Rolling his shoulders, Sebastian grunted when his upper vertebrae cracked and loosened with a stiff pop. Josh cast him a sidelong glance, his sharp features broadening with amusement. In no mood for small talk, he ignored his partner’s antics and continued down the hall. His skin prickled and he resisted the urge to rub the tiny bumps lifting along his arms as they wound their way deeper into the heart of SKALS’ headquarters.

 

He’d arrived to grim news this morning. Marx had taken a hit in a car crash the night before and though banged up, the commander was still very much alive. One of the new guys hadn’t been as fortunate and Bradley was sporting a few cracked ribs. Part of him regretted the involvement of innocent lives. The other was too damn disgusted with Marx’s survival to care.

 

The overhead lights dimmed then flickered, casting him into darkness for the briefest of seconds and making his stomach churn. The building itself seemed to hum with the sudden swell of electricity pulsing through its lines. He knew all too well what that meant. Someone was getting a healthy dose of reality. The air grew heavier, and Josh’s stride faltered. Pausing, his partner glanced around, his body stiffening in response. 

 

When Marx rounded the corner, they both froze and Josh cursed beneath his breath. A heavy gauze bandage still circled the director’s head. Deep shadows of red and purple brandished his skin and stretched beneath the swollen scape of his eyes. His face looked bumpy, distorted, as if viewing it through a fun house mirror. Sebastian fought a smile seeing several short rows of stitches. If nothing else, they were a small form of payback for the scars Taylor now bore from the accident and attack. A step in the right direction, perhaps, but not nearly enough.

 

Stopping, the commander leaned heavily on his cane and regarded them with an arrogant tilt of his lips. “And just where might the two of you be headed?”

 

Steeling himself against the tortured screams ripping down the halls, Sebastian returned the man’s lethal stare. Hell and condemnation lurked in those dark, unending pits.

 

“We were going to see if we had any new hits on Patrick James. Is that a problem?”

 

“Actually, it is.”

 

The director prowled closer and he caught a whiff of the fear and death bathing the man. The same cloying smell lingered in the section housing the interrogation and reconditioning cells. It was a sickeningly sweet odor that soured the stomach and permeated the building. There were nights no amount of scrubbing seemed to purge the smell away.

 

He lifted his chin as the director’s dark eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Agent Baas, and assume my rather unfortunate mishap has nothing to do with you or your aversion to the policy changes I’ve been making.”

 

Fighting a terse smirk, he shrugged while Josh gaped at him in disbelief. “Of course not. I was hosting dinner for Taylor’s mother, though I won’t say that I’m surprised. Karma has a way of biting us all when we least expect it.”

 

The hulking director grunted beneath his breath, his demeanor far from amused. “That she does. Round the men up. We’re heading out. You have ten minutes. I expect everyone geared and ready to go.”

 

 

 

Sweat pooled against the small of Sebastian’s back despite the cool breeze whipping around him. Keeping his sights trained on the scenery below, he tried to ignore the commander’s suffocating presence. The lack of conversation offered little reprieve as he watched the isolated stretch of desert give way to lush stretches of greenery and the loud, rhythmic whir of the helicopter blades churned overhead. With each passing moment, the blood only seemed to quicken in his veins. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and rested his head against the back of his seat. An eerie ripple of static electricity moved continuously across his skin, adding to his discomfort. He’d felt it enough times to know it was a silent warning, his body’s way of cautioning him against hidden danger, but there was nothing to do now but wait and see how this day unfolded.

 

A firm nudge to his ribs jarred him and he whipped his head to the side to glare at Marx through narrowed slits as the chopper settled into the middle of an open field.

 

“Rest on your own time, Agent Baas. You’re not getting paid to sleep.”

 

Marx’s voice boomed through his headset, setting his teeth on edge. He wanted nothing more than to rip the man’s throat out. Eager to escape, he ripped his headset free. The tall, reedy grass was still undulating beneath the forceful currents when he hit his feet. Straightening his gear, he squinted against the stinging grit of dirt and sand kicking up from the earth and crossed the field to meet Josh as the other copter landed. His partner jumped out and greeted him with a solid clap on the back.

 

“Look at you all eager to be buddy-buddy with me. It must be true what they say. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.”

 

Sebastian grunted as the blades shut down. “Don’t flatter yourself. Marx has a way of making even your company seem good.”

 

“Like a moth to a flame, Baas. Like a moth to the flame.”

 

Josh countered his glower with an unrepentant grin. Fighting a smirk, Sebastian resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his partner’s constant ribbing.

 

“Just bear in mind what happens when the moth circles too close,” he warned.

 

His partner offered an affable shrug in response. “They can’t all be happy endings.”

