LIVE BY THE TEAM A TEAM FEAR NOVEL BY CINDY SKAGGS Copyright © 2016 by Cindy Skaggs All Rights Reserved This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please
contact the author: [emailprotected] Edited by Jessa Slade Cover Design and Formatting by L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
To my children. For you, I would drink the Kool-Aid.
TABLE OF CONTENTS Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Acknowledgements About the Author
PROLOGUE Six months ago Ryder shifted through the crowd gathering behind the police barricade. A local news crew panned the scene from a vantage point to his left. In front of him, a young blonde lifted a wide-eyed toddler to her hip, giving the kid a better view. Gunshots fired had turned into a three-ring circus complete with spectators and media crews. Crime scene tape snapped under his fingers before he made the conscious choice to proceed. A uniform cop moved to intercept him, but Ryder stopped him with a glare. Menace was an art form he’d studied for twelve years in the
Army. He knew how to intimidate without a word, without a weapon. Could kill as easily. No one stood between Ryder and his men. Ryder dialed back the tension bunching his shoulders. He scanned the scene, gauging overall mood and readiness. Time didn’t allow for more than superficial recon. A row of patrol cars created a barricade behind which officers lined up, guns drawn. They faced a nondescript ranch house on five acres of hard dirt. A pickup truck was parked under a stand of trees, the only shade for a good ten miles. The shade didn’t help much; it was Texas summer hot. Nervous energy spread like gossip
through the officers on this side of the scene. They were getting trigger-happy the longer the standoff lasted. Jittery men did stupid things. Ryder walked through the line of patrol cars. No one noticed until he placed his body between the police and the scene of the crime. A last line of defense for the soldier in the barricaded house. Expletives exploded behind the cop cars. Ryder let loose a sarcastic grin and turned; sure he had their attention now. He lifted his hands so they didn’t feel compelled to shoot him. The energy in the open field shifted from unease to outright distrust. Sweaty grips tightened on guns. Every eye in the area focused
on Ryder and judged him a million kinds of fool. Ryder met their uncertainty with cool resolve. Today’s mission involved getting PFC Madigan out alive, which put Ryder in the hot seat. Times like this, he missed the adrenaline rush: the increased heart rate, the quicker thinking, and increased energy that presaged a good fight. “Sir, step back,” a male voice spoke into a bullhorn. Ryder shook his head no. He raised his voice for the camera and the crowd. He didn’t need a bullhorn. “I served with the man inside the house. You want this to end peacefully?” He nodded at the camera. “Let me go in and talk to
him.” More expletives before a tall, slender man wearing a ballistics vest stepped to the west end of the barricaded cars. Tall like a Jolly Green, the man’s shadow stretched across the desert, the setting sun casting him in silhouette. Any half-trained soldier coming off a three-day bender could take him out. The soldier trapped in the house qualified as exceptionally trained. Ryder had done the training. Ryder held his position, protecting both sides from bloodshed. “Sheriff,” he guessed, rightly so when the man nodded. “I was on the phone with your suspect when you arrived on scene. We’ve established rapport. Let me go in
before the situation escalates.” It wasn’t a question. Ryder didn’t back down. Another news van pulled up in a billow of dust. The crew jumped out, filming on the fly. A sidebar conversation happened behind the cars while the cameras whirred. Even at sunset, the temps were in the triple digits. The heat factor fueled tempers. Voices raised and lowered with curses and outrage. Standing between the police and their suspect, Ryder didn’t break a sweat. He absorbed the heat, used it to fuel his system. Guns from both sides pointed at him. The police maintained their vigil, while inside, Madigan would do the same, his sole focus on the troops
massing in his front yard. “Mad Dog” Madigan was a weapons specialist. He would have the scene covered. While the sheriff and his men deliberated, Ryder’s backup moved into position through the rear of the house. The phone in his back pocket buzzed with an incoming call. He reached and guns lifted to the top of the cars. His hands stayed steady as he pulled the phone out, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. The voice on the other end reached his ears before the phone did. “Please tell me these reports aren’t live.” The Texas drawl didn’t calm the panic in her voice. He could picture her pretty face, brows raised in frustration.
Her hands fluttering as she spoke. “They’re live.” Regret closed his eyes for a barely perceptible moment. Lauren. He’d told her he had to go help an Army buddy. “This is me helping a friend.” “With guns pointed at you?” “Sometimes, that’s what it takes, baby. I gotta go.” “Ryder—” He clicked off and dialed Madigan. The call connected without a word spoken. The soldier’s breathing pattern was high and erratic, which concerned Ryder more than the police standoff. Every damn thing about this situation felt wrong. None of this sh*t was the way they were trained. Hell, Ryder would
have sworn emotion had been beaten out of them until he heard the sob on the other end of the line. “This is bad, Ryder.” “No sh*t.” He kept his tone low and measured, aware of the audience. “Do you think—” “I’m coming in whether they let me or not. Keep it holstered.” He pocketed the phone and looked across the yard to the sheriff. The other man’s gaze hid in twilight shadows, but his stance read more relaxed than the rest of his men. “Sheriff, I have him on the phone. This is your one chance to end this standoff without bloodshed.” “How do I know you’re not taking another weapon inside?”
The smirk came natural to Ryder. Who was the sheriff kidding? Madigan stockpiled enough weaponry to start a civil war. The cache of weapons was what kept the sheriff’s men hunkered down instead of going inside. Ryder lifted his shirt and turned slowly, he even smiled for the cameras as he proved he wasn’t armed or dangerous. Well, the dangerous part was open for interpretation. “I’m not losing another soldier, Sheriff. That’s a promise I made my men when we came back.” There wasn’t a soldier alive who didn’t know the odds. Twenty-two suicides a day. Not today. The words were a prayer. Too bad Ryder had nothing left to believe in or pray to.
Sometimes you had to handle sh*t on your own. “You can shoot me in the back for the cameras if you want, but I’m going in.” He didn’t wait for a response. The dirt shifted under his boots as he spun and headed to the front porch. Ants circled a discarded pizza box on the welcome mat. The stench of rancid cheese hit him as he grabbed the doorknob, which turned easily in his hand. Ryder pushed into the house. Gloom shrouded the entryway. “Close the door.” The voice came from the black void several feet to the right. “Lock it.” “Not my first rodeo,” he said, but
moved to comply. “You hung up on me earlier today, Mad Dog. We didn’t finish our conversation.” They followed a strict protocol. No matter where a soldier lived, if he called, someone came running. No questions. They weren’t going to be part of some f*cked-up statistic. Ryder was geographically closest to Madigan, so he dropped everything, kissed his new wife, and hit the highway. Rose had moved in from the north, and they’d arrived about the same time. “I shouldn’t have called. Shouldn’t have involved you. I woke up—” Another hiccup from a hardened warrior. What the ever-loving hell? “Nightmare?” They happened, and
when they did, they felt real. Sounded real. “I called before I had time to pull my head out.” Madigan’s tone calmed. “Before I could pin down what was real, a sh*tload of cop cars came barreling down the drive. How the f*ck did they know to show up?” “Good question.” Ryder kept his tone slow and easy as he catalogued the surroundings, waiting for his backup to come at Madigan from behind. Ryder was the distraction. They weren’t losing another soldier. “You did the right thing, calling me. That’s the deal. Live by the team.” They might be out of the Army, might be disillusioned and disgraced, but they
were still a f*cking team. “I lost time today, Ry.” Could they still be having side effects after all these months? “How much time?” “Hours.” The anguish in Madigan’s voice turned the dark hall into a black hole. “I’m afraid to turn on the light. Find out what’s real.” “The hell you are.” No fear wasn’t just a motto. “Pack that sh*t up. Concentrate on the situation. Where are Maggie and the baby?” “They’re my life. You know that?” “I do. So let’s end this so you can get back to living.” Sniffling sounded from a corner and Ryder was closer to triangulating
Madigan’s position. He could take him in the murky light, but Madigan’s eyes were already acclimated to the black void. He’d have the upper hand. Darkness was Ryder’s friend, helped him focus, but today, night vision didn’t give him the advantage. Ryder reached to the wall and patted until he hit a switch. He flipped the light. “f*ck.” Madigan shielded his eyes with one hand while the other aimed a gun at Ryder. Where the hell was Ryder’s backup? Rose was supposed to take Madigan from behind, but Mad Dog’s back was now against a wall. Madigan backed himself into a corner looking every bit like his call sign: Mad Dog. A
halo of red hair capped a tall, lean body smeared with war paint. The wild expression on his face surpassed insane. Blood covered Madigan’s hands and bare chest as if he’d painted himself in some twisted ritual. His eyes were dilated. “You on drugs?” Maybe drugs explained the panic that shouldn’t be there. And the lost time. “No.” Madigan scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “At least I don’t think so.” “What does that mean, Mad Dog? You know better than to experiment with that sh*t.” With everything they had had pumped into their systems, even alcohol was a gamble. “I didn’t, not on purpose, Ryder, I
swear, but I woke up with the worst f*cking headache. Disoriented.” They’d all experienced those symptoms at least once. sh*t. “What’s the last thing you remember?” “I went into town to get pizza. Maggie didn’t feel good and the baby was fussy. I thought—” He pounded his forehead with the hand holding the gun. “Why the f*ck can’t I remember?” “What time was that?” “Lunch.” Hours ago. “Your truck’s out front. Do you remember pulling into the drive?” “Yeah.” He pounded the back of his skull into the wall. “Maggie screamed. That’s what I remember. She screamed. I
bolted. God, I can’t believe— I wouldn’t, but I had to, it’s only me in the house. And I’m covered in it.” His voice rose. “They’re my life.” “Calm down.” Something was seriously f*cking wrong, because the soldier stank with fear. Ryder took two measured steps closer. “Stay back.” Madigan lifted a handgun and aimed at center mass. “Don’t take another step.” Ryder paused. “I’m not afraid of dying.” “Neither am I.” Wasn’t that the problem? Keep him talking. “Did Maggie leave you?” “I wish.” Panic lifted his voice.
“Not the way you mean. I don’t remember, but it had to be me.” An unfocused haze covered his eyes in a thin white film. “I’m the only one here, and there’s so much f*cking blood.” “You’re not making any sense.” Two steps closer. “Sitrep,” he barked, demanding a situation report from the soldier. The order snapped Madigan’s shoulders to attention. “They’re dead.” He twisted his bloody hand in front of his hazy eyes as if the five fingers held the answers. “They’re my life.” Seconds later, something in his eyes went hard. Determination replaced the haze, causing a shift in the soldier’s stance. All the training and the mood-
altering modifications clicked into place until Mad Dog metamorphosed into a warrior. Madigan knew how to kill and he’d finally settled on a target. “No,” Ryder ordered. “The pain ends. Right now.” Madigan turned the gun to his head. “No fear.” Ryder launched across the space, but he wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. Blood spatter hit him before exposing the ruined skull of a man Ryder considered a brother. Mad Dog was a soldier, a protector, and a killer. Where did one start and the others begin? Rose barreled down the stairs at the sound of gunfire. “What the f*ck?”
He took in the sight of the fallen soldier. They’d seen death. They’d lost teammates, but they’d never lost one like this. Train a man to kill, take away the fear, and suicide was too damned easy. “Wife and kid are dead,” Rose confirmed. “Bloody f*cking sacrifice. Just like Kandahar.” One of the special teams had turned sad*stic in Kandahar and taken out a local village. Bad press didn’t begin to cover the fallout. The organization reacted swiftly, shutting down the program and denying any and all knowledge. Contracts were severed. Their service records heavily redacted. Overnight, the entire team was out. Out of the military, out of the war, out of the
only life they knew. Team Fear took the fall. Nothing about Mad Dog’s situation could leak. Fallout from a failed government program on U.S. soil would be catastrophic. If the company investigated, retribution would be swift and fatal. “sh*t, Ry—” “I know. Get out,” he ordered. The cops didn’t need to know Rose had been in the house. “Rendezvous at zero three hundred hours. If I’m not there, you go underground.” Rose vanished up the stairs. Outside, some idiot on a bullhorn issued threats he couldn’t hear inside the macabre house of hell.
Ryder leaned against the wall, and then slid down as the world shifted under his feet. Was this what it meant to be fearless?
CHAPTER ONE Present Day “Mister, you lay a hand on me again, I’ll break your wrist.” The soulless son of a Yank taking possession of the townhouse slowly removed his hand from Lauren’s lower back. “No need to lose your temper. I’m not the reason you’re losing your house.” Lauren removed the last key from her keychain. Someone had forced the foreclosure through the system way too fast. If she had any money left, she’d bet it all on the realtor. “My lawyer is going to eat you alive.” Tall and thin, Smythe had to be close to sixty with thinning gray hair and
cowboy boots that were polished. “You don’t need a lawyer, darlin’. There are ways to make your problems disappear.” “I just bet.” Smythe’s fake Southern drawl scratched against her last nerve. She fisted her fingers around the key. “What you need is a man to protect you.” Been there, done that, didn’t want the t-shirt. Impulsively, she had married Ryder before his last deployment eighteen months ago. He’d wanted her to have insurance, to be covered in case something happened to him. Being taken care of was a foreign concept, but he’d worn her down with talk of being a team. Team Ryder. His twelve-month deployment ended early, and the first
four months he’d been back, things had seemed picket-fence perfect. They had bought the townhouse and started painting and fixing and making a home. She cleared the knot in her throat. She knew better than to expect forever. “I could set you up in a nicer condominium in a better part of town. Real nice.” “I like this side of town.” It was close to work and close to the university. Had been close to the army post when proximity had been important. “You could do better.” Smythe finished the final walk-through paperwork, the scratch of the pen reverberating in the empty townhouse. The light dimmed as a cloud covered the
sun outside. In the gloomy kitchen, the walls closed in on Lauren, increasing her breath rate and pulse until she nearly hyperventilated three steps from the back door. She needed out, away from Smythe and the house that was no longer hers. She loosened her grip on the key and tossed it on the countertop where it jangled against the tiles. The ding sounded like the closing bell at the end of a fight, but she didn’t know what happened when the fight ended, when the crowd left and it was just you, bloody and bruised in an empty locker room. The foreclosure broke what was left of her heart. Smythe finished the last box on the
checklist and handed her a pen. She signed and dated. He glanced at the uneven paint line between contractor white and soft beige. “They’ll have to repaint.” Every day for the past six months that unfinished paint job taunted her, a sore blister that time rubbed raw. She and Ryder had never finished. They’d only been in the house for a few months before— “That’s not my problem.” “I could probably get this place for a song,” Smythe bragged. “Set you up right.” Lauren tossed the pen on the counter next to the key. The realtor was the lowest piece of dung on the dung heap. “You offering to be my sugar
daddy?” “If you were nicer, I might let you keep the place another month. See where it goes from there.” “Does that ever work?” Not a chance in hell it would work on her. She’d starve before prostituting herself to the dirty old buzzard. “You’d be surprised. A woman like you needs a man.” Lauren made a line for the front door. Regret followed her through the now empty living room. It had been a hopeful place once. “I have a man.” Liar. “We both know your husband isn’t coming back.” He boxed her against the door, letting a certain part of his anatomy
rub her hip. Fire licked up her spine. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind.” “Yeah.” His breath brushed her hair and surrounded her with the smell of cigarettes and peppermint. “I’m not going to break your wrist.” She shoved him off and followed by ramming the heel of her hand into his weathered face. “I’m going to break your nose.” Blood gushed and he backed away. “Stupid, bitch.” Lauren jerked open the door before he could retaliate. She had surprise on her side, but the man was taller and meaner. “Come near me again, you lowlife son of a carpetbagger, and I’ll
pull out my granddaddy’s castration knife.” She ran the path alone and jumped into her granddaddy’s Ford. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she fought tears. Every good memory of her marriage was in that house. Every bad memory too.
CHAPTER TWO Lauren wanted a hot bath, a glass of wine, and the promise of a good night’s sleep. What she got was country music, a loud dance floor, thirsty patrons, and the promise of six hours wearing cowboy boots and a smile as plastic the beer mugs she carried. Soldiers filled the rustic booth to overflowing. Sunday night and they were ready to party. “What can I get you, gentlemen?” They responded to her synthetic smile with good-natured grins that spoke of youth and a serious lack of problems. They ordered beer and shots—tequila, God help ‘em. “No problem. As soon as I see some ID.” She smiled and winked
to soothe the sting. “It’s Baby Face, isn’t it?” The soldier closest to her asked, pointing to the guy in the corner with whisker-free cheeks. “We get carded every time he’s with us.” “It’s all y’all,” she joked, laying her palm flat for his ID. “Pony up, boys, if you want to drink.” They were loud, but respectful, and barely legal to drink. They looked like babies. Nothing like— Nope. She cut that thought right out of her head. At the bar, she steered past Wade, the cowboy with more hands than a dude ranch, and hit the other end with a seriously bad attitude. “Remind me why I do this?”
The bartender’s lips lifted, showing pretty white teeth and a sarcastic smile. “Because you like to eat.” “It’s a reason.” The boss was gone for the night, so Lauren leaned her backside against an empty barstool. “Not a good one.” Debi chuckled as she filled Lauren’s order. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all week. Finish your story before we get busy. Did you break his nose?” “The hit landed solid, but I was shaking harder than a heifer in an ice storm.” Truth be told, the only thing keeping her rubbery legs from giving out was pure spite. A minute and a block later, and she’d had to pull over as a panic attack turned her vision hazy.
“He got off lightly.” Debi raised her voice over the blaring country music. She pulled two draft beers and set them on Lauren’s tray. “You’re absolutely right. Guys like Smythe are the reason I’m swearing off men.” “I thought your husband was the reason.” “Him too.” “Ryder would have killed Smythe.” Debi added two bottled beers and four shots to the tray. “Speaking of—” “Don’t say his name again.” She hadn’t let herself think or say his name in months. “Okay, if that’s how you want to be.” Debi gestured with her head, the
move subtle. “Because he who shall not be named is standing there large as life.” Lauren’s heart skipped as everything froze. Silence wrapped her in a bubble that stopped time. The music silenced and the crowd noise dropped. The barstool swiveled as she— Debi grabbed her arm and lashed her into place. “Don’t look.” Right. Don’t look, because he’d left without a word. Dropped off the planet. He didn’t deserve the thunder in her chest, the nearly impossible pull to turn and drink him in. “I’m not even tempted.” Debi laughed and sound whooshed back—the music, the clank of pool balls, the raucous voices—roared into her
head and drowned all thoughts. An image formed, unbidden. The absent smile on his hard face, the quick kiss and go in the kitchen before he ran to help a friend. Be back soon. Nope. Thoughts were there after all. The memory of the standoff aggravated what she suspected was the start of an ulcer. The television news stole her focus that day, as paint dried on the rollers and brushes of their unfinished project. Ryder had looked like a complete badass walking through the police barricade. When he’d lifted his shirt to show he wasn’t armed, he’d revealed hard-packed flesh she had once considered hers.
When gunfire had sounded inside the house, she’d feared Ryder was dead. Impossible because Ryder was invincible. The onsite reporter had drawn out the agony until the camera showed him exit the building behind uniformed police, looking like he had the first day after his last deployment. Eyes dead, posture slumped, movements slow. Losing Madigan had knocked something loose in Ryder’s psyche, and rather than come home, he’d taken a walk. He took a piece of her with him, one she wouldn’t get back and maybe didn’t want. She wasn’t the same girl, didn’t want picket fences and forever. No, she was more like her mother now. Broken, because she knew forever didn’t
exist. Her mother was the widow of a soldier, and she’d never been the same after his death. She’d never dated as far as Lauren knew. Lauren wasn’t going down that road. Life did not stop when a man went away. Grieving was a natural part of the process, so she’d mourned Ryder until she couldn’t cry another tear or wish another impossible dream. And then she’d sucked it up and returned to the land of the living. Debi rubbed her arm. “You okay?” “It couldn’t get much worse.” “Sure it could.” Debi lifted her gaze to the ceiling as if giving it great thought. “If the man who broke your heart showed up with another woman.”
That did it. “I’ll kill him.” “Stop.” Debi dug her nails into Lauren’s arm. “I was just showing you, it could always be worse.” “Great freaking joke.” The thunder in her chest matched the music. “Maybe I should kill you instead.” “You could, but then you wouldn’t have a place to sleep tonight.” “Jail.” Lauren’s heart still pounded at the mere thought of Ryder finding another woman to love. “In jail, I’d get three meals a day and a cot.” “There’s the gallows humor I know and love.” Debi patted her arm. “You want me to call in a replacement?” “No. Sunday tips are usually my best. I can handle it.” Sure. Despite the
ache in her chest, Lauren struggled to act like she didn’t know who stood on the other side of the bar. Ryder was as sleek as a panther with dark hair, dark eyes, and a darker soul. He met every single checkbox on her fall-in-love checklist— including emotionally unavailable—and she’d fallen before common sense could talk her out of something as reckless as loving a soldier. The past few months had taught her a few lessons, losing their house taught her another, so when she turned to face her husband in name only, she wore her happy-assed waitress face. Yep, still good-looking as sin. Ryder wore black leather now, as if he wasn’t enough of a bad boy before. The
military cut had grown out, leaving his hair a dark mass of curls that drew her fingers. Lauren tightened her grip on the tray. She ignored his nod and the fluttering pulse in her throat. Instead, she delivered drinks to the booth filled with the soldiers from the post. Lauren hit the next booth with a smile. “Hey, Professor.” The petite redhead was a student in one of Lauren’s advanced history classes. They thought it was fun to harass their instructor afterhours at the bar. “Anna, what can I get you?” Anna smiled, showing a dimple in a baby face that hid a wicked sense of humor. “Beers all around.”
The girl next to Anna shook her head. “Designated driver, so I’ll have a coffee.” “Draw the short straw again, Beth?” “It is my cross to bear. One of these days, I’m going home with one of those.” Beth gestured at the soldiers in the next booth. “And these losers can catch a cab ride home.” At the idea of taking a soldier home, Lauren lifted her gaze, unerringly finding Ryder. His gaze locked onto hers and the temperature in the bar went up ten degrees. Feeling the flush down bare legs to the tips of her steel-toed boots, she turned back to the booth. “Good luck with that,” she told Beth. “Coffee’s on
the house.” Debi was filling another order, so Lauren moved around to pour coffee. “Three drafts,” she told Debi. “You going to ignore Ryder all night?” This time Lauren resisted the pull of his magnetic gaze. “He left me.” Traffic in the bar had picked up, filling more tables and raising the crowd volume several decibels. Debi pulled the drafts while talking. “Don’t you want to know why?” Yes. But talking to Ryder was more punishment than pleasure. “No.” Lauren grabbed the mugs of beer and placed them on the tray next to the coffee. “He can’t just show up at my work and
expect—” “Better here than the university.” Lauren groaned. Dr. Crawford was looking for an excuse to pull her from the PhD program. When the head of the history department had discovered she worked the late shift at the local watering hole, as he called it, he’d flipped a lid. He’d been finding extra work for her ever since. There wasn’t a task menial enough in his mind, but what the hell did he want from her? A girl had to eat, and teaching only covered the cost of tuition. Debi mixed drinks for the waitress on the other end of the bar, which freed Lauren from a conversation she didn’t want. Maybe she should act like a
grownup and talk to Ryder, but she didn’t feel like a grownup. In fact, this was a sucky week to be an adult. She would pay good money to live like a carefree undergrad, cramped in a booth with nothing on her mind but boys and booze. Lauren worked the room, covering her tables and avoiding Ryder who had taken a seat in a shadowy corner near the emergency exit. In the past, she’d romanticized those behaviors like he was a lone wolf watching his back, but she was done lying to herself. The need for a wall at his back was awareness born of experience. He’d fought—long and hard—for his country, and the paranoia was a natural byproduct, but
the real problem predated the military. Ryder needed an emergency exit. In all places and situations. Six months ago, he’d taken the exit at the speed of grand theft auto. The lone wolf image wasn’t romantic anymore. Lauren released the tension in her neck before making another round through her tables. When she got back to the soldiers, they bought a round of shots for the undergrads. Shocker. The girls grinned when Lauren brought the tray. “Compliments of the gentlemen next door.” She gestured to the next booth. “If you’re taking a shot,” she said to the designated driver, “I get the keys. If you don’t have another drink, I’ll give them back in an hour.”
Beth knew the drill. Lauren was protective of her students, even when they were off campus and not technically her responsibility. Beth handed over the keys, which Lauren pocketed. The girls took the shots with a squeal of highenergy laughter, before leaning over the back of the booth to thank the soldiers. Moments later, the entire gaggle headed to the packed dance floor. The melancholy country song rubbed a raw nerve as Lauren bussed a table and set up a new round for a group who came in after the movies. Wade, the frisky cowboy from the bar, moved to sit in her section. He wore tight Wrangler’s on his lean frame and a thick leather belt holding it all together in a fine looking
package. The rancher was close to her age with the build of a cowboy and the heart of a poet. Lauren stiffened her spine. “What can I get you, Wade?” “Your number.” The dimples used to do it for her, add in blond hair and a Texas twang, and he was just about perfect. Here was a man who would stick, but he’d made a nuisance of himself the last few weeks, badgering her to go out with him. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” he said with a wink. Lauren ran a thumb over the groove where her wedding ring belonged. “Don’t read anything into it, Wade. What can I get you from the bar?” “Long neck.”
The moment the words left his lips, she hightailed it to the bar, grabbing the bottle of beer while Debi mixed a drink. She took the beer back and avoided his grabby hands. In the corner, Ryder glared, but Lauren shook her head no. The last thing she needed was a fight. If she lost this job, she’d be starving as well as homeless. One more semester. She’d sacrificed a normal life to get her doctorate. Fate would not be so cruel as to take it from her now. Lauren lost track of Wade and Ryder as the one-more-for-the-road crowd showed, fighting for every last minute of the weekend. Every seat in her section filled, except for the empty seat across from Wade, which she kept
between her and Wade at all times. He was an affable drunk most nights, but when one beer turned to three, a wise woman used all the barriers she could find. Her red cowboy boots started to squeeze her tired feet, but she worked through her break, racking up tips and keeping her brain too busy to think. Maneuvering through the tables with a full tray, Lauren took a direct route through the center of the bar, and didn’t think twice about it until Wade ran a hand over her barely clad backside. Dang. She’d forgotten to bypass his table. Lauren jumped, nearly dumping the tray onto the next table. Across the room, Ryder stood. She heard the quick
screech of the chair legs against the wood floor. Or maybe she was simply that aware. So. Not. Good.
CHAPTER THREE Lauren delivered the drinks with all the grace of a newborn calf. The rage on Ryder’s face sent her on a collision course with disaster. She intercepted him five steps from Wade. “I’m taking my break,” she hollered at Debi. Not waiting for a response, Lauren used her tray to back Ryder away from the crowd like a rancher with a cattle prod. Actually touching him was much too tempting. He let her push him into the back hall by the manager’s office. “What are you doing here?” “What I’m about to do is teach a cowboy some manners. No one lays a hand on my woman.”
Her traitorous heart did a loop-theloop in her chest. The possessive tone used to get her juices flowing. She’d liked being his woman, once upon a time. Lauren positioned her body between Ryder and his quarry. “You’ve lost the right to go all caveman protective.” He backed away as if she’d whacked him with the tray. “You’re still my wife.” “That can be remedied.” Not the time or the place. Lauren herded him deeper into the hall so their conversation didn’t become a public spectacle. “You’re still mine, Lauren,” he said, his tone low and reasonable. The reasonableness pushed her over the
edge. The last thing she needed was her estranged husband mucking up her life even more. “Honey, you can’t call dibs on a human being.” Her tone rose high enough to shatter glass. “Like calling something mine makes it so, because if it did, I’d be driving around town in a Porsche instead of Granddaddy’s broken down Ford. Ain’t nothing here that was yours.” Using the tray, she backed him against the office door. “Anything you left behind is at the DAV thrift store. They put a price tag on things, and let me tell you, yours wasn’t worth much.” “I—” “No. I don’t want to hear it.” She punctuated the words by stabbing a
finger into his chest, the solid, muscular flesh tempting her like a shoe store clearance sale. “Damn you and the horse you rode in on, Ryder.” Hysteria stole the force from her words. Tears shimmered so it was like looking through a storm cloud. “I thought you were dead.” He wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her into his warmth, the tray clattering to the ground. She resisted, stood stiff with her palms braced against him, pushing away like an angry cat, her claws digging into his drool-worthy pecs. “I was dead without you,” he said, his tone as rough as a dried-up creek bed. The texture of his voice put her in the mood for hot sex on
a cold winter night. Kill me now. The man knew how to push her buttons with his practiced moves and smooth words and a deep voice that zipped desire straight to her underpants. Lauren’s claws retracted and her body softened against his, even as her mind argued against forgiveness. “Love is an action word, Ryder. Your sweet words don’t buy you a pass.” Lauren shook her head to clear the emotional storm. “Not this time—” “Yes.” Raw need swelled in his gravelly voice, the sound hitting below the belt. He was a walking fantasy and she was all too familiar with his ability to blow her mind, but her wounded pride
demanded she grow a pair. Lauren twisted to leave—honest to God, her mind was made up—but it was like her boots were nailed to the floor. She couldn’t step, slide, or scoot. Silence stretched. He waited, gave her time to get the hell out of Dodge. The temperature in the hall flashed hot and his grip on her hips turned to fire. He lowered his head, inch by arrogant inch, until the day’s growth of beard on his strong jaw, his tortured moan, and the smell of leather were all that mattered. Lauren burrowed past the damn leather jacket and fisted a hand on the side of his t-shirt. Her knuckles brushed the warm skin underneath. She held tight
to the thin cotton to keep her hands from straying. The second he lowered his head she was lost. Her heartbeat filled the pause, thundering with need and fear and desire. His breath brushed her lips and her heart whispered a soft welcome home. God, how could she stop when she wanted him more than air? Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on her. The sensible Dr. Jekyll wanted her to walk, while the crazy but dominant Mrs. Hyde pushed her closer to Ryder’s firm flesh. Her eyes squeezed closed. The smooth velvet of his skin covered muscles she’d only dreamed about before he’d walked into her life. The strength and the heat tempted her to
forgive and forget. The music stopped, a long pause while the song switched and the scratch of empty air hit like the moment before you fell. The hitch in her heart, the breathlessness, the potential for soaring heights and staggering lows. Lauren had already fallen. Ryder was so much more than toned muscles and washboard abs, more than hot nights and moonlit walks. Moisture hit her lashes, but she squeezed the tears dry. He had been her everything. The music resumed, moving into a slow song so sad her heart seized. Right or wrong didn’t hold sway when Ryder’s spicy scent reminded her of better days.
“God, you smell good,” she complained. Leather blended with the smoky scent she’d associated with him from day one. He’d come up to her in this very bar. He hadn’t had a lick to drink. He never did. That night, he’d called her ma’am. She sighed against his neck. Somehow, she’d forgotten how he’d seemed so polite, so polished, so very, very persistent. The memory brought a melancholy smile to her lips. He’d asked her to coffee after work. Even then, her head and heart had disagreed, but Hyde had won the first night as well as tonight. She’d thought no way and said yes instead. Their first coffee had turned to breakfast at an all-night diner. They
talked about everything and nothing. He was a military brat too, so they’d had that in common. In his entire life, he’d never lived more than three years in one place. He had no discernable accent, no annoying hometown. The bleakness of his nomadic life rubbed her like a burr. Texas had been home as long as she could remember. She couldn’t imagine living without geographic connection. At the time, he had laughed off her concern. No, he hadn’t wanted her pity. Still didn’t. He’d been sweet and sincere that first night, and before she knew it, she had to rush off to teach class wearing the previous night’s clothes. Looking back was like putting a puzzle together without all the pieces.
Everything about their courtship had been perfect, and they’d jumped past the I-dos and into the honeymoon, but the missing pieces kept the picture from ever being complete. The memories and the magic of what might have been were the reason she’d stopped thinking or saying his name. While her mind wandered on the scent of his cologne, Ryder shifted them into a slow dance. His warm body swayed to the music with a soft hum in her ear that was the cruelest sort of torment. She resisted memories of their first kiss in the quad on campus. Their last kiss in the kitchen. The first time they’d made love and their last. Tears won the night—ruined her
makeup and her resolve—but she didn’t brush them away. Her arms wouldn’t let go of her husband. “I hate you,” she whispered. “I know.” Gently, he brushed his lips across hers. The kiss started tentative, like the first time when he hadn’t wanted to spook her. It was a gentle brush to remind her of the feel of him. The taste. The heartbreaking glide into desire so strong she had to bite back a moan. His lips teased hers, seducing her into the kiss the same as he had the slow dance. She wanted more than a tease. Consequences be damned. She sucked his lower lip between hers and pulled. The tug sparked all the way to her core,
and Ryder stiffened in response. Desire had always flashed hot and fast between them. He tangled his fingers in her hair, sending delicious spikes down her spine. Her nipples hardened, and he’d barely touched her. “Lauren.” So much pain in one word. So much hunger. A spark lit his eyes and her body responded like Pavlov’s freaking dog. Passion coursed from him to her in a heartbeat. He swiped his tongue over her lower lip and she opened to his invasion, ready and oh so willing, but he didn’t invade. She groaned in protest, but he kept on, tasting and sampling like a man who hadn’t eaten in six months. The warmth
she remembered. The desperation was new. Both hands dove into her hair, tilting her head and controlling every move. He held on like life hung in the balance. Maybe it did. The same desperation fed her as she climbed him and wrapped her ankles behind his back. She bit his lower lip, because God help her, she wanted the heated battle. Tonight, Mrs. Hyde won fair and square. Jekyll could pick up the pieces in the morning. The heat of Ryder’s skin burned through her cutoff shorts as he palmed her backside. Her brain short-circuited. He danced her back against the door, kissed away her tears, swallowed her
breath, and possessed her very soul. His big hands rocked her core against his hard length. They both moaned. Heaven and hell. Enough and not nearly enough. He bit her earlobe. “This is why I couldn’t stay away.” Hel-lo. The words slapped her numb brain. Making out with Ryder in the dark back hall might feel good now, but there’d be hell to pay in the morning. Dang. Looked like Jekyll was going to win after all. Lauren pulled her head from his grasp. “What?” Ryder ran his nose along her throat, trailing kisses and long licks. “So soft. So sweet. You haunt me.” “I’m not a ghost.” Against her better judgment, she titled her head to
give him access. “Definitely not.” He chuckled against her throat and the vibrations traveled along nerves straight to her core. “Finally flesh and blood in my hands.” She arched into his shaft, nearly cried with hunger. He kneaded her bare skin, sending rivers of heat to her groin. “So good,” she moaned, but not good enough to forgive and forget. He’d been foolish to remind her. He’d left her. Ryder—the man who swore up and down that she was his soul mate—had disappeared without a trace. “Why did you?” The tips of his fingertips explored under the cuff of her shorts, finding her
wet. “Why did I what?” What was the question? His touch fried her brain. “Why did you leave?” “To check on the team.” The words inflicted pain. The team came first. The heat flowing through her veins cooled. The next words fought their way up her tight throat. “Why did you come back?” The exploring fingers stilled against her heat. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I can’t stay away.” Hope bloomed. Maybe he’d stay. “And if you could leave?” “I will leave.” His lips twisted. The anguish in his dark green eyes hinted at an internal struggle. “You’re safer without me.”
The hazy fog of desire could not survive those fatal words. Lauren unlatched her legs from his strong hips. He had the power to hold her against her will, but he released his grip and she dropped with a thud, the scud of her boots sounding as hollow as her heart. The music picked up to a faster tune, drowning all but one thought. She had to get away from him before he broke her heart for good. The temptation still existed, grown crazier and more allencompassing with time, but nothing substantial had changed simply because he’d returned to El Paso. Their problems remained. “I have to go. They’ll be thirsty.” “We’re not done talking.”
“Yes we are.” She pushed against his chest, determined to dislodge him. He gave way to let her past. “We need to talk. At home.” “No, it’s—” “Yes.” Determination sat in the hard line of his jaw, a look she’d never won against as often as she’d tried. Ryder did things his way, always had. “I’ll meet you there after work.” Lauren bit her tongue to keep from warning him. Let him go back to their house to see what his desertion had wrought. Shoulders slumped, she returned to her tables and hoped for oblivion. The night stayed busy enough to numb the pain. At last call, Beth asked for her car keys back. Lauren looked at
her watch. The tequila shot with the soldiers was hours ago. “Not going to make them walk home?” Lauren asked, reminding Beth of her threat to go home with one of the guys from post. The soldiers had stuck pretty tight to the coeds. Beth shook out her sassy hair. “I’m not that easy, Professor.” The girls laughed and teased each other on the way out the door, oblivious to the stab of torment Beth’s words had caused. I’m not that easy. But Lauren had been. She’d nearly given herself to Ryder in the back hall of the bar. No wonder he thought he could disappear and reappear at will. Nothing about her response to
Ryder made any sense. She wasn’t easy, she didn’t take guys home from the bar, and she’d never let a man stand in the way of her dreams. Come hell or high water, she was finishing her degree. Her mom may have killed herself waiting tables in this town, but no way in hell was Lauren making the same mistake, but Ryder’s pursuit had been heady stuff. She was a dorky history student and he was the complete package: smart, sexy, and steamy hot in the sack. He could have anyone, but he’d chased her with single-minded purpose. She’d never stopped to ask why he pursued her. Now she wanted to know why he’d left. Was it the situation with Madigan? Lauren released the anger with a
harsh shake of her head, because under the anger was a tractor full of regret and self-loathing. After watching her mom deal with the grief, Lauren had still married a soldier. Debi turned the music off, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Most of Lauren’s customers had gone, except the soldiers in the corner booth. “I know y’all aren’t sober enough to drive.” “We’ll take a cab to the post,” Baby Face said. “Don’t worry, ma’am.” Lauren waited until the soldiers packed into a cab before locking the door. “My feet are killing me and my smile muscle is broken,” she said to the bartender. “Remind me again why I do this?”
“Because you’re too proud for the soup kitchen.” Debi wiped the bar as Lauren took a seat on the nearest barstool. “You’re no fun. As my best friend, you’re required to listen to me whine and moan while you nod in support.” “Honey, my night’s been as long as yours.” Lauren shrugged. “At least you get to wear jeans.” The skimpy shorts and tight tops were the new owner’s idea of renovation. To be fair, her tips had doubled since the uniform change, so she wouldn’t complain. Too loudly, anyway. “You want me to wait around?” “Nah, you’re off the clock. I’ll see you at home.” Debi was letting Lauren
crash at her house until the end of the semester. Lauren slipped on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before venturing into the cold night. Her powder blue Ford was the last vehicle in the lot. With a long look around to make sure she was alone, she hurried to the pickup. Twisting the key in the lock, she jumped behind the wheel. “Want to tell me why you’re selling our home?” Lauren clutched her chest. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.” Ryder leaned across the bench seat, his eyes as hard as any gemstone. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart. Start talking.”
CHAPTER FOUR The FOR SALE sign in front of their townhouse lit a fuse under Ryder’s ass. The past month, he’d been making his way home. He needed to cut her loose before he dragged her into his dark world. And even knowing what he had to do, the idea of her leaving him— hooking up with some cowboy and setting up house—shot a flaming fist into his gut. “It takes two to sell a house, sweetheart.” “Don’t use that tone with me, you arrogant ass. What did you think was going to happen? Time did not stand still because Staff Sergeant too-cool-for-afirst-name Ryder took a walk to clear
his freaking head. The rest of the world moved on.” The sooner she got over the idea of moving on, the better. The way she’d kissed him back at the bar, the way her tight ass fit his hands, was proof positive she belonged to him. Period. “You can’t sell without me.” Lauren’s brows shot up, creating wrinkles in her forehead. Her voice lifted an octave, a sure sign of her temper. “You think this was my idea? Honey, the bank didn’t give me a choice.” The words sucker punched him, stealing his rage. “What are you talking about?” “I’m a student. I don’t have the
money to pay a mortgage. I tried to keep up, but I lost a huge chunk of financial aid when we married. I couldn’t keep the house and finish the program. The man I thought I married knew that.” Ryder ran a hand over the back of his neck. There were too many landmines in her angry rant, but before he tripped his way through the field, he needed to make one thing crystal clear. “I wasn’t running from you.” Lauren twisted the key and the truck coughed to life. She quickly shifted the floor-mounted gearshift into neutral. “Whatever, Ryder. Get out of the truck. It’s late, I’m cold, and we’re not solving anything tonight.” “We are not finished.” He needed
her to know. He supported her dreams. Fact was, he was in awe of her drive and intelligence, and had been from day one. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Get. Out.” Ryder couldn’t leave like this. She was hurt. Her tears back in the bar had wrecked him. He couldn’t let her leave thinking he’d been cold and callous. “Make me.” She slumped over the steering wheel to rest her forehead on the top rim. With her face hidden behind her arms, her shoulders shook. A knot formed in his gut. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, although he’d probably done that and more by leaving. He
reached out, but stopped when hysterical laughter filled the cab. “Make you? God, Ryder, what are you, twelve?” The hand reaching for her stopped. “No?” The answer sent her into another spasm of laughter. She lifted her head and light from the dash reflected in her watery eyes. “You’re not sure?” The swift change in her mood made him pause. “Have you been drinking?” She rolled her eyes before running a finger under her lashes to wipe away tears. Laughter and tears? “No, of course I haven’t been drinking. Have you?” “Of course not.” He’d given up anything and everything that altered his mood, his focus, or his control. Although
he’d kept Lauren, and she did all three. “Baby, no way would I leave you high and dry. I paid the mortgage every month.” Her shoulder blades slapped the cold seat as she leaned back. “No you didn’t.” “Did. Why do you say the bank’s making you sell?” “Because they are. They did. I signed the paperwork last week.” A warning shot through him. Something hinky was about to shake down. “Baby, I used bill pay direct from my account. I have the receipts. I paid every month.” “But, Ry—” A sharp rap pounded against the
window. Lauren jumped and Ryder reached for the gun he had holstered under his leather jacket. Lauren’s best friend Debi waved a light into the cab of the truck. “Everything okay?” Debi continued to flicker the flashlight at them. Ryder settled the gun back in its holster. Lauren cranked the window down. “Yeah, just...” She shrugged her shoulders. Debi shot the light straight in Ryder’s face. “Do you mind?” he asked, blocking the glare. “I don’t mind at all,” she deadpanned. “Lauren, why don’t you
ride home with me? I’ll bring you back before classes in the morning.” “I’m not going to hurt my wife,” he growled. “You already did, buddy.” “Stop it.” Lauren grabbed the flashlight and forced the torch downward. “I’m fine. Debi, go home. I’ll be along shortly.” “Fine.” She shone the light on Ryder again. “Anything happens to her, and I’m coming for you, soldier boy.” Lauren cranked her window up while Debi disappeared around the corner of the building. “I’m not joking, Ryder. Time for you to go. I’ve got an early class and if I’m late, Professor Crawford will have me grading papers
until I’m ninety.” “I can talk to him.” “Not everything gets better with threats and intimidation.” She groaned. They’d had this conversation before. “The academic world doesn’t work like the Army. I can handle Dr. Crawford on my own, thank you very much, same as I’ve always done.” She glanced around the empty parking lot. “Where’s your car?” “Sold it.” “How did you get here?” “My bike’s out front.” “As in a motorcycle?” She shook her head, and her shoulders slumped in weary defeat. “Jesus, Ry, maybe you are twelve. Are you having a midlife crisis
or something?” “I’m not that old. Or young.” Whatever she was accusing him of had nothing to do with the sh*t hanging over his head. “We need to talk about the house.” “Not tonight.” She reached over him, her body brushing his as she pulled the handle to pop the passenger door open. “It’s late.” The exhaustion clinging to her effectively paused the conversation. He wanted to finish, but she’d obviously had a long day. “I’ll follow you home.” “We can’t go home, Ryder. They’ve changed the locks.” f*ck, but he’d messed up and good. He hadn’t expected life to spiral out of
control, and as much as he wanted to work it out right now—at least the banking issues—Lauren needed sleep. “Where are you staying?” “With Debi.” She swallowed a quick breath. “And before you say anything, you are not, under any circ*mstances, staying.” “If you say so.” For tonight he’d keep watch over her from outside. Maybe Debi had a dog house he could sleep in. “I’ll follow, make sure you get there safe.” The gaze leveled at him was unyielding. “I’ve made it home safe and sound without you to babysit. It’s a little late for fake acts of chivalry.” Ryder rubbed his chest. As barbs
went, that one struck deep. He’d had reason to leave. Mad Dog’s situation was the tip of the spear. In his head, Ryder could still hear the soldier. They’re my life. Fear, actual fear had tightened Madigan’s voice as he spoke, looking at his bloody hands in denial. No way had Madigan wanted to kill his wife and kid, but they were dead all the same. “Your safety is my priority.” “Whatever.” Lauren turned up the volume on the radio, shutting out any reply he might give. He stepped out of the truck. “Lock it.” She didn’t respond, but cranked the gearshift into reverse. The gears groaned. The pickup had been her
grandfather’s ranch truck and had been ancient when the old man gave it to her. It was a rusted hunk of metal, and no one had been around to keep it maintained. He’d look at it tomorrow whether she liked it or not. Lauren didn’t wait for his commentary. She was out of the parking lot and down the street before he made it to his bike. He pulled on the helmet to follow. Good thing he knew the route, because she lost him but quick. They were on the main road out of town before he caught up to her. The rusty truck spit enough exhaust to follow a mile back. Traffic on the state highway on the way to Debi’s was clear this late, but
cold bit his face as he raced to keep up with Lauren. She had to be in a pissy mood to speed. So was he. Something bad was going down with the team. He’d spent the last six months traveling the country, checking in with his teammates. He was afraid seeing him would trigger memories best left forgotten, so he had stayed on the sidelines, but it was a damn lonely existence as he witnessed friend after friend withdrawing from the world. They were breaking connections from friends, family, and community. Rightly so. What had happened with Mad Dog was reason enough to stay away from Lauren. He’d planned to break it off with
her, let her go for good, so he met her in a public place where he wouldn’t be tempted. The best thing for her was a clean break, one guaranteed to keep her safe from him and the mess following him, but the minute he was alone with her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. The cold and the roar of the bike provided the perspective he needed. Lauren was smart, sexy, and sarcastic. And passionate. She could talk for hours on the topics she was most passionate about, and at one time, her passion had been building a life and a home with him. The townhouse meant nothing, but the look in her eyes as she planned their home, their lives, he had wanted that vision more than he’d ever wanted the
Army. His thoughts not on the road, Ryder downshifted up the hill where the old truck struggled to maintain momentum. Leaving Lauren without a word had been a dick move that left her open and vulnerable. The bank issue was his to solve before he did the right thing. She’d argue about the bank, because that was her way. She had taken care of herself since middle school, and she didn’t accept help well. He’d wanted to make her a part of the team, to show her what it meant to belong to something outside of a dysfunctional family, but then he’d gotten the call from Mad Dog that had derailed his life. As he crested the hill, Ryder cursed
himself. Lauren deserved better. The truck took off with a jolt as if she’d rammed the accelerator. The bike responded faster than the truck, keeping close to her tail, but as they descended, her speed jumped too fast. Out of control. He surveyed the road ahead. No traffic, but the bottom of the hill curved tight around one end of the lake. The idea she might be so anxious to get away from him sent Ryder’s mood plummeting. He slowed to give her space, but she continued the high-speed race down the hill. She’d never been pigheaded. She certainly never courted danger. As he debated his next move, her emergency flashers started blinking. Ryder accelerated to maneuver around to
the driver’s side. The truck swerved across the yellow line. A second later her hand waved madly out the window. Ryder pulled up next to the truck, but he couldn’t hear a word she said as she gestured wildly. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide. “Brakes,” she screamed. Panic he recognized. The curve at the bottom of the hill was coming fast. He didn’t have time to extract her. Any other options were too dangerous and they didn’t have time. He lifted his hand into a fist and pulled back like pulling back on the emergency brake. She nodded and reached down beside the seat.
Not too fast, baby. If she pulled the lever straight back in one jerky movement, the truck would flip. He resented the calm, methodical thoughts flicking through his brain. His woman was in danger and his pulse and breathing remained steady. He wasn’t a heartless bastard, but his training kept him levelheaded. Acrid smoke and screeching filled the night as the brakes burned hot. The truck slowed, but not fast enough. The curve loomed and if she hit the turn at her current speed, the truck was done for. It didn’t have airbags. It barely had functional seatbelts. Come on, baby.
The clutch had snapped at the top of the hill. No brakes, and the curve approached at the speed of death. With a wish and a prayer, Lauren let adrenaline feed her strength. She yanked with everything she had. Each notch in the emergency brake jolted through her arm. Lauren gripped the steering wheel with one hand and the brake with the other. Both held her in the truck as the center of gravity shifted. A second later, the truck tipped, paused while her heart triple-timed.
Then the rusted hunk of metal twisted. She braced, expecting the impact on the driver’s side, but the truck flew ass over elbows across the highway. The night spun, slow, so damned slow after careening down the hill. No moon, no stars, no light, just varying shades of black whipping past. The dark engulfed her, a violent twister of night sky and asphalt. She closed her eyes against the spin. Metal twisted with an evil groan. Glass shattered, the higher pitch like a scream against the monster’s continual moan. Each impact slammed through Lauren, every ounce of flesh and bone shaken and stirred. Her teeth smacked together and her head slammed against
the rear window. The steering wheel hit next as her body rebounded from the first hit. The old metal wheel smacked her forehead and the world stopped spinning.
