Edge of Obsession (SKALS 3)

Casting him a frustrated look, Josh shook his head and slid past.

Marx folded his arms. The sleeves of his uniform tightened across his massive biceps and strained at the seams. “Why do I get the impression your team doesn’t agree with me on this matter?”

Careful to keep his expression neutral, Sebastian shrugged. “Does it matter what they think? Their agreement isn’t necessary. Just compliance.”

Marx studied him. His square chin jutted in thought. After a long moment, he nodded. “Keep your men in line, Baas. Compliance or not, I won’t tolerate them questioning my decisions. I fail to see why your team can’t perform to capacity without receiving directions on how to handle the matter, Sebastian. This is a very serious problem in my eyes. I’m starting to think you are being as lax with them as you are in your personal life. Neither of which I find pleasing.”

“I fail to see what torturing a woman we plan to release accomplishes, other than leaving evidence and complications this team doesn’t need. We have ample leverage to use against her and she’s well aware what the repercussions will be.”

Marx’s chest shook with his dour laugh. One of his stern brows inched higher. “You are not the one in charge here, Sebastian. I am.”

“I am painfully aware of that fact.”

“I don’t care for your tone or the implications behind it.”

Squeezing his temples, Sebastian drew a deep breath, praying for some small measure of patience. “I am trying to watch out for my men and protect this organization. That’s what you’ve trained me to do.”

“SKALS doesn’t need your protection. As you pointed out, all that is required is your compliance. Do I have it or am I going to have to find a way to bring you crawling back to heel?”

He ground his teeth, his gaze narrowing into hate-fueled slits. “You have it.”

“I’m happy to hear that, Baas. Come. Take a walk with me. There is something I would like you to see.”

He frowned in confusion. A cold twinge of curiosity danced along his nape as Marx led the way across the circular basin and keyed in the access code for the other holding cell. The harsh grate of metal scraping against concrete screeched in his ears as the director pushed the door open then gestured him inside.

A flurry of movement drew his attention and threatened to kick his already heightened instincts into overdrive. His hand twitched, jumping toward his gun. He almost sprung toward the scuttling form, but Marx’s hand settled on his forearm, giving him pause. Blood and grime speckled her pale flesh, but there was no mistaking the bright copper of Irene’s hair as she scrambled to the far side of the room. If it weren’t for the fiery shade, he wouldn’t have recognized the pathetic mess.

The commander’s ham-sized fists had done a brutal number on her face. Dark bruising and swelling forced her once saucy features into an unrecognizable pulp. Shaking, the waitress huddled deeper against the wall, a bleak look of terror flooding her eyes as she regarded the two of them.

“You’ll have to excuse her appearance,” Marx said with thinly veiled humor. “It took us a while to reach a point of understanding.”

A firm snap of his fingers had Irene crawling across the room. Keeping her head lowered, she crouched in submission before Marx’s feet. Sebastian watched with detached interest as she planted a kiss on top of the director’s polished boot.

“It never ceases to amaze me,” he said, folding his arms with a pointed look. “Given proper motivation, even the most feral creatures will eventually come crawling back to heel.”

Sebastian stared at him in silence. The muscles in his cheek twitched with irritation as he weighed the meaning behind those words. Giving a brief nod, he cast his attention back to the door. The temperature inside the abandoned silo continued to climb, reaching almost unbearable heights. His lungs ached, burning with the need for a breath of cool air and his hair lay plastered against his scalp. Swinging his pale stare back to Marx, he clenched his jaw. It figured the smug bastard would feel the need to draw things out and gloat.

“Is there a reason for this visit?” he asked.

“I was just making a point, Baas. This is what we do. This is what I’ve trained you to be. These are the results I expect when I lock you and your men in a room with another human being.”

“Understood. Are we finished?”

“For now. Make sure your team stays focused where they should be.”

He bristled. “If you have something to say to me, just fucking say it. All of your implications are starting to piss me off.”

A taut silence hung between. Pale green warred with brown until the corners of the director’s mouth twitched. “When I have something worth saying Sebastian, you’ll be the first to know. But I wouldn’t expect words. I prefer my statements be much more bold,” Marx stated with a colorful flourish of his hand. The gesture sent Irene scuttling for the unsubstantial safety of a corner.

