He let go of her throat and walked out, leaving her with the blood streaming around her in a thick puddle. She heard herself screaming. Once she started she couldn't stop.
JACKSON heard his own raw cry, and he slammed his fist deep into the mosaic tiles. The floor softened under his punch, absorbing his flesh, allowing him to punch through as if the floor was gel and not solid. He swore, over and over, a vicious, steady, relentless spewing of every brutal term he'd ever learned in the bayou, the biker camps and the army.
Elle. Baby. I know where you are. I'm coming to get you.
He hit the floor again out of sheer impotence, seeing her broken, torn body, feeling her shattered soul. He had been a prisoner of war, brutally tortured, his mind fragmented, just as hers was. The Drakes had sent him soaring across the ocean so that he was in her mind, in her head, living her experiences and God help him, he wanted to murder someone. He found himself on his hands and knees, fighting not to vomit, feeling every humiliation, every lash, knowing exactly how broken she felt. He'd been there, exposed, brutalized and it had been her voice that had saved his sanity. Elle.
She kept screaming in her mind. He had to find a way to bring her back. Stavros was far closer to breaking her than he could imagine. She was trying to crawl inside her own mind and escape. Jackson could feel that she was partially there. Her sisters were worn-out and sooner or later the bridge between them would fail. It was only the tremendous love they had for their sister that kept them going past the point of sanity. Using the amount of psychic energy to bridge an ocean would leave the Drakes unable to move for hours, but he needed to stay with Elle as long as possible, at least until Stavros relented and took the body away.
Jackson didn't dare take his mind off Elle even for a moment to warn her sisters he needed to keep talking to her. He hoped they could see by his reactions that it was imperative to use every ounce of strength they had to hold the bridge.
I'm going to keep talking to you, baby. Concentrate on my voice and forget everything else around you. You aren't there. You're with me.
Jackson. The moment she whispered his name, seeking him, needing him, reaching out for strength, for hope, the energy field burned through her brain, an electric shock that had her screaming in pain.
Jackson felt the tears on his face. "Don't!" he pleaded with her, unaware he'd spoken aloud as well as in his mind. He even reached out for her, trying to touch her, to let her feel him. He took a breath and tried to keep himself together. Don't talk, Elle. Don't try to reach me. Let me just be with you this way. The bridge isn't going to last, you know that. Your sisters are sending you love and strength and we have you now. Hold on for us. Jonas is here. Ilya, too. Matt and Aleksandr will be with us. You know we'll come.
He felt the stirring in his mind, knew her thoughts, although she remained silent. She didn't want them to come. She was too afraid of Stavros. She believed he would kill them all--maybe even find and kill her sisters.
He shook his head. You know Jonas. You know me. You've seen inside me, Elle. I don't kill so easy. None of us do. Take a breath, baby, don't look at the floor. Look out the window at the storm. We sent that to you, across the ocean, we found you and we sent you a storm.
He felt her again and this time there was determination. She was building her strength and he held his breath knowing she was steeling herself for the crashing pain when she sent another message.
Stavros is psychic.
She screamed again and Jackson tasted blood in his mouth. The pain drove him down to the tiles again. A hand slid over his forehead, cooling, easing the terrible pain--easing it for both of them.
Powerful. Has a brother.
Each time Elle sent to him, the shocking current grew stronger. Libby gasped and jerked her hand away. They smelled the scent of burned flesh. The bridge wavered.
"No!" Jackson implored. "For God's sake, hold it." Elle, stop. We'll lose the bridge. You have to stay quiet. Keep looking out the window and just let me hold you in my arms for a few moments. Because the Drake sisters were trembling under the terrible effort. When the next storm comes, baby, be ready. We'll be there to get you. All of us together may be able to short-circuit the energy field.
He felt her sudden awareness of Stavros and he stayed quiet, waiting with her. Stavros wasn't alone and fear pounded through Elle, but then he felt some of the tension slip away. She recognized the other man. A bodyguard.
ELLE felt Jackson slipping away from her and she wanted to cry out, to reach for him and hold him inside her. Instead she kept her lashes down, trying to quiet the sobs escaping, trying to be as small as possible.
