Rush (Phoenix Rising) (16 page)

“Teague, take it easy.” A woman appeared beside him. Mixed race, part Asian with long black hair, light eyes, very pregnant. Unless that was fake, too.

More people rushed through the door. He didn’t know anyone. Didn’t know where he was. Didn’t know what the hell was going on. His body hardened. His mind sharpened. Fear pumped in his veins, preparing him for action.

Finally, a weapon appeared—pointed at his head. Yeah, now he knew where he stood. Only it was held by another woman. That was new.

Q’s gaze locked on the barrel of the Heckler & Koch Mark 23, his mind struggling to find the source of that terrorist trivia—until he realized he’d recognized the type of weapon pointed at him. Then he chalked it all up to a crazy-ass medicated hallucination.

But the woman holding the weapon ruined that idea when she spoke. “Let her go, Quaid.”

This was shaping up to be a perfect training scenario.
Training for what?
another part of his brain asked, which was when he considered this might not even be a hallucination. Maybe Gorin had finally spilt one too many brain cells and Q had gone schizophrenic.

“Should have known.” One of the men spoke and Q’s gaze darted toward him. He was leaning against a wall with one shoulder, arms crossed. Q narrowed his eyes, then cut a glance toward the Asian woman. They were family. Definitely. “This kind of shit is par for the course with you people.”

“Mitch,” the woman snapped with more force than her appearance suggested she commanded.

This Mitch put both hands on his hips. “Out of all the people here, Quaid, she is the last one you want to hurt.”

Q sidestepped the other men to better see the woman holding the weapon. Something about her . . . Black hair, blue eyes, pretty. Something seemed familiar. He repositioned his grip on Jessica.

“Don’t you dare.” The brown-haired man next to the woman with the weapon obviously recognized the dangerous hold Q had on Jessica’s neck. He put a hand up and stepped forward with fear and fury in his eyes. “If you hurt her, you’re going to wish you were back in that fucking hell hole, Quaid.”

“Stop calling me Quaid.” His chest felt like a time bomb.

“Kai,” Jessica rasped from beneath Q’s arm. “Shut up.”

A crawling sensation started low in his belly. One he definitely didn’t understand. He only knew he had to escape. Get away from these people. This situation. “Get out of my way.”

“Q.” Another man pushed through the crowd. Where were they all coming from? “What are you doing, man?”

Cash’s voice. Finally, something that resonated with Q. He froze and focused on his friend. Black hair, blue eyes . . . Q’s gaze flicked back to the woman holding the gun—his sister, Keira. Cash had shown him a picture of her while they’d been in prison together. He’d slipped it through the vent between their cells just days before the explosion.

Q didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. “Cash, what’s this? What’s happening?”

“Cash,” Keira said from behind her brother, her voice raised and worried. “Make him drop that damned neck-breaking hold on her. Damn it, Quaid, don’t make me shoot you, you asshole.”

“Listen to her, dude.” This came from the blond next to Keira. “She won’t kill you, but she’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“Keira,” Cash said, “put the gun down, you’re making this worse.”

“Not until he releases that hold on Jess.”

Cash glanced back at Q. Evaluated his grip. “Where the hell did you learn that? Come on, Q, you’re not going to hurt her. You’re scaring everyone. Just take her out of that hold.”

Q didn’t move. Didn’t like his odds or his options.

“Quaid,” Keira said. “I love you, and I’m thrilled you’re alive, but if you don’t release Jessica’s head, I’m going to
take off your fucking ear
.”

The blond next to Keira lifted his brows and said, “Listen to her, Quaid. She’s a sniper in her day job.”

“This might go better if you called him Q,” Cash said.

But Q was still stuck on the
I love you
and the
I’m thrilled you’re alive
statement.

“Qua—Q.” Jessica faltered on his name. The fact that she’d deliberately called him Q, even though they all clearly thought of him as Quaid, softened something inside him. “Please.”

That damn voice did it. He took his hand off her head and wrapped it around her waist, then loosened the arm at her throat.

Keira lowered her weapon, turned toward the blond—Luke, they’d called him—and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. “Asshole is so going to pay for that as soon as he remembers enough to make it worth my effort.”

Luke put his arm around Keira and turned her toward the door. “You can beat up on me until that happens.”

Q backed away from the group, pulling Jessica up against him. The perfect curve of her lower spine cradled his erection, which was incredibly distracting. As distracting as her scent. Her hair smelled like flowers and sunshine, though how he knew that was a mystery. He’d never seen real flowers, let alone smelled them. A spicy scent rose with the heat of her body and another layer of something earthy, musky and deliciously seductive lurked beneath.

Cash turned to the others. “Can we have a few minutes?”