Ignoring her, Sebastian squared his shoulders and looked the commander in the eye. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You are full of anger, determination, and fire. As much as I admire those qualities, they also make you a very difficult man to tame. I suspect they will force us to opposite sides of the battlefield one day, Agent Baas. But today is not that day.”

“It sounds as if it’s something you look forward to,” he said, cocking his head.

Marx offered a wan smile. “Should that day come, I will mourn the loss of my protégée, but I will welcome the challenge the turn of events brings.”

“Anything to keep life interesting huh, Marx?”

The big man chortled, though the sound lacked genuine humor. “Exactly. You know that better than most.”

Sebastian gave a wry snort and nodded. “Be careful not to bite off more than you can chew.”

With that, he shot the battered waitress and her captor a look of disgust before knocking on the door. Nothing Taylor did or said about that woman would ever change his mind. Irene was exactly where she deserved to be—though he doubted this was the kind of kept woman she’d envisioned being. Either way, it was living proof that some dreams did come true. At least to an extent. His lips quirked with a dark bid of humor, then straightened as he analyzed his conversation with Marx.

The topic was nothing new. That made it hard to tell if it was just the usual prodding the bastard liked to give, or if he was on to something. Blowing out a forceful breath, Sebastian shook his head. One way or another, it was time to step up his game. The last thing he wanted was for his family to get caught in the crosshairs of the asshole’s plans.

He glanced up as the door across from him swung open. Josh stepped out first. The harsh angles of his face were still set with anger as he brushed past the guards. Vince half-helped, half-dragged a groggy Colleen James out behind him.

Wiping his bloody hands on his uniform, Sebastian’s partner gave a cold nod of affirmation. “She’s done. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Taylor blinked against the soft, golden glow flooding the room. Squinting at the fireplace, she stretched and fingered the buttery cashmere throw draped over her in confusion. She wasn’t sure how long she’d dozed for, but night had already started encroaching outside the bay windows and the solar lights decorating the yard flickered against the threat of darkness. The leather couch creaked beneath her as she shifted and lifted her head to scan her surroundings. A faint smile curled her lips as she spied Sebastian sitting on the other end of the cushions. Clad in nothing but a pair of airy white pajama pants, he looked both relaxed and regal as he studied the paperback in his hands.

She scanned the cover, her forehead creasing. The Art of War hardly seemed like a leisurely read, even for him. Apprehension closed around her heart in a merciless fist. Did this have something to do with Marx, or was it something more? Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the conversation he’d had with Josh about someone following him.

She couldn’t go through another incident like the one

with Laychee again. She just couldn’t. Sleep still didn’t come easy, and more nights than not, she woke up drenched in sweat, a strangled scream locked in her throat. No matter how adept she was at blocking the horrifying memories during the day, there was no way to escape them in her dreams, where the power of fear and subconscious still reigned.

Sensing her attention, Sebastian glanced up and cast the paperback aside. She searched his face, hoping to gauge his mood. Last night had been anything but a precursor to a good day. Offering a tentative smile, she peeled back the blanket and sat up with a yawn. Much to her surprise, he appeared amicable enough as he returned her scrutiny.

“Hi, handsome. How long have you been home?”

“Not too long, baby.”

Pouting, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You need the rest,” he said with a shrug. His pale stare locked with hers and he lifted a questioning brow. “Is there a reason why all I’m getting is a quick peck on the cheek?”

Blushing, she shook her head with an embarrassed laugh. “Other than the fact that I might have morning breath? No.”

His smile was reluctant and strained. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take. Come here.”

Sebastian grabbed her and pulled her up the front of him. She shuddered as his big hands molded her ass, pushing her down against the cradle of his hips. Palming the back of her head, he claimed her mouth in a long, smoldering kiss. The crisp taste of spearmint clung to his lips.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, settling his forehead against hers.

“Mmm. Yes it is. I kept a plate warming for you in the oven. Would you like me to grab it?”

“No, sweetheart. I already found it and ate. Now I’m ready for my dessert.”