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  pulse. And then he shook the shock and utter confusion away and bolted into action. He yanked his cell phone up and quickly dialed 911.

  As he spoke with the dispatcher, providing his location and Gracie’s condition, he tried to make Gracie as comfortable as possible without moving her too much. The last thing he wanted was to cause her further harm by doing something careless.

  His call ended, and he tossed the phone down so he could focus more carefully on Gracie. He bent down and gathered her gently against his chest, hoping his body heat would offer her some respite from the damp chill. He tugged at the ropes that had cut into her wrists. Then he frowned when he felt the rough abrasions on her skin.

  She was so still. One could easily believe she was dead. Her breaths were so light that her chest barely made any movement at all. They were also shallow. He knew she needed oxygen and silently urged the ambulance to get there as fast as possible.

  When he’d arranged her head so that it wasn’t at such an awkward angle, he quickly assessed the rest of her body, his heart in his throat. Nothing looked broken, but how was he to know?

  And then something else caught his eyes. Something familiar. He went utterly still, his gaze fastening on the tag affixed to her toe. No. Oh hell no. There was no fucking way.

  An inarticulate sound of rage erupted from his throat as he ran his hand down her leg, checking for further injury before he carefully detached the tag from her toe. He was careful to only touch what was necessary and then he read the scrawled words, the now-familiar handwriting like salt poured on an already festering wound.

  This is what happens to people who get in our way.

  Son of a bitch! Gracie had been targeted because of him. He’d led the enemy straight to her! How could he have known?

  His entire body was flushed with heat—rage. His skin and heart burned with it.

  Months ago, they’d found another body with the same tag attached to the toe. Ari’s biological father. He hadn’t survived his beating. Would Gracie live?

  He closed his eyes, unable to even consider the possibility. Were his worst fears of what had happened to her twelve years ago being realized now?

  They had underestimated the enemy. Mistaken their silence and patience as them having given up. Now Zack realized that they’d simply been watching—and waiting—for the right moment to strike. To find a vulnerable target, since getting to Ramie and Ari, the two women married to brothers Caleb and Beau, would prove pretty damn difficult, given the fact that their husbands kept very close guard over the women they loved.

  Zack was assailed by the knowledge that, just as he’d failed Gracie twelve years ago, so too had he failed her now. He hadn’t even considered the risk of him seeking her out, doing nothing to cover his tracks. Never had he imagined the lengths this fanatical group would go to in their effort to strike back at DSS.

  This would kill Ari. She was so tenderhearted, and the idea that someone had been so grievously hurt because of her . . . Of course it wasn’t her fault. But she wouldn’t see it that way. All she would point out is that until she came into the picture there was no way for her past to touch DSS and those associated with it.

  With a curse he reached for his phone again. Where was the goddamn ambulance?

  He punched in Beau’s number, willing the other man to answer. He needed Beau to get the word out to the others. They weren’t safe. None of them were. Beau and Caleb would be pissed and they’d lock down their women so neither would be touched by violence ever again. They’d suffered far too much in their young lives. They’d seen more damage and hurt than any ten people would in their lifetimes.

  “Beau, we’ve got a problem,” Zack said grimly when the other man answered.

  “Talk,” Beau said, his tone immediately matching Zack’s.

  “They got to Gracie,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “The goddamn sons of bitches beat her.”

  “Whoa, back up. What the fuck?”

  Zack closed his eyes in relief when he heard the distant wail of a siren.

  “I’ve got to make this quick. The ambulance is almost here. The same people who beat Ari’s biological father to death, the ones who also tortured and killed her biological mother, got to Gracie. Same MO. I found her body outside my apartment. Tag attached to the toe with the same message.”

  There was a horrified silence and then Beau’s explosion of curses.

  “Is she alive?” Beau asked.

  “For now,” Zack choked out, nearly beside himself with worry and grief. “It’s bad, Beau. I don’t know how bad. But she’s breathing. For now. Look, I have to go, but you need to let the others know. And Lizzie. God. Make sure she watches her back. I was with her all night last night. They’re obviously keeping close watch or else how the hell would they tag Gracie so soon after I saw her? Call Dane. Make sure Lizzie is safe. And make damn sure Caleb knows so he can protect Ramie.”

  Zack hung up before Beau could respond. The ambulance was right outside his gate and he took his hand away from Gracie with a whispered plea. “Don’t give up, Gracie. Fight. You have to be all right. I can’t lose you again.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead and then surged to his feet so he could direct the medics to where Gracie lay.

