Bound for Keeps (Men of Honor) (22 page)

“I’m going to call Prophet.”

“I’m going to have Guthrie take me,” Shane told him.

Keith looked like he wanted to stop him, but finally, he relented. Slipped a GPS tracker onto the button of Shane’s coat. Stared at him. “You do whatever you need to survive. Prophet and I will be tracking you every step of the way.”

“I can handle this. He should never have involved Reed. This was personal.”

“Still is.” Keith stared at the phone in his hand and told Prophet, “He’s got Reed. Here’s the plan.”

And then Keith got back on the ATV and took off back down to the cabin, circling around the front. Shane watched him get to the cabin and go inside.

Keith was safe. Reed wasn’t. It had been over an hour since he’d last seen the man—they’d searched for him unsuccessfully before coming to the inevitable conclusion that Guthrie had planned well and they’d need to use a difference tactic. An hour would’ve given Guthrie enough time to hide Reed and come back. He had no phone for Guthrie to contact him. This was the only way.

Shane stood there in the freezing cold as night fell. Heard branches breaking from the ice and cold, saw his breath in front of him, the only thing he could see. An hour passed. And finally, the hair on the back of his neck rose.

He could sense Guthrie, had always been able to. One of the few perks of having worked closely with the man for a few years.

“Take me instead, you fucking bastard,” Shane said quietly. His wishes were granted when a dart slammed into his shoulder and he fell to the ground as the drug entered his system in seconds.

He woke, bleary eyed, stomach churning, with a hand cuffed to a long chain attached to a wall. Just like it happened with Kyle, except this time, there was no screaming to be heard.

Shane didn’t know if that was better or worse. “Guthrie, you coward! Come fight me!”

His voice echoed.

“Reed, if you’re there…you’re going to be fine,” he told him. And then a screen above him displayed a picture. A box, with a vent on top, and Shane bent over and vomited, because he knew what Guthrie had done.

“Fucking bastard. Reed, if you can hear me, just keep breathing. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

If he’d kept track of the hours correctly, they were just entering day three, which meant that Guthrie found and discarded the GPS tracker Shane had on him and left it behind. Otherwise, Keith would be here already, wherever here was. It was around midnight, and the half-open window and lack of heat had Shane shivering and drowsy, especially because he’d been stripped down to his boxer briefs.

At some point, he’d clawed at the cuff, because the scarred skin was ripped open and bloody, but he didn’t care. Had to get the fuck out of here. Had to stop falling asleep.

“Guthrie!” he yelled. Was answered by an echo of his own voice and silence. He screamed the name, over and over, until his voice was just a rasp. And then he coughed up a lung, which hurt his throat more.

“Reed, I’m okay,” he managed, hoping that Reed was close and would hear him and understand. He leaned his head back as a shiver went through him, and he was dangerously drowsy again.

Something’s gotta give.
But would it be him?

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he blinked, because he swore he saw a glint coming in from the window above him. A skeleton key that would open his cuffs landed at his feet. He looked up, saw nothing, but knew exactly who was out there.

He also knew what was expected of him. Especially when a knife dropped down as well, still sheathed. Bobby’s KA-BAR, with his name and rank inscribed along the side of it. It was heavy. Sharp. Dangerous.

This time, he would fight. And he would win. There was too much at stake not to. And as the cuff popped up, Shane stretched his body to get the sleep out of it, bounced on the balls of his feet to get his blood pumping and his head on straight. He looked at the box that was still the picture on the screen above him and whispered, “Coming for you, baby. Coming right fucking now.”

And he was. He used the key to open his cell door, realized they were in some kind of basement, and based on the cold, still very much in upstate New York. He stilled in the hallway, realized that Guthrie had to have video of him, and moving forward without waiting for the confrontation could be deadly.

The knife was inside the waistband of his boxer briefs, not easily seen but would be easily pulled. He wanted Guthrie to think he was barehanded, but he had no idea if he’d seen the objects drop from the window.