Ryder dropped his bike on a pullout opposite the curve. Pebbled glass, hay, and baling wire formed a debris field across the asphalt where the roof of the pickup hit. A bounce the other way, and he’d be fishing his wife out of the lake. Instead, the truck bounced off the
guardrail and skidded through the deadly curve to slam into the hillside where it rolled into a shadowy ditch. The new moon absorbed any light. This far out, there were no city lights and even less traffic. The dark embraced him as he rounded the perimeter of the upended truck. The silence was absolute. All he heard was the steady beat of his heart. The calmness angered him, but he slammed the rage into a box. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper now. Not ever. The truck listed on the roof of the cab while the driver’s door rested against the embankment. “Lauren.” No answer. The dark void didn’t hinder his vision as he examined the
wreckage. Like a beast of prey, he saw better at night. The hill reminded him of the desert, a perfect perch for a sniper. Hell, a whole squad could park at the top and wipe out anything in a two-mile radius. Silent and still, the hill was the perfect vantage point for an ambush. And that was the war talking. Ryder forced his mind into the present. The passenger door faced upwards so that his only way inside was to climb up and through the broken window. The wreck settled into a tight groove of a deep ditch. Ryder pulled himself up like climbing over a barrier, something he’d done a hundred times in training. He lifted until he sat on the passenger door, which now faced the sky. The shattered
window left a ragged hole. Lauren sprawled unmoving against the driver’s door. Ryder eased himself into the mangled cab and tried to find a place to land without stepping on her. His foot came to rest on the steering column and he climbed down from there. Blood gushed against the tight skin of her forehead. Head wounds bled copiously. The oozing red didn’t make a fatal wound. His heartbeat stayed steady. Damnit all to hell. What the f*ck had they done to him? His wife was bleeding and he didn’t feel a twinge of panic. No fear. “Baby?” No movement. She lay in a
crumbled heap against the door and the dead grass of the embankment. The window had shattered before the truck came to a standstill. Nicks and cuts marred her pale skin. Ryder reached down to press two fingers against her throat where a pulse thrummed. He shouldn’t move her, so said the logical side of his brain. The predator inside warned him to get the hell out of the twisted tin can. Ryder ran a hand along the back of her head and neck, seeking further injuries. His fingers came up bloody. The sight should have sent him into a panic. Instinct told him she needed to wake up. He patted her cheek, trying to be gentle. “Lauren, wake up,” he ordered.
There was no time for soft. The impulse to move out was ingrained too hard and long in his skin. Staying in a broken mass of metal made them easy targets. No. They weren’t at war. Settle down. But the nagging persisted. Only a dead man ignored his instincts. “Wake up and fight,” he said sharply. The groan in her throat was almost too low to hear. Of course she wouldn’t respond to an order. “You’re late for class, Lauren. Wake up.” Her eyes popped open. A hand went to her head. “Ryder, what—” She snapped upright, her butt sliding to the open window against the grass embankment. “The brakes.” “Can you move?”
“I just did.” She ran a hand over her legs, exploring, looking for injuries, and brushing off shattered glass. “I think I’m good. Except the head.” “Let’s go.” He hefted her to her feet. A grimace twisted her pouty lips. She squared her shoulders and tried— failed—to imitate his swagger, something she’d done before when he didn’t respond the way she thought he should. “That was a heck of a spill you took, baby, maybe you should rest for a minute,” she mimicked in a deep voice. She glared at him. “Why, how sweet of you to worry, Ry,” she answered in a false voice, enjoying her one-sided conversation. “But I could really use a
glass of wine and a bottle of aspirin. You’re such a sweetheart to suggest it.” “Want a hot tub with that?” he asked with a wry grin. “Wouldn’t turn one down.” A flush warmed her cheeks, and her eyes were clear and bright. “Good news.” Ryder brushed a knuckle along her jaw. “Your smartass bone isn’t broken.” “Bruised, though.” She rested her head on his chest. After everything, she still leaned on him. His heart fisted at the thought, so maybe he had a heart after all. Ryder wrapped his arms around her. How could he do anything else? She squirmed closer, fitting into him and
resting her head under his chin. Her hair tickled his nose. She smelled of floral shampoo and copper. He leaned back to get a better look at the cuts. “Took quite a header.” She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Scared me. When the brakes went to floor...” Her voice shook. “I thought I was road kill for sure.” For a minute, so had he, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it. He hadn’t been around to take care of the truck. He hadn’t been there to catch Lauren. What else had he missed? Lights flickered as a passing car made the tight curve and continued down the highway. “They didn’t stop,” Lauren complained.
“You’re pretty low in the ditch. Probably can’t see it in the dark. Come first light, it’ll be visible.” “Fat lot of good that would do me.” She gestured with her hands to emphasize her point. He loved the way she talked with her hands. She was so full of life she couldn’t keep it contained. Everything about her vibrated with energy. If people had a life force, hers burned brighter than any he’d ever seen. “If you hadn’t been there—” A hitch cracked her voice. “I was.” “I’d have been stuck all night.” He flinched, because the result could have been worse than being stuck beside the road all night. “You aren’t
stuck all night. I’m here.” “For how long?” Her gaze dared him to answer. She wanted to know how long he’d stay, but Ryder didn’t have an honest answer. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He dropped a gentle kiss to her lips. Warm and sweet. “Hop up.” He patted her back and eased away. Lacing his fingers to make a stirrup, he hoisted her through the passenger window. Her butt hit the cold metal and her feet dangled. “Grab my purse.” “Where?” “Under the seat.” Under the seat was now the sidewall. Ryder peered under, but Little Debbie wrappers papered the
floor/wall. “We need to talk about your eating habits.” “Not now, Ryder. Someone’s coming.”
CHAPTER FIVE “Time to go.” He brushed her feet the rest of the way out before climbing through. Headlights glistened like search lights near the top of the hill. Every instinct pushed him to get the hell out before the enemy zeroed in on their location. Enemy? sh*t, his brain was still f*cked. And that right there was why he needed to stay away from Lauren. If he didn’t get his head screwed on straight, she’d end up like Madigan’s wife. Ryder didn’t fear dying, but Lauren’s death was an unacceptable loss. Careful to avoid aggravating her injuries, Ryder lifted her from the truck.
The oncoming car took the hill slower than the first, so the driver might catch a glimpse of the crash. “My bike is on the other side of the road. We don’t have time to get to it. Come on.” He led her along the shoulder of the road towards the bike. When the headlights drew closer, he pulled her into a drainage ditch that led under the highway, and then shielded her body with his. Lauren wiggled, trying to break free. Blood still trickled from the wound on her forehead. “Ryder, they can help.” Doubt and guilt plagued him as lights flashed through the opening. After the last few months, he didn’t trust anyone, not even a random stranger, because they weren’t always random.
The lights passed before Ryder lifted his head to the outside and watched the vehicle continue around the curve. The shove against his shoulder brought his attention back to Lauren. “There went our help.” “I’ll get you to Debi’s. Trust me. I don’t—” The words strangled in his throat. There was only so much he was willing to talk about, even with Lauren. “You don’t what? Spit it out, Ryder. Don’t go all closed off on me again.” Had he done that? Closed off from her? Separating himself from Lauren was like slingshotting out of planetary orbit. She was the center of his life, the planet he revolved around, but when Ryder closed his eyes at night, he still
saw Mad Dog’s bloody hands. If it hadn’t been for the horror in Madigan’s foyer, he’d never have had the strength to leave. “Ryder.” Her voice snapped in anger. “You don’t what?” She deserved an answer, to this at least. “I don’t trust roadside strangers.” “Oh, but...” Her body deflated under his. She reached up and ran a hand over his jaw and tears watered her eyes. “But this is Texas.” As if that said it all. “Not everyone’s a Good Samaritan, and because it’s Texas, I...” “Finish. The sentence.” Her teeth ground together as she spoke. “It’s Texas. Everybody’s uncle is
carrying a gun, Lauren. Do you not understand the inherent danger?” “Okay.” She adjusted her shoulders, settling deeper into the cool darkness. “Say that’s true—not that I believe everyone’s bad—but, Ryder, if anyone tried, you’re the biggest badass I’ve ever seen. You walked between armed deputies and an armed soldier. You didn’t even break a sweat and it was a hundred degrees outside.” The way she saw him made his chest swell, but she didn’t know the truth. “That was an extreme situation and you weren’t there.” If she had been, his first priority would have been her protection. “But you have skills, Ryder, and a
gun.” She rubbed a hand over the gun in the holster imprinting through his shirt. “One Texan with a handgun on the side of the road isn’t enough to stop you. They can’t hurt you.” But they could hurt her. Ryder swallowed. The night settled around them. It was easier to talk in the dark. He ran a hand over her jaw. The scratches on her face didn’t disguise her beauty. That she’d agreed to coffee the first morning they met was a beyond comprehension. That she married him was a miracle. She adjusted again, wiggling her butt against the hard ground. “Are you okay?” He had her pressed into the packed dirt of a
drainage ditch. Thankfully dry, but the night was cold, contrasting to her heat underneath him. She’d been under his skin from the moment he’d laid eyes on her across the bar. Rose had given him hell, but the pretty girl in red cowboy boots was worth the razzing he took. She was the answer to every wish he’d ever made. What can I get you gentlemen? He’d had to nearly saw off his tongue to bite back the answer in his head. All he’d needed was Lauren, before he’d even known her name. Having her underneath him again felt right; the first right thing in six months. She was his wife, warm and willing beneath him. He braced his weight on
his arms. “How’s the head?” “Hurts.” She swiped a hand over the gash. The blood had slowed to a trickle, so there’d be no need for stitches. “What about the back of your head?” “Fine.” She reached back, grimaced when her hand scraped the wound. “Okay, well, maybe a little blood.” He turned to sit huddled in the ditch and helped her sit up. He ran fingers over the back of her skull. A large knot formed around an already healing gash, likely caused by the back window of the pickup. Her hair was sticky and matted. “Do you feel dizzy?”
“No.” “Headachy?” “Little bit.” He itched to go, but he’d already pulled her from the wreck, which was ill advised and brought on by his paranoia. Now that they were out of the twisted metal and settled in the darkness, he could take the time to make sure she was okay to travel. “Do you feel good enough to ride the rest of the way to Debi’s on the bike?” “Not yet.” She climbed into his lap and burrowed in. “Are you leaving in the morning?” Darkness covered them in this pocket of ditch almost like a cave, surrounded by winter grass and silence.
“In the morning, we’ll go to the bank. Fix the problem.” “And then?” The need to stay with Lauren was a visceral thing—she was his from the moment he had laid eyes on her—but the need to protect her from the hell raining down on him was stronger. Her kiss in the bar was filled with all the goodness he wasn’t sure any of them deserved. Team Fear was the heartless result of focused recruiting combined with tireless training and a little R&D. They’d sold their souls, each and every one, for a power they could never fully comprehend. Ryder forced his thoughts onto the woman in his arms. “I have to leave. You have to let me.”
The flex of her throat when she swallowed drew his attention. “Ryder, I just got in a car accident.” “Let’s get you to Debi’s and patch you up.” “I’m still not feeling one hundred percent.” She adjusted to put one knee on either side of his hips. “Let’s take a minute to celebrate the fact that I didn’t die.” The way she melted into him, soft to his hard, warm to his cold, was all the encouragement he needed. She wanted him. Like the kiss in the bar, this was inevitable. And fleeting. No one knew the time limit better than Ryder. They couldn’t be together as long as he had the potential to go off the rails like
Madigan. But right now? Right now, his woman straddled his lap, nestling his crotch between her legs and she looked up at him with— This time, he couldn’t go slow. He took ownership of the kiss. Of the woman. Her lips parted under his assault. She knew him, knew he would swoop low to taste her. Home, she tasted like sunshine and honey and home. This is what he’d missed, what he’d needed more than food, water, or air. How could he walk away from the only bright light in his life? The night filled with moans. Her lips answered his, the kiss blistering in intensity. He nipped and tasted. He controlled. She wriggled her hips to
slide closer to home. Her hands caressed his arms to settle around his neck. She twisted her fingers through the hair at his nape and pulled him closer. Harder. Need shot straight to his balls. Her tongue pushed into his mouth and she became the aggressor. Maybe they’d both held back before, the perpetual honeymoon of deployment and homecoming keeping them at their best behavior. Something the accident had shaken loose. They’d been denied time to settle into real life. They didn’t know how long they had together this time around, so they both took and gave, real and hard. With a tug, she pulled his head back to release her lips. The pressure on his
scalp shot straight to his groin. Her chest rose and fell, her breath fanning out in soft puffs of white vapor. The soulful gaze he’d fallen in love with settled on him like a net. He’d stay trapped with her for eternity. He’d planned on forever from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but sometimes, life didn’t go as planned. The compelling questions in her eyes didn’t need a voice. She wanted to know why. Maybe his guilt forced the question. Either way, words failed him. Anything he said would sound paranoid. He very well might be a paranoid bastard, a hazard of the life and the training and the meds that should have long ago cleared his system. Maybe he was crazy, but if he wasn’t—
She levered up to capture his lower lip and tug it between her teeth. “Quit thinking.” The tug turned his dick to granite. It would be so damned easy to lose himself in her. He rocked against her core. “Lauren—” Car headlights flashed through the opening. Tires crunched against asphalt and slowed. “Ry, get up. Someone’s stopping.”
CHAPTER SIX Lauren despised herself right now. She’d nearly given herself to Ryder in a ditch. Bloody and looking like hell, God, could she get any more desperate? Hopefully not. The second the car passed, he’d swiveled to put his body over hers. Muscles bunched under her fingertips. She released her grip and struggled, trying to buck him off. Right. Because he was so easy. The grind of the car’s brakes sounded and the glow of lights diffused the desperate dark. “Ryder.” He slapped a hand over her mouth. No. He. Didn’t. Did he remember who taught her self-defense? Instead of
kicking, since no way could she get the leverage, although it would feel fantastic to kick his sorry ass, she pressed her feet against the ground. All she needed was a little leverage to turn them sideways and then she’d get up and find help before this car left like the last one. Right. All she accomplished was wedging her butt deeper into the grass. The man was a rock. “Be still,” he hissed. “No way these guys belong out here.” What kind of guys? She’d ask, but he still had his fingers over her mouth. She licked his palm. “Now who’s twelve?” He removed his hand to wipe the slobber on his shirt. “Are you going to keep quiet?”
She could run to the car against Ryder’s wishes, and destroy whatever connection they’d gained in the last few minutes. Normally, he kept stuff bottled up tight, but he’d shared his concerns for his safety and for hers. He’d actually talked instead of changing the subject or walking away. She shouldn’t want to build anything with him, but the lost look in his eyes when he said he didn’t trust roadside strangers just about broke her heart. She’d bet good money that he didn’t trust anyone, and she blamed the Army. Nothing about their situation was easy, but if she walked off now to get help, he’d never open up again. “I’ll stay quiet if you’ll tell me what concerns you.”
He helped her kneel low and peer around the edge of the drainage ditch. “Three males, early twenties, late model sports car.” The dark made it hard to see. “You just described nearly every soldier on the post.” “Close-cropped hair.” “Military,” she insisted. “Slouched, poor posture, skinny.” How did he focus on so many details across the dismal expanse? All she saw were the headlights shining at the hillside and what might be the front tire of her pickup. “Could just be a couple country boys heading home after the bar.” “No cowboy hats or boots, too
casual clothes, and a new shine on the car. No way that car drives out to some dusty border ranch. Trust me, these guys do not belong in a rural environment.” Trust me, he said, when it was obvious he didn’t trust anyone. Her chest felt tight. Lauren stared up at the fathomless sky. If Ryder was paranoid, he did a fine job of convincing her of his truth. “They’re not looking for survivors.” He peeked his head around. “They’re scavenging.” “My purse.” Ryder pushed her head out of the line of sight. “Anything worth dying for, sweetheart?” “My phone.”
“Get a new one.” “But—” “sh*t.” “What?” Her voice rose and he quelled her with a look. “They found my bike. I can’t let them take it.” “Oh, but they can have my phone?” Yes, she knew her argument was juvenile. His motorcycle probably cost more than a semester’s tuition. “Stay here.” He shifted, all sleek muscle and uncommon grace. “Do not leave me here.” She tried and failed to keep the snarky sarcasm from her voice. “The girl who gets left behind always dies.” He reached into his jacket and
pulled out his gun. Turning it to the side, he flipped off the safety. Before she could question him, he thrust the gun in her hands. “We’re going across the highway to the motorcycle. If anyone intercepts us, you do not engage. Climb back down here to the drainage ditch. If we’re on the other side of the highway, find the ditch and take cover. Stay down, stay safe.” He was probably paranoid. Those men were probably perfectly friendly. Safe. Lauren’s heart pounded anyway. Like a shadow, he rolled out of the ditch and disappeared into the black. A few seconds later, he motioned for her to join him. The headlights from the car drew her attention to the hillside. Was
that where Ryder was headed? She had no idea where he’d left the motorcycle. The men she’d seen were no longer silhouetted in the light. Their absence gave credence to Ryder’s warnings. He paused to listen and peer into the night. Time in the silence stretched like a piece of barbed wire. She wasn’t sure where the barbs were, but they were out there in the inky silence. A muffled grunt sounded from several feet ahead. Lauren tightened her grip on the Glock. The racing of her heart could give a jackrabbit a run for the money. Staying low, Lauren crossed the highway behind Ryder. As they reached the narrow shoulder of the road, he curved around her and hustled her
into the other side of the drainage ditch that led into the lake. “We’re not going to make it to the bike.” He whispered the words. “Stay here.” Shortly after he disappeared, more grunts and smacks filled the night. She couldn’t see more than two feet in front of her face. The murky lake was a few feet in front of her and the ditch at her back. Her grip on the gun was so tight that the muscles in her forearms shook. The crunch of gravel and growls from the fight sounded like it was right in front of her, but she only saw black. She inched closer to the sounds, away from the narrow ledge near the lake, and her feet caught in something and she went down for the count. On the
ground, she turned and crawled smack into a body. Dead? A scream lodged in her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hold the noise in. Puffs of steam pushed through the gaps in her fingers. “Get the f*ck back,” she heard Ryder yell. Crud. He was definitely talking to her. And he sounded dang happy to hear her. Not. “Who are you talking to, motherf*cker.” “You, homey,” Ryder said. Breath huffed as if he took a hit. “Stay the f*ck back or I’ll kill your sorry ass like I did your friend.” Bile climbed her throat and she scooted away from the body. Dead. Dear
God, what had happened to her life? She was a grad student. A professor. The most trouble she saw was students getting expelled for underage drinking. “Oomph,” a growl sounded from someone taking a hit. Who was the punching bag? The smack of flesh on flesh, bones crunching, one human dismantling another, turned her stomach. Lauren rose to hands and knees. She wanted to run. She wanted to help Ryder. A hand gripped her hair and yanked her to her feet. “Ow.” The pain was nothing compared to the dread. If she survived this, Ryder would kill her. “Drop the gun,” a low voice ordered. He used his free hand to crush her wrist.
Lauren dropped the gun and he released her hand. She had been too close, too surprised to take a shot, but no way was she going down. Kicking and biting, Lauren used her whole body. Whoever grabbed her pulled her tight into his body to steal her leverage. Use every limb to fight off an attack, Ryder would say. Victims went down easy. Lauren wasn’t easy. With her arms banded closed, she kicked with her remaining strength. “Be still, bitch.” Bad breath and booze. “Not a chance.” Lauren curled into a ball, bringing her legs up like an airborne crunch, then reversed the move, ramming her head and feet into her
attacker. He released her with a muffled curse. A brief moment of freedom preceded her drop. Her knees screamed bloody murder at the impact, but she was free. She scrambled for the gun. Less than five minutes ago, she wasn’t sure she could use it. Now she had no trouble with the idea of taking another life if it saved hers. And Ryder’s. She crawled, running her hands through the dirt. She didn’t make it more than a few seconds before her attacker landed on her. He pinned her to the ground, jammed a leg in her spine, and pulled her arms back like he was roping a steer. She was trussed up before she could yell out. Not that calling for help would change the outcome.
Ryder’s focus had to remain on his own fight. Hand-to-hand took attention. The attacker grabbed her from behind and lifted her mercilessly to her feet. By her arms. Pain shot through her shoulders. Her scream of pain was silenced by a cuff to the head. The man shoved her downhill until two bodies emerged from the darkness, engaged in a hand-to-hand fight more intense than anything in a boxing ring. Hits and kicks impacted both men. Skin split. Blood spewed. Lauren didn’t have trouble picking out Ryder. He was the six-foot-four monster whaling on a smaller adversary who held a knife. She yelled a warning, but her captor clapped a hand over her mouth.
She smelled gasoline and chemicals. Lauren resumed her struggles. “Stop,” the captor said, then raised his voice. “Stop now, or I cut the woman open.” Ryder turned, his face shadowed, but anger flowed off him like a lava river. He didn’t have time to react before the man with the knife slashed out. The glint of steel buried in Ryder’s stomach. He fell and rolled out of sight. What? No. Tears streamed down Lauren’s cheeks. “Ryder,” she screamed, but her words were muffled in her captor’s hand. “Let’s go,” he ordered the other man. “We got what we came for.”
Lauren fought, dragging her feet, but the other man grabbed her legs. Together the men hauled her to the car and tossed her in the trunk. Pain jolted up the side that took the brunt of the impact. Every body part screamed in agony, but nothing compared to the sight of her husband falling into the dust. After the fighting and the stabbing... Lauren bit back a sob. He couldn’t be dead. He was invincible.
CHAPTER SEVEN Lauren’s face smacked the carpeted wall of the trunk. It was the softer side, as she’d come to think of it, the side closest to the back seats. The trunk didn’t have a seatbelt so she rolled around like a jug of windshield washer fluid. She tried to brace her legs to stay in place, but the more she struggled against the car’s movement, the harder she hit the interior walls of the trunk. The car took a turn at high speed and she rolled the other direction, hitting the opposite side, which was more metal than carpet. She hurled curses at her captors, but didn’t hear a response. The exhaust sputtered loudly, some
modification to make it more macho. Black shrouded her, so she didn’t have a sense of the small space. The restraints binding her wrists weren’t ropes as she’d assumed, but some hard plastic that bit into her wrists. Zip ties? Great. She was screwed. The image of Ryder falling filled the confines of the trunk. How badly was he hurt? Lauren forced down the nearhysterical sob. It took more than a knife to take out her husband. Her heart dropped and she kicked in anger, connecting to something metal. The pain reverberated up her leg. She’d solve the problem of her marriage when she got out of this mess. She’s seen a movie once where the
victim kicked out the brake lights. Right. Because that was so easy to do with her hands tied behind her back while traveling at seventy miles an hour, but it was better than flopping around like a dying fish. Metal, or something hard, covered where she figured the taillights were located. Lauren braced for another turn. And then the car decelerated. Fear choked her, causing a coughing fit. As she car slowed more, her breath panted out until she was hyperventilating. Deep, empty breaths hurt her chest. So not good. She hadn’t figured a way out of the trunk and they were stopping. When the car parked, Lauren lay completely still. Maybe they’d forget
her. Or leave her here while they went wherever they were headed. Her legs cramped, but she didn’t dare shake them loose. The trunk popped open and two faces leaned in. Could she kick them? One of the men placed a knife under her chin. “Scream and I’ll slice you open.” Who talked like that? “I said I’d bring you here, I didn’t say you wouldn’t be hurt.” Holy crap. Lauren’s mind blanked. The men yanked her to her feet and pushed her in front of them up a driveway. The residential street wasn’t one she knew, but the surrounding houses sat far enough so their porch lights didn’t illuminate her walk of terror up the
cement walk. They pushed through the front door of the house without unlocking it. They must feel pretty safe to leave the door unlocked. Of course, they were the probably the most dangerous people in the neighborhood. Who would bother them? They shoved past an armed guard, through a hall with two doorways blocked by heavy plastic, and then up a set of stairs. “Give Smith a call. Tell him we got the girl.” The dirty realtor? “Don’t you mean Smythe with a Y,” she said, anger washing away the panic. “Arrogant bastard,” the taller man said. That answered the question she was
too terrified to ask. Smythe with a Y was definitely an arrogant bastard, and apparently he was the man behind this. What the hell? He might be a dirtbag, but kidnapping jumped past creepy and into criminal. And kidnapping wasn’t his first criminal act. Reality washed through her and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Ryder had told the truth. He’d paid the mortgage. What had Smythe done with the money? More importantly, why did he want her? Chills wrapped her skin. Lauren didn’t want to find out. The men opened a door at the end of a long hall. The room was painted a deep chocolate brown with a light blue comforter on the oversized king bed, but
with the low light, it was like a dark cave, and Lauren didn’t want to know what kind of animal created this place. She backed up until she walked into her kidnappers. The answering laugh was movievillain evil. Someone shoved her into a room so normal it screamed suburban housewife, but something heinous had happened here, leaving a psychic residue that threatened to swallow all the light. Some latent survival instinct had Lauren dragging her feet the more they pressed her into the room. Getting cut open seemed preferable to whatever they had planned in this room. She screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors. The man on her right slapped
her across the cheek with enough force to send her sprawling into the wall. The back of her head smacked, aggravating the existing wound, but Lauren wasn’t done fighting. The hands tied behind her back weren’t her only weapons. She lowered her head and rammed the man who had hit her. With a grunt from the impact, the man went flying back, but Lauren didn’t have her hands to balance, so she went sprawling on the floor next to him. Pain ripped her shoulders. The man next to her on the silky beige carpet sucked air like she’d knocked the wind out of him. Satisfaction was short lived. He turned his dark eyes to her and rolled to subdue her under him. Lauren braced her
legs to buck him off, but it didn’t work. He leaned down to sneer in her face. “Smythe didn’t pay me enough to keep your ass safe, bitch.” Gathering every ounce of energy, Lauren crunched forward and smacked her forehead into his nose. Agony lanced through her head and the world twisted around her like the accident. The man rolled, blood oozing from his nose. Ha, bet Smythe hadn’t warned him about the broken nose. Before Lauren could celebrate, the other man yanked her by the hair to drag her to her feet. Spikes of pain added to the existing aches until her vision blurred. Using her hair as a sling, he spun her through a narrow doorway. She hit the wall and
screamed as agony preceded her slide to the floor. The door locked, leaving her in silence and dark. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed the sobs. The pricks wouldn’t have the satisfaction of hearing her fear and desperation. Tears leaked down her face silently. Lauren twisted her cheek to the silky rug to wipe them away. Someone had chosen this carpet to soothe tired feet after a long day of work, but it wasn’t soothing to her abraded cheek. None of this made any sense. Despite the aura of evil pervading the space, once upon a time, someone had decorated the house with love and attention. This was
not the house for the men who had bodily hauled her from Ryder’s side. This wasn’t even a house that belonged to a slick salesman like Smythe. She curled into a ball and waited for the pain to ease, to catch her breath, to figure out how she ended up in a house in the burbs locked in a closet with her hands tied behind her back.
Ryder parked his bike at the end of the block and approached on foot. The sports car that had taken Lauren was still
parked in the front drive along with a pickup and a few older cars. Dawn threatened on the eastern horizon, but for now, the night blanketed him. Sticking to the shadows, he prowled the perimeter. There were no streetlights on the block, no alarms or landscape lights. Blackout curtains covered the windows, and something wicked infused the air. The gap between the houses was significant enough to avoid detection from the neighbors. He hopped the fence and eased around to the back. A man sat on a deck by the door smoking a cigarette and playing on a cell phone. Both ensured the target had screwed his night vision. Ryder approached swiftly and
silently. The man looked up when Ryder made it within three feet. He dropped his cigarette, but Ryder decked him before he had a chance to defend. The sideswipe snapped the man’s face to the side. He was knocked out before he hit the deck. With the guard incapacitated, Ryder moved to the back door and listened. All quiet. He slipped through the door. The gourmet kitchen was overflowing with fast food wrappers and garbage. The lights were on but no one was home. He moved through to a hallway before he heard voices. A guard sat on a stool near the front door. He was talking on the phone. There was no sign of Lauren, and the only way into the rest of the house
was through a guard the size of wrestler. He had a thick neck and bulbous nose, and a handgun strapped to his chest. Ryder eased back into the kitchen to evaluate. Without knowing how many men were in the rest of the house, he’d rather not take on the guard. He’d retrieved his gun from the accident scene, but one gun wasn’t enough to take out a full house. He grabbed his cell to text Rose. ETA? At your bike. Tell me you didn’t go in alone. Ryder ignored the last statement. Rear guard is incapacitated. Second guard inside front door. One handgun visible. Number of unfriendlies
unknown. Need distraction up front. I’m the distraction? Just knock on the door, asshole. Rose sent him a middle finger emoji. A minute later, a knock pounded on the front door loud enough to wake a stoner. Ryder shook his head. Rose didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He eased back into the hall where the guard had pulled out his weapon and now peered through a stingy crack. A mumbled conversation ensued while Ryder stepped closer. Two doorways leading off the entry were closed off with thick plastic sheeting, the kind used by construction workers at renovation sites. No way to tell how many were in those rooms. He’d need Rose on the
inside. Ryder slid past the opening and rammed the barrel of his gun into the guard’s back. “One’s in the chamber. What you do in the next two seconds decides whether you live.” The man twisted, but not fast enough. From the outside, Rose slammed the door inward, smacking the guard in his face. They had him face down on the tile before he could shout a warning. Rose subdued him while Ryder stepped on his gun hand. He leaned down so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Where’s the girl?” “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ryder shifted his weight to the heel
of his boot. Heard a finger crack and break. “f*cker,” the man grunted. Ryder squatted down and yanked the man’s hair back to look in his bruised eyes. “This is going to be the longest hour of your life.” He glanced up at Rose. “Take him out back where they won’t hear his screams.” “Is that supposed to scare me?” “No.” Ryder grinned. “It’s to get my buddy on board. He wasn’t sure a douche like you was enough of a challenge. He likes inflicting pain.” Rose flipped him off behind the guy’s back. A woman’s scream rent the air, coming from upstairs. Lauren.
“I got this.” Rose smacked the guard’s face into the tile. “Go get her.” A steady heartbeat pumped in Ryder’s veins as he jogged up the stairs. He pulled the Glock as he approached the first closed door. Before he made it, someone opened a door down the hall. sh*t. Nothing like flying blind. Ryder tackled the first guy through the door, hitting the wall with the crunch of bones. A second guy punched him in the kidney from behind. Flying backwards and blind, Ryder dove straight back, taking the second guy with him to the ground. He flipped and pointed the gun to the guy’s chest. The man who’d knifed him on the dark highway stilled. “I left you bleeding
out.” Incompetent bastard. “Not even close.” The knife had cut open Ryder’s jacket and left a gash through his midsection. Nothing fatal. “Paper cut, asshole. If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.” “How did you find us?” “Get up.” Using the gun, he motioned the men up and back into the room. The bedroom was pristine. Welldecorated by someone with money. The cozy bed with pretty linens twisted something in Ryder’s gut. What did they have planned for Lauren? The anger he struggled to contain came alive. He glared at the two men. The taller one had
sparred with Ryder on the road. He was lean and fast, clean cut in the regular light. Despite the gun, the man held himself loose, legs apart, waiting for an opportunity. Street fighter, and he liked it. The second had a bloody nose. Quite possibly broken. “You let a girl break your nose?” “f*ck you.” He spit blood. “Where is she?” “I’ll get her,” Broken Nose offered. Ryder stepped forward and kneecapped him. “You don’t go near her. Ever.” He turned his attention to the guy who was so far uninjured. “One chance to answer my question. Where. Is. She?” Street Fighter grinned, showing
yellowed teeth between cracked lips. “Closet.” A steel door had replaced the closet door. A padlock had been added to keep her stuck inside. “Key?” Street Fighter motioned him closer. “Come get it.” Ryder aimed the Glock and fired. The bullet lodged in the wall behind Street Fighter’s head. “Next one hits skin and bone.” “Jesus, man, the neighbors will call the cops.” “Not a problem for me. I’m just a man retrieving his wife from a couple dirtbags.” “Wife?” Street Fighter dug into his pocket and pulled out the key. “Sorry,
man. I wasn’t told she had a husband.” “So it’s okay to abduct a single female?” Ryder wanted to end this loser. “Toss the key over here.” When Street Fighter complied, Ryder stepped forward to grab the key from the plush carpet. “Turn around. On your knees with your hands on your head.” Both men did as he ordered. Ryder knocked on the door before he unlocked it. “Baby?” “Ry.” Her voice sounded strained through the metal. “You alone?” “Yes.” He unlocked the door while keeping an eye on the men. “Come on
out.” She struggled to her feet, her hands bound behind her. Her face was banged up—from the crash or the abduction— and blood trickled from the gash on her forehead. The need to beat the crap out of someone flowed heavily through Ryder’s veins. “Baby, go into the bathroom while I finish here.” He nodded to the attached bath in the back of the room. “Why?” She butted his arm. “You can’t kill them.” “Sure I can.” Broken Nose flinched at his words. “No.” Lauren glared through a swollen eye. “In war, yes, but here, we call the police.”
Rose burst into the room. “I heard gunfire.” “Just motivated the troops,” Ryder said. “Put them into the closet until we figure out what we do with them.” Rose frisked the men and confiscated a knife from Street Fight. Ryder kept his body between the men and Lauren as they moved past. When Street Fighter passed, Ryder stopped him with a hand to his chest. “If I see you again, I won’t ask questions. I will kill you.” Street Fighter lifted his hands in a sign of submission. “Hey, man, it was just a job.” Ryder clocked him in the left cheekbone. Street Fighter took it without
flinching. He shook out his head as if to clear the pain. “It’s not a job to me. You might want to remember that.” “Got it.” Street Fighter strolled into the closet like he owned it. Rose locked up behind him. Ryder holstered the weapon and approached Lauren. Her smooth skin was bruised, her forehead bloody, and her lips were split. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. He used the confiscated knife to slit the ties behind her back. She shook out her hands and moaned. The ties had cut into her wrists, leaving them chafed and red. Ryder rubbed the skin around the gouge mark to get the blood flowing. Her cold fingers trembled in his grasp.
Rose took a defensive position in the doorway, keeping an eye on the hallway. “What’s the plan?” “We call the cops.” Lauren leaned into Ryder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Not a good plan. After what went down up north, I’m not anyone’s best friend when it comes to law enforcement.” Lauren turned to look up at him. “They kidnapped me. They planned...” Ryder didn’t want to think about what they had planned or he’d go apesh*t. “We need information, and the police won’t let us participate in the interrogation. What’s going on downstairs, Rose?”
“Guard’s out, locked in a closet. There were four workers in the lab.” “Lab?” Ryder nodded at Lauren’s question. “There was lab equipment in both sealed rooms. That, coupled with the guards—” “And product in the garage,” Rose added. “Which makes this a meth house in the middle of suburbia.” “What did you do with the lab pogues?” Ryder asked. “Non-essential personnel are in the pantry along with the guard from the back deck. They didn’t put up much of a fight. The rest of the house is empty, but they’ve got a boatload of finished product stockpiled in the garage. We can’t leave that sh*t.”
“Okay.” Ryder started running contingency plans through his head. Anyone could walk in at any time, which meant he didn’t have time to move Lauren to a secure location while he got answers. “They targeted Lauren. Specifically. I didn’t see them at the bar, but they had definitely staked out her habits. They knew she’d be on that stretch of highway. How long have you been staying with Debi?” “Two weeks, but my schedule at the bar changes all the time, depending on how busy they are.” “But you work every Sunday?” She shivered. “Yes.” Ryder caught Rose’s gaze. “They knew where she’d be. They disabled the
truck.” “What?” Panic laced her voice. “They’re the reason I crashed?” “Baby, your brakes and your clutch went at the same time. Hard to call that a coincidence, especially when followed by the abduction. They’re related.” Her fingernails dug into his arm. “Why?” “That’s what we’re going to find out.” “You two go on. I got this,” Rose said across the room. “I’ll question these two, find out what we need to know, then —” He glanced at Lauren. “I’ll eliminate the product and the threat.” “Is that a euphemism for murder?” Lauren pushed away from Ryder. “You
can’t take the law into your own hands.” “Watch me.” Ryder shook with the need for retribution.
CHAPTER EIGHT Ryder assured her they weren’t killing anyone. Right before he stashed Lauren in an empty bedroom and locked the door, making her as much a prisoner as she’d been in the closet of the master bedroom. She paced and muttered to herself. Being tucked away “for her own good” felt a lot like sitting at the kid’s table. When Lauren left the room, the menace oozing off her warrior husband was off the charts. If Wade getting handsy had angered Ryder, it was nothing compared to the rage against the men who dared to take her. Ryder kept the rage contained in her presence, but
he would let it loose on the two they planned to “interrogate.” No doubt he’d get answers. A chill washed her body in goose bumps. How did one go about interrogating a suspect? If she couldn’t think about it, she probably shouldn’t witness it. Still, she’d rather they gave her the option to stay or go. It wasn’t like she’d jump in to defend the men who’d kidnapped her, but she worried about Ryder. When they were dating, he’d go on missions for a week or two at a time. Each one altered him; had stolen pieces of his soul. The final deployment he refused to discuss at all. She feared this kind of operation would trigger the same response.
She sat onto the lower bunk and huddled into the corner, seeking comfort in the childlike space, but the memory of Ryder’s stone cold face kept her on edge. No mercy. His look promised no mercy for the men in his custody, but there was a cost to cold, calculated torture. He’d wall himself off, and she couldn’t go through the separation again. She plucked a string from the navy comforter. Despite being married for eighteen months, they’d actually spent only a few months living together, thanks to the deployment and his sudden departure six months ago. Did she know him as well as she thought, or was she fooling herself? Ryder pushed through the door.
“Time to go.” “What happened?” “We got the information,” he said without inflection. “Rose set a charge to go off in five minutes.” Lauren hopped from the bed. “You can’t blow up a house in the middle of a suburb. We can make an anonymous call. Let the police handle it.” “They’re not handling it or these guys wouldn’t be so organized. We’re in a position to eliminate the product and the equipment.” A shiver shook her body. “Did you kill the people?” “I told you I wouldn’t, so I didn’t.” His face was hard and unreadable. He motioned her forward with two fingers.
“It will look like an accident in the meth lab.” “This is U.S. soil. You don’t have the right—” “They threatened you, so I have every right, but we can argue later. Now, we move.” “I can walk and argue.” Lauren stepped into the hall and down the stairs. “I’m talented that way.” Ryder chuckled softly. “Can’t argue with you there.” Now he wanted to be agreeable. They exited out the front and met Rose on the lawn. All the cars had cleared out, leaving the cement drive empty. Rose tossed her an oversized handbag. “This yours?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Rose nodded. He was a big man, much like Ryder, with light hair, suspicious eyes, and way of looking straight into your soul. Lauren hugged the purse to her chest. She’d known a few of Ryder’s fellow soldiers, but not well. None of them talked much. At least not when she was around. They certainly weren’t as carefree as the young soldiers at the bar earlier. She’d never seen Rose dance with anyone or even chat up a girl at the bar. He went with his buddies, but he was the most solitary man she’d ever met, which was saying something considering Ryder was a lone wolf of epic proportions. Rose clapped his hands together.
“Saddle up.” At the bike, he gently set a helmet on her battered head and wrapped his leather jacket around her shoulders. She stuffed her arms into the sleeves and breathed in his scent. The coat was warm from his body. Wearing it shouldn’t make her heart fluttered like a debutante at her first ball, but it did. They pulled away as the sun brought light and reason to the most hellish night of her existence. Lauren wrapped her hands tighter around Ryder’s middle and relaxed into his back. Her head pounded and every muscle ached, but she’d survived, a doubtful outcome an hour ago. When the explosion sounded behind them, She
jumped and her breath hitched. Ryder kept the motorcycle steady as if nothing unusual had happened. Maybe explosions were normal for him. Maybe he simply didn’t care. Lauren shivered. She pressed closer to him and zoned out. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a motel parking lot. Rose’s truck was parked at the end of the line. Ryder pulled next to it and turned off the bike. Lauren dismounted and stumbled two steps back. It had been awhile since she’d ridden and her legs were rubbery. She wanted more than anything to sleep for a week, but she still had classes to teach. Rose tossed Ryder a key. “Debrief in an hour.”
Lauren shook her head. “Ryder, I have to teach this morning.” “Call in sick.” “No.” The aches turned to anger. “This is my life. I can’t call in sick. Aside from Dr. Crawford, I have students depending on me. I’m going if I have to call a cab to get there.” Rose stepped away from the pair. “I’ll be next door.” He disappeared behind a faded blue door. “Coward,” Ryder muttered. He led the way to the next room and unlocked the door. “I don’t want to argue with you.” “Then don’t get in my way.” Lauren stepped into the plain room. A bed and a desk with a bathroom in the back. She’d
kill for a shower. “I left the scene of a crime, let you blow it up for heaven’s sake. That goes against my sense of right and wrong.” “It was the right thing to do.” Ryder helped her out of his jacket. Lauren shivered at the loss of his leather jacket, and it wasn’t simply the heat. She turned around. Ryder’s bereft expression matched the feelings winding through her gut. Deep down, she loved him, but love wasn’t enough. They’d had more love than sense and he’d still walked away. She refused to get attached this time. “I’m going to take a shower.” She glanced at the bedside clock. She still had to get a fresh change of clothes before heading to campus.
“I’m leaving in half an hour.” She scurried into the bathroom before he could react. That probably made her a coward, but she could live with cowardice. The reflection in the mirror reminded her of a horror movie. The top of her hair was flat while the rest was windblown into knots. The scrape on her forehead was starting to scab and bruises marked her cheek and chin. God, she looked like she’d gone two rounds with a bouncer. She climbed into the shower and let the hot water soothe away the worst of the aches. Dried blood and dirt flowed down the drain along with the cheap motel shampoo. The wound on the back of her head started to bleed mildly as
she gently brushed away the clots in her hair. The pounding in her temple matched the throbbing wounds on her face and knees. Out of nowhere, the shakes started. Chills wrecked her body and her legs trembled. No longer able to stand, she sat down hard. Water pounded on her from the shower. Tears came from nowhere, followed by sobs. The more she tried to hold the blubbering inside, the more her cries echoed in the small room. Ryder stepped into the bathroom, his boots quiet on the tile floor. He reached in and turned off the water before covering her in a towel. He led her to the bed where he wrapped her in
the blanket and bedspread. If anything, the shaking in her limbs increased. “And this is why you shouldn’t go to work.” Ryder stripped off his shirt and boots and climbed into bed with her. His heat surrounded her, better than the blanket or the hot shower. He spooned her and curved his arms around her waist. For several minutes, he simply held her and let her fall apart. When the sobs stopped and the trembling eased, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “It’s adrenaline letdown. Gets you every time.” Lauren wiggled closer to his heat, the denim of his jeans the only thing separating them. “You seem fine.” Her words were slow and soft and shivered
much the way her body did. “I—” His breath brushed her bruised cheek. “Finish. The sentence.” Did they have to do this every time? “I don’t feel it anymore.” “Feel what?” The muscles of his chest tensed against her back. “What?” she insisted. “You don’t feel the adrenaline letdown anymore?” “That either.” Lauren twisted to face him. Her heart thumped against her chest so loud it was all she heard. “Tell me.” “Fear.” The deep green of his eyes was as unfathomable as a murky lake. His expression bland, because they’d
trained him to show no emotion. “I don’t feel fear anymore.” Was that possible? Did he feel any emotions? “Is that a result of combat?” “Partly. I—” A knock sounded. “That’s Rose. I asked him to come over and patch you up. He was a medic, so he’s trained, and he carries a professional first aid kit.” Lauren sat up and clutched the blanket to her chest. “We need to finish this discussion.” “If you’re going to work, you need to get patched up so we can hit the road.” “A few minutes ago, you thought I shouldn’t go to work. Now you want me to work so you don’t have to finish this
conversation.” Different day, same story. “Avoidance much?” Ryder threw the covers off and stood. “We will finish the conversation.” The annoyed frown said he’d rather eat glass. “But I’d already decided to let you go to work.” “Let me?” The anger heated her body and fast. “Yes. Let you. Because when it comes to your safety, you don’t get to decide. While we’re on the subject, I told you to stay down and stay safe. You did neither.” Because she’d been afraid, cowering alone in the dark ditch. Ryder might tick her off, but he’d protect her every time, so she’d been naturally
inclined to follow his footsteps, but Lauren would wrestle a bear before admitting it to him. Instead, she wrapped the towel around her as she left the warmth of the bed. “You’re an arrogant jackass. I’ve been taking care of myself most of my life.” “And last night is the result.” He rested his hands on his hips, drawing attention to a gash through his toned abs. Her breath caught. Despite the stabbing, he hadn’t even slowed down, so it didn’t occur to her that he was truly hurt. Her heart thumped, because she was capable of fear. “You’re bleeding.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” The pounding on the door increased in speed and duration, so he moved to the door.
“Rose can patch me up when he finishes with you. Get dressed.” Lauren scooted into the bathroom before she accidentally flashed Rose. She pulled on sweats and her hoodie and stepped back into the bedroom. The conversation stopped when Lauren opened the bathroom door, a sure indication she wouldn’t like what they had to say. Rose stood near the bed holding a large duffle with a red cross on the side. He patted the bed. “Have a seat, sweetheart. We’ll see how bad they banged you up.” “She’s tougher than she looks.” Pride filled Ryder’s tone. “One of those guys has a broken nose, and if I’m not mistaken, Lauren did that.”
She ducked her head. “I had a good teacher.” Ryder pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her. “You’re tough and you’re smart,” he whispered. Lauren tucked her head under his chin, and for the first time in months, the ache in her chest eased. Ryder kissed her temple before making his way to the bathroom, leaving her with a man who’d never given her more than two words. Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, her head and heart hurting. Rose flashed an annoying penlight in her eyes before checking the wound on her forehead. She closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see the pain his gentle touch caused. “There’s a matching cut on the back.”
“If you’re gonna do it, do it right.” Rose pushed her hair aside to look at the one in the back. His big fingers prodded the skin around the gash and Lauren bit down before a whimper escaped. After several quiet minutes, she had to ask. “How bad is it?” “If you went to the ER, they’d put a staple or two in the back of your head.” Nausea rose straight up her throat. “I’d rather not.” Rose snorted softly. “Me either. Look, head wounds bleed, but yours aren’t life threatening and the bleeding has mostly stopped. Keep the cuts clean. Use this antibiotic cream to help heal faster.” He smoothed some on as he spoke, and then covered her forehead
with a bandage. “Scarring?” She was thinking something along the lines of a Frankenstein monster. “You only wish you were that cool.” The humor surprised her. “You’re so right. I live to be a badass.” She winced as he lifted her chin to look at the bruising. “Is it safe to sleep after a head wound?” “Ryder said you were going to work.” The words were said in an even tone, like passing someone on the street, but it felt like a world of judgment. “I am going to work.” She ground her teeth to keep from saying more, then winced at the pain in her jaw. “I mean
later. Will it be safe to sleep?” The hand on her chin tilted until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “When you sleep later today or tonight, someone should wake you every two hours to assess your condition. If you’re hard to wake up or feel worse, we’ll reevaluate. The key is to let Ryder take care of you.” Fantastic. The one man capable of inflicting the most damage was now her nursemaid. Lauren leaned away. The concern in Rose’s eyes made her as comfortable as a cat in a bathtub. “Ryder’s cut is worse than he let on.” “He’s had worse.” “You’d know.” The army medic knew Ryder better than anyone, up to and
including Lauren. If she knew so little, and Ryder kept so many secrets, did they have a real marriage? They were more like lovers who had snatched a few days together between missions. The sex was great, but the letdown was a killer. The pain of losing Ryder was as real as it got, and she wasn’t sure she could do it again. She blinked back tears. “Rose, do you have a first name?” “Yep.” “What is it?” “Sergeant.” She smiled sadly at the way he avoided her question. The men were all so silent, so secretive and aloof. Maybe it was an army thing. “What, is it like Dwight or something?”
