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Suicide, really. But tonight he had a death wish. So whatever happened in the next four miles before he hit the Pacific Coast Highway was his destiny.
Tearing blindly around one curve after another, tilting the bike precariously, Gray drove far faster than anyone in their right mind would. But it had been a long time since he’d had a clear head and, hell, he probably had always been a little mad.
The melancholy moon above, barely a sliver, offered him the faintest light as he cruised down the steep, winding hill far too fast. A rock wall towered high on his right and a sheer drop with no guard rail teased his left. A sharp hairpin turn was coming up fast and Gray leaned to the side, so low he nearly skimmed the ground with his knee. A sharp rock bounced up and hit his face, but he welcomed the sting.
More than halfway through the ride, he pushed harder and each time he hit a brief straightaway, he increased his speed. Maybe he was just punishing himself for being the only one who survived the massacre that happened in that Colombian jungle. Because if he truly wanted to end things, he could simply drive off the edge of the mountain.
Perhaps the possibility that Gray might still have something left to live for, a reason why he hadn’t died beside his brothers, burned in the back of his mind. Did he still have a purpose, some reason why he’d been spared?
Gray had never been one to believe in signs, but right now he needed one. Desperately.
Careening down the side of the mountain, he glanced up and asked for guidance. For an answer. For enlightenment. For fucking anything.
Then he went flying around another sharp curve and his tires hit a patch of wet sand mixed with some loose rock. The Kawasaki lost traction and slid onto its side, dragging Gray beneath it and across the road.
Sparks flew, his helmet flew and the pavement came up to crack against his skull.
???
Gray didn’t know if he was alive or dead.
For a long moment, he laid on his back as a light rain sprinkled down around him, coating his face with a fine, wet mist.
“Is that him?” a deep voice asked.
“Yeah, that’s Demon.”
“You said he could be moody. I don’t recall you mentioning anything about being batshit crazy,” another voice commented dryly.
Gray’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted through the haze of drizzle and darkness. A group of men stood there, staring down at him. They each wore a tactical neck gaiter, so Gray couldn’t see any features below their eyes.
“Who are you?” he rasped, pushing up onto an elbow. A sharp pain sliced down his left side where he’d wiped out and he grimaced.
“You wanna die?” a man with gray eyes asked.
Do I?
“Because we’ll grant your wish.”
No,Gray decided. Maybe he wasn’t ready to leave this Earth yet. And maybe these men were the answer he’d been searching for.
Without warning, the man with the black eyes tossed a bag over his head.
Shit.Maybe not.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The day of Tanner’s funeral wasn’t easy, and Ryland was grateful to have Harper by his side. He wished she could stay there forever. But their new plan would prohibit that. Ryland still needed to tell her and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He didn’t want to leave her but, at the same time, how could he possibly ask her to do what they were about to do?
It wasn’t fair to ask her to make that kind of sacrifice.
Ryland was grateful for the opportunity to give his friend a proper goodbye and burial. The rest of the team was there and they mourned the loss of their fellow teammate together. In the back of his mind, Ryland tried to squash the nagging suspicion that one of these people he’d been working so closely with could possibly be responsible. It made his stomach turn.
Before the ceremony concluded, Ryland walked up to the coffin and pounded his Trident pin into the wood. Then he gave his friend a final, sharp salute. When he returned to Harper’s side, she slid her hand in his and squeezed.
Banshee followed suit, walked up, pushed his pin into the wood and gave it one, sharp pound with his fist. It was a sign of utmost respect and honor for their fallen SEAL brother.
Watching Banshee salute the casket, Ryland realized it was getting harder and harder for him to figure out who he could trust. But Banshee just moved up on his short list of trustworthy people after doing that.
