VN2
by Gwenna Sebastian
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
VN2
Copyright© 2011 Gwenna Sebastian
Published by Breathless Press at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-926930-67-1
Cover Artist: Victoria Miller
Editor: Veronica Swift
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in
print without written permission, except in the case of brief
quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
Dedication
To
Tara B, who let me play in her sandbox. Without her, there would be
no Nate and Ian and the world that is VN2.
Acknowledgements
There are a lot of people who have seen me through this rather long journey to complete VN2. My cheering gallery that includes Kathy P, Diane, Morgan and certainly Tara. My editor, Veronica, who wanted this manuscript before it was even finished. This is my second journey with her and I remain thankful for being able to trust that I was in good hands. Most importantly, Melanie, who has been on this ride with me from the first word to the last. Her support never wavered nor her belief that I would, one day, finish this story. I couldn’t do any of this without her.
Echo Team
Colonel Morgan Daniels
Sergeant Nathan (Nate) Williams
Lieutenant Ian Davidson
Lieutenant Sean Dunn
Doc (Cal) Callahan
Specialist Rory Collins
Specialist Alejandro (Ali) Martin
Specialist Scott Simmons
Specialist Noah Morris
Tobey Flannigan
Tyler Flannigan
Chapter One
The room was small, barely big enough for the narrow bed and uncomfortable chair crammed into the back corner. Lieutenant Ian Davidson stared at it as he stood in the doorway. Behind him, the transfer station crowds streamed past in a blur of sounds and color. These cells were soundproof, once you shut the damned door.
Running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself, Ian finally stepped in and then kicked the door shut. The noise dampened to a distant growl. The room’s walls seem to close in around him, the overhead light bright and glaring. He dumped his small duffle on the floor by the chair, switched off the light and threw himself on the bed, draping an arm over his eyes.
The room did a decent job of shutting the station out but nothing stopped the dull and constant roar of voices in Ian’s head. A headache throbbed behind his eyes as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was supposed to be here, but only long enough to transfer to another shuttle that would take him to a new post. A post that would have a small staff on a distant backwater world where he could get away from his damned father.
The old man would be furious when he found out, the controlling bastard. This was not a post that would put Ian in line to move up the ladder of command or to be noticed. He’d be nothing at this distant outpost, even forgotten.
Ian couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. The only string attached was he had to agree to a minimum of four years. Placing officers in such an out of the way outpost wasn’t easy, they told him. Ian didn’t even blink. He’d have signed on for ten years if that was the deal.
But he wasn’t there yet. Instead, the shuttle he arrived on was way overdue and he missed the last connection he could make. Now he was here for the next ten hours, cooling his heels in a sleeping cell that felt more confining by the minute.
Crowds agitated him. The noise they created in his head pushed him to the edge of his resources. He was used to the constant headaches, used to the never-ending pain; it was something to endure. No use complaining. But when the noise and headaches threatened to drown him, he did the one thing he knew would help. He got drunk.
Ian sat up, his head throbbing, his mind filled with the noise. There was no way he would survive almost ten hours of this without something to take the edge off. There was no alcohol to be had in the Transfer Center, only a small eatery. Ian wasn’t hungry. He was tired, edgy and in pain.
He climbed to his feet and the small room, the much-too-small room tipped and shimmied around him until he centered his balance. He palmed the light back on and winced back from it, the pain lancing through his head like a dull knife.
He’d been warned that the levels below belonged to the Regulars. A couple thousand ground pounders on a sanctioned bender of sex, gambling and alcohol. Officers, especially young junior officers like him, would be asking for trouble if they went below. Ian thought about the warning given by the sergeant, who cast him only a cursory glance as he assigned Ian the cell and got him a seat on the next available shuttle.
The noise filled his head, thousands of voices all threatening to tear him apart. Under that, under the increasing pain of the headache, something else almost seemed to whisper and nudge at him. Fuck it. There was no way he could manage this unless at the bottom of a bottle. How much trouble could it be to simply go to the first bar he found, buy a bottle and then come right back up here? Seriously.
Decision made, Ian pocketed the key card, flipped off the lights and left the tiny room. The entire trip wouldn’t take him more than half an hour at most. Besides, he wasn’t forbidden to go down below. It was only a polite piece of advice.
***
The recreation levels below the transfer station were dark and hazy, poorly lit and crowded with Regulars. You didn’t find officers down here because there was no rank. Ian threaded his way through the men, ignoring the glances tossed his way.
Recreation Hubs, more commonly referred to as Rec-Hubs, were created mostly to give the Regulars a place to blow off steam, drink, brawl, and screw anything they wanted without regulations or the brass hanging over them. After being on an outpost for months on end, this was the Army’s answer for R and R. It was four levels, two devoted to sleeping quarters and the other two to various businesses all run by civilians but sanctioned by the Army. Bars, cantinas, sex dens, gambling rooms, all pouring out canned music of some sort. Fighting was permitted so long as no one got killed. Weapons were strictly prohibited.
The noise in Ian’s head didn’t abate as he continued to ignore the looks that came his way. He didn’t have a problem shoving some half drunk or zoned ground pounder out of his path when necessary. And although he had every intention of hitting the first bar he found and getting that bottle of alcohol, he instead found himself pushing on as if looking for something specific. The walls were scarred and in some places painted with interesting graffiti that had Ian pausing at one point to ponder if it was even physically possible. Despite the subject, the artist had some real talent, Ian concluded, and moved on.
He’d already passed several bars, music spilling out of them, the roar of voices, laughter, shouting and cheering mixing with acrid smoke. Ian didn’t even pause. They weren’t what he was looking for. What he was looking for and why he was looking for it, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he continued to push on. He was here, why not have a look around?
