“We know it’s hard, man.” Nate decided to join in on the gang-up-on-Gabe party. “But you’ve got to trust that every man in this room is doing whatever we can to get Ellena back.”
“And Walker.”
All heads turned to see Jenna standing in the kitchen doorway.
“And Walker.” Zade assured her.
Gabe shifted his gaze back to Zade who had a look that was damn close to acceptance across his face.
They’d all witnessed the way Walker had risked himself to protect Ellena, and though Gabe wasn’t quite ready to sing Kumbaya with the fucker, he was a step closer to admitting the guy may not be as bad as they’d been led to believe.
A teeny, tiny, baby kitten-sized step.
“Come on.” Nate nudged Gabe toward the bedroom. “You’re not going to be any good to Ellena, Walker, or any of us if you go into this thing running on empty. Take a shower, take a nap, and I’ll come get you once we know more.”
Gabe planted his feet and turned to face his friend. “I can’t fucking sleep.” His gaze skittered around the room and back to Nate’s. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I wonder what she’s going through…” His voice hitched, and he had to swallow twice to clear the lump in his throat.
“I know the waiting is pure hell. I understand the thoughts running through your head and the images you see when you close your eyes.” Nate glanced at the other men in the room. “We all do. But we also know until we get that intel from Ghost’s team, there’s nothing more any of us can do.”
“I know.” Gabe rubbed a hand against the pain in his chest, fucking hating that Nate was right. “This whole thing just…sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.” Nate nodded. He didn’t offer platitudes or empty promises, because he knew first-hand how pointless those were at a time like this.
Gabe took a deep breath and blew it out. “Come and get me if anything comes in. I don’t care how insignificant it may seem.”
“You got it, brother.”
Gabe turned and made his way into the bathroom. For the next several minutes, he stood in the privacy of the steaming shower. Letting his head hang, tears for the woman he loved mixed with the rushing water, and he began praying harder than ever before.
When he was finished with his crying jag, he quickly dried himself off and climbed into bed. Forcing himself to ignore all the pieces of Ellena that were in the room.
Her brush and jewelry on the small dresser. Tennis shoes neatly placed by the wall. A baby blue robe hanging on the edge of the closet door.
Turning onto his side, Gabe faced the spot on the bed where he’d watched her sleep just that morning. When he stretched his arm out, his hand felt something smooth beneath her pillow.
He pulled it out, realizing it was the tank top she’d worn to bed the night before. He gathered the soft material in his hand, staring at it for what seemed like forever. Then he brought it to his face and inhaled.
Eyes closed, Gabe breathed in the sweet combination of vanilla, lavender, and…Ellena. He blinked away more tears, refusing to believe this was how their story would end.
I’m coming for you, baby. Please don’t give up on me. I’m coming.
Chapter 21
Ellena’s hangover was back. Like the other times before, she’d passed out in the shed and woken back up here, in the small, concrete room.
As she brought it into focus, the metal door opened. Her heart fell into the pit of her empty stomach. The dark-haired man had come for her again.
Was this it? Was he going to use the instruments on her now?
Despite her efforts against it, her body shook as he forced her to walk outside and to the other building again. Dizzy and weak, she could tell the drugs were starting to linger a bit longer in her system.
The man shoved her through the narrow doorway.
Please God, no.
Like all the times before, he forced her back into the chair, zip-tying her wrists and ankles so she’d be forced to sit there and stare at the tray. It looked like a tray one would find in an operating room—the shiny silver blades and instruments evenly spaced in a straight line across it.
Three times yesterday, she’d been brought here. Each time, she’d thought they were going to torture her with those instruments. Instead, she’d just been left alone, imagining the horrific things they might do to her.
