Sebastian startled awake, his body stiff and jerking violently against the restraints. The pain rocketing through his midsection was unlike anything he’d ever felt before but it was the memories of what had happened that suffused him with anguish and terror. The cold, white sterile walls, blinding surgical lights, and rows of stainless steel medical equipment did nothing to alleviate his fears. Straining against the leather cuffs binding his wrists, he fought to pull free as his eyes darted back and forth in a frantic search for Taylor. The sheets on the bed beside him were bloody and rumpled. It had been used, but it now sat empty. His chest heaved with the heavy onset of panic.

 

“Baas…”

 

He startled at the sound of Jackson’s voice. He knew he was still disorientated and nothing was making sense, but it truly felt like the kid had appeared out of nowhere. The young man had taken a hell of a beating. Blood soaked through the gauze circling his ribs and there didn’t seem to be an inch of his caramel skin that wasn’t cut or discolored with bruises. Still fighting to find his voice, he watched Jackson approach the side of his bed.

 

“Taylor…”

 

Before the young man could respond, the door swung open hard enough to rebound off the painted cement block wall. He winced as the noise set off a series of painful explosions in his head.

 

“I will handle this,” Marx directed.

 

Jackson seemed to hesitate for a moment but nodded. He dragged his feet as he backed out of the commander’s way, his movements cumbersome and sluggish from the pain. Sebastian’s forehead creased with worry. Wresting his stare from his teammate, he met the ebony pools of Marx’s eyes. He studied those fathomless reflections, searching for regret, rage, humor, anything that might help him brace himself for what lie ahead, but per usual, the man’s face gave away nothing. Without a word, Marx reached into his inside pocket and dropped an amethyst pendant with a gleaming silver chain onto Sebastian’s bed.

 

Two simultaneous reactions stuck him. One was of being doused with a torrent of ice water, the other a sword straight through his chest. He stared at the necklace in horror, recoiling further into the mattress as he shook his head.

 

“No.”

 

The word left him in a shallow pant.

 

“No…God…please.”

 

“There’s no easy way to say this, Sebastian, and I see no point in beating around the bush--”

 

“No,” he repeated, cutting Marx off. “Where is she?”

 

“Your lover is dead.”

 

His chest jerked with painful, violent spasms. His lungs burned. He couldn’t breathe. Bewildered, he stared back at Marx. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. It had to be a sick joke, some cruel twisted game the man was playing to pull him back under his spell. If that was his angle, it was working. He no longer cared what happened, or what he had to do, he just wanted the pain that was ripping him apart to stop. Swinging his gaze back up to Marx’s, Sebastian caved.

 

"Don’t say that…don’t do this. I will do anything you want. Anything…anything you ask, alright?" he asked, his voice breaking. Tears welled. They mingled with the blood and blurred his eyes. "You can blow the whole damn world up. I don't care. Whatever your plans are, whatever you need, I will do it. Just...please...God...please don't hurt her. Let me have her back."

 

Marx’s full lips flattened. Crossing his arms against the barreled expanse of his chest, he shook his head. “You aren’t listening to me, Sebastian. Taylor is dead. Nothing you can say or do will bring her back. That’s just the way it is.”

 

A low, pitiful noise broke in the back of his throat. He knew they could get him killed, but the tears still came. It felt like someone was bashing his chest in with a sledgehammer, beating and battering until everything inside him splintered.

 

“I need to see her.”

 

The commander gave another stern shake of his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

 

“I don’t care. I need to see her. I have to…”

 

“There was another explosion after you lost consciousness. She was badly burned. There is nothing left of her to see. Nothing you would want to remember at any rate. I suggest you calm yourself down and get some rest.”

 

The images slamming through his head were devastating. There was no way to escape them or the things Marx was saying. He had to break free. He had to be with Taylor. He needed to see her face. He had to hold her one last time and tell her he was sorry. He was so damn sorry. He needed to promise he would always love her. Marx didn’t understand. Maybe if he cried and begged hard enough she would find a way to come back to him and stay. If not, he would lay there with her until he died.

 

Sebastian thrashed, bucking against the restraints with all his might. “Let me go,” he choked. “I need to be with her. I have to see her. Please…you don’t understand.”

 

He begged and pleaded. Anger mixing with anguish as he repeated himself over and over again. The heartache was crushing and he found himself sobbing and gasping just to breathe yet he still fought, thrashing and bowing violently against the restraints. The rapid beeping of the monitors glued to his chest grew louder and more frantic until they came so fast they seemed to mingle together in one steady stream.

 

“That’s it!” Marx bellowed. “Knock his ass out and put him under. He’s crashing.”

 

He battled against the hands fighting to steady him and hold him down, but to no avail. He didn’t want their help. He wanted them to let him die. There was nothing left for him here anymore. He couldn’t face the thought of living without Taylor….he didn’t even want to try.

