What a shit-storm. He had a woman in the other room now frightened of him and probably in more danger than she understood, and he had a boy in front of him who was well versed in torture at only about twelve years old. Plus, the past was breathing down his neck and about to explode again—he just knew it. “We’re fucked,” he muttered.
Greg scratched his elbow. “Copy that.” He stared at the man on the ground. “Though this guy wasn’t after me.”
Ryker frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Because you and I are both still alive. The commander and Madison wouldn’t have sent anybody we could’ve fought so easily. Sorry.”
The kid had a real fear of his commander. “I don’t know, Greg. You handled yourself pretty well.”
“So did Zara. Did you see her swing the skillet? Went right for the knockout shot to the head.” Greg grinned through bruised lips.
Yeah. Ryker’s chest swelled. She was one tough woman when necessary. He crouched down and dragged the bound man up and over his shoulder. He let out a groan. The guy weighed a ton. “Here’s the plan. I’ll get this guy and Zara into the truck while you follow. Try to get the front door as closed as possible.”
Greg looked around. “The shades are drawn, so nobody can see the mess.”
“We’ll come back and clean it up later. Right now we need to get Zara to a secure location and then figure out who this guy is and who he’s working for.” Ryker turned and kicked a bowl out of his way.
Zara emerged from the bedroom. She’d changed into dark jeans and a blue sweater that matched her eyes. Her skin was so pale as to be luminescent, and her eyes were wide like a doe’s. She had a duffel bag over one shoulder, and she didn’t quite meet his gaze. “What are you doing with that guy?” she whispered.
“He’s coming with us.” Ryker headed for the door. “Come on, Zara.” He kept a low thread of command in his voice. For now, he needed her strong and quick. The woman could fall apart later, and he’d be there for her. “Move.”
She followed him out to the truck in her driveway, wincing when he tossed the bound man into the backseat. Darkness shrouded them, but dawn would be breaking soon, and they needed to be out of sight by then.
Ryker opened the passenger side door and lifted her in. He turned and watched Greg finish setting the front door to rights. It looked okay and not like it had been busted open. Good. The kid hustled down the walk and reached the car. Ryker handed him the gun. “Do you mind sitting in back with this guy?”
“Nope.” Greg slid into the backseat and shoved the bound man over to the other side. “Not a problem.”
Everything in Ryker wanted to find the mysterious commander and beat the ever livin’ shit out of him. No preteen should be okay with holding a gun on a hostage. “Thanks,” Ryker said, shutting the door.
He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, quickly pulling out into the street.
Zara sat next to him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “I still think we should call the police.”
“We still might,” Ryker said, keeping just under the speed limit while dialing Denver.
“What?” Denver growled into the phone.
Ryker paused at a stop sign. “I need the boiler room prepared for a guest.” He clicked off.
“Boiler room?” Zara asked.
“When we get to my place, I need you to go up to the apartment and wait for me,” Ryker said, looking into the backseat. “You too, kid.”
Greg didn’t answer and kept his gaze level.
Snow fell around them, soft and drifting. Ryker made tracks through town and pulled into the underground garage, where Denver and Heath were already waiting by the boiler room. He pulled Zara his way and helped her out his door. “Upstairs, sweetheart. If you can get some sleep, do it.”
She looked at Denver and Heath and then swung around to face him. “This is a bad idea.”
He ran a knuckle down the newest bruise on her face. So far, he was doing a piss-poor job of protecting her. The idea that somebody had infiltrated her home and put his hands on her threatened to steal Ryker’s self-control. The pressure of possible failure was nothing compared to the reality of the outcome. She couldn’t be one more person he’d lost. Thank God Greg had been there. Ryker owed the kid now, for sure. “Go. Now.”
She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, heading for the stairwell.
Ryker opened the back door, and Greg jumped out. “I need you to cover her,” Ryker whispered. “Until we figure out if this guy was after her or not, she needs to stay in my apartment.”
Greg paused, looked at the door Zara had disappeared through and then back at Ryker. “I can get the guy to talk.”
Ryker blanched. “Give me something, kid. I can’t live with having you a part of this.” It was as honest as he could get with the twelve-year-old.
Greg tucked the gun into the back waistband of his pants. “Fair enough. If you need help, just holler.” He headed for the stairs.
Ryker watched him go, his chest actually hurting. Then he reached into the truck and hauled the bound man out by the armpits.
“Holy shit,” Heath said, moving forward to grab the guy’s knees and lift. “Who the hell?”