Into the Mist (10 page)

She sank onto the couch and held her hands over her face. “I know. Damn it, I know.”

Mad Dog sat down beside her and for a long moment neither of them spoke. She turned to him, finally breaking the silence.

“I don't know what to do, Mad Dog,” she whispered. “I don't know how to help him, and it's killing me.”

Mad Dog touched her face. “You need some ice on that or it's going to swell.”

She sighed as he got up and walked over to the minibar to get some ice. Her head ached like a son of a bitch.

“Get me a drink too. Hell, and fire up one of your joints.”

Chapter Eight

“You're getting sloppy, Eli.”

Eli raised one eyebrow as he stared at Ian Thomas over his beer. “Sloppy? I think I might be insulted.”

Braden strolled in, a baseball cap shoved over his eyes, and sat down next to Ian. Concern flickered in Ian's eyes before he shifted his attention back to Eli.

“You didn't exactly cover your tracks very well. Registering your flight plan from Paris? Flying into frickin' Buenos Aires? Making enough noise to wake the dead? Shit, we'll have the damn U.S. government back on our asses. We're supposed to lay low, pretend to be dead or something, according to Uncle Sam.”

A smile curved Eli's lips. “My actions were purely intentional, I assure you.”

“That's what bugs me,” Braden muttered, speaking for the first time.

Eli stared at the two brothers and sighed. And then another thought occurred to him. “Where the fuck is Gabe? He was supposed to be keeping an eye on you two.”

“We don't need a goddamn babysitter,” Ian growled.

“Who needs Gabe when Ian fulfills those requirements perfectly?” Braden muttered.

Ian glanced sideways at Braden. “You're more unstable than I am, little brother. Someone has to look after your ass.”

Braden snorted. “I haven't shifted in three days. But gee, I happened to see a fucking jaguar skulking around the grounds yesterday. I wonder who that could be.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ian said.

“Both of you shut the fuck up and listen,” Eli interjected. “Not that I don't love listening to you two argue, but we have things to do.”

“Such as?” Ian asked.

“Preparing for a visitor.” Eli couldn't keep the grin from his face.

He had their full attention now.

Braden stared at him for a moment. “So the sloppiness was to lure someone here, I take it?”

Eli nodded.

“Who?” Ian demanded.

“Tyana Berezovsky.”

Braden frowned. “The name is familiar. Am I supposed to know who she is?”

Ian drummed his fingers on his knees then gave Eli a sharp look. “Damiano Ruiz's sister? Doesn't she belong to Falcon?”

Eli nodded. “Yep. And she's after me. She looked me up in Singapore. I returned the favor in Paris. She'll come after me next.”

“You seem so sure of that,” Braden said.

“Oh, she'll come,” Eli said softly. “And I plan to be ready for her.”

“What does she want?” Ian asked.

“That I don't know. But I intend to find out.”

 

 

 

Tyana settled into a cross-legged position and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to ease the wooziness brought on by too much to drink and a few too many joints.

The salty ocean breeze helped clear her head some as she focused her stare at a distant point on the horizon. She'd crawled down to her favorite getaway spot to do some hard thinking and plotting.

From the deck, she'd had to climb over the railing, drop down to the rock outcropping and shimmy around the face of the cliff. Several feet below, a boulder jutted out from the rock face. The flat surface offered an area large enough to sit on and enjoy the view of the ocean crashing below her.

It was her one seclusion away from everyone else. No one ever bothered her here, though she had no doubt Jonah knew of its location. He made it his business to know everything.

A deflated sigh escaped her. True, Jonah made her angry, but she couldn't bring herself to stay that way. He'd saved her and D, taken them from scraggly street kids to honed fighters. She'd always owe him for that, and for that reason, he had her loyalty. Loyalty that would be sorely tested by what she had to do.

After seeing what had happened to D earlier, she knew she couldn't wait to act. If there was any chance, no matter how slight, she had to seize it. He wouldn't last much longer.

Grief knotted her throat and pressed painfully against her chest. She couldn't lose D. She wouldn't. He'd been hers since she was a child. Her earliest memories were of the orphanage and of Damiano, an older boy, skinny, with big brown eyes and enough courage to sustain them both during their rough years at the institution.

He'd fought for her more times than she could count, and now, when he couldn't fight for himself, she would. Or die trying.

She stayed out long after the sun had slipped over the horizon. She watched as, one by one, the stars popped into the night sky. Instead of being soothed by the sounds of the waves below her, she grew tenser the longer she sat.

Plans rolled and formulated in her mind. Jonah presented a huge obstacle, but not an insurmountable one. Seeing Damiano in pain, writhing on the floor, had provided her all the motivation she needed. He was running out of time.

Finally content with the plan of action she'd formed, she uncurled her stiff limbs and stood. She dug her hands into the side of the cliff and prepared to climb back up to the deck.

A few minutes later, she hauled herself over the railing and fell with a thump.

“Climbing up and down a cliff is never a good idea after drinks and marijuana,” Jonah said dryly.

She stood, brushing herself off as she looked over to see Jonah sitting in the dark. When he continued to stare at her, she let her shoulders sag and braced herself for a lecture.

When he didn't say anything further, she leaned against the railing and propped her weight on her hands.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you.”

She stiffened again.

“I know you're angry with me, Ty. In your shoes, I would be too.”

She stared uneasily at him. The only thing worse than a brooding, pissed-off Jonah, was dealing with a Jonah she wasn't used to. An understanding,
nice
Jonah.

“I would have done the same thing you did,” he said quietly.

She went completely still.

“I'm not condoning what you did, but I understand why. Even though I can't allow you to continue this crusade to help D.”

A frustrated sigh spilled from her lips.

“If this was a mission, if it was anything else, I'd place my confidence and my trust in you. You've never let me down. You're damn good. Our team relies on you.”

