Forged in Fire (9 page)

No. Way. In. Fucking. Hell.

“Jesus.” Rawls’ tone had distilled to complete and utter ice. “That fucker’s challenging you.”

“Obviously, the guy’s got a death wish.” Cosky’s voice was just as cold.

Some of the tension seething through Zane eased. That was team life for you. Your crew always had your back, no matter the war.

“You want me to break his legs? Someone needs to teach that bastard when a woman’s off-limits,” Rawls said in that ice-cold tone. “I figure you’ll want first crack at his arms.”

Oh, Zane wanted to break more than his arms. He’d start with the asshole’s neck.

“You might wait to tear him apart until the blue-suits are gone,” Cosky said.

That was Cos for you, always the tactician.

The security force swept in, several converging on Beth and Loverboy. One chubby guard bent and put two fingers against the neck of Beth’s attacker. The coarse cloth of his blue uniform strained across his distended belly, until it looked like the buttons were about to pop. He glanced up at his partner, his face beet-red, and shook his head. The news that Beth’s attacker was dead didn’t surprise him. From the angle of the head, and his complete stillness, it was obvious the hijacker wouldn’t be getting back up.

By now Zane was bearing down on the couple.

“I’ve got her,” he told his rival in a brusque voice, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Beth’s upper arm.

Beth’s rescuer just stared at him, raw challenge in the brown gaze behind the glasses. He continued running his palm up and down Beth’s silk-clad spine. Zane gritted his teeth and fought the impulse to snap that arm in half.

“And you are?” Loverboy lifted a sandy eyebrow, the skin of his receding hairline gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights.

“Her fiancé,” Zane snapped, crowding in.

He gentled both his grip and voice when he noticed the minute spasms raking her slender frame.

“You can let go.” When it didn’t look like jackass was going to take the hint, his voice hardened. “Now.”

For a moment it looked like the little prick was going to ignore the demand. Some latent instinct stirred beneath the red-hot jealousy as Zane held the challenging gaze. There was more to this guy than met the eye. Very few men could stare him down, but this one was giving it his damnedest.

Beth stirred. “Zane?”

She pulled away from Loverboy’s hold and tried to turn. Slowly, with obvious reluctance, those grasping hands released their grip and his arms fell away.

“I’m here.” Zane carefully folded her into his embrace. Worry rose as she came to him docilely. From her earlier stubbornness, this apathy wasn’t normal behavior. “Let me check you out.”

“I’m okay. My neck hurts. And my shoulder and my arm and my elbow really hurt.” Her voice gained strength. “And my neck hurts, but I already said that—didn’t I?”

She let Zane tilt her head back and winced at the hiss that shot out his mouth. “It probably looks worse than it is,” she said stoutly.

Considering the entire length of her neck was livid red, it looked pretty bad.

“Rawls?” Zane eased Beth to the side so Rawlings could get a look at her. “Rawls is ST7’s Corpsman.” He paused at Beth’s blank look. “Our medic. He’s as good as a doc, has four years of medical school behind him.” he told her, forcing gentleness into his voice.

“Any trouble breathing?” Rawls asked, probing along the length of her neck.

“No.” She flinched, visibly relaxing as Rawls’ hands dropped.

“Soft tissue damage. It’s gonna swell and look mighty colorful, but won’t leave any permanent damage,” Rawls reported. “How ‘bout I take a look at your elbow?”

“It’s fine.” She caught Zane’s lifted eyebrow and frowned. “He twisted my arm, so the elbow’s sore, but it’s not broken. I can move it—see?” She brought her arm up, albeit gingerly, and straightened it out.

“Good. That’s good. Why don’t ya let me take a look at it now?” Rawls asked, reaching for her extended arm.

She snorted her opinion of that request and shifted out of reach. “Because you’ll just poke and prod, making it hurt even worse and then tell me it’s
just
soft tissue damage.”

Zane grinned in relief at the asperity in her voice. She was getting stubborn again, which had to be a good sign. As gently as possible, he eased her back into his arms, feeling the tension inside him loosen as her soft body settled against his chest.

