Hot for His Hostage (23 page)

The questions continued. And who was Dr. Smythe? Stock’s partner? His enemy? Did Shay’s
mother know him? Work for him? Was
he
the reason she’d left so abruptly, eighteen years ago? Was he still here now?

As she wrestled with all the facets of the mystery, Zoe made sure to continue walking.
An object in motion was harder to catch, especially when it was a hostage disguised
as a nurse—

Unless that object noticed a distinct change in the hall’s air pressure.

She looked up to observe that she’d passed under a significant juncture in the hallway.
The connection looked like the entrance to a Rockefeller bank vault. Both walls and
the ceiling were reinforced by layers of steel. The double doors, also made of steel
and at least eighteen inches thick, were held open by a dozen cement blocks each.

Another glance around, taking in the marked section numbers overhead, confirmed what
she’d already suspected. She’d made her way into quadrant six. This was where “the
good shit” was happening, as Shay’s “buddy” had put it. Now to find Shay, without
him
finding
her
—but what then?

She could be like his guardian angel.
That was it.
Helping without his ever knowing it. There was no way he’d find his mom in this labyrinth,
plus keep up appearances with the other men, before Stock ordered the plane to take
off again. In the meantime, she’d also check out every escape route possible while
listening in on these
cabróns
’ conversations. Somebody was sure to mention where Brynn, El, Harmony and the others
were being held. Once she found out, she’d free them, too.

Vaya.
This was one of the best non-plans that she’d ever planned.

From behind the clipboard, she allowed herself a small smile of victory.

The next second, it was choked from her. Literally.

The beast that belonged to the arm across her throat knew exactly what he was doing.
Zoe’s scream, a logical reaction given the spectacle she’d just witnessed, was plugged
into a weak gurgle by a hand that constricted her windpipe at precisely the right
spot. Zoe fought the guy—the creature?—for about two seconds before realizing the
effort was useless. Instead, she concentrated on staying conscious as he hauled her
backward, barely stopping to kick back the door through which he dragged her.

Darkness swallowed her.

No. Not complete blackness. It was simply much dimmer than the glaring light of the
hallway. And quiet. Too quiet. She glimpsed a leather couch but when she inhaled,
an antiseptic smell hit her. The room seemed to be another medical setting with a
small living room attached.

Terror assaulted all over again. Zoe tried to scream but still couldn’t catch any
breath. A hidden reserve of strength rose when she thought of that couch again, and
how this asshole could pin her there. She twisted, managing to get her elbow into
his ribs, but it was a tiny win in a big-ass battle. The bear growled before spinning
her around, flattening her to the wall, and clamping one of his massive hands over
her mouth.

Her dread instantly turned into euphoria.

Shay wasn’t jumping so fast on that joy-joy ju-ju train. At all.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was a combination of a hiss and
a snarl. He wore his black wool ski mask again, only the thing was rolled back on
his head like a cap, somehow making him look more like a criminal. A really pissed
off one.

“What the hell do you think
you’re
doing?”

Zoe exchanged stunned blinks with him. Even if she had the breath to speak, the prickly
words wouldn’t have been her first choice.

They peered around together. From the shadows of the room, a woman emerged, shocking
Zoe by looking more miffed than Shay. She was older, perhaps in her fifties, but clearly
possessed an inner strength that enhanced her natural beauty. Her auburn hair was
pulled into a ponytail. Little wisps fell free from it, around the classic angles
of her face—

With dark gold eyes that looked exactly like Shay’s.

“
Ay Dios mio
.” Zoe gasped. “You—you’re—”

“Dr. Smythe,” the woman retorted. “Who the hell are you? And why are you wearing Justine’s
smock?”

Her jaw fell. “
You’re
the animal boy doctor?”