 

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

Pain was a constant and devastating force. It was the only companion he had left. He’d spent a week staring at the dismal, headquarter walls, willing himself to die, forcing himself not to feel. His waking hours were spent wavering between wallowing in a combination of scathing anger and despair. Sometimes, he cried. Sometimes he screamed, but it changed nothing.

 

Another small part of him withered and fell dead off the earth as Jackson steered the car up the winding uphill slope and into the drive. The security team was waiting there to meet him, but their presence no longer mattered. Bracing himself, he tried to still the small tremble that ran through him. He didn’t know how he was going to face walking into that house again alone. For almost a year, it had served as a haven for him and Taylor. It was where they had laughed and loved, where they’d shared their dreams, and now none of that remained.

 

Jackson hesitated as he unhooked his seatbelt and turned toward the backseat to gather the small box of ashes that carried Taylor’s remains.

 

“Do you want me to walk you in, sir?”

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

Worry lined the young man’s face. He’d spent hours at Sebastian’s bedside. Though most of it was spent in silence, he’d tried to offer a few quiet words of comfort. None of which worked. His grip tightened on the steering wheel ever so slightly, but Jackson didn’t argue.

 

“Tell me one more time,” he ordered, his voice flat.

 

“I overheard Marx and Brad talking about using c-4 explosives to neutralize a situation. Their plan was to use an unmarked cable van. When I saw one pull up and park in front of the restaurant, I was pretty sure that had to be it. I rushed inside to tell you, sir, but it was too late.”

 

“I should have had this information beforehand.”

 

“I agree, sir, but I honestly thought they were talking about Operation Black Out at the time. It never occurred to me that…”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, putting an abrupt end to the explanation. “Be extremely careful in how you do it, but pull the rest of the men. Vincent has the list.

 

“Yes, sir. In the meantime, if you need a ride or anything at all, don’t hesitate. Just call.”

 

Offering a curt nod, Sebastian opened the door and eased himself out of the vehicle. Rupert stepped forward, as if to assist him, but a piercing glare halted the Cajun in his tracks. The head of security eased back enough to allow Jackson to maneuver his car down the circular drive. Tension and reluctance hung between them. There was no mistaking the hurt or disappointment in the security guard’s eyes each time they shifted to the box. Jaw clenching, Sebastian cradled it closer.

 

“Sir…I…”

 

A strained swallow pushed past his throat. He couldn’t do this. Turning his back on the man, Sebastian cut him off and headed for the house with a disparaging shake of his head.

 

The stillness hit him first. There was a silence, a lifelessness that swept through him and settled deep into his bones. Sebastian’s fingers tightened on the box as a horrifying thought occurred to him. He didn’t know what to do with it. Where did he put her? He still hadn’t been able to decide if he wanted an urn or if she should have a burial service. It didn’t feel right to part with her, and it didn’t feel humane to put the ashes down. He supposed eventually he would need to make that decision, but right now, it was too much to bear.

 

Numb, he forced himself further inside their home. The crushing sensation in his chest grew fiercer and tears burned, unshed in his eyes. He saw her and felt her everywhere. His memories of Taylor were a living and breathing force. He could still hear her throaty laughter and smell her scent lingering in the air. Part of him kept expecting to see her pop her head around the corner at any second, flashing her radiant smile.

 

He wanted that. He wanted it more than anything.

 

Somehow, he managed to force himself to make the arduous journey up the stairs. It took effort to keep his gaze from drifting toward the guestroom they’d planned to turn into a nursery. It took even more to push open the doors to the bedroom they’d shared. Crossing the room, he gingerly laid the box on her side of the bed. He then reached into his pocket to retrieve the necklace he’d given her and the diamond engagement ring. Hesitation ran through him as he tied to decide if those were best placed on the nightstand or the bed.

 

His gaze flickered to the small table. It was a costly mistake. He swallowed seeing the exact replicas of the nursery she’d wanted, the pages she’d pulled from the home decorating magazines still there and waiting for her return. Waiting for her and the baby that would never come. Sebastian’s hands shook and, lifting the glossy papers from the nightstand, he hit his knees.

 

Deep, gut-wrenching sobs racked him from the inside out. His mouth opened and closed, his head shaking from side to side, but it took several tries before he managed to lend voice to his tormented screams. Still clutching the magazine pages in one hand, he slammed his fists repeatedly into the table, roaring his anguish. The wood splintered and his knuckles bled. His voice grew cracked and hoarse, but the cries kept coming. Hyperventilation set in, robbing him of the last of his breath.

