by Kris Norris
Cannon grunted. “Colt. Stop.”
He glanced at his buddy. Cannon had just returned from the hospital. Two hours later, and more than a bit agitated, but with good news. Jericho had finally convinced the administrator to cooperate—donate a single room to a non-existent Jane Doe, all under the premise of Witness Security. Which had also required a call to Art Collins, her boss. But, the man was trustworthy and willing to give Jericho the benefit of the doubt until she could fully explain. Colt didn’t know if the ruse would buy them any time, but it was better than nothing.
“Stop what?”
“I know that look. You’re running through all the reasons why you need to keep Ellis at arm’s length. Why this is nothing more than another op, when we both know that’s a load of crap.”
“It’s not a load of crap, and it is just another op.”
“Right, because I have to talk you down from the ledge with every case we take. Glad we cleared that up.”
Colt huffed, twisting to face Cannon. “Wanting to exact a bit of revenge on the men who hurt the woman I used to love is understandable.”
“Used to love? That’s what you’re telling yourself? Because we both know you never got over her. And before you lie some more to my face, you should know… You’ve got a tell.”
“I don’t have a fucking tell, jackass.”
“Right. And the corner of Jericho’s mouth doesn’t twitch ever so slightly when she’s hiding something.”
Shit. Jericho’s mouth did do that. It was subtle. Very subtle, but Colt had noticed it, too. Which meant, the bastard wasn’t lying.
A hand on his shoulder as Cannon shuffled a bit closer. “Look, all I’m saying is…there’s obviously a lot that happened back then we aren’t aware of. Because there’s no way she’s only been an operative for a year or two. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if she was always one—one of those plants we all heard about. Gathering intel on Special Forces. Maybe providing names of people they should consider recruiting for their clandestine services—because getting out of bed—grabbing that belt, not to mention wrapping her feet earlier…” He whistled. “The girl’s got some moves. And they weren’t learned as an MI and definitely not overnight.”
“She wasn’t an operative while we were together.” Colt held up his hand. “Trust me. I would have known. But, you’re right. She has some serious skills. Probably would have made it out of the room if we hadn’t come back, though, I’m glad she didn’t. She would have tumbled down the stairs and broken her damn neck.”
“Not that you’re concerned or anything. Want that neck kept in one piece.”
“Fuck off. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“You’ve got it bad for that girl, buddy. But… Go ahead. Keep pretending. I’ll enjoy watching you eat crow, later.”
Cannon chuckled then settled back, seemingly content to sit in silence. Stare at Ellis as if she might disappear. Or was it only Colt who was looking at her like that? Questioning if this was all just an elaborate dream, and he’d wake up any minute, cursing?
A quick pinch to his arm assured him he was awake. That Fate had done her best to screw him over, again. Or maybe she hadn’t finished with him from the last time Ellis had been part of his life. Maybe this was just a continuation of the hurt she’d inflicted before. It didn’t help that Cannon was right. Colt hadn’t gotten over her. Hadn’t come close, and lying to himself—saying he wasn’t still in love with her—wouldn’t change the situation. Make it any more bearable.
Not that he’d give in and admit it. He wasn’t a quitter, and admitting he still had feelings for Ellis Baker—the woman who’d crushed his heart so bad it was still bleeding out with every painful beat—seemed like a dangerous road to venture down with Ellis sleeping in his bed.
The door slivered open. Six peeked inside before entering, followed by Midnight and Rigs—his and his partner’s dog, Blade, trailing beside him. At least, Colt had great backup. He’d been thrilled when the other men had agreed to relocate back to Seattle—that their partners had worked to rekindle old ties or start new ventures to make it possible. Harlequin could barely keep up with her photography company, and being in Seattle meant a lot less travel time for her and Ice. Midnight’s wife, Bridgette, had opened a new legal clinic for abused women in town, and Addison had joined the bomb squad of her old precinct.
