23
Never say goodbye.
Buzz. Buzz.
Killian scowled. That was one thing that drove him crazy about South Florida.
Bugs.
Buzz. Buzz.
He pulled the warm body closer, rewarded with a whispered moan in his ear.
Buzz. Buzz.
Killian bolted up in bed, finally awake and fully alert, recognizing the buzz sound for what it was. He stole a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand.
Two in the morning.
He snatched his phone vibrating across the tabletop and stared at the display. Every muscle in Killian’s body stiffened as he answered the call.
“I fucked up,” Dex gasped over the line.
Killian flung himself out of bed, grabbing his pants thrown over the back of the chair in the corner. “Where are you?”
“What’s going on?” Nick asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“They found out I was poking around. Asking questions about Petrov.” Each word sounded forced, as if it took every ounce of effort to speak. Something had happened to him and left him in pain. “I swear I didn’t say anything.”
“Where the hell are you, Dex?” Killian threw open his closet door and yanked a shirt from the hanger, struggling to ignore how everything in his chest felt as if it were getting squeezed through his throat.
“Tell Aly I love her.” Dex quieted, the effort required to speak each word draining some of the punch in his voice. “Promise me…just tell her—”
“No. You’re telling her.” Killian slid on his shoulder holster and grabbed his guns, scowling as he watched Nick quickly dress. “Where are you?”
“Don’t come. His men are here.” His voice was weakening as he spoke, his breath coming in gasps. “I’m sorry…I didn’t see them following me. I swear…I didn’t say anything. Please…tell Aly.”
“Where are you?”
“Just tell her… Please.”
The line disconnected before Killian had a chance to respond.
“Ian, where is he?”
Killian swiped his finger on his phone, calling up the app and pinging the signal of Dex’s phone. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled. He raced out of the bedroom and snatched his keys from the table by the door. Finally, the dots blinked on the map displayed on his phone.
“I’m going with you.”
Killian’s entire body jolted to attention. He spun around. Nick was now fully dressed and just as alert as he was. “What? Hell no.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Nick said with a firm glare. “We can do this all night. You’re not going there alone. Especially if Petrov’s men are there.”
“You heard all that?”
“Please don’t argue with me on this.” Nick cupped Killian’s face in his hands. “Dex is hurt. I’m a doctor. You’re a logical man.”
“They’re pissed and Petrov wants you. You’re a logical man. You know exactly why you should stay here.”
“And you know I can’t stay here if I know he’s hurt and I can help.”
Killian planted his hands on his hips and looked upward, begging for a shot of patience to come bolting through the ceiling like some mystical power.
“Dex needs us,” Nick said.
His body warred with the turmoil brewing inside. He could probably do some temporary patchwork on Dex, but if he was as bad as he sounded, there was no way he would be able to help, especially if whoever had done that to him was still there.
“You’re not going alone.”
Killian scrubbed his fingers against his hair. We’re wasting time. He was fighting a losing battle with this stubborn man, and each second that passed could make all the difference in Dex’s fate. “For fuck’s sake. You’re stubborn.”
“So are you. Now, let’s go.”
═ ☼ ═
“I want you to stay in the car.”
Nick rolled his eyes. Again.
The fifteen-minute drive, racing on the highways and backroads had been a true test of his patience. Ian either remained quiet, brooding as he drove, or mumbling something about being weak, stupid, and dick-whipped.
“I’m not staying in the car.”
It was ridiculous to sit here, debating a losing battle, wasting precious seconds while Dex’s life was at stake. But they had to wait until those two cars, and those men arguing by them, drove away from the door to the airplane hangar. Nick turned his body toward Ian in the driver’s seat, wishing he could erase the undeniable tension thrumming through his body. It was pointless. Ian was far too stressed out, obvious by his ramrod straight back and tight grip on the steering wheel.
Ian kept his stare on the cars by the visible entryway as he spoke. “You’re going to stay here. I’ll find Dex and bring him out to you. Then you can do whatever doctor thing you need to do to him.”
“Look at me.”
Ian’s jaw muscle twitched.
“I said…look. At. Me.” The dominant tone in his voice always worked its way through the hard man’s facade. But at this moment, it wasn’t about breaking Ian’s defenses and unlocking that possessive need between them. Nick needed Ian to listen to reason.
The tic in his jaw was now in nonstop convulsions mode, but Ian refused to tear his gaze away from the hangar’s door as he spoke. “You know those movies you like to watch,” Ian said, his tone controlled, slow, and steady.
“Yeah?”
“You know that part when the person goes down an alley or into a dark room, and you’re yelling at them that they’re crazy or that they should be running the other way?”
