Read Online Bad Nights by REBECCA YORK - Free Book Online

their steely determination. When you looked into them, you knew this man had a purpose.
    He made a formidable opponent. But Jack was being smart—following his SEAL training and looking for an opportunity to escape.
    â€œYou went to a lot of trouble to get into the RAM. Who are you working for?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œDon’t screw with me now. That fight in the bar where I first saw you beat the crap out of a guy—that was staged, wasn’t it?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou let me think you were a badass lone wolf, bitter about losing your buddies. You let me think you wanted to get back at the U.S. Government.”
    â€œI do.”
    Trainer snorted. Ignoring Jack, he went on. “You made me think you bought into the RAM ideals.”
    â€œI do.”
    â€œBullshit. You made yourself look like the perfect recruit. You had discipline. All the skills I needed in a man. I even made you an instructor. But it was all an act.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œCut the crap. You may think you can hold out. But you’re going to spill your guts to me like everybody does under torture. Why not make it easier on yourself and tell me now. Then I’ll kill you quick.”
    Jack didn’t waste his energy with a snappy reply. He let his mind float away—to a place where the pain was happening to someone else—only he could still feel it.
    â€œWhy were you in my office?”
    He’d been in the office? Jack didn’t remember that or anything else right before waking up in the torture chamber, but he filed the information away.
    Trainer leaned over him, grinning as he took a drag on his cigarette and held it up, studying the glowing end. Then he pressed it against Jack’s shoulder.
    He called on every drop of inner strength he possessed, determined to deny the militia leader the satisfaction of hearing him scream. But keeping silent was getting harder.
    â€œWho are you working for?”
    â€œNobody.”
    â€œYou’re lying.”
    When he turned his head away, the militia leader grabbed his hair and snapped his face back, damn near breaking his neck in the process.
    When he didn’t respond, the man closed a hand over his shoulder, his fingers rubbing against the new burn mark as he shook him.
    â€œJack. Wake up. Jack. Can you hear me?” an urgent voice asked.
    The voice didn’t sound like Trainer, but it had to be. Or one of his men. There was nobody else in the torture room. Or was his memory wrong? He didn’t recall the place smelling damp and musty.
    He tensed his muscles, waiting for the right moment.
    â€œJack?”
    In the dim light, he could barely see who had spoken his name. Was that really Trainer hovering above him? His mind refused to focus, but his body reacted in the way he’d been trained. This was his chance to get away, and he took it. Springing forward, he knocked the bastard out of the way where he landed on his ass against the wall.
    When he heard a grunting sound, he felt a surge of victory.
    â€œJack.”
    It didn’t sound like Trainer. And as the familiar face finally came into focus, he dragged in a sharp breath.
    It wasn’t Trainer or one of his men. And he wasn’t in the brightly lighted torture chamber.
    He was in a dark place, illuminated only by the glow from a flashlight sitting on the floor. In the dim light, he saw Morgan picking herself up.
    â€œShit.” He wasn’t back in Trainer’s clutches. His brain had made up that scenario when an explosion shook the house, and he fell down the ladder and blacked out.
    â€œMorgan?” he asked in a strangled voice.
    â€œYes.”
    He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he thought about the short amount of time they’d spent together. “I attacked you before, didn’t I? When you first found me, right?”
    â€œYou were out of it.”
    He snorted. “Don’t make excuses for me. I’m having flashbacks to