Shadow: A Linear Tactical Romantic Suspense Standalone, page 23
Heath did it, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference in what was happening to Lyn.
“You’re going to have to put more pressure, Heath,” Annie told him. “Like that pulse is a flame and you’ve got to put it out with your fingers before it spreads and burns everything down with it.”
Meaning was clear: get this under control before it became deadly.
Heath put the phone down so he could hold the other side of Lyn’s head and put more pressure on the carotid sinus. “C’mon, Almost. I need that heart of yours. Mine isn’t going to make it without yours next to it.”
Her hand reached up and wrapped around his, squeezing slightly.
“C’mon, Lyn. You’re a fighter. You fight this with me.”
He panicked for a second as her pulse weakened under his fingers, afraid he was losing her. But her grip on his other hand, despite whatever had happened to her pinky, was firm.
Her pulse was slowing, not stopping.
He looked down at Annie’s concerned face on his screen. “I think it’s working. Her pulse is slowing.”
“Good. That’s good. She still needs to go to the hospital right away, but she’s okay for now.”
He looked down into Lyn’s brown eyes. “You hear that? You’re going to be okay. Orders from a full doctor, not an almost doctor. So it’s true.”
She gave him a ghost of a smile, the panicked oh-God-I-can’t-breathe look gone from her face. “Help. Jenna.”
“I don’t need help,” the bloody woman next to them said without even picking herself up off the ground. “That bastard can’t kill me. I won’t allow it.”
Heath smiled at the woman. “Your brother has been looking for you for a long time, Ms. Franklin. He’s busy making sure they put an end to all of Garrison’s operations, but he’s going to be overjoyed to know you’re alive.”
They could hear the sirens in the distance.
“Ray, how’s Noah?”
“Grazed him in the head. Bleeding like a stuck pig, and he’s out cold, but with medical arriving right now, he’ll live.”
“You need to get out of here.” The fact that she had stayed this long after what she’d been through was a testament to her bravery. “You’ve done your part.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do more.”
“You came when we needed you. That’s plenty.”
Ray stood up and looked at Garrison’s body. “This is really it, isn’t it? Crypt, the brainwashing, the sleeper missions . . . it all dies with him.”
She fingered the headphones around her neck.
“Yes, it does. I don’t think you’re going to need those anymore. Nobody can ever control you against your will again.”
“Yeah.”
But she didn’t take them off. Only time would heal that wound.
Without another word, Ray was gone, moving silently out of the house.
The sirens were closer now. He realized he still had his finger on the pulse at Lyn’s neck, her hand still wrapped over his. Her eyes were closed, but her heartbeat was steady.
That heartbeat was everything to him. There was no way he could live without it now.
EPILOGUE
One year later.
Heath carried a man purse with him everywhere he went.
The murse, all the Linear guys had nicknamed it. Always with a laugh.
Heath didn’t care.
He’d had it for a full year, since the morning he’d received a crash course on carotid sinus massage over the phone in a basement room.
Lyn had been in the hospital for four days. It had taken both electrical and chemical cardioversion to get her heart beating a normal pace again, and it had been touch and go for longer than Heath’s own heart had been able to handle.
Sitting by her side at the hospital, mostly while she rested and the doctors monitored every breath and heartbeat, he’d researched everything he could about Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome. The doctors and nurses, and Lyn’s family—including Noah who had been recuperating in the same hospital and was now fully recovered—had been tired of his questions by the time Lyn’s hospital stay was over.
Her heart had taken a hard hit during the twenty-four hours she’d been in Garrison’s clutches. The terror, the pain—a broken rib, pinky, and significant bruising and abrasions to her face—along with not having any medication available, had put stress on her heart that her family had been trying to help her avoid her whole life.
But Lyn had survived. Because her physical heart might not be strong, but her will, her zeal, her fervor for life?
None of those were giving up so easily.
Still, every day for a year Heath had carried around a small, portable defibrillator in the murse.
Because the carotid massage shouldn’t have been enough that day in Garrison’s basement. All the doctors had said so. And more importantly, no matter how strong Lyn’s fervor or zeal, another episode like that and all the vagal maneuvers in the world wouldn’t be enough. And if a defibrillator wasn’t nearby, that might be it for Lyn.
So he would carry one wherever he went with her. He hardly noticed it anymore.
Just like his gibberish. It was still there in his head all the time, but easier to deal with and ignore now that he could actually assign meaning to the sounds. When Lyn had explained all of what was inside his brain—not only the co-ordinates to Garrison’s facilities but the formula for the synthetic neural inhibitor itself—Heath could hardly believe it.
No wonder Holloman had referred to Heath as his insurance. What was in Heath’s mind had been of utmost importance to Project Crypt’s success, or whatever Garrison wanted to call the new version. And Holloman had thought he was the only one who could access the information.
He obviously hadn’t been counting on someone with Lyn’s intelligence and expertise.