  TEN

  ZACK paced the floor just outside the exam room they’d taken Gracie to. He’d firmly dug his heels in, refusing to leave her side until one of the nurses gently pointed out that they could do their job much quicker and more efficiently if he wasn’t in the way.

  Then she’d guided him to the door and told him he could return the minute the doctor finished his assessment and read the results of her lab tests and X-rays.

  He couldn’t even see inside, had no clue what was going on, and that sucked. What if she stopped breathing? What if she died, alone, with no one by her side to tell her she was loved?

  He leaned against the wall, rocking his head back to rest, and scrubbed his hands over his face for the third time. His eyes felt like sandpaper. There was a knot in his throat that refused to go away. He couldn’t speak more than a few words before his voice would break and then fall to an emotional, unintelligible tone.

  “Zack.”

  Zack looked up to see Beau and Caleb a few feet away in the hallway.

  “How is she?” Beau asked grimly as he and his brother approached.

  Zack threw up his hands in frustration. “I don’t know, damn it! They shoved me out of the room and told me to wait. That was fifteen fucking minutes ago.”

  Beau muttered under his breath and Caleb’s face was strained, his expression intense.

  Then realizing that the two men were here in front of him, alone, Zack yanked his head up. “Where are Ramie and Ari?” he demanded.

  “Safe,” Caleb bit out.

  “Ari wanted to come. She was horrified,” Beau said, anger etched on his face and in the twist of his lips. “She was crying when I left her. Jesus. I can’t believe those motherfuckers would beat an innocent woman to prove some goddamn point. And what point?”

  Caleb shook his head in disgust.

  “It’s not her fault,” Zack said fiercely. “It’s mine and mine alone.”

  “Bullshit,” Beau said. “It’s not her fault and it’s certainly not yours.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Caleb said. “We have to move forward and we’re going to have to take a more aggressive stance with these fuckers. I—we—all thought they were no longer an issue. They haven’t reared their heads since everything that went down with Ari. I shouldn’t have let it go but I just wanted us all to be able to put it behind us. Especially Ari. But now we’re going to have to switch tactics and go on the aggressive.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Beau said. “We need to hunt these assholes down and let them see what it feels like to be used as a punching bag. Jesus. It turns my stomach to think of at least two women they’ve beaten. One of them was killed!”

  Zack shuddered, his hands shaking. He curled his finge
rs into tight balls to alleviate the twitch but he couldn’t prevent the image of Gracie’s bruised, battered body from hurling through his mind.

  “I’ve already put Dane on it,” Caleb continued. “Every single man employed by DSS is being put on this job. This agency’s soul focus will be on locating and taking down every single person who had a hand in this. It is our only priority.”

  “Thank you,” Zack said.

  Beau hesitated, searching Zack’s expression for . . .? Zack wasn’t sure, but uncertainty shone in Beau’s solemn gaze.

  “What?” Zack asked.

  “Were you able to work things out. Before . . .” Beau broke off and lifted his hand toward the door to indicate Gracie.

  “No,” Zack whispered. “I went out for a run. I don’t normally run as far. God, I wish I hadn’t. If I’d gotten home sooner maybe I would have caught the fuckers. And she wouldn’t have lain out there in the cold for God knows how long.”

  “She was just lying there when you got back?” Caleb asked.

  Zack nodded. “My gate’s security pad wasn’t working. But the gate was open. The outside motion-activated lights didn’t work either. When I got to the steps, I saw her on the ground out of the corner of my eye. They just left her there to die!”

  “Does your apartment complex have security cameras?” Beau asked.

  Zack nodded.

  “I’ll get Dane over there to pull what he can. Maybe one of the cameras caught the assholes and we can get an image,” Caleb said.

  “I bagged the tag,” Zack said. “I tried to touch it as little as possible. Maybe we can get a print.”

  Beau nodded. “We’re reporting this, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Zack said firmly. “I’ll take all the help we can get. I want these fuckers, Beau. I don’t care what we have to do in order to nail their asses to the wall, but I want their goddamn blood.”

  “Don’t blame you,” Caleb said softly. “If it were Ramie . . .” He shook his head.

  Beau’s expression tightened and rage glowed in his eyes. “It was Ari not too long ago and now it’s Gracie. Fuck this. I’m with you, Zack. I want their asses and I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to take them out. But I think we go with Briggs and Ramirez. This may very well be out of their jurisdiction, but they’re the only two I trust on this and they know the history.”

