A Bit of You (11 page)

Yeah, okay. I love him. But I can’t send it in a text. I want to see his pretty blue eyes when I tell
him, want to feel his body open for me…

“Let’s go,” Shearing barked, snapping Liam out of his fantasy in the making. Liam unstrapped himself and tucked his cell back into his pocket. He hadn’t even realised he’d been gripping it so hard his knuckles now ached from it.

Liam trundled out of the helicopter, keeping close to Shearing. It was nearly six in the morning, the weather was horrendous, but Shearing was walking with a distinct spring in his step as they approached a nondescript building in the middle of nowhere. Actually, it was exactly ninety-two point four miles from Billings, and it wasn’t another damned cabin their informant had misled them to.

No, this was worse, possibly. Liam peered around Shearing’s shoulder as more agents fanned out around the building’s perimeter. A cement fence about six feet high surrounded the building, and a vicious gust of wind slapped at Liam as he spotted the small, tasteful sign on the front gate, the words legible under the bright swath of someone’s flashlight.
Grey
Mountain Care Center.
Such an innocuous name for a place where, Shearing seemed certain, James Stratton was being held against his will.

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A BIT OF YOU

Bailey Bradford

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Although, since the place was a private psychiatric facility, Stratton’s will might no longer exist, depending on what Rollins had ordered done to the man.

Shearing paused at the gate. There was no intercom, no keypad—no way to unlock the damned it. The phone had gone unanswered every time Shearing or Liam had tried to call, but, as far as they knew, Grey’s was still open, albeit not legally. It certainly didn’t show up in the system. Rollins truly had buried it well under mountains of paperwork and fake corporations.

Shearing reached in his jacket and, Liam figured, was on the verge of taking his weapon out and shooting the lock off the gate. Liam held up a hand and swiped at the rain pouring down his face with the other. “I can probably pick it.” He plucked out a small packet of picks he carried, a remnant from his misspent youth, and ignored the curiosity on Shearing’s face.

Within seconds he had the gate open. Shearing waved over two more agents then cautiously led them towards the dull grey building.

Liam twitched with the need to pull Shearing behind him. His boss usually worked at a damned desk, for Christ’s sake; he couldn’t possibly know what he was doing. Except, each step he took was precise, his movements slow, his visual sweeps of the area seemingly thorough. He had a steady hold on his weapon, and he didn’t appear the least bit intimidated or unsure.

Which made sense, now that Liam thought about it. Shearing had to have been a wunderkind of an agent to make it as far as he had with the FBI as fast as he had. Shearing couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Liam, and, even though Liam was an excellent agent, he for damn sure wasn’t anywhere near being handed a position of authority like Shearing’s.

Shearing’s hand gesture stopped Liam’s musings. He and the other agents stopped in their tracks, peering around cautiously. The sun hadn’t yet come up all the way, but the dark clouds and sheets of rain seemed to drop down randomly, as if the clouds were sporadically having some sort of short tantrum. It made it entirely too difficult to see the area well.

The only other activity outside was from the agents, who were all currently statue still in their own version of freeze tag, waiting to be freed by a quick gesture of Shearing’s hand.

And there it was, the signal to move forward. Shearing approached the door, lit only by a dim light glowing through a plain glass fixture. There was nothing on the door other than www.total-e-bound.com

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the handle. It was a solid slab of steel, painted to match the grey building. Shearing tried the knob then turned to Liam. “Can you pick this?” He tapped the knob.

“Maybe,” Liam said after a moment’s hesitation, “But I bet there’s multiple locks on the other side as well.” It made sense to him, and apparently to Shearing as well, who sent the remaining agents off to look for different ways to get in. The building lacked windows, so unless there was another door standing wide open, Liam figured the front entrance was their only way in. He could try picking a back door—surely the place had one—but Shearing seemed to want to go in the front.

“Go ahead.”

Shearing stepped aside and Liam dug his toolkit back out. He grabbed the knob and twisted it slightly. A tingle of excitement speared through him. Liam tucked the picks into his jacket pocket and twisted, hard. The knob scraped and groaned, but eventually turned.

