-loathing. He’d been extra polite to those he’d met.
He found Pete staring at the laptops. “How’s Nate?”
“Out.” Pete nodded to the couch where Nate lay beneath a plaid blanket either asleep or unconscious. From his shallow breaths, could be either.
Not feeling the love from Pete, Rafe studied the screens. A man with a heavily tattooed bare chest guarded the door to the velvet room. “Who’s that?”
“Bruce.” Pete adjusted one of the cameras. “The VIP room just opened. If he has a question about a patron, he’ll radio. One of us should stay here for the rest of the night.”
“We get to approve who gets in?”
“Yeah.” Pete took a mug out of the microwave, and the scent of stale, reheated coffee filled the room. “After spending years in an A-team, it’s a power rush.”
Rafe heard the sadness in Pete’s voice, but since he couldn’t help, he watched the monitors. The main room had filled. Women stripped on the poles near the stage; others worked the cages above the dance floor. Too high to touch but close enough for men to throw in money. A leggy blond in a gold mini was the only dancer who deliberately kept her face hidden from the cameras. “Who’s that?”
“Deke handles the women,” Pete said.
“You don’t care what goes on in the club?” Considering what Rafe had seen in the bathrooms, the women not only danced, they were for sale.
“I care about our mission. This job keeps us fed and pays for our shitty motel.”
“Is that where Nate got beat up?”
“No.” Lines curved around Pete’s dark eyes. “When Nate gets stressed, he spars with the regulars at Iron Rack’s gym. The more upset he is, the more bruises he gets.”
“Nate went today after finding out I’d come home?”
“Yep.”
Rafe wasn’t the only screwed-up man in the room? That didn’t bode well for the mission.
“What about yours?” Pete pointed to the bandages on Rafe’s shoulder and arm.
They ached, but he’d had worse. Much worse. “A welcome-home gift.”
“From that guy killed by a sniper on the Isle?”
“You heard?”
“Nate is your PO.” Pete raised an eyebrow. “Did you know the victim?”
“The less I tell you, the better.”
“Uh-huh.” Pete went back to zooming cameras in and out.
The room filled with the hum of computers pumping out heat and the clacking of Pete’s molars digging for diamonds. “What the fuck is wrong?”
“Colonel Torridan told Nate there’s a Fianna warrior in town.”
“The Fianna is my problem. I don’t want you and Nate caught in the cross fire.”
“Fine by me.” Pete glanced at him, and then back at the laptops. “Is the Gauntlet real?”
The question Rafe had been waiting for all night. And he gave the three answers every soldier around the world wanted to know. “The Gauntlet’s real. Most men die. I survived.”
Pete stared at Rafe’s arm. “And the tattoos?”
Now that Q was unexpected. “They mean what you think they mean.”
“Oh,” Pete said quietly. “Does Juliet—”
“She knows.” And that’s all he was going to say about it. He refocused on the security screens as the blond took off her bra, keeping her back to the camera. Despite the men throwing money at her, she danced as if alone.
“I want the truth, Montfort. You disobeyed Nate’s orders once. Will you help us now?”
“Yes.” If Juliet was involved with what happened to Nate and his men and that vial, Rafe was in. “What else did Torridan say about the lily?”
“Only that he traced it to Savannah. Why? Do you know anything else about it?”
Rafe tightened the camera view on Deke, near the blond, adjusting his pants.
“That lily grew on the Isle when I was a boy. We called it the Capel Lily because it appeared on Capel land. I haven’t seen one since I was a kid.”
“Damn it.”
Rafe heard a groan from Nate and checked his breathing. Steady but shallow. “Does Nate remember anything else about the ambush?”
Pete took a bandana from his pocket, soaked it with water from the cooler, and put it on Nate’s forehead. “Nate suffered a head injury during the ambush, and someone in the POW camp pumped him up with drugs. He lost his memories of that night. Whatever info he might have to help us is buried so deep, no one can access it.”
Rafe felt Nate’s wrist. Pulse was slow and erratic. How ironic that the man who needed to remember couldn’t and the man who wanted to forget wasn’t allowed to.
“Since we’re in truth-telling mode,” Pete said, “I’ll share something Nate made me swear never to tell anyone. Not even Colonel Torridan. During the ambush, Nate saw a man on the other side of the ridge from where his team had dug in.”
Rafe waited while Pete planted his hands on his thighs, his enormous upper body heaving. Whatever the secret was, it was a hell of a burden. “And?”
“Right before the first rocket-propelled grenade hit the unit’s location, the man bowed.”
That was seriously bad news. “Did anyone else see this…bowing man?” Rafe hated Calum’s nickname, but it seemed less harsh than soul-sucking assassin.
“No. Two years later, after the rescue from the POW camp, Nate’s memory was potholed. He didn’t mention it because he didn’t want Torridan to get wound up over something that might not have happened.”
“That’s the first good news I’ve heard all day.”
“If Nate saw a bowing man on that ridge—and no one else did—what does it mean?”
Rafe shook h
is arms to stretch the twitchy muscles. His pain meds must’ve faded because the thudding ache felt like Escalus’s knife was still stabbing. He found the ibuprofen bottle and downed four pills with a cup of water. “When a warrior makes himself known to another man, it’s for one of two reasons. He’s being recruited for the brotherhood or marked for future assassination. The fact that Nate is alive means it could’ve been a hallucination.”
“Unless either one of those scenarios hasn’t happened yet.”
Rafe nodded. Truth was nothing if not honest.
“Do you trust Calum Prioleau?” Pete asked.
“Everything Calum does is for the purpose of destroying his enemies and protecting those he loves.”
“And his city. He wants us to finish our mission and get out.”
“That sounds like Calum. He adores Juliet like a sister and would do anything to protect her. With your intel on her lily, he thinks you’re a threat to her as well.”
“What about you? Calum got you out of prison, right?”
Rafe tilted his head.
Pete held up both hands. “I guessed. And I’d love to know how he did it.”
“Piles of money and a sister who’s a U.S. senator.” Rafe went back to the cameras, to the woman in gold. The way she moved seemed…familiar. “If we succeed, we’ll all get what we want.”
“Except for Nate.”
Something in Pete’s voice sounded off, like the low drone of a helo with one engine blown out. “What do you mean?”
“Nate’s seizures?” Pete’s black eyes shone. “They’re not just stealing Nate’s memories. They’re killing him.”
Chapter 13
At eleven thirty, Juliet went into the empty locker room for her break and stashed her tips. Her feet felt numb in the heels, and her back ached. Thank God this day is almost over.
Deke entered and closed the door. “How does it feel to be back, baby?”
She headed for the mirror and shoved pins in her wig. She could do this. No. Was doing this. Except this time on her terms, not Deke’s. “First”—she stabbed another pin—“I’m not your baby. Second, I’m setting the rules.” Finished with her hair, she returned to her locker. It still displayed her stage name. Jade.