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These were the hours James hated. Empty. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do but think. And God knew, thinking was something he could do without. It wasn’t like he could plan his future, or even his next move. Two teams were tracking the small plane carrying the mystery substance. If the package was dropped in the ocean, they’d have it before the splash settled, or on land, before it finished bouncing.
That part of the op was completely out of his hands. The two who’d produced the small vial of white liquid had been picked up for questioning, and there was another team going through the warehouse where they’d cooked the substance.
But Rollins was still in the fucking wind, and that rankled. He was managing to evade them. Fuck that, he was leading them around by their dicks. Letting them get just close enough to catch a glimpse before going to ground.
Three hours till his transpo. He glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Looked like hell, and could use a shower, but no point checking into a hotel. Small room, thin walls, and a bed. He shook his head, stared into his own eyes. “Do not go there. History, man. You owned it and moved on. You don’t have to let it back in. You have tools.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. Muttered, “Could use my dog right now.” He tried to ignore the increased heart rate. Glanced around at the sea of cars parked in the long-term lot. “Walk. Go. Now.”
He wrenched the door open and dove out before the demons grabbed hold. Sucked in a huge breath and counted his steps through a long, slow exhale. Fought the need for a new breath. Kept counting instead. Used his watch to monitor the seconds, then minutes. At three-fifty-five his vision blurred. At four he took a breath. Stopped and took stock. Twenty-four hundred steps from the car. He placed fingertips against his pounding jugular vein for fifteen seconds. Not bad, heart rate only ninety-six. He’d had days when it hit one-fifty in a single jump.
He scanned the lot. Counted red cars. Then black trucks. Okay, getting a handle. He increased his speed, no longer one step per second for control, now he needed to exert some energy, and running laps in an airport parking lot would appear odd.
Half an hour later he’d toured the terminal and was back at the car. Relaxed, better for a cold water wash-up. He might not look any better, but he felt revived. In the here and now, with no chance of slipping into the before that haunted him. Ready to talk. It was only three in the morning at the ranch, but he knew his wife.
Hey, Sky, how about a backrub? He felt the smile start and tamped it down. No point making passersby think he was weird.
You know how I feel about virtual backrubs. So unfulfilling.
He could nearly see her sexy, half-awake smile, and the last of his angst melted. You’re no fun.
I would be if you were here.
Tease.
I try. Where are you?
Buenos Aires. Waiting for a flight out.
Dare I ask?
I hate to promise, but at least I’m headed for the right hemisphere, so there might be a backrub in your near future.
Mmmm. But that means the trail’s gone cold?
There have been a couple of developments. His family needed to know about the vial. That Rollins was producing something chemical they had to be ready to counteract. I’d rather fill everyone in myself, so I’m headed home. Headed home. Not a phrase he’d used a lot in the last ten or so years.
James?
Nothing we can’t handle.
You’re worried.
About his overall intentions. Nothing specific or immediate.
Don’t worry about us. We’ll stop him long before he gets close. Grace and Logan are here, and fully briefed. Eve and Matt are working on getting Alexandra back on her feet, and all else is well.
As always, you have the home front under control. His wife was a born warrior. She hadn’t always known that about herself, but he had, from the moment they met. She’d been the poster kid for gumption. Looking after her mom and herself, and fiercely protecting their secrets.
And now, he could still say she was the strongest woman he’d ever met. And he was likely the only person who knew just how vulnerable she was inside. How soft her heart, what she went through when her children struggled. How she hurt when they did.
She’d been silent for too long. What’s wrong?
He actually felt her sigh. Yes, she was troubled.
It’s hard to watch Alexandra suffer. To see what’s been done to her.
We’ll get it reversed. Somehow, some way, she’ll be okay, I promise you, Sky.
But she’ll never be free of the memory.
Like him. He’d never be free of the memories that had nearly taken him away from his family forever. He understood his wife’s concern, and could do or say nothing to negate it. But. Don’t forget she’s in the best possible hands. She has the perfect team in Eve and Quinn. They’ll do everything they can to minimize the feelings of helplessness. She’ll be one of the lucky ones, Sky. Believe, baby, so she will too. And it will probably help if Swagger hangs out with her.
He’s already glued himself to her side, and I’m sure it’s helping. She wanted to touch him. I had to lift her hand so she could pet a dog. She’s a vet. Loves animals. She shouldn’t need someone to help her pet one.
He hated this part of his life. The part where he was away from the people who needed him. She needed his strength right now and, once again, he wasn’t there. So he did the only thing he could. Imagined the music first.