He laughed, his deep baritone riding the air like old-school jazz. “Or something.” “Can I ask you a question?” He nodded as he packed the antibiotic ointment in his pack. “Shoot.” “Do you feel fear? I mean not like being afraid of the dark or anything, but do you ever feel fear anymore?” Rose went motionless for a moment, just long enough to show she’d struck a chord. He glanced up as Ryder walked back into the room. “That’s something you need to talk to your husband about.” Right, because her husband was so forthcoming. The man strode into the room without a shirt. The play of
muscles reminded her of a predator on the prowl with sleek, deadly grace. His jeans rode low to stay below the angry gash above the waistline that did little to detract from his incredible body. Water dripped from his dark hair, turning it black as a moonless night. The drops of water slid down his toned chest, making her hands itch to touch his muscled length. She forgot about her question. Ryder half-naked was the best distraction. Lauren dug her hands into her palms. “Rose, have you seen my purse?” “Over there.” He motioned to the desk. “Now for my next patient...” Lauren grabbed her purse and headed for the bathroom. She swallowed
a few ibuprofen capsules and hoped it helped the constant ache over every inch of her body. Once she brushed her hair and put on some makeup to cover the discoloration, she felt a million times better. She dug her phone out and saw more than a dozen missed calls from Debi. Lauren pushed the call button and the other line answered on the first ring. “Girl, what happened to you?” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” “Try me.” “First off, the truck is a wreck in the ditch about five miles from your house.” “What? Are you okay?” “I am now.” Lauren didn’t want to
go into everything that had happened overnight. The events were a blur of craziness, unbelievable and hard to relay over the phone. “Can you meet me on campus with a change of clothes?” The delay in answering spoke of a story Debi had yet to tell. She hated coming onto campus grounds. “It’s not the first time Ryder kept you out all night and you had to wear the same clothes to class.” “Yes, but these clothes are my uniform from the bar and a pair of sweats. Crawford would ban me from teaching for sure.” A painful pause filled the static. Lauren twisted the faucet to turn off the constant drip. “Please,” she pleaded. “I
was in a car accident last night.” “Are you honestly trying to guilt me into bringing you clothes? Girl, after staying up all night worrying about you, I am not in the mood. Watch it or I’ll have you wearing a housecoat and a pair of Goofy slippers.” Lauren snorted. She’d do it too. “Be nice and I’ll introduce you to a hot man who’ll let you do all the talking.” “I’ve already met Ryder.” “Men like him move in packs or haven’t you noticed?” “Fine, but I’m bringing the housecoat in case tall, dark, and quiet doesn’t show.” Lauren bit her lip. “I honestly don’t know if he’ll be with us on campus, but I
promise in the next day or two.” “I see how you are. You want to buy now and pay later.” “Something like that.” “Okay, but you get what you get with the clothes.” “It’s got to be better than my bar uniform.” At least Lauren hoped. They said their goodbyes and Lauren shoved her phone into the pocket of her sweats. She wasn’t losing the phone again. Rose was stitching Ryder’s gash closed when she stepped back into the room. “I thought you said you didn’t want to do stitches?” “On you.” Rose grinned affably as he dug the needle into the skin on one side of the gash. “I don’t mind piercing a
soldier’s skin.” Bile rose up her throat. She spun away so she didn’t have to see it. She stared at an ugly painting on the wall, waiting for the torture to end. Finally Rose gave her the all clear to turn around. Ryder yanked a clean t-shirt over his head. “If you want to get to class on time, we need to roll.” Lauren grabbed the wallet from her purse and handed it to Ryder. “Can you carry this?” “Sure.” He stuffed it in the interior pocket of his jacket before helping her into the black leather. Lauren twisted her hair into a messy bun that fit under the helmet. “Let’s go.”
“Professor?” Beth stared at her from behind the coffee kiosk. “You look — Different.” It was the leather. Debi had brought black skinny jeans and knee-high black leather boots which were definitely not from the approved teaching attire section of her closet. Once she added Ryder’s leather and multiple bruises, she looked like a dominatrix with a leather fetish. It was marginally better than sweats. She’d have to avoid Dr. Crawford for the day.
“Can I get the largest black coffee you make?” “Sure. What’s with the—” She gestured to her forehead. Lauren’s hand fluttered to the bandage. “Car wreck, last night going home from work.” “That’s awful.” Beth poured a steaming cup of black coffee and carefully placed the cover. Here on campus, she looked younger than she had last night at the bar. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and she was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt. “Shouldn’t you be at home or something?” “Or something.” Lauren swiped her dining card to pay for the coffee. “Am I
going to see you in class?” Beth was one of her brightest students, but actual attendance didn’t fit into her plans. “Hard to ditch once you’ve seen me.” Her lips lifted into an impish grin. “But if our professor takes a sick day, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.” “Nice try.” Lauren grabbed her coffee and stepped aside for the person behind her. Beth’s face lightened into a beatific smile. “Hey.” Lauren glanced back to see one of the soldiers from the bar last night. “Baby Face?” Red stained his smooth cheeks. He reached out a hand. “I’m Joe.” Lauren introduced herself and
stared between the two. Seeing the young soldier chasing after her student shouldn’t surprise her, but somehow, it did. “Joe is taking me to lunch after I get off shift.” Beth glanced behind her at the clock. “In six minutes.” “Six minutes? Crap, I gotta get to class. If you’re late today, Beth, I’ll know why.” Beth laughed and waved. Lauren raced across the quad to her class in the administration building. Ryder waited for her at the top of the concrete steps. “You were supposed to change your clothes and meet me here.” “I had to stop for this.” She lifted the coffee cup. “And I don’t have to
report to you, Ryder. I have a job to do.” He walked with her to the classroom. “You can’t stay and observe. Go annoy someone else for a few hours.” He tugged her sleeve, pulling her away from the door. “The guys from last night probably won’t bother you, but the man who hired them may get someone else to do his dirty work. Until we figure this out, I’m watching your back.” Her heart thumped at the reminder of the accident and subsequent kidnapping. “Fine, but do it from a distance.” He raised a thick brow. She recognized the move and knew a lecture was coming. “Would you look at that? Time for class.” She escaped to the room and closed the door before Ryder
could step through. The anger on his face promised payback. Fine. Time to have it out. He couldn’t walk away for six months and expect her to play the dutiful wife when he returned. They hadn’t used the word obey in their wedding vows for a reason. Lauren turned her attention to the full classroom of freshmen. Silence reigned as shiny faces stared at her like she’d walked out of a p*rn video. Maybe they thought her outfit was some sort of instructor role play. Lauren set her coffee on the desk and tried not to sigh. The way they looked at her—the boys especially— proved the outfit was as bad or worse than she feared. Debi had had her revenge, because Crawford would hear
about this before the end of the day. Lauren straightened her shoulders. The last week had been anything but normal. Mayhem was becoming a way of life, but she still had a job to do. She might not always have a husband, but thanks to her education, she’d always have a career teaching young minds, most of whom wanted to be anywhere but history class this early in the day. She took a deep breath and smiled. Deep down, abysmally deep some days, she loved teaching. And today, teaching gave her the break she needed from Ryder’s intensity. When she glanced back out the door’s window, he was gone. The thought of being alone sent a shiver up
her spine.
CHAPTER NINE Lauren raced down the hall like the hounds of hell chased her through the administration building. At her office, she grabbed the textbook for her next class. When she neared Crawford’s office, she doubled her speed. If she went fast enough, maybe he wouldn’t notice, because nothing about her appearance screamed academic. The look screamed desperately seeking attention, which was seriously frowned upon in academic circles. She made it nearly two doors past when Crawford’s voice called her back. “Lauren, dear.” Ha. The “dear” didn’t fool her.
Crawford was not some cuddly grandfather figure who would give her a kindly pat on the head for a job well done. Lauren lifted her shoulders and marched back to Crawford’s office, her heels clicking on the tiles. She felt like the whor* of Babylon. The second she walked through his open door, she smiled. “Yes, Professor?” And there sat Ryder in the brown leather chair next to Crawford, looking like a preferred guest. One booted foot rested on the opposite knee, and he looked as comfortable here as he did in a fight. This was not going to be good. “Lauren, dear, Ryder was just telling me of your horrible accident last night.”
Her hand automatically flew to her bandaged head. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as he made it sound.” She glared at Ryder sitting calmly and silently watching the byplay. “Your truck brakes failed?” “Yes, but—” “And the truck flipped?” Crawford would have made a great prosecutor if he’d had a heart for it, but he lived and breathed for the academic world. He wore tweeds even in the hottest weather, and the room smelled of pipe tobacco even though smoking indoors was patently illegal. “The truck? Well, yes, but—” “You should have told me.” Crawford’s face wrinkled in concern.
Real or imagined? He wasn’t an unkind man, but he certainly wasn’t a teddy bear. His wrinkles and balding pate showcased a career teaching history long enough to make history. “I would have insisted you stay home and heal.” “Well, I—” Lauren shuffled her feet. Ryder was going to pay for this. “I didn’t want to worry you, Professor.” Her excuse sounded lame. She hadn’t even considered calling in sick. “I can finish my classes for the day.” Crawford’s watery gaze turned to Ryder as if seeking his advice. Dear God, what had Ryder done? Threatened the professor? “Ryder tells me you didn’t get any sleep, considering the accident and time
in the hospital.” Sleep was optional for PhD candidates. “True, but—” “Stop,” Crawford ordered, his deep voice kindly. “I respect your dedication, but we can’t have our star pupil getting ill.” Star pupil? Apparently the knock on the head had done some serious damage, because she was definitely dreaming. “I’ll take your afternoon class. It’s been too long since I taught an undergraduate history course.” Crawford glanced through his reading glasses at her schedule. He’d printed her schedule? What had Ryder done? “We’ll get a sub for the rest of the week. You need time to recover.”
“Professor, while I appreciate—” “Enough.” Crawford stood and crossed the room to pat her shoulder. In Ryder’s presence, Crawford morphed into the stereotypical—and unlikely— professor with a heart. Lauren’s bruises throbbed under his hearty pat. “I don’t want to see you on campus until next week. And bring Ryder with you.” The old man showed yellowing teeth in a frightening grin. Ryder stood and the men shook hands. “His take on history is colored by the military of course, but he has some fascinating theories. I’d like a chance to pick his brain.” Lauren groaned. Now it made sense. The academic world was the good old boy’s program, and Ryder had
a penis. Damnit all to hell. The one time Crawford cared a whit about her, and it was because her husband had an interesting mind. She smiled tightly. “Of course.” Two steps down the hall and Lauren spoke around a bitter smile. “What did you do?” “Just told him the truth.” “Right, because the hospital happened.” “Did you want me to mention the exploding meth house?” Lauren dropped her books back at her desk. She patted her arms and pockets, looking for car keys she didn’t need and the purse she didn’t want to carry on Ryder’s bike. It hurt to ask the
next question, but she was at his mercy. “What’s the plan?” “Lunch.” Lauren crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to take me to lunch?” “Sure.” He grabbed her arm and escorted her down the hall and into the quad. “An army marches on its stomach.” The quote was one of Ryder’s favorite. “Frederick the Great?” “No. I’m quoting my TI in basic training.” Ryder twined his fingers through hers, effectively silencing her. She’d always liked his public displays of affection. Kissing, holding hands, the feel of his touch against the small of her
back. Small acts of possession. Maybe she was as much of a throwback as Dr. Crawford, because she’d missed the feel of Ryder’s large hand around hers. He rubbed a thumb over the heel of her hand as they walked. The easy strength made her feel safe. The sun shone down, filtering through the bare branches of the trees, creating lines of light and shadow on the bench where he stopped. A memory whispered in the shade, one better left in the dark. Lauren’s heart pounded. “Don’t even think about it.” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Let me.” She shook her head. “Bad idea.”
He stared at her face while he ran his thumbs down her jawline. Gentle, so very gentle for a man so formidable. The touch barely registered, as soft as a spring breeze. Her nipples peaked in anticipation. This was where he’d kissed her after their first official lunch date. He’d come by to treat her to lunch between classes, and before she went back to work, he’d pulled her aside and planted one on her. She’d floated on an emotional high the rest of the day. Today, he’d maneuvered her this way intentionally. Strategically, like a soldier in combat. Lauren wanted to be angry at the manipulation, but her body leaned into his as if Ryder pulled the strings.
Really bad idea, yet when he lowered his head, she was helpless to stop him. She ran her hands down his sides and moaned. The ridges of muscle were better than a dream. She thought she had lost him, and the loss had changed her. Running her hands over him was an unexpected gift, one that would alter her yet again. Firm muscles twitched at her touch. The soldier was as powerful as they came, but he quivered at her touch. A sense of power invaded her veins. He used the hands at her jaw to tilt her head and he dove deep, an answer to her unspoken prayer. His tongue battled hers. Lauren responded with a hunger that time and anger could not diminish. In his arms,
she felt protected, safe and for once, not alone. Tears threatened, the memory of his first kiss mingled with the moment until she couldn’t contain her reaction. Life reduced to the necessities: light and air and Ryder. She ran her tongue over his. The growl of pleasure emanating from his throat sent chills through her body. She needed closer, wanted the feel of him pressed along her length. His hands slid down her arms leaving fire in their wake to land on her hips. He pulled her closer still, until the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her belly. She moaned his name, and even she heard the erotic demand. Desire flashed soul deep and wouldn’t be sated with a
simple kiss. She wanted to wrap herself in him and forget the pain of their past. A group of laughing girls walked behind them and pulled Lauren from the hypnotic moment. Ryder was a dangerous man. It wouldn’t take much for him to pull her back into his view of the world. They stared at each other. His ragged breath spoke of his own struggle with desire. His eyes were hooded, hiding any emotions. He lifted his hand back to caress her bruised jaw. “Come on, let’s eat.” Lauren followed like a freaking pet. The kiss left her a jumbled mess of confusing emotions. She wanted Ryder, but the hurt of the past six months wouldn’t disappear. She was terrified it
could happen again. They’d gotten their food before her brain reengaged. It was his wallet that snapped her out of it. Tucked in with his cash was a dried leaf sealed in plastic. Oh, dear, her heart was definitely going to get involved. “Is that...” He nodded tightly, not meeting her gaze, and folded up his wallet, tucking it out of sight but not out of mind. The leaf was from the tree outside the cafeteria; a reminder of their first kiss. How could a man who kept such a memento end up leaving? The line pushed them forward, but Lauren was struck numb. Ryder held the tray with one hand while holding Lauren with the other. Across the room, Beth
and Joe sat next to each other, leaning in as if the rest of the world didn’t matter. Watching them brought memories that haunted her, pained her. She gripped Ryder’s hand tight and altered her direction to pass Beth’s table. “Hey, Professor.” Beth’s eyes took in Ryder from his thick black boots to his untamed mane. Everything about Beth’s gaze showed primal interest. Even sitting next to a boy her age, Beth knew the difference between the boy at her side and the man standing next to Lauren. Ryder rubbed a hand along her spine, easing the instant spike of jealousy she shouldn’t feel. “I’m Ryder. Professor Ryder’s husband.”
“Oh.” Beth shook his hand limply, with just enough disappointment in her voice to make Joe sit up straighter. He introduced himself, and when he sat back down, he scooted his chair closer to Beth. Lauren smiled at the proprietary move. Joe might be young, but he had the moves down pat. Did they teach territorial behaviors in basic training? “Beth said you were in a car accident last night.” Joe placed an arm behind Beth’s chair. Behind her, Ryder stiffened. He wasn’t much for chitchat, and he definitely didn’t like sharing. He lived in a world of need to know. No one needed to know his business. “Is that what caused the bruising?
Because the one on your cheek looks more like a fist.” Joe cast an accusatory glance at Ryder. The growl emanating from somewhere deep in Ryder’s soul went beyond anger. She reached back to grab Ryder’s hand and squeeze. “Nope. All car accident.” She turned her attention back to Beth. “I wanted to let you know that you got your wish. I won’t be teaching class this afternoon.” “Yes.” Beth did a fist pump in celebration. “Dr. Crawford’s taking over.” Lauren glanced at the nearest wall clock. “I wouldn’t be late if I were you.” “sh*t. Oh, sorry, Professor.” Beth scooted her chair back and grabbed her
tray. With a last dark glare at Ryder, Joe stood and walked out with Beth. By the time they reached the door, Joe’s hand rode the small of her back. “Well that was fun.” Nothing like having a complete stranger insult your husband. Ryder was a lot of things— distant, evasive, and overbearing came to mind—but he would never hurt her physically. Lauren followed Ryder to a table near the exit. As always, Ryder took the seat against the wall. “Who’s the guy?” “Soldier from Fort Bliss. They met last night at the bar.” “Sounds sketchy.” “That’s how I met you.” And look how that turned out. Lauren grabbed her
bowl of soup from the tray. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to imply—” “That’s exactly what he meant.” Ryder chewed on his sandwich for several minutes, his expression distant. “Is that what people think? That I hit you?” Lauren dropped the spoon into her soup. “No one thinks that.” “Except the grunt.” “Okay. So Baby Face Joe thinks you have mean stamped on your face. He was trying to make you less attractive to Beth.” And good luck with that, because there was no comparison between Ryder’s rugged appearance and the innocuous Joe. “Can I have a bite of your sandwich?”
He slid his plate across the table. Lauren lifted the roast beef to take a bite. Something made a popping noise when she opened her mouth. Each bite sent stabs of pain through her jaw. She swallowed the bite nearly whole and dropped the sandwich back to the paper plate. She shoved it back across the table. “I think I’ll stick to soup.” Ryder frowned. Only Ryder could make a frown look so undeniably attractive. His strong eyebrows slashed over deep green eyes and his firm lips pressed together. The hint of stubble gave his strong jaw the look of marbled granite. “Did I hurt you when I...” “Kissed my brains out?” “Answer the question.”
Lauren smiled, and then winced at the pain. “Honestly, I didn’t notice. I was too busy.” Busy wishing things were different. That he’d never left. That she trusted him. That she wasn’t so alone. God, she was having an existential crisis in the middle of the campus cafeteria. “Don’t try to make me feel better.” The guilty tone brought the lost boy look to his face. The look that triggered her need to nurture. She batted it down. “Fine. You shouldn’t have kissed me. Not because it hurt my bruised face, but because it bruised my heart.” The honest words simply popped out. What had happened to her control? And was that tears in her voice? Unacceptable. The muscles tightening her throat flexed.
“Now finish your lunch.”
Late afternoon sun peeked into the stingy motel window near the door, casting shadows on the industrial blah carpet. Highway noise filtered through the thin walls. Lauren stared out, zoning in and out of the conversation between Ryder and Rose. “Both the brakes and the clutch cable were cut,” Rose said. “I climbed under the truck myself. There’s no doubt.”
“Then not a coincidence.” Ryder rubbed a hand over her thigh. “Where’s my truck now?” Lauren shifted her gaze from the window. Rose adjusted his position in the crappy dining chair. “I had a buddy tow it to your friend Debi’s, but, sweetheart, there’s not much worth salvaging.” Lauren tried not to let the loss hurt her. She’d liked her granddad’s old farm truck. It made her feel rugged and independent. Plus it was her only mode of transportation. One more semester, that’s all she needed, but right now, the weight of life made that semester feel insurmountable. Leaning her elbows on the laminate tabletop, she rested her head in her hands.
Ryder rubbed her neck. Had he always been so physical? Yes, he’d like to put hands on her. Not to show the world she was his—although that was a factor—but he liked to reach out and touch. Lauren fought tired tears. “What did those men say when you, uh, interrogated them?” “They were paid to acquire you by a man named Smith,” Rose answered. “You mean Smythe with a Y?” “That’s the man. You know him?” Lauren lifted her head. “Yes, that slimy son of a carpetbagger is the realtor who foreclosed on our townhouse.” Ryder pushed back from the table and stood. “And why did he want to acquire you?”
The emphasis sent fear rolling in her gut, making her sick inside. Someone she knew, a man she’d been alone with, had paid those men to kidnap her. It was demented. “Maybe because I turned down his offer to be my sugar daddy.” “Jesus, Lauren.” Ryder paced to the mirrored closet and back. “How did that happen?” He was gone, that’s how it happened. She met his gaze and saw the realization in his eyes. “We were at the townhouse doing a final walkthrough.” Ryder looked at her with the intensity of the summer sun. The key was to avoid getting burned. “Did he touch you?” “No, Ryder, he was a complete
gentleman when he suggested we hook up to keep me off the street.” Ryder cursed her sarcasm as he stalked her with the controlled strength of a predator playing with his food. “What did you do?” The inference lit her fuse. “Gee, Ry, I don’t know. I think I said, ‘What the hell. It’s not like I have a husband.’” “Answer the question. Did. He. Touch. You?” The tendons in his neck flexed and his cheeks flushed an angry red. Rose stood and edged closer to the door. “I think I’ll just—” “Stay. We’re not finished,” Ryder insisted. “Lauren?” She shrugged. “He tried. I think I
broke his nose.” Ryder closed his eyes. “That put you pretty damned close.” “I used the heel of the hand thing you taught me.” She sniffed with a mix of pride and shame. She hadn’t wanted to learn self-defense. Ryder had insisted. Even before they were married, he started teaching her to defend herself. “It sure bled a lot, so I really think I broke it.” He moved close and scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Breaking noses seems to be your signature move.” Not on purpose. “The first one didn’t hurt, just scared the bejesus out of me. The second one—with the guys last night—it hurt more to use my head.”
“Even injured, you used your head. You’re something else, baby.” Ryder sat back into his chair and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” He rubbed a hand down her tender jaw and she leaned into his touch. “We’ll fix this. I will protect you.” She’d never doubted his ability to protect, only his ability to stay. Her heart ached knowing his time with her had an expiration date. The door opened and Lauren turned to see Rose leaving. “Don’t go,” she told him. “We’re done with the marriage stuff.” And Lauren needed a buffer against her own desires. He glanced between them. “You
two should talk.” “No.” The last thing she needed was alone time with Ryder. Exhaustion made her bones tired, and the filter between her brain and her mouth was off kilter. She’d end up saying something she shouldn’t. “We need to figure out what’s going on, and we don’t have time to waste.” Rose looked to Ryder who gave a slight nod. “Let’s finish debriefing.” Rose sat down in front of a small notebook. The pen seemed dwarfed in his big hand as he checked off a couple notes. “So Smythe shows up to foreclose your house, and then hires idiots to kidnap you. They sabotage your truck, which leads to last night’s crash.”
Lauren took a sip from her water bottle. “That about covers it.” “Not quite,” Ryder said. “What happened to the checks I had sent to the mortgage company?” “Another unanswered question. For now, we assume the realtor is dirty.” Rose added another line to his notes. “Possibly someone at the bank as well.” “Here’s another thing I noticed.” Ryder grabbed her hand as he spoke. “The FOR SALE sign in front of our house was the same company as the one in front of the meth house last night.” “No sh*t.” Rose drew a big star next to the last line he wrote. He could have been planning a business meeting for all the expression he wore. She
wondered what it took to throw the big man off kilter. Ryder wrapped his knuckles on the table. “The next step is to make contact with Smythe.” Lauren walked to her purse to pull out her phone. She handed it to Ryder, and then sat down on the corner of the bed. “You’ll find his number in the Cs.” Ryder’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Smythe with a C?” Talk about creative spelling. A twinge of pain kept Lauren from grinning. “No, C for Carpetbagger.” “You’re a hard woman.” He smiled. “I like that about you.” “You have no idea. I can hold a grudge with the best of them.” She’d
watched her mom hold a grudge against death and the Army for most of her life. Ryder scrolled through her contacts. “Hold up. No calls yet. Think with your head, not with your—” Rose grabbed the phone from Ryder’s hands, before casting a quick glance at Lauren. As if she didn’t know how that sentence ended. “First we need background. We don’t plan an operation until we know the facts. We need to know about Smythe, the bank, and the status of your mortgage before we call him. We get one chance to surprise this bastard. Let’s do it right.” “What do you have in mind?” Rose tapped the pen against the
writing pad. “I think we should call in reinforcements.” “Absolutely not.” The determination in Ryder’s tone bordered on anger. Tingles zipped across the hair on Lauren’s arms from the energy in the room. “What are you afraid of?” Rose taunted.
CHAPTER TEN “I’m not afraid, asshole.” Ryder exploded from his seat and stood as rigid as a flagpole. Tendons and veins in his biceps flexed while his hands fisted. “Leave the team out of my quagmire. They have enough sh*t to worry about.” Rose climbed to his feet, right in Ryder’s space. The two warriors stood chest-to-chest, anger and unspoken grief between them. “We made a promise when we came back. Waiting too long cost two good men their lives. This is not the time to walk alone.” “Different reason behind that promise, and you damn well know it. Besides, I’m not alone.” Tension drained
from Ryder’s shoulders, but he didn’t reclaim his seat. “After what happened with Mad Dog and Gault, the team deserves a break. Leave them in peace.” “Live by the team, die by the team. Those are the rules you set in motion,” Rose emphasized. Leaning forward, Lauren rested her arms on her knees. Ryder never talked about his team, especially after the last deployment, but Team Fear was Ryder’s family. It was a comfort to know not everyone was alone. That they’d made a pledge to each other that meant more than wedding vows. Ouch. Lauren leaned back. She wasn’t sure how she felt about his commitment to the team outweighing his
commitment to her. Her eyes stung. Under the anger, hurt bloomed full and bloody in her chest. Ryder was a team player, just not her team. The military trinity—God, country, and family—was a load of horse manure that skewed her father’s priorities. God first, country second, family last. Such thinking had turned her mother into a war widow. A bitter single mother. “Not yet.” Ryder didn’t back down, but faced-off with Rose. “Leave the team in peace.” The team came first. Reality shredded her insides. Lauren wasn’t a martyr willing to take second place in her husband’s heart. Rose stabbed the pen into the
notepad, nearly snapping the cheap plastic. “For now, it’s you and me, but if sh*t turns sideways, I’m making a distress call and you’ll damn sure take the help.” Ryder shoved his hands in the front pockets of his black jeans. “We need to climb all over Smythe. Find out what makes him tick.” That wasn’t exactly agreement. Lauren was well versed in Ryder’s avoidance tactics. The mattress gave as she leaned back on her arms. A sleepless night and her head injury made it hard to keep up. The subtext between Ryder and Rose—stuff they weren’t saying out loud —filled the small motel room with tension.
“Let me dig into information on your townhouse and the meth house last night,” Rose said. “See if I can find any similarities. Then I’ll contact the owners of the house. Find out if they had any interaction with Smythe.” Lauren’s eyes drifted shut and snapped back open. “Why would they talk to you?” “Their old house exploded this morning. They have a sympathetic journalist on the phone digging for answers. They’ll spill.” Rose smiled across the room. “You’ve got some serious academic whiplash going on over there, sweetheart. Why don’t you get some sleep? Ry and I can work in my room.”
“Please don’t.” Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, but— “I don’t want to be alone.” Story of her life, and completely mortifying to admit, but the idea of being alone was worse than the monsters under the bed. “You need sleep,” Ryder insisted. “I’ll sleep.” Lauren looked to Rose, who seemed more malleable than Ryder. “If you guys, uh, work in here?” Neither man answered. Talk about hard-asses. Lauren screwed her face into a pout. The tactic might be juvenile, but she wouldn’t sleep if she were alone. “Please?” “Sure.” Rose stood. “I’ll bring my laptop over, but first, take another couple Vitamin M.”
“Vitamin M?” “Motrin. Despite what this guy says, the Army doesn’t run on food. It runs on Vitamin M.” She smiled. In the past, whenever she was near Ryder and his team, Rose had intimidated her. He was a big man, quiet, not unfriendly, but definitely unapproachable. Since he’d started acting as her personal medic, he’d softened. Or maybe her opinion of him softened, because he was still built as solid as an underground bunker. She swallowed the ibuprofen and Rose left. The room went silent with the departure. Lauren would rather make small talk at a faculty mixer than deal with the uncertainty of her marriage.
Ryder had no such reticence. Wordlessly, he stood and pulled her into an embrace. The physical touch connected them in a time when words failed. There was no room for anger or recrimination in the quiet cocoon of each other. The steady beat of his heart pulsed through his thin cotton t-shirt; each beat an affirmation of life. That she had survived the past twenty-four hours was something of a miracle, so Lauren held on, timing her breathing to his, her heart naturally following his cadence. Next door, a couple checked in, their voices coming through, not in actual words, but mixed tones, male and female, talking. The peaceful monotones filtering through the sheetrock soothed
her frayed nerves. Lauren rested her cheek on Ryder’s chest, wrapped up in momentary togetherness. It might be an illusion, but one she needed more than food. Falling for Ryder again would be as easy as breathing his air, so she reminded herself that he would leave. He’d told her as much in the dark hallway at the bar. If the truck hadn’t flipped, he’d be gone already. Couldn’t fault the man for his honesty, so armed with the truth, it was up to her to protect her heart. Stepping back took every scrap of strength in her bone-weary body. The last week had been a killer. She’d lost her home, had a car accident, and gotten kidnapped. Ryder showed up
at her work after six months of silence. The last twenty-four hours were surreal. Nowhere felt safe, except in his arms, and that was an illusion. Next to Ryder was the most dangerous place to stand. She trailed a hand from his solid chest down his center. His breath hitched and hers followed. He felt as good as a cold pillow on a hot summer night, but like that cool pillow, he wouldn’t last. When her touch reached his hard abs and wanted to dig in, she pushed away. Leaving first, staying strong, refusing to backslide into his easy embrace. Rose returned with a quick rap on the door as warning, so Ryder didn’t have a chance to test her resolve. Probably a good thing as she needed
sleep more than she needed another confusing encounter with her husband. The Southwest style comforter on the bed called her name. She lay on her back and shifted her head to a spot that didn’t aggravate her injuries. Once comfortable, she stared at the only artwork in the place, a quasi-modern piece in swirls of turquoise, orange, and red. The only thing going for it was it matched the comforter, yet the colors and the swirls became her meditative focus. In the background, Ryder and Rose plotted strategy. The words held no meaning as she drifted, only the tones different. Ryder’s low and measured, controlled—Ryder was always freaking controlled—while Rose’s deeper
baritone rumbled like an ocean against the rocks. She drifted on those waves into a deep slumber. When she woke later, Ryder gently rocked her shoulder. “Sorry, baby, I have to wake you every two hours until three in the morning.” “Twenty-four hours. I remember.” Lauren shoved hair off her face and lifted into a sitting position. She had been seriously out of it, the kind of sleep where drool gathered on the corner of her lips. Trying for discreet, she swiped a hand over her lips. “Where’s Rose?” “Picking up Chinese. I ordered your usual, plus hot and sour soup in case your jaw hurts.” He could be sweet, which made it
harder to stay emotionally detached. Daylight had faded while she slept and the curtains now closed against the night. Only the dim light from the muted television lit the small room. Sitting up brought her within cuddling distance of Ryder. Their thighs touched through their clothes and his heat warmed her front. Made her pulse speed. Ryder brushed a knuckle gently along her sore jaw. His eyes were hooded as he watched the movement of his fingers along her skin. “Bruises look worse tonight. How’s the pain?” Lauren twisted her jaw to test, sparking twinges of pain with the movement. “Better.” Maybe if she said it, she’d start to believe it.
“Liar.” His knuckle trailed down her neck along the line of tendon, sending sparks along her nerves. “Feel good enough to eat?” “Soup sounds good.” Her voice cracked. His touch explored the sensitive skin between the collarbone and neck. A wave of desire flooded her chest. He leaned in and Lauren leaned back. Her body still responded to Ryder, but her mind knew better. “I think I’ll go clean up before the food gets here. A good soak will ease some of the soreness.” He helped her to her feet. Lauren retreated to the bathroom to regroup, grabbing the bag Debi had packed for her. The bath filled with hot water while
she brushed her teeth and cleaned the drool off her face. And why either mattered was beyond her. She wasn’t trying to impress her husband. She wasn’t going to seduce him. Lauren spit toothpaste into the sink. Why not? They were married. “Because that kind of rational thinking will get me in deep deep trouble.” She braced her arms against the sink. Married or not, Ryder had the power to break her if she started to feel for him again. For Lauren, sex and love went together like bad boys and leather, and with Ryder, she couldn’t do one without the other. She could lie to herself and say she just wanted one last night of wild sex, but her heart would surely
follow her body. She glanced into the mirror and saw watery eyes reflected along with a damaged face and split lip. She looked like a battered rodeo clown. Better to keep her heart safe and her body far away from temptation. The hot water of the bath lured her. She settled into the tub and let the heat lull her into a relaxed state that drained the ache from her bones. Her eyes drooped and she scooted lower, letting the water soothe her tired shoulders. Hard knocks on the door forced Lauren’s eyes open. More drool gathered around her lips. Geez, what was wrong with her? She swished water over her face to clear the drool and
cobwebs. The knocking increased, sounding frantic and loud in the small space. She opened her mouth just as Ryder pushed through the door. Words died on her tongue with one look at his intense face. Dangerous thoughts hid behind half-lidded eyes, and a red flush spread up his sharp cheekbones. Lauren’s breath caught. She couldn’t force herself to speak. Thinking was beyond her at the moment. Dressed all in black, Ryder resembled a panther at rest. Dark and mesmerizing. All sleek muscles, he filled the doorway with six plus feet of innate strength. No one could mistake him as harmless. Here was the man who had pursued her. He was impossible to
ignore. Cool air filtered in from the outer room, sending goose bumps along her skin. Hardened her nipples. Yeah, had to be the cold, not the man. “Close the door.” The words were a whisper. Not an invitation. He stepped inside and closed the door. Not what she meant. “I thought you’d fallen asleep.” The gravel in his tone woke parts of her long dormant. “That might have happened,” she admitted. “What, uh—” His thick boots didn’t make a sound as he crossed the tiled room in two steps. He landed on his knees beside the tub and trailed a finger through the water. Lauren froze like a trapped animal. Desire burned in his green eyes.
With work-rough fingers, he caressed the skin at the water’s edge before plunging lower to tease circles around one nipple and then the other. They hardened painfully. How fast he made her want what his touch promised. Lauren moaned. “Such a pretty sound. Thinking about it keeps me up at night. I can’t f*cking sleep with the memory of it in my head. Seeing you like this.” He licked his lower lip. “Baby, I’m already hard.” That really wasn’t her plan. What happened to the lecture she’d given herself? Ryder pinched her nipple, sending sparks to every cell in her body. Another
moan ripped from her throat. The knowing chuckle shot straight to her core. His firm lips took possession of hers while his fingers caressed down her sternum and stomach to land between her thighs. He swallowed her moan. A twinge of pain in her jaw had her jerking away. She lifted a hand to her injured cheek. Desire was stamped on Ryder’s features, but he leaned back on his heels. “I didn’t mean to—” “Don’t stop.” Please, God, don’t let him stop. Her stomach clenched in dread. She wanted him; wanted the fulfillment of his touch. One last time. Yeah, she knew that sad excuse as a lie. Didn’t change a thing. A flame exploded in Ryder’s eyes
before he glanced down her body from her peaked nipples to her groin. “Guess I’ll have to use my mouth elsewhere.” The promise made her inner thighs clench. Talented fingers slipped through her folds and found her wet, and not from the water. No need for him to tease and cajole. Lauren’s legs fell open. With one touch he owned her. His fingers circled her cl*t while his mouth nipped and kissed along the tender flesh of her neck. The moves split her focus so she could only feel, her body feverish with the need he built. He controlled. She craved what only he could give. His lips sucked on a tendon as a large finger pushed into her. Lauren arched, splashing water over the edge of
the tub. “That’s it. Open for me,” Ryder said against her neck. His thumb worked her cl*t. Spirals of frantic energy swirled through her lower body. The capacity for thought diminished to nothing. Her body chased the org*sm pumping through her system, building, spiraling, so damned close, so quick her brain didn’t have time to get in the way. Ryder’s large fingers rubbed against internal ridges, sparking nerves and sending her closer. Higher. She arched into his hands. “Harder,” she moaned. The outer door opened and closed with a bang. “Food’s here,” Rose hollered from the adjacent room. The
bathroom door was closed, but Lauren felt exposed. She clamped her thighs closed, trapping Ryder’s hands, but he didn’t stop. He whispered in her ear. “You wanted harder, baby.” His fingers moved to comply, hitting her g-spot with enough force to lift her hips from the water. The urge to scream conflicted with the need to stay quiet. Rose was less than twenty feet away with only a cheap motel door between them. “He can’t hear you or see you. But I see everything.” Ryder’s large hands separated her thighs. “The flush on your chest. The trembling in your thighs.” Holy hell, the words ignited her veins. Lauren arched into Ryder’s touch. Her legs shook as she held herself on the
edge of ecstasy. “That’s it, baby.” Ryder nipped her earlobe. “Come for me.” The order sent her flying. Lauren came with a silent scream. Her eyes squeezed shut as her inner muscles clenched on his large fingers. Lights flashed behind closed lids. Ryder swallowed her moans with a fierce kiss. He brought her down slowly, finally slipping his fingers free. He trailed a hand through the water, skimming her skin, sending a final shockwave of spasms through her system. Finally, his lips brushed gently over hers. “You are so f*cking beautiful.” He stood and dried his hands on a towel. Words failed her, not that her
voice worked. She couldn’t think beyond what he’d done to her. The bulge in his jeans was proof of how he wanted her, but he moved away instead. The Ryder smirk made her want to do something impulsive and stupid. His eyes followed her gaze. “We’ll take care of this later.” He adjusted himself and turned his back on her for several silent moments before leaving the room. Oh dear Lord. Lauren drooped back into the tepid water. So much for distance. Ryder was a walking sex machine. He’d brought her to org*sm before she’d had time to think about the consequences. Now she craved him more than she had last night when she’d nearly given herself to him in a ditch.
The memory of it sent another wave of heat across her skin. Lauren cooled the heat with one thought. Ryder would leave again. Her heart slammed against her ribs with a thud that sounded final. She dressed quickly in sweats and an oversized nightshirt. Nothing sexy about a faded X-Files t-shirt. Nothing that would give Rose an indication of what had just gone down in the bathroom. The muscles in her arms trembled as she brushed her hair and waited for the flush to fade from her skin. Distance was her safe word for the night. She needed to maintain her distance.
Lauren woke wedged against Ryder, her back to his front, his arm wrapped around her belly and one strong thigh between hers. If she was looking for space, she had about a hair’s width between her ass and Ryder’s groin. The last time he woke her for the concussion check, he’d been fully dressed and working with Rose. But they were definitely skin-to-skin now—no boxers for her man—and when had she stripped off her sweatpants? The dark of the motel room was
absolute, so that Ryder was the only thing grounding her. A hot breath brushed her ear, sending blood to her groin. Without question she had to move before she opened her thighs and begged for another screaming org*sm. Lauren shifted, trying to ease away, but the movement triggered a response from Ryder. He pulled her closer to his tight body. And damn but that hair’s breadth of distance had been her saving grace, because now she felt every inch of his hard— “You’re awake?” He nibbled her ear. “Can’t sleep.” A warm hand flattened over her belly, centered right above her core, his pinky so close it heated every inch of flesh south of his teasing touch. Her thighs
softened. Lauren twisted, trying to put some air between their bodies, but the movement aggravated the head wound, sending stabbing pain to her temples. Lauren froze and the pain slowly ebbed, but memories of the last twenty-four hours came flooding back. Ryder tightened his hold. “Stay on your side. You’ll do less damage that way.” She was already damaged, and it wasn’t the injuries. They’d heal, but the time in the trunk and that sick suburban bedroom haunted her. A shiver washed over her body. “Don’t think about last night.” How did he know? “Easy for you to
say.” “Not easy.” Ryder pushed her hair aside and nibbled her neck. “Last night was the worst of my life.” “Right.” He’d handled it, without hesitation and sporting a knife wound that would have sent most men to the ER. No one she knew could have followed her and eliminated the threat. “You’ve been in war. I’m sure you’ve seen more —” “War’s different. The name of each man I’ve lost is tattooed on my soul. But we continue the mission. We go home. We live to honor the dead.” The words saddened her, gave her hope. Ryder never talked about his work; rarely mentioned the team and
never—ever—talked about why he left the Army. When he slipped and mentioned someone from the team, he’d get this hard look in his eyes, and he’d fall silent. It was like he lived two separate lives, and it hurt that he wouldn’t share all of himself with her, but maybe he couldn’t. Maybe the memories were simply too hard. Too much. “If anything happened to you, Lauren, it would shred my soul.” His gravelly voice lowered to a rough whisper. The words sounded like a vow. “You keep me human. So yes, last night was the worst of my life.” He tightened his arm around her midsection. ”I’m going to be a complete prick until we fix
this situation. Your safety is my number one priority.” She’d never been anyone’s number one priority. As much as she wanted the words, she didn’t trust them. “That sounds ominous. What does this priority treatment entail?” “I’m your constant companion.” As conditions went, that one didn’t sound too awful. “You don’t leave this room without me.” Cooped up in the room with him sounded tempting, but no way could she keep her distance if they were in each other’s space twenty-four hours a day. She was strong, but not stone cold. “That’s not feasible.”
“Get on board now, Professor.” The hand he held at her waist knotted into a fist. “I won’t go through another night like last night, not knowing what they were doing to you. Knowing I failed to protect you.” Her heart did a slow roll. “What happened is hardly your fault.” “We can argue this all night, but nothing you say will change my mind. And I can think of a dozen different things I’d rather do.” He released his fist, and his entire body relaxed behind her. “All of them end with you screaming my name.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN The spit dried in Lauren’s mouth. Reality condensed to Ryder’s words, the brush of his breath behind her ear, and the length of his hard body against her back. The thin fabric of her nightshirt was no protection from his heat. Memories flushed her skin. Her pulse jumped. Keeping her distance seemed futile, and had been since he’d owned her body in the tub, leaving her wanting more. Him. She needed him more than she needed sleep, more than she needed to finish her dissertation, more than she needed to protect her heart. The hair on his legs tickled the
back of her thighs as he shifted. She swallowed. “Say yes.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth and nipped. He knew her erogenous zones and used them like a pro. The bite spiked nerves straight to her nipples and sent a cool burn over her skin. His talented hands slipped under her shirt and teased from her hips to her chest. Back and forth, stopping under the breastbone on one end and her pubic bone on the other. The other hand wrapped around to hold her in place. Delicious torture. “Ryder.” “Hmm?” The question a hum behind her ear. He kissed his way to her shoulder.
Fight the inevitable? She wasn’t that strong. “Yes.” He chuckled low as if her response was preordained. Maybe it was. Denying him gave her no pleasure, while his mouth and his caress promised to send her into orbit. She needed his weight on her. “Let me turn.” Her voice sounded breathy. “No.” He cupped one breast and ran a thumb over her nipple. “It’ll hurt your head.” The throb of her injuries faded and all she felt was his body wrapped around her, hotter and tighter than any blanket. “I need—” “Let me.” He ran a hand down her thigh to her knee, sending delicious chills everywhere his calloused hands
brushed. He lifted her leg and wrapped it over his muscular thigh, opening her. Her breath hitched. He adjusted, wrapping his other hand under her and around her breast. The other teased up and down her thigh, getting closer to her core with each pass. Surrounded by him, she opened herself completely. Accepting his touch, his control. He responded with a growl against her neck. The vibration traveled straight to her core. “Ryder, please. Touch me.” “I am.” He continued the soft caress, each time inching closer to where she needed him most. She arched, or tried to, but he held her immobile. Her hands, however, were
free. She reached back to grab his very nice ass. He flexed in response, and his erection hardened against her backside. She pressed her groin back to meet the thrust. So close. “I need you inside me.” “Not yet.” He ran a finger through her folds. “You’re so wet. For me.” “No one else,” she admitted. No one else had ever taken over her body the way Ryder had. The way he did as he circled her cl*t, before dipping lower, teasing her entrance. She pressed forward, into his fingers, and he slammed her back into his groin. They groaned as he tormented them both. She dropped back and twisted to see him. Fierce and focused, his expression had her clenching; striving
for what only he could give her. Then his dark eyes shifted to meet her gaze. His eyes glowed like velvet moss on river rocks. Soft, green, and fathomless. They wore away the last of her barriers. “Lauren.” The anguish in his voice ripped her apart. She’d never be able to keep her distance. Not when he was so raw. Not when he kept her strung so tight. Lauren stopped fighting the love and lust; she gave in to his unspoken demands. When his lips took hers, she opened fully. When his hands skimmed, electricity rode her skin. He didn’t simply take control; he took possession. He owned her mouth, her tongue, and the spike of desire flowing off him and into
her. They shared one breath, one insatiable hunger, one deep, dark desire. His tongue thrust inside as his erection thrust between her legs, brushing her entrance. She moaned into his mouth. With his free hand, he lifted her thigh. Seconds later, he thrust into her, hard. Lauren arched back as he thrust forward, meeting him thrust for grinding thrust. He filled her. Completely. Each stroke rubbed the nerves around her entrance. Each time he bottomed out, his balls flexed against sensitive flesh, sending more sensations winging through her body. He pressed deeper, hitting a spot that heightened the spiraling need to frenzy. The org*sm threatened, her nerves ready to explode, but she
resisted. It had been too long, and God knew when they’d get here again, so right now, she fought to stay on the precipice. The ratcheting tension tightened her abs, her core, every muscle fought to extend the moment. “Come for me.” His fingers circled her cl*t in time to his thrusts and she lost the fight. The org*sm shattered the marginal control she had on her body. Wave after wave squeezed her around him while he continued to pound, stretching her, elongating the pleasure. Squeezing him tight in her core, she knew why the org*sm in the tub failed to satisfy. She needed him inside her. The breath caught in her throat as she held
back the scream dying to get out. “God, baby, you feel so tight.” He groaned against her neck and curled around her, surrounding her. He moved faster, extending her org*sm until he jerked inside her. Lauren moaned his name, unable to stay silent when her body quivered with sensations too great to contain. He continued his thrusts through his org*sm, keeping her body wound up to the last. The closeness exceeded her expectations. With Ryder inside, she felt whole. Lauren swallowed as pure emotion followed the physical release. The intensity wasn’t simply that he knew her body, that he knew how to bring her the most pleasure. It was Ryder. His soul
owned hers. She was lost without him. And right now, he seemed equally lost. Equally touched by the way their bodies fit together. Tears filled her eyes. Loving Ryder had never been a choice. No armor, no barrier was strong enough to keep him out. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. They stayed connected while their ragged breath filled the darkness. When he pulled out, he lifted her thigh from his and she’d never felt so empty. Not her body, but her soul. Life without Ryder was the definition of hell. How could she convince him to stay, because the hollowness of her existence without him was unacceptable?
Ryder stared at the ceiling and waited for the clock to strike three. The blankets covered him to his waist while the night cooled his skin. Deep dark settled, centering him as little else did. He hadn’t meant to make love to Lauren. Her response wasn’t what he expected. He thought she’d resist for days. He’d prepared himself to wait and woo, to climb the walls she’d tried to erect between them, but sleep had stolen her reluctance. She had been warm and willing. Would she regret it when she
woke the next morning? Blame him? She damn well should. He blamed himself. The marks on her face hadn’t started to fade, yet he had forced himself on her like a dog. She was injured, and all he’d been able to think about was burying his co*ck in her heat. She deserved better. A loud thunk preceded the hum of the heater, smelling of dust and memories. When they first started dating, Lauren’s grad school apartment had a similar setup with the same crappy heater and musty carpet, same sweet smelling woman at his side, and the musky scent of sex rising off the sheets. Even now, he couldn’t control his body’s response. Desire warmed his skin, a mix
of memory and the soft woman lying on his right arm. Her dark hair washed over his shoulder and down his side like a silken web. She wasn’t his usual type. He’d known she was too good for him from the beginning. Too smart and too set on a career path that was a thousand miles out of his league. She was a college professor and he was a grunt. Not in anyone’s estimation did they belong together, but he’d taken one look at her in short shorts, with her long dark curls cascading to her heart-shaped ass, and he’d had to pursue. For the first time, fearlessness had had a purpose beyond war. The pursuit of Lauren was accomplished with the
exactness of a military exercise. Failure was not an option. The first night they stayed up talking in the diner, between late night coffee and breakfast waffles, she’d blown him away. Smart and sexy with the hint of a Texas drawl that even Dr. Crawford could not eradicate. Through all her brilliance, classes and research and teaching, she’d held tight to her identity. Lauren’s personality matched her big heart and her boundless energy. Hell, she called Smythe a carpetbagger and threatened to castrate him. She fought back when men tried to take her. She’d broken a man’s nose. Twice. Ryder grinned into the silent night. His woman was no coward, but he
might be. Worry whispered through his mind like madness. Mad Dog had refused to leave his family, and in the end, it had cost all of them their lives. Ryder swore he’d find a way to leave before anything happened to Lauren. The alarm on his watched beeped softly. Zero three hundred. Last wakeup call. The light on his watch flickered on and off like a heartbeat. He pressed the button to dim the light that would have woken him if he’d succumbed to sleep. Not that he slept. Not with her tucked into his side. He enjoyed every last second, knowing each one could be the last. To avoid lying on her wounded head, she’d settled on her side, her
sweet ass pressed into his side. He turned into her and she ground her backside into his groin, naturally seeking the sweet spot where his body curved around hers. Ryder inhaled the smell of her shampoo. Sugar and spice. So damned sweet he went back for another hit, ran his lips along the soft side of her neck. “Baby, wake up.” She snuggled closer causing his dick to stir. Ryder scooted back. He was not going to jump her again. He gently shook her shoulders. “Ry?” The sleep rough voice grabbed him by the balls. He exhaled. “Yeah?” “I’m awake.” She grabbed his arm and tucked it between her breasts, where
she hugged it close. The other arm was trapped under her neck. Ryder closed his eyes to soak in the weight and the scent. The heavy swell of her breast rubbed his skin, making his arm hair stand on end. Every nerve in his body slammed awake. “Last wakeup call, but you still need sleep.” He arched his hips away so he wasn’t pressing against her, leaving him awkwardly hunched. The spicy scent of her perfume tied him in her web. He’d gladly stay there for eternity, bound to her. He’d gladly forget the troubles barreling down on them, but trouble had a way of finding you, no matter how well you hid. She curled her body closer until they were snuggled together in a tight
ball. “Quit trying to be good.” Lauren took the hand she’d hugged and pressed it over her breast. Her nipple pebbled under his fingers, and the argument in his head disintegrated in the light of new developments. He rubbed the nipple under his palm, using the fabric of her shirt to tease it to a tight peak before moving to the other side. How many nights had he dreamed of holding her in his arms, spooning, enjoying every inch of her sweet ass pressed against him while his hands explored her full breasts? Every single night without her. The cost of keeping her safe. Moaning low, Lauren leaned her hips back until she rubbed his erection, creating delicious friction. Reminding
him of the way she moaned his name when she came. Damn but he wanted that again. His co*ck jerked against her bare skin. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She slid a hand up his thigh. “As long as I don’t lay back on my injury, I’m fine.” Not what he’d meant. He didn’t want to hurt her the way he had after Mad Dog’s suicide. Or the way Mad Dog had hurt Maggie. As if sensing his uncertainty, Lauren removed her hand from his leg. Instead of moving away, however, she yanked off the nightshirt before turning to face him. She traced a hand along his whiskered jaw. “Now who’s the one thinking too much?”
