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“I am not his boy. I’m not anyone’s boy. You better get that straight right now,” Sebastian warned, his body trembling with fury.
His jaw tensed as Josh boldly stepped into the line of fire, his hands outstretched and pleading.
“Baas, give me the gun. Don’t do this. Please. Come on, man. Your head’s all fucked up and you aren’t thinking straight. It’s not worth it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Josh.”
“Then don’t. Come on. Put that fucking thing down. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Do you think I care?” he asked, tilting his head. “What am I supposed to do, huh? Just go back on my word? Pretend none of this ever happened? No…get out of the way. Now.”
“You might not value your own life at the moment, Sebastian,” Marx stated flatly, “but you seem to place a great deal of importance on Miss McAvay’s. I’m going to chalk this unpleasantness up to a head injury, and you are going to understand that Taylor is under our care. She’s receiving treatment from our medical staff, one of the finest teams in the world. I can easily pull the plug on that generosity and leave her to die like your security guard. The choice is yours.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles beneath knotting with hatred and rage.
“Seb…Seb, listen to me,” Josh soothed, stepping closer. “Taylor needs you. She’s right there on the other side of those doors. You’re not doing either one of you any good standing out here having a pissing match with Marx. Just calm down and give me the gun…please.”
His lip curled. Lean body shaking with fury and disgust, he shook his head, locked the safety, and slammed the pistol into his partner’s waiting palm. The smug smile and gleam in Marx’s eyes made him regret that decision. He brushed past their director with a glower.
“After you,” Marx said with a sweeping bow.
The red-hot anger pumping through his veins fell beneath a wave of concern as he spotted Taylor. She looked so small and fragile strapped to one of the gurneys with a team of medical personnel swarming around her. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he rushed across the room. His eyes burned as he took in the bloody, tattered remnants of her clothes and the electrodes stuck to her chest. One of the doctors nudged him out of the way. Shooting the short, chubby man a brief glare, Sebastian made his way to the head of the stretcher.
The angry purple bruises mottling her face and sides broke his heart. That delectable bottom lip was going to need stitches, as was a tiny cut above her eye. His body trembled as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was hard. Too damn hard. All he wanted was to snatch her off the bed, hold her close, and beg her to open her eyes. He’d promise her the world if it meant having her back at his side.
“Taylor?” he asked, his voice coming in a choked whisper. His hand shook as he trailed it over the bruised slope of her cheek.
“Come on, Baas. Get out of the way,” one of the medics urged.
“Taylor, baby, wake up. Please wake up,” he begged. “I’m here now, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay. Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”
“Baas, get out of the way!”
He whirled on the short, bearded doctor with a snarl. The man stumbled back only to collide with the solid wall of Marx’s chest. He fumbled with his wire rim glasses, panic stamping his owl-like face as he tried to decide which man was the bigger threat.
A soft whimper broke the silence and Sebastian spun, his attention swinging back to Taylor. Eyes wide and terrified, she struggled against the restraints as she came out of sedation. Her muffled sobs tore at what was left of his heart.
“No, baby. Stop,” he pleaded hoarsely. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Her gaze swung up to his and the pleading on her face forced a lump to his throat. Reaching down, he smoothed the hair from her brow, fighting the tears that threatened. He fought to keep his emotions in check as her face crumpled with pity and a low moan broke past her lips.
Taylor shook her head. “Seb…”
“Shh. It’s okay. I’m fine. This is nothing,” he soothed. “Everything’s going to be okay. We need to focus on you.”
“Alright,” Marx interrupted. The deep thunder of his voice rolled through the room. “That’s enough. Do what needs to be done here.”
Taylor jerked as one of the doctors stuck her arm. Fear washed over her and she snapped against the restraints with a low howl. Sebastian swallowed hard, fighting to find his voice. His vision blurred.
“Taylor, shh, no. It’s okay,” he choked. “Don’t fight them.”
