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“Actually, it is.”
The director prowled closer and he caught a whiff of the fear and death bathing the man. The same cloying smell lingered in the section housing the interrogation and reconditioning cells. It was a sickeningly sweet odor that soured the stomach and permeated the building. There were nights no amount of scrubbing seemed to purge the smell away.
He lifted his chin as the director’s dark eyes narrowed.
“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Agent Baas, and assume my rather unfortunate mishap has nothing to do with you or your aversion to the policy changes I’ve been making.”
Fighting a terse smirk, he shrugged while Josh gaped at him in disbelief. “Of course not. I was hosting dinner for Taylor’s mother, though I won’t say that I’m surprised. Karma has a way of biting us all when we least expect it.”
The hulking director grunted beneath his breath, his demeanor far from amused. “That she does. Round the men up. We’re heading out. You have ten minutes. I expect everyone geared and ready to go.”
Sweat pooled against the small of Sebastian’s back despite the cool breeze whipping around him. Keeping his sights trained on the scenery below, he tried to ignore the commander’s suffocating presence. The lack of conversation offered little reprieve as he watched the isolated stretch of desert give way to lush stretches of greenery and the loud, rhythmic whir of the helicopter blades churned overhead. With each passing moment, the blood only seemed to quicken in his veins. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and rested his head against the back of his seat. An eerie ripple of static electricity moved continuously across his skin, adding to his discomfort. He’d felt it enough times to know it was a silent warning, his body’s way of cautioning him against hidden danger, but there was nothing to do now but wait and see how this day unfolded.
A firm nudge to his ribs jarred him and he whipped his head to the side to glare at Marx through narrowed slits as the chopper settled into the middle of an open field.
“Rest on your own time, Agent Baas. You’re not getting paid to sleep.”
Marx’s voice boomed through his headset, setting his teeth on edge. He wanted nothing more than to rip the man’s throat out. Eager to escape, he ripped his headset free. The tall, reedy grass was still undulating beneath the forceful currents when he hit his feet. Straightening his gear, he squinted against the stinging grit of dirt and sand kicking up from the earth and crossed the field to meet Josh as the other copter landed. His partner jumped out and greeted him with a solid clap on the back.
“Look at you all eager to be buddy-buddy with me. It must be true what they say. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.”
Sebastian grunted as the blades shut down. “Don’t flatter yourself. Marx has a way of making even your company seem good.”
“Like a moth to a flame, Baas. Like a moth to the flame.”
Josh countered his glower with an unrepentant grin. Fighting a smirk, Sebastian resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his partner’s constant ribbing.
“Just bear in mind what happens when the moth circles too close,” he warned.
His partner offered an affable shrug in response. “They can’t all be happy endings.”
Pondering that, Sebastian wrested his gaze away from the man in time to watch Marx stride across the field. Thick muscles strained against the confines of his black fatigues and, with his broad shoulders lowered, their commander resembled a bull preparing to level everything in its path. Josh and the others took note of this as well and quickly fell into formation beside him. A cold smile carved its way across Marx’s stern features as he came to a stop in front of them.
“I don’t know where to begin with you, gentlemen,” Marx drawled. Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned and strolled down the line. “I have pushed and prodded you all time and again, yet you fail to meet my expectations. I would say this poses a bit of a dilemma for us all now, doesn’t it?”
Their eyes locked and, bracing himself, Sebastian lifted his chin and waited.
“The priorities around here have been slipping and your work ethics are lax,” the director continued. His dark stare brimmed with silent accusation as it flickered their way. “This team needs to pick up its pace and sharpen its skills, both mental and otherwise. I’m sick of asking you to do your jobs, gentleman. Since you can’t seem to motivate yourselves, I’ve decided to do it for you.”
Josh lowered his head. Taut silence hung over the squad. Even the leaves seemed to still in the wake that followed.
“All of you hand over your phones, now.”
The vehemence in Marx’s voice warned there was no room for debate. Tugging his cellphone from his pocket, Sebastian tried to keep his rising panic under control. The light lunch he’d scarfed down burned like acid in his gut. One by one, Marx dropped their phones into a bag, his expression shifting into one of grim satisfaction as he cinched the sack tight.
“Hidden somewhere in these woods is a target. Your objective is to find them. It’s that simple, boys.”
“Who and what are we looking for, sir?” Bradley asked.
Glancing his way, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He was a goddamn fool for sounding so chipper. Marx was pissed and when he was mad, people died. No amount of bravado or ass kissing was going to change that.
The director’s lips quirked into a calculating smile. His eyes remained as hard and unchanging as granite. “They are someone we’ve interrogated in the past. I’m dividing you into two teams. The first one to locate and deliver said target wins.”
“What’s the catch?” Wes asked.
Marx strolled in front of them, his light chocolate skin glistening beneath the sunlight. “I believe I made my intentions clear when I said the proper motivation would be given, gentlemen. One of you will be minus a friend or family member at the end of the day. The teams have already been decided and one person from each side sequestered. Those people have been chosen at random but, needless to say, two of you gentlemen stand much to lose should you fail today.”
A hushed silence fell over the group and they exchanged uneasy glances. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Sebastian fought to stay standing. Fear jacked-up his pulse until the blood reverberated in his ears. He could no longer hear what Marx was saying. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The only thing he could think about was Taylor and how he had no way of knowing where she was now or if she was safe. His eyes snapped to their commander’s face, searching for some clue, someth
ing that would reveal who he’d taken.
Marx was too smart for that. The director’s stony countenance revealed nothing. He wanted his men to sweat.
Had he taken Taylor?
Sebastian’s stomach knotted. What about Monique? That was his sister, his blood, and she meant the world to Josh. Taking her would level them both in a single blow.
That sick, twisted fuck had gone too far this time, pushed to many boundaries. Stunned silence hung over the rest of the squad. He trembled, fighting desperately to keep his tangled emotions in check, but there was so much damn fear. So much panic. Then the anger hit. But it wasn’t just anger this time; it was a full-blown combustion—a culmination of all the pain and suffering Marx had inflicted over the years and all the times he’d choked his emotions down and endured them in silence.
His fists locked as images of Lucian and his nephew flashed unbidden through his mind. He remembered screaming for hours, punching and clawing at the concrete walls until his hands bled, pouring every bit of guilt-ridden anguish into that cell when they’d delivered the news that Marx had killed them. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he remembered visiting Christian’s grave. It had ripped him apart to see that tiny mound entombed beneath the cold winter snow and to read the names of the people he loved chiseled into stone. He’d buried a part of him that day. A part he would never get back.
He. Couldn’t. Do it. Again.
One hand flew to the pistol holstered at his hip. His other arm swung back, knocking Josh square across his chest hard enough to send the man staggering. A noise both animalistic and foreign to his own ears escaped him as he yanked his gun free. Surprise flickered briefly across the director’s face before it darkened beneath a wave of worry and rage. The heavy line of Marx’s brow lowered and, taking a step back, he brandished his own weapon.
A loud chorus of shouts erupted around him as Sebastian cocked the hammer and took aim. Marx wasted no time doing the same.