Our song’s playing, Sky. Can you hear it?
It took a minute, as always, for her to calm and tune to the rhythm, the beat, but once she was there, they were in sync. He wasn’t in Argentina anymore. He was on the wide lawn outside their bedroom doors. They were barefoot, her hair was down, and the light breeze lifted the ends. He held out his hand. Dance with me.
In his head he could feel her fingers between his as he drew her in. She smiled and pressed her face against his throat in a move he always felt right down to the soles of his feet. He folded her in and held on while they swayed to the music. He knew the moment she finally let that last edge of her guard down and surrendered to her feelings, to what they were together. Trusted him to hold her, watch out for her.
James. Her voice a bare whisper.
Kiss me.
He imagined her looking up at him, her mouth parted, and a half smile hovering on her lips. But when their eyes met, there was nothing playful left, only a love years old and always wonderfully new.
***
Julia didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she straightened up the office sofa where she’d been settled for the night. Folded the blanket and slipped the pillow into its cover. Although she usually began her nights in their bed, being alone there never worked. More often than not, she’d end up using the secret passage to her office and eventually find sleep there—the only place in the house where James felt safe enough to actually rest, so this was where she’d be if he came home. But she slept on the sofa without folding the mattress out.
Consuelo knew what was what, but the rest of the family hadn’t a clue. Didn’t understand her drive to get the new house started. They did at least understand that James needed to be there for the construction. Security wasn’t just their business, but it was paramount for him to feel completely secure in his environment so he could relax. Rest. They were all aware of his hypervigilance, and how it ruled his life and everyone else’s. But he was alive. And wanted to be a part of the family again. Be the head of the business.
Would she be able to back away when he took over? Would she feel displaced? She’d been in charge for years, and had long believed she’d love to step back and let someone else take control...but lately there’d been other feelings. Maybe she’d wish she was involved. She wasn’t exactly the kind of woman to finish out her life talking to the children gathered around her rocking chair.
She huffed out a breath. No point borrowing trouble. Especially when she had such a lovely time with James this morning. She needed to be held, and he’d been there for her. Had, as always, understood her. She could still feel the strength of his arms supporting her, his hands spread across her back, and his heart beating in time with her own. A gift, indeed.
She jumped when the house phone on her desk beeped. That would be from the infirmary. She hit speaker and reached for her jeans.
“Eve.”
“I need your help with Alexandra.”
“On my way,” she said while sliding a sweat shirt over her head.
She jogged barefoot through the halls. Burst through the doorway to an odd as hell scene. Broughton was on the bed behind Alexandra with his arms wrapped around her middle, and there was an oxygen mask on her face. Swagger was draped across her lap and tears rained off her chin.
“Eve? Tell me what’s going on.”
“She started having trouble breathing, and then the tears started. She’s one of you. Talk to her.”
“Broughton?”
“I’ve tried, and she can’t hear me, or I can’t hear her. Not sure which. All I know is she’s scared.”
Julia opened the pathways of her mind. Alexandra? Talk to me, honey.
Oh God, thank you. I’m so fucking scared. There was a great weight on my chest, and then these tears started, and they were backing up in my throat, and I thought I was going to drown until Eve figured it out and sat me up, and then Broughton came, and I’m way better, but the tears thing won’t stop, and it’s making me blurry, which then made me crazy because seeing is all I have and...
Okay. Julia put her hands on the younger woman. Held her by the ankles to ground her in the midst of chaos. You’re going to be okay.
I know. I know. But it’s scary. So damned scary. I could hear Broughton’s voice in my head, but he couldn’t hear me. Just like earlier today, when you couldn’t hear me.
I’m sorry, I should have explained. Grace and Logan are also telepathic, and when we all get together, it gets a bit crowded, so we’re careful to only use individual connections as opposed to broadcasting, and likewise, we don’t open ourselves up. Prevents headaches. Literally. She managed a reassuring smile.
But this time, I’ve opened a pathway, a channel if you like, just for you and me, Alexandra. And I’ll see if I can help you open one with Broughton. He’s very adept at blocking his talents from outside observers, so it takes some work to find your way in.
Julia explained to the other two about what had happened to Alexandra, and everyone relaxed a bit. Now of course she was curious as to why Broughton was in Alexandra’s room at four in the morning. And Eve.
“I thought Matt was doing the overnight shift?” Her new son-in-law was also a doctor.
“We switched at three so he could catch a couple hours sleep before Dhillon got him up for their morning ride.”
