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Yes, the guy had saved his life, but Trees couldn’t let up or stop now. “Ever been in love?”
“You going to give me the speech about how, if I’d ever really given my whole heart to a woman, I would understand why you’re so desperate and determined to go after her now, health be damned?”
Trees refused to let the sharp comeback dissuade him. “Yep. Because if you ever had been in love, you’d know all that shit is true.”
“Sure, but I also know if you were being rational, you’d understand that jumping in half-cocked to save her would be suicide.”
They were at another impasse, and the problem was, neither of them were wrong.
“Look, why don’t you try again to shower? Maybe that will make you feel better.” Matt peeked out the window at the nearly black sky. “Because I doubt we’re finding Laila tonight.”
Trees checked his emails again. Nothing. The silence made him antsy. He knew damn well her opportunities to get her hands on Victor’s phone would be few and far between. Hell, it was getting late, and she might already be asleep.
And she might also be suffering. Or dead,the seditious voice in his head warned.
As much as he fucking hated it, as much as it fucking chafed, he doubted he was getting any resolution tonight. It would be smarter to clean up and grab a few hours of sleep, then start his search again. But he wasn’t leaving this fucking country without her.
“I’ll try.”
“Good call.” Matt gave him a hand.
With a groan and another wave of dizziness, Trees lurched to his feet. He took a deep breath to fight the nausea and headed to the little bathroom, clutching the wall along the way. Fuck, he still felt clammy and weak, but it wasn’t as bad. He’d take the small victory.
It took more time and energy to strip than it should. He had to sit to remove everything but his pants. But he finally got naked and stepped under the spray, hissing when the warm water beat down on his stitches. All he could find was a bar of antiseptic soap, but he used it all over, sagging against the wall when his head swam. It sucked to admit that Matt had been right, but if he’d gone out to save Laila like this, he probably would have been more of a hindrance than a help.
Praying like hell that she survived the night and that she forgave him for the delay, he vowed to rescue her come morning. And if Victor had harmed her in any way—hell, if he’d so much as made her cry—he was going to kill the son of a bitch. And not merely with a simple bullet or two. Yeah, he might be the tech guy of the team, but he and Zy had gone through some really shitty black ops training. They’d endured stuff that had killed lesser men in the same program. They’d learned things that would make the average psyche—and stomach—curdle. Despite everything he’d seen and the war zones he’d fought in, he’d never once considered unleashing any of that knowledge on an enemy combatant.
Trees would one hundred percent make an exception for Victor.
When he was finally clean, he sighed in exhaustion and stepped out of the stall, groping for a towel with his eyes closed. Halfheartedly, he dried off. After the room, along with his stomach, stopped spinning, he wrapped the towel around himself. A glance at the nearby basin proved Matt had settled his clean clothes and his toothbrush nearby.
So, Walker’s bestie actually wasn’t a flaming asshole like his pal.
Okay, he was probably being harsh to his teammate. One-Mile had been a lot more pleasant since his engagement to Brea Bell. Normally he’d think it was because the guy was getting regular pussy, which took the snarl out of most beasts. But he’d met the sniper’s fiancée. He’d rarely met a sweeter girl, so he kind of hoped that Brea simply balanced Walker. And their wedding was just around the corner. Good for them. And hey, if someone as bad-tempered as One-Mile could find a woman to love him, Trees figured there was hope for him, too.
Which brought him right back to Laila. He’d threatened to marry her once. She hadn’t believed him, but he’d been dead fucking serious. He would marry her tomorrow—if she’d say yes. And when he found her again, he would ask. Not in challenge. Not in sarcasm. For real, with roses and a ring and a promise to honor and protect her for the rest of his life.
As soon as he found her, saved her, and brought her home.
When he opened the bathroom door, a plume of steam billowed out. He felt a hundred fucking years old by the time he made it back to the cot. It didn’t help that he was nearly a foot too tall for the damn thing.
Matt stood. There was something on his face Trees didn’t like.
“What is it?”
“You okay?”
When Matt answered a question with a question, it was obvious the guy was stalling. “Fine. What’s going on?”
Worry gripped his gut. Did he have an update about Laila? Had she reached out to her sister again with bad news? Or had Victor Ramos killed her after all?
“Why don’t you sit down? You look paler than hell—”
“What the fuck is going on?” If his scowl didn’t make it clear he’d lost all patience, his tone should.
Cursing under his breath, Matt paced to the other side of the room, looking reluctant to speak.
“Out with it,” he demanded.
“Fine. You set your phone down with your emails still open, and right after you left, Laila sent you something. I opened it, thinking it might be urgent and that I’d tell you—”
“You snooped?”
“Whatever her message was,” Matt went on as if Trees hadn’t interrupted.
Admittedly, the cowboy’s idea hadn’t been bad, but obviously he’d found something horrible. “And?”
“Buddy, I don’t think you want to see this.”
Trees glared at Matt. “The hell I don’t.”
