Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Neither of them could sleep.
Although Josiah lay in bed, his arms wrapped around Chelsea, his body was tense, as was hers.
After setting off their trackers, it had been a long afternoon and evening. They’d made the rounds, gathering intel, and also classifying every couple they spoke with into categories of how much of a risk they believed them to be.
When this went down, he wanted to know that the only threats inside were the guards.
Knowing he was going to have to leave Chelsea somewhere killed him.
He literally had a ball of terror lodged in his chest, pressing against his heart, making every breath he took painful.
But there was no other choice.
Neither of them was armed, and while he knew Chelsea could shoot a gun with reasonable accuracy and had trained in self-defense ever since she started working at Prey, since Eagle insisted on mandatory lessons for all employees with no prior military experience, she wasn't trained enough to come with him.
He could kill with his bare hands without batting an eye, and as soon as he got his hands on a weapon, it would make things even easier.
Not that he planned on using one when he found Dr. Gant.
The doctor deserved a longer, slower, more painful death.
Keeping Chelsea with him would put her in greater danger, so as they’d walked the mansion today, they’d also kept an eye out for good hiding places.
Their room was out, because once Prey breached the estate’s perimeter, Desiree Tilly and Dr. Gant would suspect that it was him and Chelsea who had led them there. That meant he either had to stay in there and guard Chelsea or get her out of the room.
The anger that raged inside him insisted that he take an active role in bringing down the ring. He needed to shed blood, get his hands dirty.
Maybe he hadn't been able to get justice—or revenge—for his teammates, but he could get it for Ava, Isabella, Teresa, the woman slated to be Chelsea’s donor, and every other innocent victim the organ trafficking ring had claimed.
“How much longer do you think?” Chelsea whispered into the dark.
“Not much,” he assured her, unable to resist skimming a hand the length of her spine. In truth, he didn't know. There was every chance the trafficking ring was using some sort of jammer, and their signal hadn't been picked up, but he didn't believe that to be the case.
If it was and Prey hadn't arrived by morning, then he would take Chelsea and they’d run. He’d cut out his tracker and leave it close to the perimeter of the estate, and then they’d bring Prey back with them.
Whatever happened, protecting his girl was his number one priority.
And he wasn't even going to consider the fact that he’d just called Chelsea his.
Thankfully, he didn't have time to examine it because the hoot of an owl flitted through the open windows.
“Is that them?” Chelsea asked, already sitting up.
Another hoot followed the first, and then a third. Three in quick succession, the signal he and Alpha Team had discussed.
“Showtime,” he told her, the same words he’d uttered when they were lying in their bed at the townhouse waiting for this all to begin. Now it was almost over, and he wouldn't have any excuses left.
He would have to confront his future and decide what it was going to look like.
For now, though, he had a trafficking ring to destroy.
Both of them threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed.
Josiah grabbed a pair of dark colored jeans and a black T-shirt from the clothing that had been provided for them.
Not as good as the usual tactical gear he’d wear if he’d been with his SEAL team, but it would at least help him blend a little better into the darkness, and he had his Kevlar vest on.
Safe.
So long as he had that on, he was safe.
Too bad he didn't have one for Chelsea. Still, at least she’d be hiding away and not out where any bullets would be flying.
“You remember what to do?” he asked as he shoved his feet into shoes.
Chelsea was half dressed, but she paused to roll her eyes at him. “After we’ve gone over it at least four dozen times before we lay down in bed to pretend to go to sleep, do you really think there is any chance at all that I might have forgotten?”
“What do you do?” he asked, enunciating each word, because while Chelsea was obviously feeling good enough to be all sassy, he was not.
There had not been a single mission he’d embarked on with his SEAL team, not even his very first, that he’d been this on edge, this afraid.
There was always a bit of nerves, the knowledge he might not come home, but there wasn't this full-on fear that made it difficult to function.
“I wait fifteen minutes, because that was your plan with Alpha Team, and then I go and find the linen closet at the far end of the hall and hide in there until you or someone else I recognize comes to get me.” She parroted back what they'd gone over, amusement in her tone.