“Yeah.”
Ian whipped his head to the side to face him in a move so sudden, Nick flinched. “This is one of those moments. I need you to stay in the car.”
“You made me wear your vest—”
“Because you refuse to carry a fucking gun! How the hell else am I going to protect you if you don’t stay in the fucking car?” Ian tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his breath whooshing out of his flaring nostrils.
Nick sighed. Over the last few months, he had discovered several sides to this complex man. But there, in that instant, the palpable worry and fear in Ian’s tone was something new. And Nick sensed Ian was just as surprised by it as he had been.
He reached out and stroked the back of Ian’s neck. “I can defend myself.”
“Not against a bullet,” Ian mumbled, closing his eyes with a deep exhale, as if the fight had left his body with the contact.
Nick stroked his thumb along Ian’s skin, hoping to calm this sudden tension between them. “I’ve taken an oath to save lives. To help and heal when I can. And that means going in there and helping Dex.”
“I can’t risk losing you,” Ian whispered, his voice shaking.
They both looked over when the car doors slammed and the dark sedans drove away.
He looked back at Ian. “And I can’t risk losing you. It’s why we’re going in there together. You do your guard dog thing while I do my doctor thing and we both get Dex out. So, c’mon. He needs us and we’re wasting time.”
Nick pressed a chaste kiss to Ian’s lips and pulled away. He unclipped his seat belt and grabbed his makeshift medical bag with a few critical items that would buy them enough time to get back home. He rolled out of the passenger seat without waiting for another word of protest.
They quickly walked through the darkness until they reached the edge of the hangar. Nick stood close behind Ian as he surveyed their surroundings, waiting for Ian’s lead.
“You didn’t need to bring the bag. We’re finding him and getting him out of there. You can do whatever you need to do in the car.”
“If that’s the case, then fine. You’re always prepared and so am I.”
Ian let out a frustrated breath. “Damn, you’re stubborn.”
“Just one of the many reasons you love me.”
Ian grumbled a protest. “Stay close to the wall when we move. There’s a rotating surveillance camera mounted on the upper right side of the building corner. When I say go, we need to move quickly.”
“Okay.” Nick hooked his fingers at the back of the waistband of Ian’s pants, steeling his nerves and preparing himself for what was to come. He could defend himself when needed, but his instincts had never been to willingly step into danger.
“Now!”
They hurried alongside the hangar’s perimeter, using the shadows for cover as they stayed close to the wall. Reaching the door, Ian immediately dropped on one knee and withdrew two metal rods from a small box he had stashed in his back pocket. He poked at the lock, twisting the tools while stealing glances at the camera slowly pivoting back toward them.
“C’mon,” Ian whispered once the lock clicked, pulling the door open enough so they could both slide in. “Stay close.”
They entered the large hangar and immediately stepped into a smaller, built-out rectangular area with a foyer and office space setup to the left. They quickly ducked to avoid being seen through the office’s short window. Ian pressed a finger to his lips and held his other hand up, signaling Nick to quietly wait in place. Ian readied his gun, aimed straight ahead at the office door. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and slowly turned it, swinging open the door with the gun aimed into the room, confirming the office was empty.
Ian pointed to the single door, on the side wall, leading farther into the building. “Let me go in and check things first. Make sure it’s clear.”
Nick nodded when Ian’s firm stare left little room for protest. His heart raced, waiting as Ian opened the other door and disappeared for a moment, returning just as quickly. “As soon as you step out this door, there are shipping containers to your left. Use them for cover. Okay?”
Nick nodded, letting Ian’s strength and steel soothe the tension thrumming through his body.
They stepped out into the hangar’s main area and raced for cover to the left behind the stack of large shipping containers closest to them. Past those crates, set almost in the middle of the space, a tall modular wall extended from the area where they stood all the way back the length of the hangar—the long, temporary divider essentially splitting the cavernous space in half.
The dividing wall appeared hard and solid on the bottom, almost like a standard office cubicle partition. Above the sturdy area was an industrial curtain that reached the ceiling, creating a virtual wall from top to bottom. Two large openings, doubling as access doors, led into the other half of the structure.
Their current hiding place only offered a vantage point of a single side. Nick looked to his left at the rest of the stacked containers. They could easily walk around and in between the stacks to get a view to the other side if necessary.
“There,” Ian whispered, spotting Dex slumped against the wall next to a table. He straightened his arm when Nick stepped forward, stopping his momentum. “Wait here.”
