Page 101 of Trapped Truth

“We will do everything in our power to find her, Blaine. I swear it.”

His movements cease, chest shaking up and down. “It may already be too late.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean we won’t try.”

“I just… I need to know.” He clearly struggles to get the words out. “What’s she like? Where has she been? Did she ever… fuck… ever try to get back to me?”

I can’t take it for a second longer. Sweat and bloodthirst be damned. I wrap him up from behind, cheek pressed to his back muscles, arms pulling as tight as I can muster.

“You can’t keep torturing yourself.”

“I’ve had a long time to think about it.” His voice cracks, swelling with anguish. “I don’t even know what she sounds like.”

Unable to offer anything resembling comfort, it’s all I can do to hold him. Front to back. Skin on skin. Our heartbeats racing in mutual understanding. Blaine’s sweat sinks into my pores, and I willingly take his essence where I can stash it for safekeeping.

After a silent stretch, Blaine pulls at my linked hands, allowing him to turn in my embrace. I tilt my chin upward to meet his weighty stare, drilling into me with biblical resonance.

The kiss that lands on my mouth is heavy, passionate. Lips move like blunt instruments to tease out my obedience, one energetic peck at a time. Each brush inserts electrodes into my nerve cells and feeds pure adrenaline into the most primitive part of my brain.

I let myself open up, willingly taking the swipe of his thick tongue. Heat passes between us, a mutual need bubbling from beneath the surface like groundwater vying to escape its prison cell. Dammit, I need this man like I need air to breathe.

Our frenzied tangle is rudely interrupted by the trill of his phone ringing. With a grunt, Blaine reluctantly disentangles his limbs from mine. He stoops to retrieve the device from a pile near where the rag lays.

“Raye?”

The moment the line connects, Blaine’s entire posture transforms from loose and turned on into a ramrod of tension. Near-black inkiness creeps from his pupils into his irises, swallowing all residual colour.

“Slow down… I can’t hear you. Raye?”

Tinny echoes emanate from the speaker. It sounds a lot like yelling. At the faraway ring of pew, pew, pew, I feel panic start to creep in. Gunfire has an unmistakable sound.

“Raye! Answer me!”

A dial tone cuts off the call. I distantly register surprise that the phone hasn’t split or cracked in the sheer tightness of his grip. Blaine quickly redials, but there’s no response. It doesn’t even ring this time.

“The line’s dead,” he states frantically.

“Were they being attacked?”

“She could barely get a word out, but I know what I heard. We need to move. Now.”

“And go where?”

“They’re in a new location. I have to help them!”

Our hands join on instinct. United. I chase him from the gym to take the elevator upstairs, intent on locating my phone and weapon. Blaine’s foot soldiers may not be my favourite people, but Madden doesn’t get to hurt anyone else.

“We need reinforcements.” Blaine skids to a halt in the corridor. “I’m going to speak to the directors. Get ready and meet me on the helipad.”

“You think they’ll let us take the chopper?”

“We have to. The warehouse is too far to drive; we’ll never make it in time. Go!”

My footsteps hammering on the carpet mirror the uneven drum beat that fills my ears. I stashed my belongings in Warner’s office. There’s no time to call the others—a quick message to the team will have to suffice.

No one is going to be happy about a last minute rescue op in unknown territory. Yet that isn’t going to stop me from helping Blaine. Jabbing numbers into the keypad on the discreet closet behind the door, I rush towards Warner’s Kevlar and extra weapons stashed inside.

I quickly pull on and fasten the vest then holster two guns. My phone is screaming for attention on his desk. Grabbing it, I shove the screaming device into the utility pocket on my bulletproof vest without acknowledgement.