Sure, they’d still help out Hank—his organization whenever the other man needed them. All it would take was one phone call, an SOS text. Hell, a damn smoke signal would suffice—but it felt good to have brothers he trusted nearby—watching his back. Helping keep Ellis safe, because if her arrival was any indication of the kind of people she had after her, Colt knew they wouldn’t stop until they’d either been eliminated or gotten her back.
Over his dead body. Bastards wouldn’t put another scratch on her smooth skin. Not as long as he was breathing. He didn’t care if she was trained. If she was a CIA analyst or a field operative. If she could have taken them all down with that old leather belt. He’d sworn an oath to protect his country—those he cared about—and Ellis’ name was at the top of the list. Always would be, regardless of their relationship—their lack of one. Because like it or not, Colt still loved her. Still felt the loss from when she’d left, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d choose to feel that loss, again, over her death. And there was the fact that he’d once promised to protect her. Colt didn’t back out on his promises. Didn’t turn away. If anything, he was loyal to a fault, but he could live with that, even if it meant sucking it up, steering into the hard. And having Ellis in his life without being in his life was going to be the hardest damn thing he’d ever faced, that fucked-up mission in Somalia, included.
Six stopped at the end of the bed, glancing from Ellis over to them. “How is she?”
Cannon snorted. “Other than trying to stumble her way out of here? Armed with a damn belt to boot? She seems to be resting, now.”
“She tried to leave? And did you say she’d armed herself with a belt?” Six whistled. “Damn, Colt. You always could pick ‘em. As I recall, she was pretty feisty back then.”
Colt sighed. “Except, now, she also has the physical skills—not just the brains. You should have seen her. Standing here, barely conscious, yet, looking as if she’d take us all on. Pulled out a couple of stitches in the process.”
Six grimaced. “How’d the big guy take that?”
“I don’t think I want to repeat what Ice said he’d do to us if we allowed her to pull out any more. For a guy whose nickname is Ice, he sure does get fired up over his patients.”
Cannon nodded. “But, seeing as he’s saved all of us at least once, he’s allowed. You guys have any luck tracking where she’d been stashed?”
Six grunted. “Let’s just say her injuries made it pretty damn easy. Even if we hadn’t had Blade along, the trail was disturbingly clear.”
A loud ringing sounded in Colt’s ears as he stared at Six. “Her blood.”
That’s all he could get out and not shout. Race out the door and hunt the bastards down—intel be damned. He’d once cherished every inch of her body, ran his hands along all that smooth, soft skin. Sure, he might never do that, again, but knowing some fuckhead had damaged her—made her bleed…
Cannon’s hand, again. Stronger than before as it gripped his shoulder. “Stand down, buddy. Now isn’t the time. Let’s just listen to what the team found.”
He nodded, knowing anything he said would come out wrong. Colored by the traitorous feelings whirling inside him. He knew all about strategy. Tactics. And he knew charging in without a plan when lives were on the line was bad enough. A necessity, at times. When they weren’t, it was foolish. The kind of stupidity that got good men killed.
But, damn… His freaking head—the one he’d told himself was thoroughly grounded—didn’t seem to care. Filled his mind with all the ways he could even the score a bit. Leave the same damn marks on their bodies. Which was insane. She’d left him. Ma
de it clear he hadn’t meant as much to her as she did to him. He shouldn’t feel this edgy.
No doubt about it. Love was a bitch.
Six waited, watching him as if he could follow Colt’s internal conversation. And maybe the guy could. Knew everything Colt was thinking the moment it popped into his head.
Thankfully, Six shifted his focus to Cannon. “The trail wove its way through a bunch of alleys, where we found these.” He reached into his pocket. Removed a set of keys. “They were beside a bloody handprint. Ellis must have dropped them when her strength started to give out. I’m thinking she grabbed them during her escape. From there, we continued over to Ninety-Nine, then across the water at Eleventh Avenue. There were cameras covering the bridge. Probably how they knew which way she’d initially headed. Took some time to get the pattern down—avoid getting caught on film. I doubt she had the luxury to do that. When we finally tracked down the correct warehouse, it was deserted.”
