Page 48 of Gabe (Blue Team #2)

I was waiting another five minutes then I was going to do two things—rip the blood pressure cuff off of my arm and get the hell out of bed.

Dr. Lexington had done her thing. She’d been accompanied by a too-young Dr. Westing.

A boy-doctor who very obviously wanted to impress Dr. Lexington with his newly acquired medical degree and spent fifteen very long minutes spouting off every medical term he’d learned.

It seemed he liked long, complicated words.

This didn’t impress Dr. Lexington and she made short work of nixing all the tests Dr. Westing wanted to run.

Thank fuck.

Dr. I-Just-Got-My-Medical-License wanted to keep me under observation for another week. And with all the tests he wanted to run he’d need more than that to get them all done.

Forty-eight hours was what Dr. Lexington ordered.

Two more damn days.

I found this unacceptable. Dr. Lexington disagreed. So two more days it was.

But at least she’d okayed the damn cath to be removed—which was a painful experience even if the nurse had done what she could to make it more comfortable.

It wasn’t my proudest moment and I was happy Evette was not present to hear me whimper.

What can I say, that shit hurt like a motherfucker.

But it meant I could get up and move around as long as someone was in the room.

“Have that big guy next to you,” she’d said, referring to Zane.

I gave her my promise and she left, taking Doogie Howser M.D. with her.

Now I was waiting for Zane to get back and a nurse to remove the cuff after a final reading for my chart.

The door to my room swung open and Zane strode in.

Not the nurse. Not Evette. Though Zane was the third-best person, Evette being the one I wanted to see most. But before she got back I needed information from him.

He was holding something back; with Joe London in the room I understood.

But Joe was gone, likely using his time to convince his daughter to leave me.

The thought burned my gut. Evette didn’t need any added stress or pressure. And I was in no state to get up and physically shield her from her father’s onslaught. That did burn—it ate away at my insides.

Another way I was failing.

“Heard you got the tube out of your cock.” That was what Zane led with. Asshole.

I flipped him off and muttered, “So much for HIPAA laws.”

“Jealous much?”

“Jealous you talked to my nurse and she broke protocol and gave you sensitive information. Hardly.”

“I’ll agree your poor peepee is probably sensitive but—”

“Did you just call my cock a peepee?”

“Touchy. Touchy.” Zane rolled his eyes and smirked.

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“A dick with dimples and blue eyes.”

“Does your wife know you flirt to get intel?”

“Of course she does. She encourages it. In her opinion, any way I can extract intel without getting blood on my clothes is a good strategy.”

I was ending this stupid conversation. Zane could spend all day talking about his wife and his dimples and his blue eyes that did indeed get him his way most of the time. God knows it wasn’t his winning personality that had hooked his wife .

“What’s going on with Myles and Kevin? Did they find Delilah?”

Zane sighed like an unhappy teenager now that the topic of cocks and peepees was off the table.

“They’re in Mexico.”

“Mexico. What the fuck? I thought Abe had a good idea where they were in California?”

“He did. They went to Dulzura, talked to a few locals, and a rancher saw a car he didn’t know pull down a lane to a house that’s used as a vacation home.

He didn’t recognize the car and went to check it out.

When the rancher questioned the man about what he was doing there, he had all the right information about the landowner.

The rancher figured he was just renting the place and left him to it.

But a few hours later the rancher didn’t like the feel of the man.

Said something felt off. So he went back and when he got there the guy was gone.

Not only did the rancher memorize the plate number he also has cameras set up at the end of his driveway, which you have to pass to get to the other property.

We got video of Delilah and the driver. Guy’s name is Tamir Cohen. ”

“Tamir Cohen? Why do I know that name?”

“Remember the girls’ school in Uganda?”

I didn’t need to pull up specifics of that mission from my memory bank.

That mission was forever seared into my retinas.

Fifty girls and teachers had been butchered by a terror organization.

A hundred more had been taken hostage. My SEAL platoon had worked with an Israeli Defense Force Special Forces unit—Yamam.

They were bad to the bone, no joke, highly trained commandos.

The best CT and rescue unit the IDF had.

Together we freed the hostages. Yamam lost one soldier that day. Isaac Cohen.

“Holy fuck. Isaac Cohen.”

“Isaac Cohen,” Zane confirmed. “His brother Tamir left Shayetet 13 and transferred to his brother’s unit. When Tamir was with Yamam he met his brother’s friend, Aviv Abrams. After their time in the IDF Aviv started Abrams Industries and Tamir was hired as head of security.”

“Something doesn’t sound right, Z. I went to Isaac’s service.

I can’t say I knew him or his family. But the Cohens are legends in IDF and that was before Isaac died.

Tamir, Isaac, and their sister were raised in the US, yet all three went to Israel to serve.

Layla Cohen did four years with Karakal in a combat role.

After that, she joined the border police force and was with the Magav unit.

They’re known as a family of service, going to their father’s homeland to fulfill a duty they all held sacred.

I cannot believe Tamir turned into what amounts to an errand boy to clean up Aviv’s messes. That doesn’t jibe.”

“People change.”

“Do they? So much they’d turn their back on their morals and beliefs? Isaac died saving lives. Layla fought in a combat role. Tamir wanted to honor his brother by serving in his old unit. I’m telling you, Zane, something doesn’t sound right.”

“It might not sound right, but Tamir has Delilah. He took her into Mexico. I saw the border crossing footage myself. His arrival in California fits the Forrest Lawson murder.”

