Broken Honor (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“You’ll never guess what we found wandering in the streets,” Jean-Luc called out as he led the way inside the small house they had commandeered as their operating base. He’d e
xplained to Quinn on the ride over that the house had been abandoned when the family that called it home up and moved abroad, leaving most of their possessions behind. And judging by the state of the living room, they hadn’t been a rich family. An old, lumpy couch sat against the tapestry-covered wall, and Gabe rested there with his bad foot elevated and an arm thrown over his eyes. There was also a TV in the corner that was such a technological dinosaur it actually had rabbit ears. Other than that, the place was empty.

Gabe groaned at the sound of Jean-Luc’s voice and didn’t lift his arm. “Please don’t tell me Ian found another dog. No more dogs. And no cats. No furry animals, period.”

“Well, he is a little furry.” Jean-Luc ruffled Quinn’s overgrown hair.

Quinn ducked out of his reach and pointed a warning finger at him. “If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you never do that again.”

Gabe dropped his arm and slowly sat up, his eyes as wide as Quinn had ever seen them. “Q?”

Jean-Luc grinned. “You still so sure you don’t want to keep him?”

“Jesus,” Gabe said. His mouth worked silently for a second, completely at a loss for words. “Quinn, shit. You okay? Where’s Mara?”

Quinn rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, man, I don’t know. I was with her and then…I don’t know.” And it made him sick to his stomach, but he wasn’t ready to get into the conversation as to why he didn’t know, so he nodded toward Gabe’s leg. “Foot okay?”

Gabe grunted a reply that could’ve been anything from “just peachy” to “fuck you,” but the answer was obvious. If his foot wasn’t bothering him, he would have been at the club with the rest of the team. He pushed himself to his feet, limping as his weight settled. He held out a hand, and Jesse slapped his cane into his palm.

The medic’s mood was dark as a storm cloud. Not that Quinn blamed him. “Hey, Jess, I—”

Jesse ignored him and said to Gabe in a carefully flat voice, “Where are Harvard and Lanie? We need to brief everyone on the recent developments.”

Gabe hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Half of our radios don’t work, which is driving Harvard to drink. Last I saw, he was in the kitchen trying to jury-rig them, and Lanie’s helping.” At that moment, a vicious curse came from the kitchen. Female voice.

Jean-Luc winced. “Annnd from the sounds of it, they are not having much luck. Looks like we’ll be racking up international charges on our cell phones again.”

“Which reminds me,” Gabe said to Quinn and reached into his bag on the floor, “I have your phone.”

“You got my message.”

“Yeah, it was in your drafts folder. Tank found the phone at the hangar in New Mexico.”

Quinn’s lip twitched in a small smile. That dog was worth his weight in gold and completely worth the hassle of bringing him back from Afghanistan. “Man, I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about Tank. I’m buying him the biggest rawhide he’s ever seen when we get home. Where is he?”

“We had to leave him behind on the plane,” Gabe said. “We parachuted in, and he hasn’t had the training for that yet.”

Quinn nodded and turned his phone on. The screen lit up and showed he was doing good in the battery department. “No signal.”

“Harvard warned it would be spotty at best, which is why he’s trying so hard to get those radios up and running.”

“Well, wouldn’t be right if we didn’t have one snafu.”

“I hear you. No easy day, right?”

“Hooyah.” He pocketed the phone. “You mentioned the name Lanie. You’re not talking about Mara’s friend?”

“He sure is,” Jean-Luc said. “Lanie Delcambre. She’s…” He gave a wolf whistle.

“I heard that, Cajun,” the woman said from the kitchen.

He shrugged and called back, “Well, ya are!” Then added in a lowered voice, “But she plays for the other team—which, you ask me, is hot as hell.”

Jesse stopped short halfway across the living area and spun back. If anything, his scowl only got darker. “What, she’s a lesbian ’cause she didn’t drop her panties at your feet?”

“Or yours.”

“I can hear you, assholes,” Lanie said and appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. A mixed-race woman with sharp, exotic features, she was all long, lean muscle, but it was her eyes more than her build that commanded respect. She had the eyes of a soldier ready and willing to do what was necessary to get her friend back. And right now, those eyes were spitting fire at Jesse and Jean-Luc.