The steel door whooshed slightly, opening inwards. Liam cocked a brow and looked at his boss. Shearing’s cheeks turned ruddy and he cursed before pushing past Liam.

“Get the others back here,” Shearing grumbled. Liam pushed his jacket aside and plucked the radio off his hip. He recalled the agents then cautiously stepped inside, expecting Shearing to be right there waiting for him. That was protocol, after all. One didn’t rush ahead without backup.

Shearing must have figured protocol could get fucked. Liam cursed softly, trying to gauge which direction his boss had taken off in, but, as dark as it was inside the place, he couldn’t hazard a guess. How had Shearing even seen to go anywhere? What was he, part possum or something? As nasty as those creatures were, their night vision was excellent.

“Over here, Stone.”

Liam turned towards Shearing’s voice, his eyes finally adjusting enough to make out his shape. The small penlight Shearing had aimed at the floor didn’t hurt any, either. Liam carefully made his way to Shearing, aware of the nearly silent agents filing into the building behind them. Liam was wishing for his night vision goggles but according to their information the damned building had electricity. Apparently it simply wasn’t being used, or there was an outage because of the weather. Meanwhile they were stuck using their damned flashlights.

Once everyone had gathered around Shearing, he quickly went over the plan to check the building again. Assured everyone was paired off and clear on orders, Shearing sent them www.total-e-bound.com

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on their way. He nudged Liam’s elbow. “Come on. I think, according to the blueprints, James was likely held upstairs. Those seemed to be the more secure rooms.”

“Shouldn’t we have had at least some of the other agents come with us then?” Liam couldn’t comprehend this new side to his boss. Shearing was determined to find James Stratton, which wasn’t unusual. Shearing had one of the best clearance records in the FBI. But he wasn’t usually so involved in a case, and certainly had never been to this depth, not that Liam knew of. Then again, Shearing had only been Director of the department for a couple of years, and Liam had only been working for him for five months. What did he really know about his boss?

“No,” Shearing said, sounding irritated as he bit out the word. “I could be wrong.” It wasn’t much of an explanation, but it was the only one given before Shearing turned and headed for the staircase. Liam followed, trying to watch for movement, but the place felt empty. He wouldn’t just go by a feeling; but so far, there’d not been the slightest sign of occupancy. And why would there be? Probably whoever had been working for Rollins had hauled ass as soon as the man was announced dead on the evening news. Which didn’t bode well for James Stratton, if he was here.

Shearing took the stairs quieter than Liam thought he would. He seemed coiled, tensed, ready to strike and uncaring of whether or not they ran into someone working for Rollins. He didn’t appear to think there was anyone here either, except possibly Stratton. Liam cleared the steps right behind his boss, then they were moving again, Shearing stopping only when they came to a closed door. Liam elbowed around him and gripped the doorknob. “Locked.”

There were also two locks on the outside, both of which took keys to unlock. Or a person with decent picking skills.

“Bring the light up here,” Liam muttered, pressing his ear to the door. He couldn’t hear anything, no breathing or snoring, no panicked skittering of feet. Shearing shone the thin stream of light on the lower lock, and Liam dug out a small torque wrench. The lock wasn’t complicated, and he had it and the second one opened soon enough. There was just the actual doorknob left, which wouldn’t take any effort at all.

“I don’t remember reading about this particular skill of yours,” Shearing whispered.

Liam cut him a glance and gave a little shrug.

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A BIT OF YOU

Bailey Bradford

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“Should be in my file somewhere. We all had to go through training for it.” Of course, his skills were far superior to most of the other agents, he’d wager. He’d not always been a good boy growing up.

Liam gave a mental shrug. Whatever, it wasn’t as if he’d get in any trouble for being good at picking locks.

The lock was a little more difficult than he’d expected, although he didn’t think Shearing had noticed. Shearing was glaring at the door, as if he could see through it. The lock clicked and Liam twisted the knob, pulling his tools out as well. “Ready.” He crammed everything back in his pocket, not taking the time to put his precious picks in their usual safe spot. Shearing was already moving, shoving the door open and rushing in with less caution than enthusiasm.

