Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) (12 page)

A few moments later Rycroft materialized out of the bushes and hunkered down next to the body. He pulled out a device from his pocket and took digital images of the man’s fingerprints, then got on his phone while Bautista provided overwatch. “Zahra. Run these prints right away through every system we have, and let me know if you get a hit.”

He put the phone and device away, stood and took a cautious look around before tapping his earpiece to contact Briar. “We’ve got more company out here,” he murmured. “One more shooter for sure, maybe others, I couldn’t be sure from the tracks. We need to get the target to the vehicle immediately,” he finished, his tone urgent.

“Copy that,” Briar answered. “Moving out of the tunnel exit now.”

Bautista turned and ran for the secret tunnel exit. The sooner they got Georgia out of here, the better.

Georgia’s head snapped up when it began to droop for the third time in the back of the SUV. After Miguel had taken out the other shooter, they’d moved her to the vehicle they’d left in a farmer’s shed when they’d first arrived.

It humiliated her that she hadn’t been able to keep up on her own. There was nothing she hated more than being helpless. A few minutes into the trek Miguel had put her across his shoulders and carried her the rest of the way, just to keep the pace.

“You should sleep,” he said to her now, seated beside her in the backseat.

She shook her head stubbornly. They’d helped her, yes, but technically they were still holding her against her will and she didn’t like it. First chance she got, she was making a break for it.

No matter how exhausted she was, no matter that she had history and some level of trust for the three of them, she knew it wasn’t smart to let her guard down. And until they were honest with her about what they wanted from her, she wasn’t telling them anything.

“How much longer until we reach the safe house?” she asked.

“Couple hours,” Rycroft answered from behind the wheel as he drove along the nearly deserted mountain road. He hadn’t said a word about where they were headed and she was too tired to fight with him about it.

She knew it would be useless anyway. The man had been former SF and was one of the toughest interrogators she’d ever met.

She’d found that out firsthand when he’d taken her into custody last December. She’d been lucky he’d let her go in exchange for the intel she’d shared back then, rather than charging her and locking her up.

She should have known then that he wasn’t done with her yet.

Now that she was warm, dry and safe—well, relatively speaking, anyway—all she wanted to do was collapse into a heap and rest. But a couple hours more? She wasn’t sure she could force herself to stay awake that long.

God, she was tired. And sore. At least her stomach was feeling a little better now. She was almost hungry. Maybe she could eat something, then sleep a bit.

“Here,” Miguel murmured, and reached into a bag behind him to pull out a protein bar. “Can you eat a little?”

She eyed it, then met his gaze, felt the impact of it deep inside her. Even now she had to fight the invisible pull drawing her to him.

She’d slept with this man. Laid herself bare to him for those few hours in a way she’d never done with anyone else.

At some point they’d have to have a long overdue conversation about what had happened. She dreaded it as much as she needed it. She was insanely curious why he’d come on this job, and what sort of deal he’d taken.

“Maybe.” Murmuring a thank you, she accepted it and took a small nibble. Her stomach growled, desperate for food. She hoped it stayed down.

Someone’s cell phone went off. Rycroft immediately pulled his out and answered. “Yeah, okay,” he said after a moment, and his tone was so dark that Georgia looked at him in the rearview mirror. His expression was full-on pissed. “Keep digging and don’t alert anyone else. I’ll handle this myself.”

“What?” Briar asked him when he hung up.

“Zahra got a hit on our shooter.” He paused a second. “His ID was buried deep, she needed to use all the tricks that come with her top secret security clearance and then call in a few favors to find out who he was. Apparently he was a CIA asset. Went off grid about a year ago and this is the first time he’s turned up since.”

Georgia frowned. “Any idea who he’s working for?”

Rycroft met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m betting he’s still on The Company’s payroll.”

The words only confirmed her own suspicions, but a chill snaked up her spine anyway. She turned her gaze out the window and watched the darkened landscape pass by in a blur. Soon her eyelids began to droop and her head began to loll.

