Chapter 47
Reclaimed
Nick, dressed in his gray fatigues and armed to the teeth, followed Zach as he slipped through the dense foliage, their footsteps muffled by the thick underbrush.
His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat a reminder of what was at stake.
Kate. Her name pulsed through his mind with every breath.
The sun was still high, but the house was so overgrown with trees that only indirect light made its way through, shining like a spotlight on the rusty jeep parked in front of a dilapidated shack.
The humid air clung to his skin, sweat trickling down his spine beneath the tactical vest. The acrid odor of rotting vegetation mixed with rust and motor oil burned in his nostrils.
Zach, in the lead, signaled a halt, and Nick froze in place while Zach studied the house, eyes scouring every inch of the structure.
Nick’s muscles coiled tight, ready to spring.
His palms were slick against the grip of his weapon, and he forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose.
In. Out. Stay sharp. Kate needs you sharp.
David, go.
David slunk off and found a pine tree he could climb, settling about fifteen feet up. He pulled out his tablet again, his eyes focused on the screen.
All clear. I see no changes. Two outside.
Zach turned to Nick, his gaze intense, staring into Nick’s soul.
He got it—they had to be careful; they had to be silent.
Nick adjusted his grip on his weapon, his fingers tightening around the cold metal until the familiar shape grounded him.
The weight reassured him, solid in a world that tilted sideways when Kate disappeared.
I’m good. I’ll wait for your signal.
Zach nodded before ghosting towards the house, his body a blur in the dappled light.
Nick followed close behind, his eyes scanning the surroundings, looking for any danger.
Every shadow became a threat. Every rustle of leaves sent adrenaline spiking through his system.
His senses sharpened to a razor’s edge—the distant call of a bird, the whisper of wind through pine needles, a faint whiff of cigarette smoke drifting from the guards ahead.
He froze again on Zach’s signal, crouching down as Zach glided towards the front of the house and the guards, his body poised for action.
Nick’s thighs burned with the tension of holding still, his breath shallow and controlled.
Time stretched, each second an eternity while he waited, watching Zach move with lethal grace.
Zach took down the two guards outside with swift, precise movements, in absolute silence, before binding their wrists and ankles with flex cuffs. The quiet efficiency was beautiful in its violence—necessary violence to get to Kate. Nick’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
At Zach’s signal, Nick approached the door, taking a stance on the opposite side of Zach.
His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out thought.
The rough wood of the shack’s exterior pressed against his shoulder blade as he flattened himself beside the door.
He could smell decay—old wood, mildew, and something else unidentifiable.
Three, two, one, go!
Zach kicked in the door, and they burst into the shack, weapons at the ready.
The door crashed inward with a splintering crack that reverberated through Nick's bones.
Stale air rushed out—sweat, dirt, and that unknown smell stronger now.
His eyes scanned the room in rapid sweeps, his senses on high alert, looking for Kate.
And then he saw her.
His heart stopped. Simply stopped beating in his chest.
She lay on the floor in a corner, bound and gagged, eyes closed.
Her hair was matted; her clothes disheveled.
The sight punched the air from his lungs.
Was she hurt? Was she even alive? An icy terror seized his throat, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but move.
Nick raced towards her, heart pounding so violently he thought his ribs might crack as he spun, putting his back to Kate and holding his weapon at the ready.
Every instinct screamed at him to drop to his knees, to touch her, to check her pulse, to make sure she breathed.
He ached to check on Kate—physically ached, a pain like his heart was tearing itself apart—but he’d promised Zach.
His job was to protect her from anyone in the shack. His eyes shot straight to Zach.
Zach fought a man in the middle of the room, his body a whirlwind of movement.
Another man sprawled on the dirty floor, unconscious or dead; Nick didn’t care.
The man could rot for all he cared. Zach took out the other before sweeping his gaze around the room again. He crouched and started binding them.
I’ve got watch. Check on Kate.
Nick holstered his weapon with trembling hands and sank to his knees next to Kate, the rough wooden floor hard against his kneecaps.
He didn’t care about anything but his desperate need to know she lived.
He brushed her hair back with shaking fingers—the silky strands like spun gold against his calloused hands—so he could see her face, before gently pulling the gag off.
She blinked at him, looking confused. Those beautiful eyes—unfocused and hazy, but open. Relief flooded through him so powerfully his vision swam. He blinked hard, his throat tight with emotion he couldn’t name.