"What the hell have you done to her?" Sid demanded. "If you're going to kill her, put a bullet in her brain, don't turn her into a vegetable." He ripped the sheet off the bed and wrapped Elle's body in it, kicking Drako's leg out of his way as he removed the rope from her wrists. "She needs a doctor, Stavros. She's bleeding from her nose and mouth and around her ears. You know what that means? A brain bleed. You said you were going to keep her, not torture her."
Stavros rushed to the bed as Sid put her down. Elle rolled to her side and curled up in the fetal position, trying to disappear. Everywhere they touched her hurt. Her head pounded with agony. Her ability to think, to reason, was fast slipping away.
"Sheena," Stavros's voice was low, almost a caress. "Look at me, sweetness. It's going to be all right now. I've forgiven you and no one will hurt you again." He smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers, leaned down to press a kiss against her temple. "Don't fight me anymore, my sweet, just let me take care of you."
Sid wiped gently at the blood on her face with a warm washcloth. "Call a doctor, Stavros. You're going to lose her."
"If you're certain, but I'll have to kill him after he sees her."
"Pay him off like you do everyone else."
Stavros shook his head. "No one knows about her and lives."
Sid straightened slowly, his gaze ice-cold. "Is that why you killed Drako?"
"Not you, Sid," Stavros sounded genuinely shocked. "You're the only one I can trust. Drako died because he was betraying me to my brother. We do business together, but we don't trust each other. That's why I never talk to him unless we're here on this island. He's a strong psychic, Sid, and he wants power. He hates that I'm accepted in the world and he's chosen a life that keeps him on the outside. But he likes his image and the fear he instills in everyone."
All the while he talked, Stavros gently stroked Elle's hair, his hands almost tender as they moved through the silken strands. Anyone looking at him, at the expression on his face, would have thought he was deeply in love with her.
"Get rid of the body, Sid. I'll call a doctor." He kissed each temple and the corner of Elle's mouth. "Don't worry, sweetness, I'll take care of you." His fingers brushed at the tears sliding down her face. "It will be all right. Leave everything to me."
4
THE large ship anchored a few miles out in the Aegean Sea. A small bird--helicopter--sat on the pad waiting, sleek and black and very maneuverable. Men moved around, loading weapons in a quiet, controlled manner. A few smiled and made jokes, but most were silent, faces grim, dark stripes covering light skin, to match their dark clothing.
Jonas glanced at his watch. "So far everything is running by the numbers. The first storm took out his power with a nicely aimed lightning strike, and just as expected, the backup generator kicked in. But for fifteen seconds, his psychic barrier was down. Ilya tested it. It came on as soon as the generator kicked in. We intercepted his call for the electricians and our men will be going in soon." Jonas was proud of Hannah for that. She had created the storm and precisely aimed the bolt of lightning, scoring a hit first time out. That was his woman--deadly when needed.
"This is his home turf, his little empire, both on and off the island. Did he buy the excuse that the storm was too dangerous and the electricians would come at the first break?" Sarah asked. She leaned against the railing and looked out toward the
island where her youngest sister was being held prisoner. Her hand gripped the railing hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
Jonas wrapped his arm around her. "Hannah kept the lightning strikes close to his villa. So, yes, he bought it. Don't worry, honey, we'll get Elle back. We know what we're doing. Each man here is a good friend and trained in combat and rescue. We won't leave any evidence behind that he--or anyone else--could trace back to us."
"I know." There was determination in Sarah's voice.
"They've called for the electricians and our first team will make an entry in a few minutes. They'll go in and Gratsos will have guards to take them to the east side of the island where the power plant is. Four divers will move in with the boat, which will give us seven men on the island. The main dock is to the south with a smaller one on the north side. We're hoping to get lucky and have them direct our men to use the main dock. Our divers will have to hump it through enemy territory a shorter distance."
"Can we get the helicopter in the air to protect them?"
Jonas shook his head. "We can't risk it. If they bought the weather reports and the lightning strike, then we're good. And I don't see why they wouldn't."
