Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  Not once, though…not one time in all his years had Jake ever considered that he’d get back and she would be the one gone.

  Ah, Christ. Liv is gone.

  His empty stomach convulsed again, and no amount of training could stop it. Minutes later, when the dry-heaves finally subsided, Jake’s quivering legs managed to take him back to the couch.

  He sank down and rewound the broadcast. As much as he dreaded it, Jake needed all the information he could get before determining his next move.

  Chapter 2

  According to the news, Olivia had traveled to Madagascar a little over a month ago. She’d joined the effort to give medical support to those recently affected by a massive hurricane, which had hit one week prior to their arrival.

  Last week, while preparing to return home, her camp had been ambushed by what authorities were calling ‘local drug runners’. The theory was, they’d been looking for whatever drugs or cash the Americans may have had. The killing was just for fun.

  Jake's teeth ground together painfully. What the hell was she thinking, going into a place as volatile as that? Sure, Madagascar had some beautiful parts, but it also had more than its share of problems.

  From what had been reported, the number of illegal incidents always increased after the often-occurring hurricanes. The more damaging the storm, the higher the crime rate.

  Jesus Christ. Didn’t anyone in the organization she’d been traveling with check this shit out?

  Jake ran his hand over the scruff on his jaw. Damn it, she had no business going there. He then huffed out a breath and shook his head because, despite the danger, it was exactly the type of thing she would’ve done.

  Olivia was an emergency room nurse at Dallas Regional. It was one of the largest and busiest hospitals in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, and she was damn good at her job. Knowing there were hundreds, possibly thousands of people injured or displaced from the storm, and there was a chance she could do something to help? Hell yeah, she’d have wanted to go.

  A sharp chuckle escaped from his throat. Even if Jake had tried to stop her, she’d have put up one hell of a fight. Like her brother, Olivia Bradshaw was stubborn to the core. If someone needed help and she could provide it, there would have been no stopping her. He sure as fuck still would’ve tried.

  One corner of his mouth turned up sadly at the thought. As crazy as it sounded, he would have enjoyed the hell out of that fight. When she was happy, Olivia could light up a room. Angry Olivia? Sexy. As. Hell.

  But she hadn't told him about the trip. Why didn’t she tell me?

  His half-smile slipped as the question entered his thoughts. To be fair, depending on how far in advance she’d known about it, she may not have had the chance.

  Homeland had sent Jake and his team across the globe to save some white-collar stiff, who’d been way too drunk—and too fucking stupid—to not know better than to wander off into hostile territory alone.

  Naturally, the man was abducted and held for ransom. Jake’s team had gone in, rescued the guy, and brought him back home safely. During that same time, Jake had no idea his entire life had been ripped from his hands forever.

  His ringtone blared, startling him. A clue to just how bad off he really was. Looking at his screen, he saw that it was Trevor Matthews, his close friend and second in command. He must have seen the news, too.

  Trevor was the only other member of the team who’d actually met Olivia. Not wanting the dangers associated with his work to touch her, Jake had never intended for her to meet any member of R.I.S.C. Fate had other plans.

  One afternoon, he and Trevor inadvertently found themselves at the same restaurant as Olivia. Pure coincidence, but once she’d spotted them, there’d been no avoiding her.

  At her insistence, the trio ended up sharing a booth. Trevor and Olivia hit it off almost immediately. As with Jake, she didn’t know what Trev really did, but despite Jake’s efforts to keep her separated from that part of his life, the two had quickly become friends.

  His phone rang again, but Jake ignored the call. Part of him felt guilty. Losing Olivia, especially in such a violent manner, would most likely dredge up some nasty shit from Trevor’s past. Jake just didn’t have it in him to console anyone else, right now.

  The ringing stopped. It was quickly followed by a new voicemail notification and then, blessed silence. His respite didn’t last long, though.

