Forsaken Duty (Red Team #9)(4)

“Beetle.”

“You’re sure he’s mine?”

“The DNA said so.”

Owen looked out the window. Every part of his body hurt. His head wasn’t on straight. He needed a good night’s sleep, more food and water, and a long, hot shower. If pushed hard now, he’d make a mistake, compromise himself.

He still wasn’t sure which side Jax was on, but if they weren’t on the same one, then he’d gone through hell just to make it look like they were.

A few hours later, they made several turns onto dirt roads in the foothills northwest of Denver before going down a long drive in the middle of a patch of evergreens. Their headlights showed an old, nondescript, one-story farmhouse, like so many others up and down the Front Range. There was a black Expedition parked out front. No lights were on in the place.

Owen checked Jax, wondering if he was expecting anyone. He looked as tired as Owen but showed no signs of tension. The door unlocked when Jax reached for the knob. Lights came on inside. Owen didn’t have to look around to know there were cameras monitoring them and that access had been remotely granted.

Inside, the little farmhouse had been fully renovated. New kitchen, small dining area, new living room with a wall of bookshelves and a TV. Beyond that, there were two bedrooms, both with their own en suites. Simple, clean, and complete with two dinners sitting under warming caps. Owen lifted a brow at Jax.

“I called ahead while you were in the bathroom at our last stop. You’ll find clothes in your room too.” Jax shrugged. “What? Surprised I have my own crew?”

“No. I don’t know you at all anymore.”

“Fine. You can eat, shower, sleep, whatever the hell you want. I’m gonna clean up. You need a doctor?”

“No. You?”

“No. We’ll talk in the morning. I gotta crash.”

Owen went into the second bedroom. A phone and a change of clothes were on the bed—a pair of jeans, black boxer briefs, and a white T-shirt. He and Jax were about the same size. Good thing, because Owen hadn’t packed for a trip. Toiletries were in the bathroom. Probably wouldn’t be shaving for a few days. His face was filled with cuts and bruises. His mouth and jaw were swollen. He looked like road kill. Maybe Jax was right about giving themselves a few days before going to see Addy.

No, fuck that. Owen wasn’t waiting. Not a goddamned minute more than he had to.

He ate his dinner, beef and broccoli on rice. Nothing too hard to chew for his sore jaw. He didn’t have an appetite, in part from the beating he’d taken, but also because they hadn’t been fed the four days they were being questioned—his body had gotten used to having no food. Owen looked at the phone, considering checking in with his team. He knew the phone Jax had given him was keyed in to whatever system he had rigged up. Owen didn’t know what his team might reveal on the other end. And truthfully, he didn’t want them involved; if he was walking into a trap, they couldn’t be anywhere near him.

After dinner, Owen had to decide between sleep or a shower. The bed, with its clean sheets, looked like heaven, but he needed that shower first. The hot water was soothing. He let it spill over him, wash the past few days away.

When he got out, he dressed. Who the hell knew what fun new torture would come as soon as he let his guard down; he didn’t want to face it naked.

He got into bed. His body was screaming. He wondered if he had a broken rib. Addy slipped into his mind. He thought of their childhood together, remembered watching her mature, feeling an unholy hunger for her, wondering if she’d like him when she was a woman.

She was fifteen when he and Jax graduated from West Point and took their commissions in the Army. She’d been eighteen when he and Jax came to her high school graduation party. Twenty-one when she got her college degree.

Twenty-one the day their lives started and ended.

Owen thought back through the small bit of info Jax had told him about her. Not once had he actually said Addy was still alive. For all Owen knew, Jax was taking him to see Addy’s grave.

That thought caused him worse pain than Edwards’ goons had.

He’d lived so long without a heart that it hurt to think of having one once again…and it would be worse to learn his fresh hopes were just smoke and mirrors.

He threw the covers off and stormed into Jax’s room. It was dark. “Wake up, you son of a bitch.” He gripped Jax’s throat and squeezed, lifting him from his mattress.

Jax didn’t fight back.

“Tell me she’s alive.”

Jax broke free of Owen’s grip. He stared at Owen, then scooted himself up to lean back on his pillows.

The delay was all the answer Owen needed. A tear spilled down his swollen cheek. Jesus fucking Christ. He was glad his team wasn’t here to see him break. Addy was the perfect way to torture him. He’d give his soul away to have her back in his life.

His shoulders slumped as he sat there on the edge of Jax’s bed. So many people he’d thought dead had emerged from the shadows of the Omni World Order that it had been a short jump to believe that Addy would, too.

“She is alive, O. But different.”

“How so?”

“We had four days of tender focus from the Omnis. She had years.”

“What happened to her?”

Jax shook his head. “I can’t… I gotta leave that to her to say or not.”