Hard Core (Onyx Group) (12 page)

“Hurry up, Doc,” he said through gritted teeth and focused
on the wall.

She jumped, looked down, and quickly bandaged his leg. When
she finished, she pushed her chair back and busied herself cleaning up.

Slade left the room to go put on clean, dry clothes and pack
his bags, cursing himself for giving her something to do. He would have been
better off bleeding.

With his bags and her patient, he guided Alana off the boat.
They didn’t speak. Right now he had to get them safely to the inn and wait for
the team to arrive. He’d figure out the rest from there.

Their small room had only one bed, and a kitchenette. Alana’s
patient woke and started to panic as soon as Slade put him down on the bed.
Slade had to hold him down while she gave him another sleeping pill.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Slade demanded, rising
from the bed to glare at the man now sleeping peacefully.

“He’s terrified,” she answered. “He has every right to be.
We both tried to kill him.”

Slade looked at her, but she stared at her patient. He’d
wanted to break the man’s neck when he attacked Alana on the beach. He didn’t
remember her trying to kill him.

“What do you mean?”

She turned a flat gaze to him. “I don’t want to talk about
it.”

Slade didn’t push. She was still in shock, her face deathly
white. The bruises marring her skin stood out like neon signs. She looked like
hell. He couldn’t believe this woman had tried to execute her patient. She
wasn’t a killer. He would know.

“Eventually, we’ll talk,” he said. “Why don’t you take a
shower while we wait for my team to get here?”

“What team?”

“I called in some backup. They should be here in a few hours.”

“More mercenaries,” she murmured. “I don’t have any clean
clothes. But that’s okay, I don’t need a shower. I’ll just sit and wait.”

She moved to one of the chairs and flipped on the
television, staring blankly at it.

He wished she’d open the floodgates before the team arrived.
But pushing her didn’t seem like a good idea, so he let it go. He didn’t like
this rocky ground he tread on. The only thing he knew to do was wait her out.

A knock sounded on the door. Alana sat in front of the television,
her patient asleep. Slade opened the door for the three rugged men who filed
into the room.

He closed it behind them, glancing at Alana, who looked away
from the screen to stare at them. Quickly, he made introductions and Alana
greeted them before turning her attention back to the television.

“Is she okay?” Ryden asked quietly, leaning his shoulders
against the wall.

“No.”

“What exactly have you gotten yourself into, Slade?” Sarver
sat down at the table. “Who’s the guy in the bed?”

“Hell if I know,” Slade answered. He cast another glance at
Alana, who looked ready to break. Not the woman who’d force-fed him antibiotics
and managed to stick him with a needle. “She won’t talk to me.”

“How about you tell us what you do know.” Ryden took a seat
across from Sarver. Mercer remained standing in front of the door, silent and
watchful.

He turned his back and spoke quietly so Alana wouldn’t
overhear. He told them about his capture, escape, and how he ended up in her
camp.

“She’s a doctor?” Sarver asked with a glance at Alana, who
paid no attention to them. “And she managed to stick you with a needle?”

To look at her now, he’d never guess there was a strong,
stubborn woman beneath the stoic mask. Slade could understand their disbelief.
Normally he would have left those kinds of details out, but he needed to defend
Alana’s character until they found out for themselves the woman she really was.
Why it mattered, he didn’t know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to analyze
it.

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Slade murmured, tearing his
gaze off her. “Long story short, Ross kidnapped her for reasons unknown and
slaughtered her father and the tribe they lived with. I missed a shot at Ross
when I rescued her and her patient and brought them here. Ross’s men will be here
anytime, if they aren’t already. They’ll recognize my boat.”

“So we’re on protective detail.” Ryden nodded. “Not our
usual forte.”

“We need answers.” Sarver nudged a chin toward Alana. “We
need to know why she’s so valuable to Ross.”

Alana got up from her chair and walked over to stare at the
four men. It took mettle on her part because the men who stared back at her
were not ordinary men, they were hardened mercenaries.

“You want to know why Gavin Ross will come after me?” she
asked them. “Because I have something he needs.”

“Alana--” Slade began, but she cut him off with a raised
hand. Trembling and pale, she looked ready to fall apart. He wanted to tell her
this could wait. To protect her from having to tell what happened in Ross’s
basement, but she waved him off.

“See that man lying over there?” she continued.

None of the men answered, simply waited for her to go on.

“A few short hours ago I stood over him with a scalpel,
prepared to cut him open without anesthesia so I could remove his kidneys,
liver, and pancreas. He was strapped naked to a gurney in a cold room, fully
aware of what I was about to do to him.” She broke off, her breath hitched.

Slade remained in place, watching her as she flashed back to
that room.

