When He's Bad Read online

  I’m calm, my pace even with hers, but adrenaline pulses through me, and because Pri matters to me, I’m focused on how we get out of this alive. Even if Deleon knows about the tunnel, Walker is protecting us, and the exit isn’t easy to find.

  Pri and I fall into silence, walking forward, but Pri’s breathing is raspy and too shallow. We’re about halfway to the exit when I halt her and lean into her. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.”

  “I can’t seem to catch my breath.”

  “Just breathe in, sweetheart, long and full. Remind yourself you can do it.”

  She inhales, pulling in the breath, and my hand slides to her belly. “Now breathe out.”

  Her breath gushes from her lips. “I’m good,” she hisses. “I’m fine. Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

  My lips curve with approval. “Let’s go.”

  She steps forward, and I have no idea how she just defeated her demons, but I need lessons because she’s in full charge, now in control of her baggage. With our new pace, we’re at the exit quickly and I catch her hand, pulling her around to face me. “I need you to stay here while I clear the path. You have your gun?”

  “In my purse.” She pats it at her hip. “I grabbed it when I grabbed my gun.”

  “Pull it out and use it if you have to, but take my lead. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  I rotate us in the small space, pressing our bodies close as I take the lead. When I’m in front, she grabs my arm. “Do not get killed. We have things to discuss, you and me.”

  She’s right. We do. Things like those times when I’m bad. And it happens far more often than she wants to know.

  Chapter Three

  ADRIAN

  I head up the steel steps implanted in the tunnel wall, but pause at the top, just beneath the door. Smart man that my father was, he’d placed our exit location in the center of a circle of bushes, but that coverage does me no good if someone’s waiting on us above.

  For just a moment, I consider swinging back to the cabin, but I talked to the Walker team before we ever left Austin. We have a plan. They know my underground location and if the coast were clear to return to the cabin, they’d drop a light in the tunnel as a signal. And since that hasn’t happened, I can only hope we’re safe ahead.

  Drawing my Glock, I ease the sliding door aside just enough to do a survey of what is directly in front of me and above, which is rain, a pounding, steady rain. The only good thing about rain, at least at this particular moment, is the extra coverage it offers. No one is standing in this downpour indefinitely. No one will have exceptional visuals as we make our getaway.

  I glance down at Pri. “Be ready for a shower. It’s a fucking downpour.”

  “Better rain than bullets,” she murmurs.

  Amen, I think. She’s not wrong. I slide the door wider, and hitch upward on my hands, into the downpour. I’m instantly drenched and trying to spy our enemy in what is near zero visibility. I lift myself out of the hole and rest in a squatting position, waiting for a war that doesn’t come.

  Easing closer to the bushes, I’m up on my haunches, avoiding the booby traps I have set, creeping around the circle. I’m visualizing our path out of here as much as possible. The open clearing we have to travel on our way to the heavily wooded area beyond is a downside to my father’s chosen path. He ran into issues with tree roots that forced him to end in that circle of bushes.

  For now, there’s no evident danger, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

  Eager to get us to a safe shelter, I return to the door to find Pri peeking out, scanning the area with her gun, offering me cover. And she dared to call herself weak. Holy hell, I’ve only known Pri for a few weeks and I think I want to know her for the rest of my life. Which won’t happen. I’ve always known that’s not how this ends. That’s not how we end.

  Staying low, I close the space between me and her and help her out of the hole, the rain instantly plastering her hair to her face. Motioning for her to stay where she is, I reseal the door, covering it with mud and foliage. With both of us in squatting positions, I face Pri, and the rain is so damn loud I signal with my hands to tell her to stay with me, stay silent, and stay down.

  Once she nods her understanding, I motion to the two bushes free of booby traps, our safe exit point, and fuck me, I’m drowning. Our feet slush a path through muddy terrain in that direction, and I catch Pri’s arm, holding her in place as I scan for a threat. I can’t see any sign of trouble or anything else for that matter, and I can only pray that means trouble can’t see us.