  Mac called next, and then Coop. It came as no surprise that his team was reaching out to him. The others may not have met Olivia, but they all knew about her.

  They were aware that he, Olivia, and Mike had all grown up together, and she was like family to him. Jake made it clear from the start that, should something ever happen to him, she was to be taken care of and protected. He just happened to leave out the part about her being the love of his life.

  When the ringing started back up again, Jake was ready to chuck the fucking phone across the room. He stopped himself mid-motion when he saw the caller’s name.

  Derek West was the brains behind R.I.S.C. When it came to digging up intel, there wasn’t anything the man couldn’t find out. Maybe D can help.

  Twisted wheels began to turn, and an idea formed. Ignoring the fact that it clearly stemmed from his grief-driven denial, Jake answered the call.

  “Yeah.” Jake cringed at the sound of his gravelly voice.

  “Boss, I just saw. Was it her? Was it really your Olivia they’re talking about?”

  My Olivia. A sharp pain spread throughout his chest. Blinking quickly, it took him a minute to answer past the knot in his throat. “That’s what they’re saying.”

  A rush of air passed through the phone. “Damn, man. I’m sorry. What can I do?” His southern drawl was thicker than normal, a telling sign of just how pissed off D was at hearing the news.

  Jake knew the guy meant well, but Derek’s sympathy was like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Right now, it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

  “I need you to pull up everything you can find on this. I need to know”—he drew in a steadying breath and cleared his throat—“I need confirmation that she’s really gone.”

  There was a brief pause, and then, “It was her group, boss. I mean, from what they’re sayin’…I know you don’t want to hear it, but—”

  “Damn, it, D, just do it!”

  Jake closed his eyes. He knew his friend was only trying to help, and he felt like a total ass for snapping at Derek like that. But Jake needed this. More than he’d ever needed anything ever before.

  To his credit, Derek didn’t argue or try to placate him. Instead, he said, “I’m on it. Give me an hour. I should be able to find out enough by then.”

  Without another word—mainly because he was precariously close to losing his shit—Jake ended the call and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him. Then, he began to pray.

  Jake wasn’t an overly religious man. Before every job, he’d send up a silent prayer, asking God to keep his team safe, and he always thanked Him when He did.

  Sitting on his couch now, though—elbows on his knees and his head hung low—Jake did more than just pray. He begged.

  He begged God to make this all just a terrible dream. Pleaded with Him to make her be okay. Jake promised anything and everything he could think of, and swore if she were somehow still alive, he’d make things right with her, once and for all.

  He'd come clean about every fucking lie he’d ever told her. His job. His feelings toward her. The entire fucked up situation surrounding her brother’s death…all of it.

  This continued on until the ringing of his phone startled him once more. Glancing at his watch, Jake was surprised to see how much time had passed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering.

  “McQueen.” Damn, he sounded miserable, even to himself.

  “Hey, boss. Sorry it took so long. Had to wait for a few people to call me back. You know how shit like this goes. Tryin’ to get info from government contacts and hack
into certain agency servers isn’t always a walk in the park. Especially when we’re talkin’ about an incident that happened in an entirely different country. Not to mention, the authorities in Madagascar aren’t real cooperative on a good day, and they don’t leave much of an electronic trail, which is most likely done intentionally. So, finding someone willin’ to talk about Americans dyin’ on their soil? You practically have to pry their fuckin’ lips open for any kind of—”

  “Just tell me,” Jake whispered the order, his shattered heart crumbling into a million more pieces.

  An odd sensation began to spread throughout his body, like thousands of needles pricking his skin from the inside out. He felt sick to his soul because D was stalling, which meant whatever he’d found wasn't good. After clearing his throat, Derek gave Jake the dreaded news.

  “Everything I’ve turned up sounds legit. Accordin’ to their ME’s report, the bodies weren’t identifiable due to the, uh…damage.” D paused. “Boss, are you sure you want to hear all of this?”

