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ed them over the rim of his mug. Taylor slumped lower and passed the time by picking at the lettuce on her turkey club.
“I’m sorry about the way things panned out,” Jack offered.
Sebastian pinned him with a long stare. “As am I. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if your men had succeeded.”
“We did the best we could, Baas.”
“Your second attempt damn near killed me and took out six of my men. Don’t sit there looking at me as if you expect a pat on the back.”
Jack took a long sip of coffee and nodded at the waitress when she stopped to offer a refill. His whiskey eyes lit when the pretty brunette topped off his mug and plied him with a smile, but the years and hardness etching his face returned the minute she left. Leaning back, he stretched his arms across the top of the padded booth.
“I don’t know how many times I need to say it, Sebastian, but that helicopter strike wasn’t our doing.”
“Right,” he replied bitterly. “I don’t care if it was the FBI, the CIA, NSA or a preemptive military strike. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all rolling around in the same bed. What I want to know is what you are going to do to remedy the mess you’ve made. Marx is oblivious to the toes he’s been trampling. He only has one suspect in mind at this point and that person is me.”
Taylor’s wide grey stare swung up from her plate. Seeing the terror and uncertainty streak across her face, he reached beneath the worn Formica table and captured her fingers in a reassuring squeeze.
“I had one request, Baas. One. Yet I still don’t have it in my hands.”
“You will have it in a few more days. I promise you that.”
Glancing in Taylor’s direction, the Federal Agent flushed and lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I can’t move forward until I get what I asked for, Sebastian. I could trust the man I met eight years ago, but a lot of time has passed since then. When you are ready to deliver, we will make an exchange.”
His eyes narrowed and the familiar bristle of anger crept across his skin. He was about to tear into the man for deliberately putting him at risk and wasting his time when a brief flicker of movement drew his attention across the street. Craning to the side, he tried to get a better view of the man settling against the row of glass storefronts. He regretted it the moment his line of sight opened. The gaunt, hollowed out cheeks and long, beaky nose were features he’d come to know all too well. His chest tightened as he swung his accusing glare in Jack’s direction.
“Is something wrong?” the agent asked.
“Yes, Jack, there is. What he is doing here?”
The older gentleman smiled. “Who Frank? Relax. He’s just keeping an eye on things. Much the same way you have security and one of your men making sure none of this goes too far.”
Releasing Taylor’s hand, he cracked the knuckles on his thumbs. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to know the Feds were aware of Jackson and Rupert, but that didn’t mean he liked it. He liked the Sleepy Hollow looking fucker across the street even less—a fact he wasn’t willing to contain.
“That man has taken pictures and followed me from one end of the city to the next for months. He threatened my agency and my family, and you’re telling me you are the one who’s behind it?”
“We needed to locate you, Sebastian, and to try to get a feel where you stood. Frank Burrell doesn’t work for us. Much like yourself, he’s a private contractor. His job wasn’t to eliminate you. Merely to keep tabs and let you know the game was up.”
To say he was annoyed was an understatement. He had half a mind to lunge across the table and plant his fork in Jack’s jugular, bodyguards and backup be damned. His fingers curled around the handle, and he was leaning toward doing just that when the door burst open.
Jackson’s smoky silver eyes were wide and wild, the look on his face one of sheer panic. Josh burst through the doors right behind him, forcing Sebastian to his feet. Out of sheer instinct alone, he grabbed Taylor’s wrist, ripping her out of the booth with him. A loud, static voice erupted over Jack’s radio, and he spun, trying to gauge the agent’s face and reaction. Everything was happening too fast.
Taylor cried out. He whirled at the sound, but a hard spear to his midsection drove the air from his lungs and brought him up short. The momentum thrust him back and, afraid of hauling Taylor down with him, he let go. That one split second was all it took.
“GET DOWN!”
Jackson’s frantic shout died beneath a deafening explosion of thunder. The building blew inward in a devastating fireball filled with brick, twisted metal and glass. The flash was blinding, the percussion violent enough to send him and Jackson airborne. Everything brightened, his skin blistered and scorched from the sudden blast of heat. They landed several feet away and another flash detonated in front of Sebastian’s eyes as his skull bounced off the floor.