He waited, his stance tight, his body warmer now that his blood was flowing pure revenge. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he’d learned it over the past months. Guthrie had been an inadvertently good teacher.

Finally, he heard the slight creak of footsteps on the stairs. He held his breath and forced himself to stay still, until the shadow fell across his path.

“Ah, Shane, do you really think you can win this?” Guthrie shook his head sadly. He carried a knife, but he closed it and slid it inside his pocket.

He doesn’t even think you’re worth a weapon.
“Come fight me,” he screamed, wanting Guthrie to think he was lost and over the edge.

Guthrie smiled. He was a perfect weapon, but Shane had something he didn’t. Shane had tucked the grief and revenge and hatred away. Now all he had was calm purpose. That was what he needed to get the edge.

It took everything he had not to lose it when Shane screamed. Because at that moment, Reed would’ve ripped his goddamned arms off to stop the man from calling trouble onto himself. He knew Keith would figure out where they were—Guthrie hadn’t taken them far at all. Reed would bet they were in one of the abandoned houses set for foreclosure. Most of the real estate agents and the banks didn’t even bother dealing with them until after first thaw.

Guthrie had had a couple of months to plan this.

His neck ached where the dart had hit. His head throbbed. But hell, he was more clearheaded than he’d been in his life.

He could move, but he didn’t. Because if Shane could save him, it might make up for more than he realized. So even though the claustrophobia threatened to drown him, he stayed as still as possible and let the man he’d grown to love fight for him, for Kyle, for all of them.

“How would he have known what Reed went through?” Keith demanded as he stared into the TV monitor in Shane’s cell. It was the window they could get closest too without setting off alarms. Prophet had disabled a wire or two in order to get them this far. “How does he get his intel?”

“That mission was classified.” Prophet’s eyes were stony, his demeanor way too calm, the way it always was whenever that particular mission was referenced.

Now, they waited, eyes on the fight and on Reed. Both men strained at the bit to go in and save Reed, but for Shane, they held off.

“If he fucks this up, I’ll kill him myself,” Prophet promised.

“He won’t.” Keith shifted between watching the box and watching Shane fight. He’d been right—Shane had been holding back during their sessions. Granted, he’d been recovering as well, but Keith would’ve recognized these moves instantly.

But Guthrie was no slouch, and this fight was well matched. Both men were staggering and more than a little bloody. To his credit, Shane had yet to use the knife. This was a knock-down, drag-out, bare-knuckles brawl. A fight to the death.

“We can’t let him kill Guthrie.”

“The fuck we can’t,” Prophet huffed. “Kill the bastard myself if I have to.”

“Just call your CIA contacts and let them know what’s happening.”

“Why?”

“Maybe Shane wants his old job back.”

Prophet shook his head as if to say
why would anyone be that stupid
, but he walked away and made a call. Keith remained rooted to the spot, ready to move if Shane needed him.

He was fighting for Kyle. For Reed. Most of all, he was fighting for himself—because he was whole again now, and no one would ever take that away from him.

Guthrie’s mouth was bleeding, but he still wore that grin, the one he’d always used when he was sparring. Shane would wipe it right off. He did a roundhouse kick that caught Guthrie behind his knee. Then, a hand to the back of the neck and he brought his knee up and heard the snap and the scream as he broke Guthrie’s nose.

Yeah, no more smiling now.

He backed up as Guthrie stumbled away. Before the man straightened, Shane ran for him, ramming his head into the man’s midsection, slamming him against the wall with a hard thud. As Guthrie began sliding down the wall, he grabbed the man’s hair and hit his head against the wall. Once, twice and Guthrie slumped into unconsciousness.

He yanked the knife out of its sheath and grabbed Guthrie by the hair on top of his head, exposing his neck. Killing him would be the eye for an eye, bring the greatest satisfaction, and for a long moment he almost didn’t stop himself.