“Who’s going to tell me what happened here?” The security guard who asked the question was on the far side of middle-aged, his hair more gray than brown, with the cynical eyes of someone who’d seen action. And the competent air of someone used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question.

Just how much had this guy been told?

Zane went with the assumption he didn’t know enough. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Zane Winters, United States Navy.” He nodded toward Rawls and Cosky. “Lieutenants Seth Rawlings and Marcus Simcosky. We’ve been advised through Central Command that Flight 2077 has been compromised. When the suspects attempted to flee the terminal, we detained them.”

The security chief’s graying eyebrows lifted. “They still alive?”

“Alive, but in need of medical attention,” Zane responded blandly. “This gate needs to be sealed. Nobody in. Nobody out.”

With a slight nod, the security chief motioned several of his guards over and issued quick, flat orders. Instantly, his men spun and jogged to the mouth of the terminal, setting up sentry duty. Zane watched with approval. The guy ran a tight ship, which would make containment easier.

“And him? I take it he was one of your suspects too?” The security chief glanced at the motionless figure at their feet.

“Was?” Beth jolted in Zane’s arms and tried to look down. “He’s dead?”

Zane frowned, the injury shouldn’t have killed. A blow to the top of the head rarely proved fatal, particularly when the object used was a laptop case. He glanced down, studying the discarded computer. Of course, Beth’s rescuer had twisted the case so the corner had been the impact point, but even so….

“Yeah,” Zane slowly said. “He tried to grab Beth.”

“You killed him?” the security guy asked, not sounding like he cared. More like he wanted to get his facts straight.

“No.” Damn it. “I didn’t arrive in time.”

The security chief rocked back on his heels and planted his fists on his hips. “Then who—”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Loverboy stammered. “He had the woman by the throat. I just wanted to stun him, so he’d let her go.”

Zane frowned again, his instincts buzzing. Something about Beth’s rescuer prodded his bullshit sensor. The guy had challenged him. He wouldn’t get all stammery over some run-of-the-mill questioning. Besides, he’d twisted that case for maximum damage—something most civilians wouldn’t think to do.

“You’ll need to come with us.” The security officer motioned a couple of his guards forward.

“Of course.” With a final glance at Beth, Loverboy followed the two security escorts down the corridor.

Still frowning, Zane watched them go.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank him.” Beth shifted in Zane’s arms and turned to face their questioner. “I hope he won’t get into trouble. He saved my life.” She touched her throat and flinched. “I couldn’t breathe.”

The security guy shrugged. “That’s for the feds to decide. But I doubt he’ll be charged with anything.” He shifted his attention to Zane. “How about you show me where the rest of these suspects are?”

Zane indicated Rawls with a jerk of his head. “Lieutenant Rawlings will take you to them,” he said absently, his gaze tracking Loverboy’s thin frame as it ambled down the hall. He nodded at the admonishment to stick around for debriefing, but his gaze never left his rival’s frame as it disappeared down the corridor.

Cosky waited until the guards had wandered off before easing closer. “What’s up?” he asked quietly, following Zane’s gaze to Loverboy’s disappearing figure.

“There’s something off there,” Zane said just as softly.

Cosky glanced at Beth. “Was he in your dream?”

With a lift of her head, she frowned. “You mean, Russ? No. Why?”

“Russ?” Zane’s eyebrows snapped together. He ignored the dry glance Cosky shot him.

“Russ Branson, that’s his name.”

“And what else did Russ Branson tell you?” Try as he might, he couldn’t smooth the sharp edge from his voice.

“Well, he’s not one of the hijackers, if that’s what you’re implying.” Beth snapped back, her voice just as sharp. “He wasn’t in the dream. In fact, he’s on his way to Minnesota.”

“How the hell would you know that?”
Jesus Christ
! What the hell was wrong with him? Zane tried to back off, but she’d been entirely too comfortable in that bastard’s arms.

“Because he told me. Earlier. When I first got to the gate room.” Beth glowered back, pulling away from him.

“He could be lying.” Zane forced himself to let her go.

“Why would he lie? This was before I even talked to you. And in case you’ve forgotten,” her voice rose with each word, her purple eyes glowing with ire, “he saved my life.”

Yeah, like he was ever going to forget that.