 

Pondering that, Sebastian wrested his gaze away from the man in time to watch Marx stride across the field. Thick muscles strained against the confines of his black fatigues and, with his broad shoulders lowered, their commander resembled a bull preparing to level everything in its path. Josh and the others took note of this as well and quickly fell into formation beside him. A cold smile carved its way across Marx’s stern features as he came to a stop in front of them. 

 

“I don’t know where to begin with you, gentlemen,” Marx drawled. Folding his arms across his chest, he frowned and strolled down the line. “I have pushed and prodded you all time and again, yet you fail to meet my expectations. I would say this poses a bit of a dilemma for us all now, doesn’t it?”

 

Their eyes locked and, bracing himself, Sebastian lifted his chin and waited.

 

“The priorities around here have been slipping and your work ethics are lax,” the director continued. His dark stare brimmed with silent accusation as it flickered their way. “This team needs to pick up its pace and sharpen its skills, both mental and otherwise. I’m sick of asking you to do your jobs, gentleman. Since you can’t seem to motivate yourselves, I’ve decided to do it for you.”

 

Josh lowered his head. Taut silence hung over the squad. Even the leaves seemed to still in the wake that followed.

 

“All of you hand over your phones, now.”

 

The vehemence in Marx’s voice warned there was no room for debate. Tugging his cellphone from his pocket, Sebastian tried to keep his rising panic under control. The light lunch he’d scarfed down burned like acid in his gut. One by one, Marx dropped their phones into a bag, his expression shifting into one of grim satisfaction as he cinched the sack tight.

 

“Hidden somewhere in these woods is a target. Your objective is to find them. It’s that simple, boys.”

 

“Who and what are we looking for, sir?” Bradley asked.

 

Glancing his way, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. He was a goddamn fool for sounding so chipper. Marx was pissed and when he was mad, people died. No amount of bravado or ass kissing was going to change that.

 

The director’s lips quirked into a calculating smile. His eyes remained as hard and unchanging as granite. “They are someone we’ve interrogated in the past. I’m dividing you into two teams. The first one to locate and deliver said target wins.”

 

“What’s the catch?” Wes asked.

 

Marx strolled in front of them, his light chocolate skin glistening beneath the sunlight. “I believe I made my intentions clear when I said the proper motivation would be given, gentlemen. One of you will be minus a friend or family member at the end of the day. The teams have already been decided and one person from each side sequestered. Those people have been chosen at random but, needless to say, two of you gentlemen stand much to lose should you fail today.”

 

A hushed silence fell over the group and they exchanged uneasy glances. Swiping the back of his hand over his mouth, Sebastian fought to stay standing. Fear jacked-up his pulse until the blood reverberated in his ears. He could no longer hear what Marx was saying. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. The only thing he could think about was Taylor and how he had no way of knowing where she was now or if she was safe. His eyes snapped to their commander’s face, searching for some clue, something that would reveal who he’d taken.

 

Marx was too smart for that. The director’s stony countenance revealed nothing. He wanted his men to sweat. 

 

Had he taken Taylor?

 

Sebastian’s stomach knotted. What about Monique? That was his sister, his blood, and she meant the world to Josh. Taking her would level them both in a single blow. 

 

That sick, twisted fuck had gone too far this time, pushed to many boundaries. Stunned silence hung over the rest of the squad. He trembled, fighting desperately to keep his tangled emotions in check, but there was so much damn fear. So much panic. Then the anger hit. But it wasn’t just anger this time; it was a full-blown combustion—a culmination of all the pain and suffering Marx had inflicted over the years and all the times he’d choked his emotions down and endured them in silence.

 

His fists locked as images of Lucian and his nephew flashed unbidden through his mind. He remembered screaming for hours, punching and clawing at the concrete walls until his hands bled, pouring every bit of guilt-ridden anguish into that cell when they’d delivered the news that Marx had killed them. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he remembered visiting Christian’s grave. It had ripped him apart to see that tiny mound entombed beneath the cold winter snow and to read the names of the people he loved chiseled into stone. He’d buried a part of him that day. A part he would never get back.

 

He. Couldn’t. Do it. Again.

 

One hand flew to the pistol holstered at his hip. His other arm swung back, knocking Josh square across his chest hard enough to send the man staggering. A noise both animalistic and foreign to his own ears escaped him as he yanked his gun free. Surprise flickered briefly across the director’s face before it darkened beneath a wave of worry and rage. The heavy line of Marx’s brow lowered and, taking a step back, he brandished his own weapon.

 

A loud chorus of shouts erupted around him as Sebastian cocked the hammer and took aim. Marx wasted no time doing the same.

 

“Baas!”

