Engaging his Enemy (Shattered SEALs #4) - Amy Gamet Page 0,42

to reach Zach, let him know she was in trouble. She woke her cell phone again but still didn’t have a signal.

“You’re not going to get any bars back there. The signal’s blocked. You may as well just sit back and enjoy the ride. If this doesn’t go well tonight, it could be your last one ever.”

24

Ben was in and out of consciousness, his blood staining the cold cement floor. His message to Zach had been intercepted by one of DeRegina’s goons who’d been keeping a watchful eye on the room, Ben’s real estate charade far too transparent to stand up to scrutiny, especially given Zach’s reference to a dock.

One of his two tormentors kicked him in the groin, and he doubled over with renewed awareness of his pain.

“Who did you call? Who’s coming here tonight?” the man demanded.

Ben grinned from the side of his mouth that wasn’t too swollen to move. “More trouble than you’ll know what to do with.” He spit out a mouthful of blood, just as a boot made contact with his back.

The second man sounded squirrely. “They should have just fucking called it off.”

“They can’t, you stupid idiot,” said the first guy. “The ship’s running out of fuel. They’ve been at sea too long.”

Ben heard someone step near his face, then they pulled his hair, lifting his head clean off the concrete. He winced and hollered in pain.

“You fucking tell me right now, you goddamn sack of shit. Who’s coming to the port tonight?”

Ben forced his swollen eyes open, the man’s fat face and stubble-covered jaw coming into view. “Never.”

The man launched Ben’s head toward the floor, his cheekbone seeming to explode out of his skull. This was how he was going to die. In a freezing-cold warehouse meant to house tons of illegal drugs. He’d helped their organization reach its goals, helped them find this property, secured it for them. He’d even laundered their money. If he had to die, at least he could do so taking down the very structure he had helped to create.

His mind drifted away, a veil coming down over his senses in a blessed wave of relief. But a distant voice had him fighting away the fog that offered some semblance of peace.

Davina.

He’d know her voice anywhere, and hearing it echoing through this place caused him to panic like little else could. He tried to open his eyes, a small slit his only vantage point as he watched the men dragging her between them, flailing as she screamed.

“Shut up!” yelled the squirrely one, punching her in the face, and she was silent the rest of the way as they brought her to Ben.

“I’m sorry,” Ben mumbled through his swollen lips and mouth, wanting to weep as he watched them bind her wrists and ankles. At least they hadn’t beaten the will to run out of her system, as they had for him. “I’m so sorry.”

A sudden kick to his lower back had him writhing once more, and Davina screamed, “Don’t hurt him!”

“How about you tell me now?” said the big guy. “Or do you want me to see if I can get it out of this one?”

“No!” A wave of nausea went through him and he vomited what little he had left in his stomach after the last time he puked. He cried, the small wail unrecognizable to his own ears. “HERO Force. A company called HERO Force.”

The men retreated. The gauze that had offered him oblivion just moments earlier now refused to come down, the acute pain in every part of his body fully recognized by his brain. “Is Wyatt okay?” he whispered.

“Yes. He was at a friend’s house when they came. Why did they bring us here?”

He wished he didn’t know, but he understood it all too well. “Hostages. The ship’s coming into port tonight and HERO Force is going to try to stop them. We’re their insurance policy.”

“Let’s just hope we get to go home when this is all over.”

He was feeling drunk, whether from his body’s natural painkillers or his altered consciousness, he didn’t know. It was a nice feeling, and it occurred to him he might be bleeding out on the floor. “I’m going to take Laney to the movies.”

“Yeah?”

“Some chick flick she’d really like. I’d do that for her. Watch a chick flick.” He could feel the veil settling over him again and welcomed its protection. “Maybe some flowers,” he mumbled, sinking into sleep.

25

Moto and Razorback were dressed in black tactical gear, with