“Ian—”
“Wait. Here.” He sighed at Ian’s leveling stare. “Let me make sure it’s clear, then I’ll signal you.” Ian stealthily walked out from behind the shipping container and into the open space. Nick’s pulse raced as he gripped the edge of the metal bin, which offered him cover while Ian walked out into the open section, completely exposed.
He absently shook his head, wondering how someone could be so strong and forceful, yet move with such swiftness and speed and not make a single whisper of sound. Ian appeared alert, in control, as if ready to attack as he cautiously peeked through one of the access doors close to where Dex lay slumped on the ground.
Nick jerked forward at Ian’s hand signal, moving as light as possible with each step. He met up with Ian as he stood against the dividing wall, waiting for the silence through the access door before moving. Nick sharply inhaled, seeing the damage to Dex’s now pale face. One eye was swollen shut and bruises were already blooming across his cheek and temple. Blood stained his white T-shirt in several places, and a rip on the material revealed a long gash on his bicep.
Ian moved forward and Nick followed closely, finally reaching Dex.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Dex said, every word whispered through a labored breath. “You’re crazy.” He continued to huff. “They’re right on the other side.”
Nick swiftly dug into the bag and grabbed strips of cloth, making a tourniquet around Dex’s bicep to stop the bleeding.
“Quickly patch him up enough so he doesn’t bleed out when we move him,” Ian said in a commanding whisper before stepping away to near the access door again, listening closely to the muffled voices on the other side of the modular wall.
Nick stole glances at Ian as he worked, watching him stand with a ready gun as he guarded the access door opening and scanned the space. Nick pulled Dex’s hand away from where it cradled his side, frowning as he took another strip from his bag and wrapped it around Dex’s midsection to staunch the bleeding from a second large cut.
Dex winced when Nick tightened the knot.
“Okay, he’s good enough to move.”
Both Ian and Nick helped Dex stand, shifting his weight as he hobbled and grunted with the motion.
“How many men?” Ian asked. “I heard a few different voices.”
Dex muffled a pained groan with each step toward the door leading into that rectangular office space. “Half dozen? Maybe more? I started getting double vision, so I lost count. There’s another door, on the other side toward the rear of the hangar. They dumped me here after they beat the shit out of me. I think they figured I’d eventually kick it.”
“You’re not dying,” Nick said, holding Dex by the waist, careful with the gash at his side and the likely broken or bruised ribs as they moved behind the shipping containers. They paused for a moment, letting Dex take a few steadying breaths.
His skin’s gray pallor showed his pain, but it was no match for the determination in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
They all turned sharply when the muffled hum of voices filtering from the other side of the dividing wall grew louder and more distinct.
“Go,” Ian whispered, nudging them back to the door they had used to enter the hangar.
Nick walked ahead with Dex, supporting as much of his weight as he could while Ian remained a few steps behind, guarding their rear. With the door and their escape only a few steps away, Nick’s pulse spiked, driving him to move quicker.
The door suddenly opened.
He stilled, frozen in place, when a tall fair-haired man emerged from the entryway, blocking their freedom. The same man who had been standing by the car outside a few minutes before. A moment of shock raced across the man’s features before realization sunk in, driving him to reach inside his suit jacket.
“Killian!” Dex yelled.
Nick gasped when a perfect circle instantly appeared in the center of the man’s forehead, his mind finally registering the faint pop and whiz of air. He glanced over his shoulder at Ian, already disregarding the sound of the man’s body hitting the floor at his feet.
Ian stared at him, standing far too exposed with his arm still held straight and gun aimed in his direction, leaving no doubt his precision had created that tiny hole in the man’s forehead. “Go!”
A cold wash of fear flooded Nick’s system when two large men emerged through the wall’s access door. “Ian!”
Ian whipped around, his body prepared for the confrontation. He fired off a shot, one man instantly dropping as two more appeared in the passageway.
“Get down,” Dex grunted, shoving Nick to the polished concrete floor.
Nick glanced up as Dex delivered an uppercut to another man who had entered the hangar through the door in front of them. Nick sprung forward, barreling into the man and knocking him to the ground just as Dex wheezed and fell on his knees, grabbing his midsection with a grimace of pain. Nick punched and kicked the men entering the room through the door in front of him as his mind faintly registered the sounds around him of fists making contact and bullets whizzing in the air.
Another man entered, then another. Nick didn’t need to be a highly trained killer to know they were outnumbered, but he refused to give up. Dex’s side had already bled through the bandage as he rolled around on the floor, trying to swing his legs in kicks to drop the men to his side so he could help.
Adrenaline coursed through Nick’s body, charging his muscles to deliver a punch, then another. He and Dex were surrounded by three men. But he refused to quit, snarling with each punch and kick, ignoring the rising fear and worry in his chest.