“I beg your pardon?” The woman pulled up her shoulders, which were encased in a cream
button-front shirt that showed off a delicate gold locket around her neck. “Look,
I don’t know who you are, and I don’t even care if you’re with Cameron. All I’m going
to tell you is that my name is Dr. Melanie Smythe, and—”

“No.” As Shay turned fully to her, he whipped the mask away from his head. His hair
tumbled free, instantly making him more recognizable—especially if his mother’s stunned
outcry was any barometer. “Your name is Dr. Melody Bommer, and I’m here to rescue
you.”

Shay was damn glad he had such a good hold on Zoe. No mistake about it, he was still
steamed as hell with her, but as a thousand emotions slammed him, it occurred that
the woman was possibly the only thing keeping him upright.

Especially as his mother’s furious mask dissolved in front of his eyes.

As she recognized him, she seemed to crumple from the inside out. Though he’d dreamed
of this moment for at least six months, it was sheer hell to keep holding her gaze—but
he did it, digging into fortitude he hadn’t accessed since the end of an eight-day
mission last year in Somalia. He smelled better now. He felt worse. Much more uncertain.
And a thousand times more scared.

“Oh my God.”

If it weren’t for the infusion of tears, his mother’s words would’ve been bare whispers.
He opened his mouth, intending to be strong and fill in the silence for her but had
to clamp his lips, gulping back his own damn fool sob.

“Oh my God.”

Zoe stepped back as Mom lifted a hand to his face. As her fingers trembled against
his jaw, he attempted the first tugs of a smile. “Hi, Mom.”

Her brilliant gaze scoured every corner of his face. The rest of her features didn’t
reveal anything else. What did she see? He’d been through hell in the last few days,
and probably looked like a mix of muddy wolverine and the floor of a teenager’s bedroom.
Was she happy? Proud? Disappointed? Maybe he fell short of what she expected. Or maybe
she really
had
left that night of her own choice, never wanting to know him and Tait ever again.

The seconds strained on as he waited for an answer.

Finally, without a word of preamble, she locked her other hand at the back of his
head and yanked him down against her. She still didn’t say a word. Maybe that was
because she was sobbing too hard.

Shay tasted salt on his face, too. He didn’t care. His tears came harder when he attempted
to suck in a full breath.

She still smelled like Juicy Fruit and sunshine.

“Shay,” she finally rasped. “My sweet, beautiful Shay.”

He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. And for one moment, didn’t let himself think
of anything but the joy in his heart…and the fulfillment in his soul.

It ended by Mom’s choice. On another little cry, this one full of agony, she pushed
him back. Then smacked his chest. “You shouldn’t be here! And when the hell did you
get so damn big?”

He stepped back, arching brows to match her indignation. “I’m not leaving without
you. And Mrs. Verona’s cookies have magic growth potion in them. Or so she always
told me.”

She lifted her hands again, bracing both sides of his face. “I want you to stay forever,
but as you probably know, that’s not possible.” Her fingers quivered again. So did
her lips. “I have no idea why you’re here—”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m here?”

“
Language
, young man.”

“Ow.” He rubbed his cheek where she’d pinched it. How had he forgotten how accurate
her aim was on those things? “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not young anymore.
And I’m here because of you.”

While his explanation didn’t make her freak out, she shot a defined huff that instantly
reminded him of Tait. She stepped back, averted her gaze, and jammed her hands into
her back pockets, also exactly like Tait. “Me? I don’t understand.”

Frustration clawed at him. He advanced back toward her. “I think you do, Mom.”

“Shay.” Zoe gently grabbed his elbow. “This would be shocking under normal circumstances.
Give her a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.”

She answered his retort with a blazing glare, muttering something in Spanish.
Shit
. He looked—and felt—like an asshole. It was a necessary job requirement in typical
mission situations, though this situation didn’t approach anything close to typical.
He was anxious as hell to get her and Mom out of here as fast as he could. Neither
of these women were the “norm” for him, in ways that sliced to the depths of his damn
soul. And if he didn’t make it out of this pressure cooker with both of them alive—

Fuck.

That possibility wasn’t acceptable. At all.

The recognition weakened him. And
that
perception froze him in place. He had Mom to thank for snapping him out of the shit.
Her accusing glare, flung at Zoe, realigned his attention.