The quiet dark-haired woman, whose name still hadn’t been mentioned, took the guy named Teague’s arm. Teague glanced at the one they called Kai, who was still glaring at Q.

“Come on, Kai,” Teague said on his way out the door.

Kai was the last man out. He paused in the doorframe, turned halfway back and set fierce green eyes on Q. “I’ll still kick your ass to Iceland, Quaid. I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t remember.”

Once they were gone, Q muttered, “What the hell did I do to him?”

A second of heavy silence broke with Jessica’s raspy, “You died.”

He hadn’t realized he was still holding her. She was small and warm and fit him so perfectly, like she belonged right here. She swallowed, her delicate neck rolling against his forearm, making him realize his arm was still across her neck.

“On his watch,” she finished.

He abruptly let her go and backed across the room, scanning his peripheral vision for escape, for weapons, for . . . something that said
safety
.

“Q, relax,” Cash said. “Let’s sit down and talk. We’ll straighten everything out.”

Q’s gaze came around and he found Cash. Then Jessica. She stood at the door, one hand on her throat, one wrapped around the end of a necklace, tears wetting her face. She wore shorts and a fitted top with thin straps over her shoulders. Her arms and legs bare. Her sweet little feet bare. And that hair, that glorious hair he’d dreamt of touching for years falling everywhere.

His gut squeezed with guilt and confusion. He still wanted to touch her. To kiss her. To hold her. Yet he didn’t trust her. Different parts of his brain warred and pressure built in his head.

He lifted a hand toward her, but spoke to Cash. “How’d she get here, man? Out of my dreams?” He lowered his voice. “I think she’s Gorin’s. You know how he gets me addicted to things and then takes them away to mess with me.”

“No,” Cash said, his tone firm. “Stop right there, Q.” Then he turned to Jessica. “Let me straighten him out, Jess.”

She pressed her lips together and lowered the hand at her throat, but continued stroking whatever lay on the end of the chain around her neck. Dropping her gaze to the floor, she turned for the door. But before she closed it behind her, she glanced back and met Q’s eyes.

“No one can take me away from you.” Her voice was soft but serious. “I make that decision, and I made you a promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

The door clicked closed behind her.

T
he only thing Q knew about promises was that there were no such things.

He moved to the window of the small room, stood to the side and peered out around the flat concrete edge. His heart thudded beneath his breastbone. His mind and body pulled toward Jessica even though instincts pushed him to escape.

“Where are we? How far to the nearest road? Is there a car close we can hot-wire? I have no idea how I know, but I could rig almost any kind—”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about getting us the hell out of here.”

Q scanned the terrain. In the distance, two men in fatigues carrying Colt M4A1’s passed. They spoke for a moment and then moved on. For a reason he couldn’t begin to comprehend, the sight settled him. Men with high-grade weapons, he understood. That, he could deal with. But women who battled with the insanity of emotion? It was no wonder his mind told him to kill female terrorists first.

“How many guards do they have?” he asked. “And who the hell armed these guys? They’ve got better weapons than the Castle guards. Doesn’t matter. We can take them out. We just need a plan.”

“Q.”

“What?” A wash of exhaustion weakened his muscles and he used the wall to hold himself up. The drug’s aftereffect was right on schedule. “Stop jabbering and start using that genius brain of yours, Sci-fi. I’m fading. If we’re going to get out of here, we’ve got to break now—”

A hand gripped his arm and spun him around. Q looked into Cash’s still unfamiliar face. Even features, strong jaw, straight nose. His blue eyes were striking against his black hair and lashes.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Cash spoke deliberately, his eyes sparking with frustration. “Slow
your
genius brain the hell down so I can talk to you.”

“No time. Can’t you see this is another trap? Gorin must have planted Jessica in my subconscious, pushed her into my dreams, so when they needed leverage, they could send her in person to manipulate me. If I let her in, I’ll walk right back into their hands. We both will.”

Q flipped the lock on the window and hauled it open. Hands on the sill, he ducked and leaned out, scanning the field and the trees beyond with the intent of listening and staring into the distance. But the sweet taste of the air hit him. Crisp and alive, it filled his senses like the first bite of that rare, real apple Gorin gave him once a month. But only if he’d been cooperative.

Q sucked in a big beautiful lungful of the stuff, wondering if they grew apples here. Imagined sitting at the base of a tree, eating apples right off the branch.

Cash gripped the waistband of his jeans and hauled him back. Q smacked his skull on the window frame. Pain cracked through his head.

“Shit.” He ducked into the house, rubbed the back of his head and turned, glaring at Cash. “What the hell, man?”

Jaw tight, Cash pointed to the bed. “Sit.”