Even as her cheeks tightened with pleasure from his rare praise, disappointment settled heavy in her stomach. “Why don't you trust me now?”

He sighed. “It's not a matter of trust, Ty.” He stood and covered the short distance between them. He stood just inches from her and looked down. In the pale moonlight, she could see tension and fatigue etched into his hard features. “You, Mad Dog and D are the only family I have. The only people I care about. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Her fingers curled into tight balls against the coarse wood railing. “But D needs help. By not allowing me off the island, you're hurting him.”

Jonah shook his head. “I won't trade you for D.” His words echoed Mad Dog's statement of a few days ago. “We'll find a way to help him that doesn't involve you chasing after Eli Chance or his team of shifters.”

He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “Do you understand that, Ty? Do you honestly think any of us could be happy that Damiano was saved at your expense? It doesn't work like that, and if you think it does, then you don't know us very well.”

Shame crept up her spine. Tentatively she circled Jonah's waist with her arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. He hesitated for a moment then slid his hands from her shoulders and hugged her tightly against him.

After a few seconds, she shifted uncomfortably and pulled away. He stepped back and shoved a hand to the back of his neck. It was more up close and personal than either of them felt comfortable with. She chuckled softly. Boneheads, the both of them.

“Thanks, Jonah,” she said.

He reached out and ruffled her hair. “Get some rest, okay? You look like hell.”

“Gee thanks.”

She watched him walk back inside and expelled a pent-up breath when he closed the sliding doors behind him. It was as if he'd read her goddamn mind and knew exactly what to say to make her feel about six inches high.

For a brief moment, she contemplated chucking her carefully thought-out plan, but the image of Damiano writhing on the floor, in so much pain, shut the door on any guilt she felt.

Jonah's anger, his disapproval, she could face. She couldn't face herself if she let Damiano down. Jonah might well toss her out on her ass once this was all over with, and she wouldn't blame him. No one in FMG crossed him. What he said went. But as long as Damiano got what he needed to survive, she was okay with the fallout over her actions.

Chapter Nine

It wasn't easy to pick a time when either Mad Dog or Jonah wasn't skulking about. Tyana sometimes wondered if they slept at all.

She picked an hour before dawn, typically when Mad Dog had just gone to sleep and Jonah was holed up in his office doing what he did best. Brood.

She put on a muscle shirt, a pair of shorts and her running shoes then walked out of her room, prepared with a story that she couldn't sleep and was going on a run. Something that, as it happened, occurred frequently.

First she'd swing by and check on D.

When she found two guards posted outside his door, she frowned. When she tried to move past them and open the door, they moved to block her.

“Sorry, Jonah's orders. No one goes in without his say so.”

Anger exploded within her. She wanted to kick their asses and then go tear a strip off Jonah's hide, but she had to remember her objective.

She glared at them both before she stalked down the hall to the stairs. When she was stopped by another of Jonah's security team, she let out a hiss of impatience.

“I'm going running. Or is that allowed?”

“Let her go,” Jonah called from his office door where he stood watching Tyana.

She turned her resentful stare at him and had to make herself forget about the fact he'd barred her from Damiano's room. Otherwise they'd be in each other's faces again, and she wouldn't get anything accomplished.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked calmly down the stairs and headed for the French doors leading to the back patio. She stepped outside into the cool morning air and jogged down the path that led to the beach.

She knew despite Jonah's acquiescence that she was being closely watched. She'd have to be fast.

As she rounded the northwest corner of the island, she slipped between two large rock outcroppings, inaccessible when the tide rolled in. She dropped to one knee to fiddle with her shoelace and carefully looked around to see how visible she'd be from the house or other lookout points.

Feeling that she was as obscure as she was going to get while on the island, she reached into her shorts, slid the earpiece into her ear and palmed the tiny receiver, bringing it to her mouth in a casual gesture.

“Tits, you there?”

There was a long moment as she waited for a response.

“Tyana, my girl. What brings you knocking?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “How much would it be worth to you to annoy the piss out of Jonah?”

Tits chuckled. “For that pleasure? Consider whatever it is you need on the house.”

“I need a boat on the east side of the lesser island. Tonight. Oh two hundred. Arrange for a helicopter exchange five miles out. I need cash, a fake passport and the first flight you can get me on to Paris.”

“You got it.” There was a slight pause. “You can catch me up on the whys and wherefores later.”

“Will do,” she said before removing the earpiece and tucking it back into her shorts.

She set back out on her run, and just to make it look good, she circled the island twice before she headed back up to the house.

When she walked in, she saw Mad Dog standing at the breakfast bar, rummaging through the M&M bowl.

“You better not be eating my orange ones,” she grumbled as she walked over. “I saved the green ones for you.”

“And I appreciate it,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate as he turned in her direction. “All oranges are accounted for, see?” He pointed at the bowl that now only housed the brown and orange M&Ms.

She reached for a handful and plopped on a barstool to stare at him. “Don't you ever sleep? I could swear you just went to bed.”

He grunted in response and dug back in the bowl, looking for another green one. He gave a disgruntled sigh and snagged a brown one instead. “I got an hour. That'll do for now. What about you? What's got your panties in a knot this morning?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Can't I go for a run without you and Jonah on my ass?”

His eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked her over suspiciously. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“I'm pissed because I tried to go see D and got blocked by two of Jonah's henchmen.”

“Ahh.” Mad Dog turned back to the M&M bowl and fingered one of the orange ones.

She shot him a quelling glare, and he picked a brown one instead. “Ahh? Is that all you can say? This sucks, Mad Dog, and you damn well know it. Locking him up like a fucking animal? Forbidding me to see D like I'm some kind of goddamn child he has to babysit?”

Mad Dog stared pointedly at her.