Thirteen

 

Liam’s knee bounced up and down as he stared at Bas.  His eyes bounced around the room.  “They’re coming, aren’t they?  Jesus Christ, I can feel them.  They’re coming.  I, fuck, I need to get to Lily, Bas,” he said as he stood and began pacing.

Bas thought about pulling him back down and forcing him to wait but, this was the man’s daughter – his only tie left to the life he used to have.

“Go, Liam.  Go to her.  I’ll find you,” he said as he stood up, walked over to where he’d been tied up before, reached up and gripped the large hook that was embedded in the ceiling.

Liam stared at him, “If I walk out of here without all of my weapons, it’ll all be over before it starts.”

“I know, Li.  Go.  I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Liam’s eyes raked over Bas’s mostly naked body.  Liam had found Bas’s discarded sweatpants tossed into the corner of the room when they’d first brought him here.  Bas had those on now but that was the only article of clothing he’d been able to find.  Bas’ shirt had probably been torn off.  He saw the muscles rippling throughout the man’s strong body as he readied himself.  He remembered the power of those thighs as they had squeezed his neck like a vice.  Bas could’ve easily snapped Liam’s neck with those legs.

But, while he was strong, he couldn’t stop a bullet.  And bullets would be flying.

“Bas,” he said, hesitating.

“I’ll be fine, Li.  Go save your girl, that’s an order.  I’ll see you on the flip side.”

Liam could’ve argued more since Bas had never outranked him when they were in the service.  But he didn’t.  He got what Bas was trying to do.  With one final nod, he headed up the stairs.

Bas squeezed his fingers around the hook, getting a good grip, as he waited for guards to come down the stairs.

Bas thought about what Liam had said.  Poppy was alive.  They’d all seen the truck he’d been trapped in burning out of control.  They’d felt the explosions when the gas tank and ammo inside exploded.  There was no way anyone got out of there alive.  No fucking way.  Except, apparently, there was. 

Petyr Popov was alive. 

Poppy. 

He had been their sole focus, he’d been the glue that tied them together.  Oh, sure they’d done other missions, successful ones.  But Poppy.  He was their gold star.  They knew the amount of knowledge the man had about the seedier side of war was enough to fill a swimming pool, hell, fucking football stadium. 

With him on their side, entire empires would’ve crumbled. .  When they lost him, the entire team had felt unbalanced and they’d never gotten back to feeling normal ever again.  Not to mention, hearing Supergirl’s screams over the radio before she succumbed was something that still haunted his dreams to this day.

Poppy was alive.

And he wanted information that Bas had.

Bas’ eye went wide when he realized what Poppy was after.

“Fuck,” he mumbled into the empty room.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

This was bad.

Like really, really bad.

Poppy was after information.  Information that was split into two parts – one part that Bas had, the other part Sawyer had.  Or at least he had it when he was still alive.  It probably died with him.

Or did it?

Did Poppy even know that Sawyer was dead?

Jesus fucking Christ – what had he done?

By calling Morgan in for the rescue, he knew that Morg would bring Ten with him – he knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

So, by calling Morgan, Bas had unwittingly invited the sacrificial lamb right into the lion’s den. Popov would use Ten to get to Bas.

And Bas had no way now of calling and warning Ten to stay away.

Can you say ‘Clusterfuck’?