“Let’s recap,” Cosky broke in placidly, ignoring the anger crackling between them. “He wasn’t in her dream. He approached her before she approached us. He’s booked on a different flight. And it’s likely he saved her life.” He paused, shook his head, something close to sympathy gleaming in his dark eyes. “Sorry, boss, looks like your instincts are off on this one.”

Zane swore and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. Hell, maybe Cosky was right. Maybe that instinctive buzz was caused by something more primal—the instinctive reaction of a male sensing a rival for his mate.

Because when it came right down to it, knowing Beth was his soul mate didn’t mean shit.

A life with her wasn’t something he could count on. The visions never flashed to warn of a soul mate’s danger, as proved by the fact he’d almost lost her already. Fuck—two of his four brothers had already lost their soul mates, which proved how useless the
knowing
could be. Two out of four were pretty shitty odds.

There was no promise that the woman you bonded with would want you back.

Or, Christ, even if she did, that she’d live long enough for something to develop.

Webb’s tight, raw face flashed through his mind. His empty eyes and silence since he’d lost Marie. Zane had thought he’d understood his brother’s pain. The depth of his loss.

But he hadn’t understood shit. Not until now. Until Beth.

Living without something you’d never experienced was a hell of a lot easier than living without something once you’d been given a taste.

* * *

Okay, so challenging the big bastard hadn’t been the smartest choice he’d ever made.

Russ matched his stride to his security details, aware that Zane Winters’ ice-green eyes still drilled into his spine. He could feel the suspicion in that sharp gaze, the realization there was more to Russ Branson than appeared on the surface.

He’d spent his career avoiding such suspicion. Inviting closer observation led to unmasking, which led to… well, nothing pleasant, that was for fucking sure.

He knew better, damn it.

He should have played it cooler. Handed the woman over quicker.

The reason behind the challenge had been solid. He’d needed to find out whether the woman actually meant something to Winters. Whether it would benefit him to keep her alive after they’d extracted the information they needed. It would be a shame to kill her if she could provide leverage over HQ1.

He bit back a sardonic laugh.

Yeah, that question had been answered. Winters was completely and utterly attached. And jealous as all fuck. There had been murder in those ice-green eyes when they’d locked on Beth Brown and found her in the arms of another man.

Absolute murder.

His reaction had been immediate. Instinctive. Something that couldn’t be faked. Not at such a visceral, violent level.

He’d been ready to rip Russ’s heart out and feed it to him one ventricle at a time.

And now, thanks to those few seconds of stupidity, Lieutenant Commander Zane Winters was suspicious of him. Which translated to HQ1 being suspicious of him.

Luckily, the airport security guards didn’t share Winters’ razor-sharp instincts. Russ idly considered taking the men out. There were only two of them. Police academy washouts. If he jumped them, he’d be out of the airport before anyone knew he’d escaped.

Of course such action would alert everyone to his involvement in the attempted hijacking.

Even with his FBI and DHS contacts, someone he didn’t control might get curious and uncover things best left buried, which would interfere with his acquisition of the required passengers.

So best to go with the flow. Keep an eye on Plan B from the airport. Besides, Chastain might find it difficult to acquire Beth Brown on his own. Winters wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. It might prove useful to have two people working in tandem to grab the woman.

His blue-suited escorts had shown him through a door marked
Airport Personnel Only
when his cell vibrated against his thigh. He fished it out and checked the window display.

The bosses.

Fuck.

If he didn’t pick up, they’d wonder why. The original plan hadn’t involved any direct action on his part, which had left him available for spur-of-the-moment updates. He couldn’t afford to have them start questioning his capabilities. He needed to touch base long enough to down play the change of venues, and assure them everything was still on track.

Russ glanced at the guards. They wouldn’t be able to hear the bosses’ side of the conversation, and he could couch his replies carefully enough so these two clowns wouldn’t pick up on what was actually being said. But if he waited much longer, he might find himself trapped in a room monitored by some kind of electronic listening device.

The guards glanced at him as he lifted the cell phone to his ear, but didn’t try to stop him.

“Hey,” he said, “I was just about to call and warn you. It looks like I’ll be arriving later than expected.”