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“I know. None of this is for sure, baby. Just a hunch. It just scares the hell out of me to think he’s been plotting this whole thing from the beginning.”
“You think this was his plan all along?”
“He’s a smart man, almost brilliant at times. As chilling as it is, it would make sense. He’s been training us from the start to be brutal, sadistic, unfeeling killers. We’re his own personal army with a hunger for violence and blood. If that has been his intent, things will get ugly. He’s not one to sit back and wait, and the government isn’t one to let people step on its toes. Marx will want to make a move soon, and I can’t see that heading anywhere good.”
Taylor’s knuckles ached from the death grip she kept on the blanket. Her throat felt swollen, closed off, and dry. Her mind spun in time with the dizzying side effects of her concussion. Whatever air she’d managed to suck in escaped her in a shallow wheeze.
“If he does make a play for power, he’s going to use SKALS as reinforcement,” she whispered.
Lowering his head, Sebastian nodded.
The General’s chicken she’d eaten earlier pitched and rolled in her belly, turning her thoughts to the unborn child within. An icy shiver ran through her as she imagined the world with Marx at its helm. That kind of existence, the suffering and torture that would follow, it was what nightmares were made of. She tried to wet her lips to no avail.
Squeezing Sebastian’s hand, she lifted her eyes to his. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “It’s a heavy accusation to make and there is a lot riding on my shoulders right now. The truth can be a terrifying thing. Especially when you’ve built your entire life around something. Not everyone will want to hear what I have to say, let alone be willing to accept it. Some of the men…” he frowned, lowered his head, and sloughed his weary features. “Some of them would want Marx to move in that direction. They’d love nothing more than to have free reign to be as violent and ruthless as they please. Men crave power, Taylor, and if I’m right about what he’s about to do, this is going to rip SKALS apart from the inside out.”
The anguish in his voice broke her heart as much as the situation they faced.
“Either way, Marx is out of control. He’s losing his grip. He’s a threat to my country and my family. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him. Pressing her cheek against his, she closed her eyes. He reached up and hugged her tight.
“I will support you in whatever you decide to do, Sebastian.”
“There are no easy paths here, baby. No easy roads to take.”
“I know,” she murmured. “But things have never been easy for either of us. Maybe…maybe this is the start of us finding a better way.”
“I want that,” he said, turning and gently cupping her face between his hands. “I want that so much. I want to watch our little one grow up without the fear of them becoming a target or overstepping Marx’s bounds. I dream of a life where I don't want to hyperventilate every time you leave the gates," he said with a sad smile.
Her body jerked with a small laugh. “Now you might be asking for a bit too much.”
Tilting his head, he searched her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think there will ever come a time when you don’t want to hyperventilate when I leave the house,” she teased.
It was slow at first, and pained, but a genuine grin inched across his face. “You’re probably right there.”
“I doubt it’s going to get any better once the baby comes.”
“Not likely, darling,” he agreed in a husky murmur. “I love you both way too much to lose you.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. Taylor scrunched her face and smiled as he settled his forehead against hers.
“It wasn’t much, but do you feel better for sharing?” she asked.
His husky laugh rolled through the room and wrapped around her heart.
“No,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have told you any of the things I did. But I do appreciate the fact that you know you need to be a little more cautious and aware. You can’t trust anyone anymore, baby. Now more than ever, I need you to keep that in mind.”
“I will, Seb. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“More than careful, Taylor,” he warned.
“Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up her fingers in a solemn swear.
He snorted in amusement before reluctantly releasing his hold. “Enough about work. I’m going to take this stuff into the kitchen and pick up. When I come back, we’re going to do what we should have been doing all along.”
“And what would that be?” she asked, wiggling a brow.
Standing, he winked. “Enjoying each other and this little bit of time we have.”
~*~*~*~
Sebastian prowled the length of his office, well aware of the uneasiness rippling through Vincent Pellagreeni as the man tracked his every move. His eyes darted over the freshly lacquered floor, searching for any sign of the menacing stains that had saturated the space only hours before. Like so many other things, SKALS had done an excellent job of eradicating any traces of its existence, no matter how minute. He found himself plagued by a brief stab of guilt as he wondered who those men were—if they had families or a scruffy dog anxiously waiting at home. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, he refocused his attention on the task at hand.
“Please tell me you have come up with something,” he stated, strolling around his desk to drop into his seat.
Vince shifted uncomfortably in front of him, his eyes never wavering from the floor. “I got nothing, Baas. Marx is keeping whatever this is under total wraps and on lockdown. He brought in a handful of new recruits after you left. I was assuming it was to replace the guards you killed, but that wasn’t the direction they were headed. He took them on the extended tour of the west wing.”
His eyes narrowed briefly upon hearing that bit of info
rmation. The west wing was where new squad members were inducted into SKALS. It also housed a special row of cells used for interrogations and reconditioning. Guards tended to escape a little easier and usually detoured to the right.
“How many were there?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Six or eight. Maybe more.”
Definitely not guards then. He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Vince’s sandy brow furrowed in a show of confusion.
“I read people for a living, Vincent. Stop making me drag things out of you today. My patience is already at a minimum.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. It’s just unnerving and I’m afraid you might find the situation disturbing.”
Sebastian snorted and leaned back in his seat. The chair creaked as it rocked into a gentle recline. “As compared to what exactly?”
“Good point,” Vince muttered. “I came across an invoice issued last week. He’s ordered five more helicopters. All military grade armed with heavy artillery and precision scopes.”
The bottle sitting on the corner of his desk was starting to look more and more appealing. For a moment, he stared at it, tempted to give into its sweet siren’s song. It promised at least a few seconds of relief and mind numbing oblivion. Growling low in the base of his throat, Sebastian tipped his head back and rubbed the underside of his jaw. He really needed to shave. A few more days and he’d be eligible for Grizzly Adams tryouts.
“So he is gearing up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say he is gearing up, sir.”
“Really?” Sebastian asked. His expression was skeptical, his eyes fierce and probing. “And what would you call it?”
“A few minor purchases?” Vince asked, the uncertainty in his voice making it come across in the tone of a hopeful question.
“When there is nothing wrong with the equipment we have?” Standing, he made his way to the window. His eyes searched the grounds, looking for any subtle changes he may have missed. Seeing nothing but the usual desert, walls, and barbed wire, he turned his attention back to Vince. “No. Marx isn’t one to waste resources or money. He’s starting to prepare. He may be starting out small, but he’s always expanded at a rapid rate. Today it’s a helicopter or two. Next month it’s an army. When SKALS first started out, it was a two-man team. Look what he’s managed to turn that into.”