Her head snapped up at a rustling sound and a second later a rolled up jacket appeared before her. “Here. Use this.”

She hesitated a moment, then took it. “Thanks,” she murmured, and tucked it beneath her head to rest against the doorframe.

The scents of leather and the uniquely masculine spice that was Miguel filled her nose, instantly transporting her back to that night they’d spent together, but also reminding her of the first time she’d seen him smile. Really smile. At the nursing home.

Georgia had been puttering around his grandmother’s room, dusting her picture frames and watering her plants. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been talking to him about but when she’d looked over her shoulder at him, she’d found him smiling at her. It had startled her so much she’d just stared at him, holding her breath at the beauty of it, a current of warmth curling deep in her belly.

That was the first time she’d seen the man behind the mask, and right then she’d known that
el Santo
wasn’t a monster at all.

Georgia had never gotten over him. Having him this close with a mountain of questions and mistrust between them was torture.

It went against everything ingrained in her to sleep in an uncertain situation like this. She let herself drift, not surrendering to the lure of the deep sleep her body craved, but allowing a light doze. Only to wake what felt like seconds later when the SUV took the sharp curve in the mountain road.

Miguel reached across the seat to undo her seatbelt and grab the jacket. He set it in his lap then wrapped a hand around her right shoulder and pulled. “Lie down. Sleep a while.” His tone was commanding, a little gruff and she could tell he was annoyed at her stubbornness.

They weren’t out to hurt her, she realized that. And she still trusted him deep down, even though it was crazy given their history. Sleep was what she needed most right now. It would give her a chance to recharge, hopefully let her body flush the last of the poison from her system, and get her energy back.

And the truth was, she wanted to be close to him. She’d missed him terribly. This gave her the perfect excuse to steal a little more time with him.

Pushing away from the door, she curled up on her side and laid her head in his lap on top of the jacket, allowed her eyes to close and this time, let go. Just as she was about to slide under, she thought she felt the gentle sweep of a hand over her hair.

Sometime later she woke when the vehicle slowed to turn a corner. She sat up, took a groggy look around and fought to clear the fog from her brain. They were in a residential neighborhood, with neat rows of two-story houses with tidy, manicured lawns and gardens. Suburbia at its finest.

Rycroft turned left at the next street and drove to the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, pulling into the driveway of the last house on the right. Immediately the garage door opened and he drove inside, parked next to a gray SUV.

“Had a friend of mine check everything out for us,” Rycroft said by way of explanation. Before he’d even shut off the engine the door leading into the house opened and a man stepped through it.

He was tall, over six feet, and built, with short reddish-blond hair. The black T-shirt he wore stretched over wide shoulders and chest ripped with muscle and revealed the full sleeves of tats that ran the length of both arms.

Rycroft got out and shook hands with him. Both of them were grinning, seemed at ease together. When he gestured for the others to get out, Georgia slid out of the back and stood off to the side as Rycroft made the introductions.

“This is Gage Wallace,” he said. “He’s with Titanium Security.”

Georgia had heard of the company. Founded by a former SEAL, they now provided security contractors for various ops around the world, but specialized in the Middle East.

“We’ve worked together in the past and I sometimes call him up when I need a favor.”

“You know I love doing you favors. Only excitement I get these days.” Wallace acknowledged each of them with a nod, his bright blue eyes sharp. “Everything’s ready. Claire’s just stocking the upstairs bathrooms.” He gave a small smile that softened his face completely. “She’s got the place set up like a hotel now, complete with hand towels, facecloths and little travel soaps.”

The door opened again and a blonde appeared there. She smiled at them and turned a glare at Wallace. “I heard that. Only excitement you get these days? So being married to me is boring now?”

“No, never boring,” he answered, scooping her up in one big arm and giving her a squeeze. “Just miss the action of the old days sometimes, that’s all.”

“I know you do.” She turned her gaze on Rycroft, gave him a grin as she shook a warning finger. “But he’s officially retired, so don’t be thinking you can bring him back into anything. Including whatever this is,” she finished, indicating the rest of them with a wave of her hand.