 

Josh’s frantic shout echoed behind him.

 

“Jesus Baas! Put that fucking thing away! What the hell are you doing?”

 

“Shut up,” he snapped. His burning gaze never wavered from Marx’s face. “So help me God,” he growled, arm trembling, “if you hurt my family, today will be your last. Tell me you didn’t touch them, Marx.”

 

A brief bid of amusement flashed in the man’s eyes. “I’ll do no such thing. Go ahead, Baas. Pull the trigger.”

 

Sebastian stepped forward, his aim steady and a feral snarl curving his lips. “Do you think I won’t?” he asked softly.

 

“It would be foolish to try. I have snipers positioned all over these woods. You shoot, they shoot.”

 

“You’re bluffing.”

 

“Am I? Take a look for yourself.”

 

A quick downward glance assured him Marx was right. Undaunted by the multitude of red dots speckling his chest, he took another step forward. A sharp crack ripped though the field, the retort as loud and sudden as thunder. He froze as a spray of dirt and rocks kicked up a mere inch from his feet.

 

“That was a warning shot,” Marx stated flatly. “The next one won’t miss.”

 

“Baas…come on,” Josh pleaded. The crunch of brittle grass and footfalls warned his partner was edging closer. “Don’t do this, buddy. It’s not worth it.”

 

“I think it is.”

 

“Your teammates and family would disagree,” Marx countered. “They would suffer dearly for your stupidity, and believe me when I say you would live long enough to witness every second. For their sake as well as your own, pull yourself together and get your fucking ass back in line.”

 

His finger twitched, tightening ever so slightly around the trigger.

 

“Baas! STOP!”

 

He felt a hand claw at his arm but before he could react, the butt of Josh’s gun slammed against his temple. The sickening crack boomed inside his skull and he staggered to the side, stumbling to catch his balance as an explosion of blinding white light detonated before his eyes. His body pitched. Catching himself with one hand did little to lessen the impact and Sebastian winced as his knee collided with the ground. Growling, he tried to shake the stars blurring his vision.

 

“I’m sorry,” Josh said, still standing over him. “But I can’t fucking let you do this. This isn’t just about you. It’s about everyone.”

 

He levered halfway to his feet then charged. Roaring, he speared his shoulder into his partner’s midsection. Josh hit the ground hard, the air leaving him in a pained grunt as Sebastian tumbled on top of him. The rest of the team descended in a flurry of black. Hands and fingers bit deep into his arms, fighting to pull him away. A sick sense of satisfaction flooded him as he managed to land at least one good punch before he was wrested off his partner and flung onto his back.

 

“You have lost your fucking mind!” Josh screamed, furiously batting at the hands attempting to steady him and pull him to his feet. 

 

He pondered that for a moment. Maybe he had. It was a definite possibility given the circumstances lately. Not to mention the sheer terror of not knowing where his sister and Taylor were. His expression hardened. Glaring at his partner, his eyes narrowed. Maybe the real question here was how Josh could remain so calm. Was Monique’s safety not a valid concern in his eyes or did the man know something he didn’t? Frowning, Sebastian smoothed his uniform and gear back into place. Either way, Josh’s reaction didn’t sit well with him. At all.

 

His partner’s blue eyes blazed with fury as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth only to have it come back bloody.

 

“If you want to die, do it on your own damn time, Baas. Don’t drag the rest of us down with you.”

 

Still glowering, Josh spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground between them. Sebastian regarded it for a brief second, wanting to feel pity or remorse, but all he felt was disgust. When push came to shove, his partner was proving time and again that he would always take Marx’s side. His gaze darted to the director. It wasn’t surprising to find the bastard regarding their scuffle with a smug look of amusement riding his face. He knew all too well the problems and rifts he was causing. 

 

Returning his gun to its holster, Sebastian whirled on their commander and leveled a finger at his chest. 

 

“You better think long and hard about what you are doing,” he warned. “You can only push so far before people decide to start pushing back. I would lay down my life for these men, but if you ever go near my family again, I will end you, Marx. You and everything you stand for. That is a promise.”

 

A heavy pause hung between them. Marx’s smooth brown skin glistened beneath the late morning sun as he pursed his lips into a thoughtful moue and nodded. “You and what army, Sebastian? Save your fire for the field where it belongs. An animal can only lash out at its master so many times before it becomes obvious the thing is untamable and needs put down.”

 

“I’m not your fucking pet,” he growled through clenched teeth.

 

“And I’m not going to waste any more time. If you aren’t an asset to this organization, you are a liability. Make your decision, but choose wisely. One of those decisions comes at a hefty price. Not just to you, but to your team as well.”

