“Easy,” Ace whispered, keeping hold of him. “Go easy, my man.”
Christian wasn’t living on the same planet aseasy. Maybe not even in the same solar system. But somehow—he hadn’ta buggering clue how—he managed to keep from losing his shit. Still, his heart beat with a terrible rhythm as he shuffled forward, following Wankstain’s orders.
Thirty seconds later, he, Rusty, and Ace were all out on the lawn, shoulder to shoulder and a mere twenty feet from Emily and her captor.
I’m so sorry, her eyes pleaded.
Nothing for you to be sorry about, he wordlessly assuredher with a shake of his head.This isn’t your fault.
Wankstain glanced back and forth between them and snorted. “Aw, the way you two look at each other is so touching it makes me want to puke. Now, where’s the other one?” He craned his head to glance behind Christian and the others.
Christian peeked over his shoulder at the open and empty front door. Angel was nowhere in sight. A niggleof apprehension squirmed around inside his chest.
Damnit, Angel! Where the bloody hell are you?
“Maybe he didn’t hear you,” he suggested, knowing full well that Angel, who slept with one eye and both ears open, hadn’t missed Wankstain’s initial shout. “Or maybe he means to wait and see if Spider turns up to do his own dirty work.”
Christian watched Wankstain’s reaction closely, narrowinghis eyes when nothing registered on the man’s face but confusion.
“Who the feck is Spider?” Wankstain asked. “And why do you keep bringing him up?”
Christian felt Ace shift beside him, knew the man was thinking the same thing he was.Sodding shit. If not Spider, then what in the world is going on here?
Needing answers and also, you know,stallingso that Angel could either get hisdaft ass out of the house or else finish doing whatever it was he was doing, Christian asked, “If you’re not working for Spider, then whoareyou working for? How did you find us?”
Wankstain scoffed. “Who I work for is neither here nor there. As to how we found you, that’s easy. We saw your face splashed across our telly and decided to drive to Port Isaac to have a bit of a chat with you.”
One piece of the puzzle fell into place. Christian hoped to snap in another. “Which is when you saw us sneak out of the cottage and decided to follow us to the airport?”
“Right. And instead of having a bit of a chat with you like we’d planned, you lot”—Wankstain lifted his chin to include all three men—“had to go and try to be heroes, which caused an innocent bloke to get slotted.”
Christian didn’t correct him about the status of the pilot who had been shot. Instead, he said, “And whose fault was that? If memory serves, you and your brother were the only two who had weapons.”
He was baiting the bastard, which was risky. But Angelstillhad yet to make an appearance, and Christian was determined to do everything he could to distract Wankstain from that unfortunate fact.
Fury contorted the man’s face. The overgrown wonker wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, even on a good day, but the hatred bubbling inside him made him downright ugly.
Wankstain kept hold of Emily, but he moved the gun from her temple and aimed it at Christian. And not that Christian ever liked looking down the black-throated barrel of a semi-auto, but he was relieved the dangerousend of the weapon was no longer in close proximity to Emily’s brain.
Ace made a noise in the back of his throat, something close to the warning growl of a rabid animal. It was Christian’s turn to whisper, “Easy.” He couldn’t have his teammate pulling an Emily and jumping in front of a bullet meant for him.
“It’syourfault,” Wankstain insisted, a muscle ticking in his slab of a jaw. “Youstarted all this when you opened fire at that roadblock!”
Spittle flew from his mouth, catching the light of the moon and glistening before it joined the frost on the gravel path. Christian knew he should feel the cold, feel the bite of the icy stones beneath his bare feet. But he was numb to everything but the terrified look on Emily’s face and the words tumbling out of Wankstain’s mouth.
Roadblock? As in, the one in Iraq? What the actual hell? Christian didn’t know this man from Adam.
“Who are you?” An icy pit formed in his stomach to match the sheet of permafrost that had grown thick around his heart. “What’s your name?”
“Lawrence Michelson. Ring a bell?”
“No.” Christian shook his head, hoping for that second puzzle piece and keenly aware of the two men at hisside, of the woman he loved who was so close and yet so far away. “I’m afraid it doesn’t.”
“How ’boutTeddyMichelson? That jog your memory?”
“Oh sodding hell.”
Snap.That was the sound of the next puzzle piece falling into place, and Christian thought he was starting to discern the whole picture. His heart broke through its icy casing and plummeted. If he dared take his eye off Lawrence’sgun, he figured he’d see the organ lying on the ground at his feet.