Bodies walked and pushed by him, around him, dressed in Army green. Ian didn’t register any of the individuals or their faces. They remained a blur to him, part of the background noise and color as he pushed further in. Under the crush of voices in his head, something continued to whisper to him, lure him deeper into the miasma of the Rec-Hub.
Several girls, dressed in a riot of wildly colored crotch skirts and barely-there tops, lounged against the wall or draped themselves over chairs outside the entrance of one of the sex dens. They called out to Ian, who only shook his head and shifted out of the reach of one girl who tried to catch his arm. He bumped into a Regular who growled and shouldered Ian with a sharp shove that sent him stumbling back against the woman. The woman yelped, grabbing for Ian again as she was knocked off balance.
Her mind’s voice cut bright and sharp across Ian’s thoughts, the words a blur, tangled and shrill. He jerked free of her grasp with an icy glare before turning to the Regular who loomed over him by several inches. Ian tossed him the same glare then shoved past him and three or four of his buddies to continue down the busy corridor, dismissing the man from his mind.
Two more Regulars got into it outside one of the bars, one slamming the other against the wall by the entrance. Several others ringed them, shouting and cheering. Ian skirted the gathering mob, their voices clamoring against his thoughts. Only about a hundred yards farther down, another Regular pinned a girl to the wall, shoving her short skirt up even as he fumbled with his own pants. Ian looked away. It was what these Rec-Hubs were for; the women on them knew what they were doing here.
But he’d seen enough. Time to get that bottle and get back above to the safer sections of the Transfer Station. He had his choice of at least five or six bars from right where he stood; any of them would have what he needed. But something nudged at him, pulling him toward the farthest. He couldn’t say why he didn’t just duck into the nearest one and be done with it. Instead, he let himself be drawn down the busy corridor before pushing his way inside, ignoring the crush of bodies and the loud, canned music.
The place was packed wall to wall with Regulars, all in various stages of drunk, or stoned, or both. It was as dark and smoky as the corridor had been. He scanned the packed room for the bar. Soldiers stared at him but he shrugged off the looks as he pushed his way to the bar. A girl danced at the far end, wearing nothing more than panties and vibrant body paint. He managed to wedge between two men, ignoring the dark glares they gave him and flagged down the bartender.
Tall and reed thin with pale skin, the bartender looked him over with a raised eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be down here, Truebred.”
“Then I’ll leave after I buy a bottle.” Ian tossed the credit chip on the bar between them. Two Regulars reached up and pulled the girl down as Ian watched.
“Your funeral, Lieutenant.” The bartender shrugged and turned only enough to reach behind him and grab a full bottle of alcohol. He put it on the bar with one hand even as he swept the chip off the surface into his apron pocket with the other.
Ian reached for the bottle when a hand grasped his shoulder in a punishing grip, spinning him around. He found himself staring at the Regular he’d bumped into in front of the sex den. The man’s eyes glittered as he shoved Ian back against the bar. The space around them cleared out in the blink of an eye, leaving only Ian, the pissed-off Regular and his smirking buddies who ranged behind him.
“You got no rank down here, Truebred.” The guy gave Ian another shove.
Ian glared and shoved right back. “You don’t want to touch me again, Specialist.” Ian swept the other men with a frigid look that only made them laugh. Under it, he could hear their thoughts over the crush of thousands of others. It wasn’t pleasant and he was far from any form of safety, but he’d be damned if he’d be sport for a bunch of liquored-up ground pounders. “All of you can just back off.”
“You think ya got yourself a real pair, don’cha, brat? We can take care of that.” The Regular grabbed for Ian’s arm but Ian shifted and ducked under and in the same smooth move came up and landed a solid fist smack in the middle of the bastard’s face. Blood erupted from the man’s broken nose; he howled in surprise and pain as he stumbled back into his shocked buddies. Ian used the opportunity to make a strategic escape for the door with the idea of disappearing into the mass of people out in the corridors.
At least that was the plan. He was almost to the door when someone grabbed him and threw him up against the wall. Furious, Ian threw an elbow back, connecting with somebody before he spun around and faced the room. Everyone cleared out around him as he stood his ground, leaving him alone with only the Regulars who had started all of this. Now one had a broken nose and another, taller man gingerly felt his right cheek where Ian didn’t doubt were broken bones.
They all glared at him with a vicious hate that rolled over Ian like a wave.
Broken Nose wiped at the blood with the back of his hand. “You’re really in for it now, snot.”
***
Sergeant Nathan Williams hated Rec-Hubs. In the past, it had been a mild distaste, a place they had to come to every so often. But then he’d had his partner, Ben, at his side and in his thoughts. Ben was gone and Nathan walked through the crowded corridor alone, ignoring the glances tossed his way.
It wasn’t often a Bonded was seen without his Bondmate; at the very least he should have his partner with him. But Ben was dead, and Nathan was still learning to survive without him. Dead six months and still Nathan struggled to accept what couldn’t be changed.
The Regulars who flooded the corridor, most in various stages of drunk and mean, parted without comment to let Nathan pass. It wasn’t because Nathan was a big man, even though he was just over six feet. Nathan knew the real reason they shifted out of his way was due to the dark band on each sleeve of his uniform shirt.
The bands that marked him as a Bonded.
God, how he hated Rec-Hubs. A necessary evil, but Christ he hated them. Always had. Euphemistically tagged as the “entertainment” level, something that made Nathan shake his head at the notion, this level was in reality a collection of bars, gambling clubs, sex dens and eateries, all jammed one after the other along the dark and smoke-filled corridor. Alcohol, cigarettes, girls and legal mind-numbing drugs could be had, all against a backdrop of blaring music and bad lighting. Oh sure, some of the bars had pool tables, others had vidgames or wrestling pits. Some of the sex dens offered young men along with the girls if your tastes ran to that. But in Nathan’s opinion, one Rec-Hub bar or sex den was much the same as any other. You drank, you got into fights, you dragged a girl back to your room and fucked.