  I wave two fingers forward and exit the bushes with Pri quickly by my side, both of us running through the wide-open space we can’t avoid. Our path is the dark haven of trees and brush, a vertical horror house of obstacles, but a familiar one I welcome more than I dread.

  We live if we survive those woods.

  Chapter Four

  ADRIAN

  The night is dark and thank fuck my memory is not. We enter the forest, branches biting at our legs, but I’ve run this ground and I know every inch of the path we travel the way a blind man learns his own home. I hold onto Pri, ensuring she stays on her feet, navigating trees and rocks in absolute fucking darkness. The storm is plummeting down on top of us, a blanket of water that might as well be rocks. And still, we plod forward.

  Once we’re a good mile from the tunnel exit, I pull the flashlight from my pocket where I’ve stored it, keeping it low, pointing it at the ground. And I keep us in a forward momentum, determination in my every maneuver ahead.

  In the process, my mind tracks in and out of the past, four and a half years ago in the past to be exact—the last thanksgiving my parents were alive. It was as always, a day that was all about family, and a spectacular meal my mother prepared, the chowing down process happening right before we decorated the tree. For a moment, I’m back at the dinner table. This holiday it’s just me, Mom, Dad, and Alex. Raf is halfway around the world on a tour, having scored a spot as an opening act for a big pop star.

  “I’m so glad you boys could be here,” my mother says, scooping up another one of her famous tamales and setting it on my plate. I love these damn tamales. And I love the way her brown eyes light when Alex holds out his plate as well.

  “More, Mom,” Alex says. “Your boys miss your cooking.”

  Mom quickly obliges his request and fills his plate while my father laughs. My father loves this holiday time as much as we do. “I’m excited for Rafael,” Mom says after we all dig into our food again, “but I miss him so much this year. It’s off not having him here.”

  The longing in her voice that day still haunts me. Missing that holiday still haunts Raf. Nothing haunts Alex. He’s dead, and apparently still proving he can fuck me over.

  Pri trips and I catch her waist, holding her close, angry at my dead brother for playing a role in how she got here. Alex betrayed more than just me by giving up the cabin. He betrayed our promise to our father to treat the cabin as a family secret, our sanctuary.

  When I’m certain Pri’s solidly on her feet, I catch her hand again and do the best thing I can to protect her. I get us moving again toward my sanctuary, the one I created after my parents were murdered. Someone betrayed my father, the way Alex betrayed me. My father, my hero, who was skilled and intelligent, fell to the enemy, one we never named. It’s a cold reminder to keep my guard up, and one that probably saved my life the night Alex died. No, I think, the night I killed Alex.

  The rain wanes, but my anger and memories don’t. I’m back in the past again, back to that same Thanksgiving, the last Thanksgiving with my parents. When dinner was done, another tradition kicked in. Me, Alex, and Dad, all three of us FBI agents, headed out to the cabin, in what would be, as it always was, a chance to test our skills. One might think that made sense, us without Rafael, but we’d never been to the cabin without Rafael. For a long time, I’d wondered if his absence was why that day had felt of
f. Later, I knew better. Alex was off.

  I’m back to replaying that day, to what told me he was off. We were at the back of the cabin where my father had designed a firing range and an obstacle course. I fade into the memory.

  “Let’s see what you’re made of, boys,” my father says, motioning us to the stacked bundles of hay. My father’s a good-looking man, with tattoos on his arms, and a salt and pepper mix of thick hair.

  Obediently, Alex and I line up behind the hay, ready to run the course.

  Alex glances at me, a challenge in his eyes. “You want me to show you up first or last?”

  I smirk. “Go for it,” I say, because yeah, he’s older, but I know my practice has paid off.

  “Watch and learn, little brother,” he says and there is something in his tone I can’t quite name, but it’s my decision to make. I’m not coddling him today. I’m whipping his ass.

  He masters the course with impressive skill and time, gloating as my father cheers his performance. I’m up next and I perform with the ease of a man who’s spent extra time out here that Alex hasn’t. When I’m done, beating him by considerable standards, I don’t gloat. I simply say, “How about a beer?”