“I—” He shook his head to clear the haze her touch induced. “You can’t want this.” “You don’t get to decide for me.” Lauren levered up to kiss his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed against her lips before she trailed them lower. Her hands got busy, caressing up and down his sides before moving to his back. The feathery brush of her fingers moved lower to knead his ass. His hips jerked, the response instinctive. Damn, but she knew his triggers. She kissed down his chest, giving low moans of appreciation. The brush of her nipples against his abs acted like a match and tinder, igniting an insatiable flame. He tossed the blankets off. The room was
too freaking hot. “Lauren, baby.” She glanced up; her dark lashes shielding her eyes. He fisted his hands to keep from tossing her onto her back and pounding into her sweet, wet core. “Baby, slow down.” Her tongue circled his belly button while her hand circled his erection, teasing to the point of pain. “Lauren.” The moan bordered on agony. “Slow the f*ck down.” She nipped the skin along his hipbone. “You’re not in control this time, Ryder.” “You want control?” His resolve snapped. He rolled to his back, taking her with him so she straddled his hips. A
flush climbed her chest and neck, her eyes lidded. The sight of her straddling him nearly had him coming against the soft skin of her inner thigh. He bit back the need. “Take control or I will.” Her smile was pure sass as she slowly, so damned slow, lifted to take him into her core. Each time she lifted and lowered to take more, coating him, the more he had to fight the org*sm tightening his balls. The moans ripping from her throat were the stuff of fantasy. He felt like a f*cking teenager with no stamina. “You’re killing me.” She smiled, her pink lips lifting in that knowing way, and she started to ride. He fisted his hands in the sheets and held the f*ck on while she tormented
him. Her full breasts wiggled with each stroke and her nipples peaked behind long, luscious curls. Ryder lost control. He grabbed her hips and seated her fully. She fisted his co*ck so damn tight he nearly came on the first stroke. He bit his lip, tasted blood, and it only fed the hunger. Her hands anchored against his chest and her long hair cascaded around them. The light brush of her hair on his bare skin set off tremors across his abs. He braced his feet on the mattress and released his iron control. He pounded her down as he thrust up. The need to drive them both to climax overpowering any restraint. Nothing existed but the feel of Lauren’s internal muscles gripping him, her moans, and the rising org*sm
stabbing down his spine. Lauren screamed his name as she tightened, milking him, and he let go. He pounded through the org*sm until she dropped her head to his chest. Depleted. They lay there, panting, bathed in sweat, until the night cooled their skin, and still, neither said a word. When their skin cooled and they’d gained their breath, she slid down to curl into his side. “I love you, Ryder,” she whispered. The words sent his heart soaring, only to crash moments later. In the back of his head, he heard Mad Dog’s words. They’re my life.
CHAPTER TWELVE Lauren woke alone, the pillow beside her cool to the touch. A sliver of light shone through the cheap blackout curtains. She curled onto Ryder’s side of the bed and hugged the pillow to assuage the dull ache in her chest. The smell of leather and man was already fading like a ghost in the light of day. Damn him for leaving. But damn her more for thinking he wouldn’t. Last night had fooled her. For so long, she’d wanted him back that she mistook their physical connection for an emotional one. What they’d shared could only be considered carnal, but nothing substantial had changed between them.
Truth was, Ryder was a wish on a midnight star, and she’d wished things would be different this time around until she almost started to live the words on her nightshirt: I want to believe. In the pitch of night, Ryder had stopped treating her like she was breakable. He’d used her, in the best sense of the word, and had wrung every ounce of pleasure from her body without worrying or holding back. In the afterglow, before her brain had reengaged, she’d said those damning words. I love you, Ryder. God, what an idiot. Of course he’d run. The hurt of his rejection pulverized her insides. He hadn’t said the words back to her, hadn’t said them since he’d been back in town.
Was he emotionless? Did his last deployment destroy his capacity for love? Lauren pushed off the bed and yanked the covers over the tangled sheets. No more pity party. She pulled her bag off the stand and headed to the bathroom. A damp towel dangling on the shower rod was the only sign Ryder had been in the room. He hadn’t so much as left a trace of stubble from his razor behind. Lauren stuttered to a stop in the doorway of the uncluttered bathroom. Last night, her heart had gotten involved and flooded her mind with memories. The way he met on her on campus for lunch when he could. The way he touched her when they talked. Not
sexual, just the need for human contact that had seemed sweet and a little sad. Ryder was hungry for love and for a place to call home, and she’d tried to build that for both of them, but he’d still left her without warning. Planned to the same this time around. Maybe he already had. The ache in her chest grew to a gaping, pulsing wound. She grabbed her phone from the overnight bag. No texts. No messages. Dread twisted her up inside as she dialed Ryder’s newest phone number. The call went straight to voicemail. It wasn’t even his voice, but the computer generated prompt. She hung up without leaving a message. The bag in her hand slipped to the
hard tile. The numb gray world between hope and dread washed through her. She’d lived in the gray area once. The first week after Ryder left, she’d lived in bed, by the phone, waiting for a man who wasn’t coming home. When she’d recovered enough, she’d trekked downstairs to the half-painted living room where the paint tray and brushes from their decorating project were still waiting. Ruined by dried paint and neglect, they ended up in the big dumpster with the rest of the garbage. The smell of fresh paint still made her sad. This time, Lauren couldn’t lie to herself. Ryder wasn’t coming back. He had the ‘I walk alone’ thing down to an art form. Fine by her. He could work
alone, live alone, and love alone. She didn’t need a man to be whole. Lauren’s hand shook as dialed Debi. “Can you come pick me up?” Debi paused. “Everything okay?” A knot formed in her throat. “Peachy. Just—” She cleared her throat. “Just pick me up. And bring the tip jar off my dresser.” “Where are you?” In hell. Lauren grabbed the notepad from beside the bed and recited the address. Debi promised to get there soon, then rang off. Lauren took her shower, brushed her teeth, fixed her hair, and locked the pain in the pit of her heart. In the mirror, she avoided her own gaze as she brushed mascara on her
lashes. No, it wasn’t avoidance. She was not, under any circ*mstances, crying today. After she dressed in yesterday’s clothes—skinny jeans, tall boots, and Ryder’s leather—she flipped open the curtains. The sun’s glare reflected off the deserted parking lot. Light stabbed through her eyes to lodge a dagger in the brain. She blinked several times to adjust to the brightness and felt the answering throb around her eye. Her body was battered, and her soul echoed like a hollow tomb. Before she had time to turn into a raving lunatic, Debi’s little economy car pulled into the lot. The bright orange VW was too cheery, so Lauren pulled on
sunglasses to dim the reflection. The large frames covered the purple and black bruises rimming her eyes. She buckled into her seat before looking over at her friend. “Let’s go spend the money in my tip jar.” “I thought you were saving that money for a rainy day.” “Honey, it’s pouring.” Debi put the car into reverse. “That’s how it is?” “Yep.” As they left the motel, Lauren didn’t look back.
Ryder watched Smythe go about his morning routine. The realtor didn’t know his days as head-asshole were numbered. So Ryder and Rose watched, took notes, and waited. This part of any operation sucked. Especially when they didn’t know what the hell they were looking for. Ryder sipped coffee from a lidded to-go cup. The stale brew burnt his taste buds. A breeze blew through the open passenger window, keeping the temperatures low in the cab of Rose’s
pickup. The radio was off, but traffic kept the silence from becoming awkward. Rose hadn’t said a word since Ryder had rousted him from sleep at zero-dark-thirty. “What did you find out from the owners of the meth house?” “Spoke to the wife. She didn’t know it was a meth house.” “Figured as much. Did they know Smythe?” “Oh yeah, she couldn’t wait to burn his ass. She—” Rose yanked his sunglasses off and tossed them on the dash. “What I know specifically is that she and her husband were separated. Husband took off with a bimbo—her words—leaving her with a kid and a mortgage. She was working with a
lawyer on a divorce when Smythe told her the bank was foreclosing. Lawyer said it was a done deal and recommended she move out so they didn’t evict her.” “And?” “And she didn’t have anywhere to go. Stay-at-home mom, deadbeat dad.” Ryder’s gut clenched. “I’m not going to like the next part.” “Nope.” A muscle flexed in Rose’s jaw. “She said she worked a deal with Smythe to stay in the house another two months before he evicted her.” “She slept with him to keep the house,” Ryder guessed. “She never said what she did, but given what he tried with Lauren, and the
fact that this woman hated Smythe more than her ex, I’d say that’s a good bet.” “Sonofabitch.” Rage rode his body like a wild stallion. “Smythe needs to pay.” “We can go to the cops with what we know.” Rose grimaced even as he said the words. “Right. Because we’re on such good terms with cops.” Ryder had spent too many hours with the sheriff after Madigan’s suicide. They questioned his service record, and then questioned and impugned his name thanks to the Section Eight discharge courtesy of the Army. No one doubted Madigan’s suicide, but the bloody mess upstairs was another question. The time of death was hours
before the showdown and Ryder wouldn’t give an alibi. He wouldn’t bring Lauren into his mess. It was obvious what had happened but the sheriff had some serious media attention on the problem. Madigan was dead, and there were still unanswered questions. Ryder became the poster child for PTSD, and the Army didn’t help because they’d declared him mentally unfit for duty. The sheriff wanted to keep him the full seventy-two hours, but Rose had broken protocol and came to bail him out. Gave Ryder an alibi, and the sheriff had ungraciously let him go. If it ended there, maybe it would go away, but he’d been at the scene of Gault’s episode,
another f*cking minute too late. “There’s more.” Rose pulled his laptop from the backpack on the seat. “Fan-f*cking-tastic.” “The call to the homeowner triggered more questions, so I did some digging. When I couldn’t get the information myself, I called Craft.” “f*ck.” Craft was communications. Tech, computers, and all around geek. “I told you to leave the team out of it.” “Craft has the skills to get into secure files.” “That sounds illegal.” “We need information, Ry. Any way we can get it.” Ryder took another sip of the bitter and now cold coffee. The door they
were watching opened after an hour of nothing. Smythe walked out with a woman half his age. He wore a gray suit with a bolo tie and a three hundred dollar pair of sh*t kickers. He plopped a cowboy hat on his head that no cowboy would be caught wearing. Dead or otherwise. As they crossed the sidewalk, Smythe put a hand on the small of the woman’s back, and then lower as they walked to his car. He held the door open for the woman, and when she hesitated, her stride hitched, Smythe leaned down to whisper in her ear. She nodded and dropped into the passenger seat. “Ballsy motherf*cker. A hundred bucks says that woman has a house in foreclosure.”
“No bet.” Rose shoved the laptop in the backpack before starting the engine. “I’d want to nail this prick even if he hadn’t messed with your wife.” Anger rose and Ryder shoved it down. He coated his veins in ice as they followed the car to a nearby seafood restaurant. “We’re going in.” “I thought we were on surveillance.” “We are. We’re surveilling this motherf*cker up close.” Rose parked the truck on the street within sight of Smythe’s car. “At the risk of beating a dead horse, going inside is a mistake.” “Then park your ass outside. I’m watching this f*cker in action.”
Rose shook his head sadly. “You’re off the reservation, son.” If he was, he’d own it. The image of Smythe’s slimy old-man hands on Lauren churned like battery acid. The need for retribution flowed through his veins as they crossed the street and got a table near the booth where Smythe was putting the moves on a redhead. They ordered before either spoke again. “You have your head screwed on well enough to finish the briefing?” Ryder tracked Smythe’s every move in his peripheral vision. “What did Craft find?” “The pattern goes back three or four years. Before that, Smythe was a no-account realtor with an office above
a pawnshop. He specialized in HUD repos.” Ryder took a drink of sweet tea. “Not much money in repos.” “Nope, and our boy likes to eat well.” He gestured at the menu prices. “Out of nowhere, he moves to an office on the better end of town. The thing is, he’s still dealing in repos and foreclosures.” “But?” “There’s a six- to eight-month lag between the time the homeowners move out and the final foreclosure paperwork.” In the dim corner booth, Smythe poured the woman another glass of wine. Ryder watched in sick fascination.
There was nothing attractive about Smythe. He was skinny and gray. Even in the dim light, his skin was sallow, and a faded bruise rimmed both eyes. “I think Lauren really did break his nose.” “Good on her.” Yeah, his wife was tough. But she shouldn’t need to defend herself. That was his job and he’d failed. He pulled out his phone and sent her a text. Need me to bring lunch? Her reply pinged back before he set the phone down. No. Well, sh*t, her pissy mood came through loud and clear. As the waitress set his salad in front of him, Ryder dialed Lauren’s phone, but it went
straight to voicemail. Definitely pissed. Ryder focused on the slimy realtor in the corner. Keeping an eye on Smythe was worth her anger. He’d make it up to her tonight. Ryder ran with the logic, because if he let his emotions take control, he’d kill Smythe without regret. “He’s kicking out families and setting up meth houses. They work for six months while the bank foreclosure goes through the system, and they pack up and move to a new location before anyone knows what they’ve done.” “The houses are all in decent neighborhoods. Not one has shown up on the police radar, at least not that Craft could find.” “Smart plan for an asshole. Any
commonalities?” The waitress brought their meals. Ryder bit into his po’boy and waited for Rose to answer. Rose took his time chewing on fish and chips while the dirtbag across the room moved closer to the woman. Even the extra wine he plied her with couldn’t keep the grimace off her face. “Let me guess. All females. All alone.” “That’s one.” They ate in silence for long minutes while Ryder beat himself up, because Rose didn’t and Lauren wouldn’t. Ryder had f*cked up. He’d left Lauren alone. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do it again. “I assume you had Craft check my records
at the mortgage company. Did any of my payments show up?” Rose swallowed the last of his fish. “No, but they didn’t go directly to Smythe’s deposits either. But, uh, that’s not all.” “Jesus, did you sleep? What more could you get in the middle of the night?” “I slept. Craft worked his magic. After interviewing the lady with the meth house, I followed a hunch. There’s one more commonality, and you’re not going to like it.” “Nothing here to like. Spill it.” “All the women were in the middle of divorces.” “Not Lauren.” Ryder’s response was instant and visceral. He’d take
down the courthouse before he let her divorce him. It was too final. Rose ran his tongue over his teeth as if he were cleaning a bad taste from his mouth. “Here’s the thing. She did go to a lawyer. The same lawyer the meth house lady used. The same one she likely did,” Rose said, gesturing across the room. Ryder pushed his plate back. “What the f*ck?” The people in the neighboring table looked over, their gazes wary. For the first time, Ryder realized he and Rose didn’t fit into the lunch crowd of men in suits talking business. They were blue jeans and t-shirts in a world of suits and ties.
“Calm your ass.” Rose grabbed Ryder’s arm to lock him into place. “Lauren only visited the lawyer once. No paperwork was filed.” “When?” It shouldn’t matter. “About a month after Madigan.” When he’d turned off his phone. He’d done it to protect her. So he wasn’t tempted to call her, because he’d needed to hear her voice more than he needed food or shelter. Hell, at the time, he had been camping in North Texas trying to get a lead on Gault. “I want copies of the lawyer’s file on Lauren.” “Ry, rolling around in the details is a bad idea.” “Just do it. And while you’re at it, try to identify the woman with Smythe
right now. I’ll see you outside.” He rose and swayed like he’d had too much to drink. “Don’t ruin our f*cking cover.” “Would I do that?” “Yes.” Rose grabbed some bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table. “Dumb f*ck,” he muttered under his breath. Ryder grinned before heading straight for the corner booth. He stumbled into the table. He reached out a hand to steady himself and knocked the glass of wine onto the woman’s lap. She yelped. He apologized with just enough of a slur to have Smythe pitching a fit, but Ryder boxed the older man into the booth.
The woman muttered foul words at Ryder as she slipped from the booth. She sashayed down the hall in a snit. “Sorry,” Ryder slurred. “Didn’t mean to spill wine on your granddaughter like that.” Rose slipped past on his way to the bathrooms. Smythe sputtered. “She’s not my granddaughter.” “Daughter then? Sorry, not seeing so well. Must be food poisoning. Damn snotty restaurant can’t cook seafood worth a sh*t. What did you have?” He looked at Smythe’s plate. “Steak and lobster? Me too.” Ryder hunched closer and gagged like he was ready to hurl. “Get away from my table you stupid Neanderthal.”
“Watch who you call names.” Ryder straightened his shoulders and focused his seriously pissed-off gaze on the bastard. “You don’t want me as an enemy.” Smythe cowered into the booth. “Do I need to call the manager?” f*cker couldn’t even stand up for himself. Ryder shook his head. “I think you got the message.” He stalked out without a single hitch or stagger. He’d given the man more warning then he should, but no way could he watch another woman fall prey to the psycho. Rose joined him in the truck a few minutes later. “Way to blow your cover, sh*thead.”
Ryder shrugged. “Did you get the woman out of the restaurant?” “She got herself out of the restaurant. No help necessary.” “Good. You stay on Smythe. I’m going back to the townhouse to see what’s what. If they setup a meth house at the last place, we can assume they’ll do the same there. When I’m done, I’ll head back to the motel.” Where he and his wife would have a little chat.
The FOR SALE sign was gone, no
longer needed now that Lauren had signed the last of the paperwork. Smythe and company had apparently thought of everything. Ryder passed one of his neighbors in the parking lot. “Sorry to hear you’re moving,” the man said. He worked on post. Callahan, maybe? “Me too.” Ryder didn’t offer an explanation. “I have to head back to post.” Callahan shook his hand. “Let me know if you need help packing the U-Haul.” “Sure thing.” Ryder waited for the man to drive off before walking around back and hopping the fence. He climbed to the back balcony and jimmied the sliding door open to get inside. He
walked the silent house. She’d left the drapes hanging. It had taken her a week to decide on the right colors to match the comforter. The sight of the curtains hanging in the derelict house stirred up uncomfortable memories and more than a little guilt. He’d liked setting up house with her. Neither had had a stable home life as kids. She’d wanted to put their stamp on the place and after the failed last deployment, he’d jumped in with both feet. They spent more time in the furniture store and the lumberyard than they did the bedroom. Ryder shook his head. No, not really, but they had traipsed from place to place, buying every little thing to turn the nondescript
townhouse into a home. Now the furniture was gone, but divots still gouged the carpet showing where they’d had the bed and dresser. Ghosts followed him down the stairs. The sun cast a shadow of red and blue on the stairwell. The stained glass she’d found at an antique shop still hung in the high window. She probably hadn’t been able to reach it when she’d moved out. The downstairs smelled empty, a little musty and dusty. Abandoned. There were nails still in the wall where she’d hung artwork. A ragged edge of paint marked the line between the dining room and the kitchen. They’d been painting the day Madigan called. He’d dropped everything and went to help. And left
Lauren to clean up the mess. Ryder rubbed a hand over his eyes. The right thing was to stay with his wife and protect her from assholes like Smythe, but the only way to truly protect her was to stay the f*ck away. He was the dangerous one. When the sheriff had shown him pictures of Madigan’s wife and kid, Ryder had gone absolutely still. He’d seen the horror of war, but the crime scene photos were pure evil. If what they’d done to Ryder when he’d transferred to Team Fear endangered Lauren, if for one second he thought he could do damage to the woman he loved, he’d end himself. He hadn’t been able to go back to her, knowing that the same thing that f*cked with Madigan’s brain
swam through his blood. But he’d left her unprotected. Was this empty, soulless house the cost? Ryder drifted through the shadows, opening doors and cabinets, finding nothing left of the hope they’d tried to build together. It was his first and only home, and he’d only stayed four months. Lauren deserved so much better. Ryder punched the steel door leading to the garage. He wondered what she did with his tools and the paint. He opened the garage to find a pile of supplies sitting where her truck usually parked. He stalked into the dim, cold space. Black plastic covered the small windows in the garage door. The garage door opener had been disconnected. In
the center were stacks of supplies. Heavy plastic and more of the same sh*t he’d found at the meth house the night he found Lauren. Someone was moving into their house of broken dreams, and they were bringing a full lab. Ryder snapped pictures with his smart phone and sent them to Rose, and then he retraced his steps to the front door. The lockbox was missing from the front knob, because Smythe and associates didn’t want anyone walking into their shady business. Ryder’s heart slammed into his chest. He needed to find Lauren, because whoever was setting up shop meant business, and Lauren didn’t fall into line with Smythe the way the other victims
had. She was wearing a big f*cking target and once again, he’d left her alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN As the day cooled and the sun slanted towards evening, Lauren dropped into the bar to pick up her paycheck. She and Debi had depleted her tips when they went to lunch and the mall. Debi talked her into a new pair of boots, which she needed like another ride in the trunk of a stolen car, but according to Debi, recovery from a bad relationship required a spree. Food. Shopping. Booze. In that order. They’d blown through her cash at the mall, so Lauren needed her check to pay for the final step in her recovery plan. The manager was tending bar this afternoon, so Lauren headed straight for
him. Debi waited in the car, afraid he’d call her in if things were busy. The bar traffic looked steady with a few military guys, students, and a rowdy group of cowboys sitting at the bar. Nothing Frank couldn’t handle himself. When Frank finished pouring a whiskey for the guy at the other end of the bar, he headed her way. “What happened to your face?” “Oh, yeah, that.” No wonder the gal at the shoe store gave Lauren that bless her heart look. Lauren touched her jaw, which was the body part that wouldn’t stop throbbing. “Car accident—” “Did you hit a Mack truck?” “Not exactly. I need the next few days off.”
“Sure. You try to serve beer looking like that, you’ll blow your tips to hell.” “Thanks, Frank. That’s what I was worried about.” The sarcasm came naturally. “Do you have my check?” He dug through the file box beneath the cash register and pulled out an envelope with her name. The amount made her bank account cry. “Do you have enough in the register to cash it for me?” The rolls on his belly bounced when he laughed. “I think I can count that high.” She signed the back of the check and grabbed the very small stack of bills he laid on the bar. “I’ll give you a call to
let you know when I’m back on the schedule.” “If you’re more than a week, I’ll have to hire someone new.” “You’re all heart, Frank.” She pocketed the money and headed for the door. A couple guys in the corner booth called her over by name. When she stepped closer, she recognized the soldiers who’d bought drinks for the coeds. Baby Face Joe was missing— he’d found his college girl—but the other three sat in the booth sucking back draft beer. They looked similar, same height and breadth, same high and tight haircut. Actually, they were big for guys their age, but they couldn’t hide their smooth boyish faces.
“I’m not working today,” she said before they could ask for another round. “But I can call your waitress over.” “Wait.” The guy on the end grabbed her arm, his grip deceptively strong. The hair on her arm stood on end, and panic pounded her chest, but she took a deep breath. Just because two losers had attacked her the other night didn’t make all men assholes. The soldiers seemed decent, but she still extricated her arm from his grasp. “Sorry.” His faced flushed pink. “We were just wondering, if, uh, you’ve seen the girls from the other night.” Geez. “Sure, they slipped me a note in history class.” “Sucker.” The guy next to him
jabbed an elbow in the soldier’s rib. “She burned you, Hedrick.” Hedrick’s face went from pink to flaming red. “If you see them—” “Sorry, I’m not a messenger.” She turned, but the soldier hopped out of the booth and followed her several steps. “Ma’am.” Hedrick didn’t grab her this time, but rather dogged her steps. His height surprised her. She’s always seen the soldiers seated in the booth, but he dwarfed her, standing nearly as tall as Ryder. Her heart rate jumped. “Please.” He hunched his shoulders. “We had a good time the other night, and I don’t have a way to get ahold of Anna.” Lauren stopped at the entryway. “I can’t give you her number.” And man,
she sounded heartless. Not every soldier was a jerk. Just the one she’d married. Despite the guy’s size, Hedrick seemed sincere in a sweet Midwest way. One more pout from his puppy dog eyes and she caved. “Check with your friend Baby Face. He may have a way in for you.” “Really?” The guy’s dark brows lifted. “No wonder he wasn’t in the barracks today.” Lauren smiled. “You boys stay out of trouble.” She walked out the door and straight into hard-packed flesh. “Sorry.” She looked up into Ryder’s hard eyes. “Or not.” She pushed off his chest, but he grabbed her forearms and held on. Hedrick was easy to brush off, but
Ryder’s grip was immutable. The boy inside was just as tall, similar weight, but Ryder sent her heart into near convulsions with a touch. He wasn’t even skin-to-skin, but rather rubbed her forearms through the leather jacket. Lauren took a deep breath. Theirs was an unhealthy cycle she needed to break. “Why didn’t you stay in the motel room?” “Hi, Ryder, how are you? Great, my day was so-so after waking up alone, but yeah, thanks for asking.” His eyes narrowed. “The motel? Why did you leave?” The wind picked up, sending a chill shivering up her body. “So you actually
went back to the motel?” A tick twitched in his right cheek. “Of course.” “Pardon me for doubting you.” She resorted to sarcasm to put a little distance between them. His warmth so close weakened her resolve. She needed to stay away from the man who would surely be the emotional death of her. Even so, he had gone back to the motel room. “We discussed this yesterday. Stay down, stay safe.” “I was taking care of myself long before you showed up, and I’ll be taking care of myself when you leave.” Her voice hitched on the last phrase. God help her, but she didn’t want Ryder to
leave. “It’s about your safety. I’m not being a jackass.” “Sure you are. Stay. Sit.” She shrugged, but the back of her eyes stung. “I’m not a dog, Ryder, and I’m certainly not staying locked in room without food and water. Even jail feeds you.” “That’s not—” He let go of her arms. “I was worried.” “Right.” Lauren stepped back. “As you can see, I’m fine.” She stepped around him, but he followed to Debi’s car. “What do you want, Ryder?” “You.” Lauren bit back the sarcastic response. She peeled off his jacket and handed it to him.
“It’ll get cold when the sun goes down,” Ryder said. “Keep the jacket.” And have his scent surrounding her? “No thanks. I have plans, so whatever you have on your mind, it’ll wait.” “We followed Smythe. Ran a background check.” Curiosity wasn’t enough to keep her with Ryder. Her shields were in tatters. She needed time to shore up her defenses before she spent any time alone with her husband. Her heart couldn’t afford another night like the last one. “Good for you. If you’ll excuse me—” “I learned some things today. It’s not simply about Smythe anymore.” Ryder moved in front of her. “We need to
talk.” “Not today we don’t, because believe me, you don’t want to talk to me right now.” She’d seriously lose her sh*t if he didn’t let her go. Debi stepped from the car, but stayed tucked behind the driver’s door. “Problem?” “Nope. Ryder was just leaving.” “O-kay.” Debi looked between the two. “I need to talk to my wife.” His emphasis on the word wife spiked her heart rate. “Not tonight, Ryder.” Debi stepped around the car and escorted Lauren to the passenger side. Lauren scooted into the seat.
Debi settled between Lauren and Ryder. “It’s girls night, and you are definitely not female.” Ryder peered around Debi. “Lauren, it’s not safe. Those men tracked you for days. They know your habits, your schedule. They know you’re staying with Debi.” Chills raced up her bare arms. The reminder of the kidnappers did an effective job of shutting her down. “I appreciate your concern.” Or was he manipulating her with fear? She jumped back out of her seat. “You know what, I really don’t appreciate your concern. Damnit, Ryder. I woke up in an empty bed. Again. Because leaving is your freaking M.O.”
“I didn’t leave you,” Ryder said. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “I had work.” “Which you didn’t bother to tell me. The room looked like you sent a cleaning crew to erase all evidence you’d ever been there.” “Habit.” “Nice habits you have. Tells me everything I need to know. You ditched me in the motel room without a word. No note. No way to contact you. Didn’t give me a way to leave, or even eat for that matter. What did you expect? That I’d stay?” She arced her arms wide, unable to keep the anger inside. And if she were honest, it wasn’t anger, but hurt. After the soul-stealing night of hot
monkey sex, Ryder had packed up and moved out. “I’m not some grunt you can order around.” “Baby—” “Call me that again and I’ll castrate you.” She bit down the words wanting free—the anger and the hurt and the merciless tears—because she’d already decided. No tears today. Dang it. Grinding her teeth aggravated her aching jaw. “Ryder, now is not the time.” The muscle twitching beneath his high cheekbone was the only sign of emotion. His eyes were empty and his muscles loose and relaxed. She hated when he was all cool and calm. “Be pissed at me, Lauren. But you can be angry and still use that massive brain of
yours. You need protection.” Lauren wanted to deny him, but the bruises hadn’t faded yet. The circle around her eye throbbed like a bad tooth. Still, tonight was not the night for them to get into it. She was too volatile and he was too smooth. “You can keep watch. From outside. But I swear to God, Ryder, if you even think about talking to me before noon tomorrow, we’re done.” She took her seat and slammed the car door. Debi backed out of the spot and into traffic. Ryder stayed this time, his eyes shadowed with the secrets he held inside. Lauren turned so she didn’t witness his eyes following them down the road. “Damn, girl, you’re hard.”
“I’m not feeling particularly soft right now. And I really don’t want to think.” “Margaritas?” Frozen margaritas were Debi’s specialty. “Absolutely.” Lauren rubbed the groove in her ring finger where her wedding ring ought to be. “Diamonds are nice, but margaritas are forever.”
Lauren settled into Debi’s sofa, feeling emotionally adrift and ready to sink. The more she drank, the more she
doubted, the deeper the cushions cradled her backside. Another drink or two and she’d be up to her neck in microsuede. “You know what we’ve never done?” Debi rose from the couch and wove a crooked path to the farm kitchen. The walls were still her mother’s sunny yellow and the cabinets were older than both women combined, but the homey kitchen boasted plenty of windows and sunny vibes. “What’s that?” Lauren’s brain was moving at the speed of a lumbering ox. She glanced at the clock on her phone. Ugh, why did she stay up this late when she wasn’t working at the bar? “Taken a girls’ trip. Vegas, New Orleans, hell, at this point, a drive to
Tucson would suffice.” “We couldn’t both get time off from the bar, because Frank has no heart.” “I could convince him.” Debi winked from across the room, but Lauren was seeing two of her. “A trip is not on my horizon. Between the townhouse, teaching, and writing my dissertation—not to mention working at the bar—my time is not my own.” “Hmm.” Debi measured ingredients into a blender, her bartender hands steady, even if her legs appeared to wobble a bit on her very stylish and impractical black heels. “Exactly why you need a trip.” The blender crunched the ice,
making conversation impossible unless they wanted to yell. When the racket stopped, Debi brought a fresh saltrimmed glass filled with liquid courage. Tequila. Her stomach revolted with a lurch Lauren pushed down. What were they talking about? Debi slipped off her heels, losing four inches in height, but the sudden movement made Lauren’s head spin. Three margaritas in—or was it four— and Lauren was having a hard time following the conversation. Instead, her thoughts turned to Ryder, who was no doubt watching the house from a secure location. The flush rising up her chest was either pissed-off female, or thoughts about the man who got her off three
times last night. Shoot. The relaxed muscles were probably a testament to the second and third org*sms, not the liquor. Lauren licked the salt off the rim before swallowing a huge gulp of frozen margarita. A brain freeze numbed her entire head. The good thing about tequila? No pain. “Ryder’s going to leave,” she blurted, because the emotional pain didn’t ease with alcohol. “When he figures out what happened with the townhouse. And the kidnapping.” She took another sip. “He’s going to bail. Hit the dusty trail. Adios muchacha.” Debi climbed over the back of the sofa to sit. “Did he say that or are you
projecting?” “He said it. Clear as day.” How had he said it? You’re better of without me. The words stabbed her heart. Who was he to tell her what was in her best interest? The last six months without him had not been better. They’d been infinitely worse. “How do you feel about him leaving?” Like death warmed over. Her chest felt hollow and her eyes burned. “What are you, a shrink?” Debi plopped her margarita onto the table next to Lauren’s. “I’m not saying Ryder is in the clear. He has some sins to atone for, but you complicate things. Your brain is clouded with
doubts, and it’s a big brain, so there’s more room to worry. It all comes down to one thing. Quit living your mother’s life.” “Whoa. Those are fighting words.” Lauren stood for the first time since getting to Debi’s. Her head did a loopthe-loop around the room. She rested her butt on the arm of the sofa. “I’m nothing like my mother. She’s an uneducated, unhappy, underemployed, and overemotional mess.” “And you’re nothing like her.” Debi smiled primly. “Of course I’m not.” “Exactly, so quit living as if you’re going to make her mistakes.” “I’m not. I married a soldier, sure,
but that had nothing to do with good old Abigail.” She hadn’t been able to resist Ryder’s sweet sincerity and persistence. “Right. But then you unpacked your bags and waited for him to pack his.” Debi grabbed her hand. “You’ve already proven you won’t make your mother’s mistakes. Make new mistakes instead of moping and waiting for the messy ending.” Lauren brought a hand to her spinning head. “Are you calling Ryder a mistake?” “The opposite, actually. The pain inside him is palpable. He loves you so much the chemistry and the tension affects everyone in the room with you. I don’t claim to know what’s going on or
why he left, but it’s time you faced it.” “Oh, the horror.” Lauren dropped her head back to stare at the plaster ceiling. Her head did a quick spin around the block. Standing up had mixed the alcohol into her bloodstream, but that wasn’t what had her pulse surging. Her heart couldn’t take another round with him. “Why should I?” “He changed you. You’re more outgoing, less afraid, and more alive than I’ve ever seen you. The happiness and the energy shining off you when you’re together could light the entire city of El Paso, but you put a lid on it. You’ve been waiting for him to walk out the door from the moment he moved in. You never gave him a chance to stay.”
“Wow, that’s just plain mean to say.” Lauren slid back into the corner she’d recently vacated. Debi might have a point, but Lauren’s inebriated brain was having a hard time following. “You’re saying I planned for him to leave? That I may as well have packed his bags?” At Debi’s nod, Lauren continued. “Even if that’s true, leaving was his choice, not mine.” “How does it feel to be right all the time?” The smug satisfaction hurt her heart. One look at the margarita glass and her stomach churned. “Like crap. What did you put in those drinks?” “Tequila. You’ve never been able to handle tequila.”
Lauren squinted to the other end of the couch. It wasn’t long, but it was like looking through a tunnel. “You seem fine.” Debi scooted closer and patted her leg. “That’s because I’ve been drinking virgin drinks while you’ve been sucking back the real deal.” “You are quite possibly the meanest best friend on the planet.” “Alcohol was the quickest way to get you to open up.” Lauren curled her feet onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Say what’s on your mind so I can go throw up.” “If you do, I’ll hold your hair back and clean you up afterwards. But first,
you need to listen.” Debi scooted the last few inches and put an arm around Lauren. “Ryder may be thinking about leaving or not, but what he thinks doesn’t matter.” “Well, sure it does. That’s sorta the point.” Lauren didn’t want to get attached again if all he was going to do was walk away when they finished with Smythe. The heartache wasn’t something she’d survive a second time. “First, you have to decide what you want.” “I want Ryder, but—” “Bullsh*t. Whatever excuse you were going to give, it was bullsh*t. You wanted Ryder but assumed he wouldn’t stay. The same has been true of every
boy in your life since Denny Hoskins at junior prom. You break things off first because you assume men don’t stay. You never once acted like you thought Ryder was permanent.” “We bought a house together.” “And when Smythe told you the house was in foreclosure, you didn’t question him. That’s not like you. You’re an educated and highly intelligent woman, but you never once considered that Smythe was scamming to you. You accepted his statement rather than considering that Ryder had actually paid the mortgage.” Lauren dropped her head against the soft cushions. “That’s a hell of lot of logic to throw at someone who is three
sheets to the wind.” “Honey, listen to me.” Debi grabbed Lauren’s hands and met her gaze head on. “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen with Ryder. I can’t tell you if he’s going to leave or stay, but I can tell you to stand up for what you want. If Ryder is what you want, let him know, and quit putting up with the bullsh*t. If he’s not what you want, you already know what to do.” Tears brimmed in Lauren’s eyes. The truth stabbed her dead center in the chest where it was still possible to feel pain. Fear never left her. When Ryder left on his last deployment, she hadn’t slept or eaten. As impressive as he was, no matter how strong or determined or
dedicated, he wasn’t immortal. Bullets could still kill him, taking him away just as easily as they stole her father. When Ryder transitioned out of the military, she thought he was safe. That they were safe. And then he’d walked out in the middle of painting their cute little townhouse. She dropped her head to Debi’s shoulder. “Maybe you don’t suck as a best friend.” “As best friends go, I’m pretty awesome.” “Humble too.” Lauren closed her eyes and let her head drop to her friend’s shoulder. The long moments of silence and friendship didn’t suck. “I want Ryder.” “Is that your heart talking or the
tequila?” “Both.” She laughed, a sound that ended on a sob. “Mostly my heart. I love him.” “Then fight for him.” “I will.” Lauren stood, and straightened her spine. “He’s outside right now, and I’m—” “Going to wait ‘til morning.” Debi steered her around the coffee table and down the hall to the guest bedroom. “First, you need to sober up.” “Fine.” She’d never make it across the yard in her current condition anyway. Lauren dropped onto the bed without undressing. The bed spins had her moaning. “Debi?” “Yeah?”
“I hope you find someone that makes you as crazy as Ryder makes me.” “No thanks.” Debi turned off the overhead light, but left the light in the attached bath lit. The door to the hall closed, but Lauren didn’t drift to sleep as she’d thought she would. Instead, she thought about Ryder, sitting outside, keeping her safe, even when she didn’t want him to. He was a good man and despite her very real worries, she refused to let him go.
Ryder peered into the dark night, looking for trouble in the desolate acres around Debi’s house. The view of Texas prairie wasn’t much different than the one outside Mad Dog’s front door, not a reminder he particularly enjoyed. They had parked Rose’s truck in the barn so potential intruders wouldn’t see it. Instead of hunkering down with a padded seat, a heater, and a radio, they watched the house from the wreck of Lauren’s truck. It might be covert, but it was a long way from comfortable. A foul odor, lifting on the cool night breeze, rose above the smell of dirt. “Smell that?” “Skunk. Something must have spooked it,” Rose answered.
“Plenty of coyotes. Or maybe some dumbass human stumbled into it, like in training camp right after we joined Team Fear—” “Craft walked right up to it.” A sh*t-eating grin lit Rose’s face. “City boy had never seen a skunk.” “f*cking Johnson had no sympathy.” The stench had been unbearable. Ryder mock-shivered at the memory. “He made Craft bunk down with the rest of us.” “Mad Dog wanted to kill Craft that first night. Said burying the body would take care of the smell.” “You could always count on Mad Dog to arrive at the most radical solution.” Ryder shifted in his seat to
find a comfortable spot. His ass had fallen asleep an hour ago when the lights in the house had turned off. “But he’d never seemed crazy.” “The sh*t in the upstairs of his house was as crazy at it comes.” Rose took a quick look around, his gaze sweeping thirty-hundred-and-sixty degrees. Ryder did the same, before pinning Rose with a look. “Do you think we’re destined to end up like Mad Dog?” Rose’s gaze flicked back to the plains. “I swear to God, Ryder, if I go rabid, you need to put a bullet in my brain.” The entire team would have agreed. It was the reason Mad Dog had chosen
to end his life. He couldn’t live knowing what he’d done. Ryder tilted his neck until he heard a pop as the joint released the stress. “When Captain Johnson recruited you, gave you the spiel, why did you agree?” “Doesn’t f*cking matter. I signed the papers and drank the f*cking KoolAid.” “We all did.” How many other soldiers had the captain attempted to recruit? Or had he done his homework and known who to tag for the job? “I was born for the Army, born to follow my dad into the service. Hell, the first time I took a bullet, I bled red, white, and blue. When the captain showed up, I didn’t need the sales pitch. Sign me up, I
said, before he’d finished the first sentence. Elite operations, six teams, seventy-two men. The best of the best. Fed my ego, my need to protect and defend. That was my whole goal in life. Before Lauren.” Now he had something —someone—more important to protect. Ryder popped his knuckles as he released the anger that had him fisting his hand. “I’d bet money they did a psych profile on each and everyone of us. They knew which triggers to push before they pulled us into the briefing room the first time.” Rose twisted to gaze out the rectangular window, the one that had cut the back of Lauren’s head. A brown smudge showed where her skull had hit.
Lauren’s old pickup hadn’t been in good shape before the accident, but now there was nothing left to salvage. A spring poked through the vinyl and jabbed Ryder’s low back. Cold night air wafted through the broken windows along with the odor of skunk. “I think it’s getting closer.” “Or the smell is carrying on the wind.” Rose yanked at a chunk of glass sticking out of the black seal around the back window. “Do you think Team Echo did the deed? In Kandahar?” At first, they hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t wanted to believe. Team Echo had been on a similar protocol, the same training, until they were released to do their job: to kill, without fear, without
remorse. “They did it. I had a buddy from my old unit stationed nearby. His team went in for cleanup.” Ryder’s stomach twisted. “The media didn’t exaggerate. If anything, they kept the worst details from the papers.” The world around them went silent until all Ryder heard was the crash of his own heartbeat against his ribs, the thrum of his pulse through his jugular. “They were on a different protocol.” Each of the six teams had been given a variant of the same drug designed to inhibit their response to fear. Take the fear from a soldier, and you had a damn near invincible fighting force that would storm any hill without freezing in fear. No shaking hands, no friendly fire, no
panic. It was a soldier’s wet dream. “I don’t think it matters.” Rose turned to finally meet Ryder’s gaze. Hopelessness lived in his stark features. “I don’t think the protocols were different enough to change the outcome.” Team Echo had been worse than rabid. They had turned psycho, as if losing fear had untethered the thing keeping them human. Ryder’s hope crashed as Rose confirmed his worries. “So you think we’re doomed to go out bloody.” “Given the odds? We’ll be lucky to live through the next year.” Rose yanked the triangular piece of glass free and tossed it into the clutter of food wrappers on the floor. “Don’t go
reaching for the straight jacket. Not yet, anyway. I’m fighting, but if we’re being honest, I’m one paranoid bastard right now.” “Same.” Ryder adjusted his position and the seat’s spring gouged into his side. “Bunking in a sand hut was more comfortable than this piece of junk.” Rose pointed to the side. “There’s the door. You want to take the next watch bunking on that hard-ass woodpile, be my guest.” Ryder scrubbed a hand over his face. The truck was parked off the main driveway behind a woodpile. The location gave them a view of the house and the drive leading to it. Rose hadn’t
argued about all-night surveillance. Truth was, they both appreciated a break from the crap they brought back from the desert. He didn’t want to think of it anymore. “I don’t know if I expect trouble or if I’m trying to stick close to Lauren.” The slight crescent moon had passed its zenith and edged toward the western horizon. Dawn in a few hours, that many more hours until he could finish his discussion with Lauren. “I’m just f*cking pissed at the entire f*cking situation.” Rose kept his voice low, barely above a whisper; on the off chance someone attempted something while they kept watch. “You’re just pissed you’re in the doghouse with your wife.”
“No sh*t.” Ryder hadn’t meant to leave her alone earlier today. His mind had fixated on the problem with Smythe, and his first priority was to eliminate the threat. It also gave his brain a break from fixating on Team Fear, protocols, and ultimate death. In his mind, letting Lauren sleep was an act of kindness, but she’d taken his early morning mission as abandonment. The same sh*t that had sent her to a lawyer in the first place. “I want her to lose the barriers she’s put between us.” “You brought that sh*t on yourself.” “I’m protecting her. The training and the protocols could turn us psychotic. Like Team Echo. Like Madigan. I can’t risk her.”
“On one side, you want to protect her and on the other, you want her to lower her shields.” Ryder’s breath whooshed out. Finally, someone got it. “Exactly.” “The same way Captain Johnson wanted our participation, but didn’t want to tell us the whole story, so we couldn’t change our minds.” “He said it was classified.” But they hadn’t been given the chance for informed consent. They gave their consent, underwent the trials, and then they were informed of the possible side effects. “We had a right to know. So does Lauren. Tell her. She’s a big girl. Let her make the choice.”
f*ck if Rose didn’t have the right of it. Ryder didn’t play well with others. Never had. Even in the team, he didn’t share. The same way that prick Captain Johnson had kept the side effects from them. It might be time to come clean. With everyone. Ryder brushed chunks of broken glass off the dashboard. “Where did Smythe go after I left yesterday?” Rose flipped open his notebook. His shoulders relaxed as if he were happy to change the subject. “He hit the lawyer’s office. He stayed for thirteen minutes, and then went back to his office. He left at five and went straight to his home on the better side of town.” “Another person has to be involved.”
“We’re thinking on the same lines. Someone at the bank or the mortgage company. They’re skimming mortgage payments directly off the top, but Smythe wouldn’t have that kind of access to the payments. His targets appear intentional. He’s not picking people who are behind on their mortgage, but rather couples in the midst of divorce.” Ryder wanted to keep Lauren safe, and that might mean he needed to stay away, but divorce? A rock settled in his gut. “Are the foreclosed homes all from the same mortgage company or multiple?” Rose wrote notes as he spoke. “I don’t know, but I can get Craft on that in the morning. If we really want to know
what’s going on, we need to bug Smythe’s office, his house, and his phone.” Great plan if they wanted to get arrested. Or killed. Ryder shook his head. The realtor didn’t have pockets deep enough to buy anyone who would give them a run for their money. “Have you taken a look at his financials?” “He appears solid, financially, but as far as I can tell, none of the skimmed payments go directly into his account. I’d bet money he has a stash either in cash or a hidden bank account.” Which meant they needed Craft to run more computer hacks, drawing their teammate further into Ryder’s mess. “I don’t like it.”
“I figured, but you’ll do it.” Rose flipped the notebook closed. “For Lauren.” “Asshole.” There wasn’t much heat in his tone. Rose was hitting triggers, but they existed whether Rose pushed or not. Ryder had already proven she was his weakness, so yeah, he’d involve Craft, and he’d run an off-books operation. Stateside. Because he was a f*cking idiot with a death wish. As long as they were doing it, they were doing it right. They needed to know what the hell Smythe was up to. Cops would be zero help. Besides, putting his name on a formal complaint would draw attention they didn’t need. “We don’t have any actual evidence against Smythe to take to
the police.” “We damn well know that he and the lawyer are running a scam. The question is, do we want evidence or retribution?” Ryder watched Rose beat a noiseless tune on the steering wheel. Blood marked the spot on the wheel where Lauren’s head had hit. The reminder yanked a visceral response from Ryder. The accident could have killed Lauren. He would happily end Smythe, but while fully justified in his anger, Ryder going rogue might prove to Captain Johnson that Team Fear was as unstable as Team Echo. A situation Captain Johnson had warned Ryder against. “We need to stay off the radar.
No police. No public flogging.” “That’s a fine line to walk.” Rose’s eyelid twitched. “How deep is the hole we’re standing in?” Ryder hadn’t told him about Johnson’s visit. How the f*ck did you warn your best friend he was likely on someone’s hit list? “The media surrounding Mad Dog drew some unwanted attention.” “Knowing you, that’s the understatement of the f*cking century, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw attention to yourself like you did with Mad Dog. I have my mom and sisters at home. I won’t put them at risk.” “I made a mistake with Madigan because I thought we could help. I won’t
go that route again. Our asses are on the line.” Team Echo’s mistake did not go unpunished. Less than a week after Kandahar, they experienced a training accident. Not a single man made it home. While no one had officially threatened Team Fear, the men knew the score. They’d signed up for an off-books experiment that had failed. They were loose ends. “f*ck.” “That about sums it up.” Rose tossed his notebook to the floor where it landed amongst the food wrappers. “Hello.” He smacked Ryder’s knee. “I’ve got movement down the driveway, sixty feet and closing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Ryder’s eyes narrowed in focus. “Location?” “Your five-o’clock.” Without turning—movement would draw unwanted attention—he used the side mirror to get a look down the road leading to Debi’s house. In the cracked mirror, all he saw was the long, dirt drive that eventually circled in front of the house and then wrapped back out the other side. From this angle, Ryder couldn’t see anybody. “Wildlife?” “Human. Two men, on foot.” Rose’s voice dropped, the sound too low to travel on the wind. He kept his gaze out the back window. “Brazen
motherf*ckers coming down the main road.” “Either they don’t know we’re here or they have backup coming from behind.” Ryder’s earlier nerves settled. Thoughts of Lauren, of anger and retribution faded as his body and mind focused. Intruders beat the hell out of surveillance. “Assume the worst. We could be outnumbered.” “If we wanted better odds, we should have joined the Air Force.” Rose stretched his legs, getting ready to move out. Loose and limber, Ryder relaxed. His shoulders settled. His body was awake, but no adrenaline jacked him up. He was born and bred to be a warrior.