Sarah watched him closely. "Who are you sending in to protect them?"
He inwardly cursed. "Matt's going." Matt Granite was Kate Drake's fiance and hell on wheels in a fight. "He's leading the second team in."
Sarah laid her head on his shoulder for comfort, briefly closing her eyes. "I hate this. That everyone we love is at risk, but this is for Elle. Has Jackson said anything at all to you?"
Jonas shook his head. "He won't talk, but he's back to the man he used to be before he came home with me. Colder. Edgier. Jackson is like Ilya, Sarah, and as much as I respect Ilya, he isn't an easy man."
"If these men deal in human trafficking, I'm terrified to think what could have happened to her this last month."
Jonas looked away. Jackson knew and his reaction had been scary. Sarah didn't want to know on some level, it was just too painful. Deliberately he glanced toward the cabins. "Hannah was sick most of the trip. I should have made her stay home."
"She would have followed us."
Jonas made a face. "That's why I didn't bother giving her an order. She never listens anyway."
Sarah smiled for the first time. "I'm sure that doesn't surprise you. Libby's with her and truly, we need her. She can command the wind like no one else; not even Ilya is quite as adept."
Jonas would have tried to stop Hannah if they were going after anyone but her baby sister. There would be no stopping his wife, pregnant or not. Not with Elle prisoner and Jackson losing his mind inch by slow inch.
"Team one is going in." Ilya's voice resonated in his ear.
"We have a go," Jonas announced aloud. "Tell the others to get ready."
Hannah would have to bring the storm in hard and they would have to trust Ilya's ability to keep a helicopter stabilized in violent winds if they were going to pull off the rescue, because they'd have to send it in later to back up the rescue team. But first, they had to bring down the energy field Gratsos protected himself with.
As if reading his thoughts, Sarah paused and turned back to him. "You know, Jonas, when that field comes down, Gratsos can use psychic energy as well. We don't know him, we don't know what he's capable of, so be careful."
Jonas locked his gaze with hers and a shiver went down her spine.
"I saw Jackson pounding the hell out of the floor, half out of his mind. Whatever that man did to Elle, he's going to pay, Sarah, one way or another. I don't give a damn how psychic he is. I'd bet on you against him any day of the week. Multiply that by your other sisters, and the man doesn't have a chance."
Jonas walked to Jackson's side where he was giving last-minute instructions to the team heading out in the boat. The three men going to the island to "fix" the power went in unarmed on a smaller boat. He knew these men, good friends willing to risk their lives to help Jonas and Jackson get Elle back. They were going into a war zone without a weapon other than their trained bodies.
"Team two will be right behind you," Jackson assured them, looking at the four divers, already in scuba gear, positioning themselves low in the boat. "Matt, you and Tom have to move fast. Our men will be at risk until you take out their guards and get their weapons to them, and we won't have anyone up in the air until you give us the signal." Jackson trusted Kate Drake's fiance. He was a former Army Ranger and both Jonas and Jackson had worked with him numerous times.
Matt's eyes were cool. "We'll have them covered."
"Remember, we leave nothing and no one behind. This has to be quick and clean. Get in and get out. I don't think we have any civilians other than the housekeeper and the package." Jackson kept his mind away from Elle, it was the only way he could function. They weren't going in after his heart and soul, they were going in on a rescue mission and they would succeed. "The housekeeper has to know the setup, so if she gets in the way, she's an enemy."
Jonas cleared his throat. "We don't know that."
Jackson shot him a look. "Everyone on that island is an enemy other than Elle. We don't risk our men for any reason." His voice was implacable. Jonas nodded, knowing Jackson was capable of anything at that moment, including knocking him out and leaving him with the Drake women.
Matt lifted the sealed bag of weapons and explosives and slipped down into the boat. His team, in wet suits and scuba gear would stay out of sight in the boat until all four divers could be dropped off just before coming within sight of the island. He took over the instructions, making certain his team understood. "We all swim to the dock and split up," he reiterated. "Tom and I will make our way across the island to the small power plant and back up team one. We'll take out the guards and arm our guys before heading to the smaller dock on the north side. Rick and Jock, you make your way to the helipad. Team one will sabotage the backup generator under cover of the storm and then we'll all help with the boats."