“Gavin Ross kidnapped me from my family so I could harvest
organs for him. He made me choose between my father and that man.” She pointed
to the man asleep in the bed. “I chose to save my family and murder him. There
you have it. I know about Gavin’s criminal activities and so does he. We both
know how he makes his living and he will stop at nothing to get me back. Not
only for what I know, but for what I can do for him. Does that answer your
question?”

Her gaze landed directly on Rick Sarver, letting them know
she’d overheard every word. Sarver cursed and looked at Slade.

“How about the rest of you? Any more questions?” Alana’s
voice vibrated with tension. “Any of you want to know how my hand shook when I
was about to cut into that innocent man?” She held up her slender hands,
visibly shaking. “These were once my ticket to paradise. People wrote articles
about these hands when I was still a med student at Harvard. These hands were
gifted to save lives. Not to…take…a…”

When she broke off, Slade saw her walls begin to crumble.
She looked directly at him, but there were no tears in her eyes. She held it
together, refusing to give in.

“I’m not like you,” she said angrily, directly to him. “I’m
not a killer. I don’t take lives for money. I save people, dammit! I use these
hands to save lives.”

The three men glanced uncertainly at Slade. Alana blazed
with fury aimed at him. He understood now what Ross had made her do, why he’d
wanted her, and it made him want to harvest the bastard’s organs without
anesthesia just to see him suffer. Ross had stripped Alana of her pride and
made her go against her moral code.

The pin in the grenade had been pulled.

She stalked over so she could glare up at him with venom.
“I’m not like you,” she spat. “I have a heart. I
care
about people.”

When he didn’t respond, she slapped her hands on his chest.

“Why you?” she cried. “Why did it have to be you?” Tears
gathered in her eyes. “Why did you have to be the last person my father saw?”

The torment in her voice cut straight through Slade’s walls.
He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t offer comfort. He was no good with comfort and
matters of the heart. Her suffering was punishment enough.

The tears she’d been holding back fell silently down her
cheeks and tore him to shreds.

“I hate you for being there when he died,” she said, still angry.
“It should have been me. Dammit, it shouldn’t have been you.”

With a frustrated cry, she started pounding his chest with
her fists. Slade stood rigid, allowing her to punish him. “Tell me how he
died,” she demanded and when he remained silent hit him again. “Tell me,
dammit!”

Her tirade continued and Slade took it.

“Tell me what Gavin did to my father, Cristian!” she
shouted. “You owe me that.” Suddenly she collapsed against his chest, her
shoulders wracked with tears. “Tell me what he did to my father,” she sobbed.
“Tell me he didn’t suffer. Tell me you were kind to him. Oh, God, I should have
been there. Why wasn’t I there when he needed me most?”

The fight went out of her and she wilted, curling into him
like a frightened child.

“Dammit, Doc,” Slade muttered hoarsely and swung her into
his arms. Oblivious to the men watching in stunned silence, he carried her to
the sofa against the far wall. Too exhausted to fight, she wrapped herself
around him, her face buried in his shoulder. Her tears fell wet against his
neck and his heart jolted in his chest.

Gently, he deposited her on the small, worn sofa and watched
her curl into a ball, her face deathly white. He wanted to make it all better.
Take her pain away. Give her father back to her.

None of which he could do. He could kill the man that had
done this to her. That, he could give her.

Her eyes closed, tears drying on her cheeks, making her look
frail. So much misery. So much pain.

“I never got to say goodbye,” she whispered brokenly.
“They’re all gone.”

Slade reached out a hand, but pulled it back. He could offer
her no comfort except one.

“He’ll pay for this, Alana,” he said quietly. “That I
promise you.”

Someone handed him a blanket over his shoulder. Slade looked
up to see Ryden standing there. He accepted the offering and placed it over
Alana. Her breathing slowed, her body tense even in sleep.

He rose to his feet. Gavin Ross had made one fatal mistake.

He’d made this personal.

* * * *

“What the hell was that?” Sarver stared at the sofa where
Alana lay, eyes closed.

Slade rubbed a hand over his chest and wished he was alone.
The ache wasn’t physical. Alana couldn’t hurt him with her fists. But her words
had cut straight through. He’d known Alana was close to detonation, but that
hadn’t prepared him for her meltdown. He almost regretted calling in a team in
now. Alana had enough to deal with. More mercenaries were not helpful.

For some unknown reason, Slade felt as if the three men had
intruded on the moment. They shouldn’t have seen Alana break down. It was a
personal, private matter. Not to be broadcasted amongst strangers. He knew they
would allow Alana her privacy and never bring it up, but he didn’t like that
they knew. Not one damn bit.

“I’ve never seen…” Ryden began but didn’t finish. “What the
hell happened on that island?”

