Brawler didn’t even realize his temper had snapped until his boot connected with the guy’s chest, driving him onto his back. The chair screeched across the floor, tipping with a loud bang.
“Get him out of here,” Tex barked, fury flashing in his eyes as Emma picked up the radio, pausing as she watched Easy haul the prisoner up, shoving him toward two Marines who had come running at Brawler’s earlier shout. They seized the prisoner in a vice-like grip, dragging him from the room.
Emma muttered another curse and pressed the radio closer to her mouth. “Lechuza,” she repeated, voice taut. “Come in. Where are you?”
Brawler watched her, blood pounding with an urgency that made Beast whine in agitation. Dagger, Flash, Quinn, their enemies had them. Brawler vowed it silently, his hand resting on Beast’s head, the dog’s tension mirroring his own.
Langfordwasdone.
Quinn’s wristsburned where they’d been bound, and her lips still felt raw from the tape. The men yanked her out of one SUV at some cramped, dimly lit transfer point, hooking up withmore of Langford’s men. Her heart hammered, a disbelieving rage building in her chest. She could barely process how quickly things had spiraled.
Then she saw Dagger.
She’d frantically tried to look behind her, but Langford kept shoving her forward. Shock spiked through her, white hot. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought he might be dead.No, please, no…
One of Langford’s goons tried to hold her back, but she wrestled free with surprising strength. She dove forward, catching Dagger, sliding to the dirt with him, cradling his head protectively against her. He was unconscious, but his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Anger, blistering, primal, pounded in Quinn’s veins, but his skin was warm, and he felt so good against her.
“Touching,” Langford mocked, standing over them. The dim glow from a single floodlight in the deserted lot played across his face, highlighting his sneer. “Very heroic, Quinn.”
“Fuck you, David,” she spat, voice shaking. “You piece of shit. You were contracted to protect me.”
“You tell him, Quinn,” Flash said with a scoffing laugh. The guy next to him elbowed him in the ribs.
Langford shrugged, his weapon resting easily at his side. “Herrera pays better.”
Flash, bruised and bound just as she was, was hauled out next. He staggered but stayed upright, glaring at Langford. “You goddamn traitor.”
Langford didn’t react to the insult. Instead, he motioned to one of his henchmen, who stepped forward and gripped Dagger’s collar, ready to drag him away. Quinn’s arms tightened instinctively around him, and she bit down on a startled cry as they wrenched him from her grasp.
Her vision blurred at the edges, maybe from tears, maybe from rage. Then Dagger stirred. He came awake with a jerk, snapping from unconsciousness into that lethal readiness she’d seen on so many missions. Even battered and half-helpless, he was dangerous. The tension in his lean body practically vibrated under the floodlight.
He lunged for the closest attacker, and a slide racked, a gun pointed directly at Quinn’s head. She went still, pulse pounding so loud it drowned out the hushed nighttime sounds. Dagger froze mid-struggle, swallowing a furious curse as he glanced between Quinn and the muzzle pressed to her temple.
Langford smirked. “A bullet through her brain ends her. Cooperate asshole.”
A murmur of voices from the men around them and the droning of nighttime insects were the only sounds. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat when Dagger slowly eased back, eyes never leaving her face. Despite his injuries, bruises blooming across his cheek, a cut on his brow leaking blood, his pale green gaze locked on hers, filled with a fierce promise.
We’re getting out of this.She could almost hear him say it. A wave of raw hope flooded through her.If anyone could fight for her freedom, it was Dagger and Flash.
“Sorry I got you into this,” Dagger said, voice low with regret, his eyes fixed on Flash.
Flash, forced to his knees by another gunman, grinned through blood-smeared lips. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere but at your back, buddy.”
Langford made a derisive noise, lip curling. “You SEALs…” he sneered. “All that bravado. In the end, you’re just meat for Herrera’s grinder, and I’m going to make sure of it.”
He stepped closer, the barrel of his weapon pressing hard against Quinn’s temple. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, but she felt Dagger tense like a coiled spring.
Langford’s voice dropped, thick with malice. “I heard everything. That little bug I planted picked up more than intel. It picked up all your pathetic secrets. Teammates weeping over fatherhood and your women. All that sentimental crap.”
Quinn’s heart stuttered.
Langford smiled, cold and hateful. “When we get to Herrera, she goes first.” He shoved her forward, hard. Pain flared in her shoulder, but she bit it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“Then we’re going to take out every single one of them. One by one. I’ll use them, kill them, and film every last second for Herrera. He likes to watch, you know.”
Flash snarled, fury cutting through the blood on his face. “Fucker,” he snapped, lunging forward, only to be dragged down by two guards gripping his arms.
Langford laughed, his voice dripping with mockery. “I’ll wipe every one of teammates and your women, all your brotherhood crap, from the map.” He laughed again. “All for one… one for all, right? What a beautiful little tragedy.”