  Alex scowled at me, and to this day, I remember a glint in his eyes I’d never seen before. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.

  It was hate.

  He hated me. I’m pretty sure he hated us all.

  A loud clap of thunder jolts me out of my own head, and I can almost imagine it as my father, a roar of his distress over one of us killing our own. And yet, I did. I killed Alex.

  Pri and I near the end of this section of the woods and another clearing we have to pass through to get to the safe zone. This will be the final obstacle I anticipate between us and our destination. The sky seems to know, too, groaning and then opening up and blasting us with another downpour. That downpour, I decide, is a blessing, offering coverage we might not otherwise have at our disposal.

  I halt Pri at the line of the woods and pull us to a squat behind heavy foliage and flip off the light, shoving it into my pocket. For a good two minutes, I scan the surrounding area, looking for trouble that I know can’t be here. No one knows where I’m headed but Walker Security.

  I lean into Pri and cup her head, lips at her ear. “Once we start running, do not stop for any reason.”

  She nods and I scan one last time before I motion us forward and we dart into the clearing. Adrenaline pumps through me. I pull Pri forward, ahead of me so I’m the target of any bullet that goes flying. It starts to hail, pelts of ice punching at us, and Pri stumbles again. I catch her before she goes down and she rights her footing and like a good little soldier, keeps moving. The run is short, but it’s as if it’s in slow motion, never-ending.

  In my mind, I’m back in time again, living the moment after I killed my brother, and it’s absolute hell. Everyone close to me dies and somehow in my mind, it’s Pri lying there on the floor where my brother had died, Pri dying, like it’s a damn premonition.

  There’s a crack in the air, a gunshot in the far distance. Pri reaches the woods on the opposite side of the clearing and, heart pumping, I’m right there with her. I catch her arm and step behind the wide column of a tree trunk and rest my back against it, pulling Pri in front of me. A second later, I rotate her, pressing her back to the tree, and sheltering her here in the dark stormy night, my body her armor, waiting for the bullets to fly.

  Chapter Five

  PRI

  Adrian’s big body is a wall that halts the onslaught of rain, but who’s protecting him? I know I heard a gunshot and I hold my breath, afraid for what comes next. Afraid he’s sheltering me at his own peril. Afraid he will soon fall to the ground, injured or dying, like Agent Pitt. I don’t know what happened with Adrian’s brother and right now I don’t care. I know we’re out here, fighting for our lives, the two of us. And I know I wouldn’t be alive right now if not for him. And I know he matters to me. Deeply, beyond what perhaps he should in a few short weeks, but I don’t care about that either.

  Thunder rumbles overhead and I lose track of time, fifteen minutes pass, I think, and we don’t move. Finally, with no more shots fired, Adrian inches back from me, the rain slowing, almost a tease that promises more to come. He’s still close, so close that I could almost forget we’re in danger. Suddenly, one of his hands is on my head. I grab his T-shirt and now we’re both holding each other and our weapons. He leans in again and his mouth slants over my mouth. And then he’s kissing me, and it’s not just a kiss. It’s ravishing, hungry, a kiss that’s pure obsession and even torment, almost a goodbye like he has to taste me once more before we die. I’m panting when his lips part from mine and he whispers, “We have to move.”

  Those words shouldn’t comfort me, but the kiss did and the very fact that we’re not dodging bullets, does. The very fact that we’re alive and well and still able to run does, too.

  “I need you to hold onto me,” he says, taking my gun and sliding it into the back of my pants. “It’s too dark to hold onto it and me.”

  I nod and he’s already holding my hand, stepping back, the rain’s retreat ending, as it pounds down on me, on us, once again. And then we’re repeating the past hour, hiking through utter rain-laden darkness that feels almost as suffocating as that tunnel.