  Derek was hands-down the smartest man Jake knew, but he was also one of the most emotional. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, so knowing he was tearing Jake’s world apart couldn’t be easy for him.

  “Go on.”

  There was another short pause before Derek began again. “Also, and this is total bullshit in my opinion, the assholes went ahead and finished crematin’ what was left of the volunteers’ remains. They claimed it was for easier transport back to their families.”

  Derek clearly didn’t believe that line any more than Jake did. The authorities there didn’t give a shit about the victims or their families. They were simply covering their asses.

  “So”—D went on—“thanks to whoever gave that particular order, there’s no actual DNA proof.” Derek was quick to add, “But, the count of males and females, the sizes of the initial remains…they all match up, Jake. Add to that the fact that Olivia’s personal items were found at the scene and no one has seen or heard from her since the attack and,” Derek paused again, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, man.”

  Jake didn’t say anything. He just sat there, gripping the phone so hard he was surprised he hadn’t crushed the damn thing. His other hand was in a tight fist, his clipped fingernails digging into his palm, pinching the callused skin there.

  The logical part of Jake’s brain knew he’d been wasting D’s time, not to mention, giving in to a hope he had no business feeling. Denial was an evil bitch, though. Once she got her claws in you, it was hard as fuck to pull them out.

  “Boss? You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Another pause and then, “You gonna to be okay?”

  No. “Yeah.”

  “You, uh…you need anything?”

  Only her. Jake shook his head, so out of it he actually forgot for a second that Derek couldn’t see him.

  “You know, I don’t have anything goin’ on,” Derek kept trying. “I could come over and sit with you or somethin’. We could talk, or go get Hill and blow some shit up, or”—the guy exhaled loudly—“hell, I don’t know, Jake. Whatever you want to…”

  “Thanks, D,” Jake quickly cut him off. “I appreciate you looking into this for me. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Ending the call before his friend could say anything more, Jake tossed the phone aside and lifted his gaze back up to his T.V. The news had moved on to another story, but he only saw Olivia’s face. Could only hear the sweet sound of her laughter. He felt nothing but the warmth of her smile and, for the first time in his life, Jake McQueen was lost.

  He led a team of specially trained operatives who routinely faced some of the world's most violent and deadly criminals. He’d served multiple tours overseas, trudging through swamps and sand and blood, all in the name of God and country.

  Jake was the guy who fought for others’ rights and freedoms, and had dedicated his life to defending those unable to defend themselves. Sitting here now, though, that same guy—the one who always maintained total emotional control—was completely. Fucking. Lost.

  In an instant, Jake’s entire world had tilted on its axis. The most important person in his life was gone, and it was as if she’d taken a part of him with her. Without Olivia, he no longer felt whole.

  An unfamiliar emptiness began seeping through his pores, and it occurred to Jake that he had no fucking clue what to do next. Sleep damn sure wasn’t coming anytime soon, and even though he’d thrown up every ounce of food in his system earlier, the thought of eating anything made him want to puke all over again.

  Jake knew he had to find something to do, though. Otherwise, he’d go fucking insane.

  He glanced over at his phone. Desperate to get his mind on something else—as if that were actually possible—he picked it up. In a feeble attempt to distract himself, he decided to check the voicemails left from the calls he’d ignored earlier.

  The most recent message was from Sean Cooper, one of his team’s two snipers. Jake listened as Coop asked about the story on Liv. That message was followed by the one Mac, his other sniper, had left.

  After those, Jake heard Trevor’s voice growling in his ear, demanding that Jake call him back “A-Fucking-SAP.” The pain and devastation in the other man’s voice was unmistakable, and not at all surprising.

  Trevor had only known Liv a relatively short time, but she’d touched every soul she’d come into contact with. Trev was no exception. Jake knew he should probably give the guy a call, but he was barely keeping his own shit together as it was.

  One by one, Jake deleted the messages. Almost his entire team had called. Everyone except Hill.