Well, most of the time you tried to make it to your room. Nathan ignored the Regular who was busy nailing his choice with a great deal of enthusiasm against the wall outside one of the bars.
Now if a guy wanted something more, there was always the black market on the lowest levels. There you could find anything you wantedfor a price, of course. Illegal drugs, pure alcohol, there was even human trafficking down thereif your tastes ran to younger girls or boys. And goods of all sorts: medical, food stuffs, mechanical parts and tools, even power cells big enough to supply a small encampment. All of it and more could be found on those lower levels.
It was the black market that brought Nathan and his unit here to the Rec-Hub in the first place. They were in desperate need of a power cell unit, not to mention medical supplies. Nathan hoped they could get what they needed and be off the damned Rec-Hub within another day at most. Until then, he’d have to deal with being here.
He hesitated at the entrance to one of the bars, the canned music spilling out into the main corridor around him. Sucking in a slow breath, he pushed his way into the crowd. The place was packed with Regulars as well as business girls, all wrapped in a haze of dim lighting. The loud music and smoke washed over him as he worked his way into the mass of soldiers, threading his way into the throng. Suspicious and wary glances were given him, but the soldiers moved aside enough to let him pass without challenge.
He paused as he scanned the room and the crowd. A couple of girls danced, or more accurately, stripped, on a makeshift stage to one side of the room. Cheers rose with each piece of clothing they pulled off. Nathan pushed his way to the bar.
He caught the attention of the bartender, who seemed to have no such qualms. Nathan ordered a round of beers before turning and studying the crowd again. The place was packed with way too many people for the size of the room. But then, every bar in the Rec-Hub would be that way. The music pounded in his ears with the roar of voices, aggravating the low-grade headache just behind his eyes. That was something else he was learning to live with, the constant headache that was now twenty-four/seven. Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around to see if the bartender had come back with the beers.
There was still a scuffle of some sort near the entrance. Nathan couldn’t see much from his present location; not that it interested him anyway. Fights were common and expected and often died down as quickly as they started. A few angry words would be exchanged, a shove or two.
There were times when they erupted into a full-scale brawl that dragged everyone in. Nathan hoped he was wrong, but there was an electric feel about the place tonight, an edginess that he couldn’t help but sense in the closeness of the room. It tugged at the back of his thoughts, leaving him with a sense that something was going to happen.
He decided to let his men have another beer and then move them along before things got out of hand.
A soft hand fell on his hip; another trailed suggestively down his ass before he glanced around. A young business girl smiled slyly up at him. Without a word, she slipped around him to the other side, the hand on his hip now on his thigh. She pressed herself up against him. Before he realized what happened, she had the top button of his pants undone. Nathan captured her slender wrists in one hand and pushed her, gently, back a step. Confused, she frowned, looking up at him with enormous dark eyes. Nathan tried to ignore the emptiness there as he refastened his pants.
“Go on now,” he found his voice and she shook her head. The bartender arrived and placed the beers on the bar, the bottles clinking together. He raised an eyebrow at Nathan and the girl, but said nothing. “I’m not interested, so go on now.” Nathan pushed her a little further back.
“You want a good time, yes?” The girl tried to reach for Nathan’s pants again but he still held her wrists.
There was a burst of laughter behind him. “Not that one, darlin’.”
Nathan glanced back over his shoulder at a Regular standing right behind him. The guy grinned maliciously before he took a long swallow of his beer. “This one don’t like girls, ain’t that right, Bonded?” The sneer sliced across Nathan’s frayed nerves. The guy had a sharp featured look about him. He was as tall as Nathan, but where Nathan was broad-shouldered and powerfully built, this soldier was lanky and long-limbed. The bastard continued to grin at Nathan as he crushed out his cigarette on the bar. What appeared to be his buddies chuckled and nudged each other.
Nathan returned his attention to the girl. He turned her around and pushed her away. She tossed a wounded look over her shoulder at him, her dark hair spilling down her back. But she disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nathan ignored the Regulars who now laughed like a pack of idiots. He sighed and shook his head, reminding himself there was a reason they were here.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with one of ‘em, wouldja, Bonded?” The guy wouldn’t leave off, finding all the courage he needed from the beer and whatever his cigarette was laced with. His buddies egged him on. “So where’s your fuck buddy, huh, Bonded?” They all hooted, one slapping the mouthy one on the back for what they thought was a keen observation.
Nathan’s head hurt and he was so not in the mood for this crap. He gathered the beers to him but left them on the bar as he shot a sideways glance at the other man and shrugged. “I don’t need one, what with such a pretty piece of ass like yourself standing here in front of me just begging for it. Ain’t that what this is about?”
That wiped the grin off the Regular’s face quick enough. Nathan wasn’t done, though. He shifted and moved into the other man’s space, getting right up into his face. His buddies, no longer laughing, made no move to help. Nathan kept his voice low. “You a little jealous here, son? Want to know what it’s like with a real man? I can have you over this bar if that’s what you want and I’m sure the crowd would love to watch.”
The color drained from the other man’s face as he stared at Nathan. “I bet back at camp you’re on your knees to all the guys, ain’tcha?”
“Hey, Nate, everything okay here?”
Nathan stared at him for another long moment then stepped back, nodding. “Yeah, fine, Sean, just fine.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the man who wore a shirt marked with the same black bands on the arms.
Lieutenant Sean Dunn, the unit’s pilot and mechanic, a handsome, black-haired Bonded with clear blue eyes gave the Regulars a look before he reached past Nathan and grabbed up some of the beers. “Yeah, well, I figured you needed some help…” he let that hang for a drawn out moment, “with the beers.”
