Ghost a linear tactical.., p.10
Ghost: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone, page 10
She didn’t give a shit about any of it.
Upstairs was more of the same noise, lights, and people. She could see more of the club from here, but it was also pretty obvious that she was looking.
When a hand grasped her hip once again, a big body pressing up behind her, she was done. She grabbed the knife strapped to her thigh before she could stop herself.
To her surprise, a hand covered hers over the weapon.
“Tsk tsk, Wraith. You don’t want to do that. You’ve already drawn more attention to yourself than you should have.”
Dorian?
She tried to turn, but he placed an arm on either side of her on the balcony and pressed even closer.
“Of course, that dress and those heels pretty much mean no one with eyes is going to miss you anyway.”
“How did you find me?”
One of his hands trailed up her arm and across her shoulder to the back of her neck, where he tapped his finger.
She raised her fingers to feel where he’d touched. Sure enough, there was that same type of tracker he’d put on her the first time. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t found it. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d put another one on her.
“During that last kiss? Pretty sneaky, Lindstrom.”
“No more sneaky than you drugging me.”
“Why are you here? I thought we decided you were going to stay in Oak Creek to protect your family while I handled this.”
His soft chuckle in her ear sent shivers down her spine. “Just because that was what you decreed doesn’t mean I agreed to it. You’re not the boss of me, Sunray.”
Was he actually being playful?
She threw her weight backward with her hips, moving him back enough that she could spin around and face him.
Good God. Dorian was always handsome with his rough-cut face. A carved jaw made softer by lips that were so full they were almost luscious. Strong, broad cheekbones. Those clear hazel eyes that took in everything around him. He was sexy as hell in his usual cargo pants and T-shirt.
But in this open-collared, button-up dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tucked into black jeans, he was downright devastating.
Ray fought for words. “I thought being in public places like this made you panic.”
His features were already pinched.
“Look,” she continued. “I can’t do what I need to do and worry about whether you’re going to have some sort of emotional breakdown.”
It was an utterly unfair, emotional bitch-slap of a statement, and she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Dorian had every right to not want to be around people, and she was not handling this well.
To her utter shock, his arms came fully around her, swaying the two of them to the sultry beat now coming through the speakers. Her hands flew up to his chest.
“What are you doing?”
His head dropped closer to her ear. “Dancing. For the past hour, you’ve been close to blowing the whole mission—studying everyone like you were trying to pick them out of a lineup. Looking like you were going to break the fingers of anyone who came anywhere close to you. Not exactly blending in with the nightclub crowd.”
Damn it, he was right.
“Here are the facts whether you want to hear them or not,” he continued, “I don’t need a babysitter. Yes, being around people isn’t easy for me, and I’m never going to choose to do it long-term. But neither is it impossible.”
His hands dipped lower on her hips, pulling her tighter against him. Ray didn’t try to fight it.
“I’m more than capable of taking out anybody in here, including you, so don’t forget that. I can compartmentalize and get a job done.”
For the first time since she’d entered this bar, her brain wasn’t slamming against her skull. Dorian was here. Miracle of all miracles, he wasn’t mad at her, and she finally had someone who had her back in this fight.
He reached down with one hand and tilted her chin up so they were looking eye to eye.
“I forgive you,” he whispered.
“For drugging you in the cabin?”
He smiled. “For that too.”
“For sneaking out of bed this morning?”
“That too.”
She rolled her eyes. “For shooting you with my crossbow?”
He chuckled. “I can see we might be here all night.” All the humor fled his face. “I forgive you for being there that day in Kabul.”
She closed her eyes, feeling like a thousand pounds of brick had fallen on her chest. “No. You can’t. You went through hell because of me.”
“I went through hell because of my torturers, not because of you. And who knows what my sleeper mission might have been?” Guilt flooded her. “What happened to me in Afghanistan broke the Crypt conditioning, so if nothing else, I’m glad about that.”
“Dorian . . .”
His lips pressed gently against hers. “And you’re not the boss of me, so I can forgive you. Hell, I already have. But more importantly, you’re going to have to forgive yourself.”
“No, there are things you don’t know. I—”
“Hey, you Ray?” A woman’s voice had them breaking apart.
“Yes.”
“Neo’s ready to see you now.”
THE PETITE WOMAN who had interrupted their conversation led Ray and Dorian to the back of the club and into a VIP booth separated from the rest of the club by a thick velvet curtain.
Dorian kept his hand at Ray’s waist the whole time they walked, relieved when she didn’t try to pull away.
For one, they needed to be a united front for whatever was about to happen. But more importantly, because he wanted her near him.
He wasn’t surprised by her stunt at the cabin, although he’d been plenty pissed when he’d first woken up. Mostly because she was so determined to do this alone.
This place was a nightmare, and in more ways than one. He knew she had a knife strapped to her right thigh—he’d never known her to wear a dress without one—and she probably had another one stashed somehow in those shoes.