He’d been enhanced to do it without the impediment of fear. “You take the back of the house,” he said to Rose. “Make sure no one made is inside. I’ll take these two.” Rose slid out the door like a shadow, keeping the truck between him and the intruders. Ryder tracked him as he circled the woodpile and out of sight. Ryder pulled a knife from his boot. Once Rose was clear and the men in black had passed—less than ten feet to his right— Ryder exited the driver’s side, using the woodpile as cover to come at the intruders from behind. The two men moved in tandem with hand signals and stealth, black clothes and silence. Military trained. Better than
the meth heads Smythe sent last time. The prick had to have more money than they thought if he could afford such well trained men. Or maybe the lawyer had stepped up to take out the problem. Either way, Craft needed to take a closer look at their financials. Ryder waited several long moments to make sure another team didn’t follow, and then he loped across the dirt in pursuit. In military mode, everything switched off—worries about Lauren, Smythe, the team—his entire focus became the two men in ski masks. Their eyes were rimmed with black to eliminate the glow of skin. Without training, Rose never would have seen their approach.
A part of Ryder’s mind remained aware of noise and movement on his six, but so far, he didn’t see, hear, or sense another team. The area around them stilled, as if the local wildlife hunkered down, waiting for the hunter to find its prey. The two men in front of him didn’t realize they were on the wrong side of that equation. In his element, Ryder allowed his muscles to loosen as he maneuvered closer. At the tip of the circular drive, near Debi’s orange VW, the baddies split apart. The taller man edged to the back of the house while the other dropped behind the VW to wait. They were coordinating attacks from front and back, and Ryder had no means to communicate
with Rose. He couldn’t risk pulling out his phone to text. The light would screw his night vision and alert the intruders to someone in the area. Ryder had to trust Rose to watch his six. Tonight, the best Ryder could do was to eliminate the frontal threat before going around to cover Rose. The guy staking out the front of the house had gone dead still next to a low-lying bush, likely waiting for orders to breach the front entrance. These were not gang bangers or local hoods. Silent as the night, Ryder approached with knife in hand. The knife was the backup. He’d rather put the other man in headlock and knock him out before he could alert anyone. They needed to interrogate these
men as they had the last group, but something in Ryder’s gut said these two wouldn’t break. Ryder stalked forward, his heartbeat slow, his hands sure and steady, and his eye on the prize. Seconds before Ryder made contact, the man kicked back. “Oomph.” Air whooshed from his lungs as a large boot collided with his gut, sending him sprawling into the dirt. The knife went flying into the yard. Only training had him on his feet before he had time to catch his breath. The intruder sprang to the offensive, following Ryder and attempting a second kick, but Ryder was ready this time. He countered the move
and the two men sparred in front of the ranch house. Hand-to-hand combat was dirty. There were no rules of engagement, no higher ethics involved in beating the crap out of another human being. You fought hard or you died. Those were the rules. The intruder was a big man, matching Ryder in size and speed. They sparred for several minutes, with neither gaining ground. Only their breath and the smack of flesh beating flesh interrupted the silence. His opponent grunted when Ryder landed a solid right hook, but he didn’t fight the punch. Instead, the other man rolled with the momentum to land back on his feet within seconds. The moves felt familiar, and an uneasy sizzle
of warning chilled Ryder’s insides. He shut everything down except the fight, trying to find a weakness in his opponent’s moves. The soldier liked to kick, his size twelves hitting Ryder in the gut more than once. Ryder took the punishing hits, counting the moves until he found a pattern. When he did, he stepped back as the man kicked, grabbing his leg and twisting. Satisfaction oozed through Ryder as the other man hopped on one foot. Ryder flipped him, and using the leg as a fulcrum, slammed the man’s upper body against the ground. The intruder used the momentum to keep rolling, back on his feet before Ryder could inflict any serious damage, but he
favored that leg in a barely perceptible limp. Ryder went after the leg with a vengeance, putting the man in black on the defensive. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Heard Rose shout, the words lost in the fog, but enough to warn him the second man was coming. The two men double-teamed Ryder. He tucked his head and barreled into his first opponent just as the second man launched at Ryder. All three rolled to the ground. Ryder smacked an elbow into somebody’s face. Felt the bone crack. Quick, before someone could trap him on the ground, Ryder rolled to his feet. Rose ran up, a look of rage in his eyes. A light flicked on the front porch.
“Fall back,” the second man called. They hightailed it down the driveway. Ryder held Rose by the arm to keep him from giving chase. He wouldn’t leave Lauren unprotected. There could be more men, another attack planned, and he wouldn’t fail his wife again. He’d done that often enough already. Debi stepped onto the porch with a shotgun. A strong move, except the light put her in the crosshairs of anyone with a half-decent shot. They raced across the yard. Rose tackled Debi back into the house. Ryder killed the light and shut and bolted the door. In the light, Rose’s face was mottled. Bruises formed around one eye and scrapes marked his cheek. He busted up laughing.
Ryder sat down, hard, on the entry floor trying to catch his breath. When he did, a low chuckle let loose. The deeper and longer Rose laughed, the more Ryder let the laughter wash away the tension. “Did you see those f*ckers run?” Rose asked. “Lazy bastards.” Ryder sucked in another breath. Already the muscles in his stomach throbbed. He would have a boot-sized bruise on his gut for sure. “They didn’t expect a fight.” “What the hell?” Debi stepped between them, the shotgun still in her hands. “Were you two fighting in my front yard?” “Not each other.” Ryder explained about the intruders. “No doubt they
expected easy pickings.” “By easy, you mean me?” Debi gripped the rifle, her knuckles turning white. “Because I’m not easy.” “Never said you were, but those two came expecting an easy in-and-out. That means they’ve cased your house before. They knew you and Lauren were here alone. Probably knew the layout of the house and were waiting for the lights to go out.” Debi leaned against the closet door. Her hands shook on the weapon. “Maybe I should have had something to drink earlier. That’s a lot to take in.” “You did good, sweetheart.” Rose removed the shotgun from her hands. He checked, and it had a round in the
chamber. “Good girl.” “I grew up on the ranch.” The irritated tone hid the tremor in her voice, but couldn’t hide her shaking hands. “Who are you?” Rose moved the weapon to his left and reached out with his free hand. “Rose.” “Really?” Debi shook his hand with a look of doubt on her face. “Honey, there ain’t nothing soft and sweet about you.” “Sorry to break up the party, but where’s Lauren?” “Sleeping, and I wouldn’t—” “I need to make sure she’s secure.” Ryder paused on his way down the hall. “Rose, do a perimeter check and meet
me back here in two.” Rose gave a mock solute before slipping out the door. The floorboards squeaked underfoot as Ryder headed down the hall. He’d had dinner a few times at Debi’s old farmhouse. The building had more creaky floors than a haunted house, but it was still solid. The dark of the hall welcomed him to the guest room. The door was ajar, and Ryder moved in, staying to the shadows at the edge of the room. Lauren was on top of the blankets, still in yesterday’s clothes, her dark hair like a blot on the pale pillowcase. In sleep, the lines of tension around her mouth and eyes faded, as if they only existed when he was around. Her lips
opened as breath moved in and out, her chest lifting. The sight of her screwed with his focus. He didn’t have the resources he needed to protect her; he didn’t have an entire team at his command. Ryder cleared the bathroom, checked the window locks, and even checked under the bed because he was a paranoid bastard. He did a thorough search of the interior, knowing Rose did the same outside. They reconvened in the living room. Rose flipped a blade in the air, caught it by the handle on the downside. “Lose something?” Ryder grabbed the knife and sheathed it under his pant leg. “At least my face doesn’t look like ground beef.”
It hurt to admit they’d gotten their asses handed to them. “We need equipment. Men.” They needed the damn Army, and good luck getting it. Debi slipped into the kitchen and measured coffee into an automatic brewer. “Haven’t had this much excitement around here since the barn burned down last year.” She pressed the brew button. “I won’t sleep after that. Want to tell me what happened?” “Two men slipped down the drive on foot, one headed for the front, the other the back. Rose, what happened to the guy in back?” “f*cker got the best of me.” His face went red. “Sorry, ma’am.” Debi’s bawdy laugh warmed the
yellow kitchen. “Honey, I’ve heard the word. I’m no shrinking violet. Or should I say no shrinking rose.” The red climbed Rose’s throat. He took a seat at the kitchen island, but the bar-height chair was chosen for style not comfort or durability. The metal legs groaned as Rose took a load off his feet. While they waited for the coffee to brew, Ryder and Rose pieced together the assault, filling in details. “Ry, that bastard was well trained. No night vision goggles, yet he found me in the pitch black of the screened porch out back. And as old as that damn screen door was, I should have heard the f*cker open it. Didn’t hear a damn thing before he grabbed me from behind.” He glanced
sideways at Debi who stared at the dripping coffee pot. “It sucks to admit, but if he’d have had a knife, he’d have slit my throat before I could blink.” “They were trained. Hand signals, stealth, they planned a coordinated attack. Had comms, which we damn sure better get if we’re going to beat them.” Ryder knocked his knuckles against the kitchen counter in time to his thoughts. “I had the drop on the man out front. He went as still as tree stump and I had him from behind. Easy target. Outside of our team, I don’t know a soul who could have heard the approach.” “You think this was Smythe?” Chills raced across Ryder’s overheated skin. “Until we know
different, we assume everything connects to Smythe and his little housing scam. He sent some of the meth crew to handle Lauren when he thought she was alone. Idiots with a bad plan and poor execution. This time, he paid better money for better assholes.” “A whole helluva lot better assholes. They would have gotten in this house in absolute stealth if we hadn’t been out front.” Debi’s hands shook as she poured three cups of coffee. “I had my gun.” Rose shook his head, and the look on his face said a lecture was inbound. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have a clue they were here until I came roaring around the front. After stopping the guy in back
from breaking and entering.” Debi reached to hand Ryder a coffee and dropped it, shattering the cup. Hot brew went flying. Her bare feet jumped back. “Crap, that’s hot.” “Hold on.” Rose escorted her to an open barstool at the island like she was the queen of England. “We should be serving you.” Ryder shook his head. The big man had lost his mind. Before he could say as much, Rose asked where the broom was, and started sweeping up the mess, then wiped it down with sanitary wipes. “Who are you and what have you done with my teammate?” Rose flipped him off behind the broom so Debi couldn’t see.
All-righty then. Ryder turned his attention to Debi. “What happened to Lauren? She’s sleeping like the dead.” A shaky hand shoved hair off Debi’s face. “A little too much tequila.” “You know she can’t handle tequila. You’re evil.” Debi’s mouth tipped into a smile. “An evil genius. She needed to get wasted. She needed to turn off that mighty brain of hers and—” Debi tightened her lips closed. “You can finish that sentence anytime.” Debi shook her head. “And get some sleep. She didn’t want you to see her like this.” Lauren was beautiful, any day of
the week, in any condition. Rose brought Debi a cup of coffee. “I added a shot of Irish crème.” “You’re handy to have around, Rosie. First you scare off intruders and now you’re ready with a shot of liquor to soothe the weak woman’s nerves.” “Didn’t say you were weak, but this has to be outside the norm for you?” “Normal is relative.” Debi took a sip, then another. “That’s good. Sorry. I’m being a bitch, and big enough to admit it. Hit a sore spot. The last time a man offered to help me, he shoved a knife in my back.” “That explains the gun.” “He brings a knife and you bring a gun. Isn’t that the way the game is
played?’ Debi took another sip and smiled, transforming her pinched features. “Being tackled by a six-and-ahalf foot bear is definitely outside the norm.” Rose shuffled his big feet as if he didn’t know if he should sit or stand. “Seemed the thing to do.” Debi winked. “Who said I didn’t like it?” Pheromones were swimming over their heads like gnats. Ryder brushed it off as they settled back to work. He helped himself to a cup of black coffee before leaning against the counter. “Smythe has upped his game. We have to assume he’ll come back harder. The one thing I’m certain of is that he won’t back
off. He’s making good money and until now, he’s gotten away with it. He has to feel untouchable.” “Agreed, but—” Rose took a sip of his coffee. “That man got the drop on me. He wasn’t some lowlife you can hire for gram of meth. We do this, we need proper equipment.” “Add it to the list.” Ryder took a sip of the strongest coffee he’d ever tasted. He swallowed, burning his tonsils on the way down. “sh*t, that’s strong.” “My hands were shaking. I may have added too much.” “You think?” “The Irish crème helps.” Debi took another long swallow. “Thanks for that,”
she said to Rose. “Do you really think this is the Smythe guy?” “Unless you were expecting late night company?” Debi peered deep into her coffee. “I’m just saying, this is a load of bullsh*t over missing mortgage payments.” “It’s more than that.” Ryder and Rose shared a look. How much could or should they tell her? “They know where she lives, Ry. She deserves to know.” Drinking bad coffee and keeping an eye on the windows and doors, Ryder filled Debi in on all they knew about Smythe’s operation. He left out anything related to Team Fear. “I told Lauren the prick got off too
easy.” Debi got up and rinsed her coffee cup. “Even the shot of Irish crème won’t help me sleep tonight.” She glanced at the clock. “Or this morning. Anything else you want to tell me?” Ryder scratched his temple, considering the problem. It was bad enough to have Lauren involved. They didn’t need another civilian at risk. “Watch your back. Maybe take a few days off work.” “You think they’d hurt me?” “I think they would have done something very unpleasant to you and Lauren if they’d gotten in this house, and they’d go through you to get to her, so yes, I think they’d hurt you.” “You have somewhere to go for a
few days until this blows over?” Rose asked. Debi leaned back against the sink. “This is my home. I’m not leaving.” “That attitude led to the Alamo.” Rose stepped closer to the petite woman. “And here I thought you were the sweet one,” Debi said. “This ranch is all I have left. You don’t want to hang around, Rosie, there’s the door.” The words mirrored what Rose had told Ryder outside in the truck. The smirk on Ryder’s face would earn him a face punch if Rose saw it, so Ryder rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep it shut. Rose’s big shoulder’s hunched, and
he took a step back. “I’ll take first watch.” “You do that.” Ryder bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Rosie.” “I’m not going to live that down, am I?” Rose paused for an answer with a hand on the front doorknob. “Not as long as I’m drawing breath, but my expiration date is coming due.” “We can only hope.” As long as he had time left, he was spending it right. Lauren’s sweet body called him from the other room. “I’ll catch a few hours.” “Hold up.” Rose’s beefy hand grabbed Ryder’s arm before he could retreat. “I’m calling it, Ry. We need
backup.” The night had blown any plans of keeping the team out of it. The two men they faced were well trained and well equipped, not some gangb*ngers playing at war. Ryder wanted to give the team a little peace before hell rained down, but he didn’t have the luxury. He felt the failure to the pit of his black soul. “f*ck.” He dug his hands through his hair in frustration. The last thing he wanted was pull the team into his mess, but Smythe had raised the stakes. “Make some calls. See if we have anyone on this side of the Mississippi willing to...” Debi frowned. “Willing to what?” Willing to put their asses on the line for an old army buddy. He glanced at
Rose. “At the very least, see if Craft can hook us up with better communication devices, maybe help set up electronic surveillance.” Rose rubbed his hands together. “Rock and roll, baby. We’re getting the band back together.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN “Dumbass,” Ryder muttered, but as he walked down the hall, a smile eased the burden he’d carried like a sixtypound pack on his shoulders. For six months, he had been putting out fires and watching their lives fall apart. Every single teammate was angry and paranoid and withdrawn. It was time to share the burden. They should all think twice about getting involved. The number one priority was to stay off the radar, because Captain Johnson—or his superiors—would eliminate the threat if they continued to kill themselves in ways guaranteed to draw media attention.
They were walking a very thin line, but Rose was right. They worked better as a team, and once they figured out the deal with Smythe, they could concentrate their efforts on the bigger problem. The contracts they’d signed when they joined Team Fear had so many pages of small print, there was probably an addendum that covered the eventuality that they became a risk to themselves and others. So getting the band back together had landmines as large as the ones that had sent them out of the Army in the first place, but staying apart hadn’t worked out well for any of them. It was harder to put out the fires alone. A problem for another day. Ryder closed the door behind him. The
window on the south side was a security concern. The easy entrance on the backside of the house included no visibility from the highway. If Ryder wanted in the house, the bedroom window was the stealthiest route, so he had to figure the baddies from earlier would think the same, but he’d put his life in Rose’s hands more than once, and he had to trust him now. He checked the lock, pulled the blinds closed and called it good. Live by the team meant you trusted your teammates with your life. He stripped off his clothes and helped Lauren out of hers. She mumbled and turned into him as he slid next to her, his feet dangling off the end of the small bed. He pulled the blanket to cover her
bare shoulders. Damn, but he wanted her. Always would, but bringing the team to help could put her in the bulls eye of something far deadlier than Smythe’s games. They were damned either way, but he’d brought both problems to her door. He’d fix both or die trying. Lauren turned again and settled her bare ass against Ryder’s crotch. His IQ dropped. He took a deep breath and wrapped an arm over her midriff. For what was left of the night, they had Rose keeping watch and Smythe’s men had been routed. He’d celebrate with sleep and deal with the rest after sunrise.
The sun burned through the pretty pink curtains, casting judgment with its harsh morning rays. Lauren squinted against a stabbing headache, not ready to face the day alone. There was a reason tequila was not her friend. The clatter of dishes in the other room, remnants of last night’s debauchery, reminded her of the promise she’d made to herself. She controlled her destiny. Period. Lauren cupped a hand over her eyes to block the sun. She’d dreamed of Ryder, could have sworn she slept in his
arms, surrounded by his warm body and smoky scent. The sensory memory lingered on the pink and blue bedding, leather and smoke and mystery. Lauren punched the empty pillow beside her before sitting up to face reality. She slipped from the bed and plodded into the guest bath, moving at the speed of a geriatric patient. Peeling wallpaper covered the room, faded like bones in the desert sun. Lauren avoided the mirror and climbed into the white tiled tub. The shower beat over her wrecked body like a miracle, washing away grime and tequila and a hangover from hell. Not to mention body aches from the accident. Lauren groaned into the spray. Where was Rose with his
Vitamin M when she really needed him? Oh yeah, she’d banned Ryder and Rose until noon. Warm water slid over her skin, and she turned to face the flow, hungry for the healing water. Hands grabbed her from behind and she screamed, turned, and would have slipped in conditioner if Ryder hadn’t clasped his hands at her waist and held her upright. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He dropped a kiss to her lips, but she was in too much shock to respond. “Are you okay?” She nodded, staring up at him like an infatuated child. Her heart still hammered from his sudden appearance. Proclamations were one thing, but she hadn’t expected to face him so soon. Her
mouth opened before her brain engaged. “You’ll always protect me. Right?” “Right.” He brushed wet hair off her cheek. “We’ll figure this out quicker now that Craft showed up.” The deal with Smythe wasn’t really on her mind. Last night’s inebriated plan was to stay endangered. Ryder wouldn’t leave if he had to protect her, but tequila aside, the plan had serious flaws. He helped rinse the remaining conditioner from her hair, his hands gentle and soothing, massaging away the pain, but his touch didn’t reach the hollow ache in her chest where souldeep longing lived. She wanted Ryder, wanted a life with him, but that meant trusting him to stay. To get what she
wanted, she’d have to fight, but first she needed a sleeve of saltine crackers and a gallon of water. Speaking of which. “What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t want to see you before noon.” So she’d have time to deal with the aftereffects of the night before. Plus, she’d been so angry. “Debi let us in.” “Really?” He smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “After Rose and I fought off the bad guys.” The spray hit her upturned face. “You’re making that up.” “Nope. While you were passed out like a drunk in an alley, two men approached on foot.”
The whole drunk thing wasn’t something she was proud of in the light of day. Embarrassed heat warmed her cheeks. “If we could not talk about last night…” “What are you willing to do to table that discussion?” She choked out a laugh. Trust him to go straight for the kill. A grin aggravated her sore lip, but not enough to squelch the humor. “I think you know exactly how far I’ll go.” “Good to know.” Ryder grabbed the bar of soap. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he lathered the soap in his hands. The muscles in his arms flexed with each slow movement. The lather showed white against the tan on his arms, the
contrast sexy. Lauren licked her lips, her eyes fixated on Ryder’s strong hands that led to his muscular arms, strong shoulders, and hard cut body. He scrubbed a hand over his midsection where a thick band of discoloration formed mere inches from the stitches in his gut. Lauren gasped and reached to touch the darkening skin with shaky fingers. Tears burned her eyes. Knowing he was a soldier was one thing, but seeing him battered was a reality that hurt. “Did this happen last night?” “I’ll live.” He lathered more soap and brushed it over her chest. The silky slide of his soapy hands had her leaning closer. She bit back a moan, her teeth
sinking into her lower lip. “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he said, his tone husky. As distractions went, his touch was effective. She closed her eyes as he soaped the sensitive skin of her breasts, circling and teasing until he tweaked her nipples. Holy hell, the nerves spiked straight to her crotch, but considering all they’d been through in the last few days, maybe now wasn’t the time. She ran a finger over his bruise and around the puckered stitches. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He chuckled, the sound reverberating in the small shower. “Making love to you could never hurt.” “Oh.” The seductive words
silenced her. He always knew exactly what to say. It might not be fairytale love, and it certainly wasn’t easy, but— “I’m not letting you go.” She grabbed his forearms as if the move would tie them together. Her body fell in line and her thighs softened. Her nipples hardened. “Then why did you go to a divorce attorney?” Lauren froze in the shower spray. She didn’t want a divorce. She’d only gone to the lawyer in desperation, and now Ryder thought— “Turn around.” His voice dropped into a seductive tone. “I’ll wash your back.” The revelation shattered her nerves. He knew she’d been to a divorce
attorney, but what did he think about it? Did he think that put them on the same page? “We need to finish this conversation.” She didn’t want him thinking that she was seeking an escape. “After the shower.” Ryder turned her away from him, so she didn’t have his expression to judge his mood. He soaped her back before his slick caresses circled her butt cheeks. He stepped into her and rubbed his chest across her back, lathering them both. Heating them both. He pulled her hair aside and nipped and kissed the back of her neck, sending feel-good vibes through her body. It was the best kind of high. “Talk,” she insisted. “Later.” He ground his hips,
pressing his erection on her soapy skin, her heart tripped into triple time. Her internal walls clenched with need. She gyrated her hips, gliding her backside over his lower body. He cupped her breasts, teasing while her lower body’s frantic moves spoke of her desire. Ryder dropped the bar of soap and it slid down her body, crashing to the floor of the tub. “I should get that.” “Don’t.” He felt too good next to her skin and she didn’t want to lose the heat. Arms encircling her, he kissed his way down her spine, his hands trailing her front leaving suds in his wake. His teeth nipped her ass and his hand cupped her core.
Lauren moaned. She’d come right here and right now, if he’d just move his hand. “Ah.” She was beyond words. Turned on, her sensitive skin begging for his touch. Then his big hands moved to her inner thighs. They widened to make room—yes, please—but he continued his trail of torture down her body, spreading seeds of desire. She’d never been this clean or felt this needy. His mouth trailed heat from his kisses while his hands shattered her control. Control? Hell, she had no control when he touched her. Then he stopped. Released her. Lauren opened her eyes, disoriented. Seconds later, he grabbed her hips and yanked her down to his lap.
She half screamed when her feet spilled from under her. He flipped her so she straddled him, her knees knocking the sides of the tub. She knew exactly what he had in mind. “There’s not enough room in this guest bath.” “Wanna bet?” He kissed her neck while his hands pressed her lower back, levering her closer to his erection and shooting sparks through her body. She arched her pelvis forward, grinding against him. The hot shower beat against her back, keeping her warm and wet and unbelievably ready. “Remember that hotel in Austin?” Their honeymoon, such as it was, a few days before his last deployment. He found the soap and used it to
slick up her thighs and smooth the slow grind. “We yanked the curtain rod from the wall.” He laughed. “Baby, you’re far more flexible than I knew.” “It was mortifying.” The maid had called the manager while they’d been out to lunch. “Worth every cent.” “If we ruin Debi’s shower, I’ll have to find a new best friend.” Ryder’s hands slipped down to cup her ass. “Might be worth the cost.” Lauren teased his erection with her cleft, hitting just the right spot— He lifted her off his lap, the easy strength making her wet and ready. The new position put her chest in front of him, and he took advantage by sucking
one nipple in his mouth. Her internal muscles tightened, flexed around her empty core. “Ry?” He switched to the other nipple, sucking until it beaded hard in his warm mouth. “Mm?” “I need you.” “Anytime, baby.” He switched back to the first nipple. “How about now?” She wrapped a hand around his erection. He leaned his head against the shower wall and slowly lowered her. She guided him inside. So. Damn. Slow. The way he filled her set off miniexplosions. Her breath went rough, panting out until she had taken him fully and was seated on his lap.
“You’re on top, baby. You set the pace.” She started slow until they were both wet, as slick as the soap, then she moved to a slow grind, rubbing her cl*t against his pelvis. “That’s it.” He grabbed her hips and strengthened her moves, putting more force into her groove so each time she rubbed his pelvis, another round of explosions, small, electrical volts shot through her core. She rested her hands on his shoulders to hang on as her body took over, moving faster, her knees hitting the sides of the tub, the smack of flesh on flesh. Dear God, her head fell back as the org*sm threatened. Ryder grabbed her waist and
slammed her down as he thrust; hitting so deep it triggered the org*sm. Wave after wave shot through her entire body. She held her breath to keep from screaming as he stroked through his org*sm, extending their pleasure, until she flopped, boneless, against his chest, still straddling him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, her breath panting against his skin. “You killed me.” “Not even close.” He ran a hand up her spine and back to land on her backside. “You have a very fine ass, Mrs. Ryder.” “Same goes, Mr. Ryder.” His shoulders tensed beneath her lips, so Lauren leaned back. A muscle
ticked at his temple. “What’s wrong?” When he didn’t answer, she thought through her last words trying to decipher the tension. Her words, Mr. Ryder, a reminder that he was a civilian now. “I’m sorry, Ry.” Lauren grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged so he’d meet her gaze. “You’re more than the Army, and you’ll always be Ryder.” A knock pounded on the door. Lauren jumped, and he slid free. “Hey, there are other people in the house wanting hot water.” Debi yelled through the door. “And we’re not getting lucky, so we need it more.” A warm flush climbed her neck and face to contrast to the cold shower water hitting her back. Was Debi guessing or
had she actually heard them? There was only so much she was willing to share with her best friend. Lauren straightened to climb to her feet, but Ryder held her still. “Quit it,” she whispered. Embarrassment coated her words. “This is as bad as Austin.” “Not quite.” His chest shook with laughter. “The shower rod is still standing.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN “The dirty son of a dog.” Lauren yanked on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, dressing for battle, the most important of her life, and she was seriously hung over. She couldn’t believe Ryder left when he promised to finish the conversation after the shower. After the sex. Man, did he know how to distract her, but she couldn’t go the rest of the day, even another hour, with him believing she wanted a divorce. The scent of coffee led her to the farm kitchen. All three soldiers quit talking when she walked in. “I hate that,” she muttered. The smell of coffee and bacon
reminded her of the lazy Sunday mornings she’d once planned to have with Ryder. This morning, Debi was cooking. She lifted the coffee pot from the warmer. “Want a cup?” “I really don’t.” She turned to face the men at the breakfast table. Laptops were open along with notebooks, pens, and half-filled coffee cups. The soldiers stared like she was a three-headed goat. “Ryder, can I have a word with you?” “We’re in the middle of something.” “And before that, we were in the middle of a conversation.” The threeheaded goat thing might actually happen as her brain rattled and shook, ready to explode. She turned her attention to
Rose, trying to think of a way to get him out of the room. “I could really use some Vitamin M.” She turned her gaze to the new man. “It’s good to see you again, Sergeant Craft. Can you give me and my husband a minute?” Behind her, Debi turned off the stove, the knob turning with a sharp click, and her heeled boots clomped on the wood floor and faded as she went to the back of the house. Rose and Craft remained seated, glancing at Ryder for direction. She lifted her brow at her husband. “You really want to do this in front of your men?” Ryder pushed back the chair with a harsh scrape and rose to his feet. He wore dust-colored cargo pants and a
matching t-shirt, and he looked just as strong, as solid, as he had in uniform. “Do you?” Not particularly, but they needed to talk about the attorney. About the aborted divorce. She turned her gaze from the men at the table, knowing they’d wait for orders. “We can do this here.” She’d rather get Ryder alone and she knew one sure way to get the soldiers the hell away from the very private conversation she needed to have with her husband. “I don’t appreciate the way you ran off after the shower. You don’t get to ‘hit it and quit it’ with your wife.” Rose paused with a coffee cup midway to his lips. Craft stared at his laptop. Ryder glared at her, unblinking.
Even the bacon stopped sizzling behind her. Lauren’s legs shook with the need to back away, but pride kept her grounded. She lifted her chin, and a warning glint flashed in Ryder’s deep green eyes. The predator in him snapped. Sleek and graceful, Ryder leapt across the room and scooped her up. Microseconds later, he flipped her over his shoulder. A squeal lodged in her throat as he carried her upside down out the front door, down the steps, and across the drive, his long legs eating up real estate faster than a financial speculator. They arrived at the barn door before blood had time to rush to her head. “Ryder.” She smacked his backside, the very fine backside she’d
admired not that many minutes ago. “This is ridiculous. Put me down.” He flipped her upright so fast she’d have lost her lunch if she had anything left in her stomach. Her head did a quick spin. “Oomph.” He planted her solidly on her feet. “You want to challenge me?” He kept his hands clamped on her shoulders. She’d bite her tongue off before admitting the firm grip kept her upright. “Baby, I’ve been way too easy on you if you think—” He cut himself off, the rapid rise of his solid chest the only sign of agitation. His aborted sentence stirred up every insecurity, every fear inside. Why did he hold back? If he knew about the
attorney, he might believe she still wanted a divorce, and it would make it that much easier for him to leave. “You think you’ve been easy on me by disappearing?” Anger was stamped on his hard face, but he didn’t respond. How would she convince him to stay if he closed off this way? Lauren stepped away from him. “I don’t want you to leave.” As she forced out the words, everything in his demeanor shifted, going military strong; spine stiff, jaw hard, eyes front. He morphed into a soldier in front of her eyes, and the sun beat down like a spotlight on his hard features. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“By leaving?” “If that’s what it takes.” The stoic expression matched his monotone voice. His eyes shuttered, as closed off as a burial tomb. He was a warrior whether he wore a uniform or not, and a primitive part of her wanted the warrior. The fighter, not the cold man in front of her. Lauren fisted her hands. “No.” Her voice wavered with the strain. The hangover made her stomach twist, but she was emotionally sick as well. “I’m not letting you go this time.” “What about the divorce lawyer?” Hurt and rejection hid behind the question, and she couldn’t let him go another minute believing she didn’t want
him. “A knee-jerk reaction. Pain. Pride.” She swallowed. “I missed you.” The narrowing of his eyes was the only reaction. “I threw up after I left his office. I never went back.” “Maybe you should.” He dug his hands through his hair as if he could twist his head off. “I’m screwed up. You shouldn’t want me. I’ve endangered you more than you know.” Those words he’d said before, and she needed to know the story behind them, but she needed to know something else first. “Do you want me anymore?” She wanted to ask if he loved her, but chickened out.
“After the last few days, you have to ask?” He stood steps away, but miles apart. Sweat slicked her hands. “There’s a difference between sex and commitment. I’m not sure what you want.” “What I want?” The predator stalking her sent her back a step. Menace oozed off him and a flush climbed his cheeks. She backed away, but Ryder met her step for step until he had her backed against the barn. “What I want is no divorce. No other man. No trouble hounding our door.” “That’s not the same as wanting me.” Loving me. “Would you like a demonstration?”
He pinned her hands over her head against the barn, the rough wood scratching her wrists. “You are the center of everything, but I am afraid— Jesus Christ, I’m terrified—that I will hurt you, and that kind of fear shouldn’t be possible anymore.” “Why?” The tension riding him infected her, and she shivered against him. “Damnit, Ryder, what did they do to you?” His mouth fused to hers, cutting her off. The kiss was meant to punish, to push them both over the edge into desire, but he’d been using sex to avoid this long overdue conversation, and Lauren wouldn’t let him anymore. The heat turned to anger inside her. Anger at the
Army, at Madigan, at the situation. Anger at Ryder. She fought against her restrained hands. “Let me go.” He pressed her wrists against the barn. “I can’t.” The conflict inside him turned to anguish in his eyes, giving him an almost feral look. “You already did.” The words choked from her throat. The truth spilled out, bypassing any filter. “You deserted me. You chose your team over me. You didn’t love me enough or want me enough or trust me enough. You weren’t strong enough to keep us together.” “Stop.” He dropped his head near her neck, his forehead resting against the weathered wood, his hands grasping her wrists like a lifeline. He avoided her
gaze, as if seeing into his eyes would release the hidden lock on his cryptic emotions. She struggled against him, trying to break free, but his grip was stronger than any handcuff. “What if I lose it?” Tears coated his words, freezing her in place. “What if I do to you what Mad Dog did to his family?” The truth echoed in his words. The way he’d left after Madigan’s suicide. The number of times he said he couldn’t stay. To protect her, he’d always said. He honestly believed he could hurt her. She whispered soothing words, nonsense words that could never contain the pain she felt at his admission. For months, he had harbored this fear. Alone. And no matter what he said or believed,
it was fear that kept him away. Her chest shook with the tears she held inside. This time, she needed to be the strong one. “Ryder, you could never hurt me.” The warmth of his breath kissed her collarbone. “And the days leading up to Mad Dog’s death, Maggie would have sworn the same thing. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I never would have had the strength to leave.” Lauren wanted to pull his head back so she could see his eyes, but he still had her manacled to the side of the barn. She wiggled her fingers. “Let my hands go.” He dropped her hands like they burned his flesh, but she grabbed him before he could drift away. She twined her fingers around his neck and
squeezed. “Look at me. Please.” He straightened away from the bare wood, and when he met her gaze, his eyes were red-rimmed but dry. She couldn’t imagine what had driven this strong man to such despair, but she was going to find out. “Leaving me isn’t strength. It’s fear.” Bleakness covered him, turning his lips to a frown and his eyes empty. “I don’t fear anything. Ever.” He’s said it before, but— “I’m sure it feels that way after living with the effects for so long.” Was it PTSD? Did he deal with the stress by hiding his fears? Her heart thumped short angry beats against her chest. “Everyone feels fear, even a big bad warrior like you.
Historically, it goes back to Homer in The Iliad.” It was easier to discuss in terms of history than to consider for one moment that her rock-solid husband was struggling. “In World War I they called it shell shock and World War II it was—” “It’s not PTSD. For a while, I thought maybe. I even hoped, because it’s better than...” “What?” He was back to halfcompleted sentences. She leaned against the barn to keep from putting her arms around him and offering comfort, because he’d hide there as he had so many times before. This conversation was a long time coming. “Ryder, you can tell me anything. Nothing you say can make me think less of you.”
He grabbed her hand and led her to the front porch where they sat on the steps. He didn’t look at her, but leaned over to stare at his boots. “I need your promise that you’ll hear me out.” “That sounds ominous.” He squeezed her fingers. “Promise.” “Okay. I promise.” “I came back to let you go. To give you the freedom you deserved.” She averted her gaze to the pale winter sky and blinked back tears. A few dropped, and he brushed them away. She leaned into his touch. “Then that cowboy put his hands on you, and the line between doing the right thing and claiming you got blurry. Anger
is a problem for me, just like it was for Madigan. I know it’s right to let you go, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” Anguish crossed his features and then disappeared into the wall of his granite jaw. “So I’ll leave it up to you, and maybe you’ll be smart enough for both of us.” “You think I’m going to leave you?” That was just crazy talk. She’d been waiting and watching for him to go. It never occurred to her that he thought the same of her. “Why would I leave?” Ryder rubbed his thumb over hers, staring down at their joined hands. The rumble of voices filtered through the silence. Breakfast preparations continued. Lauren waited, holding hands
with her husband in the winter sun. Finally, he took a deep breath that lifted his shoulders as if in defeat. His voice, when he spoke, was low and rough. “When I moved here from Fort Carson, I left my Special Forces Team.” “I know that.” She’d met him shortly after he moved to El Paso. “I joined a new one.” Lauren shook her head. “Fort Bliss isn’t home to Special Forces. You said —” “It was classified. Still is. After a particularly bloody mission that cost several good men their lives—men I worked with my entire time on the teams —afterwards, after the funerals, I was approached by a man who offered me
the chance to make a difference in the war. I was angry. I wanted retribution. I wanted this sh*t to end. He offered me a leadership position on a special team. One of six twelve-man teams.” Ryder continued to stare at their joined hands. She squeezed to encourage him to continue. “Not wanting to face another mission with only half my team, I said yes. Some of it was ego. An elite team was the best opportunity of my career, but there was a catch. Several actually. First, we were off books.” “What does that mean?” Lauren leaned forward to try to meet his gaze, but he shifted away. “We were still in the Army, but we
operated outside the military hierarchy. No one knew we existed. We received orders from outside the normal chain of command. Our captain never told us who.” Lauren’s stomach growled. She put her free hand over it to cover the sudden fear twisting through the empty spaces. “CIA?” This was outside her area of expertise. “Captain Johnson called them the company or the organization. We never met anyone other than the captain who hired us. Once we signed, we received orders here to Fort Bliss, under Johnson’s command. We had a separate barracks, separate chow hall, separate everything. We continued to receive our
military pay, we continued our training, but added a new component.” “That’s the second catch,” she guessed. The acid in her stomach churned. Whatever had her husband so serious wasn’t going to be good. “We were a part of a trial on a new medication that inhibits the physiological reaction to fear. The training schedule was incredible. The medical protocol was exact. We could no longer drink alcohol. We could no longer take so much as an aspirin without medical personnel present.” That explained a few things. None of the men ever drank beer when they came into the bar. There had been more of them then, and some would cut it up
and hit the dance floor with the local girls, but they’d stuck to a strict training schedule. Maybe it wasn’t simply a training schedule. “You truly don’t feel fear?” “No.” He glanced up, finally meeting her gaze. Hollow, haunted eyes greeted her. “We were in quarantine the first ninety days while they adjusted dosage and tested our responses. The first few months, we experienced lost time. Frequently. We’d wake up bloody or bruised and not know what happened.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear the memories. “I hadn’t met you yet. I thought—we all thought—it was the right thing. This was the next big
evolution in war fighting.” “A fearless soldier.” The company —whoever the hell that was—was playing God with these men. This kind of experimentation had historical precedence, but Lauren was accustomed to studying this kind of thing, not living it. “It worked?” “It worked. Our first successful mission was a week before I met you. We went over to the desert on a classified mission. Kicked ass and came home. Since the worst of the side effects had stopped, they gave us more freedom.” “That’s the night you guys came to the bar?” He nodded. “The moment I saw
you, I knew you were to good for me. Smart, funny, gorgeous—” “Hardly.” Her heart rate picked up, her fear at what had been done to her husband turning her hands slick with sweat, but he wouldn’t let go. “I knew better than to chase you, but the medical co*cktail made me fearless. Pursuing you became my next big mission. No fear meant I didn’t give up when I should have had the sense to leave you alone.” “I was a mission?” Hurt colored her tone. “You’re my foundation. I don’t know how everyone else handled it, but you kept me grounded rather than believing I was some super soldier
without limits. A few people believed the hype. Went...” The pounding in her chest threatened to break her ribs. The hand not holding Ryder shook, so she moved it to clasp over the back of his hand, fully encasing him in her grip. “Finish it.” “One of the teams—Team Echo— snapped. Every last man.” Ryder’s throat convulsed as he swallowed. “They shut down the program. Eliminated Team Echo. Kept the rest of us in a hospital overseas for two months while we detoxed. Once they were sure we weren’t ready to go off the rails, after they debriefed us, they flew us home on a C-17. The barracks were cleaned out.
We got our walking papers.” “The last deployment.” She’d been so happy he’d come home early. Tears stung, but refused to fall. Ryder’s eyes had been so desolate. She cleared her throat. “The medicine?” “They stopped it immediately. Didn’t let us come back stateside until the blood work showed it was fully out of our system.” “Withdrawals?” He snorted an unhappy laugh. “Felt like someone stabbing my brain with an ice pick. For days. Madigan nearly scratched his eyes out. Death would have been preferable. Most of us had to be strapped down to keep from killing ourselves.”
Lauren gasped. “Maybe they should have let us.” “That is—” She stumbled on words for her outrage. “Complete bullsh*t. Ryder, they had no right to experiment on you.” “We all signed the contract. All volunteered.” “That doesn’t make it right.” She thought of all the experiments done in the name of war. “Ryder, we have to—” “Keep our mouths shut and our heads down. If they think for an instant we’re a threat, that our behavior will divulge what they’ve done, they will eliminate us. They won’t let us expose a classified program. I shouldn’t even tell you except...”
Lauren stood, no longer able to sit still. She tripped on the steps, but kept on, pacing to the driveway and back. “We are way past you stopping. No more half-sentences. No more hiding. I want it all. The truth and nothing but.” “You need to know I’m a risk. What happened with Madigan could happen with me. We don’t know the long-term side effects. Paranoia is pretty high on the list. We don’t know that the company won’t decide to eliminate me. I’m okay with that.” He shrugged. “But I can’t live believing you’ll be collateral damage, an acceptable loss to the people who did this.” What did he think, that her love for him was shallow? That she’d let him
shrug off his own death? “That’s not fearlessness. That’s plain stupid. You’re not an acceptable loss either, butthead.” “Butthead?” “I’m not letting you go, and I’m through letting you hide.” “Right now, I’m here with you.” “I married you for forever, Ry.” She hadn’t realized what that meant when she made the vows, but she understood after enduring his absence. “Forever may not be long for me. I’m a bad bet.” The soft words cut through her anger. She loved Ryder with everything she had, and he was hurting as much as she was, but in his own way. Which usually involved running the hell into
danger. He would rather wage war than talk. Lauren stopped pacing and sat primly at his side. She folded her hands to in her lap so her wild gestures didn’t detract from what she was trying to say. “All my life, I’ve wanted an out of control love that was all mine.” “Baby.” He winked. “What went down in the shower was off the hook, out of control, top of the line—” “Stop trying to lighten the subject.” “Sex isn’t light if you do it right.” Lauren squeezed her hands together. “That’s the thing. It’s not about the sex. I need a man who wants me so bad he can’t leave me.” The silence stretched. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Baby, I
didn’t have a choice.” “I swear to God, Ryder, if you call me baby again I will gut you and filet you for dinner. You don’t get to call me sweet nicknames while telling me you have to leave.” He honestly believed she was better off without him, but he didn’t know the real her. Neither had she until his departure made her face her biggest fear. She’d fight for him harder than he’d fight to leave. He’d said his piece, now it was her turn. “My mother loved my father completely. Losing him killed her. Slowly. And I blamed her for not loving me enough to heal. I thought she chose to be miserable; that she chose not to get over him and move on.” She cleared her
throat, feeling the tightness all the way to her soul. “I never understood, not really, until you left.” A childish understanding of her mother’s grief had skewed her view of love. “I wasn’t willing to give more to a man than he gave to me. Even you. So when you left, I went to the lawyer, determined not to become my mother, and then I...” Her voice trailed off. She’d gone deeper than she intended, spilling things she was still working out in her head. She had an entire life history to rewrite. “I can see why the aborted sentences bother you.” She choked out a laugh. “Maybe the women in my family are wired differently. Maybe this is the way love is
for everyone, but I couldn’t get over you. Trust me, I tried, but I love you completely. I missed your socks on the floor and your razor on the sink. I missed your dirty limericks and your romantic poetry. I wake every morning at five because that’s when your alarm went off, and that empty pillow killed me every time. I can’t find a single thing to hate except that you left me.” Tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t hold them back. “I want a lifetime, not a few stolen moments. If that’s not what you want, too damn bad.” He lifted her across his lap, so close his breath brushed her cheek. “When I’m around you, I can’t breathe. You’re everything.” He squinted his eyes
closed. “But if I go off the rails, I could hurt you like Madigan hurt Maggie.” “There are no guarantees. My father’s death was proof of that.” All her life, Lauren had wanted her mother to be better prepared for the loss that had devastated her, maybe to shield herself and love him less, but the joke was on Lauren, because you couldn’t shield from something so encompassing. She wanted Ryder, risks and all. “We’re—” “Everybody decent?” Rose pushed the screen open and stepped onto the porch. “Craft has a lead on the bank. Fowler is a half a day out, but on his way. Let’s get moving.” Ryder nodded. “Give me two minutes.” When Rose left with a dark
look, Ryder turned his attention back to Lauren, nuzzling along her throat. “As long as I live, I will remember every word you just said to me, but you need time to process. The protocol might affect any children we could have, if I even live long enough to—” He cleared his throat. “I could lose it like Madigan. The company could end me. I left you to protect you from all that, and now that you know the truth, you should seriously considering leaving. You’re safer without me.” “I don’t want safe. I want you.” He peered deep into her soul; his dark eyes a deep mossy green that hid so many emotions. “It’s easy to say those words sitting here in the sunshine. I
won’t accept an answer now. While we work on fixing things with Smythe, you need to consider protecting yourself from the risk I pose.” He rubbed his hands over her jean-clad thighs. “I’ll accept it if you decide to leave.” He lifted her off his lap and set her back on the stoop. “Now I need to get to work.” He returned to the house without looking back. “I’m not leaving and neither are you.” She whispered the words to his retreating back. “I control my future and you’re in it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Debi set a serving bowl of scrambled eggs onto the already packed kitchen island as Ryder joined the meeting. The smell of bacon had his stomach growling. Rose stood from his seat at the nearby table and moved to Debi’s side. “Need help?” “Ha. Now you ask, Rosie, after the cooking is all finished. Great planning on your part.” His face went red. “Sorry, I was —” “Sit. Eat. You boys can be on KP afterwards.” Ryder poured a cup of coffee while
the two went at it. He added a teaspoon of sugar and handed it to Lauren when she followed him in. While he poured another cup, she retrieved plates from a cupboard. Debi grabbed silverware and set it on the table. “Eat while it’s hot or you’ll insult me.” Rose shot back out of his seat and half-filled a plate with the eggs. He added cheese and salsa before setting it in the microwave to melt the cheese. Everyone else served themselves off of Debi’s buffet. The food hit a spot that went beyond hunger. He hadn’t eaten this well in months. He and Rose went back for seconds while Craft pulled out a laptop. When he sat back down with
another full plate, Lauren lifted her brows. “Hungry?” He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Worked up an appetite earlier.” The little goose bumps on her neck where his breath brushed made him smile. He shoveled another bite of eggs into his mouth. “What did you find?” he asked Craft. “I found out that you’re an idiot.” Craft’s big hands fumbled across the keyboard. “Your mortgage company is Sun City Freedom Mortgage.” “I am aware.” “Your payments were deposited to Sun City Freedom LLC.” Ryder swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “And?”
“They’re not the same thing, sh*thead.” Ryder dropped his fork to his plate. “Excuse me?” Craft’s smile was nearly feral as he leaned back and took a sip of coffee. “Instead of posting your bill pay check to the mortgage company account, someone posted it to one with a similar sounding name. Smart move, since you didn’t catch it. Lauren didn’t question it.” He gave her a slight smile. “Sorry.” “Not your fault.” She rose to rinse off her plate and set it in the dishwasher. “Can you tell which teller made the switch?” “No. I have a teller number, but no name.”
“Can you compare it to the bank’s HR records?” Debi asked. She’d eaten in silence, surrounded by strangers for the most part. “I like the way you think.” Craft clinked his coffee cup against hers. “And yes, I am that good; however, Ryder’s mortgage check isn’t the only one going into this bogus account. I need to do some forensic accounting to figure out the other accounts affected.” Rose pushed his plate back. “Do we care?” “You’re all heart, Rosie.” Debi stood and grabbed an empty plate with a frown. “There are other people being scammed. Of course we care.” Lauren stood to help clear the table.
“Rose has a point. We’ll nail Smythe either way, right?” The men nodded, but Rose’s color was high as he made notes in his ever present notebook. Craft typed away at the laptop. “While I would typically agree with Rose, this time, we need corroborating evidence. The account is the way to track the scam back to the lawyer as well.” Lauren tripped over her feet and dropped the plate she was carrying. “There’s a lawyer involved?” “Right. The lawyer,” Ryder emphasized. Still pissed him off for no damn good reason. Craft didn’t look up from his computer. “William Muehlberger,
esquire.” The women clearing the table froze, the silence destroying the calm. Craft looked up. “What? I assume everybody knows that’s how the realtor found his victims.” Including his wife. She refused to meet his gaze but turned to put another plate in the sink. Debi bent to sweep up the broken pieces. Rose knelt to hold the dustpan for Debi, but she brushed his hands away. “We got it, Rosebud. But you boys are responsible for dinner. That is, if you’re staying.” They all turned to Ryder. He expelled the breath he’d held since the first mention of the lawyer. “The dirtbag and his henchmen know about this place. We need to keep an eye on you ladies
until Smythe and company are out of commission.” Rose took the broom from Debi’s hands much the way he had the rifle the night before. “Craft’s the best cook, and if he’s sitting on his ass all day, he has the most time.” “Chili and cornbread. It can simmer while I work. That leaves you two with the job of following Smythe as well as recon on the bank teller.” “Ryder blew his cover with Smythe.” “How?” Craft took a sip of orange juice. “Dumbass walked right up to him. If Smythe was a skunk, he’d have sprayed him.”
