Page 27 of Tactical Lies

Just like targeting Susanna to hurt Cole hadn't worked.

He and his family would do anything to protect Becca and make sure she wasn't hurt again but they wouldn't give up.

If anything, this was more fuel added to the fire.

Becca stayed close to his back as they slipped through the night. The fire that was still burning brightly when he’d been out there fighting against the men had mostly burned itself out. While there were still a few men passed out drunk around it, most seemed to have taken themselves off to their tents and put themselves to bed.

As much as he wanted to kill every single man there because all of them would have participated in torturing Becca, he couldn’t do that. It was too great a risk, and in the end, keeping Becca safe and alive mattered more to him than empty revenge.

Empty because when it came down to it,hewas the one who had hurt Becca the worst.

Too bad he couldn’t kill himself and offer his own heart on a platter as an offering and proof of how deeply he regretted his actions that fateful day twelve years ago.

They made it past two tents before he saw a man stumbling about. Using the weapon he clutched in his hand was a last resort, the noise would wake everyone, even those who had passed out drunk, and put Becca in greater danger.

“Stay here,” he whispered to Becca, then sprung at the man.

Just before he reached him, the other man noticed his approach and reached for his weapon.

Thankfully, years of training meant Connor knew how to be both quick and efficient and the man was dead and dropping to the ground before he had a chance to grab his weapon or alert his friends.

Without pausing, he had taken the man’s weapons—a handgun and a knife—and was back at Becca’s side, urging her on. There was no time to worry about how watching him kill man after man was going to affect how she saw him, make her think he was more monster than human, to see how different he was from the boy she had once known, because they had to keep moving.

Whatever it took.

Even if that was killing hundreds of men and shattering her perception of him.

Becca would always come first. Never again would he make the mistake of allowing anything to sneak in ahead of her, not even his own fears and emotions.

They made it another two tents over when he heard voices. At least three. Too many to kill without one of them alerting the entire camp.

“Stay here,” he whispered to Becca, gently pushing her behind the closest tent and down onto the ground. “Use this first, gun second,” he added as he pushed the handle of the knife he’d just procured into her trembling hand.

“Where are you going?”

“To separate them. I’ll be right back,” he promised.

A small smile quirked up one side of her mouth. “You broke the rules.”

“The rules?”

“Horror movie rules. You never say I’ll be right back,” she explained, and he almost choked on a laugh in his attempt not to make a sound.

Even though Becca had always had such a big and loving heart, so caring and compassionate to everyone who entered her orbit, she was a horror movie junkie, and they’d spent many hours watching them together when they were a couple. She could handle more blood and gore than he’d been able to as a kid, and she loved to tease him about it.

“I live to break the rules,” he told her with a grin, so proud of his Becca—and there would never be a time when he didn't think of her as his—for being able to hold it together as well as she had.

“No you don’t, you were always a goody-two-shoes,” she teased.

There was a smile on his face as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head and then circled the tent toward where he’d heard the voices. He’d missed her so much. More as each year passed by. How had he managed to wait this long before tracking her down? Guilt and shame weren't good enough excuses. This is what he should have done in the beginning.

He hadn't fought for his girl like he should have. Like she deserved.

Now it might be too late.

When he peered around the tent, he could make out the three figures he’d heard. Two of them appeared to be engaged in a secret make-out session, and the third looked like he was playing lookout.

Bending down, his hands ran over the ground, stopping when they touched a stick large enough to make a sound when he threw it. Picking it up, he pulled his arm back and hurled it with all his might out into the surrounding jungle.

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