CHAPTER THREE
ZQ jumped out and ordered his team to keep the gear in the vehicles for now. “Just bring in your duffle bags. These fine folks are going to let us bunk here for the night. Find somewhere quiet to hangout while Grey goes over everything with me. Then I’ll fill you all in.”
“TV room’s in the basement. So are the beds and showers.” Grey pointed to the door as he strode through the kitchen. “Fridge is beer loaded.” His thumb jerked toward the appliance. “Come on, ZQ you can look over the file I prepared on Ivy.”
The living room was a mass of computer equipment and two desks with office chairs lining the walls. “And I thought my office was big,” ZQ quipped. He sat at a desk with a red manila file on it. Nance rubbed along the side his leg and he bent to scratch behind her ears when he opened the file and stared at the picture paper clipped to the inside flap. Air whooshed from his lungs as he studied every aspect of her face.
His heartbeat knocked erratically.
His mouth went dry.
His ears buzzed.
Oh no! Hell no! It couldn’t be. “Grey, you got another picture of her? One with her hair down. She’s got it pulled back in a bun here.” Not that the hairstyle would make a difference. It was her eyes. He’d never met a pair of eyes like hers. Smoldering. Captivating. Beguiling. And the faint dusting of freckles over her nose, sprinting over her high cheekbones.
“Yeah. Be right back.” Grey went into the kitchen. “Babe, where’s the photo I took of you and Ivy New Years Eve?”
ZQ shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t been expecting those distinctive golden green eyes. Rose. His former submissive. Rose was their Ivy? It couldn’t be. He pressed the heel of his hand to his heart. The mission to Afghanistan had taken him away and since he couldn’t tell her where he was going, he’d chosen to keep more than the mission a secret—like his real name.
Grey handed him a glass of whiskey and a photo of Athena and Ivy in a frame. They were dressed up for a night out. His sub looked beautiful, as always, and wore the gold and diamond earrings he’d given her for her birthday. Her wavy tawny hair didn’t span to her waist like it did when they were together. Still, her new shoulder-length made his fingers itch to grab and tug, just enough to light up her scalp the way he used to. God, he’d been crazy about this woman. She’d been his angel, his love.
Now she was missing.
No doubt a captive of a drug cartel. Fear iced his veins. There wasn’t a damn thing he was afraid of, but the thought of someone hurting his Rose, or Ivy as her real name evidently was, scared the bejesus out of him. He’d loved her. Maybe he still did.
He sipped at the whiskey as he methodically read every word of intel the owners of the Omega Team had gathered. Suddenly this shit just got real and damn personal.
The more his eyes skimmed over the words, the less the details sunk in. He had to get his mind focused on a safe extraction. This was a mission.
He was not getting his old submissive back. Those precious times were long gone. He wanted to save her for her, not for himself. Too much time had passed. Their connection had died. He’d never be able to win her back, nor did he want to.
What a damn fucking lie.
“Grey, I’ve been sitting for so long, I’m going for a walk to give my ass a break. Plus the fresh air will clear my head. Be back in twenty, or so.”
As he passed through the kitchen, Athena was making a salad. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You said Ivy has a kid?”
She nodded and reached for a bag of sliced carrots. “Yeah, a boy. Quinn. He’s a charmer. Since Ivy’s been gone, he turned four and cried for her his entire birthday.” She shook her head. “It was damn heartbreaking. He spends part of the time with his babysitter and the rest here with us. Grey has one of our guys on security detail when Quinn’s with the babysitter.”
ZQ couldn’t talk. He stumbled twice before he barreled out the door. His fingers curled into fists as he stormed up the sidewalk of the neighborhood.
Ivy Rosemoor had used part of her last name—Rose—at the club for secrecy, just as he, Zane Quinlan, had used part of his—Quinn. She ended up using his as a name for her child. Why? He leaned his hand against the rough trunk of a palm tree next to the sidewalk. Dear God, was he a father? He’d always used protection. Always. But that thin barrier wasn’t a hundred percent effective according to statistics. And there were those two times the condom broke.