Wallace chuckled. “She’s a little protective of me,” he said, sounding amused.

“Well someone has to be. I swear your guardian angel must be a raving alcoholic.”

He grinned down at her. “Well you can relax now. I’m out of the game.” His gaze slid to Rycroft. “Officially speaking. Unless something really important comes up.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and though Georgia didn’t know him, she could tell he was hopeful.

“Wouldn’t dream of asking you to get back into the game,” Rycroft answered in a tone that was clearly sardonic. “Claire, meet Briar, Miguel and Georgia. Everyone, this is Claire, Gage’s keeper.”

The blonde smiled at them all. “Hi. Well come on inside and get settled in. I thought you guys might be hungry so I put a lasagna in the oven when we got here. Should be ready in another hour or so, and there’s some salad and other stuff in the fridge.”

Georgia followed Briar inside the house, acutely aware of Miguel right behind her. The moment they entered the kitchen the scents of basil and roasted tomatoes filled the air. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered.

Rycroft must have heard it because he looked back at her, his expression calm. “Go on upstairs and sleep awhile longer. I’ll see about getting a doctor to—”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

He gave her a dubious look.

“I don’t. I’m already way better than I was. At least, before the tranq dart,” she added with a pointed look at Miguel.

“Sorry. Already called one and he’s on his way. I want him to look you over, take some blood samples so we can verify what’s wrong with you. If it’s poison and we can find out which kind it is, we might be able to get a better idea of who did it.”

Okay, that part was actually pretty smart. “Fine.”

His phone rang. He picked up, listened. “Perfect timing, we just got in. We’ll be expecting you.” Rycroft ended the call. “That was the doc. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Georgia plunked herself down in a chair at the table, took the meds Briar passed her and waited for the doctor. The mid-fortyish man came in, checked her vitals, drew some blood and promised to get the results back to them as soon as they came back from the lab.

“You need fluids and rest,” he told her. “Clear fluids, no dairy and nothing solid for a day or two.”

When he left Rycroft nodded toward the stairs. “Go up and get some more sleep. We’ll get you something light to eat after you wake up, if you’re up to it. After that, we’ve got some things to talk about.”

The warning tone sent a frisson of foreboding through her. Glancing at Gage and Claire, who were watching her with open curiosity, she turned and headed for the stairs. Footsteps behind her made her swing around. Briar was ten feet behind her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Following you to your room.”

Oh, for— “I guess you plan on watching me sleep, too, to make sure I don’t try to escape?”

She shrugged. “I know you too well. And it’ll be just like old times. We can stay up all night talking the way we used to.”

Yeah, Briar did know her too well, and right now that pissed Georgia off. “You’re the ones who kidnapped me, so don’t expect me to tell you anything.”

She paused and looked back at Rycroft, still standing in the kitchen with the others. He stared right back, completely unapologetic. She could feel the added weight of Miguel’s stare, pressing on her.

“Fine,” she muttered, and continued up the stairs.

But a part of her wished that if she had to have a babysitter to keep watch inside the bedroom, that it could be Miguel instead. And she was all too aware that whenever she left her room, her reprieve would be over.

Fortunately she wouldn’t have to endure their company—and questions—much longer. As soon as she was well enough, she was getting out of here and finishing her mission.

Alone.

****

The bedroom door opened just as Bautista raised a hand to knock. He stepped back as Briar came forward, his gaze automatically sliding behind her to Georgia. She must have just taken a shower, because her golden brown hair was damp around her shoulders. Her cheeks were still flushed. Even sick she was striking.

“Feeling any better?” he asked as Briar edged past him into the hallway. Georgia had been asleep for a long time, almost twelve hours.

She nodded, her blue eyes clearer than he’d seen them since they found her. “Much.”

Wanting to judge for himself, he reached out and placed a palm on her forehead. She froze at his touch, her expression closing completely. He lowered his hand. “You’re still warm.”