Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Beeping.
Rattling through her skull. Dragging her out of the dark, as she opened her eyes, stared up at the beige ceiling. The fluorescent lights had been dialed down, but the harshness still stung her eyes until she blinked a few times, allowing everything to adjust.
Tierney wet her lips, running through a mental check — shoulder bandaged, ribs biting. Heart tapping out that annoying rhythm. She’d been in the same hospital bed for two days, and if she didn’t get out soon, she might just go rogue.
“Someone looks ready to wage war.”
She turned, staring up at Buck as he shifted on the chair and took her good hand in his.
God he was handsome, his brown hair in a tousled mess, his blue eyes shining like a neon sign in a country bar — the perfect amount of scruff eliminating any “pretty” vibes.
Turning them all into that rugged, sexy fierceness she’d grown to love.
Her heart skipped.
He’d told her he loved her. Twice before they’d even finished the mission. Then, every time she’d opened her eyes since. And she’d answered in kind because, despite the voices, the ghosts, she couldn’t imagine ever finding anyone who understood her the way Buck did. Who loved her, demons and all.
She smiled as he raised the top of her bed until she was level with him. “You know I hate hospitals.”
“As do I. But you know what I hate more?” He leaned in, got lover-close. “You dying. So, horizontal and healing tops everything else until I’m sure you’re not going to pop a blood clot or pass out and crack your head open.”
She laughed, because he was just too damn adorable when he got all paranoid. “Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?”
“Yeah, you. Several times over the past two days. And don’t try batting your eyelids or giving me those sexy, puppy-dog eyes. I’m immune when your safety is on the line.”
She arched a brow, motioning him closer. “Are you sure about that?”
He huffed, dropped a ridiculously tender kiss on her mouth before resting his forehead on hers. “You scared years off my life. I just need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m always safe when I’m with you.”
“Not quite true, but I appreciate the blind faith.”
“Nothing blind about it. If you weren’t exceptional…” She coughed, trying to talk around the sudden lump in her throat. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we could con Chase or Rowan into checking up on me.”
“You’re worse than Dalton when he gets stubborn about something, you know that?”
“I heard that.”
Tierney glanced toward the door, smiling at Dalton standing in the threshold, a tray of coffee cups in his hand. The guy shook his head, ambled in, handing her a paper cup before offering one to Buck.
Buck thanked him, taking a cautious sip. “Nothing you didn’t already know, brother.”
Dalton sighed, looking over at her. “I assume you’re trying to break ranks, again?”
Tierney relaxed against the mattress. “It’s been two days. I’m not saying I’m healed, but enough to go home.”
“If by home you mean the loft or Buck’s RV, then I agree. But your cabin…” He scrunched up his face. “That’s still a tactical nightmare.”
“It’s isolated. And hardly anyone knows about it.”
“Which is great if you’ve got a squad backing you up. Otherwise, it’s a death trap.”
Tierney squeezed Buck’s hand. “I see what you mean.”
Dalton shook his head. “And to think I thought you were sweet.” He turned as Wade, Nick, Avery, and Bodie walked in. “Crew’s here. Guess that means there’s news.”
Buck gestured to Wade, his face still several shades of purple, one arm in a sling, but standing on his own. “You look like shit.”
Wade walked over to the bed. “Have you looked in the mirror, buddy? You’re not much better.” He focused on Tierney. “Buck told me what you did. Taking on Grieves like that. Thanks.”
She shrugged her good arm. “Kinda my fault in the first place, but you’re welcome.”
He frowned but ambled back over to the side, braced some of his weight against the wall.
Avery stepped forward, hair up in a neat pony, her badge clipped on her hip. “You look slightly better than when they brought you in.”
Tierney shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “Not having a blade lodged in my shoulder is a plus. How’s Grieves?”
Her throat closed around his name. Despite everything, he still sent shivers down her spine, the echoed snick-clink of that lighter sounding around her.
“Alive. The doctors say he suffered extensive head trauma, but he’s expected to recover.
They’ve put him in an induced coma for the next few days, but he was lucid for two minutes right before.
He whispered enough to make several agencies panic.
He hinted that he’d name the moles who fed him operations—plural—if he got immunity from black-site rendition and a sweet plea deal. ”
“There’s more than one?”
“That’s what he said, but he was pretty out of it, and there’s no way I trust him to tell us the truth. We should know more once they wake him up. He also mentioned he wasn’t the only one who had the intel.”
