Wolfsbane (37 page)

Canyon braced himself, gripping his knees as he bent over. But that made his face feel like it would fall off. Guilt.
Screwup
. Yeah, no surprise there. “I just—” He hadn’t felt this bad in … years. Oh man, he needed a pill. The thought crackled through his conscience. “I feel hammered.”

Wheels clanked against the floor as the doctor shifted. “You’re experiencing the aftereffects of a detox using the accelerated neuro-regulation, or ANR. You should be thankful, really. This provides the rate of highest success for opiate dependency.” Understanding lurked in the blue eyes of the physician. “You aren’t the first soldier addicted to painkillers. We have done in a matter of days what would’ve taken months—and a much lower success rate—in a traditional rehab detox program.”

“Detox?” If he was detoxed, why did he feel like he’d been used for a punching bag?

“It may have actually worked in your favor that you were drugged during your torture. Your body was more relaxed due to the analgesic effect of the hydrocodone.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea; it wasn’t a good thing. You’ve been strapped to that table, unconscious, while the doc here worked the drugs from your system,” Legend explained. “It’s been six long days.”

Canyon froze. “Six days?”

“Yes.” No backing down when it came to Max.

The doc rolled the stool toward the wall, then stood. “The first two you weren’t in a physical condition to endure the treatment, especially not with the drug they hit you with to drag you back here. Then four days for the detox therapy.”

Another scowl from Max. “But if I had it my way, you’d have gone through it the hard way, sweat it out for weeks. You deserve that.”

“It was our concern for the girl that made us choose this route.”

Like the mud that slid down the mountain and tossed him into a pit of chaos, Canyon saw the world collapse once again. The doc’s face
went pale. Cowboy came off the wall. Aladdin mumbled something. The Kid shifted nervously.

Max shot a dagger at the doc, who made a quick exit.

“What …?” Canyon took a step toward them. “What did he mean?” His head pounded with the rapid increase of his blood pressure. Anger gripped his chest. “I’ll ask one more time before this gets ugly,” he said low and slow, eyeing every man in the room. “Where is Roark?”

“Clear out.” Max motioned to the others. “Midas—”

“Is. She. Here?”

Undaunted, unfazed, Max stood there as the Kid, Squirt, and Aladdin filed out. The door shut. “No.”

“Where … she … you left her behind?” Everything in Canyon drained out like a massive hole in the hull of a tanker. Then refueled midair crumble. They left her. Unbelievable. He’d been drugged, dragged out unwillingly. They walked out.

Pivoting, he saw the concern etched into Cowboy’s face, the anticipation leeching through Max’s body language. Legend standing tall but the remorse was there, too.

They were braced for a fight. And by God, he’d give them one.

Canyon grabbed the pole on the floor and swung around. Max ducked. The metal clanged against the wall. Vibrations tremored up his arm. He spun and threw the pole. The line snapped tight and yanked the IV from his arm.

Blood squirted from where the needle came free. The spike of pain enlivened him.

“You left her! I promised her,
promised
.”

“We had no choice.”

Canyon launched himself at Max.

CHAPTER 23

C
rack!

Max stumbled back. Recovered. Instinct drove a hard right at Midas.
Stand down
. Man, he did not want to do this, fight his own guy. “Hey.” He shoved a hand out to hold off Canyon’s next punch.
“Hey!”

Fury glowed through Canyon’s eyes as he hauled back for another punch. From behind, Legend grabbed his fist, twisted his arm down, under and around. He shoved Canyon against the wall, pressing his face against the concrete. “Stand down or so help me …”

Ghosts had nothing on the tormented expression in Canyon’s pale face as he grunted against Legend’s firm grasp.
There’s more here than he’s telling us
. Then again, wasn’t that always the case with the former Green Beret? Yet if that were true, they had to give the guy some space.

“Leave him.”

At Max’s order, Legend eased back, a hand still clamped on Canyon’s wrist and one on his shoulder. Finally, the big guy released him.

Canyon flipped around, shoulders supporting him as he wobbled and let out a half groan/cry. “Roark was terrified.
Terrified
this would happen.” His face reddened. “She trusted us. Trusted me.”

Something streaked down his face. The storm, the fury that one of Max’s own had been doping, subsided when he realized those were tears trekking down his cheeks.

Canyon batted the tears—looked at his hand, then … slumped. Slowly his brow smoothed out, his eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened as if he’d remembered something. “Oh God … please, no.” He slid down the wall and cradled his head in his heads. And sobbed.

That noise grabbed Max’s chest in a fist hold. Unable to watch
Midas fall apart, Max strode from the room with the others. Something happened at the end of that confrontation. Something that made Canyon lose hope. Outside, he stopped short. The door closed behind him.

“What happened, at the end?” he asked over his shoulder to Cowboy and Legend.

“No idea, man.” Legend huffed.

“But it was
bad.”
Leaning against the wall, Cowboy shook his head. “I’ve
never
seen Midas rattled like that.”

“We have to go back,” the Kid came toward them. “Find the girl.”

Max snapped his attention to the Kid. “Not till we hear from the Old Man.”

The Kid balked. “That’s some kind of messed up. You saw him—”

With a sudden move toward the Kid, Max commanded the guy’s silence. “I know what I saw!” This was the old Max. The one that hit first, regretted later.

“This is bunk.” The Kid spun and stomped off. Halfway down the hall, he turned and walked backward. “No man left behind. We broke the code, ya know?” He pivoted and continued, the darkness swallowing him.