Nathan grabbed up the remaining bottles and the two men left the bar, heading toward the back of the room. No one hassled them, letting the two men pass unchallenged, but not before Nathan heard the guy he’d just threatened mutter under his breath, “Fucking Bonded.”
The rest of Nathan’s unit had taken up a position to the far side of the pool tables, including Sean’s silent Bond partner, the unit medic, “Doc” Callahan. From where he sat, the medic watched them with those strange gray eyes of his. Doc’s gaze flicked from Nate to Sean but he said nothing, only tapped the ashes from his cigarette.
The Flannigan twins, a pair of brothers built like oxen, blocked the path to the table. They were drunk, hanging on each other and arguing. They didn’t notice when Nathan elbowed them aside, Sean in his wake. Both men put the bottles on the table with a clatter, Sean circling to one side of Doc while Nathan snagged a chair from a nearby table by hooking it with his foot.
The fight by the entrance continued with loud cheers. Nathan watched the milling soldiers, judging the restless crowd as he grabbed one of the beers and took a deep swallow. It was getting dangerous in here and Nathan knew he was going to have to move his men along soon. Too many things could go wrong and it was the last thing any of them needed right now. There were plenty of other bars they could move to if the guys wanted to hang out instead of going back to their rooms.
God, he didn’t want to be here. But he couldn’t leave his men to Sean, not yet, anyway and not here. Nathan knew Sean was more than capable of handling the Flannigan twins, but the other two Bonded pairs that made up the team were a different story. It was all Nathan could do to keep them in line. Rory and Alejandro loved to find trouble whereas Scott and Noah remained a volatile pair on the best of days. Throw in a bar fight and Nathan didn’t like what could happen.
You need me to help you with that headache?
Nathan met the quiet medic’s eyes. Doc rarely spoke out loud. A gifted Listener, he had no reason to with his ability to speak into any Bonded’s mind he wanted. Doc crushed out his cigarette before pushing his pale blond hair out of his eyes.
I’m fine, Doc, don’t worry about me. Nathan looked away, watching two of his men circle around the pool table as they took their shots.
You’re not and we both know it.
I’m not in the mood, Doc, let’s not go there right now.
The medic withdrew from his thoughts but continued to watch him with narrowed eyes. Nathan sighed and rolled his shoulders.
The Flannigans got into a shoving match, calling each other names, spilling their beer. As long as it went no further, Nathan decided to let them be. They were quite the pair though, with their flaming red hair and identical looks. There was no way to tell them apart but for one had blue eyes, the other green. Personality-wise though, they were about as different as night and day. They’d probably share a girl later on.
Scott and Noah, the pair playing pool, finished their game with Scott throwing his cue on the table with a disgusted growl. Noah shook his head and remained where he was, leaning on his cue as he watched his partner shoulder his way between the arguing Flannigan twins.
It was like trying to move mountains and when the pair continued to block Scott’s path, he snarled, sharply elbowing one in the side as he shoved the other back. Beer spilled as one twin yelped and the other shoved Scott hard against the pool table. Balls scattered, curses shouted as those Regulars nearest the Bonded looked up and shifted restlessly.
Scott was off the table, fists raised, eyes brilliant with his fury. The Flannigans were no longer laughing and shoving. Both men stood tall and ready to put Scott down a few notches.
Nathan sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting too old for this shit. “Back off, all of ya.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Scott glared at Tyler Flannigan, daring him to take a swing at him. Nathan watched Tyler shift his body weight, preparing to take Scott down. These two were the most volatile of the team and never much cared for each other. “Don’t make me get up,” Nathan warned.
“Sarge”
“Don’t go there, Scott, you ain’t gonna win.” Nathan sat back in his chair, pinning Scott with an I’m-not-in-the-mood-for-your-bullshit look.
“Why don’t you two go get the next round?” Sean tossed the credit chip on the table with a clink.
“Why don’t you go to hell?” Scott fisted his hands as he raised his head. His green eyes darkened a shade with his mounting anger.
“That’s enough!” Nathan slammed his bottle on the table. Several Regulars flicked nervous and curious glances their way. “This ain’t the place. Noah, take your idiot partner and get the beers, right now.”
“Sure, Sarge.” Noah, tall and dark with bicolored eyes, reached past his Bonded and grabbed the money. “Come on, Scott, Sarge’s right, this ain’t the place.” He grabbed Scott’s arm.
“Don’t touch me!” Scott yanked free of Noah, but before anyone could say anything else, he stormed off into the crowd toward the bar. Noah shrugged and followed in his wake.
“Christ Jesus, that was fun.” Rory leaned on his pool cue as his partner dumped the missing balls back on the table. Alejandro racked them up and then nodded to Rory to break.
Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose again, squeezing his eyes shut against the increasing headache. Just another fun-filled night at the Rec-Hub, what else could he expect? Scott Simmons was always angry, but he normally kept his fury leashed in public. Nathan watched Rory and Ali as they circled the table, sizing up their shots. There was an edginess with this pair as well.
Nathan finished his beer and set the bottle with the other empties collecting in the middle of the table. Whole team’s wired tonight, Doc. Hell, the whole fuckin’ room is on the edge of a brawl.
There’s an unbonded in the room... Doc slipped across his thoughts again.
Yeah, Doc, that would be me.
No, this is a gifted, a Listener. He’s untrained... and he’s feeding the room.
You’re telling me this because…?
He’s angry and he’s afraid. He’s spilling that on everyone in here.
And there’s probably close to three-hundred Regulars in here, Doc. Whoever he is, he ain’t our problem.
A pair of Regulars started a shoving match at the edge of the crowd behind Ali and Rory. A business girl shrieked, then laughed. The tension continued to ratchet up with an electric feel in the air, an anticipation that fed through the entire place. Something was getting ready to jump off and Nathan didn’t like it.