We have to make it out of here.
Nick turned and swung a fist into a man’s jaw just as a thick, meaty arm wrapped around his neck from behind and lifted him off his feet. He clawed at the beefy arm around his throat, fighting to steal a breath. He threw his head back with force, head-butting the man’s face. Nick was pitched to the side against the wall in response, finally gulping each precious gasp of air he could swallow. His gaze slid over to Ian, still fighting off men, then quickly snapped to his right as a booted foot kicked Dex, stilling his movements.
Nick barely had a chance to recover when a large hand fisted his hair and yanked him to his feet. The fair-haired beast of a man with the bloody nose who seemed far too large to be human wrapped his thick left arm around Nick’s midsection, trapping his arms tightly against his body. Nick was tall by most standards, but this man easily had more than a half-foot advantage and almost a hundred extra pounds of pure muscle.
The man stepped forward as he tightly restrained Nick against his body. With Nick’s back braced against the man’s chest, it was as if he wore a huge bionic spacesuit.
The quasi-bionic right arm extended, holding a gun, rising to take aim.
Everything happened in slow motion. A sudden chill washed over Nick as the air in his lungs froze. In this position, it was as if Nick had a bionic arm, holding that pistol.
Aimed at Ian.
All thoughts evaporated from Nick’s mind except for one.
Ian.
Save him.
Warn him.
Protect him.
Nick fought the restraining hold, squirming his body as much as possible in the arm clamped around him, finally knocking the gun out of the man’s hand and forcing the beast to tighten his hold further with a frustrated grunt.
“You idiot,” the man said, his voice thick with a foreign accent. The man bent his knee and reached into his boot, drawing a smaller gun, raising it in his hand, and taking aim.
Nick took a deep breath and yelled across the room with every ounce of remaining force in his body. “Ian!”
Ian spun around. A momentary flash of worry froze his features as a gunshot simultaneously rang through the air…a split second before he fell.
Nick’s lips parted as the air evaporated from his lungs.
Time stood still, paralyzed in that single flash of Ian’s stunned expression the instant before he stumbled backward with the force of the shot and hit the edge of the table behind him.
Over and over in some twisted replay, Nick saw Ian fall to the ground.
Motionless. Again and again.
“Ian!”
His roar erupted through the silence of the room and echoed in the hangar.
“No!”
He yelled again and again, not caring about the throbbing heat of his face threatening to rupture his skull, or the crack in his voice as another yell ripped from his throat. He clawed at the man’s flesh holding him as his blood boiled with rage and his eyes burned. He had to get to Ian, he had to do something to save him. What good were all the years of studying and sacrifice and fighting to save lives if he couldn’t do something to save the one man he loved?
“Grab the other one,” one of the accented voices said.
Nick yelled and struggled to break free as he was carried by the large man farther into the hangar toward the access door. He stilled when they stepped over Ian’s unmoving body on the ground.
Blood.
Another yell tore through Nick’s throat, coming from somewhere deep within his pained soul, shattering something inside him as they walked through the access door to the other side of the hangar.
Nick’s body crumpled in the arms encasing him. He needed the warmth of Ian’s embrace rather than this cold vise restricting his movements in an unyielding grip. His muscles felt like anvils, weighing him down. Each breath gusted in and out of his sore, raw throat as a chill crawled up his body, leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
Without Ian, nothing else mattered. The glimmer of hope he had dared wish for lay on the ground on the other side of the dividing wall. The one man who had made him want more. The man who had made him believe things could end differently than what he had feared.
The pain in his heart was too much to bear. He didn’t care what Petrov did to him or about a future if Ian wasn’t a part of it. It was all pointless when the man who had planted that seed of hope in his heart lay lifeless on the floor on the other side of that partition.
The man holding Dex dumped him on the floor while the one holding Nick loosened his grip, keeping him in place with a knife to his throat.
Nick looked down as Dex held his midsection with a groan. He felt every single cut and bruise of Dex’s body as if they were his own.
This is all my fault.
Dex’s pain.
Ian.
Nick closed his eyes, begging the filmstrip of happy memories to overpower the image replaying in his mind of Ian’s lifeless body hitting the floor. A swell of emotions rose up his throat, forcing him to swallow heavily and gasp a breath. The pain was suffocating. His body shook. He hadn’t ever felt pain this deep, as if a part of his soul had shattered. He couldn’t get his heart to beat right or his lungs to pull in enough air.
He clutched at his chest, suddenly needing the comfort of his talisman.
A whimper escaped at its absence.
He didn’t know how he would survive this.
And he wasn’t sure he could.