  I’m exhausted when we start an upward, tortuous climb, but at least the terrain is smooth rock now, easier to maneuver. For a good ten minutes, we power upward, when to my relief, Adrian halts and pulls out his flashlight. It’s then that I realize we’re at the entrance to a cave and we’re going inside. I have no idea why that concept doesn’t freak me out, but I’ve learned over the years that there is no obvious rhyme or reason to my triggers. Or maybe I’m just too tired to have triggers right now.

  Adrian motions for me to stand under a ledge of rocks. Once I’m in position, out of the rain, he bends over and enters the cave. I’m drenched and suddenly cold. Hugging myself against my shivers, I count down two full minutes before he exits and motions me forward. He squats down in front of the entrance and I join him. “It’s narrow,” he whispers, “but once you enter the main cavern, there’s standing room and I’ve turned on a lantern.”

  I try not to think about the narrow part. I don’t ask about the lantern or obvious planning he’s done, either. Not now. As he said, questions are for later. For the time being, I just nod and sway toward the cave’s entrance. Adrian catches my arm. “You okay?”

  I hate that he fears my freak-out. I hate that I let him see me freak out at all.

  “Yes,” I reply and say nothing more. More feels like too much right about now.

  He studies me a moment and I don’t know what he expected to find and actually does find, but whatever the case, he releases me. I waste no time settling onto my hands and knees and entering the cavern. The path curves right and left. This ends at a decent-sized hole I climb through and I don’t give myself time to panic. I suck in air and just go for it. It’s not too tight and I’m through in an instant, but there’s another hole to my left. I repeat my efforts, sliding through it, and then I’m there, on my knees, just inside a small, bedroom-sized cave aglow with the promised lantern. There’s also a blow-up mattress, blankets, and what looks like a few boxes of supplies that must have taken real effort to get in here.

  Adrian joins me and helps me to my feet, his hand only momentarily on my waist, steadying me, somehow branding me. He’s been touching me the entire time we’ve been on the run in the woods, but somehow now I’m not immune, not even close. How can I be? He, unlike me I’m sure, looks good with his T-shirt clinging to his muscled chest and his dark hair plastered to his handsome, if not weary, face. Not to mention, the taste of that passionate kiss we’d shared in the woods still lingers on my lips despite the rain trying to wash it away.

  “Home sweet home until our rescue squad arrives,” he says, giving me a concerned inspection. “How are you doing in here?”r />
  “Fine,” I say and while I’d like to leave it at that, and forget my panic attack happened, I doubt he can forget, not under these confined circumstances. He needs more from me than one word. I rotate to face him and say, “It’s hard to explain, but the triggers are random, unpredictable, and infrequent. And at present, I think I’m too tired, cold, and numb to feel anything but relief to be anywhere but out there in the rain.”

  He’s back to studying me with a far too keen eye, and I can feel the tug of a question he isn’t asking between us. And I know why or I think I do anyway. I believe he’s afraid that if he asks questions that I answer, I’ll then ask him questions, and he’ll feel obligated to answer me.

  He doesn’t risk the quid pro quo I wouldn’t demand and actually don’t want to extend myself on this particular topic. Instead, he reaches over and strokes my wet hair from my face, tenderness in his touch that defies a man capable of killing his brother—that is unless he had no choice. I catch his hand, silently letting him know that I still believe in him.

  If he really killed his brother, I know in my gut that he had no choice. And he certainly didn’t enjoy it.

  He cuts his gaze, his expression hidden from view, but not before I glimpse the shame and regret in his eyes. Not before I see the truth. He killed his brother, I’m certain. At this point, that part isn’t a surprise, but I saw something else in his expression. Something I can’t name. Something even beyond the obvious that he doesn’t want me to know right now or I suspect, ever.

  Chapter Six

  PRI

  There’s a heavy beat between me and Adrian that he doesn’t allow to last. “Let me get you a towel and some dry clothes,” he says, and then he’s moving away from me, putting what space there is to garner between us.

  He crosses the cavern and squats down near a row of boxes sitting against the wall. “For you,” he says, tossing a towel at me, which I catch easily and accept eagerly.