Fine. Q couldn’t hold it together anymore anyway. That smack on the head brought all his exhaustion and pain into acute focus and his whole body sagged. His bad limbs, which had pulled their weight in the heat of things, were now weak and aching.

Q slumped to a seat on the bed. He wanted to close his eyes and fall into this fatigue, but knew he couldn’t. Cash took the only chair, sitting on the edge. Elbows planted on his knees, his friend looked at him with a gravity he’d often imagined during their conversations at the Castle.

“Relax,” Cash said. “Just long enough to listen for a few minutes. You won’t get anywhere by passing out.”

Q fought to sit still, even though instinct urged him to act. “You’re not what I expected. Not like I had pictured in my mind.”

Some of the distress left Cash’s face and one side of his mouth lifted. “You either.”

“I thought you’d be . . . I don’t know, smaller for some reason. Less bulk.”

Cash narrowed his eyes, but the stare completely lacked menace. “You calling me fat?”

Q huffed a laugh. Let the smile come. Let the tension ebb. “Hardly.”

“And you.” Cash lowered a brow, and scanned Q’s chest. “What’s up with all the muscle? That didn’t come from my workout plan. And there’s no difference between your right and left sides, like there should be from the injury you described.”

Q glanced down at himself, but didn’t see anything unusual.

“Listen, I know you’re freaked. I know this is all foreign to you.” Cash adjusted his seat, pressed his hands together and aligned his palms and fingers. “But you’re among friends here, Q. There is no reason to run. Nothing to escape.”

Q glanced at the closed door, remembering the anger, the bottled emotions and shook his head.

“Q, look at me.”

He did.

“Do you trust me?”

Q’s stomach tensed. He stared hard at Cash. Opened his mouth, but couldn’t answer. His intellect told him, yes, he trusted Cash above all others. His instincts told him, no, he trusted no one.

“You know no one understands what you’re going through more than I do,” Cash said.

Q nodded.

“You need to get your head straight on a few basic things before you go out there.”

Q stiffened.

Cash put up his hand. “You
are
going out there, Q. That’s the first thing you may as well just accept right now. These people risked their lives to get you out of that safe house.
I
risked my life to get you out of there. You will damn well not throw that back in our faces by running away.”

“That’s not . . .” He slid toward the end of the bed and leaned against the footboard for support. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just . . . don’t belong here.”

“Q, after what you’ve been through, you wouldn’t feel as if you belonged anywhere. And this is
exactly
where you belong,” he said, voice low but imploring. “There is nowhere on earth you belong more than
right here,
with
these people
. This is what you’ve always wanted. You have it all right here, within reach. A family. A place to belong. People who
love you
.”

“Love me? They’re all pissed off at me. Your sister was going to
shoot
me. I may not understand much about real life, Cash, but I know that’s not love.”

“You put her in an impossible position. You forced her to choose between two of her best friends. They all love Jessica, too, Q. And there’s also something called tough love. When loving someone means giving them hard limits, making them live up to certain standards, forcing them to be the best that can be, even if that means being hard on them. Kind of like me telling you to stop acting like an asshole. And if you don’t pull your head out pretty quick, I’ll be using that tough love a lot more.”

Best friends.
The sentiment tugged deep in his chest, yet nothing moved in his memory.

“Besides,” Cash said, voice downgrading from anger to annoyance, “she wouldn’t have killed you. She would have just maimed you—enough to get you to let go of Jessica. She’s an FBI sniper.”

“
FBI?
Does she realize the people who sign her paychecks are in the same family tree as the people who had me locked up?”

“As a matter of fact she does. And yet she’s here.” Cash spread his hands wide. “What does that tell you?”

“That she didn’t get your IQ.”

Cash laughed, a tired sound, reminding Q of his friend’s long hours in the lab. “I wouldn’t suggest saying that to her, unless you’re willing to give up that ear.”

Q stood and paced across the room, trying to find some safe place to ground himself before he started with all the questions waiting to explode in his brain. But he just kept seeing all their faces, yet not getting one flicker of recognition. They were all completely blank canvases. Absolute strangers. All except Jessica.

“I don’t understand
anything
.” His gut felt heavy, as if he’d swallowed a truckload of cement. “I don’t remember them, Cash. I don’t know any of them except Jessica. And how do you explain her?”

“You know I can’t answer that any more than you can. All I can tell you is that these people are the kind of friends who become family over time. Each person in the other room has made a conscious sacrifice to be here—
for you
. They dropped everything in their lives when they found that coin in your cell. They spent every waking moment searching for you. Pulled in favors. Set up a rescue operation. Executed it. Saved your sorry ass. Brought you here, where you’re safe . . . where Gorin can’t get you. And what are you doing?” Cash’s voice turned sour and disappointed. “Trying to escape.”

