Into the Mist (Falcon Mercenary Group #1)(24)

She sank onto the couch and held her hands over her face. “I know. Damn it, I know.”

Mad Dog sat down beside her and for a long moment neither of them spoke. She turned to him, finally breaking the silence.

“I don’t know what to do, Mad Dog,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to help him, and it’s killing me.”

Mad Dog touched her face. “You need some ice on that or it’s going to swell.”

She sighed as he got up and walked over to the minibar to get some ice. Her head ached like a son of a bitch.

“Get me a drink too. Hell, and fire up one of your joints.”

Chapter Eight

“You’re getting sloppy, Eli.”

Eli raised one eyebrow as he stared at Ian Thomas over his beer. “Sloppy? I think I might be insulted.”

Braden strolled in, a baseball cap shoved over his eyes, and sat down next to Ian. Concern flickered in Ian’s eyes before he shifted his attention back to Eli.

“You didn’t exactly cover your tracks very well. Registering your flight plan from Paris? Flying into frickin’ Buenos Aires? Making enough noise to wake the dead? Shit, we’ll have the damn U.S. government back on our asses. We’re supposed to lay low, pretend to be dead or something, according to Uncle Sam.”

A smile curved Eli’s lips. “My actions were purely intentional, I assure you.”

“That’s what bugs me,” Braden muttered, speaking for the first time.

Eli stared at the two brothers and sighed. And then another thought occurred to him. “Where the f**k is Gabe? He was supposed to be keeping an eye on you two.”

“We don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” Ian growled.

“Who needs Gabe when Ian fulfills those requirements perfectly?” Braden muttered.

Ian glanced sideways at Braden. “You’re more unstable than I am, little brother. Someone has to look after your ass.”

Braden snorted. “I haven’t shifted in three days. But gee, I happened to see a f**king jaguar skulking around the grounds yesterday. I wonder who that could be.”

“Shut the f**k up,” Ian said.

“Both of you shut the f**k up and listen,” Eli interjected. “Not that I don’t love listening to you two argue, but we have things to do.”

“Such as?” Ian asked.

“Preparing for a visitor.” Eli couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

He had their full attention now.

Braden stared at him for a moment. “So the sloppiness was to lure someone here, I take it?”

Eli nodded.

“Who?” Ian demanded.

“Tyana Berezovsky.”

Braden frowned. “The name is familiar. Am I supposed to know who she is?”

Ian drummed his fingers on his knees then gave Eli a sharp look. “Damiano Ruiz’s sister? Doesn’t she belong to Falcon?”

Eli nodded. “Yep. And she’s after me. She looked me up in Singapore. I returned the favor in Paris. She’ll come after me next.”

“You seem so sure of that,” Braden said.

“Oh, she’ll come,” Eli said softly. “And I plan to be ready for her.”

“What does she want?” Ian asked.

“That I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

* * *

Tyana settled into a cross-legged position and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to ease the wooziness brought on by too much to drink and a few too many joints.

The salty ocean breeze helped clear her head some as she focused her stare at a distant point on the horizon. She’d crawled down to her favorite getaway spot to do some hard thinking and plotting.

From the deck, she’d had to climb over the railing, drop down to the rock outcropping and shimmy around the face of the cliff. Several feet below, a boulder jutted out from the rock face. The flat surface offered an area large enough to sit on and enjoy the view of the ocean crashing below her.

It was her one seclusion away from everyone else. No one ever bothered her here, though she had no doubt Jonah knew of its location. He made it his business to know everything.

A deflated sigh escaped her. True, Jonah made her angry, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay that way. He’d saved her and D, taken them from scraggly street kids to honed fighters. She’d always owe him for that, and for that reason, he had her loyalty. Loyalty that would be sorely tested by what she had to do.

After seeing what had happened to D earlier, she knew she couldn’t wait to act. If there was any chance, no matter how slight, she had to seize it. He wouldn’t last much longer.

Grief knotted her throat and pressed painfully against her chest. She couldn’t lose D. She wouldn’t. He’d been hers since she was a child. Her earliest memories were of the orphanage and of Damiano, an older boy, skinny, with big brown eyes and enough courage to sustain them both during their rough years at the institution.

He’d fought for her more times than she could count, and now, when he couldn’t fight for himself, she would. Or die trying.

She stayed out long after the sun had slipped over the horizon. She watched as, one by one, the stars popped into the night sky. Instead of being soothed by the sounds of the waves below her, she grew tenser the longer she sat.

Plans rolled and formulated in her mind. Jonah presented a huge obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. Seeing Damiano in pain, writhing on the floor, had provided her all the motivation she needed. He was running out of time.