Tierney frowned when they all stared at her. “Grieves didn’t tell me anything. Which I think was the point. He wanted me to suspect everyone. Keep me isolated.”
“And that’s why I have trust issues.” Avery groaned when a voice rose beyond the door. Clipped. Obviously agitated.
Buck motioned to the hall. “Call me crazy, but that sounds official to me.”
Avery speared her fingers through her hair. “That’s Judson Ferris. CIA liaison out of D.C. He flew in an hour ago.”
Nick coughed. “Ferris? As in one of our prime contenders on who sold out Tierney’s team? That Ferris?”
“In the flesh. He’s demanding Grieves be released into his custody. Claims it’s for the sake of ‘national security’.” Avery made air quotes as she rolled her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”
Footsteps sounded outside, then Judson Ferris opened the door, peered inside. He swept the room, pausing on Nick, then Tierney before locking gazes on Avery. “Kaine. What the hell’s the holdup?”
Avery squared her shoulders, and Tierney had to admit, when Avery shifted into federal agent mode, the woman looked terrifyingly lethal. “Three words, Ferris. Federal judicial approval. Until you’ve got that, Grieves is mine. Period.”
“So much for interagency cooperation.”
“There’s cooperation, then there’s you trying to railroad my investigation.”
Ferris scowled, his gaze flying to Tierney. “We need to talk, Officer O’Rourke. Explain why I signed your death certificate over a year ago when you’re obviously not as dead as we thought.”
Avery shifted over, blocked Ferris’ sightline.
“You can question Ms. O’Rourke as soon as you explain how classified intel got sold to a mercenary that the CIA had an entire file on.
Why you denied the other members of the JSOC team to continue the search for their missing teammates, and why DNA wasn’t used to identify that Tierney wasn’t killed in that ravine. ”
Ferris glared at Avery. “Careful, Kaine. This is above your pay grade.”
“And you’re seriously pissing me off.” She crossed her arms, waiting until Ferris turned away and closed the door behind him. “I don’t trust that guy. I’d say he just jumped to the top of our list of assholes.”
Nick sighed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side… Well, anymore. And I’ll have Sloane start another deep dive. See why he’s really here.”
“While she’s at that, she should have another look at Isolde Moreau from Interpol.
She quietly locked down the trafficking side of the file a few hours ago.
Notified my office that she’ll be here in the morning.
Wants Grieves extradited for trafficking crimes related to the Gauntlet he was running with Pike.
The entire situation’s a shitshow.” She huffed, fluttering the stray wisps of hair around her face.
“All we need now is Malcolm Whitmore showing up, and we’ll have a full set.
Bodie coughed. “Right, so about that… Whitmore actually called my secure line an hour ago. Said he’d heard the chatter that Tierney had come back from the dead. Wanted to send thoughts and prayers. That he was glad she’d survived.”
Tierney frowned. “Isn’t he retired?”
“Heads up a private security firm. And yeah, I have Sloane looking into that, too. Looks like all three are still on the board.”
“That settles it.” Tierney removed her heart monitor and pinched off the IV. “I’m officially out of here.”
Buck placed his hand over hers. “Can we at least wait until after the doctor does the evening rounds?”
“I’m fine.” She groaned. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I’m good enough to go home. Where it’s a thousand times safer than a hospital bed with an internationally wanted human trafficker and mercenaries a couple floors beneath me.”
Buck glanced at his buddies, then back to her. “I see your point. Thankfully, Dalton brought my motorhome, so we can start there… see where we think is safest once we’re back in Raven’s Cliff.”
“Deal.”
Dalton ambled over, held out his hand. “No way you two are going alone. I can either drive or sit with Tierney. Your choice, buddy.”
Buck glanced at her, seemed to drink her in, before reaching into his pocket and tossing Dalton a set of keys. “You can drive. Do me a favor and pull her around front.”
“I’ll see you both down there.”
Tierney grabbed Buck’s wrist with her good hand. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never once asked anyone else to drive. One of his few triggers since the bombing. “You just gave Dalton your keys.”
Buck nodded. “He can’t really drive without them.”
“But that’s the point. You never let anyone else drive while you’re in the vehicle unless it’s only a few miles.”
He leaned in. “Figure it’s about time I made a few more changes. Besides, if I’m driving, I can’t keep an eye on you, and you’re more important.”
