Chapter 18
Euan
The rain had stopped. A tiny fire flickered and wavered. Wet wood cracked, popped and hissed as it dried, to be consumed by the flames. Darkness surrounded him, the night all-encompassing. Euan had stopped only because he could no longer see his way. But he used the time wisely.
Cleaning tools for his Glock lay in pieces by his feet on a waterproof poncho he had used to keep the rain off his shoulders. He slipped the brass cleaning rod into the barrel with caution, any nick or ding could impact the accuracy of the weapon. Euan was exceedingly careful.
The sliver of sound as the rod moved in and out of the bore was comforting. So were the items he used. A cleaning brush, cotton patches, solvent, degreaser, lubricant and protectant were going to ensure that the weapon he held in his hands was a perfect killing machine.
Six gunshots today. What that meant, who had shot them or their consequences were unknown. The sounds, his hesitation, the shot of adrenaline, the decision not to investigate and to continue forward played havoc on his mind. They repeated, over and over, until he questioned everything, and knew nothing.
He had to trust in Nicky. Trust that he would see his end complete. There was a whisper of thought that maybe he had saved her, or that Kira had somehow managed to acquire a weapon and obliterate her captors. That they were together, bundled up, close to a fire like his own, sleeping off the terrors that the daytime had brought, only a few leagues from his arms.
Or maybe they were both dead.
Euan shook his head to dislodge that thought. But its claws were embedded deep. It slithered through his mind, curled around his conscience and rested there.
Christ, if they were dead …
A twig snapped. In an instant, he held the empty gun to the darkness.
Silence. Blackness. An eerie stillness that did nothing to settle Euan’s nerves.
He rolled to his knees, his eye scanned the trees. Their trunks glowed gold, their bark and branches threw shadows. The grass at their base whispered and wavered with a soundless wind.
Then, he appeared.
A monster loomed out of the dark. A body that could shoulder eternity, broad, strong, indestructible. Eyes as black as coal glinted with the flames. A clean-shaven jaw, hair that was cropped to the scalp. Clothing that mirrored Euan’s.
A scar that ruined a top lip.
Matthew Knight.
Euan was on his feet as Knight moved forward. In two steps, they were in each other’s arms. Masculine grunts accompanied rough backslaps. A grip so tight that breath was impossible. The emotion was there, squashed between them. They hovered, just a moment, to savour the pain of loss and the beauty of being found.
‘Never thought I’d see you again, McKay.’
Knight’s words were rough in his ear, hoarse with sentiment. Euan had to clear his throat before he could return the greeting. ‘Hell has met its quota.’
A snort and Knight pulled back. His eyes scanned Euan’s face before he looked over his shoulder. When the crease in his brow deepened, Euan said the words that choked his heart. ‘They have her. Snatched her right out from under us. Nick is following them. I came to find you.’
A hard grip encased his upper arms. Elbows locked, Knight leaned back. His eyes were pits of despair. ‘Fuck.’
The tone echoed what was in Euan’s heart, the dread that made his chest ache, his muscles quiver, his damn eye blink. Fuck was an understatement. If Knight voiced Euan’s greatest fear, he’d vomit.
They stayed that way, locked in a masculine embrace. Movement was not required. Not right now. They drew strength from one another. Two men that regularly shouldered the burden of leadership, that understood the perils and pain of when they failed in that decisive role.
Euan took a breath, moved out of Knight’s clinch and bent to pack the items he’d used to clean his gun. His voice was full of dread when he asked. ‘Mickey-O?’
His back to the powerhouse, Euan didn’t see the flinch, but he felt it. Loss, torment, fear. Sentiment and feeling flared. In a moment, all the anxiety of a future without sunlight in it evaporated.
Euan looked over his shoulder. Knight shook his head.
Euan nodded. ‘Tell me.’
Knight moved to sit by the fire. The red light highlighted what Euan did not at first see. Mud, dust, blood. His hands were yellow with sandy powder. Euan immediately recognised what it was.
The dust that coated a man’s hands when he dug a grave.
Black eyes stared unblinkingly into an orange flame. ‘Most are gone. You’re one of seven that survived. Nine, if Nick and Kira still live. At least that’s the number that we’ve found, or have found us.’
The strength left him. Euan went to his knees at the opposing side of the fire. His hand that held the gun was loose at his side. The other rubbed the bearded skin at his jaw. Nine? There had been scores. Christ, the loss, the destruction. This was humanity’s second chance, and they destroyed each other as though they were rabid dogs in a fighting pit built by Hades.
The gun was placed on the plastic poncho. Euan rested both hands on his knees. He lifted his gaze and waited until Knight did the same. When black met brown Euan found his voice. ‘Lily?’
The breath that left Knight was long. Euan braced until a tiny smile finally stretched hard lips. ‘Mickey-O’s truck exploded. We were hammered by the heat and the smoke. I couldn’t see, my ears rang. I thought we would suffocate in that black cloud.’ Dark eyes glinted. ‘Next thing I know, she’s stolen my gun, has the window down and is firing into the smoke. I put my foot down as she used half our ammo in that thirty seconds. It got us out though, and free.
