slept in the war room more often than they did the house.
Ethan headed there first. Last he’d heard, one of the KGI teams was doing a recon mission, which meant that his brothers wouldn’t venture far from the communications room.
The facility was impenetrable thanks to a high-tech security system. The location was benign and seemingly innocent, which was why Sam liked it so much. No one would suspect that military operations were planned and carried out in rural Stewart County.
Ethan stopped at the keypad and had to think hard to remember the security code. The last thing he wanted to do was get it wrong and get his ass laid out by his brothers.
After he’d punched in a series of codes, the door opened and he walked inside. Sam and Garrett were sprawled on the couches in the middle of the room, while predictably, Donovan was manning the computer system referred to as Hoss.
Ethan strode forward, a determined set to his mouth. There was nothing to be gained by coming across as some weak pansy. Sam looked up when he heard Ethan, and his eyes widened in surprise. He kicked at Garrett’s leg that rested on the coffee table and gestured in Ethan’s direction.
“ ’Bout time you dragged your carcass out of that house,” Sam drawled.
Donovan swiveled in his chair, and his surprised gaze met Ethan’s. “Hey, man, it’s good to see you.”
“You look like shit,” Garrett said bluntly. “When was the last time you slept?”
Ethan ignored the pleasantries and Garrett’s observations. “I need your help.”
Sam’s brows drew together, and he stared intently at Ethan. His gaze swept up and down, taking in every detail of his appearance. When he spoke, it was in a quiet, but firm voice. “You know all you have to do is ask.”
Ethan licked his lips and swallowed back the urge to blurt out everything in a rush. “I need KGI’s help.”
Garrett’s feet hit the floor and he surged upward. “What’s wrong? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Trust Garrett to immediately bristle. Sam might be the oldest, but Garrett was an overprotective bear when it came to family. He’d lose his mind when he learned about Rachel. Especially since he had been so close to her.
Ethan looked down at the thick envelope in his hand, doubt clouding his mind. This was insane. How could he convince his brothers when he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it? But if it was true . . . if there was even the slimmest chance she was alive, he had to move heaven and earth to find out. There simply wasn’t an alternative.
The knot in his stomach grew larger, and he finally thrust the envelope in Garrett’s direction. Sam shot up from the couch and took it before Garrett could. Donovan and Garrett crowded behind Sam to look over his shoulder as Sam started pulling stuff out.
“What the hell is all of this?” Sam demanded as he shuffled through the charts, maps and GPS coordinates. When he reached the photos of Rachel, Garrett’s and Donovan’s expressions froze. Sam’s frown grew fierce, and he stared back up at Ethan. “Where did you get this?”
“It was delivered yesterday along with a note telling me Rachel is alive.” Ethan pointed to the stack of papers and photos Sam held. “That was the proof.”
He marveled at how calm he sounded. How composed. As if hearing that the woman he’d thought dead was alive was a common occurrence.
Garrett cursed viciously, and Donovan . . . he looked at Ethan with sad, understanding eyes. Ethan hated that look. It was one beat off patting him on the head and recommending a good therapist.
Sam was still studying the photos, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“This looks like Rachel,” he said slowly, as if it pained him to say it, to admit that maybe Ethan wasn’t certifiable.
“It is Rachel,” Ethan said, impatience simmering through his veins. “Believe me, I’ve been through it all. I’ve been up the entire night going through all of this, telling myself this is some sick joke. But what if it isn’t? Can I afford to blow it off and pretend I never got this? My God, if she’s alive . . . if she’s been over in some hellhole for a year...”
He broke off, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control of himself. He curled and uncurled his fingers as the horror of that thought played over and over in his head. Rachel. Alive. Held prisoner and subjected to