She still shouldn’t have been trying to do this alone.
The VIP area was pretty standard—a large table with plush bench seating on two sides of it and chairs on the other two. A large man, his head shaved completely bald and earrings running up both ears, sat in the middle of one of the benches. He easily weighed as much as Dorian but with more fat than muscle. Another, younger man sat on the second bench, flanked by pretty girls.
Men standing on either side of the table were obviously Neo’s security guys.
How the hell had Ray thought she could handle this on her own? Even she couldn’t take out this many people with two knives.
Everyone stopped their chatting as the messenger led Ray and Dorian up to the table. She immediately took a seat next to the big, bald guy.
“Ray?” he asked Dorian.
Ray shook her head. “I’m Ray. And I’m assuming you’re Neo.”
The guy grunted and turned to Dorian, ignoring Ray. “Why do you want the information we’ve got for you tonight?”
Ray gave Dorian a slight nod. If Neo wanted to be an asshole, so be it. Ray only wanted the information about Phantom’s whereabouts; she didn’t care who did the talking to get it.
Dorian tilted his head to the side. “Why do you care why we want it? You’re going to get paid.” Everyone shifted a little uncomfortably. Neo shrugged and glanced over at the woman who had escorted them in for a second. She gave a tiny nod too, just like Ray had.
Dorian almost chuckled. Evidently, he was also an asshole. They’d both assumed the men were in charge.
They. Weren’t.
“How about you and I shut up and let the real bosses talk?” Dorian said to the big man. He turned to the woman who’d walked them in. “Neo.”
Everyone around the table stiffened. Beside him, Ray’s gaze shifted to the woman. “We’re not here to play games.”
“Fine,” the woman responded. “I’m actually Neo, but most people don’t get past Smith here.”
Ray shrugged. “People see what they want to see. Honestly, I probably would’ve missed it too. Ghost is a little more observant than I am.”
“A good person to have around, then.” Neo held out her hand and one of the security guards placed a hard drive in it. “The information you wanted was more tricky than I expected.”
Ray nodded. “Government files can be that way. I’m sure you had to dig deep into the DoD database to find the location of the person we’re looking for.”
Neo smiled. “I’ve been hacking government files since I was in middle school. That’s not the problem.”
“What is the problem?” Ray crossed her arms over her chest.
“Most people assume hacking is like traveling through some vast wasteland, picking up information here and there where one can find it. It’s the opposite. There’s information everywhere and the hacker has to decipher what’s valid and useful while leaving the rest alone.” Neo rolled her eyes. “The government tends to be the worst when it comes to excess information. Damn information pack rats.”
“Did you get the info or not?” Ray asked.
“Oh, I got info, all right.” Neo leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “After having to root through what you destroyed three years ago.”
Dorian looked over at Ray. What had she done three years ago?
Neo held out a hand. “Look. I don’t care about your little war with Project Crypt—isn’t that what it’s called?—I stumbled on some information, and I think you better know about it before you go visit the person I was hired to find.”
Ray shook her head. “No, location first. The info you’ve already been paid for.”
“Very well. Homestake, Montana. That’s where your guy is.”
She gave them the coordinates. Neither Dorian nor Ray needed to write them down. They’d both committed the information to memory.
“Do you know where that is?” Neo was studying Ray.
“No. Should I?”
“I guess not. It’s a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. I thought maybe you’d recognize the name.”
Ray shook her head. “I don’t.”
A man wearing a jacket, which also meant he had a weapon holstered underneath, rushed through the curtain and bent to whisper something in Neo’s ear. The woman immediately stood, everyone around her following her actions.
Dorian really looked at her for the first time. She was young, much younger than he would’ve assumed, maybe twenty-five at the most. She had long black hair, but now that he was looking at it more closely, he realized that was probably a wig. A couple of freckles showed through the thick makeup she had caked on. This woman wasn’t what she seemed.
“We’re about to have a little trouble with the law,” Neo said. “The danger of meeting at a club with so much illegal activity going on.”
Ray held up both hands. “That’s got nothing to do with us. We’re not undercover cops.”
“Oh believe me, I know. Law-enforcement databases are ridiculously easy to crack.”
Neo held out her hand, and her companion placed a hard drive in it. “I found some information you should probably see. There’s some stuff about brainwashing.”
Ray’s face paled.
“We already know about the brainwashing,” Dorian said.
“It’s time to go, boss,” bald, earringed, not-Neo said.
Neo nodded, allowing herself to be led out. “The info on that hard drive is going to bring up more questions than answers, I’m afraid.”
Someone screamed in the main section of the club. That and SWAT busting in was all it took to ensure panic.
Neo and her team disappeared into the crowd. Dorian grabbed Ray’s hand and rushed in that direction too—then came to a halt when someone from inside the club began firing at the police.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
Everyone rushed for the main doors near the front. Dorian moved backward against the wall in the opposite direction, keeping a firm grip on Ray. There was an exit near the back. Most people wouldn’t know about it.
