Page 29

Chapter twenty-nine

Fear

Gideon

T he back of my neck tickled something fierce. Never a good sign.

It was as if I had a guardian angel on my shoulder, warning me of imminent danger. But it was how I survived Iraq and Afghanistan. I would get this itch on the back of my neck and knew to be on my guard.

Like now.

Finishing up my security detail, I couldn’t eliminate my concerns. Because Santos was a tricky bastard. He had slipped our efforts to nab him every time we got close. And since my team had tracked him, studying his every move, he had never been this brazen.

The mafia boss had a massive hard-on for Kylie.

I couldn’t allow him to get near her. She was a victim, first by her deceased husband, and now this. When I joined the Marines and then the CIA, I swore an oath to defend victims. They needed me to rain down justice upon those who took advantage of those less fortunate.

But there was something more insidious with Santos’s focus on Kylie. He wanted her for himself. I knew it within the depths of my soul. Chase reported the way he had studied her on the street this morning—like she belonged to him. He fixated on her. Like he would tie her to his bed and knock her up the moment he snatched her up. And if he couldn’t have her, would eliminate her instead.

I’d never allow her to fall victim to that bastard’s depravity. My team had discovered just where his proclivities lay. At his hands, Kylie would suffer the fires of hell. It would happen over my dead body because I would stand between her and Santos until the end of the world.

She thought I was mad at her. And I was, but not for the reason she thought. It infuriated me that she knowingly put herself at risk—to go shopping, of all things. I realized her actions forced Santos to make his move. We wanted him to make a play for her. Kylie was the bait we were dangling to draw him out. But it still pissed me off. Because she did not know the type of monster she was dealing with.

I did.

Santos was a sick bastard. He would hurt her, flay her beautiful skin open before raping her, and would laugh while he did it. The sick fuck would leave her broken and battered until she was a shell of her former self. She wouldn’t come back from it.

One of his victims was in a mental health facility under a near constant suicide watch. The thought of Kylie being that broken made me want to bury anyone who meant her harm. I wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet through Santos’s brain and forgo my need to watch the bastard suffer for what he did to my brother.

And I struggled with guilt. Kylie’s safety challenged my quest for vengeance. Because she was different. She made me feel again. She was the first breath of fresh air after months of breathing sulfur in hell. And there were feelings present. Feelings I’d yet to examine more closely, but they were there. They existed.

Fuck, she made me territorial where she was concerned. I wanted to beat my chest and warn off any man who came near her.

Seeing her in the SUV with Chase and Axel had stirred a ferocious jealousy within me. I had wanted to flay them alive for touching her. The four of us had shared more than a dozen women over the years. Some had been just for the night, and then a select few we’d attempted to create a long-term commitment with. And not once had I ever envied or been pissed at the guys for screwing the woman without me.

Kylie differed from all the others.

I didn’t know how to handle it. Instead of dealing with my feelings, I avoided her. It was a crappy approach. I knew it, but couldn’t force myself until I rectified what I wanted from her beyond the bedroom. Because if I was in this deep after a few cataclysmic, world-altering rounds in her bed, how deep would I go if I went all in?

I wasn’t comfortable with emotions. That shit I compartmentalized and shoved away most days. I had to, otherwise the things I’d seen and done would eat me alive.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I couldn’t shake the sense of impending danger. That damn itch on my neck was going haywire.

Mateo was in the surveillance room, studying the monitors, when I waltzed in. He had set a bed in the corner so he could observe the camera feeds twenty-four-seven. The large sixteen by sixteen bedroom had twelve large screen monitors. Mateo had run extra cables into the room to support all the tech. Each monitor had split screens, divided into four with the camera feed images. There wasn’t a hall or corner or room in the house that he wasn’t watching at all times. Then there were the exterior cameras with night vision. They were motion sensitive and didn’t alert a person that they were actively being recorded. The night vision made it capable of recording without turning on a spotlight.

I did a cursory glance at the screens, checking for movement out of the ordinary.

“Anything?” I asked as I came up beside Mateo in his computer chair.

He shook his head with a yawn. “Nah. It’s all quiet on this front.”

“You sure about that?” I studied the screen with Kylie’s room pulled up. There were multiple cameras in her bedroom. A necessary invasion of her privacy. She appeared fast asleep. Her hair spread out behind her on the pillow. And she looked incredibly young and fragile.

Mateo eyed me. “What’s going on, boss? You’ve got that look.”

I rubbed the back of my neck as the itching sensation increased. “Something doesn’t feel right. I need you to check the feed again. Make sure every camera is online and working properly.”

“Did you see something?” Mateo asked, swiveling back toward the bank of monitors. His fingers flew over the keyboard.

“No. My neck is itching.”

“Shit.” Mateo swore. Years ago, when we were serving in Afghanistan, I got that itch and radioed in that we were re-routing our path back to base. But before we could execute the re-route, we watched the Humvee in front of ours get taken out by a rocket launcher. The Taliban had an ambush waiting for us on the other side of the rise.

We survived. But six Marines died that day.