There was a bit of trepidation there, too, and he knew she was trying to lighten both their moods with a little bit of humor.
“Smart Alec,” he muttered, but as soon as he was dressed and ready to go, he strode over to her, grabbed her shoulders, and dragged her closer so he could crush his mouth to hers.
The future was uncertain, but nothing could change the fact that he cared deeply for this woman.
Might even love her.
Whether he confronted and accepted those feelings or not, they were there.
Something he’d have to remind himself of later.
For now, he just needed her to be safe.
“Don’t get distracted,” he murmured into her hair when he was able to drag his lips from hers.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “I don’t get distracted.”
“You care about everybody, a little too much sometimes,” he told her, palming her cheek. “Stay safe. That’s your only job.”
Even though she nodded her assent, Josiah knew there was every chance she would do something to put herself in danger. Having a big heart was a good thing, but it could also be a dangerous thing.
“Your job is to stay safe, too,” she told him, fisting his T-shirt, a tremor in her bottom lip letting him know most of the sass she’d been giving him was bravado.
He gave her a single dip of his head, because he didn't want his last words to her to be a lie if things didn't work out the way they hoped, and he didn't make it back to her. As far as he was concerned, his job was to ensure she lived. His life was optional.
Because Josiah knew if he didn't go now he might not be able to make himself walk away from her, he touched one last kiss to her forehead before turning and heading out the door.
It was quiet in the hall. While he would have liked to be able to lock all the couples in their rooms so he knew where they all were, from what they’d gathered, none of them had any military or law enforcement training, so none should present a threat.
Likely they’d all just panic and hide in their rooms once the shooting started.
Before it did, he needed to take care of Dr. Gant.
The horror in Chelsea’s eyes when they came back from that meeting with her “donor” would forever be etched in his mind, and that growing anger fueled him as he strode silently through the halls.
From what he could gather yesterday, when they were up on the third floor, the medical personnel had rooms in the opposite wing from the medical suites.
That was where he headed now. Prey would enter as quietly as they could, avoid as much of a firefight as was possible, but sooner or later, someone would realize what was happening and he wanted the doctor dead by then.
There was no way to know which room belonged to the head doctor, but he was able to count out any of the rooms that were locked. They’d belong to whatever doctors and nurses weren’t there of their own volition.
Double doors at the end of a corridor caught his attention. Whatever was on the other side of them would be grand, exactly the kind of room a man like Dr. Gant would commandeer as his own.
Stealthily, he hurried down the hall. Easing the doors open, he spotted an enormous four-poster bed in between two floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains hadn't been fully drawn, and enough light filtered in to illuminate the figure in the bed.
Dr. Gant.
Revenge had been something he’d dreamed about for six years. That revenge had been intended for the men who killed his team, but now it would come to another man who liked to play God for his own amusement, for his own power and money.
Bloodlust set his body on fire as he crossed the room and wrapped a hand around the man’s neck. When terrified blue eyes popped open, he grinned.
“Hello, doctor.”
May 18th
1:13 A.M.
Watching Josiah walk out the door had so many emotions swirling inside her.
Too many.
They tangled together, getting clogged, stopping the words she wanted to say from coming out, not even letting the tears that burned the backs of her eyes fall.
It felt wrong to let him go alone.
Of course, she understood that he had way more training and experience than she did. She also got that she would be a liability, that having her with him would divide Josiah’s attention between her and the guards who would be swarming inside the house as soon as the first gunshots were fired.
But she didn't want him to go out there alone.
What if there were too many guards for him to fight against?
Just because Josiah had more training and experience than all the guards put together, it didn't mean they couldn’t still kill him.
After all, they were armed and Josiah wasn't.
Killing one on one with his bare hands was easy for him. Maybe even two on one, or possibly three on one. But what if there were four of them? Five? Ten?
Before she even realized it, Chelsea was taking steps toward the door, unable to let him go alone. She might not be as good as he was, but she could do something, she wasn't completely helpless.