“And, no,” she said, “I’m not a lesbian. I like men. A lot. Just not any of you, so how about y’all get your minds out of my panties and—” She broke off when she finally spotted Quinn, and the radio in her hand clattered to the floor. Her gaze darted around the room. “Mara…?”

“We were separated,” Quinn answered, because he felt like it was his responsibility. “Zaryanko still has her. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Then she sucked in a breath and straightened to her full height. “Well. We need to find her then.”

Quinn nodded. He could see why Gabe had chosen to bring her along on this mission.

“Let’s take this to the kitchen,” Gabe said. “More room in there.”

Harvard glanced up when they all filed into the room but returned to tinkering with a radio without much concern. Quinn waited, counting the beats in his head before—

Harvard did a double take.

And there it was.

“Quinn?” He leaped to his feet and opened his arms like he was about to give one of those backslapping hugs.

Quinn held up his hands to ward him off. “Mara’s not safe yet. We still have work to do.”

“Yeah, uh…” A flush worked up Harvard’s neck. Dropping back into his chair, he adjusted his glasses. “I assume Gabe’s already filled you in—”

“Not yet,” Gabe said and proceeded to do just that. Once they figured out where Zaryanko was holding Quinn and Mara, they had planned to have Ian set a charge as a distraction for the rescue, and then they’d hump it over the border to Ukraine, where Jace Garcia was waiting with the plane.

Then it was Quinn’s turn to talk. He took the guys through the events of the last forty-eight hours, but when he got to the shoot-out, he hesitated. He still couldn’t be entirely sure he’d seen Liam Miller, but…he decided to mention it anyway.

As he spoke, Gabe’s usual unreadable expression hardened. He had sat down in one of the kitchen chairs to take pressure off his foot during the lengthy discussion, but now he stood. “What the fuck do you mean Liam Miller is alive? I saw him after Audrey shot him. It was a fatal wound.”

Quinn shook his head. “I know what I saw, man. It was Liam.”

Gabe dragged a hand over his face. “Goddammit. Where’s the sat phone? I—I need to call Audrey.”

Harvard dug around in a box and found the only satellite phone they had. Gabe grabbed it and walked from the room.

“Shit,” Harvard breathed, staring after him. “I’ve never seen him that shaken.”

“If I’m right and Liam’s alive,” Quinn said quietly, “and he knows we’re here, there’s a good chance he’ll try for Audrey. She did almost kill him. He’ll want to get even.”

“And Audrey’s on the other side of the world,” Jesse snapped. “Ask me, we should be more concerned ’bout Mara.”

Quinn stared at the medic in disbelief and a roiling heat filled his stomach. He stood. “If you think I’m not tied up with worry for her and the baby, you’re a fucking idiot, Warrick.”

Jesse stood as well, and his chair banged against the wall hard enough to leave a divot in the floral wallpaper. “Family is off-fucking-limits, Quinn. Off. Limits. You know what that means?”

“Yeah, I do.” His jaw ached and he realized he was grinding his back teeth. “I also know that Mara is her own goddamn person, free to make her own choices. You have no right to control her life.”

“I was trying to protect her from the likes of you!”

Quinn flinched internally, the words hitting like a physical blow.
The likes of you.
Meaning the bastard son of a crack whore and an alcoholic murderer, the kid from the way wrong side of the tracks. Yeah, who could blame Jesse for not wanting him in Mara’s life?

But he didn’t let his thoughts show and leaned across the table, got in Jesse’s face. “You weren’t protecting her. You were smothering her. You’re no better than her jackass stepfather.”

“You know what, fuck you, Quinn. If it wasn’t for your inability to keep your dick in your pants—”

“Enough!” Gabe’s voice boomed from the doorway, shocking the room into silence. “We have work to do, and this bickering is a waste of time.” He limped over to the head of the table and stared down the length of it, very much like a king presiding over his knights.

Which, as much as Quinn loved the guy, really grated on his last paper-thin nerve. “Our leader has spoken. Tell us, oh great one, what are your commands?”