Dorian breathed through the panic attempting to claw its way into his psyche.
Noise. Smoke. Screaming.
He’d lived in that hell before, and it all just threw him back into that prison.
When two massive guys pushed between him and Ray, separating them, Dorian’s control snapped. He threw one guy up against the wall, crashing his fist down on the man’s face.
He grabbed the guy’s collar and looked at him. He was one of Dorian’s captors. The one who had broken his fingers.
Dorian hit him again and again until a small hand caught his wrist and pulled at him.
“D. Dorian! D, look at me, baby. It’s Ray. Grace.”
“Grace?” What was Grace doing here?
“Stay with me, Dorian. We’re going to get out of this.”
He looked down at the man now lying unconscious against the wall. That hadn’t been one of his captors at all—looked nothing like him.
There was blood on his hands. Just like when they used to cut him.
“D!” Grace had both hands on his cheeks, pulling his focus to her. “Some dumbass knocked me over and damaged the hard drive. We’re going out the back door. Keep hold of me and let’s get out of here.”
He nodded. Yes, he had to get her out of here. There was no way he could allow Ray to be trapped in here.
The things they would do to her.
He grabbed her wrist and almost dragged her through the crowd, using his size and strength to bulldoze people out of his way.
They would not take Grace.
He would not let them take her.
He didn’t stop until they were out the small back door.
Stars. Air. They were out.
Grace was out.
“Jesus, D, you were amazing. It would’ve . . .”
She was saying other stuff, but he couldn’t understand it. Saw her lips moving but couldn’t hear the words.
Everything was starting to move too slowly. To get sticky like he was walking through molasses.
He was shutting down.
He forced one foot in front of the other as she led him somewhere a few blocks away. When she opened the car door, he got in on the passenger side. When the door closed he flinched.
No.
He wasn’t in that prison. He wasn’t in that prison.
Breathe.
Breathe.
There was no air.
13
Dorian had been a machine inside the club, focused solely on getting them out. Once they’d escaped the building, she’d taken over and led them to the car she’d parked a few blocks away.
She drove them silently—well under the speed limit so as not to draw attention—dodging the people and cars frantic to escape the mayhem. They were halfway outside of Salt Lake City before she realized something was wrong with Dorian. He sat ramrod stiff in the seat, looking straight out in front of him. His breath was getting more and more shallow rather than returning to normal.
Shit. She recognized the signs of a panic attack coming on.
“D, what can I do? Do you have some sort of medication?”
No answer. PTSD symptoms could take all sorts of shapes and cost all sorts of prices. She had no idea what Dorian would need to get through his. She drove a little farther out of town and down a deserted road until she could pull off safely.
Dorian was barely moving now, breath sawing in and out, trapped in whatever hell was inside his mind.
It wasn’t safe for them to stay in this area for long. Too many chances they’d be spotted. The killer could be after them, the cops could be after them, and now anyone wanting to resurrect Crypt’s work could be after them, too, now that they had the hard drive, even if it was broken. She had to get Dorian out of harm’s way, and fast.
She didn’t know what would help and what would hinder him right now. PTSD was a nasty beast. Touching him might comfort or ground him, but it also might trigger him further. The same for talking, music, movement.
He gripped his phone in his hand, and she took a chance, unfurling it from his palm and using his thumb to unlock the screen.
She opened the contacts and clicked on Gavin’s name, the guy she’d met at the bar. She pressed the call button.
A woman’s voice answered. “Dorian, where are you? It’s the middle of the night, I need ice cream and Finn and Gavin are comparing penis sizes.”
Before Ray could figure out what to say to that, the woman continued. “Okay, not really, but they are sparring and that’s basically the same thing. Why do they have to do this at midnight?”
“Um, may I speak to Gavin, please?” Ray finally got out.
“Who is this? Why do you have Dorian’s phone?”
This was the small, blond, pregnant woman. Charlie. Ray hadn’t met her but knew her from her surveillance of Oak Creek.
“It’s important that I speak to Gavin.”
“You’re the one who shot Dorian, aren’t you? Why do you have his phone? Why don’t you come back here to Oak Creek so you and I can have a chat woman to woman? Hey!”
Charlie’s voice trailed off as the phone was obviously taken from her.
“This is Gavin Zimmerman.”
Dorian was beginning to shake, almost like he was having a seizure.
“Ghost is having a panic attack, and I need to know how to help him.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, but we are not nearby. Does he have any medication? Triggers I can avoid? Meditation phrases or pictures or anything?”
Crypt had conditioned Dorian’s brain to perform a certain way upon hearing certain words. It stood to reason that similar phrases or pictures could also help him.
“Make sure nothing is restraining him in any way,” Gavin said. “Get him outside if possible, and as far away from people as you can.”
Ray reached over and unhooked Dorian’s seatbelt in case he mistook it for a restraint. That seemed to help a little bit.
