The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection With EXCLUSIVE Post-Shiva Short Story (119 page)

His next admonishment would be to stop feeling sorry for herself—again, not going to happen—so instead, she did the next best thing and took stock of her assets.

Right now, standing in front of a demolished altar, she couldn’t think of any. Her groom was in the hands of the Disciples, the extreme religious organization who had nearly succeeded in killing them all earlier in the year.

Except, unlike most disappointed brides, she did have a crack Special Forces team on her side. She sniffled, pulling back in the tears. They also had a getaway driver equal to none other. These brave men hunted where others feared to tread. They had the skills. They just needed something to give them the speed.

And if the kidnappers were in fact the Disciples, they were going to have to move quickly. Because Brandt
had
to be alive. The religious fanatics had staged this kidnapping down to the smallest detail. They wanted Brandt for something. Even as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she couldn’t think of why.

It had been she and Bunny who had decoded the tablets that held the Ten Commandments and so much more. Why hadn’t the bastards taken either of them? Sure, the Disciples would want Brandt dead for the major blow he’d delivered them, but alive? His abduction made absolutely no sense.

Those thoughts could wait as the skies darkened above her.

A helicopter. Not the one with Brandt, but a helicopter nonetheless.

Davidson raised his gun, but Rebecca shoved the barrel down.

“It’s Lopez.”

The corporal must have tracked down the helicopter that had dropped the men off at the church in the first place. Or he stole one. Or a little elf delivered it to him. With Lopez, you were just never certain.

Ropes being flung out the sides confirmed her suspicion, though.

Lopez had gotten them the speed. Now they just needed to take advantage of it.

As sirens sped toward them, Rebecca gathered her skirt. Davidson put a hand up.

“I’m going,” Rebecca stated, daring him with her look to argue. Nothing could stop her from getting on that helicopter.

* * *

“Duh,” Davidson answered. “I’m helping you attach to the line.”

“Oh,” Rebecca demurred and accepted his help.

After he got the bride situated, he turned to Bunny, but she backed away.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her red curls loosening from the pins that tried to keep them contained. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

The other men secured their lines and zipped up toward the chopper. Davidson took Bunny’s hand.

“It’s all good,” Davidson said, cupping her face in his scarred palm. “I’m glad you are staying.”

Bunny cocked her head. “Don’t lie.”

She was right. His protective instincts should be taking over, wanting to keep her safe, but he couldn’t help himself. He was going to miss her.

“No one is going to blame you for staying behind.”

Snuffling back a tear, Bunny put her hand over his. “Like I said, don’t
lie
.”

Again, Bunny was correct. There was going to be some judgment about her bailing, but if Bunny’s heart wasn’t in it, there was no getting around that fact.

As police officers burst into the back of the church, Davidson kissed her gently on the lips. It was amazing how well the body could heal if given the right incentive. A few months ago, Davidson couldn’t feel the entire right side of his face.

Now? He enjoyed every moment of their PDA.

He didn’t want to break off the kiss, but they did have an audience. “They are going to want some answers.”

Bunny gave him a peck on the cheek. “Which I
can’t
give them. Don’t worry,” she said, shooing him away. “Go.”

Davidson grabbed ahold of the rope, wrapping it around his good wrist as the zip line jerked him upward. He watched his peach-colored girl as long as he could. She rushed forward, informing the cops that the men fleeing were not terrorists. Just as Lopez angled the helicopter away, Bunny looked up.

A sad smile on her face.

He would have smiled back if he hadn’t nearly been impaled on the huge cross that topped the church. The other men helped haul him up into the chopper as Lopez really lay on the throttle.

“Took you long enough,” Lopez grumbled.

Davidson ignored him and prepped his rifle. “Any luck?”

Lopez nodded. “Got a ping hauling ass north by northwest.”

“Wait,” Rebecca said over the roar of the rotors, “you mean we’ve got a location on Brandt?”

“
Had
,” Lopez corrected. “The ping was a few minutes ago.”

Rebecca looked from Lopez to Davidson. “What does that mean?”

