Into the Lair (Falcon Mercenary Group #2)(29)

Braden slid a hand over her shoulder comfortingly. An alarming prickle skirted up his spine and squeezed his nape. He snatched his hand away and cupped the back of his neck.

Ian shot him a sharp look, and Braden looked away, closing his eyes wearily.

“One thing at a time, Katie,” Ian said as he stepped closer. Was it an attempt to get between Braden and Katie? The man appreciated the idea that Ian was ready to step in. The beast growled deep within.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He sucked in deep breaths through his nose, his nostrils flaring with the effort.

“We’ll eliminate the threats as they present themselves,” Ian said calmly. “You won’t be alone anymore.”

Braden lost Ian’s voice as a dull roar began in his ears. He jerked up from the bed like a puppet and staggered toward the door, his only purpose to escape. Instead, from the void, he heard Ian’s harsh command for Katie to get out and stay out. Before he could protest, Ian tackled him.

They went down in a tangle on the floor, Ian’s heavy body sprawled over his. He struggled weakly, and then a cool blast of aerosol hit him in the face. Seconds later, the jab of a needle made him flinch. His body went lax and fatigue swarmed over him with the speed of a bullet.

He was dimly aware of the battle between the man and the cat. For a few moments, he felt what the cat felt, saw what it saw, smelled what it smelled. And then the beast retreated with a low snarl.

For the moment he’d won.

Ian’s low curses registered in the distance.

“Braden, talk to me, man.”

Braden groaned and tried to open his eyes but the sedative Ian had injected was too powerful. His body jerked as Ian hauled him to his feet, and he stumbled. He went down like falling timber, hitting the bed with a thump.

Ian looked down at his brother and swore. Then he swiveled and saw Katie staring from across the room. She was backed against the wall in a defensive posture, and her gaze was locked warily on Braden.

“What’s wrong with him?” she demanded. “What’s wrong with both of you? Do you have some sort of seizure disorder?”

Ian latched gratefully onto the opening she unwittingly offered, because he sure as hell had no intention of telling her just how close she’d come to being cat food.

“Something like that,” he muttered. “Look, we need to get on the road. We’re sitting ducks. Let’s get everything into the truck and then you need to help me get Braden out of here.”

She froze, her body stiff against the wall.

His eyes narrowed as he stared impatiently at her. “You’re not still holding on to the stupid idea of going it alone are you?”

A hysterical-sounding laugh escaped her lips. “You’re asking me to trust two ex-military guys with some funky seizure disorder who’ve done nothing but f**k things up for me ever since they walked into my life. Yeah, real hard choice here.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Ian said. “Get your things and head out to the truck or I’ll stuff you in the back myself.”

Rage flared in her eyes, and to his surprise, she stalked over and got into his face. Oh hell, did she have to get that close? He was already having a devil of a time keeping the cat from rearing its head. One whiff of her, and he’d be shit out of luck. Braden wouldn’t be able to help him this time.

“What you can do is back the f**k off,” she snarled as she rose up on tiptoe to get a better angle into his eyes. “I am tired of men with more brawn than brains. I’m tired of being manhandled and pushed around. You touch me, and so help me God, I’ll castrate you.”

“I don’t have time for your tantrum,” Ian said in a bored tone. “If you want to stick around and let Ricardo’s men grab you so you can be his plaything then knock yourself out. Braden and I are out of here.”

It was chancy, calling her bluff, because he had a feeling she’d tell him to f**k off and head out on her own. That wasn’t something he could let her do, not when she represented their best chance at drawing Esteban out.

Indecision flickered in Katie’s eyes as she glanced between him and Braden. For a moment he caught a glimpse of her bone-deep fatigue and the worry she tried so hard to conceal. Against his will, he softened.

With a brief shake of her head, she squared her shoulders and went over to grab one of the bags. She didn’t say a word as she left the room. Ian smiled slightly and turned back to Braden.

He was hoisting Braden up from the bed when Katie returned. All vestiges of vulnerability were gone, replaced by a hard shell. Her don’t-f*ck-with-me look was back in spades.

“I’m not going to be a whole hell of a lot of help,” she muttered as she surveyed Braden’s sagging body.

“Just get underneath his other arm and make sure he doesn’t fall,” Ian said. “I’ll bear most of his weight.”

She shrugged and then wiggled under Braden’s other shoulder. She wrapped one arm around his waist and gripped his wrist with her other.

Ian headed for the door, dragging Braden’s considerable weight with him. Katie struggled but bore up well. They stumbled into the sunshine, and Ian squinted as he scanned the area. Things were quiet, and only the sounds of distant traffic permeated the air.

“Let’s go,” he muttered.

They managed to shove Braden into the backseat and shut the door.