Running boots sounded behind him. “ZQ! Wait up.”
Dammit! Can’t I have a few fucking minutes to myself to process?
JJ grabbed his other hand and took his pulse. “Are you feeling okay? You’re so pale? Athena yelled for me, said you stumbled around and seemed disoriented. That’s not like you. Pulse is rapid. Skin clammy.” He passed ZQ a bottle of water. “Drink.” He glanced around and pointed to the park across the street. “Let’s grab a bench.”
He shook his head and walked on. “Nah. I’m good. Just need some fresh air.”
JJ matched him stride for stride. “You know, ZQ, you can’t bullshit an old bullshitter. Do you know how many times I’ve told people I was fine when I was a heartbeat away from ripping things apart? I’m getting a strong vibe you’re hanging on by a thread. What’s wrong?” JJ grabbed his commander’s elbow and marched him across the street to the quiet park.
“I’ve just been hit with some unexpected news and need a break from everyone to think.” Maybe JJ would take the hint and go away.
“Good thing I’m not everyone, ZQ. I have secrets only you know. So I’m willing to listen to yours and keep them to myself. That’s the kind of brothers we are, man. Salt and pepper.”
“Not in the mood for sharing. Not yet.” Why would Rose name her kid after the name I used with her? Is her child mine? He did some quick math calculations. “Did you hear me? Go back to Grey’s place.”
“Not happening. You need someone to talk to. What made you go pale? Athena said you scared the crap outta her. I get the feeling it takes a lot to rattle that woman.”
What the hell. He and JJ had talked about a lot of stuff during the time he’d been at the ranch. After gulping a long drink of water, he leaned back on the bench and took a deep breath. “I’m a sexual Dominant.”
“Yeah, the team’s already figured that much out.”
“My enjoyment of a little kink is none of the team’s business. Once I was assigned to SEAL Team five, based out of Coronado, I joined a BDSM club there. I mostly did scenes, always keeping my eye out for a favorite. You know, someone whose kink matched mine.” ZQ smiled and hitched a shoulder.
“Then one night, I met Rose. We meshed like ice cream and chocolate syrup. Because of my rank and level of security I held, I’d bastardized my last name. Everyone at the club knew me simply as Quinn. Looks like Rose did the same with her last name.”
JJ placed his elbows on his spread thighs and hung his head. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me. Ivy Rosemoor is your Rose? Hell, man, are you gonna be able to keep your mind focused on the mission?”
“I’ll have to to bring her back.” He tipped the bottle to his mouth and guzzled some more.
“Let me check your pulse again.” JJ pressed two fingers against ZQ’s neck. “It’s not as rapid. What broke you two up?”
“She knew I was a SEAL. I’d told her that much, but not that I was a team commander. You know how that shit works, the higher I rose in rank, the more confidential information I was privy to. I didn’t want to leave my security clearance open or vulnerable. Initially she told me she was a college student, but I thought she was a little old for that.” He shrugged. “I just figured we both had details we needed to keep private.
“Later she told me she was a law student, preparing to take her bar exams. She told me in confidence. Some people worry about being blackmailed because of their sexual lifestyle. Don’t know if it’s ever happenes, but—”
ZQ glanced away and exhaled a long breath. “Everything was great between us. Then orders came for team five to go to Afghanistan to take out a group of Taliban hiding in the mountains of Hindu Kush. I had a separate phone I used only for Rose. I gave her one for me. This kept our relationship totally separate from our public lives. We liked being in our own private cocoon.
“I texted her that my job was taking me away for a while and I didn’t know when I’d be back. I told her to always remember how much she meant to me. Then I texted her after our arrival and told her we were in the back half-acre of hell, setting up camp. I asked her if she missed me and to send me a selfie.”
ZQ stretched his long legs and took a deep breath. “Eager for her reply, I put the phone on a pile of rocks near our command tent where we had intermittent wireless Internet. I turned and saw Two Packs needed help digging a hole for the latrine.” He closed his eyes hoping to block out the memory. A futile exercise. ZQ had run to help because having a shitter was a necessity. A volley of gunfire had gone off. He dove into the hole and his buddy’s lifeless body had fallen on top of him.