 

 He shifted in the indicated direction, not quite willing to let Marx out of his line of sight. Sure enough, both Vince and Wes sported a multitude of red beads. The latter of which shook so hard it made the loose jowls along his chin judder and sway. His attention flickered briefly to the rocky outcroppings and the woods beyond, searching for any signs of the snipers. Unable to spot them, and not seeing any other choice, Sebastian bit back his anger and rejoined his men. He couldn’t risk offing the only person who might know were Taylor or his sister were located if they had been taken and, fortunately for his men, he needed every ounce of manpower he could get.

 

Content with his decision, Marx rattled off the two teams. Much as he suspected, the director pitted him and his usual men against Bradley and the fresh batch of recruits. It was a battle of new versus old in a test of skill and ability to please.

 

Like obedient fucking show dogs.

 

One thing remained in his favor. Bradley was sporting a row of cracked ribs, though it was almost certain Marx had the medical team give him something to take off the edge. The moment they were given the go ahead, he steeled his jaw and stormed toward the edge of the woods and the rocky outcropping to the right. He didn’t bother looking to see what direction Bradley and his team took. If the man was smart, he’d hightail it to the other side of the woods and get as far away from them as he could get. It didn’t take long for Josh to catch up to him and he stiffened in anger listening to the labored sounds of his partner’s breath.

 

“You want to wait for the rest of us or are you just going to charge full steam ahead and call the shots for everybody here too? You know, the next time to decide to go off all crazed and hammer cocked a little heads up would be nice.”

 

“I could have had him.”

 

Josh responded with a crazed laugh. “No, Baas, you couldn’t. God forbid you had and those snipers had taken all of us out. I don’t know what it is you’re hoping to accomplish, but you need to get your damn head on straight, pal.”

 

He came to an abrupt halt. Jackson stumbled with a curse behind him, almost tripping with his frantic efforts not to collide with Sebastian’s back. Craning his head to the side, he flung his arms up in the air and stared at his partner.

 

“Maybe you don’t understand what’s going on here. That sick fuck could have my sister locked up again. Or Taylor—or Aiden or Mia. Doesn’t that matter to you?” he asked, his voice cracking with disbelief.

 

“Of course it does,” Josh exclaimed. “But killing him isn’t going to fix anything! They’d still be out there, God knows where. How would we find them then, Baas?”

 

He had no answer for that. It was just another agonizing roadblock and a sickening reason to keep the demented bastard alive.

 

“Yeah,” Josh muttered. “That’s what I thought. You know we’re going to come out of this on top. We’re gonna kick ass and get things done just like we always do. We have nothing to worry about.” 

 

Gritting his teeth, he shouldered past his partner with a disgusted shake of his head. “Hold on to that confidence. It will be a great consolation prize if someone we care about ends up dead.”

 

Whatever begrudging response Josh muttered was lost beneath the squad’s footfalls and the crunching of dry grass, twigs, and leaves. Ignoring him, Sebastian led the team up the wooded slope in search of a higher vantage point where they would have a better view of the land and any potential movement below. They weren’t half way up the rocky forest terrain when Jackson fell into a tentative pace beside him. Glancing over at the young man, he switched off his headset. The rookie agent took his lead and did the same before aiming a cautious look his way.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, it’s just…this thing…what happened back there…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“He can’t be serious. I mean, he can’t really do this shit and get away with it, right?”

 

Sebastian snorted beneath his breath. “He thinks he can, Agent Lane. That’s what matters.”

 

“For what it’s worth, I appreciate what you did.”

 

“You mean potentially getting you killed?” he asked with a heavy twinge of sarcasm.

 

The young man laughed and wiped away the thin rivulets of sweat starting to run down his face. “No, sir. Not that part, but for sticking up for us and trying to do what’s right. I know I signed up for some ethically debatable shit, but whatever it is we’ve been doing lately—this isn’t it.”

 

Keeping pace, he raised an eyebrow but nodded. It was best not to respond or encourage that kind of resistance, but it did give him hope. Though small, he had a group of men banding together behind him who might be willing to stand up and fight should push continue to mount to shove. He kept his focus rooted on the rocky terrain, scanning the trees and cliff for movement or potential hiding places. All that mattered was finding whoever was in those woods and getting the hell out.

 

The air above them shifted, and Sebastian faltered upon feeling the faint quiver in the ground beneath his feet. It was low, but he could hear the low, guttural sound of an engine and the rhythmic chop of helicopter blades sluicing the air. Josh came to a stop behind him and the rest of the group fell short. Squinting, he shielded his eyes and scanned the sky.

 

“Do you think Marx is bringing more teams in?” Jackson asked.