“Kate, are you okay?” His voice came out rough with fear he couldn’t quite hide.
She blinked again before closing her eyes and drifting away.
The relief evaporated, replaced by fresh panic.
No, no, no. Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me.
Gingerly, he checked her head, his fingers gentle as they probed through her hair, feeling for damage.
He found only a minor bump, and some of the terror eased.
She was warm. She was breathing. She was alive.
Zach, she’s out of it. I think they drugged her.
David, stay sharp. We need to search this room. Zach’s voice was calm and steady, giving no sign he'd taken down four men in as few minutes.
Roger that.
Nick forced himself to move away from Kate—every step like walking through concrete—and moved to the closest downed man, searching his clothing with rough, angry movements.
Nothing. The bastard had nothing. Nick looked at Zach to see him pull a small leather case from the other man and open it.
Syringes and vials rested inside, glinting in the dim light filtering through the grimy windows.
Got it. Let’s go.
He motioned for Nick to take Kate and get her out of there.
Nick nodded, his heart still racing like a wild thing before lifting her into his arms with shaking hands, cradling her to his chest. She was so still.
So terrifyingly still. Her head lolled against his shoulder before nestling in the crook of his neck, and the trust in that unconscious gesture made his throat constrict.
She fit perfectly in his arms, like she’d been made to be held by him.
Her weight was precious, substantial proof she was real and alive.
As Nick followed Zach out of the house, David reported in from his vantage point.
All clear. No other threats incoming.
Zach prowled forward, his eyes never stopping their vigilant sweep as they made their way back to the SUV.
Sunlight hit Nick’s face as they emerged from the trees, blinding after the dimness of the shack.
He squinted, adjusting Kate in his arms. Her breath whispered against his neck, warm and regular.
He focused on that—the proof of life, the steady rhythm that meant she was still here, still with him.
Nick followed, Kate safe in his arms. She needed to wake up. Please wake up. The prayer repeated in his mind like a mantra.
Zach opened the SUV door for him, and Nick slid in still cradling Kate, unwilling to let her go.
As soon as he was settled, he cut the ropes that bound her hands and feet—the sight of the angry red marks on her wrists sent fresh rage coursing through him—and tucked her against his chest, brushing her hair behind her ear with infinite tenderness.
She didn’t like it in her face. The small detail, the intimate knowledge of her preferences, made his chest ache.
The engine started as Zach spoke aloud for the first time. “Run these vials. My guess is either Rohypnol or GHB.”
Nick’s eyes snapped to the front seat, his stomach churning with dread, waiting for David’s response. It only took a few minutes, although it felt forever to Nick—every second stretching into an eternity while Kate lay unconscious in his arms. “GHB. Like the patch.”
Nick met Zach’s eyes in the mirror, the question burning in his gaze. How bad is it? Will she be okay?
“This looks like a higher dose. It can cause sedation, confusion, memory loss, and even unconsciousness. It’s quick acting, making it a popular choice for incapacitating someone.
Monitor her pulse and make sure it doesn’t drop too low.
It generally lasts for 6-7 hours, so it should be wearing off.
” Zach’s voice was calm, reassuring, but Nick barely heard him over the roaring in his ears.
Memory loss. The words echoed in his mind. What if she didn’t remember? What if she didn’t remember them?
As they drove back to the resort, Nick’s heart resumed its normal pace while his mind raced with thoughts of Kate.
He never took his fingertips off her pulse—the thrum beneath his touch the only thing keeping him grounded.
Her skin was soft and warm, the beat of her life force steady and strong.
He counted the beats, losing track and starting over, needing the connection, the reassurance.
Her lashes fluttered a few times only to close again. Each flutter sent hope surging through him, only to crash when her eyes closed once more.
She was waking, but slowly. Too slowly for his peace of mind.
He curled her closer to him, nestling her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her—beneath the dirt and fear, she still smelled like Kate.
Like jasmine and something uniquely her.
Tenderness blossomed, unfamiliar and fierce, threatening to crack him wide open.
He had always believed he’d never love a woman, never be able to trust one that much.
Love was for other people, for people who hadn’t been raised by a father who saw women as commodities and a mother who flitted from lover to lover.
But holding Kate, feeling her heartbeat against his, her breath on his skin, he knew he’d been wrong. So completely, utterly wrong. He hadn’t met the right person. He hadn’t met her.