Gabe’s brows climbed toward his hairline. “For you? Something anatomically impossible that none of us want to see. Here.” He tossed his cane across the six feet of space separating them, and Quinn caught it. “Use that so I have a good goddamn reason not to drag it around with me.”

And now he felt like a complete asshole. What the hell had happened to his infamous control? Where was the man that his BUD/S instructors had started calling Achilles because they had been so determined to discover a weakness? The warrior who’d never let them find one? He’d taken everything they had thrown at him and asked for more.

Christ, he’d give anything to be that man again.

“Gabe, I don’t know where that—” Quinn shook his head, blew out a long breath, and tossed the cane back. “I’m an asshole.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Didn’t accept the semi-apology, but didn’t reject it, either. Typical. Very little hurt his best friend, but Quinn knew that snide remark had cut deep and wished he could recall it.

Gabe left the table and crossed to the other side of the room, where Jesse was pacing furious holes in the floor. They exchanged a handful of words too soft for Quinn to hear, then both looked up as he approached.

“Warrick, man, if you want to have it out with me, fine. I get it. But Gabe’s right. Let’s find Mara first.”

Jesse shrugged off Gabe’s restraining hand. “Don’t talk to me right now, Quinn. Seriously, just—don’t.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You gotta know that.”

Jesse whirled around, broadcasting his intentions so loudly the next block probably heard them. Quinn had plenty of time to maneuver out of the way of the punch, had plenty of time to launch a counterstrike that would have taken the medic to his knees in less than a heartbeat.

But he didn’t.

Jesse had to get this out of his system, so Quinn took the full force of the blow without even twitching in defense. Blood bloomed on his tongue as his lip split. His vision flared white, rivaling a flashbang for brightness. He even staggered a little from the shift in his equilibrium when his brain rattled around in his skull, but he stayed on his feet—

Or not.

He blinked and realized he was staring up at the ceiling. Not the kitchen ceiling, either. He was in a bed with a thin, uncovered mattress, and something was poking him in the ass.

What the…?

Another blackout. Christ, they were happening more and more frequently now.

“You’re a fucking medic, Jess,” Gabe was saying from somewhere nearby. “You of all people should know you don’t punch a guy with brain trauma in the head.”

Quinn blocked out their voices, squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed a soft sigh of aggravation. Now both Gabe and Jesse knew how bad of shape he was in.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. He didn’t look over when he heard a door close, nor at the distinctive tap of Gabe’s cane as it crossed the room.

“So,” Gabe said. He pulled up a rickety chair and sat down, his boots directly in Quinn’s line of sight.

All right. Quinn mentally steeled himself, then straightened to meet his best friend’s gaze. Apparently, it was time for that talk he’d been putting off for far too long.

“You know about the blackouts,” he said, point-blank.

Gabe nodded. “Since Colombia. Jesse told me about them after he did your physical in Bogotá.”

“Goddamn Jesse.” Quinn rubbed both hands over his face and then sighed in resignation. “And that’s why you’ve been sticking me with B.S. bodyguard assignments. First Mara, then the shelter girls in Afghanistan…”

“Yeah, that’s why. I know it hurt you to leave the teams. Believe me, I know exactly how much it hurt. I didn’t want to take HORNET away from you, too.”

“But,” Quinn added since the word hung in the air between them like an anvil waiting to drop. “I’m a danger to have out in the field.”

“Yes, you are. And you know it, which is why you’ve been accepting those B.S. assignments without protest.” Gabe was silent for a moment. “Have you been checked out?”

“I’ve gone to specialists,” he hedged. “They don’t know what’s causing it.” Which was why he’d stopped going months ago. After a while, all the inconclusive testing seemed pointless.

Gabe scowled down at his bad foot like he wanted to rip it off. “That fucking car accident.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed softly. “That fucking accident. Do you remember that day?”

Gabe winced. “In vivid detail, unfortunately.”

“I wish I could.”

“No, Q, you don’t. I was awake the entire time. The whole four hours I was pinned in that car, I didn’t pass out for more than a few seconds at a time. Wouldn’t let myself until they got me free. I remember every painful second of it. Keeps me awake sometimes, remembering it.”