Page 14 of Don't Let Go

A careful recitation of the details without exposing the memories that had apparently been excised thanks to a bullet glancing off my skull.

It was a compromise, but a good one.

“Yes, please.”

Locke shifted his grip to take my hand as he stood and then he tugged me out of the chair. “We’re going to do this somewhere more comfortable. Who wants to go first?”

“Me,” McQuade and Remy said in the same breath.

“Well, as long as we’re clear on that.” Locke’s droll tone pulled another laugh from me and he grinned.

Chapter

Four

MCQUADE

It was late when Patch went to bed. The briefing had been far more circumspect than she cared for, but we didn’t skimp onourdetails. The only ones we edited were her condition when we found her.

Seeing her injuries, the filth of what clothing she had left as well as the blood and dirt embedded in her skin played on repeat my mind. The absolute darkness in her eyes haunted me. The memory of her wounds was seared into my brain, a permanent reminder of what she’d been through.

We’d catalogued every single injury, not only to treat them, but also so I could keep a running tally of what I would be doing to the people who took her. The fact the facility in Louisiana was still there was a sore point for me.

Though Remington had suggested the site might have been scrubbed since we penetrated their defenses. Not good enough. I wanted certainty, not speculation. I wanted blood, not escape.

The near inaudible, strangled sound came from her room. Rising, I abandoned the chair I’d claimed after she’d bid us all good night. Locke and Remington both stared at me when I said I’d take first watch. Neither of them cared for me going into her room to sleep.

I didn’t much care what they liked or didn’t. I checked the exterior cameras on the handheld monitor on the way around the chair to head to her room. If Patch needed me, I was not letting her suffer. Not when I could help.

Everything showed clear, so I turned the sound down. The motion sensors would send an alarm if they picked up anything. We’d scrubbed our route back after the cluster fuck at the mall. Switching roads and vehicles until we were certain we’d eliminated even the suggestion of a tail.

Still, someone had tracked us to that meeting. The logical conclusion was her ally had sold us out—soldherout. No one wanted to broach that subject yet. While I didn’t think she was as infinitely fragile and likely to shatter as Locke and Remy did, I also didn’t want to inflict more harm than good.

The door opened silently. I’d oiled the hinges because I didn’t want to disturb her if at all possible. The fact another strangled sound came from the vicinity of the bed tugged at me to hurry my ass up.

She needed extraction.

Closing the door behind me, I circled the bed to the far side. She preferred to sleep closer to the windows than the door. I got it, though I wished we had a room with no windows on it at all. I didn’t like the exposure. We’d covered the windows, however, and the blackout curtains were always closed.

Remy had also trapped the site lines to make sure anyone trying to set up would get a nasty surprise. The Brit was annoying, but he knew his shit. Any fuckup that came after her that way was going to lose more than a hand.

“Stop…” Her voice sliced through the darkness. Blood, sweat, and tears coated that single word. It made me fist my temper in both hands. She didn’t need my rage right now.

Phone and gun on the nightstand within easy reach, I slipped my shoes off and eased onto the bed. The sheets were twistedall around her. One bare leg was out and the other hidden. Her shirt had rolled up, leaving her panties visible, but I dragged my attention upward and firmly onherand not her ass.

Even if she had a very nice, very rounded, sweet ass that would be a generous handful. Mind out of the gutter, I snapped internally. Even if my mind wanted to be further into the bed rather than the gutter, I resisted the urge to slap myself.

“No…” The choked noise underscoring the word strangled my libido silent.

Gliding a hand to her shoulder, I settled it there. No words, just my hand. A shudder went through her whole body before she stilled. It was almost preternatural how the thrashing ceased so abruptly.

Sometimes, all I had to do was rest a hand on her. The weight would be enough to push the dreams away. Despite her lack of motion, she wasn’t rousing and her breath still came at a rapid rate.

The short, harsh gasps punctuated the air, warning that the nightmare still held her captive. Squeezing her shoulder gently, I shifted my weight on the bed. Sometimes, if I laid down with her and just kept my hand there, it was enough.

Then she flailed.

Sometimes it wasn’t. She struck out with one hand. The glancing blow barely registered. As strong as she was, she didn’t hit hard at all. It was more the abrupt surprise in the action.

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