Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(85)

“No,” she screamed. “Please...”

The rest of her words faded away on the dark night.

Brand realized that he stood waist-deep in the frigid water. His heart felt numb, his lungs unable to get enough air.

Something bumped against his leg, and he looked down to see Sahara’s mangled umbrella washing against the shore. His throat tightened painfully.

“Brand,” Leese said urgently. “Come on. We have to go. Enoch has a tracer on her. You know that. We’ll find her.”

Justice added, “But it’s better if we don’t wait.”

Brand slowly turned, mud sucking at his feet. “Her brother?” he asked with ominous undertones.

“Coming around,” Miles said. “He caught a bullet in the arm, just a graze, I think, but apparently he hit his head when he went down. I guess that’s why the goons thought he was dead, why they left him and took her instead.”

Fury carried Brand to where Scott Silver sat on the sodden ground, his back propped against the log, his head hanging forward.

Sahara’s phone, still lit up, lay on the ground beside him. Brand picked it up and put it in his pocket. His heart started to pound in thundering beats.

With one hand, he hauled Scott to his tiptoes and rattled him. “You ignorant fucker! Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I was careful,” Scott muttered, wincing with the pain in his head and arm. “No one followed me, so they must have followed you.”

Driven by blind rage, Brand cocked back a fist—and Justice captured it. Calm to the point of morbid, he said, “Stop and think, man. If you kill him, Sahara will never forgive you.”

“You heard her,” Miles said with his own measure of anger. “She’s worried about the bastard. For her sake, we have to take care of him.”

“I can take care of myself,” Scott growled.

It required three deep breaths before Brand was able to open his fingers and let Scott drop back flat on his feet. He retrieved his fist from Justice, who gave him an apologetic whack on the back.

“His head, damn it,” Leese said. “Go easy, will you. You saw him get conked.”

“Butt of a gun, it looked like,” Miles said. “Sorry we didn’t get here quick enough.”

“I’m fine,” Brand lied...and immediately thought of how Sahara had said the same, how she’d stubbornly insisted it was so. Despite her denials, she was still hurt, and now unscrupulous bastards had her again. “After I get her back,” Brand told Scott, “I plan to finish this.”

“Suit yourself.” Scott clenched a hand around his bleeding arm. “But we have to move now.” As if he thought he could take charge of the situation, he started for the car, saying, “Tell me who has the tracer on her. How well do you know him? And how many cars did you bring? Jesus, it’s no wonder you were—”

He squawked when Justice and Miles each grabbed one of his arms and practically threw him into the back of the SUV. Miles climbed in behind him. Brand followed.

Justice got in the front passenger seat and Leese got behind the wheel.

“What the hell is this?” Scott demanded, looking a little wary when Brand turned on the flashlight.

“Take off your coat.” He located the first aid kit and opened it. For Sahara, he’d keep her asshole brother alive—for now.

“I don’t need—”

Miles said, “No one gives a shit what you need. We’re doing this for Sahara, so take off the fucking coat.”

From the front, Leese said, “I’m calling Enoch now, so keep it down.”

Silently, Scott struggled out of his coat. “I know Enoch. He has the tracer?”

No one replied, and no one moved to help him with his coat, but as he eased his arm from the sleeve, Brand saw the blood everywhere and quietly cursed.

Enoch answered on the first ring. “Everything okay?”

Leese said, “They got her, Enoch. We need to know which way to go.”

“Oh God.” Worry sharpened his voice. “Oh Jesus.”

“Stop praying and give us directions,” Justice ordered.

“I’m on it, I’m on it. Let me see...” The seconds ticked by.

Needing to occupy himself, Brand got out cleaning swabs, gauze pads and tape. His eyes burned and his guts churned.

She had to be okay. He had to have a chance to tell her how much she meant to him. She was...everything.

Every. Fucking. Thing.

If they touched her, if they hurt her, he’d—

“Okay,” Enoch said, breathing hard. “They’re on 71 heading toward 75. How long before you can be on the highway?”

“They crossed the river in a boat, so they have the jump on us. Maybe fifteen minutes or so, given traffic—once I reach the actual roadway.”

Justice glanced over the seat. “Hold on. It’ll be bumpy for a bit.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Miles said.

Leese drove fast over the rough terrain, anxious to get them on solid ground. Every second felt like an hour.

“Take off the shirt,” Miles said quietly.

Solemn, Scott did as directed.

“How bad is your head?”

“Mild concussion, probably,” Scott said.