“Nothing that should have,” Slade murmured. “Intel didn’t
show anyone else on the island.”

“Intel isn’t always one-hundred percent. Do you think anyone
survived?”

Slade shook his head. “No.”

“Then we don’t need a rescue. We protect them until we take
Ross out.”

Slade looked at Ryden and nodded. Ryden had always been the
easiest-going of all of six of them. Mercer, he never said much, and didn’t go
out of his way to get along with others. Slade identified with the man’s aloofness.
Ryden, a cowboy, with a slight drawl and a swagger to match his boots and cocky
smile, had a hardness to him they all identified with. Each of them had their
secrets. Came with the job. Gallagher was the only one who didn’t seem to have
any. Which made them wonder why he chose this type of business.

“This is an unholy mess.” Sarver rose from his chair to pace
to the window. “We aren’t bodyguards.”

Slade understood their frustration. They weren’t in the
business of security.

“We’re in the business of making the world a safer place,”
Ryden said pointedly. “Ross is part of that business. Now, so are Alana and her
patient. If we can’t protect her by taking Ross out, who can?”

Sarver turned away from the window and crossed his arms over
his broad chest, dark eyes somber, but he didn’t disagree. Mercer, who remained
watchful and silent, crossed his ankles and maintained his perch against the
wall.

“Ross slaughtered her family. What do you think he’ll do to
her?” Ryden continued in a low tone in case Alana was playing possum. “How do
you want to handle this?” He addressed the question to Slade.

Drained and weakened, he knew he’d lost a lot of blood and
needed a few hours’ sleep. Slade sat down at the table opposite Ryden. “I can’t
protect her and go after Ross at the same time,” he admitted. It had proved an
impossible task so far.

“We can put her in a safe house.”

He’d already thought of that. He trusted only one to be
impenetrable. “I want her in my penthouse in Chicago.”

“You have a penthouse?” Sarver asked.

At that moment Slade realized how undisclosed he really was.
If he couldn’t trust his teammates, who could he trust? He’d been working with
these men for four years. They dropped everything to come to his aid.

“You think she’ll be safer there than one of our safe
houses?” Ryden questioned.

“Yes.”

“You’re okay with us invading your space?”

No, he wasn’t okay with it. He didn’t want anyone in his
space. He didn’t share. He liked being alone. But, Alana would be the safest
there.

Slade nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t see
any other choice.”

“What about him?” Sarver nudged his chin toward the man
lying in bed.

His eyelids were getting heavy. “He knows about Ross, that
makes him a target also.”

“There seems to be some angst between him and Alana. Maybe
we should send him to a different location.”

Remembering how the patient reacted to Alana every time he
woke up, Slade agreed. “Until Ross is out of the picture.”

“Fortier is climbing the walls with his recovery,” Ryden
said. “This would get him off Gallagher’s back. Fool thinks he can go back into
active duty after his car exploded with him in it.”

“No leads on who did it yet?” Onyx Group took measures to
remain anonymous, but that was never a sure thing. Not in this line of work.

“Nothing. Who the hell knows? I say send the guy to the
bayou and give Fortier something to do besides bitch,” Sarver answered,
sounding spooked and irritable.

“Make the call.”

Sarver pulled out his cell and left the room to talk in
private.

“Fortier will need backup. He’s not one-hundred percent
yet,” Ryden said. “I can have Gallagher send Bodley. He knows how to get around
Fortier’s moods.”

Carter Bodley, the Brit with the uncanny ability to appear
and reappear without warning. “Not going to be necessary.” Slade had no intention
of letting Gavin Ross make it to the States.

“Gallagher will demand it.”

And he would. So Slade shrugged and let Ryden make the call
to Gallagher. While he did that, Slade took a minute of down time. His body
demanded sleep. Maybe he’d catch a power nap once Alana was safely on her way
to the States. Until then, he was in battle mode.

Mercer, who hadn’t moved, spoke softly. “She won’t go.”

Slade glanced at him. “To Chicago? She has to.”

Mercer, with his unusual gold colored eyes, shook his head.
“She won’t go without a fight.”

The last thing Slade wanted to hear. Mercer, who never had
anything to say, always seemed to make his words count when he did speak. And
damn the man’s ability to read people.

“Why the hell not?” he ground out.

Mercer pushed off the wall. “Her heart is here. She won’t
leave.”

Slade pushed out of his chair. “Don’t give me that Zen
bullshit, Mercer. I’m not in the mood.”

Mercer held up his hands and backed away. Slade paced to the
door, then to the sink. His leg throbbed, his side ached. He didn’t need
Mercer’s insight. Not right now. Right now he needed Alana safely out of the
way so he could do his job. Complications, he didn’t need. He had enough of
them already.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Ryden disconnected his
call.