Page 53 of Damned
Kruze had a feeling he owed Bree more than he could ever repay her. “Let’s get back to why you think Lantz is behind this. Surely you’ve made enemies in your line of work, but why him? You’re part of a dog-eat-dog industry and—”
Bree stiffened in his arms, then took hold of his jaw with both hands. She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m a darned good journalist, Kruze. I don’t fabricate stories, and I don’t lie to get ahead. I don’t have to. Yes, I had a scholarship to Columbia, but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am today, and I’ve been in the industry long enough to trust my instincts. Lantzisbehind my kidnapping. He, Josephus, and Berfendeare connected somehow. They’re behind everything. Do you trust your gut? Isn’t that part of your Navy SEAL vernacular or something? To always trust your gut? Well, that’s what I’m doing, darn it.”
Damned if he didn’t fall in love with Bree. Right then. Right there. “Yes, and what’s more, I trust your gut, Bree. I believe you. If you say Lantz, Josephus, and Berfendeare behind our crash, then they are. We’ll figure out the hows and whys as we go.”
The fierce lioness in his arms melted back under his chin and against his heart. “Thanks. I really needed to hear you say that. I... I love you, Kruze.”
His heart stuttered up his throat. She’d said that right before the plane crashed, too. Once again, he’d been given a gift he didn’t deserve, first Robin’s love, now Bree’s. But this time, the stupid guy who’d left her behind in Paris had changed. Kruze almost felt like himself again, like the cocky son of a bitch he’d been before Panama. He’d been an island since then. Maybe it was time to rejoin the Sinclair brotherhood. Seeing the trepidation in Bree’s eyes made his decision easy. “Where’s my phone, sugar?”
“Left side, inner jacket pocket. Be careful. You’re still carrying those pistols of yours, and they’re probably loaded.”
A grin cracked Kruze’s face. That Bree knew what was in his pocket was a small thing, but it was a small, intimate thing. Something Suede would’ve said to Chance. He located his satellite phone, complete with a tiny tracking chip snugged under its battery. He switched it to speaker, so Bree could hear everything.
Chance answered on the first ring. “Hey, Kruze.”
“Did you find anything on that telemarketer?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t Berfende. It was the bastard who kidnapped Ms. Banks in the first place. That—”
“Josephus?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“Nothing?” Bree mouthed, her brows lifted as she pointed to his injured side.
He shook his head, not going to out himself. Not now. Not to Chance. Until Kruze considered where he was, who was with him, and the condition he was in. All three would endanger Bree as much as the natural dangers roaming a large portion of this state. Moose, bears, and weather. Josephus and Berfende…
Kruze tamped down his compulsion to lie to his older brother. He let his head fall back to the trunk of the pine tree behind him and admitted, “Chance, something happened and I—”
“You’re hurt. I knew it. What happened?”
How Chance made that leap of logic, Kruze had no idea. “Yeah. My plane crashed. Someone sabotaged both fuel tanks. Bree’s fine, but I had a little problem when we landed.”
“How badly hurt are you?” Chance kept connecting the dots faster than Kruze came up with them.
“A screwdriver was loose in the cockpit. It punctured his left side, Chance,” Bree interrupted before Kruze could reply with something that didn’t sound so—true. “It went in about five, six inches. I gave him five hundred milligrams of antibiotic, but it’s a pretty deep puncture wound. I bandaged it the best I could, but I’m not medically trained, and he’s hurt real bad.”
“Am not,” Kruze muttered.
“You must be Bree Banks. It’s good to finally meet you, even if it’s just over the phone,” Chance said. “Sorry it had to be under these conditions. In case you two didn’t already know, you’re about twenty miles due south of Eagle Lake. I can be there in five, six hours max. As soon as Pagan hits JFK, he’ll head your way, too.”
“Aren’t you in Montana?” Disbelief shaded Bree’s question.
“Yes, ma’am, I am, but I’ve always got a pilot on priority standby.”
Kruze shook his head. Chance just kept on making her feel like family. How’d he do that?
“Woody’ll get me to the nearest airport, from there it’s a straight shot to the East Coast, then north to Maine. No worries. I’ll inform Senator Sullivan what happened, and I’ll have him pass word onto Walker and Persia, so they’ll take extra precautions with your parents and daughter, Bree. I’ll let you know when I land. Tell Kruze—”
“Kee-rist, I’m right here, you two,” Kruze bit out grumpily. Every fiber of his being wanted to correct Chance, to tell him Robin was‘our daughter,’not just Bree’s.
But before his mouth ran away with his brain, Chance interrupted with, “Hang on, brother. I’m coming.” And click. The line went dead.
Aggravated for some reason Kruze didn’t want to examine too closely, he shut off his phone and stuffed it back in his pants pocket to save the battery. “Where’s my damned gear bag?”
Bree pointed to the stack of supplies. “Over there. Want me to get it for you?”
“Yes, please. I’ve got a couple cans of bear spray. We’re going to need it.”