The disapproval stung. Then something else registered, and Q swung toward Cash. “What did you say? About my coin?”

“I didn’t get out of the Castle on my own, like you and I had worked out,” Cash said. “Keira and her friends had a plan to rescue us and surprised me halfway. They went to your cell, but the guards already had you in the sally port for transport. That’s when they found your coin. And they knew there was a real possibility that you were alive. Their dedication to finding you from that moment on never wavered. They were two hundred percent on board to get you back.”

“They risked their lives
twice
for the
possibility
. . . ?” Q trailed off as a staggering realization hit him. One even deeper than the astounding insight he’d just made. “For the possibility they’d found
Quaid
.”

Q’s stomach dropped. His mind spiraled. He thought of the planning and coordination and resources this type of operation must have required. He remembered the love in Jessica’s eyes, the emotion in her kiss.
I made you a promise.

At the window, Q braced himself on the concrete sill. All the fight drained out of him. Who must this Quaid have been to win that kind of loyalty, that depth of feeling?

Someone Q was not. Someone Q could never be.

The weight of that realization made him heavier than his muscles could bear. He turned his back to the wall and slid down until his butt hit the floor. Then he laid his forehead against his knees. “My God.”

“Look, this is going to take time. We’re safe. We have everything we need: food, clothes, computers, weapons. We can stay here for a while. Figure out our next move.”

Q wasn’t listening, his mind still searching, questioning. He lifted his head and met Cash’s eyes. “Who are they to me?”

Cash hesitated. “The doctors think it’s best for you to remember things on your own—”

“Fuck the doctors. Psycho doctors are the reason I’m so screwed up.”

“Q, don’t yell. There’s enough tension here already. And watch what you say about doctors. Alyssa is a doctor. A very good one who cares about you.”

“Which one is Alyssa?”

“Teague’s wife. Long dark hair, pregnant.”

“The quiet one.”

Cash’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “She’s not all that quiet. She’s plenty good at getting her point across when she needs to.”

Q scraped his fingers over his scalp, feeling his scars. “Who are they to me, Cash?”

“Some are members of a firefighting team you were on. Alyssa and Mitch are Teague’s family.”

The words fell into a black void and faded until they disappeared. Nothing pinged to life—no memories. No sensation.

“I was a . . . firefighter?”

“Yes, on a hazmat team—a special hazardous materials team.”

Q waited. Searched his mind, his body. Shook his head. “I get nothing from that.”

Cash nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“What about names?” Maybe that would spark something. “What are their names?”

Cash took a breath and watched Q as he said, “There’s Teague Creek.”

Q shook his head and made a keep-going motion with his hands.

“Kai Ryder was the chief of the team.” He paused. “Luke Ransom.” Now he paused between each name. “Keira O’Shay. Seth Masters.”

“Was he in the room? I didn’t hear that name.”

“He’s not here. He’s tracking down leads related to those microchips they use for tracking . . . and other things.” When Q just shrugged, Cash said, “And just one more, Jessica Fury.”

His entire body tingled, twisted, throbbed. Hell, yeah. That name did all kinds of shit to him. “Jessica Fury. Fury. Fury.” He repeated the name, closed his eyes, reached and searched. And came up empty. He pounded his palms against his eyes. “
Shit.
I remember
nothing
. I swear to God”—he lifted his head and met Cash’s eyes—“Gorin better hope I never find him.”

“Let’s hope Gorin never finds you.” Cash sat back, and then stood. “And let’s get you something to eat or you’re going to start losing all that muscle. Do a meet and greet while we’re at it, because, hell, we’re so good in social settings. And you may as well get used to them calling you Quaid, because that’s your name, buddy—Quaid Legend.”

 

Gil patted his mouth with the three-hundred-count white linen napkin and refolded it on his lap, still laughing appropriately at Senator Perino’s fishing tale.

“I kid you not,” Perino said, his balding head red from laughing at his own story. “I smelled like fish for a week.”

Gil’s phone vibrated just as his fork plunged into another bite of quite possibly the best macadamia nut encrusted salmon he’d ever eaten. He kept his smile in place, but ground his teeth and pretended to listen to Perino and two other senators from the Armed Forces Committee debate the pros and cons of various fly-fishing reels.

Since Gil didn’t fish—what a damn waste of time—he glanced at his phone and read the name he’d expected to find—Abernathy. Gil tapped the IGNORE button on Major Abernathy’s third call of the day.

He glanced up with the thought to call Owen after lunch to see what strides he’d made in tracking down Legend and O’Shay, and realized the men at the table had gone silent. The hair on Gil’s neck rose. He cast a quick glance at each of their faces, then followed their gazes to the man standing beside their table.