It was only a matter of a few minutes at best, Nathan gauged.
Doc, call Scott and Noah back. I think it’s time we move on outta here.
The shoving match between the Regulars escalated into a full-blown fight after the larger one threw the smaller one up against the wall and he came back swinging.
“I think it’s time we get the hell outta Dodge, gentlemen.” Sean finished off his beer as he gained his feet. Doc was already up, pale hair falling over his eyes before he brushed it back. Ali and Rory laid their pool cues down, for once not looking to make trouble as they waited for Nathan to lead the way.
Scott and Noah appeared, being careful to steer well clear of the new fight. They all winced when the larger guy grabbed the smaller one and body slammed him over a table with a crash. The table collapsed, bottles and soldiers scattering.
Nathan signaled to the twins to take the lead and clear a path for them. Besides, he wanted to keep Scott near just in case the hothead decided to join the fun.
He spotted the other fight as they approached the entrance. He didn’t pay it any more attention than he did the one in the back. He only wanted to get his men out to the corridor and then they could decide what to do. Several of the Regulars gave him dirty looks as he elbowed through, but they were much more interested in the fight than a pack of Bonded leaving the room.
The twins had made it to the entrance and waited for the rest of them to catch up. Unlike Doc, Nathan wasn’t a Listener, he couldn’t talk to or hear the team so he wasn’t tuned into the levels of emotions the way the medic naturally was. But even so, he didn’t have to be gifted to feel the tension in the room. To Nathan, the air seemed to shimmer with it. Something else sang under it as well, something that had Nathan slowing down.
He found himself staring at a young officer backed against the wall, head up, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had a split lip and judging by the way he favored his left side, some bruised ribs. On the floor between him and four Regulars was a fifth man, face down and, Nathan had to assume, out cold.
Doc appeared at Nathan’s elbow. Sweet Christ, Nate, that’s the unbonded!
Nathan shook his head, trying to ignore the buzzing in his ears. He glanced over to see his team was all safe and waiting at the entrance for him. He should be there too, but something drew his attention back to the skirmish.
You sure he’s an unbonded, Doc? He’s a Truebred. What the hell he’s doing down here anyway? Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off him.
He’s a mess is what he is, Doc shook his head. A wildcard of talent and he ain’t got no idea what he is.
The Truebred was tall and lean and from what Nathan could see, pretty well put together. And why that suddenly mattered to Nathan, he wasn’t sure. The buzzing was still in his ears, joined by a tingling along his skin. Nathan raised his head, watching the Truebred with a fascination he couldn’t explain.
Nate, Christ Jesus, you recognizing this guy?
Stay outta this, medic... Nathan shook his head, shoving back down the sudden bout of anger and possessiveness. Where the hell had that come from?
Sean showed up on the other side of Nathan, touching his arm lightly. “Sergeant, this ain’t our fight, don’tcha think we should be moving along here?”
Nathan somehow managed to pull his attention away from the young Truebred and stared at Sean and Doc. The buzzing in his ears got worse, threatening to drown out the roar of the restless crowd. Damn, it was hot. Sweat crawled down his back. The rest of the team now joined Sean and Doc, their faces a mixture of confusion and concern. Under it, Nathan could hear Doc talking to Sean through the temporary Bond he still shared with the medic, but the words weren’t making any sense.
Something sang under his thoughts and Nathan found himself staring at the Truebred again.
The four remaining men who had cornered the young officer were pacing back and forth. All of them showed signs that the Truebred was quite a fighter. One of them, the blood still dripping from his chin, had a broken nose. Another had a smashed cheekbone, the color already filling in to a livid bruise as he cradled his left wrist. A third kept his balance off his right foot, and sported what would later be a hell of a shiner. The fourth also showed signs of taking a fist in the eye.
And all of that from one cornered Truebred. Well, Christ. Nathan had to admire the young officer, however stupid he’d been to get himself in this mess in the first place.
The guy with the bad wrist made a charge at the Truebred. The officer moved easily, stepping into the man and letting his momentum do the work for him. In a move almost too quick to see, he stepped back on one foot and drove his knee into the man’s groin. The wind and sense knocked out of him, the Regular doubled over. The Truebred drove his fist down into the man’s face, dropping him like a ton of bricks to the deck.
Everyone watching winced. The ground pounder groaned and rolled over onto his back, knees drawn up to his chest as the Truebred danced back and waited for the next attack.
“Truebred’s got a pair, that’s for sure.” Rory shook his head in respect.
“He ain’t gonna last much longer.” Sean glanced at Nathan. “You want to help him?”
Nathan wanted to say no. This was none of their business. The guy got himself into this mess, he could pay the consequences. It was too dangerous and Nathan had enough to worry about with his own men. But as much as he wanted to tell them to get the hell out of there, something else refused to let him do so.
Doc? Can you talk to him, let him know we’re here to help?
I can try, Nate, but right now I’m just one more voice in his head. He’s unguarded, wide open, in pain and completely untrained.
Joy. Nathan signaled to the twins to get behind the three Regulars still standing. A mob started to gather behind them. Try to reach him any way you can, Doc. These guys take him down, he ain’t gonna survive the experience of being handed around to a couple hundred drunk ground pounders looking for a chance to fuck a Truebred.
He felt the medic flinch beside him and regretted his choice of words, however true. “Sean, stay close to your partner because it’s gonna get ugly in here.” Nathan signaled for Noah and Scott as well as Rory and Ali to get themselves positioned in front of the growing mob. If they could get the officer’s attention, they could help him make a break for the entrance. Once out there, it would be up to the guy to get his sweet ass topside to the Transfer Center.
And Nathan could forget about him.