  Zack nodded his agreement. The two detectives had worked with them before and were familiar with the oddities that accompanied DSS’s many jobs. They wouldn’t be met with skepticism over some freakish story about a group of fanatics who targeted anyone they deemed as a threat to their “cause.” Some fucking cause.

  The door to Gracie’s room opened and Zack surged forward, every muscle in his body coiled tight. He held his breath, barely able to speak through numb lips.

  “How is she?” he demanded.

  The nurse smiled at him. “The doctor will be out shortly to discuss her condition, but she’s going to be okay. Nothing life threatening.”

  Zack closed his eyes. He staggered with relief and for a moment he weaved, unsteady on his feet. “Thank God,” he whispered.

  “Easy there, man,” Beau murmured, grabbing Zack’s arm to steady him.

  “Can I be with her now? I don’t want her to be alone when she wakes.

  The nurse’s eyes softened. “Of course. After the doctor comes out and discusses her condition, you can go in. She’s woozy and confused though.”

  “Why?” Zack instantly demanded.

  The nurse held up a hand. “It’s to be expected. She awoke in awful pain so we administered IV medication to make her more comfortable.”

  “So she doesn’t have a head injury?” Zack asked hesitantly.

  “I’ll let the doctor bring you up to speed on that,” she said. “Oh look, here he is now.”

  She stepped away from the door so the doctor had room to get through. Then she hurried away, saying she’d return shortly to check on Gracie.

  All three men focused intently on the doctor and some of what they were feeling must have shown on their faces because the doctor hesitated and took a step back, his expression wary.

  “How is she?” Zack asked anxiously.

  “She’s undergone extensive trauma over ninety percent of her body.”

  “Jesus,” Caleb muttered.

  Beau swore and Zack clenched his fingers into fists at his sides.

  “How bad is it?” Zack asked in a low voice.

  The doctor grimaced. “She has a few broken ribs but fortunately she didn’t puncture a lung or another vital organ. As odd as this may sound, the beating appeared to be calculated. As though her attacker intended to do as much damage as possible without her sustaining any mortal injuries. Because as I said she sustained bruising to ninety percent of her body and yet apart from the cracked ribs she has no other broken bones. But some of the bruises are deep and will require careful attention while she’s recovering. She needs to be on strict bed rest for a few days and I can’t stress this enough. She needs to limit her movement to only what is necessary. Someone needs to be with her when she showers or bathes. And she has to take her recovery slowly. There’s no rushing this and no shortcuts. Her body needs time to heal. Period.”

  “She won’t lift a finger,” Zack vowed.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “I assume the authorities have been contacted? By law we have to report any crime, suspected or real.”

  “They’re on their way,” Zack said. “My first priority was getting her to the hospital.”

  The doctor nodded. “You did the right thing.”

  “Can I see her now?” Zack asked anxiously.

  The doctor nodded again. But as Zack started to pass him he stopped him momentarily.

  “She must take her recuperation seriously. This isn’t something that will go away overnight. She’s going to hurt very badly for the first several days. It’s imperative that she not suffer any emotional or physical upset during this time. And if I were you, I’d seek out professional counseling for her. After an attack, a common reaction is denial or the victim just wanting to forget about it and make it go away. That’s not healthy and it won’t work. You may have to push her and she likely won’t thank you for it at first, but she needs to accept and work her way through what happened to her.”

  “I understand,” Zack said quietly. “I appreciate your efforts, Doctor. And rest assured, she will not have to do anything other than rest and get to feeling better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. And I dearly hope whoever did this to her is arrested immediately.”

  The doctor’s expression grew fierce as he said the last and anger blazed in his eyes.

  “I’ve been a doctor for twenty years and no matter how many times you think you’ve seen it all and can’t possibly be shocked by what comes through the ER, there’s always another case that leaves me shaking my head and wondering what kind of scum gets his rocks off by beating an innocent woman. Especially in the manner that Miss Hill was. I have no doubt this was a well-measured attack meant to do as much harm as possible without killing her.”

  “We know,” Beau said in a savage tone. “And the bastards who did this to her will pay. You can take that to the bank.”

  “Good,” the doctor said emphatically. “Now I’ll let you see Miss Hill. I’d like to admit her for observation and keep her at least forty-eight hours before I release her. She’ll be moved up to the floor when her room is ready and she’s admitted. Do you happen to have her insurance information? The admitting nurse will need that and her other personal information as well.”