Davidson encouraged Rebecca to sit down and strap in. “After our last mission, we all got fitted with intra-dental tracking devices.”

“That’s good,” Rebecca said, pushing her veil to the side. “That’s great, right? We can find him.”

He glanced to Lopez, though. It would be great if the signal were
continuous
.

“Only, we haven’t gotten anything since that original ping,” Lopez stated.

Rebecca tugged on Davidson’s tuxedo cuffs. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“The tracker requires kinetic movement for energy…”

The woman had three PhDs. She could easily piece together the scenario.

“So if the tracker isn’t transmitting, it means that Brandt isn’t moving,” Rebecca said in a rush as the helicopter veered to miss a high rise. “He must be unconscious again.”

“Or…” Davidson couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Or,” Rebecca finished his train of thought, “Brandt is dead.”

CHAPTER 3

══════════════════

Undisclosed Location

5:57 p.m. (EST)

Frellan leisurely studied the soldier curled up on the floor of the helicopter. The Master had made this man out to be nearly a god. The man who had stolen Moses’s tablets and destroyed God’s twin cities. Bringing their most vaulted warrior, Aunush, his sister, to her knees.

Though, he did not think it took a god to bring Aunush down. Though they had bathed in the same womb, they could not be more divergent. Aunush, since her first squall, had wished the world to know of her might. She had flaunted her elevated position and taken pride in her accomplishments, indulging in her passions.

Including the man who sat across from Frellan. Her sniper, Mikhal.

She had toyed with the sniper. Baiting him, thinking her sexual conquest would keep her safe. In the end, Mikhal had turned her into the Master. But how long had the sniper played both sides against one another? Had he truly brought Aunush to the Disciples out of duty or out of expedience? Had the sniper hedged his bets?

Whether or not Frellan trusted the sniper mattered not. Mikhal was a weapon. A very useful one if the reports from Aunush’s last operation were any indication. The only one to survive the encounter with Brandt and his team.

Frellan’s eyes scanned farther down the row of mercenaries, who sat stoically through the long flight, until he paused on Monnie’s face. Beautiful auburn eyes shone from a blemish-free mocha complexion. So young and tender to be a watcher.

However, after Nannan’s untimely death in Jordan, the young woman was the most studied of the watchers. Monnie was seeped in the Messiah’s prophecies. Not just the ones detailed in the Bible, but she was also well versed in the oral history from Moshe and Yoshua, carried down the line through the Disciples’ history.

Frellan had been reluctant to bring the young woman along, but the Master had overridden him. The Master was concerned that if this girl in the Congo truly was the Messiah, that she might be naive to her station, her power. Their savior might think herself just a scared little girl. It might be best to have someone on the team who wasn’t a mercenary forged by God’s will. A
feminine
touch.

Monnie must have felt his gaze upon her, as she looked up from the scroll she had been reading. He saw the flinch of fear in her eyes as she surveyed the many tattoos and body piercings that riddled his face. Frellan did not balk despite the disdain he found in her features.

While his sister’s life had been led in the light, Frellan’s had been spent in shadow. The only mark of his passing were those etched upon his skin. For every quest, every victory, every defeat was recorded in ink or steel.

Few had seen his face and lived to tell the tale.

Her eyes flickered back to her precious scroll.
That is right, child
, Frellan thought. His piercings had another purpose. Intimidation. If he would do such to himself, what might he do to an enemy? Or an ally who had disappointed him?

Frellan looked back down the row of the mercenaries. They, too, had deep ritual scars, but even they gave him a wide berth. He found Unugo, his second-in-command. The man sported a new spiked rod through his cheek, after they failed to obtain the information they needed in the Congo.

The piercing was a work of art, really.

It was not that Aunush and he did not share the same desires. That they did not both revel in creating, nurturing, and exploring pain. He’d just found a way to elevate his to beauty. Something God would smile down upon.

He wondered what he might do to this supposed god at his feet, Brandt. The man had been trained to withstand torture, but torture was not what Frellan employed. He made sure even if his subject survived his ministrations, they bore his mark for life. Would his woman want him then? Knowing what Frellan had done to him?

