Forged in Steele (KGI #7)(94)

“Caldwell has lost his shit,” Hancock said, not mincing words. “Where is Maren? Is she safe with you?”

Steele’s gaze narrowed and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

Hancock sent him a weary stare. “Look, we don’t have time to f**k around and have a pissing match over territory and who has the bigger dick. There’s a lot you need to know and fast. Maren isn’t safe and you need to know what you’re up against.”

“So you’re here to warn me,” Steele said, one eyebrow cocked upward.

“Believe what the f**k you want. Do you want the intel or not?”

Steele stared a long moment and then slowly nodded. Then he turned, gesturing toward the door. “Stand down,” he said into the radio. “He’s coming in, but maintain your position.”

As he opened the door he fixed Hancock with a fierce glare. “You do anything to frighten or upset Maren and I’ll make whoever did that to you look like an amateur. Got it?”

Hancock nodded. “Despite what you may think of me, I have no desire to see an innocent person hurt. I have an objective. Something you should understand. Succeed at all cost. Nothing gets in the way.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Steele said in a deadly soft tone. “If you’re trying to compare yourself to me to ease your conscience, that’s bullshit. I don’t use innocent people to achieve my objective.”

Hancock pushed in until he and Steele were nose to nose, neither backing down.

“Tell me something, ice man—yeah, I know what they call you—if there was a threat to Maren, if your objective was to keep her safe, would you give a damn who you hurt to achieve that goal? Would you give a damn who you had to use, or what you had to do to keep her alive?”

Steele stared back, unable to respond, because Hancock was dead on. Steele would do anything to protect Maren and keep her from harm. And he wouldn’t give a damn who he hurt in the process.

“So what’s your Kryptonite, Hancock?” Steele murmured. “What’s your motivation for your relentless pursuit of your goal? You used Grace. You used Maren. What’s driving you?”

Hancock’s gaze became shuttered and he stiffened. “We’re wasting time on useless bullshit.”

Steele knew he’d hit a sore spot, and yeah, who really gave a f**k what motivated Hancock. If he had intel that Maren was in danger, Steele damn well wanted to know about it.

As soon as they entered the living room, Maren gasped, her eyes widening in alarm when she saw Hancock. He didn’t know if it was because she feared his arrival or if she was shocked over his appearance.

He soon had his answer when Maren shoved by Baker and hurried up to Hancock.

“What on earth happened to you?” she demanded.

As she spoke, she reached up, probing one of the lacerations to his scalp.

“This needs stitching and it looks like your nose is broken. Did Tristan do this? Is it because you helped me get away?”

Hancock looked bemused by the rapid-fire questions and even more befuddled that Maren seemed concerned about him. He reared back so his head was out of reach.

“I have a lot I need to tell both of you,” Hancock said, looking between Maren and Steele.

“Well, you can tell us while I stitch those wounds. Steele, you have a med kit. Can you send Baker for it? Surely you have a suture kit.”

Steele swallowed back the smile that threatened. There was nothing remotely amusing about the situation, but he found it hilarious that Maren was barking orders like a seasoned drill sergeant and didn’t seem the least intimidated by Hancock.

Baker hurried to get the med kit and then Steele dismissed him to take watch with the others.

Moments later, Hancock was sitting on one of the stools at the bar in the kitchen while Maren focused intently on stitching his wounds.

“You need to watch your six,” Hancock said to Steele as Steele stood close by. No way Steele was leaving Maren with Hancock without Steele Velcroed to her side. “Caldwell has lost his shit.”

“Yeah, you said that already. But what does that mean? Did you shut him down? Why are you here and not wherever he is?”

“The entire situation was FUBAR,” Hancock said in disgust. “Caldwell went off the deep end after I got Maren out. Before, he played it cool. I was never in favor of him taking Maren. He could have hired anyone to do what he wanted her to do. I knew he had the hots for her, but I didn’t realize the full extent of his obsession.

“I kept Maren with us because I wanted to appease Caldwell and keep him focused on the deal he was working with the guy I’m after. Caldwell was just a means to an end. I was counting on him to lead me to Maksimov.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. Ivan Maksimov? The Russian?”

“I see you’ve heard of him,” Hancock said.

“Who the hell hasn’t?”

“Uh, me?” Maren said, pausing in her work.

Both men ignored her.

“You’re taking down Maksimov?” Steele asked. Despite his deep dislike of Hancock, the man had balls for going after Ivan Maksimov. This was a man not to be f**ked with. He was feared—with good reason. He had a reputation for being utterly ruthless. It was rumored he’d killed one of his own children in front of its mother as punishment for the mistress defying him. Later he’d sold the woman into sexual slavery and when she attempted to help Interpol agents by feeding them information, her mutilated body had been found. In pieces.