  Apart from their missions, Grant Hill—a former SEAL, and the best explosives expert Jake had ever worked with—kept to himself. If he had to guess, Jake would bet his teammate was keeping his distance out of respect for Jake’s privacy, and not because Hill was the uncaring asshole he wanted everyone to think he was.

  Full of restless energy, Jake stood and went to the kitchen. He pulled a second phone from one of the smaller drawers…his personal cell.

  Each team member had two phones. They were both secure lines, but Derek only programed one to use while away on a job, changing the information to fit each specific job or cover as needed.

  They kept their personal phones at home to use on their down time. The only exception was if the job was a simple security systems check or installation, or a bodyguard job within the continental U.S.

  Anything more serious, or if the job took them out of the country, those phones stayed home. If they ever fell into the wrong hands, the information stored on them would put anyone close to them at risk. It wasn’t a fool-proof plan, but the team took every precaution they could to protect the ones they loved.

  Besides his team, less than a handful of people had the number attached to Jake’s personal phone. A couple of important, government contacts. Jason Ryker, the team’s Homeland Security handler. And of course…Olivia.

  Jake also rerouted R.I.S.C.’s office number to this phone when he was out of town. This allowed him to bypass going downtown to the office or the bullshit of calling in and pressing one for this and two for that, later.

  Sitting back down onto the couch, he began listening to the new round of messages, starting with the most recent. The first few were duplicates of the ones his team had left on his work phone. Jake deleted those quickly.

  The next dozen were from people who’d called the office, wanting to hire R.I.S.C. for various jobs. Jake kept those, since right now, his concentration was shit.

  After only partially listening to a half-dozen more, he accepted it was a waste of time. He was in the process of turning the phone off when he saw it.

  His heart shot into his throat as he stared at the name attached to the next voicemail on the list. It was dated two days before Olivia’s group left for Madagascar.

  Normally, he couldn’t wait to hear her voice. This time, however, Jake’s gut churned with dread. Hearing it n
ow would be the ultimate torture, but there was no way in hell he could ignore it.

  Closing his eyes, Jake tried to mentally prepare himself to hear the last words the woman he loved would ever speak to him. Inhaling deeply, he tapped the screen to start the message.

  “Hey, Jake. It’s Olivia.”

  His fingers fumbled miserably, and he nearly dropped the damn phone onto the coffee table while trying to hit pause. His nose burned, and his eyes filled with tears. He bit his bottom lip to stop its quivering as his chest moving in and out in ragged breaths.

  Covering his mouth with his free hand, Jake’s fingertips pressed deeply into the skin of his jaw as he fought to stay in control. God, he hadn’t realized how fucking hard this would be.

  After a few seconds, Jake ordered himself to man the hell up. He restarted the message.

  “Hey, Jake. It’s Olivia. Hadn’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I’d call. I was hoping to see you before I left, but I guess you’re still out saving the world.”

  In spite of the situation, he smiled sadly. Tears fought for release. How many times had Olivia jokingly used those words to describe his job—or what she’d thought was his job? If she’d only known how close to the truth she’d actually been.

  “I wanted to let you know it’s my turn to be out of town for a while. Some doctors and nurses from other hospitals are going to Madagascar, and”—she paused, sounding almost nervous—“I know what you’re thinking. Crazy, right? But, the people there need help, Jake. They asked for volunteers to go, and you know me…always up for a new adventure!”

  Jake could actually hear her smile. He envisioned her eyes lighting up. The quivering in his bottom lip worsened, and the knot in his throat grew exponentially larger. He barely made it through the rest of the message.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I only recently found out about the opportunity, and you’ve been gone. Plus, even if I had known sooner, you would have just tried to talk me out of it, and we both know that never would have worked. I guess this way we can just avoid the entire, pointless argument altogether.” She chuckled and Jake felt as though his heart was being ripped apart, piece by fucking piece.