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The hard fingers biting into his shoulder shook him wake. On instinct he gripped the palm, twisting it backward, using the leverage to jerk the attacker onto the bed beside him and scramble to drop a knee on their chest. Only then did he come awake enough to realize it wasn’t an attacker beneath him, but Fionn.
“Be gettin’ your hairy-ass balls outta my face, would ya?” Fionn growled.
Deacon released him in favor of finding his underwear. “What’s going on?” Sydney’s door was still closed, locked, but otherwise the room was empty. “Where’s Elliot?”
“That’s the problem.”
He paused halfway to the floor, reaching for his fatigues. “What?”
Fionn scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Come in the living room.”
Fuck. What now?
He dressed quickly. Before leaving his room, he unlocked Sydney’s door so she could exit if she needed him. He hadn’t intended to leave it locked, but after he and Elliot...well, he’d passed out harder than he’d intended. The worry was wearing him down, obviously—unacceptable on an op, but it wasn’t going away until his daughter’s safety was guaranteed.
Careful to be quiet, he eased her door open, needing to see her, to remind himself that, no matter what shit was hitting the fan, his daughter was secure. Sydney lay curled around Katie Kitty, the blanket twisted around her body, a frown pulling at her mouth. As he walked closer, he could see the frantic movements of her eyes beneath the closed lids: a dream. Good or bad? He did his best to keep her waking hours calm, but the chaos of the past few days was enough to disturb the calmest adult, much less four-year-old. Was it finding an outlet in her dreams?
Helplessness was a twist in his gut that he was becoming very familiar with lately. He was a warrior, not a mother. How did he soothe his child and fight off her tormenters at the same time?
In the end all he knew to do was lay his hand on her head, hoping against hope that the warmth and reassurance of his presence would soothe her. When she quieted beneath his touch, his stomach unknotted a little, but still he left her door cracked open so he could hear her if she called out.
And then he turned to face whatever awaited him in the living room.
The three-man team he’d left when he went to bed was doubled when Deacon exited the bedroom and cracked the door behind him. The increase in numbers made his heart jump into his throat. “What happened?”
“Elliot’s gone.”
It took a moment for the meaning of the words to register. His immediate reaction was denial—no, she wouldn’t do this to him, not again. Something must’ve happened. “Where? We need to find her.”
“I don’t think she wants to be found,” Dain said as he entered through the main door. Alvarez followed him inside.
The weary look on Dain’s face threatened to tear through Deacon’s disbelief, but he clung stubbornly. He’d made love to Elliot just a couple of hours ago, held her in his arms, connected to her on a level that he’d only ever shared with Jules. She wouldn’t walk out without telling him where she was going—and besides, there was nowhere for her to go; they didn’t have Mansa’s location.
“She wouldn’t leave without—”
“Deacon.” The guttural tone of Dain’s voice hit harder than a shout. “You and Fionn almost died yesterday. Your daughter could’ve died if she’d been with you. Elliot cares...a lot, for you and your daughter. I’m not even sure why I’m surprised.”
King grunted an agreement.
Deacon opened his mouth—to argue or simply scream, he wasn’t sure—but Dain forestalled either reaction. “If Elliot thought what she was doing would keep you both safe, she sure as hell would walk out that gate and never think twice about it. And she wouldn’t tell you because she wouldn’t want you following her and putting yourself in jeopardy.”
“That’s not her fucking choice to make!”
Dain scoffed. “And we both know how much that matters to her.”
“You— Damn it, Dain!” He channeled his fury, his frustration into a hard growl, forced himself to turn away, pace it off instead of strangling the man in front of him. Dain was right, Deacon knew it even if he didn’t want to, and taking this out on him wouldn’t do them a fucking bit of good.
Dain gave him a moment, long enough that Deacon could gather the tattered remnants of his control. Still pacing, he forcibly turned his mind to tactical mode. Maybe if he could lock away the emotion, the memories, the fear...that was the only way he’d get through this. Focus on the details, the op. What had happened to the soldier who’d taken Andre Diako out with a single steady shot?
He fell in love, dumb-ass.
“How do you know she’s left instead of just going out for a run?”
It was King who answered. “She told me she was going down to the commissary. When twenty minutes passed and no Elliot, I started making calls. She left through the front gate almost half an hour ago.”
“Where would she be going?” Deacon argued. “We don’t know where Mansa is.”
Alvarez spoke up for the first time. “We do now.” Deacon noted absently that the man still wore his suit, still unrumpled, tie still knotted, hair perfect. Did he never sleep? “Not long after Smith left, I received a call from medical. Sheppard became agitated after Smith went to her room. Started kicking up a fuss, demanding to speak to someone associated with the case, fighting off the staff when they tried to sedate her to calm her down. They called me.” His grin was more shark than not. “Seems our intrepid little techie had more than one secret. She gave Smith the location.”
Fionn cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t Sheppard give it to us?”
Alvarez shrugged. “I don’t know, but I can guarantee you I will, sooner than later.”
Because they’d force her. Deacon wanted to be okay with that, yet the thought of the woman they all referred to as girl being tortured twisted him up inside. A common state for him lately, it seemed.
The thought brought a grim smile to his face. He wanted to storm after Elliot and put her over his knee, make sure that every step she took for days would remind her not to run off half-cocked with no backup. He wanted even more to knot his fists in her hair and fuck her until the desperate fear in his gut finally dissolved. The first wasn’t happening, and the latter would have to wait—he had an op to prep. “Do we know the location?”
The commander started talking back doors and algorithms and Deacon stopped listening. The answer was no. Except...