 

The pain was just too much. He couldn’t endure another day of this, much less the rest of his life. Still shaking and gasping, and blinded by tears he couldn’t stop, he fumbled for his gun. His fingers locked around the grip and he cocked the safety. Closing his eyes, he settled the wide barrel beneath his chin.

 

“Sir…”

 

Rupert’s voice sounded from the doorway. The intrusion sent him into a tailspin.

 

“What are you doing here?” he choked. “Get out.”

 

“No, sir. I can’t do that.”

 

Sebastian tensed, his entire body growing rigid as hurried footsteps whispered across the carpet. The strapping head of security crouched down beside him, reaching for his gun and he struck out, batting the Cajun’s hands away.

 

“Get the hell away from me!” he snapped.

 

“I can’t let you do this.”

 

“It’s not your choice.”

 

“I know it hurts, but this isn’t the way, Sebastian. Give me the gun,” Rupert coaxed, his baritone deep and soothing.

 

“I can’t do this. I can’t…breathe….”

 

“I know, sir. I know.”

 

“No you don’t,” Sebastian choked between heaves.

 

“I know you loved her something fierce, Agent Baas. Anyone could see that. She was a sweet girl, beautiful, had a way about her that made everything seem right and I know she wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you to end things this way,” Rupert insisted. “My heart is hurting too, but this won’t fix anything. We need to do right by her, sir. Honor her memory, and the way I see it, the only way to do that is to make the assholes responsible for this pay.”

 

Tears still streamed down Sebastian’s face, but his hold on the gun lessened with the man’s words. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. Seizing the opportunity, Rupert eased the Desert Eagle from his hand. The security guard tucked the gun away before wrapping a powerful arm around his shoulders and hauling him to his feet.

 

He didn’t have the energy or the strength left in him to fight. Sebastian stumbled back a few steps and dropped onto the edge of the bed. Rupert hesitated for several more seconds before easing toward the bedroom doors.

 

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

 

“Not tonight.”

 

He didn’t bother waiting for a response. Swinging his legs up onto the mattress, he curled onto his side and pulled Taylor’s pillow tight against his chest. It didn’t compare to holding her, but it was all he had. He forced himself to accept that as he stroked his fingers over the cool surface and inhaled, pulling the sweet remnants of her scent deep into his lungs. It took hours, but he finally managed to cry himself into a restless sleep. 

 

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

The black shadows were as impenetrable as the pain, the air so hot and thick it was smothering. It felt like an entire Irish dance troupe had taken up residence inside Taylor’s head. The pounding inside her skull was brutal. Wincing, she lay motionless. Sweat trickled down her face and sides where it pooled beneath her back. The fact that she was naked slowly dawned on her and, for a moment, she was almost grateful. The sweltering heat made it feel as if she were being cooked alive.

 

She licked her lips, grimacing at the thick, swollen feel of her tongue and the dry, cracked surface it scraped. Her throat ached with her efforts to swallow.

 

As consciousness crept through her, she became more in tune with her body and the searing pain afflicting her shoulders. It burned, shooting like liquid fire down her arms. She shifted, only to find her hands bound over her head. The slight rattle of chains wasn’t surprising. It was the sudden bite of razor-sharp wire slicing into her wrists that caught her off guard. Panicked, she struggled but the more she moved, the deeper it gouged.

 

Something warm and wet trickled down the inside of her wrists. Realizing if she didn’t stop, she was going to rip herself to shreds, she stilled. A pitiful whimper welled in her chest as the reality of her situation dawned on her. She was trapped, chained, and most likely held hostage by a man who wanted her dead. It was a wonder he hadn’t finished the job already. A small shiver ran through her when she realized that would be far too quick and easy for a man of Marx’s caliber. He would want to see her suffer long and hard first.

 

Turning her head, she scanned the darkened confines, searching for cracks or seams, anything she could use as a means of escape. The room was almost pitch black making it too hard to tell where one wall ended and another began—much less decipher anything that could be of use.

 

A familiar voice resonated somewhere outside her cell and her heart turned into a thunderous bass, slamming against the walls of her chest. Holding her breath, she closed her eyes, praying the man would leave. Each passing second became a maddening eternity. Her ears strained listening to the muffled exchange on the other side of the wall. Someone laughed and the callous sound rendered her numb.

 

Ice-cold dread settled over her the instant the door swung open. Lifting her head, Taylor squinted against the sudden intrusion of light, trying to decipher the shadowy outline looming in the doorframe. Her stomach clenched and rolled in an uneasy flip. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders and thick, heavily muscled torso. Here she was, face-to-face with the same monster who haunted her dreams and kept Sebastian awake at night. Only this time, it was no nightmare. It was real.

 

She tried to inch away, but the chains on her ankles tightened. The sound of their discordant rattle drew a quiet laugh from the other side of the room as Marx flipped on the lights.

