Ping.
And PING!
He bolted out of the chair, through the door into the courtyard, and slammed his open palm off the stone column which held up the covered walkway. “Fuuuccck.” Breathing through his nose, he stalked forward toward the fountain.
“Gun—”
“I need a fucking minute.” If anyone, even Talon, came near him, he’d be sending them home to their mom with a busted nose. A light pressure against his knee warned him there was one member of his team who wasn’t afraid he’d lose his mind on their approach. He dropped his hand down into fur and silently accepted the comfort Zombie offered while he struggled to get enough air into his lungs. Breathing hurt, everything hurt.
I failed.
I fucking didn’t keep her safe.
It took longer than he would have liked to find the warrior inside the man, and longer again to allow him to surface past the pain. Once he did, Gunnar was able to lock his shit down. “I’m good, Zombie… I swear.” He sucked in one last breath and let it out slowly, then turned on his heel and went back to work. “Find me that van and its driver,” he ordered as he strode in the door of the war-room. “Burn the whole damn country to the ground. I don’t give a fuck. Bring me the asshole who took her from me.”
“Hooyah,” someone muttered softly.
For a few minutes, he’d forgotten who he was. He could melt down nuclear style when they got Jorja back. Until then, he would work until he dropped. “Damn straight, brother. Hooyah!”
* **
Oh, God.
Please stop.
Jorja’s nightmare finally scared her enough to jerk her awake. She opened her eyes to blackness and tried to move the blankets out of her way. All kinds of confused as to why her hands wouldn’t move, she struggled with the blankets until a strange man’s heavily accented voice spoke next to her head.
“Stop kicking.”
Who is that?
The memory of the van which had just seemed all kinds of wrong in the parking lot ticked at the edge of her memory. Panic made her flail about, kicking harder than ever until she felt a sharp pain on her neck, and even the darkness behind her eyes faded as she lost consciousness again.
Gunnar.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
For what feltlike the first time in days, Gunnar flopped onto his bed. He grabbed the pillow next to his and brought it to his nose. He sniffed at the scent which lingered, squeezed his eyes shut, and silently prayed they’d catch a damn break.
Remi had finally thrown him out of the war-room for interfering and questioning every move he made. Logically, Gunnar couldn’t blame him for it, but another side of him silently raged that it was his fucking war-room, and he could stay if he wished. Instead, he was here in his house, banished as if his input wasn’t required.
After indulging himself in a couple of minutes of self-pity, he forced himself to put the pillow down and get to his feet. Remi was right, he did need a shower, and he needed food. Food was fuel for the battle to come. He’d choke it down past the ever-present lump in his throat if he had to.
He went to look for sandwich stuff in the fridge. A sandwich counted as food. With the fridge door open, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. The plate he had in his hand slipped through his fingers as he turned fullyand realized what it was. He grabbed it and bolted for the door. He didn’t dare check it himself; if he did and broke something, he’d kick his own ass.
“Remi!” He bellowed for his brother the second he hit the courtyard. “Jorja’s phone.” He thrust it toward him as they met at the war-room door. “Check it.”
“You didn’t look?”
He shook his head, not that Remi could see as he was focused on attaching Jorja’s phone to his computer.
Please let there be something.
They needed to catch a freaking break.
“There’s a fucking message.” Remi worked on the phone, then the computer, and the phone again.
YES!