He dug in his pants pocket—empty. “Did she take the SUV?” It made the most sense. They had brought one of GFS’s vehicles and one of JCL’s with them, but Deacon had been carrying the GFS keys.
Alvarez brought his phone to his ear.
She stole the keys while you were sleeping. After you had sex. After you told her you loved her.
He remembered drifting off and thinking he heard tears, and the truth hit him: Elliot had been planning this then. She’d been planning, and hurting, and he’d fallen asleep. His woman had needed him, and he’d fallen asleep.
Damn it.
“What the hell could she be thinking?” Fionn asked. “Mansa isn’t alone. She cannot be believing she can take them all on her own.”
Deacon looked at his best friend, watched him rub a hand over the bandage covering the wound on the back of his head. Beside him was Dain, the man who’d saved Elliot before she’d even realized she needed saving. Then Saint, his crucifix shining in the dim light. King, anger and frustration and fear mixing in his expression. And Trapper, whose scars and pain could not be missed. “She’s not trying to take them all,” he said, the pieces coming together in his mind. “She’s only going for Mansa. He wants her alive. It’s a given that she can get in the same room with him.” The rightness of the plan settled in him, right alongside the gut-wrenching fear. His woman, on her own, with a madman.
His woman. Maybe spanking her ass wasn’t totally out of the question.
He met Dain’s troubled gaze. “She just might succeed.”
Dain nodded. Deacon saw his throat work as he swallowed hard.
“She has our SUV,” Alvarez finally confirmed.
“Good. Get her tracked, Commander.” He didn’t care if Alvarez was the boss or not; on this op, Deacon was in charge. “And get me a small army.” His heart wanted to focus on Elliot, but he had to step back and look at the bigger picture: this was the opportunity they had been waiting for, the possibility of taking the fight to Mansa instead of waiting it out. Their scout was already in; now they needed to save her ass and take the target.
“Already on it,” Alvarez said. “You’ll know logistics as soon as I do.”
“Suit up,” Dain said. His men went to work.
Fionn and Trapper looked to Deacon.
“Get prepped.”
They didn’t blink, just moved to get ready.
Deacon had turned to grab his weapons when a wail rose up from the bedroom. Sydney.
She was sitting up in her bed, rocking, Katie Kitty still clutched in her arms. Her eyes were unseeing, but hysterical cries poured from her lips. Deacon’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. “Little Bit, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.”
His voice seemed to break whatever hold her terror had on her. Frantically she reached for him, sobbing his name. Deacon swept her trembling body into his arms to hold her close. Pet her. Comfort her. He closed his eyes tight.
God almighty, he didn’t know what to do. He needed to be out there, finding Elliot, helping her, killing Mansa and Kivuli and anyone who stood between him and them with his bare hands—and he needed to be here, holding his little girl, keeping her safe, taking away her nightmares. But one of those nightmares had Elliot too. How could he protect them both? How could he make this right for all of them?
His struggle must’ve been obvious, because the next thing he knew, Dain’s hand squeezed down on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do all this alone, you know.”
But he felt like he did. He’d felt like that since Jules took her last breath and left them behind, he and their daughter, to face this world alone. He’d been responsible for Andre’s death, and he’d needed to fix the consequences. But he couldn’t, not by himself. He needed help.
He’d think about how much that sucked ass later.
“Can you run point, get us ready?” he asked Dain.
The man was already walking toward the door. “I’ll try not to feel insulted that you had to even wonder that, much less ask.”
At least his smile this time was genuine, if small. He listened to the sounds of men preparing for battle outside his door while inside, his baby girl curled in his arms and slowly calmed, her body no longer rigid, her tears dying away. When shivers racked her, he tugged up the blanket, cocooning her in warmth, and rocked her quietly. By the time Dain returned, she’d drifted back to sleep.
“We’re ready to move.”
Deacon gave him a nod and stood. After laying Sydney carefully on the bed and covering her once more, he followed Dain into the main bedroom. “Dain.”
The older man turned, one brow lifted.
“You’re staying here.”
“No, I—”
“You’re staying here,” Deacon repeated. “I’m not arguing with you about it. Sydney feels safe with you. We don’t know what we’re walking into, and I’m not willing to risk the only man on your team with a child on an uncertain mission. We’ll have enough men to make your ass redundant.”
Thunder gathered in Dain’s expression. “You have a child too.”
“I know.” And it was tearing him apart to leave her behind, but Dain would take care of her as if she were his own. Deacon had spent a lot of years saying good-bye to his wife so he could do his duty, both in the military and with GFS, and now was no different. Besides... “I have to go to Elliot, Dain. I...”
“You love her.”
Surprise jolted up Deacon’s spine. He’d known it, had said it aloud to Elliot just a few hours ago, but how had Dain...?
Dain arched a brow in his direction. “You’re not going to try and deny it, are you?”
Deacon squirmed, unable to get past the feeling that he was a teenage boy facing some girl’s father and being asked his intentions. “No.”
The approval in Dain’s expression made the teen-boy feeling even stronger. “Good. She needs you. Elliot...she loves as fiercely as she fights, Deacon. If she chooses to let you in? You couldn’t ask for a better gift. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better to help you raise that little girl.”
He just had to make sure Elliot was around to do that, didn’t he?
“Mansa will know their location is blown,” Deacon said. “The element of surprise is gone.”
Dain’s shrug said maybe, maybe not. “You don’t need surprise.”
“We need everything we can use to our advantage.”
“That’s true of every fight, but we take our advantages where we can find them. Or make them.” He clapped Deacon on the shoulder, urging him toward the living room. “That’s what Elliot is doing right now. Don’t let it be a waste of effort.”