Dhillon came by to meet me last night. He’s a pretty cool kid.
Julia smiled. Did he tell you the story of his life?
No.
He will one day, and it’s pretty entertaining, especially the way he tells it.
“Grace was trying to give you space, but I think it would be wise to discuss this with her today. She spends a great deal of time with girls and women who’ve been victims of human trafficking and slavery. Their experiences—the complete loss of control over their lives—are not entirely unlike what you’ve been going through. Besides that, Grace has some experience of her own she could share with you. Maybe help you deal from another angle.”
That would be fine. I suppose I’ll be shrink bait by the time this is over.
If we were in chat or texting right now I’d throw in a smiley face or an LOL and ask you if you’ve met my son Quinn yet.
I have. He told me he’s a psychologist and would help me through all this mess. Funny when I talk about it this way, I see myself wading through waist-deep mud. I had to do that once to tranq a horse we were going to lift out by helicopter after I got meds on board to immobilize the poor creature.
You were in the mud with it? That’s dangerous.
There were downed trees between him and me, so it wasn’t too bad. No real risk.
I’m betting you’d have been in there anyway, even if it was more dangerous.
Well, yeah, probably.
“Mom?”
Julia glanced at Eve.
“The tears have stopped.”
“Well, that’s great.” Julia nodded at Alexandra. “I guess you got rid of all that pent-up anger.”
“I know you know your job,” Julia said to Eve. “But you are turning her, right?”
Eve nodded. “Broughton’s been a great help. We change Alexandra’s position every hour.”
“See, I knew you’d have it under control.” She glanced at Broughton. “I can hang with these two for a while if you need some sleep.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Well then I’m going to shock Consuelo and get breakfast started before she’s even up.”
“Seriously, Mom? Have you forgotten you can’t cook?” Eve’s expression was priceless, and what she’d said was true, so Julia could do nothing but laugh off the insult.
“No worries. I’m just going to get everything set out for the early grazers. Even I can cut fruit and set out bowls for cereal.”
***
Broughton wasn’t ready to open a communications link with Alexandra, because he didn’t trust his reactions to her. Was afraid she was already getting under his skin. The last thing he needed right now was a relationship, and what if they could never reverse the paralysis? Could he bear to be emotionally tied to someone so terribly incapacitated?
Well, duh. Obviously he could.
He’d only had a couple of hours sleep since yesterday, because he wanted—needed—to be able to see her, know she was okay.
And, holy shit, when she started to have trouble breathing, he’d nearly lost it. Had yelled at Eve to do something! Which had been way out of line, but she hadn’t slapped him back.
How could he be getting so attached to someone whose voice he’d never heard? Whose smile or laugh were unknowns? How the hell could he feel a need to kiss lips that didn’t move? That was the scariest question of all. And nothing scared Broughton. Ever.
He glanced over at Eve, and she pointed at Alexandra, mimed that she was sleeping. All thoughts of leaving stilled. He’d do nothing to interrupt her sleep, because to his knowledge, she’d slept even less than he had.
Was he in the most comfortable of positions? Nope. But he’d been in worse. Countless ops had him perched in trees or other precarious places for hours on end, weapon ready. At least back in his sharpshooter days. Whether the spotter or the shooter, he’d been able to maintain position for hours, barely blinking. In more recent years, he’d been the fly on the wall. A set of eyes and ears no one noticed. Blending as he’d been taught by the Chameleon, James, his mentor. The man was amazing. Able to walk through a room full of people completely unnoticed. Or scale a wall within inches of a security guard and never set off an alarm.
The toughest gigs were when dogs were involved. Broughton glanced at Swagger. He wasn’t surprised that the Chameleon, like himself, had found relief from his symptoms with a canine companion.
Broughton missed his own, but when he headed off to pick up Alexandra, he gave them to Quinn and Rachel to look after, and the dogs were now happily guarding the couple’s young son.
Broughton was doing a similar duty, watching over Alexandra. At the moment, he was concerned because his telepathic connection with her had failed. Opening his channels wider was not an option. Having been locked down for the op, it took time to peel back the protection. His powers were different from most others he knew.
They talked of wide hallways in their minds, and opening doors, but for him the pathways were like taut guitar strings with sound energy moving them. Telepathy was sound at a decibel level the average person couldn’t decipher. Which made it easy to transmit, and a bitch to receive. And his particular receiver kept him safe. Kept his mind inaccessible. And that was more important than anything else.
He couldn’t afford for anyone to know who he was.