Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

Her heart seized. Family? She couldn’t remember a family. All she could remember was Ethan, and even those images were vague. When had she forgotten? All she could remember was endless pain and fear. The haziness brought on by injections thrust upon her and the crawling need when they waited too long to give her another dose.

For a brief moment she hesitated, drawn to the idea of family. A home. People who loved her. But then she remembered. Ethan was dead. He was all she had, all she could remember. Surely she would remember if there were others. Would she have forgotten her family?

You can barely remember who you are.

The thought drifted through the twisted pathways of her mind, taunting and reminding her of her tenuous grasp on her sanity.

She caught movement in her periphery and yanked her head to the side to see another man stalk toward Sam and Steele. He wore a ferocious scowl as his gaze homed in on her. He was bigger and meaner looking than Sam, and he should have put the fear of God in her, but there was something familiar, something oddly comforting about him.

Was she losing her mind?

He stopped at Sam’s side, and she still stared as images flashed erratically in her mind.

“What the hell is going on, Sam?” he asked in a low growl. “We don’t have time to be fucking around. Let’s get her and go.”

“Tell her that,” Sam murmured as he stared at the gun she held. “I’d say she doesn’t want to go.”

Like flashes of lightning in a black sky, pictures shot randomly through her shattered mind. Memories? The man standing beside Sam, only he was smiling, almost tenderly. Water. A dock. He lifted her and then tossed her into the lake. He stood laughing as she came up sputtering, and she was laughing too. Happy. She’d been happy.

Another memory, haunting and sweet. A church. Her gliding down the center aisle. Ethan waiting . . . and this man in front of her . . . he’d escorted her. Her hand clutched tight over his arm. He whispered low for her not to worry, that she was the most beautiful bride in the world and that his brother was the luckiest man on earth.

Garrett. Ethan’s brother?

“Garrett?” she whispered.

His face immediately softened. The scowl disappeared and something that looked like joy flashed in his eyes for just a moment.

“Yes, Rachel. It’s me, Garrett.”

Making an instant decision, she flew to his side, careful to put him between her and the other two men. He stiffened in surprise but put an arm around her. She tucked herself into his side and leveled a guarded look at Sam.

“Let me have the gun, sweet pea,” Garrett murmured as he gently pried it from her fingers.

She flinched when it glanced off her injured shoulder, and her breathing sped up. Sam frowned and made a move toward her, but she hastily backed away, her feet tangling in the undergrowth. She went down on her backside, landing painfully.

Garrett was down beside her instantly, his hand going to her arm. Sam stood back, his brows furrowed.

“Are you okay, Rachel? Where are you hurt?” Garrett asked.

“My shoulder,” she said. “I can’t move my arm. Hurts too much.”

“Probably dislocated,” Sam said grimly. “The angle is crooked, and she’s favoring it awfully bad.”

She scooted back as Sam moved forward again. He cursed and halted.

“She doesn’t remember you,” Garrett said.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sam muttered. “I’m not surprised she remembers you, though. Thank God for that at least.”

“He lied,” Rachel whispered.

Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Who lied?”

“Sam.”

Sam’s head rocked back in surprise. “Me?”

Garrett’s hand came out to smooth her hair from her face. “What did he lie about, sweet pea?”

Tears welled, and she bit her lip to keep the moan of despair from escaping. “He said he’d take me back to Ethan, but Ethan’s dead.”

Both Garrett’s and Sam’s eyes widened in shock. Sam blew out his breath then squatted beside her, ignoring her efforts to move away.

“Why on earth do you think Ethan’s dead?”

“I saw him fall. He was shot. He told me to go and then he went down. I saw him.”

Sam smiled. “He’s not dead, Rachel. It would take a hell of a lot more than that to kill that ornery bastard. It was just a graze. He bled like a stuck pig, but he’s fine. I swear it.”

Her gaze flew to Garrett for confirmation, hope beating relentlessly against her chest. Garrett gave a short nod.

“Is he okay now?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Where is he?”

“I’ll take you to him,” Sam said. “But we have to hurry.”

Fear leapt into her throat, and she began to shake. “Don’t let them take me back. Please.”

Garrett’s face darkened, and she shivered at the raw violence on his face. From behind Sam, the other man stepped out. For a moment, his cool eyes bore into her and then he crouched down beside her. He didn’t press into her space. He just squatted there staring intently at her.

“You don’t know me, Rachel,” he said in an even voice. “You have no reason to believe me. But there’s one thing I can guarantee you. I won’t allow those bastards to take you back. I’m going to get you and Ethan back home where you belong. Do you understand?”

There was rock-hard assurance in his voice. An unwavering confidence that, despite her fear and anxiety, calmed her.

Slowly she nodded. Steele nodded back and then rose, putting several feet of distance between them.

“This might hurt,” Garrett said. He reached down and tucked one arm underneath her knees. His other arm slid along her back, and he carefully picked her up, trying not to jostle her hurt shoulder.

She snuck a cautious look at Sam, studying him from the safety of Garrett’s hold. He didn’t look like Ethan. Garrett did, and maybe that’s why she remembered him. While Ethan and Garrett were big, black-haired men with hard bodies and hard faces, Sam was leaner but no less muscled. His hair was light brown, but his jaw was square and had a determined set that unnerved her. His eyes were a cold blue. A lot like Steele’s. Impenetrable ice.