He won’t suffer this way.
And that’s what stopped Shane. Instead, he put the knife down, opened the door for Keith, who came around the corner. Shane didn’t wait; instead he opened the door of the second locked cell-like room and went to the box.

He undid the heavy lock and opened it, saying, “Reed, it’s me. You’re okay. We’re safe—Keith is here.”

Reed was staring straight ahead. It had obviously taken all of his strength and concentration not to panic, and he hadn’t.

Shane could tell, because the skin on the man’s wrists was intact. Reed stared up at him. Blinked a few times. And then he smiled. “You did good, kid,” he managed, his voice hoarse, and then Shane was helping him up and out of the box.

“You did too,” Shane told him. “And fuck, I wish you hadn’t had to.”

“Stop. I feel like I got a second chance. A way to get rid of the nightmares. And I think you did too.”

“Because of Keith.”

“He’s never going to let us live this down.”

“And we’re lucky as hell for it.”

When they walked back out of the room, Reed’s arms around Shane’s neck, they found Prophet holding Keith’s knife and Guthrie dead on the floor. There was something in Prophet’s eyes that made Shane not say a word, just allowed the man to come on the other side of Reed and bring them outside into Keith’s waiting truck.

Epilogue

Six months later

Shane stretched as he stood in the middle of the jet, not yet awake.

“Par for the course,” Keith mumbled as he glanced up at him. Shane blinked a few times and looked around to get his bearings.

Right—the jet. Executive Enterprises, LTD. The mission.

Keith. Reed.

He pulled the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders and grinned.

“Yeah, he’s back,” Reed said with a chuckle.

“How’re your ribs?” Keith asked.

Shane frowned, moved the blanket and tried to look at his side that was bruised up from the recent mission, ended up turning around in a circle like a dog chasing his tail. “Shit, you did that on purpose.”

Keith and Reed were laughing too hard to say anything.

“That’s not fair to do to a wounded man,” he protested.

“I’m going to do a lot more unfair things to you when we get home. Both of you,” Keith announced.

“Not if I do them to both of you first,” Shane echoed.

“I told you, he’s a bad influence,” Keith said, but he looked anything but unhappy, especially when Reed nodded enthusiastically. “Now sit down and buckle up. Gary’s prepping to land.”

He’d just returned from his first mission with both men. The feeling possessing him now was heady. It had been a relief to be in the field again, to show off his confidence.

A relief to be able to come back to the cabin with both men and call it home.

The CIA had offered him his old job, which meant he’d be going back to undercover work. When he’d refused, they’d given him a great pension as a shut-up gift. Guthrie was dead,
because that’s how the CIA takes care of their own
, Prophet said darkly. And even though Shane knew Prophet was right, Shane couldn’t figure out if Prophet thought that was a good thing or not.

All Shane knew was that somehow, Kyle had a hand in leading him down the right path to where he belonged.

About the Author

SE Jakes writes m/m romance. She believes in happy endings and fighting for what you want. You can find out more about her and her books at
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Look for these titles by SE Jakes

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Men of Honor

Bound By Honor

Bound By Law

Ties That Bind

Bound By Danger

The danger that drew them together could send them over the edge…

Bound By Danger

© 2012 S.E. Jakes

Men of Honor, Book 4

Playing the role of enforcer in the Killers motorcycle club, all CIA operative Clint “Tomcat” Sommers has to do is make sure he has a body to show for his work. Thanks to his ability to move stealthily and easily between the two worlds, the CIA is damned close to making one of its biggest MC gang busts.

Two years undercover have taken their toll, but there’s no backing out now. Tomcat’s only reprieve from the pressure is fantasizing about the newest member of the gang.

Worry for his cousin’s involvement in the Killers drove Navy SEAL Jace Reynolds to agree to infiltrate the gang to do some short-term surveillance for the FBI. The deal: do the job, and his cousin gets witness protection. When he meets Tomcat, though, his fantasies kick into overdrive. Meeting men while on active duty is tough. Acting on his desires within the club could have deadly consequences.