His pleas went unheeded in her panic. Understanding broke as he watched her buck and fight against the thick leather restraints holding her down. She didn’t understand where she was or what was happening. All she knew was she was strapped down and strange people were coming at her with needles and God knew what else. Unfortunately, her thrashing was unsettling Marx and putting the medical team on edge. Taylor’s panic intensified and the table nearly capsized as she bucked violently. One of the medical attendants fought to steady her and reach the IV.
Displeasure rode Marx’s craggy features as he approached. Sebastian planted himself between them and reached out, trying to ward the director off with one hand. He roared at the doctor as the little man tried to slip past.
“Just stop for a minute! You’re scaring her!”
“That’s enough, Baas!”
He stiffened at Marx’s curt bellow. Josh reached for his arm, but he veered out of the way. The sudden shift in movement caused the room to pitch in a dangerous swirl. He backpedaled and stumbled to the side, still attempting to steady himself, but it was too late. Sebastian crashed into one of the medical trays. Before he could reach it, the stand tipped and the stainless steel instruments tumbled and scattered, clattering loudly against the linoleum floor. Once again, he found himself stumbling out of his partner’s reach.
“I’m okay,” he said, shaking his head to clear his vision.
“Like hell you are,” Marx barked. “I’m not willing to risk losing you. Get in that bed.”
Sebastian squinted in the direction Marx pointed. He opened his mouth to argue, but the director cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“I allowed you to see your little girlfriend. Either you get your ass in that bed or I’ll put you both in separate rooms until you leave,” Marx snapped. “End of discussion.”
Taylor was crying. He winced at the increasing tempo of her heart monitor. The high-pitched beeps seemed to echo and reverberate through his skull. His stomach churned at her panic and the concern riding the faces of the team around her.
“Please, Taylor. You have to calm down. It’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay now. Trust me,” he begged, moving aside to give the doctor a clear path. As much as he wanted to stay with her, he knew Marx would make good on his threat.
At an adamant snap of his fingers and an emphatic point from the SKALS commander, he backed toward the other gurney. Annoyed and frustrated, he tried batting Josh away. His partner helped steady him, his dark brow gathering with worry. For the second time that day, he felt another man’s arm slip around him and shame suffused his core. Embarra
ssed heat stung his cheeks as Josh eased him onto the side of the bed.
Laying down, he craned his head to keep a close eye on what was happening to Taylor. Tight panic settled across his chest and squeezed the air from his lungs as he watched a small swarm of trained professionals scramble to assess and fix whatever was wrong. His eyes darted to Josh’s, almost begging the man to do something to make it right.
“Easy, Baas,” his partner coaxed.
“Stay with her.”
“You got it. Just take it easy. Let the staff do their job.”
Sighing, he sagged back against the stretcher. His jaw clenched as one of the attendants moved to secure his wrists. Restraints were no longer optional in the infirmary. One too many men had come through those doors feral and crazed after reconditioning, all too willing to lash out at the first thing that moved. Now, they were all considered armed and extremely dangerous. He clenched his teeth. While he was no longer the first, he was most certainly still the second.
Sebastian grunted as one of the leather straps cinched a little too tight for comfort and a rubber tourniquet bit into his arm, pinching the flesh as someone sought to find a vein. His eyes remained locked on Taylor, as the evening spun through his head in a rapid, but agonizing, loop. Cool liquid seeped through his system, and he fought with all he had to stay awake as the sedatives started to kick in. He felt his breathing slow and his lids start to grow heavy. Much like everything else tonight, it was a battle he wasn’t going to win.
Rhythmic ticking pulled Sebastian from the blissful cocoon of his slumber. Blinking several times against the gloom, his vision slowly came back into focus and he stared at the steady progression of the second hand as it marched across the face of the wall clock. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the cool, silent surroundings and the windowless metal door assured him he’d made it into recovery.
His throat felt dry and scratchy, his tongue thick and sticky in his mouth. Grimacing, he tried to swallow as his gaze darted around the room in a frantic quest for Taylor. The pounding in his chest and head intensified as he found the room empty except for Josh, who sat in a silent vigil beside him.