“Who the hell are you?” She was clearly still hung up on Zoe’s stolen identity, though
he had to admit, his tiny dancer made even Garfield look fucking sexy.

“Mom, this is Zoe.” He wrapped a possessive hand around Zoe’s waist. “And she’s pretty
incredible.”

His mother worked her jaw back and forth. “You picked an awfully elaborate way to
introduce me to your girlfriend, Little B.”

“Shit.”

A blushed fired up his face as Zoe reined back a giggle. “‘Little B’?” she murmured.

“Yeah. And you can guess which asshat was ‘Big B’.” Despite his mortification, it
was tough to slide irritation over the words. He liked the “girlfriend” part of that.
A lot.

Mom’s glare returned. “Young man, when did your language hit the deep end of the gutter?”

“First day of boot camp.” He puffed out his chest a little when her anger burst into
a smile. “I’m Army Special Forces now, Mom. That’s why I’m here. Stock and his goons
know me as Shane Burnett. I’ve been undercover with them for six months, working with
intel from the CIA to get here…to you.”

“What?” she finally murmured.

“I’ve come to finally take you away from here, and…”

He trailed into silence once the sunshine of her smile started to fade. Something
wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the part where she wept harder, threw herself
into his arms, and told him how happy she was that her little boy had endured stomping
across the globe with a madman in order to finally find her.

Instead, Mom uncurled her arms as if they’d turned to lengths of chain, took two leaden
steps then hugged him with heavy solemnity. “I can’t go with you, Shay.”

He grimaced from the scythe of grief hitting his chest. He tried imagining the blade
as a reality, cutting him away from her so he could step back. No fucking go. “Can’t,”
he finally grated, “or won’t?”

Hell. Could he have been so wrong about all this? Could Colton and the other spooks
have corroborated his theory in error, too? Was their intel that wrong? Their combined
brain power that misled?

Had Dad been right all those years ago?

Had Mom really left them in the middle of the night…willingly?

Her soft sob told him nothing. “Oh, my brave boy. My sweet Shay.”

He swallowed hard and steeled his posture against her embrace. “Yeah. Right. Who’s
not
feeling so sweet right now.” At least he got that out with some force. He couldn’t
show her the quicksand of his heart right now. And the way she’d tossed his soul right
into that disheartened mush, too.

“I know.” Her empathetic croon didn’t help one fucking bit, either. How many times
had he longed for that voice in his ear? How many knee scrapes, nightmares, and heartaches
had he lived through without her near? How many Christmas mornings had he and Tait
lighted their little plastic tree and handed each other presents wrapped in aluminum
foil, singing the enhanced version of the Rudolph song because it had always made
her laugh? And now she had the nerve to talk to him like that, like she
understood
the loss and longing that ripped at his very core?

“No, Mom. I don’t think you do.”

She bent her head back to gaze up at him. “I love you so much, Little B. And Tait,
too.” Her hand traveled to the locket at her throat. He was close enough to see that
the front of it was engraved with two ornate letters:
T
and
S
. “But this is more complicated than you can know or comprehend. There are lives at
stake. Lives I saved by coming here.”

“Valuable enough to leave your sons?”

Her gaze glittered with fresh tears. With a shaky hand, she reached to him, tentatively
pressing his hand between her own “Your lives were at the top of the list, Shay.”

Zoe gasped something in Spanish. For a long moment, he was grateful to let that sound
consume the air. God knew, whatever erupted from his throat wouldn’t be so eloquent.
Not that there’d be anything there, considering the scythe now had a companion: a
battle axe of shock.

“What?” The word was as raw and wounded as his spirit. And it served as a shitty stand-in
for all the questions he actually needed to ask. He’d detained enough people on missions
to know when he was dealing with someone concealing a much bigger story—even his own
mother. Her eyes, darkened to the shade of pennies, told him everything…and nothing.

She definitely, positively, wasn’t here by choice.

She definitely, positively, wasn’t leaving here of free will, either.