 

He frowned, briefly wondering if that was the case. The remaining men were too new and inexperienced. They wouldn’t be ready for this kind of exercise. Then again, when it came to business ethics lately, he and Marx rarely saw eye-to-eye. He tensed, his body bracing as the chopper drew closer. Something was off. The color was right, but it was flying too low, swooping low enough to whip the grass and trees beneath into a frenzy. Before he had time to react, it veered in their direction and opened fire.

 

Bullets peppered the ground around them. Chunks of rock and debris kicked up from the ground and surrounding trees. Shouting erupted among the men and his teammates scattered in a frantic dive for cover. Disbelief crashed through him followed by outright panic.

 

He bolted up the hill, his thighs burning from the sharp incline, with Josh hot on the trail behind him. The helicopter veered lower, firing off a rapid volley as it swept past. Darting in between trees, Sebastian managed to avoid most of the fiery hail. One bullet rocked the gear strapped to his back. Another caught the heel of his boot. Wide-eyed, he braced his back against a thick trunk, his heart damn near exploding in his chest. Still heaving for breath, he glanced to his left. Josh’s eyes met his, his expression every bit as wild and bewildered. 

 

He watched in horror as the black bird of death swung right, circling back their way. Levering off the tree, he shouted an order to scatter. Another heavy surge of gunfire bore down around them, drowning out his voice. Uncertain of the terrain above, he scrambled back down the hill, trying to stay beneath the dense canopy of pines. He lost traction several times but managed to keep himself mostly upright by skidding on the braced palms of his hands. Wincing, he tried to ignore the sting of rocks and sticks as they scraped his flesh away.

 

Dirt and pebbles blasted upward in an airborne spray. Debris pelted his skin and hit his eyes, blinding him while another round of bullets hit too close for comfort. Thrashing his head, he squinted against the sting in an attempt to see. His panic rose as he heard some of his men screaming nearby.

 

The thumping whir of the blades grew fainter, signaling retreat. Hauling himself upright, he pushed to unsteady feet and blinked against the settling haze. His gaze darted wildly around him, searching for any sign of Josh. Much to his relief he found his partner flattened against the ground nearby, his body still prone and shaking behind the wide shield of a rock.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Josh asked, his voice bordering on a scream.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, wiping his face onto his upper arm and sleeve. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. I think so. You?”

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

Marx’s voice broke over his partner’s radio, demanding their position. Sebastian cursed, remembering he had shut his off shortly after the teams had split. His hands still shook with a heavy aftershock of adrenaline as he fumbled for the switch.

 

“This is Alpha.”

 

Marx didn’t bother asking for a report or a rundown on their wounded or dead. His next order was crisp and clear.

 

“You and Reevers round up the men. We are more than done here.”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

No amount of booze could drive the weariness or fear from his battered system. Gripping the cup between heavily bandaged hands, Sebastian downed the rest of his whiskey and shoved the tumbler away. They’d lost six men in that operation. Six good men whose lives and dedication they could never get back. The ride back to headquarters had been bitter and silent. More than once, he found himself uneasily scanning the skies, worrying that their friends would be back to finish the job and shoot them out of the air.

 

Marx, too, kept his focus elsewhere. His broad features remained unmoving and stoic, giving nothing away. If the loss of his men hit their commander or impacted him in any way, he didn’t let it show. In fact, the rigid set of his jaw and occasional blink was the only indication the man was still alive. 

 

Everyone took separate paths upon arriving at headquarters. A vast majority of the men sought medical attention. Others retreated to reflect or mourn in whatever scant place of privacy and seclusion they could find. After they’d both been bandaged and Josh’s shoulder had been set back into place, his partner had followed him into his office. He remained seated across from Sebastian, his expression lined with worry and exhaustion, but it was the look lurking beneath the surface of those steely blue eyes that lent him pause.

 

After downing the rest of his drink, Josh turned his attention to his glass and ran a tremulous finger over the rim. “I heard the talk you guys had earlier, Baas. I won’t ask about Marx, but I need you to tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

 

He tilted his head, his piercing stare locking on his partner. “I assure you I did no such thing. Why would I put my life or the lives of my men at risk?”

 

“Because you want him out of the picture, Sebastian. Today was a pretty damn clear indication of that.”

 

“Look at what he is doing, Josh. Consider, just for one minute, the direction our operations are taking. Not to mention the numerous threats he’s made against Taylor. I can’t afford to take a backseat attitude here. As much as I may want to, the man in me refuses to be blasé and shrug it all off as if it’s nothing.”

 

Josh sighed, his expression shifting from one of accusation to deep reflection. He dwelled in his thoughts for several more minutes before responding. “I understand, but he senses you pulling back again and he doesn’t like it, Sebastian. He doesn’t like it one bit. This isn’t just about you. At the very least, you have Taylor and your sister to consider. Look at what happened the last time he felt you resisting. Your nephew and your brother are already dead. There’s no coming back from that, Baas.”