 

“Rise and shine, Miss McAvay,” he taunted. “I’m so glad to see you’re finally awake.”

 

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

 

 

 

 

Sebastian let his eyes drift shut and drew the crisp smell of summer and charred wood into his lungs. If he tried hard enough, he could almost conjure Taylor’s scent beneath the smoky aroma. He was risking much being there, but he had to see what was left of the restaurant one last time. It was the last place she had been. The last place where he’d seen her alive. His body was still achy and battered, his heart splintered into a million pieces. The fear and suffering he’d seen on her face that day were indelibly branded into his mind.

 

Rupert was right. Marx and anyone else who had played a hand in this needed to pay. He no longer cared who got caught in the crossfires or who died. He would level anything and everyone standing in his way. His life was over and he had nothing left to lose. The brief chirp of a siren drew his attention and, turning on his heel, Sebastian stared back at the squad car with narrowed green eyes.

 

“The files you requested, sir,” the fresh-faced officer inside said, leaning over the passenger seat to extend a manila envelope his way. “I can’t believe this. I’m still in shock over this whole thing. Stuff like that just doesn’t happen here. Then again, it doesn’t seem like any place is safe from this shit nowadays. There’s bombings and shooting sprees all over. You would think people would find better ways to spend their time.”

 

A cold smile stretched his lips. “You would think so.”

 

“I’m praying Big Brother nails these bastards. Have a good night, Agent Baas. Hope the info helps.”

 

He stared after the car until the red taillights rounded the corner. Giving a disgusted shake of his head, he tucked the file inside his coat. What the hell was it with people and their need for idle chitter chatter?

 

He ducked his head as he roamed the streets and made his way back into the city. He didn’t want to feel warmth or sunshine on his face. He cursed the sun. It was hard to enjoy anything when his heart was cold and his soul was dead. Vengeance. Vengeance was all he had.

 

Fortunately, he was in luck and didn’t have far to go before the neon glow of a coffee shop beckoned him in off the street. Wiping the small beads of sweat from his brow, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The crisp air-conditioning hit him, briefly paralyzing his lungs. A pretty blonde glanced up from behind the counter and chimed a greeting. Her gaze moved over him in slow appraisal, and liking what she saw, her smile deepened. He didn’t return the gesture. Her cheeks flushed as he pinned her with a hard stare and held it until she bowed her head in deferral.

 

After scanning the empty booths, he chose a small circular one in the back and pulled the envelope from the folds of his jacket. He bit back a growl as the waitress hurried to his side.

 

“Can I get you some coffee or pie? We have cherry, peach, app--”

 

“Coffee is fine. Black and make it decaf.”

 

“Coming up in just a second.”

 

His fists balled beneath the table. He had half a mind to smack the chipper smile right off her face. It wasn’t a nice thought, but it was the best he had. She wasn’t Taylor. She would never be Taylor, and nothing would ever bring the woman he loved back. Those were the cold, hard facts. The bitter realities he woke up to and faced every single day. 

 

Letting his head fall back to rest against the padding, he raked a hand through his curls and sighed. He could never replace the things he had lost. His future, his dreams, his unborn child, the love of his life and his best friend were all gone. No one else would ever understand or accept him the way Taylor had. Her love had been unconditional. No one else would ever feel as good wrapped around his shaft. His breath caught as he remembered the tight grasp of her body and the sweet taste of her skin. She’d always been so eager. Not for him, but to appease the beast within and, in the end, it was all the same. That monster was all that remained. Marx had accomplished his goal in spades. The bastard had snuffed out the last shred of his humanity the second he’d extinguished Taylor’s flame.

 

He smirked at the irony in those words, his eyes taking on a cold gleam beneath the fluorescent lights. The asshole was going to get what he deserved. He no longer cared who or what he had to destroy to accomplish that goal. Enough was enough.

 

Sebastian glanced up as the waitress set his coffee down and scrambled back behind the relative safety of the counter. Her actions brought him a small twinge of amusement. Maybe she was a smart girl after all.

 

He pulled the files out and spread them on the table before him. Taking a long sip of his coffee, he scanned the documents. His smile faltered and faded. He sat up a little straighter, his intense gaze narrowing in interest. The quiet rustle of paper filled the diner as he frantically flipped through the pages, searching them from front to back.

 

“What is this?” he mused, his pulse quickening.

 

Bracing his elbows on the table, Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his sinuses. It did nothing to diffuse the dull ache budding behind them.

 

The incident reports were clear. Nothing in them came as any shock. What did was the complete lack of evidence backing the statements that Taylor was dead. Marx claimed they’d transported her remains to the hospital, but there were no pictures. No body. Nothing. Nothing but useless words and the familiar tingle that assured him Taylor was near.