Nathan circled around, hoping to catch the notice of the young officer. The lieutenant kept moving and shifting, making it impossible for Nathan to get his attention. He didn’t think it was a good idea to approach him, not yet anyway. And there were still three Regulars who were not going to simply step aside.
Doc? You reach him yet?
He doesn’t know who I am. I’m just more noise to him. He needs help, Nate.
Working on it, Doc. Nathan shook his head, the buzzing in his ears starting to annoy him. He felt flushed and hot, his skin still tingling. The room was way too crowded for his comfort as he rubbed the back of his neck and considered their options. He circled back toward the medic, again hoping to draw the man’s attention to him. “Come on, we’re just trying to help ya...” he muttered under his breath.
The fight at the back of the room was dragging more men in by the moment with shouts and the sound of furniture being smashed. Nathan realized they were running out of time as the room started to come apart around them. Worse than that, the officer showed signs of exhaustion. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.
Doc spoke to him, trying to get his attention, but Nathan ignored him. He had more important things to worry about and they centered around the young Truebred. The officer still shifted, keeping the wall at his back, trying to keep an eye on everyone even as he shook his head.
Something that had died with Ben six months ago woke anew in Nathan. The Bond whispered at him, insistent, nudging him with the realization that the young officer would be his new mate.
And that made Nathan pause as he realized what was happening. It had been more than eighteen years but he could still remember when the Bond had recognized him and Ben for each other.
Now it recognized two incomplete souls that were meant to be a whole, the Bond singing along Nathan’s nerves. In the blink of an eye, everything changed, and he would no longer be alone.
This could not be happeninghe couldn’t, shouldn’t be Bondingagain.
But the Bond continued to urge him to go to the Truebred who would be his new mate. For a long moment, the room disappeared around him and Nathan found himself standing on a different plane, the young officer there with him. They looked at each other, the other man in confusion as the newly forming Bond shimmered around them. Nate reached for him…
Nate! Listen to me!
Doc grabbed his arm, trying to pull him around but Nathan yanked free with a growl. Back off, medic!
The remaining Regulars who had backed the officer into a corner must have sensed the guy was near the end of his rope. With nods to each other, they started to advance on the Truebred. The lieutenant raised his head, eyes brilliant and shifted his weight forward. It was apparent to everyone he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Fuckin’ brat, you’re gonna know respect when we get done with ya’.” The one with the broken nose motioned his two buddies to close in.
The room hazed red in front of Nathan’s eyes. There was no way he was going to let these bastards get hold of that officer. The Bond called him, pulling at him, reminding him that the officer belonged to him. He felt like he was on fire.
The Bond recognized him as Nathan’s and that was all Nathan could understand.
The Regulars closed in, the lieutenant backing up against the wall, head still held high. In the part of his mind that was still sane, Nathan could hear Doc relaying Sean’s orders to the rest of the team to help out.
Broken Nose made a grab for the Truebred even as the Flannigan twins grabbed his two buddies from behind. Nathan lunged between the Regular and the lieutenant, shouldering the bastard back. “Back the fuck off, now!”
“You got no claim here, Bonded!” Broken Nose’s eyes were filled with fury. He came at Nathan, fist raised.
His vision still hazed in red, Nathan grabbed the man by the arm and slammed him hard against the wall. Dazed, Broken Nose slid to the floor. The Flannigans had the other two well in hand when Nathan turned to the young officer.
Forgetting about Broken Nose, Nathan faced the Truebred. They needed to get the hell out of there. Nathan needed to get the Truebred someplace safe. He reached out, grabbing him by the arm even as the other man looked up with large, dark eyes.
It was like coming into contact with a live, electrical current.
White-hot pain knifed through Nathan’s mind, stabbing behind his eyes and driving him to his knees, gasping for breath. He was besieged by the roar of hundreds of voices, overwhelmed with alternating waves of fury and terror that tore into his thoughts. Lost in an instant in a sea of confusion, he caught a disjointed vision from eyes not his own, looking back at all of them, himself included as he lay on the floor. All of it was hazed in red, like his mind was on fire and being pulled apart at the same time.
Someone was screaming and Nathan couldn’t be sure it wasn’t him.
Chapter Two
The sheer strength of the man’s uncontrolled gift ripped right through Doc’s formidable defenses as well, blindsiding the unprepared medic. He’d sensed the young officer was gifted, but not to this degree. Now Doc was caught up in the officer’s pain and panic and unable to find himself in the storm.
He’d never experienced anything like it, becoming more lost by the moment.
Stinging, sharp and immediate, had Doc rearing back, sprawling on the deck as he shook his head, trying to surface past the emotional turmoil. Again, sharp pain that gave Doc something to latch onto that was not the Truebred. With a gasp, he broke the grip of the other man’s mind and found himself staring at his partner, Sean.
“Oh my God, Doc, are you all right?” Sean helped him sit up, his eyes wide and filled with fear. Music still blared, men shouted. Doc glanced behind him to see the place disintegrating into a full riotall courtesy of the out of control Truebred. Doc’s cheeks stung as he got his knees under him, still dazed.
Christ, what did you do? Slap me?
Hell yes, several times! I couldn’t reach you!
A chair sailed over them, smashing against the wall beside the Truebred. The man screamed, hands fisted in his hair as he repeatedly slammed his head back against the wall. Those people not caught up in the now growing brawl could only stand and stare. The noise was deafening, between the fighting, canned music and the Truebred’s screaming, it all had Doc’s head spinning as he struggled to shore up his mental defenses. Sean lent support over the Bond they shared.
With his mental defenses barely in place, Doc shoved Sean aside and crawled the few feet over to Nate’s prone body. The other man was still conscious, but in deep shock, shivering in fine tremors. Doc tried but couldn’t reach him. The other man’s mind was a chaos of pain and try as Doc might, he couldn’t push past it. He was locked in the initial Bonding with the Truebred, which was going more wrong by the moment.