 

“I am aware of that.”

 

“Are you? Are you also aware of the fact that I’ll be damned before I let you throw your sister or my son under that fucking bus?”

 

Sebastian’s shoulders jerked with a humorless laugh. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he asked, dropping against the back of his chair. “Why do you think I have been pulling away and distancing myself from you? He’s already locked Taylor in his sights. Marx wants her gone, and no matter what I do, he won’t stop there. Eventually, he will go after Monique, Aiden, you… He will keep going until there is nothing left that matters to me. When he’s done, and there is nothing else left for him to possibly strip away, he will move on to the next guy and he will start the same cycle all over again. He’s overstepping boundaries. Not just with us, but with innocent civilians. Before we know it, the entire world will be fucked, Josh, all because we stood by and let it happen.”

 

He tensed as his partner sprung to his feet and levered a shaking finger in his direction. “Fuck you, Baas. You are out of your fucking mind.”

 

“I do my job, Josh. I’ve always done my job. What purpose does taking everything else away serve? Marx is the one who’s lost his mind. He’s riding some sick power trip, and he is going to take us all down with him. What do you think today was really about? He’s turning things around from the inside and other agencies are already sitting up and taking notice. This is our future now unless we stop him. Dominic, Laychee, that whole thing was a set-up. He’s planning a takeover and he is using my men to do it.”

 

“You have completely lost your shit! Are you even hearing the things coming out of your mouth right now?”

 

He sighed and averted his attention to the window, focusing his stare on the landscape outside. It was easier than seeing the terror and pain in his partner’s eyes. 

 

“The truth can be a scary thing sometimes, Josh.”

 

“I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation, and I’m not letting you drag me down with you. Do you hear me, Sebastian?”

 

“I need you. I can’t do this without you. You’re my partner. You’re all I have.”

 

“No, Baas. You’re not listening. Whatever you are doing, whatever it is you are thinking about doing, just fucking stop!”

 

The words hit him like a physical blow. They sucked the air from his lungs along with all traces of fight. A deep, wounded hurt replaced the shock and left him stunned.

 

“Get out,” he ordered quietly.

 

“Yeah, fine. My pleasure. Just do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me. I’m done trying to save you from yourself.”

 

He offered an emotionless smile in return. “You’ve already made your position quite clear. There is nothing left of me to save. Have a pleasant life, Agent Reevers. Shut the door on your way out.”

 

 

 

Sebastian ground his teeth as he watched Marx stroll the length of the conference room, his deep booming voice nothing more than an annoying drone that he desperately tried to block. Josh sat in stoic silence beside him, the tight clench of his jaw saying all that needed said. His partner was still angry. Scowling, Sebastian slumped lower into his chair and checked the clock. It had already been an hour and Marx showed no signs of shutting his yap anytime soon. To his left, Vincent tried to conceal a yawn behind his hand. The gesture drew the director’s undivided attention along with a blistering glare.

 

“Am I boring you, Agent Pellagreeni?” he asked, balling his massive fists and pressing them against the table. “Is my briefing putting you to sleep?”

 

“No, sir. It’s just been a long day. It won’t happen again.”

 

“See that it doesn’t or you will be spending several long nights in a reconditioning cell. I need everyone’s head in the game, including yours, no matter how worthless it might be.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. Marx rose to the challenge.

 

“Is there something you would like to say, Agent Baas?”

 

“Other than the fact that I don’t appreciate you belittling my men for no reason?” he asked. “Not particularly.”

 

The commander straightened with a snort. “I see,” he stated. “We are back to you taking things on a personal level again. This isn’t about you, Sebastian. It’s about the lack of professionalism and respect on your team. A fact that has been brought to light in more ways than one as of late. Perhaps the problem isn’t with them after all. Maybe it lies with you.”

 

His shoulders jerked with a humorless laugh. Dropping his chin to his chest, Sebastian gave a rueful shake of his head. “If you say so.”

 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Marx countered, “and I highly doubt you want it to come down to that. If you think the last two weeks you spent in lockdown was hell, keep trying me.”

 

He opened his mouth, but a sharp elbow prodded his side before he managed to voice his opinions on the matter. Furious, he swiveled in his chair and pinned Josh with a heated glare.

 

“Shut up, Baas. Just shut the fuck up before you land us all in a world of hurt.”

 

“Your partner is a wise man, Sebastian. You would do well to listen.”

 

Ignoring Marx’s taunt, he gave Josh a cold smile in response. “I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me.”

