Sit down, Kayla,” Thane ordered.
“I don’t need to sit, Thane, I’m not an invalid.” She yanked herself
from Greg’s arms, and headed toward the patio, opening all three doors wide to
let out the bloody vapors of the Shark’s victims. Anger almost pitched her over
the side of sanity, but at the same moment, her body froze with a thought. The
media, more specifically one reporter, who was spearheading the finger pointing
at the SEALs as one of the killers had coined the name the Blood Shark . Was it just coincidence? Her tactical mind began to
wheel through the possibilities. Coincidence? Not frickin’ likely.
* * * *
Cobbs and Law followed
him down the hallway. “How bad is it?” Thane asked, pushing on the bathroom
door. No one needed to say anything, as it swung open. “Oh, Jesus. What do ya
think? Real or cow?” Like a house of horrors, blood seeped into the cracks,
across the counters, and crawled down the white porcelain tub.
“Wish it were the
latter,” Law stated, darting a look at the blood covering every surface. “Doubt
it, though.”
Thane walked down the
hall, stopping in the doorway of her bedroom. The Shark had shredded her bed,
her clothes, and trashed her cabinets. He took a couple steps inside. The
picture he’d hung above her bed, the one he’d given her for Christmas, lay on
the ground, the glass broken in three pieces, and the painting slashed as if
the Shark had known it meant something special to her.
“What did he do to my
room?”
Kayla couldn’t see with
Law and Cobbs’ large frames in the way, and they both turned at the same time
and pushed her backwards. More voices joined the crowd in the living room. They
met Manchester in the hallway. The same technician who’d come to the Command
Center to collect the finger veered into her bathroom with a kit clenched in
his hand.
“I don’t think Kayla
should be in here, do you?” Manchester asked.
“Listen up, men,” she
barked. “I have post traumatic disorder. That doesn’t mean I’m weak-kneed,
addle-brained or unable to exist just friggin’ fine.”
“Couch. Now,” Thane
ordered.
“Fuck you, Captain,
this is my house,” she railed at him as Lapierre towered behind her.
Thane leaned over her,
and she did her damnedest not to lean away. “Fall—back—now.” His emotions were
on the reeling edge of a cyclone. Tony’s first words to him on the phone had made
his entire soul seize tight. We’re at
Kayla’s condo, it’s filled with blood. He was in his office, and gave
himself whiplash turning toward the ops room. Not seeing her, he lost it just
like a rooky squid instead of a man who’d spent years crushing the turmoil and
pressure of seeing bad things under his heel. When Tony expounded that Nina and
Kayla were with him and Mace, it was too late for his heart to cease its fever
pitch. “Just give us a second.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ma maison. Ma salle de bain. Je ne veux
pas de ta maudite protection. J’ai le droit de savoir les détails. Arrête
d’être un dominateur.” My
house. My bathroom. I don't want your damn protection. I have a right to know
the details. Stop being an overbearing ass.
Yup, she was pissed.
Staring her down was his only option. She rolled her eyes at him and stormed
down the hallway.
Lapierre raised a brow
and turned to peer in her bathroom. Over the last week, Thane had gotten to
know Kayla’s ex-brother-in-law, and with resigned acceptance appreciated his
help. Lapierre had given them some angles they hadn’t thought of, and they’d
exhausted all of them. The guy was as solid as they came, which bothered the
hell out of him.
“Human?” Lapierre asked
Manchester, jerking his head toward the bathroom.
“We’ll know in a
minute,” Manchester said. “How’s she doing?”
Thane breathed out a
deep sigh. “She only speaks French when she’s seriously pissed.” When Tony
explained what the Shark had done, he thought she’d fall into an episode.
“I don’t need to sit, Thane, I’m not an invalid.” She yanked herself
from Greg’s arms, and headed toward the patio, opening all three doors wide to
let out the bloody vapors of the Shark’s victims. Anger almost pitched her over
the side of sanity, but at the same moment, her body froze with a thought. The
media, more specifically one reporter, who was spearheading the finger pointing
at the SEALs as one of the killers had coined the name the Blood Shark . Was it just coincidence? Her tactical mind began to
wheel through the possibilities. Coincidence? Not frickin’ likely.
* * * *
Cobbs and Law followed
him down the hallway. “How bad is it?” Thane asked, pushing on the bathroom
door. No one needed to say anything, as it swung open. “Oh, Jesus. What do ya
think? Real or cow?” Like a house of horrors, blood seeped into the cracks,
across the counters, and crawled down the white porcelain tub.
“Wish it were the
latter,” Law stated, darting a look at the blood covering every surface. “Doubt
it, though.”
Thane walked down the
hall, stopping in the doorway of her bedroom. The Shark had shredded her bed,
her clothes, and trashed her cabinets. He took a couple steps inside. The
picture he’d hung above her bed, the one he’d given her for Christmas, lay on
the ground, the glass broken in three pieces, and the painting slashed as if
the Shark had known it meant something special to her.
“What did he do to my
room?”
Kayla couldn’t see with
Law and Cobbs’ large frames in the way, and they both turned at the same time
and pushed her backwards. More voices joined the crowd in the living room. They
met Manchester in the hallway. The same technician who’d come to the Command
Center to collect the finger veered into her bathroom with a kit clenched in
his hand.
“I don’t think Kayla
should be in here, do you?” Manchester asked.
“Listen up, men,” she
barked. “I have post traumatic disorder. That doesn’t mean I’m weak-kneed,
addle-brained or unable to exist just friggin’ fine.”
“Couch. Now,” Thane
ordered.
“Fuck you, Captain,
this is my house,” she railed at him as Lapierre towered behind her.
Thane leaned over her,
and she did her damnedest not to lean away. “Fall—back—now.” His emotions were
on the reeling edge of a cyclone. Tony’s first words to him on the phone had made
his entire soul seize tight. We’re at
Kayla’s condo, it’s filled with blood. He was in his office, and gave
himself whiplash turning toward the ops room. Not seeing her, he lost it just
like a rooky squid instead of a man who’d spent years crushing the turmoil and
pressure of seeing bad things under his heel. When Tony expounded that Nina and
Kayla were with him and Mace, it was too late for his heart to cease its fever
pitch. “Just give us a second.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ma maison. Ma salle de bain. Je ne veux
pas de ta maudite protection. J’ai le droit de savoir les détails. Arrête
d’être un dominateur.” My
house. My bathroom. I don't want your damn protection. I have a right to know
the details. Stop being an overbearing ass.
Yup, she was pissed.
Staring her down was his only option. She rolled her eyes at him and stormed
down the hallway.
Lapierre raised a brow
and turned to peer in her bathroom. Over the last week, Thane had gotten to
know Kayla’s ex-brother-in-law, and with resigned acceptance appreciated his
help. Lapierre had given them some angles they hadn’t thought of, and they’d
exhausted all of them. The guy was as solid as they came, which bothered the
hell out of him.
“Human?” Lapierre asked
Manchester, jerking his head toward the bathroom.
“We’ll know in a
minute,” Manchester said. “How’s she doing?”
Thane breathed out a
deep sigh. “She only speaks French when she’s seriously pissed.” When Tony
explained what the Shark had done, he thought she’d fall into an episode.
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