Doc, what the hell’s going on here?!
Sean knelt beside him, helping Doc roll Nate onto his back. Blood oozed from Nate’s nose, but that could have happened when Nate collapsed and possibly smacked his face on the deck. Doc glanced at the lieutenant, who’d slid down and sat there, still banging his head back against the wall. His eyes were wide and unseeing.
We need to get that Truebred over here!
Doc! What’s going on?
They’re Bonding, damn it!
Sean simply stared at him, mouth hanging open.
Get him over here! They’re tearing each other’s minds apart and I’m gonna lose both if we don’t get them together! Doc threw himself over Nate’s shivering body when several bottles flew past, hitting the wall by the entrance with a sharp thunk. Thank God, they weren’t breakable. Just grab the guy and drag him over here, for chrissakes!
This place is going full brawl! Sean gained his feet but ducked when another bottle sailed past his head.
Now tell me something I don’t know...
Sean signaled to the other men of their team. He was a Listener like Doc, but his gift was marginal at best, so he couldn’t speak to them mind to mind. On the other side of Nate, Noah knelt to see if he could help the medic as his partner, Scott, stood beside him, facing the room as he prepared to protect them.
Still trying to reach Nate any way he could, Doc watched as Sean, with the Flannigan twins to either side of him, grabbed for the officer.
Kneeling by the keening man, Sean barely touched him when the lieutenant’s head snapped up, eyes huge and brilliant with his rage. Before Doc could warn his partner, the Truebred lunged and lashed out, sending Sean sprawling across the deck with the breath knocked out of him.
Oh my God! Sean!
I’m all right! I’m all right! Sean rolled to his knees and stumbled to his feet, rubbing his left side where he would be sporting an impressive bruise in a few hours. The lieutenant was also on his feet, eyes dark and filled with fury. When Tobey, the gentler of the Flannigan boys, tried to collar him, he got a hell of a lot more than he bargained for. Using the much bigger man’s momentum, the Truebred grabbed Tobey’s wrist, spun around and shouldered the man up over his back, sending Tobey crashing to the deck with a sound like a piano being dropped.
“Oh man, Tobey’s gonna feel that come tomorrow.” Rory stood next to Doc, keeping him protected.
What it did was piss off Tobey’s brother, Tyler, who came after the Truebred, backing him toward the wall after shoving Sean aside as he made another attempt to corral the officer.
Tyler! Don’t hurt him! Doc shouted to the angry brother. Tyler didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed the officer by the shoulders and shoved him, hard, against the wall. The wind knocked out of him, the Truebred cracked his head against the wall. Stunned, if only for a few moments, he collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Tobey was on his knees, shaking his head as his brother grabbed the officer up by the waistband of his pants and dragged him over to Doc and Nate like so much dirty laundry. Without a word, he dumped the man in a heap beside Nate.
Before Doc could shove Nate up next to him, the Truebred regained his senses. Sean, Scott and Noah tried to grab and contain him before he could get up but the young officer would have none of it. He landed a solid kick to Scott’s chest, sending the other man rolling over the deck with a curse. Shoving both Sean and Noah off of him, he reared up on his knees, hands fisted, eyes wild with rage.
Swallowing against the dryness in this throat, Doc could only stare at the other man as the lieutenant’s pain and fury washed over him like a tidal wave, hazing his vision in red. Under Doc’s hands, Nate twitched and groaned.
Sweet Jesus, what the hell were they supposed to do?
Doc tried to reach the Truebred, hoping that he wasn’t more noise in the man’s besieged mind. Hands still fisted, he turned and pinned Doc with a look that left the medic gaping. Sean used that momentary distraction to rush the guy, the two tangling and tumbling over the deck.
Sean!
I need help here! Sean shouted over Doc’s scattered thoughts.
The lieutenant ended up on top, pinning Sean to the deck, snarling.
Help Sean! My God, knock the Truebred out before he kills him! Doc watched the officer raise his fist, the other at Sean’s throat, cutting off his air supply.
Ali barreled into him, knocking him off Sean. They ended up at Tyler and Tobey’s feet, Tobey pulling Ali free of the snarling officer. The officer scrambled to his feet and turned, still off balance, giving Tyler the opportunity he needed. He cold-cocked the Truebred, driving him to the floor and knocking him out completely.
It was as if a switch had been flipped. The rage and terror were gone in a blink of an eye. The fighting stopped almost immediately, men shaking their heads and looking around, stunned and confused.
Get him over here! Doc ordered and the twins each took an arm and dragged the unconscious man over. The medic shoved Nate against him, praying the physical contact would help the fledging Bond get a better hold of the pair. Nate stopped shaking at the contact.
Doc closed his eyes and bowed his head, exhausted beyond words. Sean?
I’m right here, Cal. His partner was just as weary. You want to tell me what the hell just happened here? And don’t say it was a Bonding, for chrissakes.
Doc sucked in a deep breath, his ears still ringing. The lieutenant fought it, but it’s an initial Bonding, Sean.
So you gonna tell me that Sergeant Nathan Williams somehow managed to rebond? Just like that?
If only it were that simple, Doc thought to himself. We don’t have time to argue this. We need to get them both back to our rooms. I need to tranq the Truebred until we can sort this out and Nate’s ready to try and reason with him. The Truebred has no idea what just happened to him.
The rest of the Bonded unit gathered around the two unconscious men and Doc, their mind voices filled with confusion and some fear as they all spilled over the medic with questions. Doc’s mind was still shaken from the lieutenant’s assault, and he flinched back from the noise of his teammates. Sean knelt by him, resting his hand on Doc’s shoulder and lending his strength through their Bond to help Doc rebuild his still-fragile walls.