 

“Suit yourself, prick. Go back to holding private meetings with Vince. I’m done with you.”

 

Blinding rage threatened. Springing from his seat with enough speed and force to capsize it, he grabbed the back of Josh’s head and slammed him cheek first into the table. His partner gave a pained grunt when his fingers bit deeper into the corded muscles of his neck. The room around them exploded into action as several team members scrambled to break them apart.

 

“Who do you think you are, Josh?” Sebastian asked in a deceptively soft whisper. “Nobody speaks to me that way. Not even you,” he warned. “Before you decide to cross me again, take a good look at the empty chairs in this room. It doesn’t end well for those who try.”

 

“That is ENOUGH!” Marx bellowed.

 

Releasing the other man with a snarl, Sebastian backed away and smoothed the front of his uniform as his eyes locked with the director’s.

 

“This is company time, not a personal free-for-all. Baas…get your ass in the hall. You and I are going to have a private chat.”

 

He shot Josh one last look of disgust before backing toward the conference room doors. As if the day hadn’t been bad enough, everyone around him seemed intent to add insult to injury. Ignoring the pain in his hands, he flung the door open then slammed it shut in his wake. Marx followed shortly behind, his face dark with displeasure and the lingering effects of anger. His deep, black eyes narrowed with scrutiny before he tilted his head, indicating toward the corridor housing the holding cells.

 

Sebastian’s stomach sank, but he fell into stride beside their commander. They were halfway down the hallway before Marx spoke again.

 

“It’s come to my attention that you put in a vacation request the other day.”

 

He bit his tongue to keep from losing his fragile hold on his temper. Choosing to play it safe, Sebastian offered a mute nod and wondered where this interrogation was going to lead. His chest tightened as the director paused outside of Irene’s cell. He had no desire to revisit that hellhole again.

 

“Hand over your weapon.”

 

His head whipped to the side in time to see the man indicate toward the guards stationed outside the room with an impatient flick of his wrist. His stomach cramped and an ice-cold trickle of dread crawled through his veins. This wasn’t good. He briefly considered resisting, but with three of them and Marx all but breathing down the side of his neck, those efforts wouldn’t end well. Pulling his pistol free, he reluctantly handed it over.

 

“Knife too, Sebastian. We know how much you like to play with those things,” Marx quipped, a snide smile curving his lips.

 

He clenched his teeth, but given no other choice, he obliged. Stepping to the side, the director pulled the door open and gestured him inside. Irene promptly scuttled across the floor to greet them. Crouching near Marx’s feet, she pressed a worshiping kiss to the side of his leg. The gesture earned her a hard pat to the cheek.

 

“Very good,” he praised. “Now say hello to Agent Baas.”

 

He took an involuntary step back when she prowled closer, inching across the cement floor on her hands and knees. His stomach clenched, his breakfast rising when she reared up and reached for his belt buckle with filthy hands.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” he assured her, his stare swinging to Marx in disbelief.

 

“That’s right. I forgot. Sebastian has a pet of his own to keep him sated. A rare commodity for my men these days. I believe you know her well, don’t you Irene?” he asked, leaning down to grab the front of her throat. The nails of his blunt fingertips paled beneath the press. “Maybe someday, the two of you can visit. Would you like that? Do you miss socializing and seeing your friends?”

 

Her eyes were blank and devoid of life as she nodded mutely above the broad clench of his hand. Marx’s smile lacked humor or appreciation. Releasing her neck, he ran a palm over the coppertop’s tangled hair. 

 

“Back to business. I’m curious as to why you put in this vacation request.”

 

Sebastian released the breath he’d been holding. He wished he didn’t have to endure the agony of inhaling again. How Marx managed to suffer through it, let alone enjoy himself in those conditions, was beyond his capability to understand.

 

“After seven years and little more than a few days off, I would say I more than have the time coming,” he stated flatly.

 

“Perhaps,” his boss speculated, “but you’ve never been interested in stepping away from work before. Why Hawaii? I would think it beneath a man with your tastes to stay stateside rather than travel the world.”

 

His temper was starting to flare. Forcing himself to stay calm, he returned the other man’s gaze. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think.”

 

Marx laughed, though it lacked any real mirth. The deep, thundering sound made Irene flinch. “I highly doubt that. Next I suppose you will tell me this little endeavor has nothing to do with that whore you keep.”

 

He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The insults to Taylor and her character rubbed him raw. He had visions of cutting the man’s throat, of making him eat those words, but one look at Irene reminded him of what could happen if he reacted and helped keep his retaliation at bay. As did his lack of weapons. He cocked his head. Deep down, he supposed the time and effort it would take to snap the man’s neck would be somewhat gratifying. Not as much as making him suffer, but the outcome would certainly be worth the concession.