When his spleen poked out through his flank? Or a hooked bar pierced his member?

The thought of all that he could do to the paralyzed soldier aroused Frellan. He took a deep breath. His was to experience pleasure but to serve god. Especially with the Messiah’s appearance to be so close at hand.

This man-god’s gnats were in the air, searching for their lost leader.

Little did they know that the tablets were but one of many secrets the Disciples held. In many ways, the tablets, while holding the fascination of the Master and Aunush, were of little consequence. They held only the announcement of the female Messiah. They did not hold where or how she would come into the world.

The tablets might be lost again, but the Disciples’ purpose was redoubled.

Since the moment Aunush had sent word that the tablets were in play, Frellan had listened for the whispers in the night of the Messiah. Was she already born, or had she yet to be conceived? The Disciples must be the first to find her, bring her into their fold, so that she might be raised amongst the true Word.

Even in this modern age of computers and the Internet, combing through a world filled with nearly seven billion people was a laborious task. Then a scout assigned to shadow Brandt and his men had stumbled out of the Congo jungle, telling of a girl who could heal even the most mortal blow. A girl who Brandt had saved. A girl who he had personally seen to it had been secreted off, deep into the forest.

Did the soldier know whom he had come upon? Or was he as blind as he was impotent?

Many within the fold were shocked that this soldier might have been in contact with the possible Messiah. To Frellan, there was a perfect symmetry to their meeting. God, in His great wisdom, did not unfold his plan for all to see.

He lived in the shadows as did Frellan. But now, in this glorious age, it was time for both of them to taste the sun on their skin.

* * *

“You must have heard wrong,” Rebecca said, shaking her head so hard her neck muscles complained.

Still, Lopez lay off the throttle, banking them toward the north. “Nope,” the corporal said. “We have been ordered to stand down.”

“They want another team to take over the search?” Davidson asked, clearly as befuddled by the orders as Rebecca.

“Yep,” Lopez replied as they flew toward the Charleston Airport. They had stayed in the general vicinity of the abduction, awaiting another signal from Brandt. They needed to know in which direction to head, but nothing. Over an hour and nothing.

Rebecca really didn’t think that she had any more tears to shed, but moisture sprang to the ready. In disbelief, she watched as Lopez angled them toward the helipad of the airport, prepping them to land.

She looked to Davidson, but he just shrugged. “That’s brass for you.”

This couldn’t be happening. Brandt couldn’t be kidnapped. They couldn’t be losing control of the search. And what the hell was wrong with the men? Why weren’t they throwing a huge fit? Her own fists shook in quiet rage as her mind raced to find a way to convince the men to stay on the trail.

The only
huge
problem? That would require her to convince the men to disobey a direct order, not from Brandt, but from the Pentagon. At the least, that would be a court-martialed offense. At worst, it could be construed as treason punishable by death.

Words caught in her throat as Lopez lowered them to the large red-and-white helipad. Could she really ask that of them?

Um, as she stepped on her wedding dress and tore it, again,
hell yes
she could.

Lopez brushed past her as he exited the chopper. Rebecca was right on his tail. He was in charge. She had to convince him.

Rebecca placed an arm on his. “Ricky.”

The corporal seemed vaguely annoyed. Like her asking to save the man she loved to be a bother. “What?”

“We can’t just give up.”

Lopez cocked his head. “No kidding.” He turned to Davidson. “I’m guessing you are in.”

The younger man shrugged. “How much more trouble could I really get into?”

“Talli?” the corporal asked. After the sniper nodded, Lopez turned to the new point man, Levont. “You’ve only been with us a few months. No one will think you’re a bent helmet for waving this one off.”

“Are you kidding me?” Levont said with a broad smile. “I see this going down one of two ways.” The point man swung his assault rifle onto his shoulder. “One, you guys save the world,
again
. Or two, you go down in a flaming blaze of glory. Either way, I am
so
going to be there.”

Lopez put his hand over Rebecca’s. “So, little missy, if you aren’t too busy questioning our dedication, would you like to help me steal a plane?”