“I’m here to search again.”
Eric looked tired and unhappy. The mud splattered on the side of his armored truck looked like it had been baked on, and his men didn’t look much better. Their uniforms were wrinkled, as if they’d been left crumpled on the floor of a tent one too many nights in a row. The stench that rolled off their bodies confirmed that Eric and his men had been on the road for many days.
After a beat of reluctance, Sloan stretched out a hand. “Be my guest.”
The Enforcers purposefully charged forward, while Sloan trailed behind them.
Shit. He hoped Eric wouldn’t notice that the ranks of the Foxworth community were much smaller.
He should’ve had more faith in his people, though. As he followed the troop of Enforcers through town, Foxworth’s thinned ranks streamed into the streets and created a hive of activity to disguise their lowered numbers.
Sloan hid a satisfied grin. Reese had taught everyone well.
Fortunately, Eric didn’t ask many questions. He moved quickly through each house, doing only a cursory onceover. Sloan could tell the soldier was exhausted and didn’t want to be doing this.
“Alright. Let’s go,” Eric announced after he and his men had cleared the last building.
“What about the camp leader?” one of the soldiers asked. “Should we be worried that she’s not here?”
Eric glanced over at Sloan, then rolled his eyes. “No. Her guard dog is here. She wouldn’t take a shit without him holding her hand.”
Snorting to himself, Eric took off walking in the direction of the main gates, while Sloan stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, valiantly working to hide his relief.
Son of a bitch. Reese had been right to order him to stay behind. Because if the Enforcers had come to find both Reese and Sloan gone? Fuck, they would’ve instantly suspected something was going down.
He let out a rueful sigh. Yeah. There was a reason Reese was the best possible leader for this town.
He just wished he’d told her that before she’d left.
16
Even with ten miles between Rylan and the Enforcer outpost they’d just destroyed, he could still smell the blood and smoke and gunpowder in the air. Especially the blood. It filled his nostrils and stuck to his throat, but he was in no rush to strip off his bloodstained sweater or throw a coat over it to mask the sharp, coppery scent.
There was no such thing as victory without blood.
And they’d spilled a lot of that tonight.
A feral smile twisted his lips as he glanced over his shoulder to peer at the back windshield. There was a second truck behind them, driven by a man named Trace and carrying the four other Foxworth fighters who’d assisted Rylan and Xander on the mission. But Rylan focused his gaze beyond the second vehicle, far in the distance. The thick black plume was hard to make out against the dark backdrop of the night sky, but spiraled wisps of smoke could be seen under the full moon. The acrid odor of soot and ash trailed the trucks as they sped down the cracked pavement away from the scene of their crime.
They’d launched four separate attacks tonight—two earlier in the evening, two in the later hours of the night. Beckett and Nash’s teams were already on their way back to Foxworth, their successful missions having left every Enforcer dead and both outposts in flames.
Rylan and Xan had seen the same success and were now speeding toward the rendezvous point where they were supposed to meet Reese’s team.
Which still hadn’t checked in.
Rylan couldn’t fight the worry gnawing on his gut, which only got worse the longer the radio clipped to his belt stayed silent. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He clicked the radio on and, using the code names they’d assigned, murmured, “Alpha One, come in.”
No answer.
Xander looked over from the driver’s seat. “It’s only been ten minutes. She’ll check in soon.”
Rylan wasn’t appeased. Ten minutes was a lifetime, damn it. Worst-case scenarios kept flashing through his mind, images of Reese lying in a pool of her own blood, her long red hair fanned around her head, a bullet hole in the center of her proud forehead.
His hands were weaker than a newborn’s as he pulled out a cigarette and lit up.
“You’re falling in love with her.”
Xander’s flat remark startled Rylan into dropping his cigarette on the torn passenger seat. “Shit,” he swore, hastily fumbling for the smoke before it burned a hole in the leather. Then he shot Xan an aggravated look. “No, I’m not.”
“If you say so.”
His friend didn’t believe him. Well, Xan was wrong. He wasn’t falling in love. Falling deeper in lust, fine, he’d own up to that. But not love. There was no such thing.
He took a drag, then exhaled in a rush. “It’s just sex, man.”