 

Marx nodded. The movement ripped him from his daydream.

 

“I thought as much. I’ll let you enjoy your getaway, Agent Baas, as long as one thing remains clear. This is not some honeymoon romp. I’ve let you play with your toy, but you’ve taken this game as far as it’s going to go.”

 

“Meaning?” he asked, folding his arms to keep his fists contained.

 

“Meaning you won’t be exchanging any rings. This train has hit its last station, and if you try to take it any farther, I promise you it and everything around you will derail. Is that clear?”

 

“With all due respect, what makes you think somebody’s marital status is your call?”

 

The commander moved a step closer. “What makes you think it isn’t?” The mammoth lines of his physique undulated against his uniform, making the fabric stretched across his chest ripple like oil. “I’ve had men take that path before and it’s never ended well. Your sister is a prime example of that. While you might not agree that I have the authority to make such decisions, I most certainly have the power and the means to back them up. That, alone, is enough to make it my call.”

 

Blackened silence hung between them. He’d never hated anyone as intensely as he hated this man. He’d never wanted to drench himself in someone else’s blood, or to physically rip their heart out and hold it in his fist as it stuttered through its last dying pumps. But he wanted that now. He wanted it so bad he could taste it.

 

His gaze flickered to Irene. She remained crouched on the floor, watching the exchange with fearful eyes. They met with his, and something inside those dismal depths pleaded, begging for mercy or death. It was a reprieve he couldn’t give. Sadly, some small part of him wished he could. She’d been through enough. Despite his hatred for her and the complications her actions had caused, nothing she’d done had warranted this level of prolonged suffering and cruelty.

 

He should have spared them both the torture and put a bullet in the twit’s brain the night she grabbed his dick. It would have been a much quicker and kinder release. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the troublesome thoughts and focus on the problem at hand.

 

“I see you are reluctant to offer a response,” Marx stated, his tone callous and crisp. “That is fine, but remember this,” he said gesturing to the woman cringing at his feet. “Marry that girl and your new bride will be taking Irene’s place. I would tread carefully if I were you. Given your disposition and performance lately, she is perilously close to occupying that position as it is.”

 

His head snapped up and his voice dropped to a menacing rasp. “What did you just say?”

 

Marx smirked and resumed stroking the top of Irene’s head. “You heard me. My pet would like a playmate to help her pass the time. Not to mention the pressure it would relieve. She’s had a rough go of things lately trying to liven up the ranks.”

 

Sebastian’s glare narrowed even more until his eyes became mere seething slits. The bastard was beyond sick. There wasn’t even a word capable of describing Marx’s level of depravity. The mere thought of him touching Taylor was enough to send him into a murderous tailspin. Clenching his teeth, he stepped forward until the two of them stood nose-to-nose.

 

“That will never happen,” he growled. “You will never touch her. I swear to God, Marx, I will kill you first.”

 

Marx took another step forward. Undaunted, Sebastian held his ground. Their eyes locked, green clashing with brown. Though unspoken, the war between them was fully declared.

 

The commander smirked. “God doesn’t listen to men like us. I’m starting to think that girl has a golden cunt. Keep defying me, Sebastian. Raise your arms against me one more time. I dare you. It would give me great pleasure to see what all the fuss is about.”

 

Hatred incinerated him from the inside out. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had to keep from lunging for the bastard’s throat or beating him to death with his fists. They locked at his sides. The short crescents of his nails gouged deep into the palms of his hands. If he moved, if he so much as breathed wrong, Marx would end this thing here and now. He might have the satisfaction of killing the prick, but the guards would see to it that he never left the room again. He would die here, tapped in this cell with Irene. His team was already fractured. Some of them might come to his aid, but God only knew what the rest of them would do to Monique or Taylor. He couldn’t take that risk.

 

His entire body shook as he attempted to leash his rage. Someday soon, his revenge would come. He would have an outlet for every ounce of anger, frustration, and pain this asshole had made him feel—and when that day came, Marx was going to pay in spades. He was going to suffer long and hard. He would beg for death. The bastard’s screams would be a song he would relish for years. He would see to that.

 

Still, he wasn’t going to take the threats lying down. They both knew where they stood, and he refused to let Marx gain more traction.

 

Easing back a mere inch, he let his trademark smile fall into play. “Say what you want, but if you touch my family again, if you so much as breathe their way, it will be the last fucking thing you do. That’s not a threat, Marx. It’s a promise.”

 

The commander took a step back as well and returned his cruel smile. “This is the very last warning you are ever going to get. As I said, the choice is yours. I made my move, Sebastian. Now it’s your turn to decide how we play.”