Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(15)

She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut at the idea of ever being able to be that analytical when it came to the monsters who’d killed her family.

That would come later. For now she had to concentrate on remaining safe and undetected.

First she checked into a dive motel, giving a fake name and a story about her purse being stolen with all her ID. The clerk hadn’t cared about anything other than her ability to pay, and when she produced cash, he gave her a key without question.

The next item on her agenda was to walk into a salon and undergo a radical change in her appearance. The hairdresser had been dubious about her decision to dye her honey blond hair dark brown, but she’d shrugged and done the job.

It wasn’t the first time Shea had dyed her hair. She’d changed her appearance every few months. Since she’d been back to blond in her last close call, she chose dark and she’d switch to the brown-colored contacts.

In other circumstances, it would have amused her that over the last year she’d been a redhead, a blonde, several shades of brunette, and her eyes had been a range of green, blue and brown.

She’d go back to blond the next time she moved. The important part was that whenever she left an area, that same woman didn’t appear somewhere else.

Back at her hotel, she took the handgun out of her bag and placed it on the nightstand so it would be within easy reach. The rest of her things she left packed in case she needed to make a fast getaway.

She was starving, but she was more exhausted. She sank onto the bed, grimaced at the hard lumpy mattress and closed her eyes.

It was automatic to reach for Nathan. She’d checked on him frequently as she made the drive to Southern California. Part of her fatigue was from maintaining such constant contact.

To her surprise, he was alert, intensely so. Rigid, crouched in his cell, rage so prevalent that it rolled through her like fire.

This time there wasn’t a hesitation. He’d grown used to sensing her as soon as she brushed against his mind. He no longer questioned her presence.

They’re working Swanson over, goddamn it.

Fury hit her like a tornado. Nathan boiled with it. Helpless fury. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and hatred clawed at Shea until she flinched from the negative wash that poured from him.

She did the only thing she felt capable of doing. She wrapped herself around him and held on, offering him whatever comfort she could.

You’ll be free soon. Believe that, Nathan. Swanson too.

Damn right. I swear to God, I’ll get him out.

She sensed strength in him that hadn’t been there before. Renewed determination. An iron will that was nearly tangible. Thank God. He was ready to fight. He was refusing to give up.

This time there was no pain for her to take. He’d blocked it out himself with the uncontrollable anger that rocked his body. His focus was on his teammate.

Part of her wanted to shield him from the sounds of his teammate’s suffering, but she knew that it was what was feeding his rage and determination. So she sat there with him, holding him as he shook with fury.

The door of his cell burst open. Nathan shot to his feet, startling Shea and sending her sprawling on the bed. Two guns were pointed at him as he was yanked forcibly to his feet.

This time they didn’t bind him. They dragged him out of the cell, down a dim hallway that must have been a pathway in the cave. A moment later he was thrust into blinding sunlight.

Shea winced and blinked as Nathan threw his arm over his ravaged eyes. Her sight was distorted because he couldn’t see. All she saw were flashes of light, the ground. The air was cold. The wind bit at Nathan’s naked body as he was shoved to his knees.

Gradually he blinked and squinted enough that he could see, and she sucked in her breath at the sight before her.

Swanson was standing a few feet away, bloodied and bruised, his eyes bleak. The left side of his face was a mess. There was a ragged cut that ran from his temple, over his jaw and lower to his neck. The flesh lay open, blood streaming. There was panic and defeat in his eyes.

“Don’t you do it, Swanny. Don’t you f**king do it,” Nathan said, echoing words from the teammate who’d been killed in front of him.

Shea gasped when the barrel of a pistol was jammed into the back of Nathan’s head. Oh God, they were going to use him to break Swanson because Nathan had been unbreakable so far.

They no longer had use for Nathan. Maybe they’d grown tired or bored or frustrated with their efforts.

Now, Nathan. You have to fight now. You have your hands. They aren’t expecting you to fight. Oh God, you have to try.

Tears poured down Shea’s cheeks. She couldn’t allow this. She’d never felt more helpless in her life.

Nathan lifted his gaze so that he stared straight back at Swanson, and Shea caught her breath at the silent exchange. It was do-or-die time for both of them.

I’m with you, Nathan. I won’t leave you.

The men holding Swanson began barking a series of questions in broken English. Swanson stood there like a stone, his expression impassive. Then he seemed to crumble.

“All right, all right, I’ll talk. Just leave him alone.”

Don’t freak, Shea. He’s acting. Get ready. I need you for this.

She sat up on the bed, her focus razor sharp.

And suddenly Nathan whipped around, ramming his fist into the knee of the man holding the gun. The pistol hit the ground, and Nathan had it before she could think to tell him it was there.