Seconds passed maybe more. Jackson lay stretched above him, his body limp and unmoving. Thick plumes of smoke and dust rolled through the decimated building and sparks flew from the ravaged lighting system overhead. Shoving his teammate off him, Sebastian rolled away and coughed, struggling for a decent breath of air. A high-pitched, keening whine droned in his ears, drowning out everything else. It grew louder and more intense when he shook his head in an attempt to clear his doubled vision.
Bodies lay strewn across the floor. Some charred, some buried beneath chunks of rubble. His heart thudded so fast and hard, he was sure he was going to pass out as he scanned the wreckage, searching for any sign of Taylor. Using his forearms, he pulled himself across the floor and dragged himself over the carnage. An agonizing eternity passed before he found her.
She lay on her side not too far from where their booth had been. Ash and a thin layer of dust and soot coated her face. Her eyes, though tortured and haunted with unspeakable fear, locked with his, the contact flooding him with instant relief. Ignoring the shooting pains ravaging his abdomen, he dragged himself to her side. His hands trailed over her face before fluttering over the rest of her in a precursory search. He drew back with a sharp wince when he touched something warm on the back of her head and his palm came back sticky.
“Baby…”
She grabbed his hand, squeezing it. It was hard to tell through the dust and smoke, not to mention the way his vision swam, but he was pretty sure the look in her eyes was promising him everything was okay.
He was too exhausted to move again. Too tired to speak. The pain gripping his body intensified and he shuddered, growling with his efforts not to cry out in pain. Instead, he contented himself with laying down beside her. Their fingers touched. He wanted more. He wanted to pick the small shrapnel of glass and debris out of her skin. He wanted to gather her close and hold her, but the gentle press of their fingertips was all he could muster.
“Baas!” Jackson’s voice cut through the ringing, making his temples throb. “Jesus, boss. You’re okay. You’re both okay,” the young man said, dropping to his knees beside them. Blood dribbled from his nose and leaked from his ears, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Hang in there. Help is coming.”
He closed his eyes, listening to the shrill wail of sirens as they grew louder and more insistent. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. That was all they needed to get through. Just a few more. Jackson slumped forward and his stomach knotted. Grimacing against the pain, he stared into Taylor’s eyes.
“Hold on,” he whispered. “Stay. Please.”
She nodded weakly and tried to say that she loved him, but her mouth formed the words without sound. He tried to do the same, but darkness was already starting to close in around him.
CHAPTER 13 ~
Sebastian startled awake, his body stiff and jerking violently against the restraints. The pain rocketing through his midsection was unlike anything he’d ever felt before but it was the memories of what had happened that suffused him with anguish and terror. The cold, white sterile walls, blinding surgical lights, and rows of stainless steel medical equipment did not
hing to alleviate his fears. Straining against the leather cuffs binding his wrists, he fought to pull free as his eyes darted back and forth in a frantic search for Taylor. The sheets on the bed beside him were bloody and rumpled. It had been used, but it now sat empty. His chest heaved with the heavy onset of panic.
“Baas…”
He startled at the sound of Jackson’s voice. He knew he was still disorientated and nothing was making sense, but it truly felt like the kid had appeared out of nowhere. The young man had taken a hell of a beating. Blood soaked through the gauze circling his ribs and there didn’t seem to be an inch of his caramel skin that wasn’t cut or discolored with bruises. Still fighting to find his voice, he watched Jackson approach the side of his bed.
“Taylor…”
Before the young man could respond, the door swung open hard enough to rebound off the painted cement block wall. He winced as the noise set off a series of painful explosions in his head.
“I will handle this,” Marx directed.
Jackson seemed to hesitate for a moment but nodded. He dragged his feet as he backed out of the commander’s way, his movements cumbersome and sluggish from the pain. Sebastian’s forehead creased with worry. Wresting his stare from his teammate, he met the ebony pools of Marx’s eyes. He studied those fathomless reflections, searching for regret, rage, humor, anything that might help him brace himself for what lie ahead, but per usual, the man’s face gave away nothing. Without a word, Marx reached into his inside pocket and dropped an amethyst pendant with a gleaming silver chain onto Sebastian’s bed.
Two simultaneous reactions stuck him. One was of being doused with a torrent of ice water, the other a sword straight through his chest. He stared at the necklace in horror, recoiling further into the mattress as he shook his head.
“No.”
The word left him in a shallow pant.
“No…God…please.”
“There’s no easy way to say this, Sebastian, and I see no point in beating around the bush--”