Liam was right behind him, trying to ensure his and Shearing’s safety. Shearing had been acting out of character, just little things, but even those could get them both killed. Liam would prefer that not to happen, so he kept his head about him even when the stench of human waste slammed up his nostrils.

“God damn it!” Shearing was moving, cursing, nearly running, the flashlight’s beam bouncing with each step. It made Liam feel dizzy, but not nearly as much as seeing the slight form huddled on a filthy bed in the corner of the room did.

Liam had the sense to grab the radio, let the others know they might have found their target. Liam struggled to make out the man’s hair colour, but he was so dirty, covered in God only knew what. As Liam drew near, he saw Stratton—it had to be, didn’t it?—and he wasn’t just lying on his side; his hands and wrists were bound, and thin links of chain were attached from the manacles to the bed frame.

As he looked at the shrunken form lying in the filthy bed, Liam’s heart plummeted, his hope for James Stratton to be found alive shriveling as a dull ache started in his chest. He didn’t see how it was possible, and the smell…

And yet… Liam blinked; Shearing went still as a stone. A soft groan, so strained and barely even a sound, but they both heard it. Then the man on the bed moved slightly and looked at them before letting out an eardrum shattering scream.

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Later, once he’d had a chance to quell the adrenaline surging through his veins, Liam would realise that Stratton’s well-timed scream wasn’t the warning it’d turned out to be, simply the sound of a man waking, terrified to discover two lurking figures nearby. He and Shearing had both startled and stumbled back. Shearing’s pained grunt had Liam spinning around, a move that likely saved his life as the light from Shearing’s penlight glanced off a mottled blade.

Liam blocked the attempt on his life, his forearm slamming against the would-be murderer’s wrist. Then it was a flurry of moves, him dodging his attacker’s slashing blade as Shearing wavered and fell to his knees. Liam fought with a desperation he’d never felt before, but the battle was brief. The other agents had already been called to the room, and, even though it seemed like hours, it was only moments before someone was shouting at his assailant, ordering him to drop his weapon.

The man didn’t listen, only snarled and attacked with a fresh level of determination. A single shot put a stop to it all, the attacker’s eyes widening with shock, his body jerking at the bullet’s impact. Liam darted aside, wary of the knife still in the other’s outstretched hand.

Moisture spread over the middle of the man’s back, glistening in the beam of one of the agent’s flashlights.

“Shearing!” Liam dropped to his knees and caught his boss before he could topple forward. Liam didn’t spare the dead man a glance as he shouted at the other agents, ordering a call for help. Then he remembered the helicopter, and, as he felt the warm blood seeping from Shearing’s chest drenching his hand, Liam calmed, knowing full well that panicking wouldn’t help Shearing or Stratton.

“Get him to the helicopter, and keep pressure on his wound.” Liam glanced around the room, for all the good it did him. It seemed every agent had their flashlight aimed at him and Shearing. Where was James Stratton? “Bonner!”

The blond agent darted forward, dropping down at his side. “Someone hand Agent Bonner a cloth, an undershirt,
something!
” Bonner felt Shearing’s pulse and frowned. She snapped at the others and was quickly handed a white undershirt. Liam lifted his hands www.total-e-bound.com

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from the wound and let Bonner place the shirt over it before pressing down again. Bonner tapped his hand, drawing his gaze to hers. “I’ve got this. Let us get him to the helicopter.

Stratton—” A strangled scream rent the air, and Bonner flinched as she craned her head to peer over her shoulder.

Liam looked up, too, spotting James Stratton’s huddled form on the bed. Stratton scooted as far from the flashlight beam and the approaching agent as his chains would allow him. “Get back, Nyland,” Liam ordered, already giving his position over to Bonner.

Nyland backed away, lowering the flashlight beam slightly, taking James Stratton out of the direct spotlight. Liam stood and got the other agents moving, his attention split between Shearing as he was lifted and carried from the room, and Stratton, still huddled, occasionally whimpering softly.