Craft set his OJ on the table. “You have lost your f*cking focus, brother.” “It was the right thing to do.” Knowing Smythe was putting the moves on yet another female had been unbearable. Ryder brushed toast crumbs across the table. “I’ll take the bank while you follow Smythe,” he told Rose. “Why do we even have to follow Smythe?” Lauren wiped the table down with a dishcloth. “We know he’s in on it, we know where he works and where he lives.” “We need to find a connection to those men last night.” She rinsed the dishcloth in the sink, but raised her voice over the running water. “They’re not going to make it
easy on us and show up at his office. Seems like a waste of time.” “She has a point,” Rose offered. Lauren squeezed water from the dishcloth before draping it over the rim of the sink. “I often do.” “Probably better to stick together when you’re out of the house. Two-man teams.” Craft glanced up from the laptop screen. Then he winked. “I’ll keep an eye on the women.” Debi settled a hand on her hip. “Well, this woman has some business to handle if we’re hiding out here until this blows over.” “You’re not going alone.” Rose stepped closer to Debi. “I can go with you,” Lauren
offered. “Sorry.” Debi frowned. “I’m for sharing and all, but this is a solo gig.” Craft stared between them. “Whatever you decide, do it quickly and get out of my hair. I have work to do.” Ryder nailed him with a glare. Craft lifted his hands in a sign of acquiescence. “Your call, boss.” Lauren braced her arms on her narrow hips, drawing attention to her ample bosom. Craft added in his intention to purchase surveillance equipment and burner phones, and Lauren offered to hold down the fort. Ryder stepped into the melee before it grew into an argument. “Rose, you’re with me. We need Craft on
computers and surveillance, but before you head out, put a tracker on Debi’s phone so we can keep an eye on her. Can I talk to you?” Ryder put a hand around Lauren’s bicep and led her to the back bedroom, torn between letting her stay at the ranch alone or riding along on bank surveillance. Both carried risks. “I know what you’re going to say. Stay down, stay safe.” “Something like that.” “Who says staying is safe? Bad things happen and we have no warning where and when. If I’m going to bite it, I’d like to do it actively resolving the problem rather than waiting around.” Ryder brushed a hand through her long tresses. “You’re not going to bite
it.” She stepped into his embrace and his arms naturally circled her waist. “I learned something about myself when you left. I don’t handle the waiting well. At all. If something happened to you while we were apart, or something happened to me? The pain and the guilt would be unbearable.” Her voice faltered. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stared up at him with shimmering eyes. “I’m safer with you.” Damn, but she had a point. “Okay, but you do what I say. No free styling.” “Would I do that?” “In a heartbeat.” He traced his fingers through her hair, felt her shiver in response. “You’re right. We are safer
together.” For now. “But every mission has a leader, and today, that’s me.” “Yes, sir.” She lifted her hand in mock salute. “I see your smartass bone is fully healed.” He dropped a kiss to her lips. He meant to keep it light, but the energy running through his system made it damn hard to hold back. With a firm grip on her hair, he pulled her head back and dove in. When he lifted his head, her eyes stayed closed an extra moment, before opening with a wide grin. “Now I get to see how the big boys play.”
The big boys were boring. Lauren shifted in her seat, wedged between two hulking and overprotective men. She dropped her head to her hand, smacked her injury. Again. “Can we go already? We’ve been sitting here an hour.” “What’s the plan?” Ryder prompted her to repeat the plan. Again. Lauren stared out the window. They were parked beside the bank. Traffic on the nearby street was steady as was traffic in and out of the parking lot. If they stayed any longer, someone was
going to call the cops on suspicion of something. It’s not like they were sitting in a coffee shop or mall parking lot. “We all go in. We go to separate tellers. Make small deposits. Get a receipt. Easy-peasy, Ryder. Chill.” It’s not like they were going to rob the place. They just needed a name and face to go with the teller number Craft had found. “If something unexpected happens?” “Like what, Ryder?” The frustration welled up in her voice. They’d been over this plan too many times to count. Rose set a gentle hand on her shoulder to turn her to face him. “He’s trying to keep you safe. Let him. It goes against training to let a civilian walk
into danger.” “Do you honestly think there’s danger here?” “A week ago, did you honestly think someone would cut your brake line, cause a crash, and kidnap you?” Rose asked. Lauren turned to Ryder and saw the unwinnable edge to his jawline. She couldn’t force them to go before they were ready, and honestly couldn’t force them to let her go into the bank if they didn’t want her to. “Fine. If something unexpected happens, I run out the door. I do not engage. I head straight for this truck.” She gripped the keys in a fist. “I get in the truck and drive off. Leaving the two of you to fend for yourselves.”
“Damn straight.” Ryder nodded emphatically. “Can we go now?” Lauren winced. Even she heard the whiny edge to her tone, but she hadn’t prepared for the long time of nothingness that made up surveillance. Rose twisted her around to face him again. “Sweetheart, this is how a mission runs. We brief it until everyone knows the plan. We plan for every contingency. You wanted to see how the big boys play. This is it.” Ryder squeezed her thigh. “Most of the time, a mission is death by briefing.” Lauren took a deep breath. “And the rest of the time?” “All hell rains down on your head.
Since it’s your head, I’d rather avoid that outcome.” All things being equal, she’d rather not lose her head. They had let her come, the least she could do was act like a part of the team. This was the chance to gain insight into her husband rather than watch silently from the sidelines. “Okay, so tell me what you’re looking for?” Ryder’s eyes lightened with approval. He pointed at the building across from them. “Perfect spot for a sniper. As is this building.” He pointed to the one next to them. “We circled the building so we know all the entries and exits. We made sure all the cars in the parking lot are empty and no one followed us here. If we go inside, we
make sure we control the area first. We don’t half-ass it because we’re stateside.” “What happens when you’re sure you control the environment?” “Accept that sh*t we cannot control will happen.” Rose nodded his head in agreement. “Every damn time.” Lauren’s heart rate increased. The building was a bank in the downtown area, but the way they viewed it, the way they saw the surrounding world, all of it notched up her stress. No wonder they’d jumped at the chance to be fearless. “Okay. Things I cannot control will happen.” “Use resourcefulness, agility, and
intelligence to overcome the unknown. Egress if at all possible.” “Egress?” “Get the hell out.” She glanced up at Ryder; willing him to see that she would do anything to stay on the same team, even follow orders. Then maybe they could become true partners. “What happens next?” “We go in. Rose, you take point. I’ll take rear.” Ryder slid off the bench seat and held out a hand to help her from the cab of the truck. Before she could move, he trapped her against the side. He dropped a punishing kiss to her lips before escorting her around the truck and across the lot. Following Rose with Ryder’s heat close at her back, she felt
like someone protected by the Secret Service or something. She clicked the lock button on the key fob and followed the rules, stepped where Rose stepped until they hit the entry. Two steps inside and Rose stopped. Lauren was so close she stumbled into his back. Wow, he was as packed as Ryder. And now her head really hurt. Rose did an about face. “We’ve got a problem,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Lauren’s head throbbed where she’d rammed against Rose’s back. He used his speed and agility to get them out of the lobby before she’d taken a full breath. Her heart pounded from his words and fast moves. Ryder opened the exterior door and they egressed like two tanks. Lauren tried to look over Rose’s shoulder, but he mashed her head down like bullets would start flying any minute. Once past the bank’s double doors, Rose dropped her to her feet and she stumbled several yards before stretching her legs to keep up. They ate up sidewalk on the way to the truck. “What trouble?”
Rose did a three-sixty sweep before speaking in low tones. “The plan just got easier. Remember the redhead from yesterday?” Ryder nodded. Lauren looked between the two men. “What redhead?” “Real looker, built like a brick house. Had lunch with Smythe yesterday.” “Looks like we have the third player. Now, what do we do about it?” “Well, since you screwed our covers, dipsh*t.” Rose flicked Ryder on the ear. “She’ll make us the second she sets eyes on you or me.” “Smythe’s a slime ball. I don’t regret interrupting lunch. It was worth it. And she didn’t exactly look like she was
there willingly.” “Slow down.” Lauren was practically skipping to keep up. “This would be so much easier if you took me with you yesterday.” “Smythe would have made you instantly.” Ryder wrapped an arm over her shoulder and took another look around, his eyes focusing on the cars surrounding the truck in the parking lot. The embrace felt more protective than personal. Despite the sun beating down on them, a chill slithered over her skin. “How do we know she’s involved? If she wasn’t with Smythe willingly?” “Odds are, she’s the teller misdirecting the deposits.”
The logic was sound, but they needed proof. Lauren stepped free of Ryder’s heavy arm. “Why don’t I go in, go to her station, and make a deposit as planned. It’s not like it takes military training to make a bank deposit. The receipt will have her teller number, and I’ll get her name. That way, Craft can find her in the HR files. Then we’ll have a better sense of her involvement.” “You’re not going alone.” Ryder practically shoved her into the cab of the truck. “We’ll wait.” Rose stood in the open door on the driver’s side, looking across the cab at Ryder. “You want to waste an entire day on worthless surveillance when we can get what we need and start running a
background check?” “Yes.” Ryder got in the truck and slammed the door shut. The truck interior was warm, even from the few minutes they’d been away, but Rose’s open door let the fresh air inside. “Quit being an ass.” Rose rested his hand atop the open door. “It’s an easy in and out, no danger. Lauren gets the information, so we can determine if the redhead is the bank teller or if there is yet another person involved. Once we have the name and teller number, we can get a background check before the teller leaves work for the day.” “No.” “Great discussion, Ryder.” Lauren dug her fingers into his thigh.
“Remember that conversation we had about you being an arrogant ass?” “I don’t remember agreeing to send you into danger.” “Please. It’s a bank. Video cameras and a bank guard.” Lauren needed to go, to take part in recovering her life. She needed to prove to Ryder that she could be a part of a team. She’d signed over their home like a sniveling victim. “We can even watch for a few minutes so you know who is in the bank to make sure no one suspicious goes in or out.” “Your call, man.” But the expression on Rose’s face said he wanted this done. Ryder took a breath as if trying to decide. So Lauren pushed. “Are you sure
you don’t feel fear?” “This isn’t fear. This is operational control. You’re a civilian and this is an unknown situation. Rose, what did you see inside?” “Small branch, open layout with stands instead of a long row of tellers. Three stands, two tellers, one empty, plus a hallway leading to the back with a window looking out on the drive-thru. One teller at the drive-thru. No guard.” He grimaced. “Sorry, Lauren.” Ryder’s face was unreadable. “How many customers?” “Both tellers are female. They each had customers at their stands, one male and one female, which is how I saw the redhead without her seeing me. One
customer in line, a female holding a kid’s hand. A businessman went in after we walked out. I didn’t get a look at his face, but dark hair, businessman haircut, navy suit.” Lauren now felt like the most unobservant person on the planet. She hadn’t seen anything but Rose’s back. “Is the teller at the drive-thru a male or female?” “All female, including the drivethru.” The question had been sarcastic, she hadn’t fully expected him to know, but apparently, Rose’s powers of observation exceeded the norm. Ryder tugged absently at her hair. “You’re doing a good job keeping up.”
“Don’t be condescending.” “I didn’t say you were stupid. I think you’re brilliant, but this isn’t the kind of work you’re used to.” “Right. I’m an academic. That type of research and problem solving is nothing like the real world.” Her face burned with an anger she didn’t know she was harboring. “Do you even know what my dissertation is about?” “Yes. We talked about it our first date. The first rough draft of history: the role of journalism in framing contemporary and modern understanding of war.” “That’s a mouthful,” Rose commented. “What does it mean?” Lauren was speechless. Ryder had
repeated her words verbatim with as much detail as Rose gave of the bank layout five minutes ago. Was it training that made his memory so good, or did he have a partial eidetic memory? She tuned back into the discussion to hear Ryder explaining her research, and every word out of his mouth shocked her more. “The stories journalists see and report become the primary sources for future historians. Through these journalism pieces, not the actual events, history is written. Or, as I prefer to call it, my woman is a genius.” Pride and love swelled in her chest. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Lauren pressed a kiss to his chin. “But I think I’m smart enough to walk into a
bank and make a deposit.” “Tricky,” Rose said with a dose of appreciation. “I like it.” She batted her lashes at the man in the driver’s seat. “I have my moments.” Ryder took a deep breath. “Point taken. Let’s finish the rundown, and then, yes, my highly intelligent wife can go make a bank deposit. Is there any place in the bank where one of Smythe’s men could hide?” Lauren sighed. “You believe someone is staking out the bank?” “We’re staking out the bank,” Rose said. “No reason to believe we’re the only ones.” “Someone followed you to discover your routines before
kidnapping you.” Ryder’s jaw went hard. “I’m not taking any chances.” Rose let the byplay continue before answering Ryder’s earlier question. “There’s a row of cubbies to the right where they take you to sign away your first-born child, but I couldn’t see over the half-walls. But it’s a sh*t place to stakeout because there’s no exit.” While they talked, the first two customers left. “That leaves the mom and the businessman. Let me get in there before the noontime crowd gets in and I’m stuck in a long line that will make you guys crazy.” Ryder opened the door and slid out, helping her out the truck. “This goes against everything in me. I trust you, but I
don’t trust the situation. Do you have your cell phone?” Lauren patted her back pocket. “Text me if there’s an unexpected delay, or I’m coming in.” Lauren lifted onto tiptoes to settle a soft kiss on his lips. It was hard to be angry when safety was his concern. “See you in five minutes.” She didn’t look back, but felt Ryder’s focus on her as she crossed the parking lot. The double glass doors opened as she approached, and the businessman held the door open for her. She smiled. “Thanks.” Behind her, a man wearing work clothes followed. Ryder’s paranoia had rubbed off, making her nervous to have someone at her back. No wonder Ryder sat with his back to a
wall. When you started to believe people were after you, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and fear ran like blood through your veins. Lauren forced herself to look at the worker, and took note of the details. Snapback hat with a paint company logo matched his work shirt, and his calloused hands were splattered with white paint. Probably exactly what he looked like. Still. When Lauren noted that the non-redhead was free, she motioned the man in front of her. She grabbed a deposit slip and wrote it out for a small deposit to their joint account. What if the redhead recognized the name? Her fingers shook and her writing smudged on the white deposit slip.
Ryder and Rose were turning her into a nervous wreck. At the teller stand, the little girl tugged her mom’s hand. “Let’s go,” she whined. Lauren could so empathize. The longer the mom and girl tugged back and forth, the more Lauren worried that the painter would finish his deposit first. Finally, the redhead directed the mom and daughter to a set of chairs off to the right. “It’s smart to open her a savings account this early. A personal banker will be with your shortly.” She looked up with a smile Lauren recognized as customer-service fake. The smile wavered when she saw Lauren. If the teller’s livelihood depended on tips, she’d be a better liar
when she smiled. She definitely recognized Lauren. “Next,” the woman called. Her frozen facial features said she’d rather stab a knife in her eye than help Lauren. She walked up to the teller with her brightest waitress smile pasted on her face. “How can I help you?” the woman said in a high cheerful voice, and then she lowered it. “Mrs. Ryder, now is not a good time.”
Ryder slid his phone back and forth through his fingers while he kept his gaze on the door to the bank. A country station sounded through the small cab, rattling Ryder’s cage. “Can we change the station?” “My truck, my station. You should have kept your car.” The fast little Mustang was his booby prize for leaving the Army, but people remembered seeing it, and it attracted some unwanted attention when he was trying for stealth. The bike was easy to stow if need be, and it was fast. Efficient. Plus, he had needed money to fund his travels. “You know why I did.” Rose rubbed the dashboard of the truck with a clean towel. “Yeah, well,
I’m keeping my truck.” “A truck blends around here, and silver may as well be invisible.” “Are you telling me I can keep my truck?” Rose folded the towel and tucked it into pocket on the door panel. “Because I don’t remember asking for permission.” “No, I’m just saying, the situations were different.” “Right, because it wasn’t the car. You were trying to get rid of anything that reminded you of Lauren.” The car had smelled like her, sweet summer sunshine and home. Every time he turned to the passenger seat, he pictured her sitting there. Heard her laugh. It f*cked with his focus, so he’d
had to get rid of the car. Not that it helped. Her memory didn’t need an anchor. She was wrapped around his soul. He hadn’t been able to tuck her safely out of his life. “I told Lauren.” Rose turned down the radio. “Everything?” “Enough.” “Which means you told her dick. You keep things tight to the chest. It’s like you’re building your own suicide vest, and at some point, you’ll explode.” Rose was right, in more ways than one. Ryder didn’t play well with others, but the days where he could maintain operational control by limiting information were long past. He hadn’t been able to fix things on his own. The
team deserved to know everything. “We need better comms.” Rose shook his head. “You’re so full of it. Changing the subject like I have the attention span of a fifteen-yearold.” Now was not the time. He clicked his phone awake. “Comms?” “On the list. It’s only been three minutes. Hold your sh*t.” A man in painter clothes stepped out of the bank. What the hell was taking Lauren so long? Ryder pulled the door handle to open the door. “I’m going to go take a walk around.” “Keep your ass in the truck. She’s fine.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN Lauren’s hands trembled as she set the deposit slip on the counter. Her fingers rewrote the words and numbers. Nerves. What she wouldn’t give for a dose of fearlessness. The redhead’s name was etched into a white plastic nametag. “I’d like to deposit this, please, Miranda.” The deposit slip fluttered in Miranda’s unsteady hands before she fed the slip through the reader. In the waiting area, the little girl pounded a toy against the glass table in the waiting area. Each time the toy hit, Miranda’s shoulders hitched. The teller knew her name. She had to know the situation, but Lauren
held back the questions. All she needed was the deposit slip. Miranda turned her attention to the adjacent teller. “Shelby, why don’t you take a quick break before the lunch rush?” The pretty blonde smiled, lighting up the room with a legit smile, something neither Miranda nor Lauren could muster at the moment. “Sure, call me if it picks up.” “I’m sure it’s fine. Earl just got back from his doctor’s appointment. He can help if it gets busy.” Shelby locked her computer and stepped around the corner. Behind them, a personal banker introduced himself to the lady with the
kid and the sound of the toy hitting the table stopped. Miranda’s eyes flicked toward the banker. Everything about her was tense, as if she feared her life falling apart. Lauren was okay with that. “Can I have my receipt?” “Just. Hush.” Miranda typed into the keyboard as she spoke, and then turned to the side, as if trying to see if her coworkers could overhear. “Mrs. Ryder, I didn’t misdirect your mortgage payments. I—” The woman clamped her lips together when someone approached from behind. Lauren heart hitched, nearly landing in her throat at the teller’s direct approach. She had been so focused on Miranda that she’d lost awareness of her
surroundings. She turned, but the lobby was empty. A banker had led the mom and kid into one of the small cubbies, but the kid was still pounding a toy, this time on a window in the far corner. Lauren turned back to the teller. “We’re alone now. Finish what you were going to say.” The woman had been ready to spill her guts before the banker had moved closer. Miranda focused on Lauren. A flush climbed her chest in nervous red splotches. “They have my son,” she hissed. “You need to go. Now.” They had the teller’s son? Jesus, was there no morality left in the world. “How? Where?” Miranda’s eyes flicked to a spot
behind Lauren’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” This close up, streaks of makeup and concealer were visible around her heavily made-up eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “I can’t risk him, so you need to go. Now.” Miranda printed a receipt and handed it over with a plastic customer-service smile. Only Lauren was close enough to see the paper tremble in her hand. “Have a great afternoon.” Lauren reached out and grabbed the teller’s wrist instead of the receipt. “My husband can help you. Talk to me.” “Is there a problem here?” The man’s voice had an edge, so Lauren released her grip and turned. The banker she had seen from behind
approached. He was tall, dressed in dark suit, a pale yellow shirt, and tie. His nametag said Earl, but Lauren recognized him from the other night. His face was still mangled; his eyes and nose were rimmed with bruises. Lauren’s heart nearly lurched out her throat. “Last time I saw you, you had a nose bleed.” “Broken.” Earl’s face twisted into a feral mask that no sane person would mistake as a smile. “Car accident.” “Right.” She just bet Ryder hit like a truck. Unfortunately, Ryder was still sitting in the parking lot. “The bruises haven’t even faded and you’ve forgotten the lesson he taught you. My husband isn’t some helpless female you and
Smythe can intimidate.” Earl unbuttoned his jacket to reveal a holstered weapon. “Your husband isn’t here, now is he?” The kid toddled out of the banker’s cubicle and went straight for the table where she started pounding her toy again. The sound ratcheted Lauren’s tension. She swallowed and faced Earl with more courage than she felt. “Walk away while you can still walk.” As threats went, this was truth. Ryder had threatened to kill the man if he ever saw him again. “Too late for that. Where is Mr. Ryder?” Lauren bit her lip. What was the best answer to that question? Do not
engage. Lauren twisted away from the teller stand and made it a few steps before the banker grabbed the kid and moved between Lauren and the door. He kept his voice low and calm as he used the kid as a shield. “I’ll shoot you before you make it to the door. Then this kid and Miranda’s kid. I got nothing to lose.” Miranda came around and grabbed Lauren by the arm, her fake nails digging into bare flesh. Lauren glanced at the door just a few feet away. She might make it out, but Miranda wouldn’t. Neither would the kid. The mom came rushing around the corner with a look of panic on her face. When she saw Earl, she put a hand to her chest. “God, she scared me. I’m so
sorry. I was on the phone.” Earl’s smile exceeded customer service fake. He could sell a boat to a man in the desert. “She’s fine.” The kid drooled over Earl’s suit. “You can finish up your call.” “Are you sure?” The mom looked between the tense grouping in the middle of the bank, looking like she was poised to spring into action. She brought her phone up to her ear. “Mom, I’ll call you back.” While the woman was saying her goodbyes, Earl turned to Lauren. He ran a hand over the kid’s fuzzy hair. “What’s it gonna be, Lauren?” Dread anchored her to the spot. She should have listened to a Ryder.
Apparently making a deposit was beyond her. She gave him a tight nod. “It’s your way.” The mom came over and held her hands out for the kid. “Sorry about that. Come here, Emma.” With a black, warning look to Lauren, Earl turned to present a different face to the mom. “It’s no trouble. I love kids. Why don’t you go have a seat and we’ll finish up in a minute.” “Sure.” The mom’s eyes flicked between Lauren and Miranda who probably looked to be locked in hostility. They were, but not the kind they could warn the mother about. “I’ll get Emma a snack and she’ll leave us in peace this time.”
The mom turned to the banker’s cubicle. While Earl’s back was turned, Lauren inched towards the door. If she could get Ryder inside, he’d stop Earl from using his gun. Earl closed the distance between them and lowered his face into hers. “You’re a selfish bitch willing to sacrifice all these people.” “So anything that happens to them is my fault?” That’s the kind of logic that kept women with abusive men. Lauren didn’t buy into it. “Why not take responsibility for your own actions? You’re threatening them, not me, and if you shoot, it’s because you’re the psychotic asshole. Not me.” He twisted her arm and pushed her deeper into the bank. “I’m a
businessman. This deal was working for years before you stuck your smug nose into it.” “You’re the one who pulled me into it when you stole from me.” “Wasn’t stealing from you.” The man was delusional. Miranda’s nails were digging a river on the underside of Lauren’s forearm. Earl focused on Miranda. “Tell Shelby I had an emergency and had to take an early lunch. Something about the accident. Once we’re gone, you can let the mom and her brat know I had to step out. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to keep your mouth shut.” What might have been an apology lit Miranda’s teary eyes. “I won’t call
the cops.” Earl grabbed Lauren’s arm. “Where’s your husband?” Out front. Please let them leave out the front. Earl yanked Lauren deeper into the bank. If she could have let Miranda know Ryder was out front, maybe the woman could get word to him, but Earl kept them separated. Maybe if Earl left her alone, she could text Ryder. Maybe he’d put her in the trunk again. Or surely Ryder would come into the bank soon. He had told her five minutes, and it felt like hours had passed in the dim light of the bank. Following like a sheep to slaughter rubbed her wrong, but Lauren refused to let the women in the bank get hurt, so she
didn’t resist. Once they were out of the bank, all bets were off. They breezed through a break room with no sign of the perky Shelby before leaving out the staff entrance. The sports car from the first night was parked straight back in the staff lot. The shiny black paint glistened in the sun, the kind of car that made young men dream. “You weren’t here earlier.” They’d checked the staff lot before going inside the first time. “Doctor’s appointment.” Earl led her outside, but Lauren dug her heels in, not willing to climb inside the car that had stolen her from Ryder less than seventy-two hours ago. “I’m not getting in that car.” “Your chance to bargain is over.
You left the bank. I might not have a gun on the brat, but Miranda’s boy is another story. She told you about her son, right?” They stood on the back patio where workers could take breaks or smoke, but it was empty. Lauren withheld an answer. “He’s autistic. And he’s been without his meds for—” Earl twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “At least twenty-four hours.” “You took him after Ryder blew up the meth house.” Maybe after the failed lunch between Smythe and Miranda, which Ryder had also interrupted. Earl hit the fob on his keychain and the car unlocked with a chirp. He dug hands into Lauren’s bicep, bruising the
tender flesh as he hauled her across the small lot. “It would have happened anyway. Miranda caught one of the checks I deposited to the wrong account, but she thought it was an accident so she came to me instead of going to the manager.” Deadly mistake. Miranda had caught onto the scam, but didn’t realize how deep it went. That’s why she was at lunch with Smythe. Lauren hoped she could reason with Earl before he took her to the realtor. “You know Smythe’s going down.” Earl opened the passenger and shoved her into the seat. “Smythe’s no longer calling the shots.” The hair stood on the back of her
neck. “He wasn’t smart enough to call the shots to begin with.” “You’re right about that, but we needed a realtor. He worked for a while and now he doesn’t. Scoot over.” Earl shoved her over the stick shift as he slid into the seat. Once in the car he removed the gun from his holster. Her day was definitely getting worse. The hangover still pounded in her temples, aggravated by the fresh flow of fear. “You’re driving.” On any other day, she’d love a chance to drive the sports car, but doing it at gunpoint made her hands sweaty. “I don’t know how to drive a stick.” He cuffed her on the back of the
head where the still raw cut pounded. “Don’t lie. Your pickup was a stick.” It was worth a shot. Lauren swallowed her fear as she twisted the key. The engine roared to life like a powerful animal stretching awake. The power revved up the stick and into her hand as she put the car into reverse. “Where to?” “Where I tell you to go. Go to the street and turn left.” Away from Ryder. If she disappeared with this guy, she was dead. “Who is calling the shots?” “Not your problem.” Actually, it was her problem. She’d like to know who planned to kill her. Lauren drove to the street and looked
both ways. Lunch traffic was increasing and the little sports car was lower to the ground than her pickup. She struggled to get a better view of the scene. Finally, she adjusted the seat forward, but she still felt like she was riding on the ground. Her heart pounded, but she knew she couldn’t turn left from here. Traffic was one thing, but leaving without Ryder seeing her was a death sentence. When traffic opened up, she turned to the right. “I told you left.” “I couldn’t see the traffic and it’s too busy to turn left. I’ll make a U-turn up ahead.” The tremble in her voice didn’t need to be faked. Her heart pounded, the pulse like a smack in every bruise and scrape on her body. She
passed the parking lot and saw Ryder leaning against the truck; turned away to speak to Rose. Her heart dropped. No way had he seen her leave. Hell and damnation. She was on her own.
Ryder tapped the phone to wake it up. “It’s been longer than five minutes. I’m going inside.” “You’ll blow it.” “When your wife goes into an unknown environment in the middle of
an op, then you can judge.” “I don’t have a wife.” “My point exactly. Keep your eyes open, numbnu*ts.” Ryder followed a heavyset man into the bank where a toddler was throwing a fit. The mother held the kid who arched her back away. “What do you mean, he left?” “Emergency.” The redhead looked past the unhappy woman. Her eyes widened when she saw Ryder. “He had me waiting.” The kid shoved a fistful of Cheerios into her mouth. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The redhead was trying to soothe the lady and failing miserably. “This wasn’t planned. He
was in a car accident yesterday and there were complications.” A petite blonde called the heavyset man forward. Lauren was nowhere in sight. There wasn’t a public restroom. Everything in Ryder went on alert. Obviously Rose had missed something, because there had been a male in the bank if the harried mother was any indication. A man who left rather unexpectedly. Ryder pulled out his phone and opened an app. In a few short moments, it showed a blip not at the bank where it belonged. Damnit, Lauren had gotten out of the bank and onto the street. He walked up to the redhead, interrupting the customer’s loud rant. “Where did he
go?” She looked up at him and stepped back two paces. “I don’t know.” The mouthy customer flapped her mouth, but no words came out. Ryder mentally dismissed her as he stepped into the redhead’s space. “I saved you from Smythe yesterday and this is how you repay me?” “I, uh.” Tears welled in her eyes, but Ryder wasn’t moved by tears. “He has my son.” “Who does? Smythe?” Was there no end to the prick’s evil? “No. Earl.” “Who is Earl?” The mother stepped forward, adding to the chaos. “My banker.” She
flipped the child to her other hip. “Actually, you know what? Tell him I’m taking my business to another bank. And I’m contacting the branch manager.” “Yes, ma’am.” The redhead’s shoulders drooped. “That’s probably for the best.” The woman followed the heavyset man out the door. “Is Earl the man who left with my wife?” Ryder moved forward, crowding the redhead and forcing her to look up at him. “Yes, and, uh…” Ryder wanted to shake the woman, but held back. Now he understood why Lauren got pissed whenever he cut off mid-sentence. “And?”
She took a deep breath, her shoulder shaking when she released it. “And he’s the one who misdirected your deposits. I saw his mistake and went to him to correct it.” “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” He didn’t want to have to ruin the woman’s life, but he would. “You need to inform the bank manager about what you discovered.” Full-on tears dripped down her face, dropping down her chin unchecked. “They’ll hurt my son.” “Not if I get to them first. Where were they headed?” “I honestly don’t know.” Ryder looked down at the app, showing Lauren still moving across
town. “I’ll find them. In the meantime, call the bank manager.” “But—” “I’ll find your son.” What the hell was he doing, promising this woman anything? “As long as you keep my name out of it. Lauren’s too. Out of the bank reports, the investigation, and the police. Everything. You don’t know me, never saw me, and don’t know anything about my accounts. Got it?” She nodded. “How will I know my son is safe?” Ryder promised to text when he had her son. He added her number to his contacts and headed out. He climbed into the truck, and the calmness that should have been panic set his nerves on
edge. This time, he let the anger loose. Somebody was f*cking dying today. “There was a man in there. Personal banker in the f*cking cubicle that you missed.” He tightened his fists, wanting to let loose, but if he took his anger out on Rose, they wouldn’t be at top form when they needed it most. “The limp dick took Lauren and the redhead’s son.” “Who?” Rose started the engine and headed into traffic. “Some asshole named Earl.” Ryder directed Rose towards the constantly moving blip on his phone. “You tagged her?” “Her phone.” Ryder watched the blip, willing her to be safe. “Months ago. It’s how I tracked her to the meth
house.” “There will be hell to pay when she finds out.” “She’ll understand.” Rose snorted. “I barely know her and I know better. You’re delusional if you think she’ll blindly go along with you tagging her.” “As long as she’s still alive.” Ryder watched the locator like a heart monitor. It was the one thing tethering him to Lauren. They drove for long minutes in silence, with only the occasional direction interrupting the blasted country music. Ryder reached up and flipped off the radio. It might be Rose’s truck, but he wasn’t listening to another minute of music that was feeding
his anger. “The redhead just found out about the misdirected deposits.” “Which is probably why she was at lunch with Smythe. Trying to put the moves on her the way he had his other victims.” “Only she got away, so they kidnapped her kid.” “sh*t, Ryder, this isn’t exactly our area of expertise.” “Today it is. We still can’t involve the police for the same reason. I told the woman I’d get her kid in exchange for keeping my name out of it.” “Anyone else you want to save, Superman? It’s just you and me and we don’t have a clue what we’re walking into.”
“You got a better plan? Because I’d be damn happy to hear someone else’s great plan to get my f*cking wife back from these f*ckers before they f*cking hurt her.” Rose drove in silence for several miles. At a stoplight, he turned to Ryder. “Why don’t we get Craft on this? He can pull Earl’s financials and all the evidence he has about the housing scam. He can forward it to bank, so they start working the banking side of the investigation. That frees Craft—” “To follow the lawyer. When he realizes his castle is crumbling, he’ll bail. Most of the money is probably overseas right now. Good bet the legal eagle will have an egress plan. I hate for
Craft to work alone at the ranch. Someone already knows about the place. Easy way to get killed. Ryder shot off a text. “I’m looking to see how far Fowler is from joining the party.” Ryder flipped over to the tracking app and noticed the trend in direction. “He’s taking her to our townhouse.” “Did you say they were setting up another lab situation?” “Which means a couple guards, maybe more after what we did at the last place.” Ryder’s mind whirled with contingency plans. “And more innocents.” “I don’t consider the lab pogues to be innocents.” “No, but there’s the redhead’s kid
at minimum, and kids are unpredictable.” “But we know the layout. The downstairs is all open space, so no walling off a room like they did at the last place. We’ll be able to see everything.” “They’ll see us coming.” “But we’re better than they are. Meaner. Stronger.” “Angrier,” Rose finished. Ryder nodded and did what he’d fought since the day they’d heard about Kandahar. Ryder let the beast loose; let the rage flood his veins and feed his energy. He didn’t need fear or adrenaline. He’d kill every last man, woman, or child who had a hand in
taking Lauren from his side. No one would survive.
CHAPTER TWENTY The boy pounded his head back against the wall, wailing in anger or frustration. He hadn’t said a word since Earl had tossed her into the little guestroom she had used as an office. The boy looked to be upper elementary aged. He had long skinny legs, dark curly hair that was currently fingered into a frenzy, like he’d been electrocuted with everything standing on end. Earl opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Get him to shut his mouth or I’ll kill him.” He glanced at Lauren. “Your choice. You can keep him alive until the boss gets here, but there are too many people around for that kind of
racket.” “Not as nice here as the last digs, huh? Too many nosy neighbors.” “Yes, that f*cker next door keeps knocking on the door like the welcome wagon.” Callahan had been a decent neighbor, checking on her when Ryder left, because he thought Ry was on deployment. Yeah, he’d probably wondered what had happened to them. She’d packed up her stuff and moved out without warning anyone, and now she could really use a nosy neighbor. Unfortunately, the soldier didn’t get back from post until six o’clock on most days, and Lauren had a feeling she didn’t have that long. Earl had taken her phone so
she couldn’t text Ryder. She had to find a way out of the house on her own before the boss showed. The boy smacked his head against the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall. “Five minutes,” Earl warned before slamming the door closed and locking it. They’d switched the knob so they could lock it from the outside. Psychos. Lauren crawled across the carpet. The room was empty, but there were still divots in the carpet where her desk had stood. The levered bi-fold doors to the closet were closed and dark plastic covered the window. As soon as she shut the boy up, she’d take that down. The dim overhead light didn’t do much to dispel the fear that she’d never leave
this room. Never feel the sun on her face. “Hey.” She tapped the boy’s leg. “What’s your name?” The racket he was pounding into the wall stopped for two beats and he opened his eyes. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” He resumed the pounding, but kept his eyes open this time. “I’m not a stranger.” She was as strange as they came. She probably looked like a complete whack-job to the kid, but she needed him to calm down, because she couldn’t let Earl kill the boy. “I know your mom.” Again, the steady beat of his head against the wall paused. “How?”
“We met at the bank where she works. I’m a customer, but, uh, she told me about you. She’s worried about you.” He glanced up, not quite looking her in the eye. “If you know her, what’s her name?” “Miranda. And my name is Lauren. What’s yours?” He tapped his head back as he rocked against the wall, but softer this time. “Caleb. Do you really know my mom?” “Yes. And she’s really worried.” Caleb swallowed. “I’m hungry.” “They haven’t fed you?” The shake of his head hit a trigger to her anger. Anger was probably good. “How about we try to get out and get some lunch?”
“They won’t let us out.” Now that the boy was quiet, Lauren turned to the window. She yanked the black plastic off. The sun felt like heaven as it streamed through. She tossed the plastic to the floor. “They come in if you yell,” he said, as if anticipating her moves. “And they hit. They need consequences if they hit.” “Definitely.” Ryder could rain some serious consequences on Earl and team, but first she had to find a way to get a message to him. Or to get out. She opened the window and pushed the screen out. She looked down at her small yard, fenced off from a row of six similar yards. No one was outside this time of day. Most of her neighbors were
working couples. A dog was in the third postage stamp yard. The HOA forbid dogs, but apparently the owner didn’t care. The dog was quiet, so she’d never heard him. He was just curled into a ball on the four-foot patch of dirt that was supposed to be a flower garden. Lauren looked the other way, but even the yards in the adjacent row of townhouses were empty. “It’s ten feet from window sill to window sill.” Caleb’s voice had a strange emotionless quality. “It’s six feet from the ground to the first window sill for a total of sixteen feet from the second story window to the ground.” Lauren turned. He hadn’t moved from his spot, but he was no longer
rocking. “How do you know that?” “Firemen have to estimate target height and they use ten feet from window sill to window sill. I did a report in school.” “You’re really smart, Caleb.” “I can’t climb sixteen feet. Not even with a rope.” “Me either.” If they were held in the master bedroom, there was a deck, so maybe—a big maybe—she could dangle off the edge to get safely to the ground, but not a straight sixteen feet. “Do you know how many people are in the house?” He shook his head no. “If we were on the third floor it would be twenty-six feet, and if we were on the fourth floor it
would be thirty-six feet.” “Thanks, Caleb. You did that really well.” Lauren stared back out the window. The kid wouldn’t be much help getting out. Like her, he didn’t have any experience with kidnapping. Lauren frowned. Actually, she did have experience as a kidnap victim, but Ryder had been there. This time, he wasn’t even on her trail. She had to find her own way out. “Your mom was right. You’re super smart.” “I can do all my times tables faster than anyone at school. I’m really fast.” “Great.” If they could build a ladder out of times tables, they’d be in business. Lauren leaned her head against the window frame. Tears and fear
threatened to shut her down. She didn’t want to be responsible for getting out, but adding in the pressure of trying to get the kid out weighed her down. He was so young and she was so— Lauren refused to cave to negativity. She was alive, she wasn’t tied up, and she was familiar with the house. She crossed the room to the closet. Maybe there was something there they could use to climb down or get a message to someone. The door resisted as if blocked by something inside. Her heart sped up. Maybe there was something inside after all. She yanked the knob and stumbled back when it finally gave. “Smythe.” She gagged the name. On the beige carpet on the floor of her
closet was Smythe. Bound and gagged. Wrapped in clear plastic, as dead as her dreams of the perfect house. Lauren dropped to her knees. She couldn’t stop breakfast from lurching out. She threw up less than a foot from Smythe’s plastic-wrapped body. His open eyes witnessed the whole thing. When she was finished, she pushed the door closed. “Is that man going to help us?” Caleb asked. “No. He’s...uh...not a good climber either.” Lauren crab-walked across the room. She needed air. She set her head out the window and sucked in the oxygen. If they put her in with Smythe’s
body, they didn’t plan for her to live long. As she peered out, she saw a man pacing in a nearby patch of grass in his tiny yard, talking on a phone. “Hey.” She tried to mock-whisper down, but the man kept pacing, obviously not hearing her. She was afraid to raise her voice or Earl would return, and now that she’d seen Smythe’s body, she was an even greater liability. She looked around for something to throw at the pacing man. She didn’t have anything in her pockets, Earl had made sure of it. That left Smythe, and no way would she open the plastic and dig through a dead man’s pockets. She glanced at Caleb. He was pulling a string at the bottom of his shirt. “Caleb,
do you have anything in your pockets?” “I had five dollars and fifty-seven cents in my wallet, but that man took it. There should be consequences for stealing.” “Oh, sweetheart, I know just the man to deliver those consequences.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. No doubt Ryder would seek retribution, but would he make it before they killed her and Caleb? “You’ve been here longer than me. Did you find anything we can use to get someone’s attention, like a rock or something?” Caleb stood, his lean limbs awkward, bending and unbending like rusty hinges. “We could make a paper airplane out of the plastic. Or a flag.”
Lauren’s heart jumped at the suggestion. “Really good idea, Caleb.” She grabbed the plastic in both hands and strode purposefully to the window. The makeshift flag unfurled out the window, snapping in the wind like a kite. The pacing man didn’t so much as look their way. Using both arms, she yanked the flag inward causing a loud smack as it struck the siding, but the man just put a hand over one ear while pressing the Bluetooth deeper on the other side. “Maybe move it more,” Caleb suggested behind her. Right. She was trying to move it. She waved the heavy black plastic up and down like she was shaking sand out
of a carpet, her arms aching, pulling against the ever-present wind. The wind caught the tail and pulled back, yanking Lauren’s upper body outside. She squealed. Off balance, the sixteen feet to the ground threatening, she windmilled her arms to regain her balance. The plastic fluttered free. “No.” She whispered the word and her voice cracked with stress. “That has some distance.” Indeed, the plastic flew thirty or forty feet before landing on the fence between two tiny yards. The pacing man never broke stride, never looked up, never saw a thing. “Hey,” Lauren yelled at him. “Are you blind?”
“Shhh.” Caleb tugged her arm as if to pull her into the room, but panic took hold. The pacing man felt like their last chance. She’d already blown it, but she really didn’t want to end up like Smythe. She started yelling and pounding on the siding to draw the man’s attention upwards. Instead of looking up, the man slid the door to his townhouse open and walked inside. Lauren sagged against the window frame. Last-chance man had been a long shot. She’d gambled and lost. The sound of the key in the lock triggered another rush of adrenaline. Earl pushed into the room, but he didn’t have his gun out. Lauren tried to take a deep breath but it caught on a hiccup and sounded more
like a sob than a rallying cry. Caleb back stepped into the corner and started rocking on his feet. Earl made a tsk sound. “I thought you were smarter than that.” He came at her straight on and jabbed. Lauren dove to the right to avoid the fist. Earl’s momentum had him stumbling several steps forward. Lauren barreled into him and he smacked against the wall. “Oomph.” The wind knocked out of him, he still didn’t slow. He jabbed back with an elbow, hitting her in the gut and knocking her back. Pain washed through her in waves of angry red and black causing her head to swim. She doubled over, her hands instinctively going to her gut. Earl was on her with a fast punch to
the right cheekbone. Spots, white spots shimmered through her wavering vision. Her breath whooshed in and out. Get it together. Remember, you broke his nose once. While her spine wanted to stiffen, she wasn’t used to getting hit with fists, with fear. Before she could catch her breath, Earl slammed her against the wall with a forearm to her throat. “You’re not using the head-butt on me again, bitch.” She gurgled unintelligible words around the squeezing on her throat. Her fingers clawed his arm, but nothing broke his grip, nothing eased the hatred in his eyes. The spots that had been swimming in her eyes started growing,
blurring her vision as her body fought for oxygen. This was not how she was going out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Ryder fast-roped from the roof to the second story window, fighting friction with his heavy gloves and thick boots. They spent too long casing the outside of the townhouse. Now, the echo of Lauren’s scream eradicated all sanity. He was going in hot, and fury led to mistakes. The pounding in his elusive heart might have been panic in another man. His pulse thundered. He wanted to let gravity carry him faster, but he’d arrive on scene damaged. He needed to land in top fighting form, because whoever put the fear in her scream wasn’t making it out of the house. At the window, Ryder hit full stop
and swung inside. Rose was three meters behind him. The small guest bedroom exuded terror, a remnant of Lauren’s aborted shriek. A man in a suit had Lauren jacked up against the wall with her feet dangling. His elbow closed her airflow. The part of Ryder he struggled to keep in a cage broke free at the sight of his wife. Her face was red and battered, tears streamed down her cheeks while her fingers clawed at an unforgiving arm. His fingers encased in gloves went slick while sweat dripped into his eyes, adding to the angry haze. A roar burst from Ryder’s soul. The sound seemed to revive Lauren. Her bulging eyes opened and she rammed her knee into the target’s groin. Earl’s grip went
slack for a moment before he hauled back to ram a fist into her face. Ryder lunged. A flying tackle had the f*cker on the ground and under Ryder’s clenched fists. He didn’t see a person anymore. He saw a dead man. No one touched Lauren. Earl was about to discover why. A primal urgency wanted to pummel, to nail him fast and furious, but another part of him—the dominant strain he’d released—wanted the target to know judgment day was at hand. The heat that had risen with his anger was cooled by ice running through Ryder’s veins. His movements slowed, not sluggish but controlled rage. Ryder slammed with the heel of his hand,
landing at the other man’s sternum. Bone and cartilage gave under the impact. A satisfying snap rent the air. Earl’s eyes watered, widened in pain and shock. Brutal joy swamped Ryder’s veins. A distant part of him heard Lauren call his name; her voice whiskey rough from the chokehold. The inherent pain in the sound fed the need to destroy. Slowly. Finishing the man quickly was too easy a death. Ryder stood, hauling the man to his feet. He recognized Earl from the roadside fight the night of Lauren’s accident. This was the man who had stabbed him. The man who had trussed up Lauren and tossed her in a trunk. And she’d broken his nose. The bruises on
his face still showed. Ryder grinned. His wife was a fighter, not like this asshole. Earl was sucking wind, breathless and bent like an old man. Ryder yanked off the gloves and nailed him with a right cross that snapped another bone. Skin split, bled, the pain feeding the beast inside who needed to destroy the man who had come for his wife. Twice. “Please.” The man held out his hands. He took a step back until he slumped against the wall. “Please.” A soft hand touched Ryder’s back, sending a shiver up his spine. Lauren. He’d know her touch anywhere. “Did you have mercy on my wife? Did you stop when you choked her?” The image sent another wave of rage through his
blood. He wasn’t nearly finished with this freak. “I didn’t know.” Snot and blood blubbered from his nose. “I’m sorry.” Behind him, Lauren snorted in disbelief. Simply hearing her—alive— tamed the wildness. But not fully. He narrowed his eyes. “I told you what would happen if I saw you near my wife again.” “I didn’t think.” He spit out blood and a tooth. “Message received. I’m out.” “Too late.” Ryder punched, slow and controlled. Waited for the other guy to straighten. Punched again. Gut shot that sent Earl to his knees. The beast roared and kicked the man over and onto
his back. “Ryder.” Lauren’s voice penetrated the haze. “Stop.” “No.” He kicked. The man squealed like a girl, and then he stopped squealing. He lay on the ground, bruised, battered, and bloody, unconscious but not dead. The beast demanded a bloody f*cking sacrifice. Lauren’s hand on his arm whispered to the man behind the beast. “Ryder, baby, stop. He can’t fight back. It’s over.” He hungered for the kill, for ultimate retribution. “He’s still breathing.” “So am I, and you’re scaring me.” Ryder turned to her, his vision
spotty. Her face was pale and her eyes rimmed with red. “The look in your eyes is the same as when you came back from your last deployment. This isn’t who you are.” “Yes. It is.” This was who he had become. What the Army had trained him to be, what the drugs had attempted to create, what the war had wrought, came alive at the threat to his wife. Ryder looked at her through bloodshot eyes and saw his other half. His anchor. She was too damn good for him. “Turn away.” “No.” She shook her head to deny the last request of a drowning man. Her throat was swollen and red. Bruises threatened like a storm under her skin.
She needed an ice pack, but that thought warred with the need to finish the man who had put the bruises there. “Baby, please.” She couldn’t see this. Her midnight blue eyes watered. “Do what you need to do, but I’m not leaving.” “You have to.” Desperation roughened his words. The cut on her lip dripped blood as she attempted a sad smile. “I’ll be okay. Promise.” Not a single part of this was okay. All that was good in the world lived in Lauren. She shouldn’t see the animal he had become, shouldn’t have to witness what they had made him, through drugs
and training and inhumanity. A cold, callous, fearless killer. “Baby, you need to leave.” “Not this time.” She rubbed a hand over his broken knuckles. “You can’t lock me in a room to protect me.” Her soft touch whispered up his jaw to the tension sitting there. “If this is who you are, I won’t turn my back. I won’t leave the room. You can’t hide.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “You can’t make me stop loving you.” The brush of her hand healed something deep, so he leaned into her palm. Seeking. Needing. “I want to give you what you ask, but—” “Earl won’t be coming after anyone for a long time.”