“We used to tell Two Packs his smoking would kill him,” JJ spoke with reverence. “Instead it was a group Taliban snipers.”
ZQ shook off the memory of lifting his man’s body out of the way so he could return fire. It was a tense ten minutes that seemed short in one way and eternal in another. He and two of his men had received minor wounds.
“Yeah, the bastards shot up my phone, too. The trouble with speed dial is you never memorize the person’s phone number. My connection to Rose was gone.”
“Fuck, ZQ, a lot of things went to shit in Afghanistan. You had your foot blown off.”
“Jesus man, you think I don’t remember that?” He barked a laugh. “The helicopter was rising as I was trying like hell to scramble onboard. Had to make sure all my men were in the bird first. We were taking fire and my one leg still dangled out of the open door. Made for a hell of a target.”
“You always were a big footed son-of-a-bitch.”
“And you were a knobby-kneed nitwit.” ZQ ran his fingers through his hair. “Surgery was next followed by getting used to walking and swimming with a prosthesis. To keep my place in the SEALs, I had to go through part of BUD/S again with all those young pups. I was thirteen years older than most of ‘em. Damn, I had to work my ass off just to keep up, much less excel. By the time I got back to home base, almost a year had passed. I knew we were getting ready to head for Syria with only six weeks of intense training to go through.”
JJ nodded. “Yeah, you worked us as if our lives depended on it. We had no clue it would. You gave us one night off and hell I was too tired to crawl out of bed to go anywhere.”
“I gave you that free night so I could go looking for Rose. I hadn’t been able to reach her by phone. She’d moved from her little apartment and new management had taken over. They had no clue who I was asking about.
“At the club, I was told she’d cancelled her membership. I was frantic to find her. All that closeness we’d shared and the only two ways we had to contact each other was the club and the phone. Hell, we didn’t even know each other’s last names. What a bunch of dumbasses we were. I mean, I was crazy about her, just like you are over Ashley. Why didn’t I sit her down and tell her my real name? How to reach me in an emergency? Then maybe she’d have told me hers.”
“Damn,” JJ muttered. “No wonder you went batshit when you saw her picture.”
“There’s more.”
JJ arched his black eyebrow evidently waiting for ZQ to clue him in.
“She was pregnant. Neither one of us knew. Hell, I always used protection, but there were two times the condoms broke. She couldn’t handle the pill, so I always took care of birth control. Now she has a boy she named Quinn.”
“Because she thought your name was Quinn. She named her child after his father.”
“Athena and Grey are helping to take care of him,” ZQ’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “I might meet my son today.” He leaned his head back and studied the clouds. “I have a son.”
“You sure he’s yours, brother?” In moments of emotional distress, this was how his team members referred to each other. The word defined their bond.
ZQ stood and took a couple steps. “She was my woman, no matter what her name was. I loved her. I trusted her. Just like you do Ashley, man.” His hands slipped into his pockets. “Hell, after all this time I still carry those emotions. My heart tells me I have a son. That’s why she named him after me.”
****
Lively salsa music echoed in the narrow street of whatever city Ivy was being held prisoner. Athena would have loved the rhythmic beat, but it grated on Ivy’s nerves. Right now, the only thing she wanted to hear was her sweet boy’s chatter. She wiped tears that burned the bruises on her face. She’d missed his birthday. Would he blame her?
She’d just reached the bottom of the Court House steps that fateful day when a black van zoomed to the curb. Never giving it a thought, she continued on the sidewalk to where she’d parked her car when the van’s side door slid open and a man jumped out. In a flash, he had his arm viced around her shoulders and a revolver thrust into her ribs. She’d barely had time to register what was happening.
“Get your ass into the van. No noise. No wild movements. Stay calm and you stay alive.”
Her gaze bolted from his stern face to the black gun shoved into her. “What?”