Jackson bumped fists with him. "We'll need as much intel as possible sent back. Work your way into position as soon as you take out the boats, to cover our escape."
"It's done," Matt assured him. "We'll get her out, Jackson."
Jackson didn't want to think about "her," or what might be happening. He didn't dare connect with her until they had everything in place. If she believed they were coming in and something went wrong, it would crush her.
Jonas clapped Jackson on the back. "We made it faster than we expected, and the girls are waiting. The moment you give the signal, they'll call in the storm. Ilya's already been testing the energy field. He says it's strong, but we can bring it down under cover of the storm."
"Who did the recon?"
"Ilya," Jonas said, knowing Jackson respected the man. "Looks like Gratsos has a small army of his own. Only civilian that he saw was a housekeeper, but someone obviously keeps the grounds. He laid out what he could of the house. It's glass, which gave him a fairly good view of the ground floor, but he couldn't see much on the second floor, not the way it was designed. You'll be going in blind."
Jackson shoved small throwing knives into the loops of his belt. "I'll get her out."
Jonas let out his breath. Jackson had been different--harder, colder--on a thin edge since he'd gone insane on the floor of the Drake home. When they'd lost the bridge, he'd been a madman, swearing, fighting, ready to kill. Not at all the ice-cold man Jonas had come to know over the years. He'd been shaking, and, God help them all, weeping genuine tears, his hands balled into tight fists as he pounded the floor. Fortunately, the house recognized Jackson and somehow cushioned those punishing punches. But then he'd sat on the ancient tiles and rocked back and forth, hands covering his face, the sounds coming from him torn from his soul.
Jonas and the other men had had their hands full trying to revive the Drake sisters, carrying them to bed, pouring tea down them. Ilya, even in his weakened state, tried to repair the damage done to Libby's hand from where she'd attempted to
heal both Jackson and Elle from the electric burns in their brains. It had been a mess, but Jackson had been the biggest mess of all.
When he was finally rational, he'd looked at Jonas with cold, haunted eyes. "We're going after her immediately and we'll need every one of our friends. Call them in, Jonas, tell them it's personal and I'll owe them. Don't give any information to her boss. Not a word. Not a whisper. We don't want the law. We're going to have to extract her and it's going to be bloody so we'll need to be able to get out of the country immediately."
"Hit and run with no trace," Jonas agreed.
"We can't leave any trail back to us. That means no bodies left behind. Nothing that can be tracked."
Then Jonas had looked at Jackson and realized he was back--the same man who wasn't a man, who had returned from the prison camps just the shell of what he once was, nothing left but will and iron. In that moment, in that look, Jackson changed Jonas. The look in his eyes swept the feeling of right and wrong away. There was no right, there was only a mission with one single outcome. He knew what that was; he knew how to carry out missions. They were going to need weapons and they were going to need men.
"Our boys will come, you know they will. Everyone who ever called us friend, everyone who ever owed us. No trace will be found of any of us ever being there." Jonas's eyes locked with Jackson's. "We'll get her out the way we've always done things--together."
Jonas would never forget the look Jackson gave him. Whatever gentleness Jackson had learned during the last couple of years while he'd lived in Sea Haven, was gone in that one instant. Jackson had returned to being remote, distant, rarely speaking, his mouth grim, his eyes cold. He cleaned his weapons often and practiced both shooting and throwing knives. He broke down and rebuilt his rifle hundreds of time until his hands were a blur as he did it, and he always practiced blindfolded.
Jackson turned away from Jonas and from the look on his face, a mixture of worry and regret. He didn't have time to reassure his friend--and he couldn't anyway. Something inside him that had only just begun to thaw had iced over until there was a glacier there. Elle mattered. She was the only thing--the only one who mattered in that moment--and there was no way to soften it, or pretend otherwise. He was willing to do whatever it took to get her back. He'd die if necessary--or kill. And he was fully prepared to kill a lot of people--anyone who got in his way.