Engaging his Enemy (Shattered SEALs #4) - Amy Gamet Page 0,32

in the drums!”

Terror shot through Razorback with lightning speed. “No!” he screamed to the agents opening the shipping container, but he was too far away to be heard. Only Trace turned around to face him, hearing Razorback’s scream through the comm set in his ear, but it was too late. The shipping container door opened, an explosive blast of light and smoke throwing Trace and the agents in the air before they dropped to the ground.

Razorback heard himself screaming Trace’s name. He was running as fast as he could toward the chaos, eating up the distance between him and his friend. DeRegina and his men stood on the side, seemingly unconcerned with the carnage in front of them. It was a trick, a deliberate attack on those who would attack them, and Razorback wanted them dead as surely as he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

He reached Trace, skidding to a stop on his knees, the heat from the engulfed container instantly burning his skin and bringing back memories of the injuries he’d sustained in the line of duty. Trace’s eyes were open but clearly confused, blood seeping from his neck where a piece of shrapnel was embedded in his skin. “You okay, man?”

Before Trace could respond, someone nearby yelled, “It’s going to blow!” Razorback grabbed his friend below the arms and dragged him safely away. Three more agents lay on the ground, one other man working to pull them to safety. Razorback ran back and dragged an unconscious woman close to Trace.

Again he ran back, making eye contact with the DEA agent who did the same, just as a second explosion rocked the shipping container and Razorback’s whole world went dark.

17

“They fucking knew.” Moto paced the hallway of the medical center and squeezed fistfuls of his hair, stopping in front of Razorback. “They fucking knew we were coming, and they went after our goddamn men.”

Trace had a nasty concussion and a few gashes, but he was going to be fine. Razorback needed twenty-seven stitches in his already-scarred face, had some second-degree burns, and had blacked out when he was thrown. The DEA agents hadn’t fared as well, losing the agent on the ground Razorback had been trying to get to, and the other attempted rescuer was in surgery—likely losing his arm. There were only minor burn injuries at the warehouse.

But something else was bothering Moto, something he could barely even name. He’d been safely stationed at a computer far away from the explosion, but the blast had rocked his foundation to the very core of his being. DeRegina had gone to great lengths to fight back against an attack—because he knew damn well one was coming.

Razorback eyed him critically. “You heard from your brother?”

“No.” No one had seen or heard from Ben since he left for the real estate closing that morning. It was a blatant sign of trouble, the biggest clue as to what really happened at the port. DeRegina had known what was coming because Ben had told him.

Moto dropped onto a chair, his head throbbing as he worked to accept the unthinkable. “He was working with him all along.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“That agent is dead. Her family is suffering right now because of what my brother did.” He stood and kicked the tile wall, the vibration shooting up his leg. He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to release this rage that threatened to destroy everything that mattered. “Idiot motherfucker. He couldn’t walk away from the money. That was what this was about. He wanted to be successful, even if that meant working for the scum of the earth. Doing what no one in their right fucking mind would ever willingly do. Poisoning our kids. That’s my brother for you.”

Razorback dropped into the chair a few down from the one Moto had just vacated, the wound on his face scraping Moto’s insides raw. Moto had put that there by calling HERO Force in to help his good-for-nothing brother. He’d seared the burns into his friend’s skin. “It’s my fault. I never should have asked you to help.”

For a moment, Razorback didn’t respond. Then his dark eyes turned to Moto. “Bullshit. Save it for your therapist. You were doing what you thought was right. No one can do better than that.”

“He lied to us. He betrayed us. He let us be attacked.”

“Did you know that was going to happen?”

“Of course not.”

“Then quit blaming yourself for your brother’s bad decisions. It’s out of your control.”

Out