Page 36

Ayla sat on the bench, eyes glued to the back of the house, waiting for Oz to come out with her sister. She couldn’t sense her, not right now, but she was certain Io was inside.

Rusty paced the area, moving silently. He called it patrolling. They didn’t chat. Ayla didn’t need anyone to tell her they were too close to two different homes to have a conversation. Besides, her guard didn’t seem to want any distractions. He took Oz’s orders to keep her safe seriously.

Nothing was going on at the house and she watched Rusty walk back and forth.

It wasn’t hard to guess how he’d gotten his nickname.

Although she couldn’t see it now, under the helmet he had dark auburn hair and there was his beard.

He had to be in his mid-twenties, but there was an earnestness about him that made him seem younger.

Her gaze drifted back to the house. She was worried about Oz. He didn’t take her seriously about her twin being inside, and because of that, she wasn’t confident he or his friend would use the caution necessary. The kidnapper could be in there with Io.

Breathing became difficult around the lump in her throat and Ayla forced herself to relax. Stressing herself didn’t help her sister or Oz.

Besides, it increased her nausea. She started feeling sick again while they were driving. Luckily Oz hadn’t noticed, or he might have used it as an excuse not to come here. Ayla rested her hand over her stomach and willed it to settle down.

Think about something else.

Her sister. She would need to take Io to a doctor.

After being drugged for days with heaven knew what, she should be checked over.

Ayla didn’t know if she could trust any of the doctors here.

What if they were watching for a blonde woman to come in and contacted the mobsters?

She wouldn’t put it past Petrova to have bribed people.

It didn’t even need to be the doctor, it could be someone who worked in the office.

Didn’t Green Berets have medics? Ayla remembered seeing or reading something like that. That might be the best way to start. Let one of Oz’s teammates check Io out, and if he deemed it necessary, then she would risk a doctor.

There went two minutes. Still no sign of Oz or Ski. Her stomach roiled, and Ayla swallowed hard.

Why was she concerned about Oz, anyway? He had training, he could take care of himself, and his friend was with him to help if they ran into trouble. Her feelings for him should be dead, killed by the way he manipulated her.

And it was a lie. As much as she didn’t want to still love him, she did.

It must be a character flaw. Loving a man she couldn’t trust was a sure way to heartbreak. Ayla might be forced to co-parent with him, but that didn’t mean she had to be all goo-goo-eyed over the man.

Her stomach spun harder, and she tried to find something else to think about.

She couldn’t spot anything to take her mind off the situation.

She was torn between worrying about her sister, worrying about Oz, or mulling over how important trust was to a relationship. All topics that made her feel queasier.

The baby. She could think about him or her.

Ayla had a two-bedroom apartment. It would take some decluttering, but she could move her home office into a corner of her bedroom and set up the second room as a nursery without too much effort. Io would help.

She didn’t want something designer perfect, a showplace for an adult. No, she wanted somewhere the baby would feel cozy, safe, and loved.

Pale green, maybe. Or a light shade of yellow.

Cheerful, happy colors. Leaning back, Ayla considered furniture.

A white crib and dresser? Definitely, a rocking chair where she could cuddle her son or daughter and nurse them.

And when they were older, she could read bedtime stories while they sat on her lap.

There were so many things she would need to learn, but Ayla’s lips curved, anyway. Being a single parent wouldn’t be easy, and she didn’t even know where Oz lived, but when her sister was in Los Angeles, she’d lend a hand.

She and Io were a team. Always had been, always would be. Her sister would have her back.

Just like Ayla had her twin’s back now.

Her focus returned to the house. Part of her view was obscured by the trees and bushes. She wondered if this area had been cleared; the bench placed here as a meditation spot. She bet it was pretty in the morning, a nice tranquil place to ponder life before the world awoke.

Her stomach rolled over, and Ayla swallowed hard again. She couldn’t start throwing up, not now. She had to be strong, had to be ready to help her sister when Oz brought her outside.

Rusty froze, and his hand hovered near the pistol he had strapped to his leg.