But Heath was free now. The gibberish may continue, but he could control the volume rather than it controlling him. For the first time in his adult life, he was able to go wherever he wanted with no need to look over his shoulder.
Which had brought him here to Egypt where Lyn was about to start her new job with the Center for Ancient Languages.
He came up behind her as she put the finishing touches on her makeup in the bathroom mirror of the apartment they’d moved into two weeks ago. “You almost ready? Don’t want to be late on your official first day.”
She practically glowed. “Yes. I can’t believe I’m actually starting today. It’s been such a whirlwind.”
No one deserved this opportunity more than her. She had saved Jenna’s life and her own.
The raids on the medical facilities had been a success. Relatively little loss of life, Adil Garrison notwithstanding, and multiple innocent people rescued.
The FBI had owed Craig Franklin a pretty damn big apology and offered him his job back with full privileges.
An invitation that he’d promptly told them to stuff up their ass. He’d quit so he could take care of his sister.
“Jenna emailed me this morning—or, last night for her—to wish me luck.” Lyn stroked a little mascara on her eyelashes. “She’s been doing better. Teaching computer classes at an elementary school.”
Heath kissed the top of her head. “Good.” The two women had remained friends and talked nearly every day.
“Dad and The Brothers checked in on me too. Again.” She rolled her eyes. “Sakhif idiots.”
He smiled at the gentle Arabic curse. “You were expecting that.”
She grinned up at him. “Of course. I’m a little surprised they’re not here now.”
Actually, Tristan, one of the twins, was here in Egypt. At least for a couple more days. And he was only leaving because Heath had discovered him tailing them over the past week and threatened to tell Lyn.
Heath had to chuckle when Tristan backed down at the threat.
They were all a little afraid of feisty Lyn now. She wasn’t going out of her way to protect their feelings anymore when it came to living her life. She wasn’t accepting limits any longer just because someone tried to tell her she should.
Her game. Her rules.
God, he loved this woman.
He reached over and grabbed her wrist, bringing it up to his lips. He could see the faint marks on her skin left there from when she’d asked him to tie her hands to the headboard this morning.
If he had the rest of his life with her—and he planned to—he was never going to get tired of her.
“Your first day too.” She met his eyes in the mirror.
He’d accepted a job running security for a company here in Cairo. One that happened to be in the same building where she worked. The position would be challenging and a good utilization of his skills.
But hell, he would’ve worked as a janitor if it meant being near her.
“I know. I’m excited.”
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Heath Kavanaugh. I know this isn’t where you thought you’d be. I know you were ready to put down roots in Oak Creek.”
He kissed her plump lips. “Oak Creek and Linear Tactical will still be there if we decide we want to go back that way. Loving you means more to me than any place or job.”
Her smile took his breath away. It was always going to take his breath away. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For carrying the murse around. And for telling Tristan to get lost when he showed up here last week.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? I—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I was raised surrounded by all things law enforcement. Please remind my family of that next time they think they can get away with something without me noticing.”
“Yes, Doc.” He couldn’t even call her Almost anymore since she’d gotten her PhD.
“But mostly, thank you for being the caretaker of my heart. In all the possible ways a heart can be cared for.”
“Always.” He pulled her all the way against him.
And knew their hearts beat as one.
***
Thank you for reading SHADOW! The Linear Tactical series continues with Peyton and Cade’s breathtaking story in ECHO.
Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places.
Get ECHO here.
And did you miss Ray and Dorian’s heartbreaking story of love’s redemptive power in GHOST?
This USA Today bestselling book available now.
Get it here!
Other Linear Tactical books AVAILABLE NOW:
CYCLONE
He’d protect her from any threat…
But what if the biggest threat is him?
EAGLE
He’s fighting for what’s right.
She’s fighting just to survive…
SHAMROCK
Every mission has a price.
He never meant for her to pay it.
ANGEL
Even angels have their demons.
Keep reading for sample chapters from Ghost (Dorian & Ray), Cyclone (Zac & Annie) and Shamrock (Aiden & Violet).
Linear Tactical: The strongest fall the hardest.
GHOST - SNEAK PEEK
Ghost – Ch 1
Dorian Lindstrom stood in the icy sleet of a freak March Wyoming storm.
Thundersnow. When Mother Nature couldn’t decide what the hell she wanted to do, she did everything: snow, rain, lightning.
Nobody in their right mind would be standing out here in it.
Dorian hadn’t been in his right mind for some time. For the six years since he’d gotten out of an Afghani prison, to be exact.
But the good thing about being tortured within inches of your life? Standing out in the middle of a balls-to-the-wall storm didn’t faze you in the slightest.
Especially when you were on the hunt for someone threatening your family. Or at least the only family Dorian had left.
Not many people were stupid enough to threaten the men of Linear Tactical, especially on their home turf in the mountains of western Wyoming.
Their years as US Army Green Berets had trained them to adapt, defend, and survive almost every type of situation. Then they’d left active duty and started their own self-defense, weapons, and wilderness survival training facility for civilians.