Everyone, shut the hell up for a minute, will ya! Doc still had his head down as he took in a few shaky breaths. That was the thing with being a Listener, he could hear and speak to all of the unit whereas they could only speak to their own partners.
Cal?
Chrissakes, Sean, give me a minute here...
Sean released his shoulder and brushed the back of his hand over Doc’s cheek. I would love to, but I don’t think the rest of this place is gonna let that happen.
Doc glanced up, blinking and staring at his partner before looking over his shoulder. His mouth went dry as he took in the situation. Somehow he’d forgotten they were in the middle of a bar in the Rec-Hub.
The fighting and chaos had stopped when they had knocked out the young officer, but now everyone was in various stages of confusion and bewilderment. The place was trashed, with broken and overturned furniture and the smell of spilled beer and cigarette smoke heavy in the air. Someone cut the canned music, dropping the room into a weird silence. They all stared at the Bonded.
Doc doubted any of them had seen an initial Bonding, let alone one like this.
Um, we need to get outta here, Cal…
Ya think, Sean?
The Truebred chose that moment to start to regain consciousness, groaning and rolling onto his back. Doc reached over, grabbing the man’s arm and dove into the chaotic mind before the young officer could fight him. With a sharp mental “tap” he knocked the guy out again. It was only a temporary fix.
We need to get back to the rooms, I’ve gotta tranq this guy. Doc nudged Nate back against the lieutenant. Tyler, Tobey, shoulder these two up so we can get outta here!
It wasn’t in the nature of the twins to question, even if they were confused about what had just happened. With a shrug they knelt down, Tobey throwing the officer over his shoulder as Tyler did the same for Nate.
“Now where the fuck do y’all think you’re taking that brat?” Broken Nose stepped forward, eyes narrowed, face still smeared with blood. “We got unfinished business with that snot, Bonded.”
Doc accepted Sean’s hand and climbed to his feet, still shaky. Sean moved to put himself between his partner and the confused mob.
“He’s not your concern anymore.” Sean signaled to the rest of the unit to stand with him. Cal, take the twins and get outta here. We’ll handle this.
For chrissakes, Sean, you and what’s left of the unit gonna take on a couple hundred pissed Regulars? Doc kept his hand on the lieutenant.
It’s just these idiot ground pounders that were after him in the first place. The rest of these guys aren’t going to care if we leave with the Truebred or not.
Sean
Christ Jesus, Cal, now is not the time to argue with me! Get Nate and the Truebred out of here!
Doc wasn’t about to leave his partner behind. He didn’t care what Sean wanted. He did, however, tell the twins to move closer to the entrance to make for an easier exit. That didn’t please Broken Nose in the least.
“You ain’t leaving with that snot.” Broken Nose pointed at Doc even as one of his buddies grabbed his arm and hissed something at him. The guy shook his friend off and glared at Sean. “You got no claim on the brat, Bonded, so do yourself a favor, dump him and get the fuck outta my way.”
Sean lifted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He had a good several inches on the ground pounder. And two Bonded pairs standing to either side of him, something the Regular’s buddies noticed.
“Come on, man, that’s a pack of Bonded, the guy ain’t worth it.” The one with a growing shiner and bad wrist again tried to get his friend’s attention but he was having none of it.
“If you’re that hard up for a guy, there’s an establishment about five doors down the corridor that can fix you up.” Sean nodded toward Broken Nose.
Another of Broken Nose’s buddies got on the other side of him, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back. “You’re a real smart ass, ain’tcha pretty boy! How about I kick that pansy butt of yours?” He jerked free of the second man and took another step toward Sean and his unit.
“However tempting that offer is, sweetheart, I gotta tell ya, I’m already spoken for.”
Broken Nose’s face flushed with rage as his two friends now made a more concerted effort to restrain him.
Sean, for chrissakes, you trying to get yourself killed? Doc started back toward his partner.
“Fucking Bonded!” Broken Nose threw off his friends and lunged at Sean.
The man was more furious than smart, making it far too easy for Sean to sucker punch him in the gut. Stunned, the man went down on his knees. Sean grabbed one of his arms by the wrist and twisted it up behind his back, forcing the guy onto his feet. The Regular yelped, the color draining from his face when Sean threatened to break the bones in his wrist as he twisted the man’s arm up higher.
Broken Nose’s cohorts started to rush forward but Scott stepped up, shaking his head. “You don’t want a part of this, boys.”
Silence gripped the bar but for Broken Nose’s whining.
Sean? Doc looked across the stunned mob.
I got this, Cal. You just tend to Nate and the Truebred.
Doc watched as Sean leaned in and spoke into the ear of the Regular even as he tweaked the bastard’s arm up tighter. The idiot cried out, eyes screwed shut as he panted for breath.
“Now, my unit here is leaving, with the officer. You got a problem with that?” Sean spoke softly, but such was the silence in the room that everyone heard him. Broken Nose didn’t say anything and Sean twisted his arm a little more. “I didn’t hear you...”
“Yeah, yeah, take the brat and go!” Broken Nose all but screamed with the agony.
“Smart decision, ground pounder.” Sean released him, shoving him hard toward his friends. Everyone stayed where he was as the man went to his knees, cradling his abused arm and glaring with pure hatred at the Bonded. Sean turned his back on the entire mob and walked back to Doc with a dark look on his face. “Now, can we get the hell outta here?”
Chapter Three
It was never a good idea for a Bonded to be out and about the Rec-Hub alone and normally Sean wouldn’t even consider it. But his partner, Doc, was back in the rooms tending to the still-unconscious Nate and a now drugged Truebred. They had absolutely no idea who the guy was or why he was in even in the Rec-Hub in the first place.
Being a Listener, Doc tried to read the lieutenant but had to give up, telling Sean the other man’s mind was in complete chaos. But they needed some answers about the young officer that Nate had gone and Bonded with.