Cannon frowned. “Deserted? That was pretty damn quick, even for trained dickbags. Unless…”
Six nodded. “Yeah. They’d left a few…surprises behind. Guess they didn’t plan on us having a guy like Rigs, along. Or Blade.”
The dog yipped, tongue lolling out as he leaned against Rigs’ legs. It was easy to see how devoted the canine was to the man. Though, from where Colt was sitting, it was mutual.
Rigs reached down—gave the brute an affectionate scratch behind his ears. “Blade had a damn field day in there. Should be safe enough, now. But, Christ… If some poor soul had set off even one of those bombs, the chain reaction would have leveled half the damn pier. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t seem to care about collateral damage. Though, they’d done a really good job of rigging it to look like a gas main explosion.”
Cannon tapped a finger against his chin. “So, we’re dealing with pros. Men who have a variety of talents in their ranks. Torture. Explosives. Surveillance. Sounds too organized to be a small-time grievance. Which means Ellis stumbled upon something big enough to put her on a very powerful shit list.”
“Would appear so. And you should know. They used C4.”
Cannon muttered under his breath. “You think these guys are ex-military?”
“Could be someone else who bought it on the black market. Or stole it. But my gut’s telling me they’re freaking CIA fuckheads from their Special Operations Group. Though, I’m not sure why they’d be after one of their own.” Rigs looked over at Colt. “We are assuming she’s CIA, right?”
At Colt’s sigh, Rigs shoved his hands in his pocket, glancing back at Cannon. “Anyway, we also need to be prepared for the fallout when that warehouse doesn’t explode. They’ll know they were made, and my money’s on them heading back here, first. I have no idea what kind of traffic that place gets, but I wouldn’t plan on more than a few days. Maybe a week.”
“Agreed. Which means we should increase our vigilance, especially when we don’t know who or what we’re dealing with. Though, this is starting to paint a very ugly picture.” Cannon nodded at Rigs. “I’ll leave you to arrange any…security measures you think we might need. Just…keep them non-lethal, Rigs. At least, for now.”
“Buzzkill. I’m going to ask Addison do some digging. See if she can quietly uncover who owns or rents out that warehouse. The ones surrounding it. I’ll also see if she can get her hands on any CCTV footage from the traffic cams. Not sure it’ll be all that helpful, but it can’t hurt.” Rigs held up his hand. “I know. We need to keep this as far away from Ellis’ name as possible. I’m sure Addy can figure something out. Use her position on the bomb squad to run a few checks through the computer.”
“I still can’t believe you talked her into that. Not that I’m complaining. Having all you guys sign up—I’m a damn lucky SOB.” He cocked his head to one side. “Has Addison figured out your enthusiasm for her new position was just a ploy so you could oversee some of her training? Do some private consulting in order to keep an eye on her? Tag along on some of her calls?”
Rigs grinned. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d do that?”
“Not at all.” Cannon stood. “I’ll go into the Marshal’s office with Jericho in the morning. See if we can discreetly enquire about Ellis’ whereabouts for the past few years. Between us, we have a few sources that could keep any digging under wraps for a bit. If she’s CIA, there should be a record of it somewhere. Might take a while to get the information, though. And I have a bad feeling time isn’t on our side. I also called Hank. Asked if he could spare anyone to give us some additional backup. The way this is heading…we might need the extra muscle.”
Colt nodded. “Who’s he sending?”
“Bastard said he could be here in three days. Guess he’s taking it personally. Ellis moved around quite a bit. Gathered intel for a number of different units. Hank’s SEAL team was one of them during some joint ventures. He’s a bit…upset someone tried to kill her. He also said he might bring a friend along. We’ll find out once he arrives.”
“Good. We need answers, and channeling some anger might be just the ticket necessary to get them.”
“Oh, we’ll get answers. Whoever is behind this can’t hide for long.” Cannon glanced at Ellis then back to Colt. “You want some company watching over her?”
