He reaches into the cell and closes the distance between us by grabbing my arm and jerking me into the walkway. My braid swings over my shoulder with the force of the jerk and the guy pushes me so that I’m walking down the short walkway to the iron door that is open to a stairway.
What is it with these guys and basements? Is it a prerequisite to have a musty, wet, cold basement to put women in before they lead them to a tortured life?
The kitchen on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs is almost nicer than the kitchen at the ranch. The morning sun is shining through the windows that line one wall and the smell of bacon and eggs makes my stomach growl, and my mouth starts to water.
The full room comes into view as I step around the doorway and a woman is standing in front of the stove making breakfast, she is young and dressed nice, and there is a small child squealing and slapping its hand on the tray of a high chair next to her. She offers me a glance and goes back to flipping bacon, she purposely turns her head so that she can’t see me, even from her peripheral.
At this point, I don’t have anything to lose, so I say to her, “Please don’t let them take me. Please help me.”
Her shoulders tense up and her back goes straight but she pretends she can’t hear me. The guy behind me grabs my arm and pulls me through the room but I crane my neck to look behind me, “Please!” My voice cracks, her head lowers toward the breakfast she’s cooking, and she rotates her body to keep me at her back.
My arm is jerked again and when I turn my head to lookin front of me, a fist is coming at me fast. Pain explodes around my eye and spiderwebs across my face as my head flies back taking my body with me onto the floor.
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I cover my head with my arms, but a booted foot slams into my shin just as I get them pulled up. A sickening crack echoes through my body, and I yell out in pain.
“What’d ya do that for?” The guy who got me from the cell yells. “Now I gotta deal with her.”
Afraid to look up or move my arms away from my head, I hear the guy I stabbed whisper, “Let’s see if she can run this time.” He spits and it plops onto the side of my head, “Bitch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MASON
THE WOODof the floor creaks under my military boots, and I turn in the corner of the dining room to walk to the other corner for the hundredth time. The team is at the table looking over the maps that Spits spread out before the sun is even up.
Alphas 3, 4, and 6 showed up around an hour ago with all the gear to engage in an op that would normally be just another day in our life, but this op is different, they have Sloane. And possibly my child.
Cody, Scott, and Simmons, respectively, have taken the usual spots that we gather in when talking about a retrieval. Except me, I’m pacing the floor like a caged lion watching and listening to everything that is happening in front of me.
The anger and worry are clawing at me from inside and I feel like I’m about to climb out of my skin.
“Harlow.” Callum’s commanding voice pulls me out ofmy current bloody revenge thoughts.
Hooking my hands on my hips, my eyes snap to his, “Yep.”
“Follow me.” He walks out of the dining room and into the kitchen to the big center island.
Joining him, I lean on the counter with both hands on the cool marble, “I know what you’re thinking,” I say while looking at the black and silver flecks on the smooth surface, “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be focused.”
Pushing away from the edge, he tucks his hands under his armpits while taking an at-ease stance, “Are you sure, because the floor in there is going to wear out before we finish hashing out our plan of action, and the last thing we need is an unfocused sniper having our six.
“Don’t get me wrong, Mason, you’re the best sniper I’ve ever seen, but you’re compromised right now, and I won’t endanger the team.”
I push off the counter and narrow my eyes as I square up at my full height, which is still an inch shy of Callum’s height. “I am sure. I would never put my team’s safety at risk.”
A hand slaps on my shoulder, but I don’t look away from Callum, Jax’s voice booms behind me, “He’ll be fine, boss, you’ll see. Mason would never let us down.”
Callum looks between us, not an ounce of concern that I just soft-challenged him and narrows his eyes like he’s deep in thought. He scratches his jaw, his eyes locked on mine, “Fine, but if I get the slightest hint that you are not one hundred percent, Scott’s taking over.”
Scott could almost rival me in a sniper pissing match. Almost.
Jax’s hand on my shoulder is hot through my insulated shirt, he squeezes to remind me who we are and what we do. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, mentally bringing my world back to level, “Roger that.”
Callum nods and slaps his hand on my other shoulder, “We’re going to get her back, Harlow.” He squeezes and walks around me, leaving me and Jax standing there.
I’m left looking at the space that Callum was just in and push away the thoughts that have been driving me crazy since last night. I have to focus, even if it means pushing aside all the feelings that I have for Sloane, and the surprisingly solid feelings that I’m having for our possible child.
Being a father was never something I’ve even considered. I’ve always had a short fuse and my idea of a good day involves a rifle in my hands and hopefully eliminated enemies from a successful mission. That’s not really father material.