  Zack hesitated because he didn’t know anything about Gracie. He knew everything and nothing, or at least what used to be. Who was Gracie now? The last forty-eight hours had shattered any illusions he’d had.

  “It will be taken care of,” Beau interjected.

  The doctor nodded and then stepped away from the door to let Zack pass.

  Zack sucked in a deep breath, squared
his shoulders and braced himself before walking into the room.

  He let out a strangled cry when he saw Gracie lying on the bed, eyes closed but her forehead marred with pain, her features tight and her lips firm in a thin white line. Even at rest, she looked as though she were in horrible pain.

  How scared she must have been. If the doctor was right—and Zack had no doubt that he was—she had endured a cold, methodical beating. It hadn’t been done in a rage. No, it had been administered impersonally. She’d been a job to someone. Nothing more.

  But she hadn’t known that. How long had she endured the pain? Had she been scared to death they’d eventually get bored and then kill her? Had she prayed for death? God, he hoped not.

  He approached the bed hesitantly, his gaze anxiously searching the monitors and instruments. She was being given oxygen but there was no heart monitor. That had to be a positive sign that they weren’t concerned she’d die. But then the doctor had said she’d be fine. Just in pain. That she needed to take it very easy. That was one vow he’d absolutely meant.

  When she was discharged, she was going home with him. But not back to his current place. Not with those bastards still out there, circling like vultures. Her beating had been a message. To him. To DSS. His mind was already going full gear. He would have Beau find a secure location for him to move Gracie to. And security would be top-notch.

  He eased his way to the head of the bed, careful not to wake her. For a long moment he stood, drinking in her fragile appearance. His heart ached. His chest was tight with discomfort.

  He leaned down, cupping his hand over her brow, one of the few places left untouched by her attackers. Gently he rubbed his thumb over the bridge of her nose, wincing as he took in the extent of her facial bruising.

  God, he wanted to kill those bastards for touching her. For laying their hands on what was his. Gracie had always belonged to him. The last twelve years no longer mattered. She was here now. And if he had his way, she’d never go anywhere else.

  He lowered his head to press his lips against her brow. He closed his eyes as his breath blew warm against her skin.

  “I’m so sorry, Gracie,” he said bleakly. “God, I’m so sorry.”

  She stirred slightly and he quickly lifted his head, his gaze anxious. He held his breath when her eyelids flickered and then opened.

  She blinked a few times, her face crinkling in confusion. And then she let out a low moan and tried to lift her head from the pillow. Her arms flailed out in a defensive gesture and more sounds of fear and desperation spilled from swollen lips.

  “Gracie. Gracie, honey, you’re all right. It’s me, Zack.”

  She went utterly still and if possible she grew even whiter beneath the purple of bruises. Her head swiveled so that her gaze locked with his.

  Terror swept through her eyes and her lips parted and then shut repeatedly as though fear had robbed her of speech.

  Zack ran his hand lightly down her arm to where the IV attached at her wrist. He flinched when she withdrew so quickly it pained her. She emitted a soundless cry, hurt flashing in her eyes.

  What the fuck?

  He managed to keep the frown from his face. Barely. It took everything he had to stand there and take her response. If it had only been now he could understand. It was understandable for a woman who’d been attacked to have an instinctual defensive response. To be afraid.

  But it wasn’t just now. It wasn’t because she’d been attacked. She’d reacted the same way on the two other occasions they’d come into contact. Like he was some kind of monster. She hadn’t merely been surprised or afraid. She’d been fucking terrified. Of him!

  “Do you remember what happened?” he asked softly, ignoring, for now, her fear of him.

  She let out a small, defeated whimper. The sound nearly slayed him. He reached behind him to snag the lone chair, pulling it toward the bed so he could sit. So he didn’t loom over her and frighten her more.

  She visibly swallowed and then licked her lips.

  “Would you like some water?”

  For a moment she just stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Then, slowly, she nodded. She kept her frozen gaze on him the entire time as he stood, went to the sink and ran water in one of the small cups.

  He walked back to the bed, and holding the cup with one hand, he carefully slid his free arm behind her neck and lifted just enough that she could sip without spilling it on herself.

  She took several long swallows and then broke away, coughing. Her face spasmed with agony and her arm went instinctively to her stomach, to her injured ribs, holding it while she tried to suppress the cough.

  “Easy,” he murmured, easing her head back down.

  As he turned away, he saw that both hands were curled into tight fists, the backs of her knuckles completely white with strain.