“I’ll explain on the way.” The man, who evidently had an aversion to soap and water, shoved her into the interior of the vehicle. Once he’d pushed her into a seat, the door closed, and the van took off. “Buckle up, Ivy. Your nightmare is about to begin.”
He was so right. Every second since the moment he’d grabbed her had been terrifying. She couldn’t help worrying about her son. Was Quinn okay? Who was taking care of him? Was he as scared as she was?
Ivy hobbled to the room’s only window. The thick rope that tied her to the bed was long enough to allow her to reach and use the bathroom. Just her luck it was three feet shy of reaching the door to whatever lay beyond.
She moved one of the thick wooden slats of the blinds and put her nose to the hole in the glass. She inhaled fresh, humid air with the fish and brine odors of the ocean. If only she could open them, but the cords had been removed that opened and raised the blinds.
The building next to hers was about six feet away and a sun-faded turquoise. This structure she was held captive in was coral. She could count five floors in the one next to her, so she figured she was on the fifth floor of this one. Too high to jump and the exterior stucco walls were too rough to climb down.
What about climbing up? The roof of the turquoise house appeared flat edged with an intricate wrought iron railing. Was this building built the same way? Could she do anything as physical as climbing with a bruised body and no shoes?
On her flight here in a private plane, she’d been gagged and tied up. Once her captives got her off the plane, they pushed a black hood over her head so she couldn’t see where she was being driven. The smelly criminals had dragged her up the flights of steps, bruising her knees and shins and knocking off her high heels. After tying a rope around her ankle, they secured the other end to the bed frame. Then they removed the hood. The room was dark, so she stood, too afraid to get near the bed, fearful of what they would do to her next.
To her surprise, they exited the room and locked the door. In a whoosh of relief, she collapsed onto the bed. She pressed her nose to the bedding and it smelled freshly laundered. Thank God for that. After worrying over her little boy, she finally drifted off. Her dreams that night were of her SEAL giant. Her six-foot-six Dom. Of his coming to rescue her, whispering to her, and then suddenly taking on the face of a Columbian madman with a gun to her son’s head. She sat straight up in bed, sweating, gasping for air, sobbing over how her stupid ambition might have put her child in harm’s way. What kind of mother had she been?
She swung her legs over the side of the bed; the rope around her ankle chaffed her skin. With the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes, she cursed her actions blinded by ambition. Was bringing down this cartel so freaking important? At the time, she believed it was. She wanted to make the streets of her city safer. But maybe, just maybe, she also wanted to make a name for herself. A chance at running for District Attorney.
Damn my blind ambition.
All she’d done with her constant snooping and asking questions was open Pandora’s Box. Now look where she was? Torn away from her son. Today had been his birthday and she’d missed it. Would little Quinn ever forgive her? Could he understand she had no choice?
During her first two days here, her captives yelled insults and questions at her. They’d spat on her face and beaten her, but she’d kept defiantly quiet.
The third day, they’d stripped her naked, tied ropes around her wrists, and hung her from rafters in the basement, whipping her with rubber hoses. To further humiliate her, the men groped her with their grimy fingers. She shuddered in revolt at the memory.
When they’d dragged her back into this room and knotted the rope around her ankle again, she used every ounce of willpower to crawl to the shower. She allowed the hot water to sting all the oncoming bruises. What she wanted was to rid her skin from traces of their touching her, especially in her vagina.
She spoke Spanish, so could understand their threats and jokes. The men who beat her kept talking about how she’d pay when the boss Gilberto Muñoz arrived to fuck her in the ass to get the information he wanted. Her extensive research on Gilberto proved he wasn’t a man to be messed with and she quaked at the thought of his coming anywhere near her.
She kept praying the criminals—no, animals—that held her prisoner and tortured her for the past four days would never learn she had a son. They would capture him and threaten his life at which point she’d tell then all she knew. She’d give the names of the two men who had supplied her with information about the cartel, which would be the same as signing their death warrant and hers. Oh God, why hadn’t she paid more attention to Athena’s warnings?
Instead, she was in a Columbian hell. In a world of hurt.
Where was her son? Was he safe?