As if sensing her perusal, he glanced up. Like magic, those hard eyes softened and became warm. He offered her a tentative smile.

“I don’t remember you,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair over her ear. “That’s all right, sweetheart. You will. What’s important is that we get you back to Ethan and then home, where we can all fuss over you and get you well.”

Garrett started out, jostling her slightly as he navigated the tangled jungle floor. Sam moved swiftly ahead, his gun up as he scouted the area in quick, methodical sweeps. Steele brought up the rear.

“Who is ‘all’?” she asked Garrett in a low voice.

“Shhh, not now,” Garrett said, though his voice was even and unscolding. “I promise to tell you all about it when we’re out of hot water.”

She tucked her head underneath his chin and rested her cheek against his broad chest. And then as she settled, need, harsh and relentless, hit her. She began to shake. She was simultaneously hot then cold. Sweat broke out over her skin, and she shivered in continuous spasms.

Garrett’s arms tightened around her until pain shot down her arm. She gasped, and he immediately loosened his grip.

“Medicine,” she gasped. “Please, I have to have it. I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Garrett whispered against her hair. “I’m not going to let you. I know it hurts, honey, but you have to fight it. Don’t let them win. Think about Ethan. You’ll be back with him soon.”

She closed her eyes as a thousand insects crawled over her body. Over her skin, burrowing underneath her clothing. It was all she could do not to scream and throw herself down to swipe at them, to scrub them from her flesh.

“Goddamn it, Sam, do you have a sedative in your bag?” Garrett said.

He stopped walking and shifted her in his arms. A few seconds later, she felt a sharp stick in her arm. She yanked her head up in surprise and stared wordlessly at Garrett.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he said in a thick voice. “Close your eyes. It’ll get better, I promise.”

His face blurred in her vision. “Ethan,” she whispered. “You promised.”

“When you wake up, he’ll be here,” Sam said beside her. “Relax and don’t fight it.”

For a moment, she continued to fight, too immersed in the wave after wave of pain and vicious hunger to simply let go. The world faded around her and her eyes fluttered, but she hung on tenaciously.

A warm hand stroked her cheek and then her hair. With a yearning sigh, she leaned into the touch, drawn to the comfort it offered. Lethargy flooded her body, and she went limp.

Ethan.

MARLENE was up early as was her habit. Too many years of herding kids where they needed to be and then off early to her own job as a schoolteacher. Frank wasn’t any different. He’d run the only hardware store in their small town for the last thirty years, and he opened up at seven A.M. six days a week, rain or shine.

She peeked in on Rusty, half-expecting to find her already gone, but what she found was a sound-asleep little girl, the covers pulled up to her nose. Marlene’s expression softened as she watched from the door. Whatever the girl’s situation, it wasn’t a happy one.

Quietly, she backed out of the bedroom and eased the door shut behind her. Then she headed downstairs to get a start on breakfast. She put the biscuits in the oven then started the bacon to frying and set the grits on to boil. One by one she cracked eggs and dropped them into a bowl.

It was strange not to have at least one of her boys sticking his head in on a Sunday morning. They were perpetually hungry, and Sundays were big breakfast days at the Kellys’. These days they stayed gone more than they were at home. Nathan and Joe were deployed overseas, and Sam, Garrett and Donovan always seemed to be off on some classified mission for KGI.

Ethan was the only one routinely at home. Until now. She sighed as she beat the eggs a little too vigorously. Ethan led such a quiet life after Rachel’s death. He withdrew from his family. The only time Frank saw him was when he showed up at the hardware store to help out, but even then he was reserved.

And now suddenly he was off on some mission with Sam? Something wasn’t right with that picture. “And don’t think I won’t find out what,” she muttered.

Those boys always thought they could pull one over on her, but not a one had ever managed to hide anything for long.

She looked up when she heard a sound at the stairs. Rusty stood there in Rachel’s jeans and T-shirt, her hair in disarray and a guarded expression on her face.

“Well good morning,” Marlene said cheerfully. “You hungry?”

Still eyeing Marlene cautiously, Rusty edged her way over to the bar. “I could eat.”

“Well good. Frank’ll be down shortly and we’ll have a nice meal.”

Rusty perched on the edge of a bar stool and watched as Marlene poured the eggs into a skillet. She turned the bacon and turned the heat down on the grits to let them simmer.

“I don’t like eggs.”

“I hate to hear that since that’s what I’m cooking. I expect you’ll eat them or go hungry.”

“Don’t you want to know when I’m leaving?” Rusty said in a belligerent tone.

“Since I haven’t asked you to leave, no.”

Rusty frowned and fidgeted on the stool. “So you don’t care if I stay?”

“I’m concerned that there are people worried about you. Seems to me you ought to let your folks know where you are at least.”

Rusty’s eyes iced over and her entire body stiffened. “I don’t have any folks. None that give a damn anyway.”

Marlene had figured as much, but she didn’t want to take this girl in if she had a family worried about her somewhere.

Just then Frank ambled down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stopped to drop a kiss on Marlene’s cheek before he turned to the bar. He eyed Rusty warily but took a seat without comment. Rusty didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat for him either.

They squared off like two cagey animals, each watching the other for any unexpected moves.

“So are you saying you want to stay?” Marlene asked casually.

Rusty scowled. “I didn’t say that.”

Marlene turned as she picked up the skillet and shoveled the eggs onto a plate. “Frank, will you get the biscuits please?”