“Nah, I’m good. Ice gave her something to help her sleep. I doubt even her new skills will rouse her ass out of the bed before morning.”
Six took a step closer. “I’ll bring you some coffee. Check in later, in case you need a break. I know you’ve got a…special connection with her, but you’re not alone in this. She helped all of us out in the field. And I’m always happy to give a bit of payback.” He smiled. “Besides, she’s your girl, right? We take that seriously.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need a break. But if she hears you calling her my girl, she might use some of her new moves on you.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“You didn’t see the way she was holding that belt.”
Six laughed then headed out, followed by the others. In the span of five seconds, Colt was alone in the room with Ellis, nothing but her whispered breath to ease the tension bunching his shoulders.
He reran everything Six and Rigs had said, willing his pulse to ease as it kicked up. He never got anxious. Had his body react negatively to stress. Couldn’t have made Delta Force if he had. In fact, part of the selection involved studying a soldier’s physiological responses to combat. Most Spec Op guys had their pulse and blood pressure either stay fixed or go down during a gunfight. Experienced an almost inhuman ability to control the flight or fight response when bullets started flying. And he’d been no exception.
But here he was, sitting in a chair across from Ellis, and his pulse was tapping triple time. Fluttering away beneath his skin as if he’d just finished one of the timed marches during selection.
She did this to him. Had always had a confusing effect on him. He’d initially brushed it off as sexual anticipation. General excitement. But—sex wasn’t on the table, now. And it wasn’t excitement coursing through his veins.
He inched forward, gently sandwiching one of her hands between his. Her skin was cold. That deathly white shade. Slightly clammy. Everything Ice had said it would be, but it still sparked concern in the pit of his stomach. Made him shift the chair closer—place their joined hands in his lap. If he leaned in just a bit more, he could hear her steady breathing better—see her chest rising. Her pulse flutter at the base of her neck.
She really was stunning. Long brown hair—chestnut, he’d once heard someone call it—soft, dainty features. Smooth skin. She was leaner than he remembered. Had a hard edge to her that hadn’t been there before. Both most likely from endless training. But regardless, the woman was beyond beautiful. And he couldn’t stop from tracing his fingertip down her cheek—brushing away a smear of dirt on her jaw.
He couldn’t imagine what she’d discovered to get her in this much trouble. Why her company—her damn boss—hadn’t
been scrounging the area searching for her. Surely, they’d noticed she was missing? Jericho had been right. Ice had confirmed Ellis had been held for at least three days based on the ligature marks. The extent of dehydration. Possibly five. Hadn’t her colleagues noticed her missing? Had they tried to contact her? And what had they done when they hadn’t been able to reach her? When the messages had gone unanswered?
Well, she had people who’d fucking watch her back, now. Who wouldn’t let five minutes go by without ensuring she was okay, let alone five days. And with Hank joining in, they’d uncover whoever had hurt her. Wanted her dead.
And they’d turn the tables on the bastards. Take the war to them. These people might have trained to fight, to kill, but they hadn’t trained for war. Not the way he and his team had. And this was one battle Colt wasn’t going to lose.
Chapter 6
“Hey, sunshine. Think you could open your eyes for me?”
Ellis blinked, the low voice chasing away the darkness as she allowed her eyes to focus—settle on the face hovering above her. Blue eyes. Brilliant blue that gleamed in the sun—lit up his face. Had they always been that bright? That damn clear? Or had she had blinders on, before?
She definitely hadn’t fully appreciated what she’d had—how lucky she’d been to have Brett in her life. A fact she’d discovered with painful clarity once it had been ripped away. Losing friends and family had hurt.
Losing Brett had been life-altering.
Brett, or did he go strictly by Colt, now? Because she wasn’t sure she’d heard any of the other men say his real name. Not that she remembered much. More like ghostly whispers whenever they’d roused her to check on her condition before letting her fade, again. She’d have to pay attention—get it right because she’d lost the privilege of calling him anything special.