So if someone was brilliant enough to think it was a good idea to come after the men of LT—or their loved ones—they’d better have a damned good plan.
Dorian wasn’t sure the people he was currently watching for in this crazy-ass storm had any plan at all, much less a good one.
He knew his enemy today, and he wasn’t afraid of them or any attack they might make. Dorian would prefer a straight-up fight, but these guys weren’t going to give it to him. They’d already shown their true colors by bullying a woman who lived alone as well as cutting the brake lines of a Linear guy’s fiancée today. Pregnant fiancée.
Whether the dumbasses knew it or not, they’d sealed their fate the moment their razor had touched that hose.
With this storm, and until Dorian and his team could hunt down the people responsible, the Linear guys were taking the tactically smart approach: a united front. They were keeping the people who meant the most to them together inside Finn Bollinger’s house where the team could keep them safe.
Dorian had volunteered to take watch outside. Nobody had been surprised by that. Everyone knew Dorian didn’t do crowds. Even friendly ones.
But as much as he was spoiling for a fight, there had been no sign of a threat out here besides the storm itself. There was nobody out here. Nobody—especially not people with the limited skill level of these guys—got past Dorian in the wilderness.
And he wasn’t the only one keeping watch. There were another half dozen men associated with Linear in vehicles around the perimeter of the house. Some military trained, some not, but all able to handle themselves.
Three of Dorian’s closest friends—brothers in every way but blood—had the women they loved inside Finn’s house for protection.
This was his family. They had helped him pick up his pieces six years ago when there hadn’t been many pieces left to actually pick up. And they continued to help him pick them up every time he broke apart.
He would die for them. Kill for them.
But he wouldn’t have to tonight. There was no threat to his family out here right now. Another wide circle around the perimeter of the house confirmed that.
Perhaps the friendly neighborhood idiots had come to their senses and realized an attack would be a suicide mission. More likely, they were cowards and planned to strike when their targets were more vulnerable.
There was no sign of a threat here. No sign of anything but a winter hurricane. Dorian ought to move inside too. The guys in the cars could keep watch, and he could come back out every hour or so.
Doran knew these woods, had spent days—weeks—in the surrounding wilderness. The people who had targeted Charlotte’s brakes had been careless enough to leave traces behind. There was no way anyone that sloppy was in these woods tonight.
Nobody was in these woods but him.
Yet his eyes were in constant motion, surveilling the woods around him even when he sensed nothing.
Because he felt it.
Felt it again, damn it.
Felt her.
He stopped suddenly, crouching down. He’d had that being-watched feeling on and off for weeks. There was no danger to his friends out here, but was there danger to him?
Was there a literal ghost—Wraith—out there? Or was his mind playing tricks on him again?
What Dorian had lived through would’ve killed most men. But there had been a price for that survival. Reality sometimes became fuzzy.
In this case, the dead coming back to life.
Grace Brandt, codename Wraith, had died a little over six years ago. He’d seen her die in an explosion no one could’ve survived. He’d been captured and subsequently tortured for forty-one days because he’d been so distracted by her death.
Her being alive was impossible. Her being in the tiny town of Oak Creek, Wyoming, in the middle of a thundering snowstorm, was beyond impossible.
But this wasn’t the first time he could’ve sworn he’d felt her presence recently. He’d always been able to feel their connection when Grace was near.
He ran a gloved hand across his forehead. His mind sometimes couldn’t be trusted.
Hundreds of hours with his psychiatrist, Dr. Diaz, had finally enabled him to say that out loud.
So he said it now. “My mind sometimes can’t be trusted.”
God, it sucked to say that. Even worse, it sucked to know it was true. That his body had come out of forty-one days of torture and eventually healed. His mind . . . well, some days were better than others.
Evidently, this wasn’t one of the good days if he thought a dead woman was nearby. He stood back up and walked toward the house. There was no way Wraith was alive.
“My mind sometimes can’t be—”
His senses picked up on the arrow a split second before it struck him in the waist from behind. He let out a mostly silent curse before dropping low behind a tree, ignoring the pain.
He’d been shot with a damn quarrel. There was a reason he knew what the short arrow used in a crossbow was called.
Because it had been Wraith’s weapon of choice. Had been for all the years he’d known her.
He didn’t touch the bolt—another name for it. He got into position in the cover of the trees and pulled his riflescope up to his eye.
Nothing.
Even knowing exactly where the shot had to have come from, he saw nothing. This crazy-ass blizzard didn’t help.
Phasing out the pain, he kept his sights on the area in front of him, keeping his head down as much as possible, waiting to see what other attack would come.
None did. Minute after minute . . . nothing.
One perfect quarrel shot had struck his body, letting him know he wasn’t alone but without doing any true damage.
And it had come from someone good enough to stalk these woods without his knowledge.
There were very few people in the world who could accomplish the latter. Even fewer who could accomplish the former.