“He’s right.” Cowboy’s tone was somber, defeated. “I can’t live with this.”

“None of us can,” Legend added. “But we have no supplies, Squirt’s laid up in recovery, and we don’t have a way to get back down there.”

“Lambert is out of contact.” Max’s jaw muscle popped. “Even if we managed to get hold of the Old Man, it’s a no-fly zone right now. We’d get shot down.”

“Excuse me.” Straightening, Aladdin uncrossed his arms. He considered each of them for what felt like an eternity. “Not too long ago, you men hammered me with words about being a team, being there for each other.”

Legend seemed to grow several inches in height and around his chest.

“So, would someone like to explain to me why you’re all whining and complaining when a woman—granted, she’s not technically part of the team, but we were all responsible for her and one of our own is in love with her—is being left behind?” Aladdin met each man’s gaze. “Tell me, where’s this team spirit all of you crammed down my throat?”

Legend smoothed a hand over his bald head. “He’s right, and it pains me to admit that, know what I’m saying?”

Max sighed. “I’ll try the Old Man again.”

Naval Base, Cuba 15 May

Metal creaking pried open his eyes. The room, tilted on its side, glowed under the light of a single bulb. Canyon groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. Pain of the excruciating kind wormed through his limbs and gut. Head throbbing, he glanced around. Alone.

It should be his penance for the rest of his life because despite vehement promises, he’d left Roark. Where was she now? Had Bruzon returned to—?

Growling, Canyon flung his hand out and hit the leg of the bed. They’d held him here for days. To detox him! Wasted precious time—that could have,
should
have, been spent finding Roark—to address something that could wait a week. A month. Years. The rest of his life. Medicating helped him get through things.

Okay, so it wasn’t right. But he’d faced reality enough to know he didn’t want to again.

Tough. He had to face the fact that Roark would hate him forever.

She’d trusted him. Implicitly.

He’d failed her. Completely.

He would make it right, no matter what.

And he’d start right now. Escape this place, find a way back to the facility, get her out of there, and spend from here to eternity apologizing and making it up to her.

On his feet, he propped himself against the wall. Being vertical increased the throb in his skull. Good. Squinting past the pain, he looked at the door.
Get out. Get Roark. Get home
. Peeling himself off the wall, he gritted his teeth. Ten paces to the threshold. Canyon turned the knob. Maybe the other way would work. He tried. No-go.

He stood back and traced the frame. Locked? Why would they lock him in?

They knew I’d escape
.

Well, he wasn’t giving up. Not till he was dead. Roark needed him. And he wouldn’t let a locked door stop him. He turned around and spotted the window on the opposite wall. He grinned and stumbled over to it, his mind vowing the thing was probably welded shut.

Squeak!

The window pushed out.

Too easy
. After another glance at the door, he hauled himself up through the window. On the ledge, he hesitated. At least a ten-foot drop. He’d seen enough ACL and MCL injuries to know this could hurt. A lot. But if he stayed here, Roark stayed there.

With a grunt, he leapt from the window.

Canyon landed, feet together, knees bent, rolled out of it, and came up jogging. Though his body screamed for the bed he’d just left, his heart and mind screamed for Roark. How he’d get anywhere, he wasn’t sure. Unless he suddenly acquired chopper- or airplane-flying skills, he would have to take a pilot hostage. Not cool.

Still, he aimed for the row of hangars at the far end of the base. Halfway across, sweat poured down his back. His legs slurred—wait, could they do that? Oh man. His mind was whacked. So maybe his body hadn’t quite recovered from the torture and detox.

Light spilled out from only one of the buildings.

As he sneaked up to the bay doors, he hesitated. No weapon. No means. Ruled out bargaining with the pilot. Or what if it was a mechanic in there banging around?

He took a step—

A man emerged and gave a shout.

Canyon clapped a hand over his mouth and leaned down to whisper in the guy’s ear. “Quiet.”

Hands lifted. A muffled “Hey, it’s me” slipped past his hold.

The man’s face registered. “Kid.” He blinked and released him. “What’re you doing here?” Canyon braced himself against a barrel by the door.

Shorter than him by a head, the Kid made up for it in gumption. A cocky grin split the big mouth. “’Bout time you got here. I started wondering if I’d have to drag you out of there.”

“What?”

“You’re going after your girl, right?”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Riiight.” The Kid laughed, then grew serious. “Who do you think left your door unlocked?”

“The door was locked.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—they told me it was locked, so I thought I unlocked it.” The Kid scowled up at Canyon. “Then how’d you get out?”

Canyon shoved past him and admired the Black Hawk sitting outside the hangar. Fast enough but also loud. If he could jump out—not entirely the best maneuver, but it would work. Without a pilot, it didn’t matter.

“This baby’ll get you there. Can’t promise about getting back though.”

“Is the pilot around?”

Indignation crawled over the Kid’s face. “Who do you think you’re looking at?”

“Seriously?” Canyon patted the Kid’s shoulder. “Can you get me to the facility?”

“Facility?” The Kid stretched his jaw as the warm May air tussled his dark hair. “Nah, man. You want the dude’s estate. He’s having a big meeting there with a bunch of dignitaries.”

Staring at the stark black hull, he envisioned it. Roark would be Bruzon’s trophy. Would he flaunt her before his guests? No … no, he couldn’t afford to do that. Canyon dragged a hand over the Black Hawk’s nose.