But why? What the hell was going on? What had he and Colton
not
unearthed about why Cameron had kept her here—and now, why she refused to leave?

Before he had the chance to ask her a single question, a
boom
shook the whole building. Glass jars rattled in the laboratory part of the room.
Shay knew the sound all too well, though that didn’t stop it from frying his nerves.

Instinctively, he yanked both women close and muttered, “Mortar blast.”

Zoe, with eyes showing more white than color, tucked herself against him. After his
statement, her skin followed suit. She grabbed him harder as another explosion hit.
“
Caramba
. What the hell is happening?”

Before Shay could start on an answer, the door to the hall slammed open. A guy filled
the portal who, for all intents and purposes, was a walking chunk of a Badlands cliff
hacked into the shape of a man. The guy shut the door without looking back, stalking
closer with his hard-hewn face set in a determined scowl. Though the fucker was dressed
in sand-colored fatigues and a matching T-shirt that outlined every vein in his muscles,
his gait reminded Shay of a forty-something, nasty-ass komodo dragon. The suspicion
wasn’t helped when Mom ran into the man’s arms.

“What is it?” she queried the guy. Her tone didn’t mirror Tait now. It was all Zoe
in its no-nonsense strength.
Spare the damn sugar
.

“Company’s arrived.” The walking cliff sounded like one, too. “And it seems they don’t
care for the cheese in the fondue pot.”

Mom’s shoulders visibly tensed. “You were good to warn everyone that this might happen.”

He nodded tightly. “We knew what to expect.” His gaze lifted and pinned to Shay. “You’re
one of Cam’s guys, right? What the fuck’re you doing, bothering Dr. S?”

“Gabriel.” Mom soothed a hand down his arm. “I want to introduce you to someone very
important to me.”

Cliff Man took that in with a short grunt. At the same time, he swung his bright green
eyes in the fastest head-to-toe assessment Shay had ever endured, taking only a second
to note his resemblance to Mom.

“Huh,” Gabriel muttered. “Well, weren’t you clever, making the Cameron Stock connection
and using it.” He narrowed his gaze. “So’re you Tait or Shay?”

At least ten smart-ass comebacks came to mind but Shay nixed them all. Mom didn’t
make it a secret that she held the guy in high esteem. As in the pedestal-worshipping
kind. “Shay,” he replied. “And this is my—uhhh—friend, Zoe. It’s nice to meet you…Gabriel,
right?”

The guy didn’t return his offered handclasp. “Ghid.”

“What?”

“It’s Ghid,” he countered. “Pronounced ‘geed.’” He didn’t waver his stare through
a meaningful pause.

“Sure.” Shay shrugged. “So that’s as in…what? Not your real name. Stand-in for your
gamer name or something?”

The guy grunted again. “As in Ghidorah, the only dragon who made Godzilla shit his
pants. I don’t have time to play games.”

“Yeah.” Shay finally let a subtle snarl of his own unfurl. “I know Ghidorah.” Classic
monster weekends at the movies had made sure of that. “He was a nasty motherfucker
with three heads.” And thinking of this grouchy dickwad with
any
of his “heads” near Mom…

Shit
.

“Can you two save the pissing contest for another occasion?” Mom yelled over the thunder
from another detonating mortar. “I think we’ve got bigger concerns.”

“Damn straight,” Ghid growled. “Like getting your ass out of here.”

Shay gave a grim smirk. “
There’s
something to agree on.”

Ghid took Mom by the elbow. “The sooner we get you to the roof and the helipad, the
better. Trinity’s got the chopper juiced and ready. Sounds like those Special Forces
suckwits only have a few more taps of the battering ram left until they’re fully in.”

So much for seeing eye-to-eye with the bastard. “What the fuck?” Shay snapped. “That’s
Special Forces out there?”

“Dammit.” Mom grimaced. “I thought Cameron had things under control.”

“Yeah, well.” Ghid’s face barely changed despite the dry overtone. “Guess his fondue
wasn’t a tasty treat, either.”