Ayla forgot about her queasiness and glanced around. What had he seen?

It took her a moment to look at the street. Two cars were parked in front of the house now, and as she watched, a third one joined them. Men spilled out of the vehicles. Ayla counted ten, but they were moving around, so she could be off with her number.

Men came around the side, into the backyard. They moved stealthily, sidling closer to the house. Terror stopped the need to vomit.

She couldn’t see much. Although she’d pushed the binoculars Oz called NVD off her face because the green glow was weird, Ayla knew what was happening. She knew!

The mobsters were going into the house. Oz, Ski, and her sister would be cornered. They were outmanned and outgunned. Not even two Green Berets could survive this.

Oz exchanged a glance with Ski. They were thinking the same thing. It was a trap. This was the perfect place for a trip wire.

If Ayla were with them, she would have rushed to her sister’s side. Making it through the house unscathed would have led to overconfidence in someone without the training he and Ski had.

From the hallway, he could see less than two-thirds of the room. Ambush was another possibility. They would have to move slowly and carefully.

With a few gestures, he and his teammate were on the same page.

They would need to handle the room as if there were enough C4 inside to put a crater on the moon.

Or a gunman waiting in the closet. They should have put on the vests with plates that could stop a round from an assault rifle.

He’d taken this whole thing lightly, believing Ayla was imagining things, that it was nothing but some ordinary family home.

The doorway and the area inside it were clear. Oz signaled he’d take lead. This was his mission, his mistake; he should go first.

As he entered, Oz immediately turned to the largest uncleared sector, pistol in hand. Ski came in behind him, and he knew his teammate would take the smaller corner they were unable to see from the hallway. “Clear,” Oz reported.

“Copy. Clear here.”

“Copy that.” The closet was on his side. Oz studied it, searching for some sign it would go off if he opened the door. It looked clean. Jerking the door open, he checked both sides. “Clear,” he said. Nothing was inside, not even a hanger.

Yeah, it definitely looked as if someone had bugged out before they got here, leaving the furniture, bedding, and dishes behind.

And Iona Desmond, of course.

But Oz wasn’t making any assumptions and he sure as hell wasn’t dropping his guard. With only two of them, someone could come into the house behind them and they’d be fucked, trapped in this room.

The bed was a mattress on a wooden frame. It would be a simple thing to put some C4 under the base.

He and Ski were both large. It would be hard for either of them to look. His mission. Signaling his intentions, Oz got on his back on the wood floor and moved until he was under the frame. Taking his time, he examined everything, every joint, every seam.

“Clear,” he reported. Oz slid out and stood.

That left explosives below Iona’s body.

It was risky. If she moved, she could set them off. The kidnapper might not even have time to get out of the house.

Unless she was dead.

His chest knotted up. It would kill Ayla to lose her twin.

Oz stared until he saw her chest move. Not dead. That was definitely a breath, not some post-mortem reaction. To make sure, he carefully felt her neck.

“I have a pulse. It’s slow, but there.”

“Her body appears clear,” Ski said. “We’ll be okay to move her.”

Considering the possibilities, Oz frowned. “Maybe we should call for a medic before we haul her out of here.”

“We’re sitting ducks in this room. Hell, even in this house,” Ski said.

“Copy that.” The kidnappers could return. They abandoned the house in a hurry, but they might come back for Iona.

There were neighbors to worry about, too. All it took was one nosy person to notice something and call it in. “Let's get her to the SUV and bring her somewhere safe. I’ll contact Baggs to meet us there.”

“You got her, or do you want me to carry her?” Ski asked.

“I can—” A sound stopped Oz mid-sentence. He heard movement on the first floor. If it was Ayla, he would fucking reprimand Rusty and approach the captain to have him removed from the team. That would be one screw-up too many.

It could also be the kidnappers returning for Iona.

More sounds reached him. Not Ayla. Probably not the kidnappers. The movements suggested someone was clearing the house the same way he and Ski had.

Softly spoken words filtered up the stairs, and Oz stiffened.

Russian.

Petrova’s men. Fuck.