“He’s not the only one.” Smythe and the fighter and the lawyer were still out there. “This isn’t over, and I won’t let them hurt you. Don’t ask me to.” He reached for the hand at his cheek and held it between his large ugly mitts. “I may have to kill to protect you.” “So be it.” She levered up on tiptoe and kissed his chin. “As long as you stay with me.” A chill washed over him, drowning the rage and caging the beast. The thing he feared had happened. She’d seen him at his worst, as a primal beast, enraged and unstoppable. Yet she still wanted him. Still loved him. He didn’t deserve her, but he might not remain human without her. He’d been so out of control,
he’d lost situational awareness. It was a damn good thing their enemy was clueless. “Where’s Rose?” “He went straight for the men climbing the stairs like rats. Took out two before the rest abandoned the nest. He’s kind of a badass.” “He is?” Ryder found he didn’t like her noticing his teammate in that way. Lauren caressed his cheek. “There’s nothing kind of or a little bit about you, Ryder. You’re the biggest badass I’ve ever known.” His hands shook as he rubbed a thumb over her split lip. “Are you okay, baby?” “I’m fine now. Baby,” she mimicked his tone before diving into his
chest, tucking her head under his chin, and wrapping her arms as far around as they’d go. The move all but demanded he put his arms around her. She wasn’t afraid of the beast, not even a little. “When we get somewhere safe, I want to know everything.” “Same goes. I need to know what happened when you walked into the bank.” “Fine.” She mumbled the word against his chest. “But I’m not talking about this situation. I want to know about the Army. About the experiments.” Ryder closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. Alive and exactly where she belonged. Strong enough to handle the truth, the whole
truth. “Okay, but first maybe we should help Rose.” She tilted her head and smiled. “I think he has it handled.” She stepped free and reached back for a boy that Ryder hadn’t noticed. “This is Caleb. We should get him back to his mom.” “The bank lady?” “You know my mom?” The boy’s moves were jerky and disjointed as he stepped closer. “Sure. Met her this morning. She’s anxious to see you.” The kid’s eyes averted to the man bleeding on the carpet before turning his back on Ryder to address Lauren. “Is this the consequence of stealing?” “This is the consequence of stealing
and kidnapping and—” She grabbed the boy’s hand. “That’s probably enough information. Let’s get you to your mother.” They stepped over two men to get to Rose. The rest of the house was abandoned. Rose glanced up as they descended the stairs. “You look like sh*t.” “You better not be talking to me,” Lauren said, her voice returning to normal. “No. I’m talking to the dumbass behind you.” Ryder took the ribbing he deserved. The way he’d lost control was unacceptable. In a war situation, he’d endangered his team, even if it was a
two-man team right now. The lower level was washed in dark so that Ryder had to blink for his eyes to adjust. The room he’d partially painted was crowded with bottles and canisters. The kitchen looked like a lab, with vials and instruments setup on the counter next to the sink. It didn’t look like anything was active, but what the hell did he know? This looked like something out of a crime scene photo. Lauren pressed a hand to the jagged paint line between the living room and kitchen. Her shoulders shuddered. “Not much left.” “Of what?” “Us.” She leaned heavily into his side. “Of what we were trying to build.”
The words sliced open his aching chest. “This is a building. Four walls and a roof.” He placed a hand over her heart. “This is home.” “You always know what to say.” She placed her hand over his and looked up at him with solemn promise. He wanted to answer her promise with a vow of his own, but too much was still uncertain. “Let’s get out of here.” “You can leave a building, but not me. We’re not finished yet.” Ryder settled an arm over her shoulder, incapable of words. The burden of what might have happened weighed heavy on his soul. Lauren still wasn’t safe. There were too many
variables he couldn’t control. He couldn’t leave her alone again. Caleb walked at Lauren’s side. He’d released her hand and seemed content to match her pace. In the front walk, Lauren blocked the harsh sun with a hand, squinting against the light. “Headache?” She nodded. “Everything hurts.” Ryder rubbed a hand up her back and across her shoulders. “We’ll get an icepack and some Motrin as soon as we get away from here.” She opened her mouth to answer, but Callahan jogged up from the parking lot. “Hey, I thought you guys were already moved out.” “Forgot something. Had to go back
for it,” Ryder answered. The neighbor’s gaze took in their appearance. “What happened to you two?” Ryder shook his head. “Training accident.” “Right.” Callahan elongated the word as if he had a hard time believing the bullsh*t answer. “You guys still selling?” “Yes.” Lauren didn’t pause, then looked up at Ryder for emphasis. “No way could I live there again.” Even if they got the bank deal settled, they needed a new start. “I agree.” Callahan shook Ryder’s hand, clamping down hard on the bruised
knuckles. “Good luck, man.” They parted ways, heading for Rose’s truck. “How are we going to get Caleb home?” Lauren asked. “The truck seats three.” “One of us can sit in the bed of the truck.” “No.” Lauren shook her head emphatically. “After everything else that’s happened, it’s too risky.” Ryder almost asked what else could go wrong, but stopped short. He wasn’t tempting fate. Rose shook a set of keys in the air. “I grabbed the keys to the hotrod. I should definitely drive it.” “You have your truck,” Ryder insisted.
Lauren jumped up and snatched the keys from Rose’s hand. “I drove it here, so it’s only fair if I drive it back to the bank.” The men shared a look. Who were they to steal her joy? “Come on, kid,” Rose said. “You’re with me.” Caleb slowed his feet. “I’m staying with Lauren. She knows my mom.” “All right, kid.” Ryder held the door open and let Caleb slide in back. When Lauren was safely settled, Ryder closed the door and walked around to the passenger side. He paused with his hand on the handle and spoke to Rose. “Meet you back at the bank. Give Craft a call and let him know what went down.”
Rose nodded and flicked the fob to unlock the truck. “You call Fowler and find out where the hell he is.” Lauren popped back out the driver’s door. “Hey, Rose, do you have anything to eat in your truck?” He shook his head no. “How about sunglasses?” Rose brought her a pair of aviators and headed back to the truck. Lauren popped on the sunglasses, covering the worst of the bruises and scrapes around her eyes, but the sight of them was embedded in Ryder’s memory. Lauren took them through their favorite drivethru a block away to get the kid some chow and Ryder sent a text to his mother telling her the boy was safe. He
swallowed two burgers before dropping back into the seat. He was asleep before they made it halfway across town. In the meantime, Ryder shot off a text to Fowler asking him to check in with an ETA. When he was sure the kid was out, he twisted to face Lauren. They needed to get a few things straight. “What was the game plan back at the bank?” Her shoulders slumped. “Stay low, stay safe.” “That’s always the plan. At the bank, I specifically told you not to engage. If anything went south, you were to head out.” She braked at a stoplight. “In my defense, Earl threatened to kill a toddler and Miranda and Caleb.”
“And rather than trust me to handle the situation, you let yourself be taken hostage. Again.” “I don’t know about let myself get taken.” The light turned green and she accelerated, shoving through the gears fast enough to slam Ryder back in his seat. “The gun overruled my objections.” “Longest five minutes of my life.” She was only supposed to be in the bank for five minutes. Ryder took a deep breath to keep from yelling at his wife. Sweat beaded his brow. The day was sunny but windy, not too hot, but the inside of the little vehicle felt cramped and overheated. He had failed at his number one priority. She’d been taken on his watch. The features he loved were
discolored like a boxer after twelve rounds. The natural curve of her lips was split and swollen, and the delicate skin at her throat had cuts and contusions. “It’s killing me to see you bruised. Trouble seems to follow you.” She glanced at him, her eyes sliding to the right before focusing back on the road. “Who protects me when you leave?” He grabbed a lock of hair and let the silky strand filter through his fingers. “I nearly killed a man with my bare hands. I’m the danger, baby. Why don’t you understand that?” “You’ve never hurt me. Why don’t you understand that?” She took her hand off the stick shift and rested it on his
knee. “I married you because you’re strong and smart and sexy. I married you because you remember every detail of our first date; because you listen and actually care about my work; because you intimidate Professor Crawford.” She laughed at that one, but the sound was strangled by unshed tears. “Because you quote poetry and Frederick the Great and Sun Tzu’s The Art of War; because with you, I’m never alone, even when you’re not in the same room, I know I’m safe. Ryder, you’re the center of my life. I married you for forever, not just when things are easy.” Ryder let his eyes drift close. Exhaustion crowded in on him, weighing his shoulders down and filling the
daylight with shadows. “I may not have forever.” The hand on his knees squeezed. “Then we take what we can get, but Ryder, I’m all in. I won’t let you go a second time.” He nodded his agreement, because he couldn’t fight past the lump in his throat. He coughed and glanced back at the sleeping kid. “What happened with Earl?” “He locked me in the room with Caleb. We were waiting for the boss, whoever that is.” “Smythe?” “Oh, you’d think, right? Until I stumbled on his body wrapped in plastic.”
Ryder leaned back in the seat. Smythe’s dead body implied a new direction in the threat to Lauren. “Someone’s cleaning up the mess.” “Looks like.” Ryder’s gut clenched. “Baby, if they’re cleaning up the mess, you’re a loose end. You’re the only one who didn’t fall in line.” “My husband taught me to defend myself.” “You’ll make a team member yet.” She’d gone from being impulsive and pigheadedly independent to working as part of the larger team. “I’d rather be your partner.” Hell, he didn’t know if he could do a partnership. “I’m wired to lead.”
“We’ll work on that.” She rubbed her jaw where new bruises combined with the ones from the accident. “Earl would neither confirm nor deny, but I’m guessing the lawyer is the boss.” As they drove through afternoon traffic, Lauren relayed her experience. Knots formed in his gut at the details, but she didn’t spare him, didn’t hide anything. “I’m the one who started this. I walked into lawyer’s office the first time and put myself on his radar.” A sickness wound around his heart. He had come back to end things with Lauren. For her safety, but knowing she didn’t want him cut deep. “Why did you?” She downshifted to change lanes
before speeding around a slow truck. The speed indicated her tension, one that increased as she zipped onto the interstate and wound aggressively through traffic. “I didn’t want to spend my life mourning a man who left me.” “Your father?” She nodded tightly, her eyes hidden behind the glasses, but her throat flexed when she swallowed. “I acted in haste. Let my fear rule me. I’m sorry.” She was apologizing to him? Ryder was humbled by her generosity. “Baby, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” His throat tightened on the words. He wanted to promise it wouldn’t happen again, but under the same situation—to protect her —he’d leave in a heartbeat, although that
hadn’t worked so well the first time. “I think I should go back to the lawyer.” His heart flexed. After the deep connection of the last few days. After her statement about forever. “You want a divorce.” Now his throat closed, barely choking out the words. “No. God.” Her hand fluttered to his thigh. “He doesn’t know we are aware of his involvement. If we went in together, acted like we wanted to get the paperwork started? You could plant a bug or something.” The shock turned to anger. “Hell no.” He couldn’t let her put herself at risk again. “I let you go into the bank, against every instinct I had. That won’t
happen again.” “I survived.” She kept her eyes on the road. “Look at you. You’re bruised and bloodied. He had you against the wall.” “I fought back, but I survived thanks to you. How did you know where to find me?” “We were already on the roof, planning to enter through the master bedroom when we saw the black flag.” Then he heard her scream and something inside him had fractured. “Smart thinking.” “It was Caleb’s idea.” She glanced back in the rearview mirror. The kid was still sacked out. “But that doesn’t answer my real question. You’re
avoiding the truth. How did you find me.” He handed over her phone without a word. “Are you telling me you put a tracker in my phone?” Her voice did that high-pitched thing as she smacked the steering wheel. “No tracker. It’s an app.” “You’ve been stalking me?” “Stalking is a harsh word.” He had put the app on her phone to keep an eye on her when he was far away. It soothed the demon to know where she was. “Tracking you proved necessary. Twice,” he reminded her in case the anger on her face broke free. “We need to talk about trust.” She
tucked the phone in her back pocket. “This has nothing to do with trust. It’s about safety.” “Oh, so when do I get a tracker on your phone?” “Baby, I don’t need your protection.” “Wipe that smug grin off your face, Ryder. If I have to get Craft’s help, I’ll have that app on your phone by sunset.” At the next exit, she pulled off and stopped at the light. Ryder leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re the most determined woman I know.” “Ha. Don’t think you can sweet talk your way out of this.” He lifted his hands in mock
innocence. “Would I do that?” She glared over at him. “In a heartbeat.” “Besides, we don’t need to confront the lawyer. While you were MIA, Craft sent the records and evidence he collected to the bank, the FBI, and about a dozen state and local agencies.” “The lawyer will be long gone before they get their act together. He’ll be on a beach somewhere spending our mortgage money.” “Don’t count on it.” Ryder grinned. “Craft is good. He put a tag on the lawyer’s passport. He’s now on the nofly list.” “Can he do that?”
“He did it. Now all we have to do is keep you safe until they put Earl and crew behind bars, just in case they get stupid enough to seek revenge.” Lauren made the last turn to the bank. “Could take awhile.” “Guess I’ll have to stick around.” Her smile banished the darkness. “Don’t park in the employee lot. Take it to the parking garage on Elm.” She followed his directions to the parking garage and hid the hotrod in between two SUVs. “Any particular reason we don’t make this easy for the cops to find?” “I have a buddy I can call to wipe it clean. When they run forensics, I don’t want any evidence linking you to the car.
As far as the investigators know, we were never near the meth lab or the men scamming us out of our house.” They walked Caleb to the bank and left him on the employee patio. They moved back before sending a text to Miranda. She raced out seconds later and embraced the boy. She looked around but didn’t see them. “Do you think she’ll keep quiet about you?” Ryder nodded. “She wanted her son back, and she really doesn’t want to admit to helping Earl and his cohorts. She’ll keep quiet.” They walked around the block where Rose picked them up. “We’ve got trouble,” he said as soon as they closed the door to the outside world.
“Really? It’s been such a peaceful day so far.” Lauren smirked. She took the chaos like a seasoned vet. Rose ran the details as they drove through town. “Fowler called. He’s got a tail. They’re trained and he can’t shake them.” “Where is he?” “Outside of Tucson and headed this way.” Ryder rubbed the bones around his eye socket, trying to ease the freaking headache that wouldn’t end. “Baby, I can’t take you with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO “You disappear and I will hunt you like the dog you are.” Trust. Lauren had to learn to trust him at some point. Debi was right. Lauren couldn’t live in fear that he’d leave, the way she had been from the beginning. She kicked the rear tire of Rose’s truck. They stood in the staff parking lot under a tree that filtered the afternoon sun. Ryder brushed the hair off her shoulder. “We’re walking into a volatile situation. I will not take you into what amounts to a combat situation.” The intractable set of his jaw promised he would not be swayed. Lauren swallowed her objections.
After the week she’d had, she didn’t really want to go anywhere she could be shot at or beaten. “You think Earl and his cronies are on the run?” “Yes. Craft confirmed that there’s a warrant out for Earl’s arrest. The lawyer has a flight scheduled this evening. He won’t be on it.” Ryder’s certainty soothed her fears. “What about the others?” “The remaining conspirators will try to run before the investigators link them to the evidence implicating the lawyer and Smythe. With Smythe dead, the rest of the crew will scurry into the shadows, but I want you to stay in a public place just in case.” “How long until they find Smythe’s
body?” The idea of a decomposing body in her old house nauseated her. “Not our problem. Is Debi on the way?” Lauren smoothed the cotton over Ryder’s chest. “You know she hates campus.” Not that Lauren blamed her. “But she said she’d be here soon.” “Good. Go somewhere public. The cafeteria or the library.” Ryder pulled her body into his. “Keep your phone on you.” “I’m seriously texting Craft and getting that app on your phone.” Lauren smoothed her hands over his shoulders to twine around his neck. “Come back to me.” “If it’s safe.”
“That’s not the same thing.” She lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head so she could look him in the eye. “I’m safest when you’re with me.” He brushed a thumb over her throbbing lip. “I’m starting to think that’s true.” “Trust me. It is true.” Tingles spread from his light touch. “Kiss me.” “There’s nowhere that won’t hurt you.” “I’ll live.” Lauren swallowed. If they were separating, even briefly, she wanted that last good kiss in her memory banks. The distracted kiss and go in the kitchen haunted her. “I need you, Ryder.” He lowered his head, softly dropping his lips to hers. He tried to
keep it feather light, but Lauren didn’t give him what he wanted. She stepped onto the tips of her toes and pulled his head lower. Erotic pain accompanied the drugging kiss as she pushed past sweet and into steamy. Her tongue tasted him. He pulled her closer so she felt his erection against her cleft. The want didn’t fade, could never end. Rose tapped the horn and Ryder lifted his head. “I have to go.” Lauren smoothed hair from his face. “I will hunt you.” “Then I guess the only way to keep you from stumbling into more trouble is to come back.” “You guess right.” Lauren dropped to flat feet. “Be safe.”
“That’s my line.” He pressed one last soft kiss to her cheek and disappeared into the truck. Lauren watched it merge into traffic before dropping the sunglasses into place and winding her way through campus. The wind rustled branches and made the shady path cooler. Lauren wrapped Ryder’s coat tighter around her chest. At the admin building, she stepped inside to get out of the wind. “Professor?” At the coffee kiosk, Beth stared at her, mouth open like a fish on a hook. “What happened?” Did she look that bad? Maybe she should have avoided people, rather than walk into them and encourage speculation. “The accident,” she lied.
“Just looks worse today with the bruises coming out.” Right. “Do you have any ice?” “Sure.” Beth scooped ice into a plastic bag and handed it over the counter. “Anything else? A coffee maybe?” Just the idea of coffee turned her stomach. Lauren sent a quick text to Debi telling her to meet in her office. Being around people was a bad idea. The look on Beth’s face was enough evidence of how horrific her appearance must be. “A hot tea, maybe?” Lauren set the phone down and reached for her wallet, but Beth waved her off. “This is on me. Really looks like you could use it.”
“You have no idea.” Lauren pressed the icepack to her throat. The chill chased away some of the ache. Maybe she should take a bath in the stuff. “I appreciate the tea.” Beth’s hands shook as she handed over the insulated cup. “Are you sure you’re okay? Can I call anyone?” “No.” Lauren added honey to the tea and stirred until it dissolved. Beth watched like she expected Lauren to fall over at any minute. Great. This would be all over campus before the weekend. Crawford would eliminate her for sure. “Thanks, Beth.” Lauren walked the long way around the admin building, hoping to avoid Crawford who had office hours this afternoon. If she were lucky—what
were the odds—he’d think the rumors were an exaggeration from the accident. Crawford liked Ryder, so surely he wouldn’t think what Beth so obviously thought, that Ryder hit her. As if. Ryder lived in terror of it, but Lauren knew without a doubt that Ryder would never cause her harm. Lauren shut the door and kept the light out so no one would notice she was there. Hopefully. She eased her tired bones into the black office chair behind her desk and let it tilt back. With the sunglasses still on, very little light made it through, and the dim light soothed her throbbing eyeballs. There wasn’t a bone or muscle in her body that didn’t hurt like hell. She set the ice pack on her
neck and sat that way until the cold numbed the pain. She titled forward and grabbed her tea, which had cooled enough to drink. She took several long swallows, and the warmth was like a balm to her sore throat, but the bitter taste didn’t do much for her tongue. Lauren grabbed the white tab and noticed it wasn’t her regular blend. Beth must have been so discombobulated that she picked the wrong one. After another unsatisfactory drink, Lauren set it aside. She put the melting ice to her jaw and groaned. She needed a long weekend away, a hot tub, and a glass of wine. Make that a bottle of wine. And Ryder. She leaned into the ice bag in her hand. Everything was
better with Ryder. She really would track him if he didn’t come back. She’d given it a great deal of thought. Debi was right. She controlled her future. If Ryder didn’t love her, that would be one thing. Lauren sat up, dropping the ice to the floor. Did he love her? Her heart felt as mangled as her face. He hadn’t said the words since he’d returned. Not when she said it to him, not when she’d told him why she married him. Why she loved him. Would he be so worried about hurting her if he didn’t love her? No. He just bottled his emotions up like he was still on a mission. She had to believe that. He loved her, and love mattered, more than fear or danger or anything else
she’d endured the last few days. She patted her pockets, looking for her phone. Dang. She’d left it at the coffee kiosk. She picked up the office phone and dialed the kiosk extension. Beth picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Beth, it’s Professor Ryder. Did I leave my phone by the honey and other sweeteners?” “Just a sec.” The rustle of movement and a male voice before Beth came back on the line. “Yep, here it is.” “Could you hold onto it? I’ll pick it up on my way off campus.” “Sure, Professor.” “Is that Joe’s voice I hear in the background?” Beth giggled and Lauren could
almost hear the blush across the phone line. “Yes. How did you know?” “Lucky guess. Tell him I said hi.” They hung up and Lauren reached for her tea, but the bitter taste was stronger as it cooled. She set it aside and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to her desk. She was running the bottle of water across her forehead when Debi walked in. “You look rough.” “You should see the other guy.” “What happened?” “Let’s just say Smythe won’t be spending my mortgage money anytime soon.” “Oh, no way, girl. Don’t tease. I need the whole story.” “Have a seat.” Lauren gestured to
the chair across from her. “Want a water?” “No thanks. Is that a coffee?” “Tea. Not my usual brand. Want it?” Debi grabbed the cup and sat across from her. While Debi drank, Lauren told her about Earl, the bank, and the townhouse. She left out the part about Ryder nearly killing Earl. Something had shifted in his eyes; something wild had overtaken his humanity. She didn’t mind him defending her, she understood his rage, but something the Army had done to him had severed the link with his humanity. The experimental program he’d been involved in wasn’t her story to tell, not that she knew the whole story, or at least she didn’t think so.
Debi leaned back in silence once Lauren finished. “You need to call the police.” “I can’t.” She couldn’t explain Ryder’s paranoia, and after the past few days, she was starting to believe him. There was no such thing as random coincidence. “Trust me, Ryder, Rose, and Craft will make sure there’s justice.” Not the kind they wanted, but the men responsible would pay. “Is Craft still setting up shop at your kitchen table?” “He put the chili on and worked for a few hours. He bailed right before you called me, and packed the chili into the fridge.” About the same time Ryder left her
on campus. Lauren couldn’t stop the worry nipping at her heels. Was Ryder safe? She wanted to call and check in, but her phone was at the coffee kiosk. “Let’s go. I’ll pick up my phone and we can get an update.” Lauren dropped the melted bag of ice into the garbage and stood. The world spun for a minute, so she grabbed the edge of the desk. She hadn’t eaten when she got food for Caleb. Her stomach had been too pitchy, but now her blood sugar was low and she was woozy. Debi’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” “I’m a walking riddle.” “Huh?”
Lauren grabbed the sunglasses and plopped them back on. “Black and blue and red all over.” “Ha-ha. If you can make bad jokes, you must be fine. Let’s go.” Still, she held Lauren’s arm as they walked down the wide hall. Crawford’s door was closed when they passed—thank God— and made it to the small atrium at the front of the building. Beth stood behind the register with Joe off to the side. Her whole focus was on the young military man. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” Lauren asked. Joe’s smooth face flushed. “No, ma’am. Work’s over for the day.” He gestured outside where the sun was drooping towards the horizon.
Huh. She must have been relaxing in her office longer than she thought. “Beth, do you have my phone?” “Right here.” She handed it over the countertop. Debi pulled out her wallet. “Can I get a black coffee to go?” Beth glanced at Joe and her face flushed. “Uh, I kinda turned the pot off early. I can do hot tea?” “That’s fine, but not the stuff you gave her.” Debi nodded at Lauren. “That was awful.” The pink in Beth’s face burned redder than a July sunburn. “Sorry, Professor.” “That’s fine.” Lauren tried to smile, but her head spun. “We’ll just head out.
Have a good night.” The nausea she’d fought earlier came back and she barely stumbled down the three steps to street level. “Where did you park?” “Staff lot.” Debi grabbed her arm and steered her around the admin building. They made it a few steps before Joe came running up after them. “Sorry, Lauren. Beth felt bad about the tea, so she made you a chai.” He held out a cup and Lauren took it. “She didn’t have to do that.” “I might have insisted.” The juvenile blush climbed his cheeks. “I’m afraid I distracted her, and we didn’t want—uh, you know. She’s good at her job.” Lauren smiled. He was so earnest.
“We’re all allowed a few distractions.” Joe smiled in relief. “Thanks. Is this one okay?” Lauren took a sip. The cinnamon and cardamom flavored the tea to perfection. “Much better. Tell her thanks.” “I will.” He trotted off around the corner. “God, were we ever that young?” Lauren leaned against a rail and took another soothing sip of tea. “Not in a long time, my friend.” They stood outside in the windy air and watched the sunset. “I’m surprised you parked in the staff lot.” Debi stared across the campus. “He parks by the science building.”
“What about your father?” “I dare that bastard to cross my path.” “All-righty then.” Debi’s past sat like a boulder between them. Some pains didn’t ease with time. “Is that tea any good?” Debi finally asked. “Well, it’s hot.” And her throat desperately needed the soothing liquid. “Want some?” “Why not?” The sun fully settled into dark while they sat in companionable silence sharing the tea and ignoring the two-ton elephant sitting in the quad. When they straightened to head to the lot, Lauren’s head took another spin around the block.
“Are you feeling okay?” “You asked that before.” “Now you’re green, so I’m asking again.” Lauren tried to follow Debi to the parking lot, but the taste of bile gave her three seconds warning. She detoured to a grassy area and leaned against the tree as she lost her lunch. Not that she’d eaten anything since breakfast. The sunglasses on her head landed beside the contents of her stomach. Ugh. When she finished, she extended her arm for the togo cup. She took a long sip and swished it around her mouth before spitting it out. “That puts a cap on a rotten day.” “Please tell me you don’t want me to go diving for the sunglasses.”
Her stomach lurched again. “Uh-oh. They belong to Rose.” Debi laughed, the sound tinny. “Rosie can live without his badass sunglasses. Let’s get out of here.” She bumped into Debi as they walked straight through the grass, not bothering with the path. The dark lot was nearly empty as they stumbled to the little Volkswagen. Lauren’s head spun and her legs went weak. She had to lean against the side of the car to gather the energy to climb inside. Debi pulled open the door, but double stepped back as if her head was as woozy as Lauren’s. They were giggling by the time they were both belted in and ready to go. Lauren leaned back in the seat and let
her eyes drift closed until she heard retching next to her. Debi had opened the door and was throwing up onto the asphalt. Lauren opened the glove box and pulled out some napkins and handed them to her friend. When she finished cleaning up, Debi pulled the door closed. “Maybe the food I cooked for breakfast was bad? Or we’re both coming down with something.” “I wonder if the guys are sick?” The little car shook with the night wind, and that little bit of movement made Lauren’s brain dizzy. She felt fuzzy. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t a virus. She could barely keep her eyes open.
Debi tossed the napkins into a trash sack on the passenger side before reaching for the tea. Lauren reached out to stop her. “How much tea have you had?” Debi laughed. “The tea isn’t spiked with tequila. I’m sure I’m safe to drive.” “Spiked? Crap.” Lauren sniffed the tea, but could only smell the cinnamon, but remembered that the first batch had tasted bitter. What had Beth done? “Actually, I do think it was spiked.” Her words slurred. She pulled her phone out and dialed Ryder. The phone went straight to voicemail. “Do you have Rose’s number?” “Why?” Debi’s eyes narrowed, nearly drooping closed.
“I think Baby Face Joe spiked our tea.”
CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE Ryder and Rose stayed on a collision course with Fowler, hoping to intercept him before the men following caught up. If there were men. Maybe Fowler had finally lost touch with reality. Even after months off the medications, the fearlessness remained. The anger and the paranoia were there as well, dogging their steps. “Do you think there’s someone after Fowler?” “He swears it.” Headlights rushed past going the opposite direction while Craft’s headlights followed, matching their speed. “Says he picked up a tail outside of Tucson.”
“You ever start watching the rearview mirror and think a car was following too close or staying on your six too long?” “A time or two.” Rose kept his focus on the road. “Doesn’t mean we’re always wrong.” “Doesn’t mean we’re always right.” That was the problem. What was real and what was the paranoia? “Fowler’s situation sounds like Gault, and look what happened to him.” Ryder had been trying to track down the truth for months. “The official word is suicide by cop.” “Official reports can be bought.” They’d had this discussion many times in the past few days. “There are easier
ways to go out. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.” Thoughts of Lauren kept those tendencies locked tight. She kept him sane. “That’s the f*cking side effects. The doctors can’t know the effects stayed in our system or they’d never let us loose.” Ryder needed to talk to the team and find out if it was the same for everyone. Were they permanently altered? Or was there something else in play? “When we bring Fowler in, we need to talk. We all went our separate ways, dealing with this sh*t on our own. Time to end that and figure out what the hell they did to us and how long we can expect to deal with it.” “You looking for answers? Big
ones?” “I guess I am.” So far, he had limited his search to Mad Dog and Gault, but Lauren wanted a life, and to make that happen, he needed to know it was safe. He wanted to know what happened with Mad Dog. Was it the same sh*t running through his veins? Did a minor incident ignite Mad Dog’s temper, causing him to kill? Did that possibility exist in all of them? “Mad Dog said he’d lost time that day. That shouldn’t happen, not after we finished detox.” “We shouldn’t be fearless either. Or one trigger from a murderous rage. It was never intended to be a lifetime deal. Just when we were on the meds.” On the
console between them, Rose’s phone dinged with an incoming text. “Get that, would you? It might be Fowler.” “It’s from Debi. You two got something going on?” “I’ve known her all of twenty-four hours.” “That’s not a no.” Ryder opened the text, because he didn’t mind screwing with Rose. 911. On campus. Bog trouble. He read it aloud to Rose. “Does she mean big trouble?” What had the girls gotten into? Ryder pulled out his phone, noticing a missed call from Lauren. Twenty minutes ago. They must have been driving through a dead zone. He called her phone, but no answer.
Tried Debi’s, but got the same, so he opened the tracking app. Lauren’s phone was still on campus. Ryder hoped she was with it. “We need to turn around.” Rose glanced across the truck. “What about Fowler?” “I can’t be two places at once.” Ryder’s focus was split. If they didn’t get to Fowler, he might end up as dead as Gault with as little reason why, but Ryder’s intuition screamed that he needed to get to Lauren. Now. His hands shook with unspent rage. “I can’t be in two places at once, but we can. Pull over. I’ll take Craft’s truck and you two go after Fowler.” Rose pulled off at the next exit, and behind them, Craft did the same. “You
want me to let you go alone?” The censure in his voice filled the cab with tension. Live by the team. Alone was dangerous territory. “Better me than you. Go unf*ck Fowler, and then head back to El Paso. Lauren’s trouble with Smythe and the lawyer is bad, but so far, it’s been druggies and bankers. I can handle it.” They explained the situation to Craft and he handed the keys to Ryder. “Stay frosty, brother.” “Will do. Watch your fives and twenty-fives.” Without waiting for an answer, Ryder started back towards El Paso. Lauren’s phone stayed in one place. The nearer Ryder got, the more
stress tightened his neck and shoulders. His bloody hands gripped the steering wheel. They were torn and swollen from beating Earl. Nearly killing him. The anger he’d fought for so many months had finally broken through. And Lauren hadn’t run. She hadn’t been afraid of him. Her touch and her soft voice penetrated the cloud of rage that had engulfed him. He would have killed Earl, no doubt, but she pulled him back from the brink. He needed her more than she could possibly need him. Although she attracted trouble. Ryder rammed his foot on the accelerator. No telling what new development had put her in danger. The last several miles were a blur of lights against pitch black.
The time it took to get to campus filled with images of the trouble Lauren and Debi had found. He pulled onto campus where he slowed down to take in the scene. Debi’s orange VW was the only car in the staff lot. Ryder locked up the truck and circled the VW. The doors were locked and no sign of trouble. As he headed towards the admin building, his phone buzzed with a text. All clear. We ended up getting sick. Okay now. At my office. The message eased some worry, but didn’t diminish the need to see his wife. Stay put. Be there in five. The message showed that she read it, so Ryder slowed to a measured walk
as he rounded the building. Beth was still at the coffee kiosk despite the evening hours. “Awful late for coffee.” She jumped when he spoke. “Geez, you scared me. They have some conference going on upstairs. They wanted me to stay open until the last break.” Ryder glanced down the hall, but didn’t see a soul. “Would you take this to the professor?” She handed him a bottle of water, her eyes fixated on his battered hand. “Whatever hit her, hit hard.” Ryder grabbed the bottle and it cooled his hand. “Thanks.” “Here’s one for you.” Beth stared at his ruined knuckles. “You look like you
could use it.” Great. Now Lauren’s student thought he was an abuser. Ryder walked down the hall to Lauren’s office but found it empty. On the desk next to her phone was a note. BRB. Went to the bathroom to clean up. Ryder dropped onto the low sofa. They needed to talk about her situational awareness. He’d told her to keep the phone on her. And she was supposed to be in a public place. He twisted the cap from one of the water bottles and finished it in one long swallow. The frustration that had ridden him since Lauren’s missed call still bunched his muscles. He needed to find her. Ryder
stood and the ground shifted under his feet. He reached out and planted a hand on the desk, but the dizzy swirl in his head worsened. Ryder reached for his phone, but his fingers fumbled, feeling fuzzy and foggy. His brain went numb. Drugged. He tried to make it to the door, but his legs gave out the second he let go of the desk. He tumbled to the hard tile. Where was Lauren?
Lauren woke in a pool of drool on
a familiar carpet. She groaned. She was back in the freaking townhouse. Her mouth tasted like dirt. She rose and swiped the back of her hand across her lips. The overhead light was on, a small blessing, but a piece of plywood had been screwed over the window. No way to get out that way, and she was just desperate enough to try to jump sixteen feet to the ground. Debi was still out cold. How long had they been here? With the window blocked, Lauren had no sense of time. Across the room, Earl was still on the floor where they’d left him. How bad had Ryder hurt him? She checked Debi’s pulse, which beat weakly, and then she crawled to Earl. His face was mottled,
the way they’d left him, but several small holes had bled through the back of his head. Someone had shot him multiple times. Lauren retched, but there was nothing left for her to lose. Dry heaves hurt her gut and her chest and every muscle in her upper body. Earl had been alive when they left. Someone had come behind them and taken him out. The closet’s bi-fold doors were closed, but Smythe’s body was still there. Nothing about their situation was good. Ryder was on a mission too far away to be of help, and she didn’t have her phone, so he couldn’t track her. She had no idea how much time they’d been out, but any amount of time was too long. Everything
in Lauren hurt, but she didn’t have time to wallow in her fears. They needed out of there, and Earl had a key. Lauren gagged as she dug through his suit pockets. His body was already cold. A shiver turned her skin to ice, but she kept on until she looked through all his pockets. Empty. Lauren sat back on her rump and hugged her knees to her chest. Life was beyond messed up. She couldn’t believe she was back in this god-awful hellhole that had once been her home. “Your resting bitch face is pretty scary,” Debi croaked. She sat up and leaned her back against the wall. “What happened?” Lauren crawled to sit next to Debi.
“Joe spiked our tea.” She didn’t want to believe Beth knew. God, what had the girl gotten involved in? “That much I remember. I’m still a little fuzzy on why.” So was Lauren. “I don’t think this has anything to do with the townhouse scam.” “Then why are we here?” Joe unlocked the door and stepped through. “You’re here to draw Staff Sergeant Ryder back to the scene of the crime.” “What crime?” “The murder of his wife.” Baby Face Joe sneered. His face wasn’t so babyish anymore. It bordered on insanity. “Your best friend is collateral
damage.” “No. She doesn’t know anything.” “She knows more than you think.” Lauren stood, her legs wobbly underneath her. Debi looked at her like she’d lost her ever-loving mind, which she probably had, but Lauren wasn’t lying down and letting Baby Face and his friends destroy her. The times they’d come into the bar had been a setup to get to Ryder. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Ryder would come for her. She just needed to stay alive long enough for him to find her. “My husband’s going to kill you.” “No, actually, he’s going to kill you. All the bumps and bruises from the last few days will only add to the proof
against him. Add in the dead bodies and it’ll look like your husband has been very busy since he’s been home. Psychotic break.” She wanted to say no one would believe it, but Beth could testify to the bruises on her face. “How did you get Beth to help you?” The college girl had to have known there were drugs in the tea. She’d been the only one there when Lauren got the first cup. “She thinks she’s helping her favorite college professor escape an abusive husband. My buddies and I, we’re just staging an intervention. We stash you somewhere safe while we have a discussion with your husband, curing him of the abuse. Sadly, he
escapes and takes you with him. Big f*cking tragedy.” Baby Face had planted the suggestion that Ryder was responsible. People would believe the story—look how many times she’d crossed campus wearing bruises—and her death would go down as one more PTSD catastrophe. “You suck.” He grinned, showing the evil she hadn’t noticed before. He was cold, shallow, and lacking any human empathy. This was what their science experiment created. “You’re one of them. Team Echo?” The team Ryder thought was dead. “Your husband spilled his guts? I’m surprised.”
“They killed you.” “Why would they kill their only successful experiment? We’re eliminating the remainders.” Lauren’s pulse did that thing where she was pretty sure her heart was ready to stop. “You’ve got that wrong, cupcake. You will die by his hand.” Lauren tucked her head and rammed Joe’s midsection. He didn’t fold, but anger lit a fire in his eyes. Pure evil. She twisted her hands around his midsection and tried to slam him into the door. They struggled, and he pushed her off him. Rage lit his face as he backhanded her across the room with his left hand. Lauren’s head hit the wall and she dropped to the ground like a dead body.
The room blurred for a moment, but she blinked it away, certain if she lost consciousness, her chances of survival were slim to none. Debi helped her sit. “Shut. Up.” Her words hissed into Lauren’s ear. Lauren wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and felt a new split in her swelling lip. “Putting bruises on me is a fatal mistake. You’ve never seen him angry.” “He won’t know what’s real or which demon is hunting him.” Baby Face smiled. “I gave him a little dose of his old medicine. Added in some alcohol. You really shouldn’t mix the two.” “But I’ve seen you drink. You and your buddies.”
“We don’t mind the side effects, especially when they let us out to play.” Fear threatened to strangle her. “You’re sick.” “That’s what they pay me for.” He slammed the door closed and locked it before Lauren could think of a reply. Debi offered a hand to lift Lauren to her feet. “Quit antagonizing the crazy man.” Lauren smiled, but pain turned it to a grimace. “Sorry. Being around Ryder makes me feel like a badass.” “I’m sorry to break it to you, my friend, but he’s the one with the six-pack abs.” “Whatever. He taught me a few things.” Lauren uncurled her fist to
reveal the key she stole from Baby Face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Excruciating pain stabbed Ryder in the temple, waking him from near death. Or was death the only way out of the f*cking agony? Cramps twisted his gut and spasms twitched through his muscles. Sweat coated his skin. He hadn’t felt like this since they’d had to strap him down during detox. Rising to his hands and knees, he shook his head to clear the fuzz from his brain. A jolt of electricity snapped down his spine, bringing misery instead of relief. He blinked until the darkness around him cleared. Lauren’s office. Why was he in her office? What time was it? Ryder leaned back on his
haunches and waited for the room to stop spinning. When the world righted itself, he focused on the clock behind her desk. Two o’clock. Middle of the night based on the lack of light coming through the windows and the lack of noise in the hall. Using the desk, Ryder pulled himself to his feet. Lauren. He had to find Lauren. So many nights he’d wondered where she was, who she was with, but that wasn’t it. This time, something in his brain struggled through the fog. Last thing he remembered, he’d been in the truck with Rose. A brain freeze pierced his skull as he rifled through his memories. What the hell? The last time he saw Rose was hours
ago. The text. He squinted to bring the memories into focus. A text had come through. Big trouble. Light from the clock was burning a f*cking hole in his eyes. Stay frosty, Craft had told him, but Ryder hadn’t. Had he? If he’d been alert, he wouldn’t have woken up on the floor of Lauren’s office eight hours later with no f*cking clue what had happened. Just like Mad Dog. Fear slammed through him, the adrenaline making his limbs quake. What had happened in his missing time? He lifted his hands, twisted them to get a better look. Torn skin along the knuckles, but no blood. The memory of Madigan, twisting his hands and staring like they
weren’t attached to him, bloody as f*ck. They’re my life. Ryder closed his eyes. What had he done?
Debi found a phone on Smythe’s dead body. They’d had to unroll him from the plastic and his body was stiff, almost like a mannequin. When they finished, Lauren had made Debi look. Filing through the pockets of a dead man once today was plenty. It was Debi’s turn. Debi pushed the power button, but
nothing happened. Dead freaking battery. Desperation brought tears to her eyes. They had the key, but they didn’t know who or what was outside the door. “Do you think we can sneak past Joe?” “Depends. Who is with him?” “There were four soldiers at the bar that night. Joe, some guy named Hedrick, and the other two. Same size.” “So walking mountains. Great news.” “There might be more than four.” If she was right, if Joe was from the supposedly defunct Team Echo, then there were twelve men in total. Some of the men might be after Fowler. Lauren wished she’d paid better attention, but all she’d been able to think about was
Ryder leaving. “And where’s Ryder? Fowler was only a few hours out. They should be here by now.” It felt like hours since they’d woken. Joe hadn’t come back to visit, which was probably a good thing. “Ryder doesn’t have a way to find us.” He’d put a tracker app on her phone and Debi’s, but the phones were nowhere to be found. “Joe is certain he’ll come here.” Disoriented. What had they done to Ryder? She glanced at the locked door. “We need to try, before they decide to kill us.” The neighbor’s house was silent, but if they could sneak out and head next door, they could call the cops. Like it or
not, they needed help. If they lived, Ryder could get mad at her for involving the police. She outlined a plan for Debi. They didn’t have much choice. Staying was a death sentence. They turned out the light to let their eyes adjust to the dark and a wave of panic washed over her. The dead bodies in the room were threatening in the dark. When her heart couldn’t take anymore delay, Lauren slid the key into the lock. All the upstairs doors were closed and Lauren was too terrified to look inside. Dead bodies were one thing, but what if they walked in on Joe and his crew? Debi’s heavy breath panted behind her. Lauren slipped down the hallway like a shadow. At the landing, there were
no lights shining from the open floor plan below. Was Joe asleep somewhere or waiting for them? Where was the rest of his group? Debi dug her fingers into Lauren’s arm where Miranda’s nails had already left their mark. Together, they tiptoed down the dark stairs. They made it without tripping and Lauren peered around the corner. The light from the microwave lit the space, but there were no human inhabitants in the lab that used to be her living room and kitchen. She skirted past a table, half afraid Joe would grab her from underneath, but they made it to the front door without meeting another soul. Terrifying anticipation shook her body.
Debi pulled her back to whisper in her ear. “Do you think he’s sleeping upstairs?” Lauren shrugged. She was confused, and the farther they got without running into people, the more her nerves stretched taut. The air in her lungs burned as fear flowed in and out with each breath closer to freedom. Debi stepped forward and turned the knob when Lauren hesitated. She held her breath, but no one was waiting outside the door. No guards? Did they really just think that Ryder would find her and kill her? Surely they weren’t that stupid. They stood in the entryway, half in and half out of the townhouse. “Can we make it to help without waking the
neighbor?” Maybe they didn’t have to call the cops. Debi shook her head emphatically. “Help. Now.” Holding hands, they ran through the shadows to the neighbor’s door. With a furtive glance back at her house and the dark parking lot, Lauren reached out to pound on the neighbor’s door. Within seconds, Callahan pulled open the door. He was wearing boxers and nothing else. His chest was cut muscle and wide as the door. He rubbed his eyes as if to wipe away the sleep. “This is a surprise.” “Can we come in?” Debi pushed through without waiting for an answer. Lauren followed until Debi stopped.
Lauren stumbled into her, and then looked past. There sat Joe and his buddies playing poker. “Well, well, well. You’re more resourceful than I thought.” Lauren backed away, but Callahan blocked the exit. He pulled a phone from the table in the entry. “Let’s head back to your place so you can call your husband, Mrs. Ryder. Let him know where you are.”
As Ryder hung up the phone, the
beast roared, shattering the last tether to sanity. A voice he didn’t recognize had interrupted Lauren’s call. He heard her bark of pain before they’d taken the phone away. Ryder’s vision swam with drugs and rage and fear. He jumped the steps leading away from the administration building and went straight for the truck. Someone was dying tonight.
“Why don’t you just kill us?” Beside her, Debi smacked her arm.