His words stole her breath, had her reconsidering her decision to leave, as the room tilted, her chest locked in tight. Then, Buck smiled, and just like that, everything settled.
It took twenty minutes to shimmy into some clothes, sign the paperwork and make their way out to the RV. Dalton helped her inside, sliding in behind the wheel once she and Buck had settled in.
Dalton angled a mirror toward them. “I know it’s technically not legal to ride in the back, but I can take it easy if sitting is gonna hurt.”
Tierney waved it off. “I’ll start here, let you know if I need a change.”
“Just don’t wait until you want to pound your head through a wall.”
He checked his mirrors, pulled out of the lot, joining the evening traffic. The RV swayed along, but Dalton kept the pace light, missing the worst of the potholes. Buck threaded his fingers through hers, staring at her as if he thought she might vanish.
She squeezed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”
“Damn straight. You said you loved me. I’m holding you to that.” He looked around the interior of the trailer. “I was actually thinking that Dalton was right. This thing would make a great mobile response unit, but it’s not really home.”
“It kept you safe when you needed it. That’s all that matters.”
“But it’s not just me, anymore. I want a place that keeps us safe.”
She coughed, wondering if he’d just asked her to move in with him. “I realize it might be the drugs, but did you just…” She gestured between them.
He laughed. “Did I just ask you to live with me? Yes, Tier, I did. Because that’s what, I love you, means. I want to spend my time with you. Love you all night. Wake up with you in my arms in the morning. And we can’t do that if we’re in separate places.”
“And my cabin…”
“Would make a fantastic safehouse. I just worry…”
She sighed, her heart fluttering, heat burning low in her gut. “That it’s not secure enough, especially if there’re people out there who might still see me as the ultimate prize.”
“I know it’s unlikely. And that you’re lethal in your own right. But when I saw you take that knife…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I was thinking on the outskirts. Rural without being hermit status. And trust me… I spent years parking this thing where I hoped no one would ever find me.”
She drew him to her with a simple nod of her head, lingering in the soft kiss until he eased back. “But that was the old Buck. The new Buck needs more…”
“Of you. I just need more of you.”
She tilted her head. “Think we might be able to find something with a view? Like Nick and Sloane’s?”
“Hell, yeah. A place as unique as us. I’ll start—”
Dalton’s cell rang, the blast of music cutting off Buck. He glanced back at them. “Sorry. I’ll…” He paused, staring at the phone. “That’s weird. It’s Avery. But she mentioned she’d be slammed all night.”
Buck motioned to the cell. “Put it on speaker because if she’s calling this soon…”
Dalton hit the button. “Avery? Everything okay?”
Static crackled over the line, her voice washing in and out as an alarm sounded in the background. What sounded like an entire room of people talking at the same time. “Turn… security… Grieves…”
“You’re breaking up. Say again. What about Grieves?”
“Grie… dead. Someone… Don’t trust…”
The line cut off.
Not dropped. Ended. Abruptly.
Dalton slowed, checking his mirrors as he eased onto the shoulder, eyeing the turnoff up ahead. “I’ll get us turned around. Head back. Hold on.”
The vehicle bounced, gravel ticking off the undercarriage as he positioned the motorhome for the tight turn. He held steady, the turnoff quickly approaching on the left, when a concussive crunch rocked the RV, the backend fishtailing through the gravel.
Dalton fought the wheel, turning into the spin as headlights winked on — cut through the night behind them, the beams mapping out the next hit.
Metal screeched, the entire chassis tipping onto the right wheels before slamming back, sending anything not tied down hurtling across the interior.
Buck’s arm shot out, blocked a box from smacking into her injured shoulder as the RV skidded sideways, Dalton somehow keeping it upright.
He wrestled it back, veered onto the asphalt when bullets sprayed across the side panels, punching through the metal as if it were paper. Buck ripped free of the seatbelt, took her to the floor, his massive body shielding her as the other vehicle rammed them again, driving them off the road.
The RV rocked across the shoulder, smashed through the guardrail, hitting rocks and logs, momentum keeping it moving. Tires popped, what sounded like the rear axle cracking as they hit the side of a hill, careened over the edge.
A roar filled her head. Glass exploded. The world tipped hard, then vanished into tumbling black as the motorhome tore through the underbrush and rolled into the dark.