“Yeah, and we really cut into our savings,” Ryker said.
“Emptied them,” Denver muttered. He shrugged. “We’ll take more paying gigs after this and be okay.”
Now they were broke. Heath scrubbed both hands down his face. They had to get back to business. “We have to talk about the asshole I fought with at the hotel. I’m not sure how he found us, and he’s damn good,” Heath said.
Ryker grimaced. “He must be one of Sylvia Daniels’s—I mean Dr. Madison’s soldiers. Did you get a look at him?”
“No, but he moved just like our, well, our brothers from Montana.”
Recently, they’d discovered another group of created soldiers, who’d actually been raised by Dr. Madison and were brothers through a common sperm donor. Some of them might share maternal genetic material with Heath and his brothers, too. Who knew? They were deadly but family. Unfortunately, Madison—whom the three of them had known as Sylvia Daniels in their childhood—had some tough soldiers working for her who would have no problem kidnapping Heath or his brothers so she could keep experimenting on them.
Heath stretched his neck, his body urging him to take a run. Two days in a car and a too-brief tumble with Anya in bed had him rioting. He rubbed his forehead. “I feel like something’s coming and soon.”
Denver nodded.
“Ditto,” Ryker said. “Of course, after Anya’s press conference and our actually moving to her cited location, we’ve sent out full-on neon signs for the past to come and get us.”
“Briefly. Just fast enough for this killer to make a move,” Heath said, a rock dropping into his gut. “Timing is everything.”
“Right.” Ryker looked at the murder board. “We have a seventy-two-hour countdown. It’ll take Madison and Cobb that long to organize a full-on assault on us here, so from the minute you go public with Lost Bastards Investigative Services and Anya, we start the countdown. If the killer hasn’t struck by the time it hits zero, we move on and find another way to catch him.”
“That’s if Madison and Cobb haven’t already set a plan in motion,” Denver interjected. “After the press conference.”
Ryker tapped on the murder board. “Chances are if Madison saw the conference, she figured it was a red herring. Oh, they’ll be monitoring Snowville, but she doesn’t think we’re stupid enough to actually come here.”
“She has no clue how stupid we can be,” Denver muttered.
There was enough truth in the statement that Heath couldn’t smile. Tension and stress bombarded him from every side, and he had to fight himself with Anya. He couldn’t go near her again. “I’m in fucking trouble.”
“No shit,” Ryker said.
“She’s stronger than she looks,” Heath said, his body heating.
“No doubt,” Ryker said. “I saw her with the reporters, remember? But you’re on full protector mode, and when you get that way, you don’t think. You don’t cover your own back.”
Heath frowned. “I’m solid.”
Ryker shook his head. “Yeah, but I can see you looking at her like some wounded animal you need to fix. Her sister died. A serial killer is after her. She’s tough, man. But you’re going to screw it up and treat her like she’s not strong enough for you.”
What the hell? “You finally find a woman and now you have to give us advice? Knock it off, Ryker.” Heath rolled his eyes. “While I admire you for taking a chance, let’s face it. Our lives are so unsteady and uncertain, it’s crazy. We have Sheriff Cobb and Madison after us, their psycho soldiers working hard, and now we’re messing with a serial killer. I’m always going to be on the run, and that’s no life for Anya.”
Denver nodded.
Heath winced. Denver had given up the love of his life for the same reasons, and if his bloodshot eyes were any indication, he was still coping by putting way too much whiskey in his coffee. “I’ll help you keep Zara safe, Ryker. But it’s as far as I’ll go for any woman until we’re no longer on the run.” If ever.
Ryker sighed. “Fair enough. Let’s head into the secured apartments. They’re small, just what we need for this op, and they have only one bedroom each.” His smile made his eyes twinkle just like they had on last April Fools’ Day, when he’d covered Heath’s Plymouth Hemi ’Cuda with feathers. “Do you want me to get you extra pillows to place in the center of the bed as a nice divider?”
Denver snorted.
Heath rolled his eyes. “A fence of down feathers. Yeah. That’ll work.” In bed with Anya again? His body heated, completely ignoring his brain.
CHAPTER
17
With blood dripping down his face, Daniel was the epitome of danger. Dr. Isobel Madison watched from the outskirts of what would soon be a well used training field as he methodically kicked the hell out of anybody who challenged him. A few of the soldiers had been with Isobel for years, like Daniel. Others were new to her employ, and if Daniel didn’t cool it, a couple would be new to graves. “Daniel,” she called out, trying not to wince when he drove two soldiers into the icy dirt.
Her boy turned to face her, bare to the waist, apparently not feeling the cold. Cut muscles rippled in his chest and down his arms. “Yes?”