“Maybe he’s helping Delilah?”

I was reaching and I knew it. But, fuck me, Tamir Cohen had once been one of the best commandos Shayetet 13 had ever trained. I couldn’t believe he’d turned.

“Brother, she was gagged in the front seat. He’s not who he was.”

A bone-chilling thought raced up my spine.

“Myles and Kevin need backup.”

“And they’ll have it.”

“Who are you sending?”

“Linc, Leo, Colin, Jax, and Garrett are en route.”

“Has Garrett been in the field in the last five years?”

Zane cut me a look that told me I was being an obnoxious asshole.

And I was. These days Garrett sat behind his desk with his keyboards and computer monitors.

Not because he had to, but because he preferred it.

However, you could argue that Garrett was actually the deadliest out of the group.

He was pulled from his SEAL team and disappeared for years.

Zane might know what Garrett had done while he was dark, but none of the rest of us knew.

Garrett resurfaced then went dark again, only that time it was his choice to go off the radar.

Where he went during that year was unknown, all he would say about it was he needed to find himself.

When he came back, he joined Z Corps and took a desk job.

I dropped the topic of Garrett and moved back to Abrams.

“What’d you hit Abrams with?”

“The intel. I have Aviv’s word Evette’s off-limits.

He’ll forget she exists or I release what we have.

He’s dropping the lease deals in Timor-Leste and El Salvador but moving forward with Croatia.

I leave Dr. Gates alone and don’t disrupt his research, and in return, we don’t see or hear from Aviv again. ”

Shit. Fuck. And damn.

Zane had brokered a good deal. Evette was safe…or was she?

“And Delilah? You’re supposed to let her swing, aren’t you?”

“Yep. He wants her eliminated. Called her a traitor.”

“Goddamn, Z. When Aviv finds out you sent in a team to rescue Delilah there will be hell to pay.”

“Likely he’ll be pissed.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Zane.”

“But he can be pissed all he fucking wants. I’m not letting the woman be murdered. Aviv Abrams can throw a tantrum and go to war with me or he can be smart and give me Delilah. Either way, I’m gonna destroy the fucker.”

I didn’t miss the venom in Zane’s tone. It was more than his normal gruff off-the-cuff comments he made when he was unhappy.

“Why?”

A beat of silence turned into three before Zane pulled in a breath, exhaled, and tore off the mask.

“Because you’re right. A good man, a man who served faithfully, honored his brother, sister, his family.

Served a country that was not his own but his father’s out of a greater sense of moral duty doesn’t turn his back on that unless there’s a reason.

And my gut is telling me that Aviv Abrams is that reason.

And no matter what Tamir Cohen has done, I have a deep obligation to help a brother who has lost his way.

If I’m correct and Aviv has somehow twisted Tamir into his personal death dealer, I won’t bat an eyelash when I take him down. ”

Shit. I got that. But selfishly, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about Tamir Cohen. I cared about Evette and her safety.

“But,” Zane continued. “That’s for later.

Evette’s clear and will remain that way.

You have my word on that. So now all you need to do is worry about getting your woman’s apartment packed up and moved to your waterfront mansion, buy her the expensive car we all know you’re gonna buy her, and spoil the hell out of her like we all know you’re gonna do.

We have other shit to worry about besides.

Owen’s hard-pressing we take this Bronson Williams guy seriously and look into his brother’s death.

The problem is I have a hard time taking anyone seriously who thinks he’s the Riddler for some bad superhero movie sending me lame-assed attempts to scare me.

But I gotta take time and look into the death of Aaron Cardon.

I don’t have time for that shit either. Not the threat that this idiot’s gonna throw rocks at me, and on a ten year old solved case that has nothing to do with me. ”

“Owen thinks Bronson Williams will escalate,” I told Zane.

“To what? Lighting bags of dog shit on our front porches? Who the fuck cares? Once a week I get a threat from real people I need to worry about. Men who know how to dismember a body and build explosives. I’ll look into Aaron Cardon—later.

As in maybe a year or two from now. In the meantime, I have to get you and Evette settled and prepare for Myles, Kevin, and Cooper.

And something tells me we better brace when Coop’s time comes around.

He acts all laidback and carefree, joking around, happy to be in Maryland near his family.

But there’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s gonna fight this shit until the bitter end.

You pass that shit on to Myles and Kev and watch him. ”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Women, brother. Women . We got three left and something tells me the worst is yet to come.”

That was seriously bad news. We’d had back-to-back fucked-up situations.

“Maybe Coop will meet a nice girl. You know, a barista or something. And Myles doesn’t like drama. I can see him with a teacher. Kevin’s already said he’s got his eye on this hooker; she books by the week so he’ll be set until he runs out of money.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy him another hooker,” Zane groaned.

“I didn’t. He’s an ungrateful ass. I was trying to help him out; his dry spell was depressing as hell. He repaid me with a black eye and I was out two grand.”

It was a joke. I hadn’t expected Kev to actually sleep with her, but I figured he’d get a good laugh like the rest of us had. He didn’t think it was funny and neither did I when I was sitting on my couch with an icepack on my face and blood on my tee.

“Kev’s sensitive.” Zane’s lips twitched.

Kevin wasn’t sensitive. He was made of stone.

“So, we're good?” I asked.

“We’re all good. Get some rest. Then we’ll get you home and settled with your woman.”

That sounded like a damn good plan.

Home with my woman .