Authors: Stephanie Tyler

Tags: #Military Romance

Surrender (27 page)

She closed her eyes and thought about Reid, what he’d do in a situation like this.

He’d fight, any way he had to. He’d always been dangerous. When she’d told him she thought he was one of the good guys, he’d told her she was wrong.

Wrong or not, she wished he was here to help her, but she’d used up all her get-out-of-jail-free cards with him.

She shouldn’t be using this time to think about regrets, shouldn’t be seeing her life flash before her eyes. That meant she was giving up and she couldn’t do that yet. “I never thought women would be such a big draw. But some of their fights actually outperform the men’s for money.”

She committed the face to memory. This wasn’t the man on trial for illegal cage fighting. And this operation was bigger than any one conviction could touch. It had sprawled, spawned leagues and the like.

“Where’s Benji?”

He smiled. “Right back where he wanted to be. Fighting.”

“I want to see him.”

“You’re not in a position to give orders, Grier. You’re just another fighter, struggling up the ranks.”

“I hope there’s a direct-deposit option for my checks,” she deadpanned.

“We’ll see if you still have your sense of humor after tomorrow night.”

Chapter Two

G
rier
’s number. On his phone. For the first time in a goddamned year.

She hadn’t shown at Mace’s wedding, even after Kell had invited her behind Reid’s back. Reid could understand why, probably better than any of the others. Grier didn’t mind being vulnerable, telling him about her past, her reasons for becoming a marshal, but she couldn’t shake off her sense of right and wrong. She was black and white, with no gray . . . and he definitely lived the majority of his life there.

She knew she’d wounded him by pretending to die. Good reason, of course, but he could’ve been let in on the plan. Should have been.

Dammit. Grier might not mind the vulnerable shit but Reid sure as hell did.

Now he sat with the phone next to him, Grier’s message unplayed.

But a year and six days . . .
why now, Grier?

He stared down at the screen stupidly, ready to press the voice mail button.

He took a deep breath and hit redial instead. When a man answered, he clutched the phone so hard he was sure he’d broken it.

“Reid, is that you?”

“Jack?”

“Didn’t you listen to my message?”

“Obviously not.”

“Shit. Sorry, man . . . I didn’t think—grabbed her phone and figured you’d know it was important.” Jack was Grier’s partner.

“Figured this was faster. Fill me in.” And fuck, this wasn’t good.

“She’s gone. It hasn’t hit the papers yet, but it will within the next few hours and then all hell’s going to break loose. I need your help.”

Reid shoved a hand in his pocket, the other kept the phone to his ear. He was convalescing at Mace’s bar—Doc’s orders after an unfortunate incident on his last job with Dylan.

Thankfully, the human traffickers had been hurt far worse than either he or Dylan had been. The girls they’d rescued were now recovering with their respective parents.

He and Jack had kept in touch over the year. Rather, Jack kept in touch with him. Reid wasn’t sure if Grier put him up to it or if he did it on his own. He’d also given Reid a few tips on some recent cases and leads to others that the law couldn’t get involved with. Even Dylan had to grudgingly admit that the guy was good.

“Is this another near-death experience?”

“No, man, I’d know. She and I were charged with a witness. A few months of babysitting. She was getting him settled and now they’re both gone. The room’s trashed and there’s blood on the carpet near her phone. This is some bad shit, Reid. The FBI and the marshals are on it, but . . .”

Yeah, he got it. They could get places those agencies couldn’t. “How long?”

“I’m assuming five hours, give or take. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t gotten to the motel where she was staying earlier than expected.”

“Where are you now?”

“Heading back to my apartment. You gotta meet me.”

“I’ll be there tonight,” he promised.

Time was critical. He packed—flying commercial with weapons wouldn’t work, so he planned to buy some in Texas. Dylan wouldn’t let him out if he didn’t leave before anyone noticed him. He heaved the bag over his shoulder, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs and punched in flight times on his phone. He’d beg or bribe his way onto the next flight out.

“Where are you going?”

Teddie. He turned around slowly, found her leaning against his doorjamb with her arms crossed. Obviously, she was his babysitter today. As if he needed one. Most of the time. “Ah, just taking a ride downtown?” he offered.

“Try again.”

Geez, the women were worse than the men in this group. He had no choice but to come clean. “It’s Grier.”

“She called?”

“Not exactly.” When he finished telling her, Teddie was handing him cash, telling him she’d give him as much lead time as possible.

“Bring her back, Reid.”

“I will.”

“You love her, you know.”

He opened his mouth to say that you couldn’t fall in love that easily, but he’d had half of a living, breathing example in front of him. “Thanks for the help.”

Three hours later, he was seated on a direct flight to Houston. He’d neither had to beg or bribe, but flirt a little and even though his heart wasn’t in it at all, for Grier, he did what he needed to. And got bumped up to first class to boot.

Now he tried to focus himself, to stay calm. He didn’t like plane rides under the best of circumstances. Most of the time he was riding in one, he was on his way to fix something, save someone, and the need to be there immediately, if not faster, made him slightly claustrophobic. Driving was his preferred method but that wouldn’t get him to Texas quickly enough.

She’s all right. She’s tough. She can take care of herself.

And he had no real idea what she was up against. Jack didn’t want to talk in case his line was tapped. Which meant Grier was in bigger trouble than just being kidnapped. If that were possible.

His phone continued to buzz incessantly. Dylan, again. He stared at the screen, thinking about picking up this time when the flight attendant told him, “Sir, you’ll have to turn that off,” and offered him a cookie.

“Gladly.” He shut it down, took the cookie and looked around, waiting for Dylan or Kell or any of them to storm the plane. They weren’t above that, he knew. He wouldn’t be, anyway.

Finally, after twenty tense minutes, they were wheels up and Reid found himself unable to sit still. He ended up pacing through coach and sitting next to the air marshal on board, which was an odd coincidence since there was only one on one out of every twenty flights. The guy was a retired Marine, said the gig was good money.

“And boring as shit,” Reid added.

“Yeah, but hell, it’s necessary.” The man stared at him. “You hate flying.”

“It shows, huh?” He stared out the window past the guy and wondered if DB Cooper had just been claustrophobic.

“You’re going to see a girlfriend.”

“That obvious?”

“Yeah.” The Marine handed him a mini-bottle of scotch. “You’ll need fortification.”

Reid opened it and said,
“Semper Fi,”
before draining it in a single gulp.