Later that night, when we were back in our bunks, they asked me how I knew about the ambush. I explained the feeling I got before a mission went sideways. That itch had saved our butts that day because we’d stopped and were backing up to take the road we passed when the others were blown up. “Precisely. And it’s getting worse.”

For the next ten minutes I watched on edge. I couldn’t get past the itch. Mateo searched through footage and lines of code. He was brilliant with computers. He could do things with lines of code that were jaw dropping. The guy had hacked the Pentagon as part of his interview to join the CIA. And even they had been impressed with his skills.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Mateo snapped, seething with anger.

My gut clenched at his fury. “What? Did you find something?”

He jerked his chin, his fingers flying over the keys. “Yep. They fucking hacked me. Me. Goddammit! The system I fucking built. Give me a second to counteract it and take it down. There’s a video stream being fed into the monitors. Whoever the fuck Santos has working for him knows their shit.”

Dread settled over me. It meant we were viewing false footage. What the fuck was Santos planning? “Hurry. Figure out why the fuck—”

“Got it. And this is our feed. He’s been hiding…oh shit, Gideon.”

My heart dropped and then kicked into overdrive. Kylie. She was in danger. There was a man choking her. Already in motion toward the door, I ordered, “Radio Chase and Axel, have them meet me at Kylie’s room. And figure out if the rest of our security systems have been hacked.”

I didn’t wait for confirmation. My feet pounded against the floor. I raced toward her room at the other end of the hall. If she died, it was on me. I’d grown complacent in this posh home with three square meals a day and a woman who looked at me with lust in her eyes.

I reached her bedroom door at a run. But didn’t stop my forward momentum, using it instead I kicked the wooden door. Allowing my fury to surface and mingle with my fear, I stomped at the door again and again.

The door vibrated on its hinges. Wood splintered under my assault.

Footsteps sounded on the floor behind me. With a glance over my shoulder to confirm it was Axel and Chase, I gave the door another hard kick. And finally, thank fuck, it shattered, providing a hole large enough for me to step through.

I turned the door into fucking kindling. I entered through the opening, knowing Chase and Axel would be there in seconds to back me up. Moving through the darkness, in a race against time, I gripped the assailant around the neck and yanked him back. I’d rip the fucker limb from limb for harming her.

He struggled against my hold, smelling like pickles and sweat. Rearing back, I clobbered his jaw with a right hook. It rattled him long enough I could get him away from Kylie.

Then Chase was at my side, helping me restrain him.

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Angel,” Axel roared. He began performing CPR on Kylie’s prone form.

Unholy fury descended upon me. Santos sent this fucker to kill her. Because she’d been out with Chase today.

Enraged, I tossed in a few extra blows. Uncaring when I heard the fucker’s bone in his arm snap. The assailant’s blood curdling yelp of agony filled me with sublime satisfaction before he passed out. Served him right for harming my woman.

And make no mistake, she was mine—ours—and I would end anyone who came near her.

If there was anything I couldn’t stand, it was men who harmed women and children. Men who did that should be fucking castrated.

With the assailant out cold, I glanced at Axel and Kylie. Axel sat, cradling Kylie as she gasped air into her lungs.

“Take care of her. We need to get her throat looked at. Call the doctor, explain what happened, and that she needs to be examined and might need some pain medicine. We need him here within the hour. Chase and I will deal with this asshole.”

Axel nodded. “On it.”

With a last look to ensure she was breathing, Chase and I hauled the unconscious assailant to the basement. I wasn’t above torture. Especially not one of Santos’s men, not after what they did to my brother and his unit. And now Kylie. In this, I would be this asshole’s judge, jury, and executioner. He would not leave this house alive.

“I need you to go patrol the house.” I told Chase after we had the man strapped to a chair.

“But—”

“Did I stutter? I gave you a direct command. I expect you to follow it.”

Chase’s nostrils flared and defiance entered his gaze. But he finally nodded and agreed. “Fine. But leave a piece of him for me.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

Chase muttered, “Fuck.”

“We need to be ready. Something tells me Santos isn’t done yet. When his assassin doesn’t check in, I don’t know what’s coming next, but it won’t be good.”

“Should we pack the gear?”

“Most of it is already packed. But yes, pass the word along to Axel and Mateo quietly. I don’t want to spook Kylie any more than we must. She’s been through enough tonight.”

“Agreed.”

The moment Chase left the room, I made preparations. My six-inch bowie knife gleamed in the overhead light.

Filling a pitcher with ice cold water, I strode over to the assailant and tossed the water over his head. He gasped and sputtered as he came to. His eyes opened and darted around the room. Understanding settled over his features.

His black gaze dropped to the knife in my hand as I approached, and he blanched. Satisfaction blared through me at his unease. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell me everything you know about Santos’s organization and plans, or I remove body parts.”

He spat in my face. “I won’t tell you a thing, asshole.”

I wiped the spittle off my cheek.

“Too bad. I should have told you the body part I like to start with first.” And I knew it was sick and twisted, but you couldn’t be in my line of work and survive without making friends with the darkness within.

I shoved the knife into his crotch. His scream was music to my ears. Before I was done, he would beg me for death.