“Shut. Up.” “What? I’m trying to figure out how these mental geniuses think.” They were waiting in the living room of her former house, on the floor surrounded by five sociopaths. Or was it psychopaths? Either way, not a good place to be. At least they weren’t with the dead bodies, although that might be preferable to being surrounded by five bad guys the size of weightlifters. Why hadn’t she noticed their height? Their build? They’d seemed so innocuous when flirting with the college girls, but trapped between them, they gave off an air of menace that kept her head spinning. If Ryder didn’t show up soon, they wouldn’t have to kill her. She’d
have a heart attack. “We discussed it” Hedrick answered. Away from the bar and the music and the girls, he oozed crazy. A shiver flashed under her skin as she recalled his big hand gripped around her arm. “But we didn’t know how long he’d be out.” “You drugged him?” Panic lifted her voice. Ryder had said it wasn’t safe to mix drugs or alcohol with the medical co*cktail they’d already endured. “Couldn’t have him thinking clearly.” Joe smirked. He’d stationed himself at the door as a glorified sentry. “And we can’t have your time of death too far off from your husband’s apparent suicide. Makes people ask
questions.” “He’s not that easy to kill.” Joe grinned, the evil coming off him like stink on a feedlot in the middle of the summer. He lifted a section of blind to glance out at the front walkway. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” “What did you do?” “We may not be mental geniuses,” Callahan answered. “But we have a solid plan. Your husband isn’t thinking clearly, and he’s got enough drugs in his system to f*ck with his concentration. Don’t count on him for help.” But she was, absolutely, counting on Ryder to make it back to her. The days of doubting him, of expecting him to abandon her were over. He’d protect
her. Absolutely. “I’m going to enjoy watching him pull you limb from limb.” “Got news for you.” Joe flipped the blinds back into place. “You don’t have to wait.” Hedrick pulled out a handgun. “Time for the show.” Debi pulled Lauren close to the wall nearest the stairs. Boy, did Lauren understand the need for a wall at your back. She’d never sit in the middle of any room again. Assuming she lived. When her butt hit the sheetrock, Lauren closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. Please don’t let him be alone. Ryder walked in alone. Black jeans, black shirt, black boots. He entered with his hands out in a manner
only a fool would consider submissive. “Baby, you okay?” A knot blocked her throat, so she had to force the words. “Sure, the usual. Dead bodies. Kidnapping.” “What happened to your face?” She dabbed at the tender spot on her cheek. The newest injury didn’t hurt too bad, considering. She glanced at Joe as he shut and bolted the door. At the movement of her gaze, Ryder flipped around. He was on Joe, pummeling his face. He got in three good shots before two soldiers pulled him off. Ryder stumbled from their grasp. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. Up close, she saw sweat on his forehead and damp spots under his arms
and in a band around his neck. He looked liked he’d been sitting in a steam room. His eyes held a faraway look that didn’t bode well. Joe wiped a streak of blood off his lip. “Where are your buddies?” Callahan asked. “You’re the one surprise here.” Ryder pointed his thumb at the house next door, but his arm shook at the slight movement. “You were in the house before we moved in here.” “Recon. We planned to take you out the same week you pulled the disappearing act.” “You watched me.” All the times the neighbor had checked on her, Lauren
had thought he was just a nice guy. “I knew your husband would be back. Just a matter of time.” Yet Lauren had doubted Ryder every minute of every day. She’d written him off rather than trying to understand. She’d been too wrapped up in her own fears, so afraid of losing her husband, she didn’t see his absolute commitment to her. Lauren wanted to go to Ryder, to apologize before it was too late. He’d probably saved both of their lives by leaving when he had. They hadn’t had any clue the danger they were living in. She grabbed Debi’s hand and pulled her close. They needed to be ready when the sh*t hit the fan, because no way did Ryder walk into an ambush
without a plan. He didn’t mind dying, but he wouldn’t leave her hanging. The feeling was mutual. She couldn’t allow him to sacrifice himself. Ryder might not be afraid, but she was terrified of a life without him. Joe shoved Ryder from the back, pushing him deeper into the room. “Answer the f*cking question. Where are your teammates?” Ryder stumbled and landed on his knees. He put a hand to his temple. “They’re halfway to Tucson.” They were alone? “Oh, Ryder.” She nearly cried. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. “Sometimes you have to handle sh*t on your own, baby.” He moved closer,
placing his body between Lauren and the soldiers. He frowned at Joe. “But you know my team isn’t around. This was a two-prong operation. You guys here and another team following Fowler, dividing my men.” Joe and Hedrick did a quick fist bump, confirming Ryder’s supposition and destroying Lauren’s hope. Alone and unarmed. She inched closer, hoping— Callahan shoved her against the wall. Ryder moved just as swiftly, tackling Callahan to the ground. “No one gets between me and my wife.” He struck Callahan in the sternum, the same move that had incapacitated Earl, but Callahan struck back. This time, it took three men to pull Ryder off, but they
didn’t kill him. Why? Lauren sidestepped away from the fight, closer to the stairs. The sixteen feet from windowsill to ground didn’t seem as insurmountable as their odds here in the house. They lifted Ryder off and he shook his head as if he were trying to clear it. He let loose a sarcastic grin. “You five really think you can take me?” His words slurred. Dear God, what had they done? He couldn’t even stand straight without one of the soldiers holding him upright. One of the soldiers she remembered from the bar blocked her path. He had the same dead eyes as the others, one shadowed with a bruise. “We don’t have to subdue
you.” He put a gun to her head. “You f*ck up again, and she takes the bullet that much sooner. She just has to die before you. The how is open for interpretation.” Great. Lauren swallowed. Ryder’s eyes filled with rage, the same look before he’d beaten Earl. When his eyes panned the room, there was no recognition in his eyes. No humanity. True fear filled her. Ryder wasn’t himself. She was no longer sure he could defend himself, let alone save her. “You have to wait for a confirmation call from the men following Fowler. You’re not the ones calling the shots.” The men didn’t answer. Nervous energy filled the house, mostly off her
and Debi. The men—all of them— seemed impervious to emotion. There was an aura of cool resolve around the lot of them. “Upstairs,” the soldier ordered. Lauren didn’t move too fast to get to the stairs. Once they setup the murdersuicide scene, she was pretty sure it was over. She looked at Ryder, but his face remained a mask. They climbed the stairs surrounded by assholes carrying weapons. Joe took the lead, then Lauren and Debi followed by the dead-eyed soldier who held a gun on her. Ryder was behind him with Callahan and Hedrick in the rear. The final soldier stayed to guard the door. There were five of them to one of Ryder, and he
wasn’t operating on all cylinders. Halfway up the stairs, he stumbled into the wall and dropped to his knees. He shook his head like he was having a hard time seeing straight. Dead Eyes stopped to lift Ryder to his feet. Lauren finished climbing the stairs, her heart convulsing. They were climbing to their execution, and Ryder was walking like a drugged-out fool. Joe pushed open the master bedroom door, revealing a macabre scene. The room looked like a maniac had trashed it. Crazy red graffiti on the wall, holes in the sheetrock, black plastic over the sliding glass door. There was a pallet on the floor and drug needles and paraphernalia next to it. Lauren tried to
back out, but Dead Eyes pushed her from behind. Ryder roared. He shoved Dead Eyes into the doorframe, blocking the entry. A gun went flying. Joe turned, but before he could react, someone tackled him to the ground. Lauren fell to the carpet. Rose plowed into Debi, moving her out of the path and into a closet. The fight from the hall spilled into the room. Ryder pummeled Dead Eyes, and then turned to Baby Face like he couldn’t stay focused. A war waged around her, the sounds of bones breaking and grunts of pain. Each groan cut a hole in her lungs so she could barely breathe. Rose intercepted Dead Eyes, literally protecting Ryder’s back,
because her husband wasn’t focused. He slammed Baby Face across the room, but Joe didn’t go down easy. He took the beating with a grin before shoving Ryder off. Ryder wiped sweat from his eyes, and in that pause, that moment, Joe yanked Lauren up and shoved a knife at her throat. Ryder blocked, the knife cutting into his hand. Blood spewed, but Ryder didn’t blink. His bloodshot eyes threatened death, but Lauren wasn’t sure if he even knew who the target was. He’d lose his hand if he wasn’t careful, but he didn’t back down. Lauren stomped a boot into Joe’s instep at the same time her fist slammed into the young man’s groin. Joe’s grip loosened enough for Lauren to break
free. In a flurry of movement, Ryder grabbed Joe’s knife hand. Bones crunched before Joe relinquished his hold. He kicked, but Ryder came at him like a crazy man, impervious to the hits and kicks the other soldier landed. He swung forward with the knife, making minor cuts in Joe’s skin. Finally, Ryder hit the other man in the sternum, this time with the knife. Flesh oozed blood. Bones crushed. Joe crashed to the ground like a felled tree. Ryder followed him to the ground. He pulled the knife free and sliced open Joe’s neck. Spurts of blood hit Ryder in the face, but he continued to slice even as the life left Joe’s eyes, until he’d severed the head from the
body. “Ryder?” Blood covered him. The wound on his hand dripped and the serrated knife looked like something from a horror movie. Lauren swallowed. “Are you okay?” He turned to her, his eyes filled with the craziness he’d feared. No recognition crossed his features. He rose to his feet and fled the room. Lauren’s brain was scrambled from the sudden attack and her body seemed to move in slow motion. She crawled to the closet and tried to open it. “Debi?” she croaked. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She needed to get to Ryder. The man was warrior strong, but they had altered him with drugs until he couldn’t
think straight. He’d die for her, but she couldn’t live with that outcome. Her breath sounded like she’d just run twenty miles and her chest ached. The house went silent, and somehow, the silence was more haunting than the sounds of brawling. “We need to get downstairs. I have to know.” Debi squeezed her hand, and then let go. “This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” They turned to the mostly empty room. Mostly, except for Joe on the floor with his head separated from his body and Dead Eyes crumpled in the doorway. His eyes were definitely dead now. Lauren crawled across the room and picked up a discarded gun. Not a
single shot had been fired, but where was Ryder?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE They passed two dead bodies on the way down the stairs. Lauren averted her eyes like she would when driving past road kill. She’d been up close and personal with too many dead bodies in the last twenty-four hours. The pulse pounding in her head sounded loud, so she couldn’t hear beyond it. Sweat slicked the fingers gripping the gun. Carrying it gave her a sense of security, but she’d feel better when she found Ryder. Debi followed, her hand on Lauren’s back like when they’d gone through a haunted house. Like touch was a lifeline. Leading with the gun, Lauren
turned to see an empty living room. Anticipating violence, she stiffened, her arms taut and the muscles along her back pulling painfully tight. The emptiness and the harsh rasp of her breath pushed her blood pressure into heart-attack territory. A man rushed through the door, and Lauren swung the gun to aim at center mass, just as Ryder had taught her, although she didn’t have his steady hands. “Don’t move.” Tremors in her forearms stole the force from her threat, but she’d pull the trigger if he took a step towards them. They hadn’t survived all this to go down a few feet from the front door. Ryder walked in the room and past
the other man, his gaze assessing, and then he stepped closer to her. He put his bloody hand over hers and forced the barrel down. “This is Fowler. He’s one of the good guys.” “Oh.” Lauren relinquished the gun. “What happened to handling sh*t on your own?” Ryder snapped the safety in place before tucking the gun behind his back and pulling the t-shirt over it. “Sometimes, you need help from a friend.” “The guard vanished.” Rose pushed through the entrance. Craft came through and smacked Ryder on the back with a hearty clap. Ryder flinched. “Watch it. I have the
worst f*cking headache.” “Disoriented?” Rose turned and pulled Ryder’s eyelids up. “f*ck.” Ryder backed away. “I’m seeing fifteen of you, man. Give me a f*cking break.” “Fowler, close the door. Craft get me some light.” The men followed orders, and when the light came on, Ryder shielded his eyes. “Jesus, are you trying to give me an aneurism?” Rose flashed a penlight in Ryder’s eyes. “Pupils are dilated, pulse rapid, breathing erratic.” Ryder pushed Rose away and walked to flip off the overhead light. “They dosed me, put something in a
bottle of water. I woke up disoriented. Lost time, serious time, couldn’t remember sh*t.” His eyes fairly glowed with anger. “I was coming here, unarmed and without backup. I couldn’t think straight.” He paced like a caged animal. “If you hadn’t intercepted me, I would have—” He glanced at her, and then away. “How did you find me?” “That was Lauren’s idea.” Craft winked at her from across the room. “You put a tracker on his phone?” Lauren’s body shook so she could barely stand. The adrenaline letdown was a bitch. She leaned against Debi. “Seriously?” “Sure, I added the same app he had on your phone. Thought I’d use it to
screw with him, but when he didn’t respond after our near-death experience on the highway, we used it to track his ass. Stopped him a mile from here.” Craft shook his head at Ryder. “Brother, you fell off the crazy train.” “Adrenaline overload had me shaking like a junkie. Hallucinations. Then the panic hit.” He rubbed his chest, smearing blood on his shirt. “Thought I’d have a coronary. What the hell did you give me?” Rose followed Ryder across the room and checked his pulse. “Beta blocker, but it’s a short-term fix. We need to isolate you until the drugs fully clear your blood. I wish I knew what they gave you.”
“I do.” Four pissed-off soldiers snapped laser focus in her direction. Lauren cleared her throat. “Would you do something about his hand?” “Right after you tell me what they gave him,” Rose answered. “Um, you know this wasn’t random, right? Those five guys were Team Echo.” Across the room, Fowler started cursing like a sailor. When he finished he looked at Ryder. “Training accident my ass. The company cut us loose and then sent those psychotic bastards after us.” “Joe said that they were the successful test, and the rest of the teams were failures. He, uh—” Lauren bit her
lip. “They gave you a medical co*cktail, he said, using… I don’t know what to call it, but the meds they used to make you fearless plus alcohol. God knows what else.” Debi gasped, her response lost as the men started talking at once. Rose spoke above the noise. “We need to strap your ass down for detox until your blood is clean.” He ripped a strip from Ryder’s t-shirt and wrapped it around the hand. “Afraid I’m ate up?” Ryder applied pressure to the wound. “I think they dosed you with the same crap they gave Madigan, which explains his symptoms. Disorientation, fear, headache, the shakes. He was
detached and paranoid, and it wasn’t residual side effects like we originally believed. f*ckers gave him a nudge and he killed his wife before he knew who she was. Hell, probably before he knew who he was.” Ryder’s gaze shot to Lauren, and then froze as if a shield fell in place. “Not a chance.” Unsteady, Lauren disengaged from Debi and wound around the lab equipment to Ryder. He shook his head and backed into the wall, but Lauren wasn’t backing off. She wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest. The uncertain heartbeat was rapid beneath her cheek. “You would never hurt me.” He stiffened and forced his arms
rigidly at his side. “We don’t know that, baby.” “To the pit of my soul, I know you’d never hurt me. Besides, Joe said they planned to kill me and frame you. The plan was never for you to do the deed.” She glanced up at his strong jaw. “You came in here like a force of nature and stood between me and danger like you were the last line of defense. That’s not the attitude of a madman.” “Actually, it was crazy as hell,” Fowler corrected. “But it gave us time to climb in through an upper window and get into position.” Ryder scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away sweat. “We need to clear the scene. The soldier standing
guard took off, did a good job of evading us, but they’re only one small part of the team. The rest could be close.” Lauren tucked herself into Ryder’s side, even if he didn’t hug her back. “We can’t leave this here. Not just the drug lab, but the bodies. Six bodies. In our house.” It was incomprehensible. “She’s right. We need to wipe this place down, clear away the evidence, and it would be a damn good thing if we did that before sunrise.” Rose glanced at his watch. “In thirty-seven minutes.” The guys looked around with the same hang dog expression. Clearing the scene of evidence seemed insurmountable. Ryder’s blood was all the hell over the place. Lauren looked
around, but instead of seeing the picket fence dreams from when they first bought, she saw dead bodies, a drug lab, and the six months without Ryder. “I have another idea. Why don’t you just blow it up like you did the meth house? Fewer questions that way.” “Because this is your house,” Craft said. Rose nodded in agreement. “We don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart, and blowing up your house is permanent.” There would be no reclaiming the dreams they’d spent on the place, but Lauren was starting to see that she’d held back. She’d dreamed, but not big enough. She hadn’t embraced Ryder fully. He was a part of a team, but in all
the time they were together, they never went out with the team or had them over. She’d been too afraid to share Ryder with the men who were so obviously his brothers. They were such an integral part of his life that she always figured he’d choose them over her. Ryder finally placed an arm over her shoulder. “We’ll find another way.” “It’s not the house.” The weight of his arm soothed the tremors and warmed the chill off her skin. “We never had you over,” she said to no one in particular. “Never had a barbeque.” Never extended the hospitality Texans were known for. She’d failed Ryder just as much as he’d failed her when he left. Selfish little heifer, she’d wanted to
keep him to herself rather than join into the family he already had in his teammates. “We’re here now,” Rose said. “Where are the beer and brats?” “You can’t drink beer.” “True, but I’m a meat eater, so anytime you want to cook, sweetheart, I’m there.” Lauren smiled. The house was four walls and a roof, just as Ryder had said. She could find that anywhere, but an empty house wouldn’t mean a thing unless Ryder was by her side. He was the only home she needed. She turned to Rose with a shaky smile. “How about now?” “For the barbeque? Not much food
in the fridge.” “Well, at least we could have the fire.” Lauren warmed to her sudden inspiration. “Light it up.” “The grill?” “No. The house. Light it up.” For a moment, no one moved, and then next to her, Rose rubbed his hands together. “Burn, baby, burn.” He retrieved supplies from his truck. The team set the charges through the house, promising the blast would only take out their house and part of Callahan’s. No one else would be injured, but the evidence would be destroyed. The police would link the explosion to the meth lab supplies in the kitchen. They retreated to the trucks in less time than
Lauren thought possible. Full dark was fading, but the sun had yet to rise. They pulled out single file, slow as though the world wasn’t changing. The explosion sounded before they made the turn out of the park lot. Debris flew. Flames burst through the roof. Unexpected tears stung her eyes. She had put so much hope into that dead building. In the seat next to her, Ryder scrubbed his uninjured hand along her shoulders. “You okay?” Tremors still shook her system. Lauren turned away from the flaming building. She curled into Ryder, tucking her head under his chin. “Everything hurts.” Ryder squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll
feel better tomorrow.” “Promise?” “What more could possibly go wrong?”
Ryder woke desperate to see Lauren, to know she was safe, but Rose wouldn’t give him clearance until he’d proven he was of sound mind. “Good luck with that.” He sat at the edge of a doughy mattress while Rose took his vitals. “You were out for three days. Had
to strap you down at one point. Sucked to watch. Last time during the detox, we were all in the same pyre.” Ryder didn’t remember much after leaving the townhouse. Rose clicked off the penlight and returned it to the first aid kit. “Remember the look on Madigan’s face before he pulled the trigger?” Ryder scrubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. “Hard to forget.” “That look was in your eyes the other night.” Rose focused on organizing and reorganizing the kit, shifting boxes and bandages around before zipping it closed. The whole time, he didn’t meet Ryder’s gaze. “While you were detoxing, we were able to positively ID
the soldiers from the townhouse. They’re all on the KIA list from Kandahar. Fowler identified two of the men following him. Definitely Team Echo. Definitely tracking us.” Ryder twisted his neck until a knot popped, and then he simply stared at the water-stained ceiling. “Where are we?” “Some crap motel in BFE Texas. The ranch isn’t safe at this point. The team after Fowler made an escape because we had to get back here and save your ass.” It sucked to eat crow. “Thanks for that.” “Did it hurt to say?” “f*ck you.” The weight of their situation pressed on Ryder’s chest until
he felt dizzy with lack of oxygen. “The women locked down?” “Yeah, but I don’t think they understand the ramifications of the situation.” “Neither do we.” Ryder forced a deep breath until the panic that threatened had ebbed. For six months, Ryder had surreptitiously watched his teammates fall apart. He hadn’t found a way to protect them from the sh*t that followed them from Afghanistan. Fact was, he couldn’t. Not alone. “The company found a way to trigger a psychotic episode, using the crap they loaded us with and some unknown substance. I’m still not one hundred percent. Still feel the edge of panic.” He
rubbed under his chest where his heart pounded. “It’s like an overdose causes the opposite effect. Too much fear. I couldn’t think straight or see straight. Shaking like a damn junkie and my heart felt ready to explode. If you hadn’t shown up…” Ryder couldn’t finish that sentence. “We have to assume they dosed Madigan and Gault both.” “Madigan killed his wife, while Gault left the house loaded for bear and landed in a shootout with police.” “Suicide by cop.” “I never believed that sh*t. Gault was the most levelheaded of all of us.” Rose scrubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes. “If we hadn’t shown up, do you think you could have killed Lauren?”
Fear manacled his throat, so when he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “No.” “Is that what you want to believe or what you know.” There was no easy answer to that question. Lauren refused to believe he’d hurt her, but he had been seeing all kinds of crazy images in his head. When Ryder didn’t answer, Rose cursed. “Jesus, Ry, we can’t go home. Ever. Hell, I’m not even sure we should be allowed to live.” “Bag that.” Lauren kept him sane. She’d reached him when he’d become a monster. She didn’t back down, but more to the point, he hadn’t attacked her. Everything in his body went caveman
protective over his woman. “I wouldn’t hurt Lauren. I’d end myself first.” Rose simply hung his head low. Ryder stood and shoved Rose across the room. “Quit buying into their mindf*ck.” “We’re medical misfits. Medically unfit, just like the discharge papers say,” Rose shouted back, anger in every syllable. The air around him vibrated with rage. He took a deep breath and continued in measured tones. “Sure, it was the company’s fault, but we volunteered. The side effects never stopped. The fearlessness didn’t stop. With or without the drugs, we are still a danger to ourselves and others.” “Only if they give us whatever the f*ck they gave me.” After seeing Mad
Dog’s crazy eyes, Ryder had believed himself a monster. Trained by the Amy, enhanced by medical experimentation, and tested in war. He’d been afraid—the f*cking irony—that he’d destroy Lauren when in fact she had saved him. His body shivered at the memory of her hand on him when he’d nearly killed Earl. When he’d nearly lost his humanity. “We’re not safe. Our families aren’t safe. Callahan was watching Lauren when I was nowhere around. She wasn’t safer without me. At some point, if I hadn’t come home, they’d have used her for leverage. What would you do if they went after your sisters?” A muscle twitched under Rose’s left eye. You could almost see the
thoughts flipping through his brain. “Guess I don’t have the luxury of losing it today.” Rose paced the musty brown carpet for several minutes. “The only way to stop them is to figure out who they are. What they want.” “Now you’re talking.” Ryder clapped Rose on the shoulder. All these months, he’d tried to carry the load on his own. They worked better as a team. “See if Craft can rig a secure video conference with the rest of the team, and —” Lauren walked inside and held a keycard like a security badge. Rose straightened to his full six foot six. “You stole my key?” An innocent smile lifted her lips. “I
need to talk to my husband and you said no.” “Sweetheart, I’ve got my eyes on you.” Lauren swallowed, her throat flexing around a large lump. Instead of a reply, she went to Rose and wrapped her arms around the big man’s waist. “Thank you for coming the other night.” “We’re a team, sweetheart, so I will be there every time.” Rose gave her a gentle pat before setting her away from him. He turned back to Ryder. “Fowler and I will make a food run.” Ryder glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “Briefing at eighteen hundred local.” Rose gave a mock salute before
heading out, the DO NOT DISTURB sign flapping as the door slammed closed. Ryder’s blood pressure skyrocketed. He hadn’t seen her since the night he’d gone crazy. The day in the barn, he’d given her a choice, but with the drugs still screwing with his mind, he didn’t know which way she’d go. The adrenaline pumping through his system was true fear. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “Give me a few minutes to clean up.” Lauren sidestepped into his path on the way to the shower. “I won’t let you avoid me.” “Would I do that?” “In a heartbeat,” she said, mimicking his words from the other day.
The hand she placed on his chest stilled him, but inside, his heart threatened to burst through his chest wall. The ground shifted underfoot and his stomach twisted like the day he’d lost most of his Special Forces team. The clusterf*ck that led him to agree join Team Fear. “I said it was your choice, I know I did, but —” “Stop.” She caressed his chest until her hand landed over his left pec. The ka-thunk of his uncertain heart pounded against her palm. “What are you afraid of?” “I—” The list was too f*cking long. “Finish. The sentence.” “I hope this fear sh*t wears off soon.”
Her faint smile didn’t reach her sad eyes. “That wasn’t what you were going to say.” “When they had you, when I got that call, fear coated my tongue and cheeks and throat.” The memory of it wouldn’t fade. “How is that possible?” “We don’t know, but we need to find out. Team Echo is out there. The company wants us gone. There’s no telling how my body will react to the dosing. I don’t know if it will fade or make me a volatile madman.” “You weren’t a madman.” “You saw me. I was a lunatic.” “And you walked away. You didn’t hurt me.”
He put his hand over her cold fingers, over his heart, and made a vow. “I will protect you.” “Oh, baby, I know.” The way she used his term of endearment settled the erratic emotions beating through Ryder’s blood. Her very presence soothed the wildness. Tears glistened in her eyes. She tucked herself into him, burrowed into his soul as her head tucked under his chin. “What are you afraid of?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Her words echoed. He was supposed to be fearless, and the assholes on Team Echo hadn’t done him any favors by dosing him with something that brought the fear alive. Losing Lauren, that was the ultimate fear. “The choice is yours, I promised to abide by your decision, but your answer—” He coughed against the lump clogging his throat. “I’m afraid you’ll go.” He wrapped his arms around her slender frame, careful not to break her. “Afraid you’ll stay.” Tears wet his t-shirt under the face hidden in her hair. “What does that even mean?”
“What if they hurt you to get to me? What if I hurt you because of something they did to me?” He couldn’t live with either. “If I’m with you, they won’t get near me. That’s a fact. I don’t care what kind of training they’ve had. You’re fierce. And there is no way you would hurt me. Everything you’ve done since you’ve been back has been about protecting me. It’s ingrained in your DNA. No one could make it past your defenses. Not even you.” “I wish I could be sure.” “I can be sure enough for both of us. For six months, I lived without you. I won’t do it again. You’re mine.” His heart shifted, moving back
where it belonged, and the world stopped shifting under his feet. Lauren centered him, and she was right. He’d do anything to protect her, even face his creators. “I love you.” For a moment, she froze, and then she wiped her wet cheek against his shirt. “It’s about damned time.” Ryder leaned back and tilted her chin. “What does that mean?” Puffy, red-rimmed eyes met his gaze. “You haven’t said it since you’ve been back.” She wiped the moisture from her face. “I wondered if what they did inhibited all emotion until you didn’t —” A hiccup interrupted her words. “Until you couldn’t love me anymore.” She levered up to press her lips softly
against his. “I needed to hear those words from you, more than I knew.” He hadn’t wanted to give the words, because love was a promise, one he wasn’t sure he could freely give, but for Lauren, he’d try. “You know what I want more than anything right now?” A saucy grin sparked in her eyes. “Me?” He shook his head no. “Three square meals and a roof over my head.” “Really? I hear prison is lovely this time of year.” “There are worse things than prison.” Although he hoped he didn’t have to find out firsthand. “Living when half my Special Forces team died ate me up inside and sent me to Team Fear. I
was willing to risk anything to never feel that loss again. Even let the researchers turn me into a killing machine.” “Quit. Whatever you did when you were on missions or on your last deployment, those things were authorized and for the benefit of the Army and your fellow soldiers. Since you’ve been back, you haven’t killed anyone without cause. It’s time to let the guilt go.” “You’re pretty smart for a girl,” he teased, knowing she’d react. “Shut up.” She smacked his side, and then burrowed in. They stood for long moments, soaking each other in like air. “I watched my mother grieve, and I never understood how lost she felt. How
alone. I thought she’d given up. It wasn’t fair to her or myself.” Lauren ran a finger along his jaw. “I could live without you, but I don’t want to. The months you were gone...” Her voice choked off. Ryder jerked his head in agreement. The past six months had been purgatory, not knowing if he could hurt her the way Madigan had hurt Maggie, not knowing if he’d become a monster. Those things haunted him, but worse than being apart from her would be never having met her. “Fearlessness brought me to you. I can’t regret anything I did that led me to you. Without the meds, I never would have pursued you. Without Team Fear, I never would have moved to Texas. I’d never
have met you.” “You always know what to say.” She ran one soft fingertip over his lower lip. “I love you Sergeant Ryder.” “I love you more, Mrs. Ryder.” “Think so?” Lauren stepped back and yanked off her t-shirt. She wore a bright red bra that matched her scarlet cowboy boots. “After the week I’ve had, I’m going to need a demonstration.” “How long have you been hiding that bra?” If he had his way, she’d never wear anything else. Her heavy breasts spilled their creamy goodness over the red lace, and the outline of her pink nipples turned his dick to flint. Hard and ready to spark. Ryder’s tongue turned to jerky. He put a finger under the
waistband of her jeans and yanked her close. “You wearing matching panties?” She co*cked her head to the side. “Only one way to find out, soldier.” “Challenge accepted.” Ryder stripped off her jeans before she had time to object. She stood there in matching bra and panties, and the cowboy boots that had caught his attention that first night. Pale skin, soft curves, and a whole lot of Texas attitude. His erection pressed painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He ran a hand down her midline, from the center diamond in her bra to the silk bow on her panties. The muscles under his rough fingers twitched at his touch. “Baby, you’re gorgeous.”
“You’re overdressed.” She ran a hand up his chest, around his shoulder and down his arms. She moaned as her hands explored. “Want help with that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but tunneled her hands under the cotton of his shirt, the moves a slow striptease. Her hands explored him like he’d hidden the keys to the universe on his person and she was on the hunt. Removing his shirt was secondary to driving him to an early grave. She circled his back before lowering her hands into the waistband of his jeans, her fingertips teasing. “You have such a nice ass.” She kneaded the skin, digging into the muscles. Ryder’s hips jerked. With great attention to detail —like she loved the job—she pressed
and teased and explored her way around the waistband until she unsnapped the first button. Rather than unzip, she pressed the palm of her hand down the seam of his jeans. His hips jerked harder, his co*ck jumping and pressing against her hand, the denim stretched over his erection. Ryder’s eyes rolled back at the pleasure of her touch. The zipper was tattooing his co*ck. The erotic pain demanded Lauren’s lush heat. Ryder tunneled his hands in her silky hair and yanked until the angle opened her to him. He ached for her, a craving beyond hunger. Fire snapped in her eyes as she held his gaze, and then she reached down to unzip him, one tooth at a time.
Each tick brushed cool air over the tip of his erection, the contrast in temperature adding to the desire. When she reached the bottom, she gripped him in her warm hand, wrapped her fingers around his co*ck and stroked him. His thighs trembled and it was perfectly clear he wasn’t going to last long. “You make me feel strong. I love that you empower me, that you challenge my ideas and force me to think and to feel. I love that you trust me and brought me into your team. They’re your family, and I love them for bringing you back to me.” “Thank you.” His voice was husky, tight with emotion. Her words sewed him back together, connecting the
separate pieces of his soul. He slipped his hand behind her neck and gripped her. He stared down into her midnight blue eyes. “Team Fear is my family, but you’re my life. You are the most determined person I know, and the most fragile. I wanted to protect you. Keep you separate from the bad in my life, even if it meant keeping myself apart from the team or apart from you. I wanted one unspoiled thing. I didn’t trust you to see the whole me, but I do now. Baby, you can handle anything.” “We can handle anything. We’re a team. Team Ryder.” “You kill me.” The soft kiss quickly flashed to desire. She fought for control, and it was one more thing he loved about
her. She reached between them and stroked his erection, nearly bringing him to his knees. Ryder pulled back. She looked up at him through wet lashes. “I love the feel of you. Hard and velvet smooth.” She licked her lips, her gaze an inferno as she tightened her grip. With her free hand, she shoved his jeans down his thighs and then grabbed his balls. They tightened so much he wanted to thrust into her grip and spill right there. Hell no. If she kept at it, he’d last all of six seconds. “My turn.” He turned and dropped her on the bed, shedding his jeans as he walked towards her. A low burn settled in his groin, so he squeezed the tip to hold it
off. He crawled over her, settling his groin on her lap, letting his weight settle on her lower lips. Her moisture coated his shaft as he tilted his hips and stroked through her folds. “Ryder,” she moaned, her tone a demand. “Not yet.” The pleasure of touching her, of her moans and sighs, he needed to explore with her. He nipped and sucked the pink buds of her nipples through the red lace until they pebbled as hard as any stone. “I love tasting you, touching you.” But he wanted more. He tasted the sweet skin down her midline. The soft flesh was smooth cream next to the red satin. She sucked in a breath as he fingered the edge of her panties.
He used his shoulders to spread her legs. She tensed as he settled low, his breath warming her flesh and increasing the pulse beating through her thigh. The tip of a finger slipped under the elastic and barely brushed the light hair between her legs. She tensed, her inner thighs clenched against him. “We’re just getting started,” he promised. She relaxed back, her hips settling into the soft mattress. He took his time, teasing the slim fabric encasing her mound. When she arched into him with a catch of her breath, Ryder pulled the fabric from her skin and tossed it across the room. Moisture glistened and he couldn’t stop himself. He settled into a rhythm of long, deep strokes of his
tongue until her thighs started to shake. His fingers opened her, spread her wider before slowly slipping two fingers into her. Lauren gasped and tossed her head back, tunneling into the mattress with her head and feet and arching into him. Unintelligible words tumbled from her mouth. “So f*cking sexy. I love watching you. Does this feel good?” The muscles along her abdomen fluttered. “Yes. God, yes.” She held her breath as she arched into his hand. The hunger in her voice made his dick flex, wanting in on the action. “I want you on my tongue.” He adjusted the rhythm and she shot off the mattress, her
feet bracing and lifting her higher. Her internal muscles clenched around his finger. “Come for me, beautiful.” He sucked her cl*t and she exploded, the org*sm pulling a scream from her lips. He brought her down slowly, enjoying her pleasure. Her taste, her whimpers. She rasped his name before reaching down to stroke him. Ryder closed his eyes at the delicious torture of her touch. She felt f*cking fantastic. “I’m not going to last.” He wanted her too much to go slow. A smirk lifted his lips before he flipped her onto her hands and knees. He nudged her legs apart before slamming home.
Lauren’s heart raced. Ryder was his badass self again; unarmed but dangerous as hell. If she had use of her hands, she’d fan herself. The man was sexy as hell. Her legs shook as Ryder’s hips slammed into her. She was fully open, fully exposed, so full of need, she couldn’t process anything but the slide of him through her sensitive flesh. He’d taken over her body, his pleasure feeding hers. Every thrust brushed raw nerve endings, sending her body back on a steady climb to an impossible climax.
She pressed back to take him deeper. His voice, whiskey rough, called her name before a big hand pressed her shoulders into the mattress. The angle gave him all control and he used it. His hips slammed against her ass, his hands gripping her sides and held her where he wanted her, the grip bruising and notching up the need. The bed shifted from his frantic moves. Lauren dropped her head at the same time Ryder tilted her hips. The shift brought the head of his dick against a spot so sensitive, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Each thrust excited the nerves. The org*sm spiraled from where they were joined. Ryder gave a muffled shout, jerking inside her as he came. He
continued to thrust through both their org*sms. Finally, he collapsed on her back, both their bodies spent. They lay there, the bed twisted forty-five degrees from the wall, panting for breath. Finally, Ryder slid to his side and pulled her into his heated flesh. He nuzzled her neck, sending aftershocks through her body. “I need a shower before the briefing.” Lauren nodded, her eyes drooping. An hour ago, she’d been certain Ryder was kicking her out of his life; that he’d sneak off after the detox and disappear for good. Instead, he’d given her two of the best org*sms of her life. Better yet, he’d said he loved her. The words meant everything. “I talked to Crawford earlier
today. He agreed to let me finish my dissertation long distance.” “Finally learned to sweet talk the old man?” Ryder’s chest rose and fell against her back. Lauren wiggled back to find the sweet spot. When she reached it, Ryder wrapped an arm around her waist, linking them. “I threatened to quit the program.” Crawford had had an apoplectic fit across the phone line. “You what?” Ryder leaned up on an elbow. “You’re too close to the finish line.” “I’m not letting you leave me again.” In the past few days, her priorities had shifted. Rose and the rest of the team said it wasn’t safe to go back
to the campus as long as Team Echo knew where she was. The ranch was out as well. She could finish her degree anywhere. For that matter, she could teach with her master’s degree if she had to. She wasn’t getting left behind. It’s not like she had much pride left. She’d been kidnapped, beaten, threatened, and had her house turned into a morgue before exploding in what Rose called a blaze of f*cking glory. Only one thing mattered. She twisted onto her back to look up at Ryder. Eyes the color of velvet green moss focused on her with an intensity that chilled the flush from her skin. “You’re finishing if I have to stand guard outside your class every day.”
“Crawford already assigned my classes to a first-year.” Ryder’s lips slimmed into a frown, without words for the first time since she’d known him. Lauren rubbed a hand through the scruff on his jaw. The rough wildness was the first thing she’d noticed about him, and she loved the feel of his whiskers against her skin. The innate masculinity he exuded made her feel feminine. She reached up to nip his chin. “It’s only a few months, and not teaching will give me more time to finish my dissertation.” “So you’re not quitting?” “Apparently that’s not an option.” Wings fluttered in her chest. Ryder
understood what made her tick. He understood the importance of finishing her education. “I love you.” “Guess you’re stuck with me.” His lips whispered across hers. When he came up for air, he glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Thirty minutes to the briefing.” “A nap sounds just about perfect.” She hadn’t slept the past few days. Every muscle in her body hurt, and added to it, she and Debi shared a room, which was fine, they’d done that before, but their designated bodyguard snored, so sleep was near impossible. But what really had kept her awake was fear. Rose wouldn’t let her see Ryder. She’d kept watch so Ryder couldn’t disappear
in the middle of the night. She could use a good twenty-four hour nap. “Sorry.” Ryder stood and then pulled her up and over his shoulder in a naked fireman’s carry. She squealed his name. He laughed and walked towards the bathroom, his hand sliding along the curve of her backside. “We have a half hour. I plan to use every minute.”
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN Lauren pulled Ryder to a halt on the way out the door. The bed was now perpendicular to the wall and the shower curtain rod was hanging drunkenly from one bare screw. Ryder grinned at the destruction. Lauren smacked his gut. “We’ll have to leave in the middle of the night.” “Totally worth it.” A pretty flush climbed her chest. “Remind me why I love you?” “Because you think quoting Sun Tzu is sexy.” She laughed, the sound a good luck charm. “I think the Romantic era poets
are sexy.” “That stays between me and you.” Rose would never let him live it down. “Since you quoted Byron to get in my pants, I don’t think that counts.” “You love me because I still keep that leaf in my wallet. Plus.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, brushing his scruff against the soft skin of her neck. “Three screaming org*sms in the last hour.” “It’s a reason.” She butted her shoulder into his chest. His heart flexed in a pang of unfamiliar emotion. Happiness, he decided, beating the hell out of his chest. “A damn good reason.” He twisted his fingers through hers and led the way to
the other room where they were putting together a conference with the rest of the team. A surprise rain drizzled from the gray sky. Not quite day and not quite night. In the room, someone had setup a buffet of pizza and soda. Ryder grabbed a plate for himself and Lauren, but while they ate, a hive of angry African bees stirred in his gut. He still wasn’t leveled out from the meds, but they needed to get gone. Staying too long in one place was asking for Team Echo to find them. When the different team members clicked onto the videoconference, Ryder paced as he would for a live briefing. They hadn’t been a team for eight months. His hair was longer and his
head more f*cked. They looked different, too. Some had longer hair, more tats, more attitude coming across the video. In the past six months, he’d kept watch from afar. Visiting team members and watching them slowly withdraw from the world. Where were they mentally? Did they see ghosts and stalkers and danger in every shadow? Craft nudged him forward. “Bennett is MIA. Stills told us to f*ck off.” “He’s a moody bastard.” Ryder took a deep breath and sat in front of the camera. A split screen of four of the best men he knew filled the monitor. Something in his chest expanded. Briefing the team, he felt more like himself than he had since leaving the
Army. He spoke directly to screen, knowing the three men and two women in the room were following along. “After Madigan’s incident, Captain Johnson tracked me down in the county jail.” Rose pursed his lips into a flat line. “He had to be close to get there before I did.” Ryder nodded. Johnson had already been there and gone before Rose bailed Ryder out of jail. Johnson had been keeping watch on him or he wouldn’t have made it there in time. “The captain warned me that the clusterf*ck in front of the media had attracted attention. According to him, his superiors called to ask if he knew the meaning of the word
clandestine operation.” “Translation, you made the news, and after Kandahar, they couldn’t afford the heat.” “Exactly. Using his typical f*cking doublespeak, Johnson warned me that the company was ready to pull my plug.” Curses sounded from the screen. Rose’s jaw twitched. Yeah, Ryder had f*cked up by not telling Rose the whole truth, but he hadn’t known if Johnson was screwing with him. One last mindf*ck for sh*ts and giggles. “I thought I was the only one in the crosshairs, because I had been the one on camera.” And Madigan was already dead, so there wasn’t much they could do to him. Ryder had spent the next six months stuck in his
head, trying to decide what was real and what was paranoia. Trying to decide if Johnson and his company of jackasses would come for the rest of the team. Now he had his answer. Whoever was in charge, they’d go after anyone in their way. There would be no mercy for the ones they loved. “What Johnson didn’t tell me was that Team Echo was still alive.” Ryder ran them through what they’d learned the past few days. “It is highly likely both Madigan and Gault were dosed with whatever mad co*cktail would flip a switch in their brains. The result wasn’t pretty.” The image of Madigan pulling the trigger was stuck in a loop in Ryder’s head. A man with dark hair and a
scraggly beard leaned forward, his face filling his corner of the screen. “What does your goat rope have to do with us?” “Santiago, you’ve always been a contrary motherf*cker.” “That’s why you love me.” He leaned back. “Seriously, man, I know you. Your ass could be on fire and you’d run for the nearest water source rather than ask for help, so I say again, what does this goat rope have to do with us?” “Possibly nothing. Possibly everything.” He laid it out for them, everything they’d learned about Team Echo. “The fact that they’re officially dead tells me they’re working with someone on the inside. If what Joe told Lauren is correct, they were kept in the
program because of their ability to kill without remorse.” Craft moved into the shot with Ryder. “We were sent packing because they found their elite team of killing machines.” A rock settled in Ryder’s gut. “This next part is supposition. After the fact, someone decided to eliminate the loose ends. We were part of the program. If anyone asks questions, we know too much.” “Screams black ops,” Santiago said. “If Echo was the result they were looking for, we’re a danger to them and their operation. Makes me wonder if the other teams are experiencing similar episodes.”
sh*t, Ryder had been so focused on his team, on protecting Lauren, that he had lost track of the other teams that were part of the experiment. There were six of them total, including Team Echo. “What happened to the other teams? We were all cut loose, but are they dead or alive?” Rose wrote a few quick lines in his notebook. “We’ll add that to the long f*cking list of questions that need answers. First question, who funded the program? Captain Johnson was the face, but he wasn’t the one paying the bills.” Santiago’s dark eyes narrowed. “We should have asked more questions.” “Agreed.” Ryder had been too gung-ho Army to question his good
fortune at being recognized and selected. Ego was a nasty bastard. “Who wants us gone and why? We were obviously in a classified program, but medical personnel were involved. Researchers. There were trials done as they developed the protocol, long before we hit the barracks. So who did the R&D?” Rose was writing as fast as they were talking. “I want to know how long the fearlessness lasts, as well as the paranoia and the anger. And what the hell did they give you to trigger your episode?” “Long on questions and short on answers,” Santiago said. “You want us to head your way?” “No.” Ryder had thought about this
for days. “I don’t want all their targets in one place.” “We’re stronger together,” Santiago answered. “Live by the team,” someone else echoed. Live by the team, die by the team. It was their way of life. If a teammate walked off a cliff, then you damn well better be on his heels and hit the ground ready to break his fall. “Agreed, but we stick to two teams for now.” There was chatter amongst the four about where to meet. Ryder interrupted before he heard more than he wanted. “The four of you need to circle the wagons, find a place to lie low and we’ll stay separated geographically.
Once we hang up, I don’t want to know where you f*ckers are. Craft can keep us linked electronically, but physical location is classified.” That way, if they were captured—tortured—they couldn’t give up the other team. Ryder brushed a hand over his brow. “You’re talking about running an investigation into a deactivated and classified operation—stateside—with zero equipment, zero intel, and a team of f*cking Section Eights who are mentally unfit for combat.” Craft tapped the mouse to keep the screen awake. “Brother, you are out of your mind.” “We all are. Isn’t that the point?” “You’re not crazy,” Lauren hissed from across the room. He’d warned her
to stay off camera, but she shot him a glare that said they weren’t done. A tall, blond soldier, his hair still high and tight, leaned into the frame. “You think we’re all targets?” “They were on my ass,” Fowler said, the anger vibrating in his voice. “They were after Madigan, Gault, and Ryder. Even Ryder’s wife.” “Seems to be isolated around your location,” the soldier insisted. “We’re targets.” On the adjacent square, Santiago glared, his eyes an abyss of dark emotions. “Last I heard from Bennett, he had picked up a tail. Said he was going underground.” “That’s what you need to do. The four of you, plus Stills if you can
convince his ornery ass. Craft has setup a secure chat room. Check in once a week, more often if you have information.” “We going after Johnson?” Ice shimmered in Santiago’s dark eyes, promising vengeance. “Gault was a good soldier. A friend. Mad Dog too. Johnson deserves payback.” Fowler’s hand twitched like he had something to add, but Ryder shook him off. For now, the two teams worked with operational autonomy. Information was on a need to know. Team by team. “We’re going after information,” Ryder insisted. “And if I find him first?” f*cker. Santiago always made it
personal. “Get the information first.” If they killed Johnson, Ryder didn’t want to know. Santiago’s two-finger salute wasn’t exactly agreement. Ryder stepped out of the hot seat and let Craft take over, walking the other team through the communication protocol. Lauren stood and wrapped her arms around Ryder. Behind her, Debi’s features were pale and gaunt. “I’m not going home, am I?” “Afraid not, sweetheart.” Rose stood with his back to the camera, blocking any view of the women. “Echo knows where you live and work, your connection to Lauren. They tried to infiltrate your house the other night. We
have to assume they’ll try again if you make yourself a target.” Debi dropped her head between her knees like she was shaking off a panic attack. Behind them, Craft finished the call and shut it down. He turned and nailed Fowler with a glare. “Want to tell us what has you so twitchy?” “sh*t has been happening so fast, we didn’t get a chance to debrief the situation in Tucson.” Fowler rubbed his hands together. “The reason I picked up a tail was because I was tracking Gault’s last few days.” Ryder nodded. “I did the same. Rose wasn’t far behind me. Gault was a paranoid bastard, zigzagging all over Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona.
Seems we would have saved ourselves some trouble if we’d made a more coordinated effort. That starts now.” Working alone had gotten Gault killed. Fowler pulled a laptop from a duffel bag on the floor. “This was Gault’s. A couple days before the incident” —he coughed— “Gault called me. Same paranoid sh*t we’ve all felt and said and done. He’d told me if anything happened to him, I should check out his old man’s hunting cabin. Found this there.” Craft grabbed the laptop. “Come to Papa.” He booted it up, and started searching recent files. Less than a minute passed before he whistled low. “How the hell did he get this?”
Ryder leaned over his shoulder. “Is that—” “The coroner’s report on Madigan’s family.” Ryder read through, standing behind Craft. Most of it, he didn’t want to know. He’d seen the crime scene photos. The memory still turned his stomach, but he read through it, knowing Gault had put his ass on the line to get it. When he got to the description of Maggie’s injuries, he stopped. “f*ck. Madigan didn’t kill Maggie.” Lauren looked between the two men. “Echo was going to kill me and frame you. Makes sense they did the same at Madigan’s. What does the autopsy tell you?”
“The killer was a leftie. Slit Maggie’s throat from right to left. As far gone as he was, Mad Dog would have done the deed with his dominant hand.” “f*ck.” Rose hit the table next to the laptop, knocking over a soda can. “sh*thead.” Craft yanked the electronics away from the spill. Rose trembled with unspent rage. “I saw that sh*t firsthand. Came down the stairs after the shot went off. Ryder watched it happen.” “Mad Dog killed himself, but we never questioned that he killed Maggie and the baby.” Ryder tore his hand through his hair. They’d failed Madigan, because they had believed the setup. Lauren tugged at Ryder’s elbow. He
lifted his arm and tucked her into his side. “You okay?” She cleared her throat. “You know who is a leftie?” She glanced across the room at Debi. “Baby Face Joe.” Debi’s faced paled and looked like she wanted to throw up. “He knocked you across the room with his left.” “Sick f*ck,” Fowler muttered. “The way Madigan carried on about his wife and kid. I never did buy that story. The sh*t running through our veins altered us, inhibited the fear, and I’ll be the first to admit that the side effects are killer, but I don’t think it can turn us into something we’re not.” “The people in that village in
Kandahar might disagree.” “I’m not saying Echo didn’t go ballistic, I’m saying they started as sad*stic, psychopathic bastards.” Ryder leaned back on his heels. “What are the odds that twelve men on the same team went all Helter Skelter without a push? We’re not talking friendly fire or a weird adrenaline rush. These guys took out an entire village, men, women, and children.” Ryder had forced himself to read the classified files after the incident. He’d made a promise to himself that day. He’d follow Mad Dog to the other side before he lost his humanity like that. Fowler picked up a piece of pizza and chewed on the end. Thoughts were
working themselves out in his owlish brain. The click of his jaw was the only sound in the room. When he finished, he tossed the pizza bone back into the box. “What do we have in common?” “You mean the recruits who signed on the dotted line and drank the KoolAid?” Rose asked. “No. Team Fear. What binds us?” “Loyalty,” Craft answered. “I’d die for you f*ckers.” Lauren shook her head no, bumping into Ryder’s side. “The military trinity. God, country, family.” “That’s it.” Fowler pointed a finger at her as if she’d won a prize. “You’re a genius.” “I have my moments.” She batted
her eyelashes at him. “What’s your point?” “We never questioned our dedication to the mission. We all felt the same way. Like Craft said, we’d die for each other. But what if we were chosen for the same team because of our core beliefs.” Ryder remembered his own thoughts back in the day. “I bled red, white, and blue.” “Exactly. We were chosen to be on Team Fear because of our dedication. Our faith. Is it such a reach to think they chose other criteria for other teams? Like choosing Team Echo for their moral flexibility.” It made a sick sort of sense. “Let
me get this straight. You think they were chosen specifically because they were psychologically predisposed to murder.” “Not just predisposed, Ry. They were chosen because the link between humanity and killer had already been severed.” From the edge of the room, Debi cleared her throat, finally engaging in a conversation that must be light years out of her experience. Her skin was pale, her lips nearly blue. “You think they were already killers. Before they joined. Before they took the medicine.” Craft stepped between them. “That’s a sh*tload of supposition there, brother.” “I know what I know. All this time,
we all went to our separate caves, worried we’d end up like them, but the company was playing the long game with us. With all the teams. They stacked the deck.” Fowler braced his hands on his hips. “We won’t turn out like Echo because we didn’t start the same. What’s more, no matter how much of that sick sh*t they pump into our veins, like they did with Ry, we won’t turn. We’re inherently different than Team Echo.” “We have a soul,” Rose said. “Exactly.” Fowler looked at Ryder. “Mad Dog killed himself because he couldn’t live with having killed Maggie.” But Mad Dog hadn’t done the deed. Tension that had knotted Ryder’s gut for
six months gradually eased. He’d feared he’d go as crazy as Mad Dog, but Madigan wasn’t crazy. He’d been doped and used. “That’s not it at all.” Lauren’s voice rose as the sole voice of dissent. “Madigan killed himself because he couldn’t live without his wife.” She poked his belly. “You might want to keep that in mind, Staff Sergeant.” Ryder knew he couldn’t live without Lauren. He’d already planned to die before her, but he was starting to think he didn’t have to. Fear had nearly unhinged him, but it had also released him and built something stronger in place of the anger he’d carried since they’d been kicked out of the Army. He
ran his fingers through Lauren’s silky hair and his heart settled into place. He had Lauren and he had the team. Team Echo was in for a big f*cking surprise. “We owe it to Madigan to take them out.” It was a long way from wanting answers to seeking justice. Ryder looked at the remnants of his team. Determination glinted in their eyes. “I’m in,” they answered. Lauren pressed her hand to his heart. “I’m in.” Emotion clogged his throat, but Ryder returned the look of every person in the room. For the first time since he signed on the dotted line, he thought he had a chance at getting out of this alive. Rose stepped forward. “I’d die for
this team.” “No.” Ryder stepped forward and clapped Rose on the back. “Not this time. This time, we live by the team.” Live by the team, die by the team. It was an oath as unbreakable as his marriage vows. They were in this together. Team Fear wouldn’t fail.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Many thanks to the awesome people who made this book possible. To my writing friends Beth Rhodes and Jennie Marts, thanks for introducing me to writing sprints and for holding me accountable. Working with you two has taken my writing to the next level and I am so thankful we met. To Jessa Slade, the talented editor whose work forced me to be a better writer. To L.J. Anderson, for giving me such an amazing cover design. To Karen Gault Skelly for letting me use her last name for my DB and for being my first reader for this project. To the fabulous people at the Pikes Peak Library District for being supportive, for
answering my unusual and random reference questions, and for dedicating themselves to providing books and access for everyone in El Paso county. Library people are the true rocks stars of our world. To librarian Christine Dyar for never blinking an eye at my weird writer questions. To Nicole Deemes for her amazing close reading that catches so many of my errors. And, as always, a lifetime of thanks to my children, Brianna and Noah, who support my dreams and give me the time and space to write. For you, I would drink the Kool-Aid.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Cindy Skaggs grew up on stories of mob bosses, horse thieves, cold-blooded killers, and the last honest man. Those mostly true stories gave her a lifelong love of storytelling and heroes. Her search for story took her around the world with the Air Force before returning to Colorado. As a single mom, she’s turning her lifelong love of storytelling into the one thing she can’t live without: writing. She has an MA in Creative Writing, three jobs, two kids, and more pets than she can possibly handle. Find her on Facebook as Cindy Skaggs, Writer, @CLSkaggs on Twitter, or www.CSkaggs.com.
Discover more of Cindy’s fast-paced romantic suspense:
Untouchable She’ll do whatever it takes to find her son - Lie. Cheat. Steal. Seduce... As the former wife of an infamous crime boss, Sofia Capri is untouchable. She exists outside of the law...and outside of the criminal world. When her son is kidnapped, Sofia is desperate to find him. She’ll do anything. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Anything but trust. But it’s a strikingly handsome FBI agent who’s her only chance to get her baby back... Something about Sofia’s fiery beauty
must be hitting all of his weak spots, because suddenly Mr. Law And Order Logan Stone finds himself bending the rules. When they’re implicated in the kidnapping, Logan and Sofia discover a horrifying reality—they have less than 72 hours to find the boy and clear their names.
Table of Contents Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Acknowledgements About the Author
