Read Online Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) by Kaylea Cross - Free Book Online
Authors: Kaylea Cross
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once they got back. Right now he needed time to himself.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, felt the way Evers was watching him as he turned the ignition over.
“That Summer?”
He hadn’t said much about his crumbling marriage except to Cruz a couple months back, but all the guys knew things weren’t going well at home for him and hadn’t been for a while. “Yeah.” The terse answer did the trick because Evers didn’t say anything else on the subject. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all on the drive to the Seattle field office.
Which was good. Because Adam didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment; not even one of his teammates.
****
I t wasn’t the first time he’d needed sewing up, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Sawyer sat motionless on the edge of the tub in the hotel room Schroder was sharing with Blackwell while the team medic stitched up his shoulder. What had taken Schroder less than ten minutes so far now that the cops had gone would have likely taken hours at the hospital, when he took into account the long wait and all the paperwork involved there. Besides, Doc did great stitching.
It was always weird to feel the thread pulling through his skin but not feel any pain each time the needle pierced his skin. He’d been stitched up without freezing before out in the field, which was no fun at all, so he was glad Schroder had been able to inject some lidocaine in there before starting. And this way he didn’t have to sweat and grit his teeth for each stitch while Carmela was watching.
Out in the bedroom she was perched on the foot of one of the queen size beds, watching the process through the open doorway with a concerned expression. He knew she wasn’t squeamish about blood but he could tell she was trying not to wince each time Schroder poked the suture needle through his skin. She’d been out there since the cops had left after taking their initial reports. Ethan had offered to come get her but she’d declined.
Either because she didn’t want to ruin her brother’s night with Marisol, or maybe because she hadn’t wanted to leave Sawyer. Secretly he hoped it was the latter.
He was as conflicted about her as ever and still didn’t know what to do about it. His past had taught him the perils of getting involved with Carmela, and that old fear wasn’t letting go. While Schroder stitched him up his thoughts drifted back to a memory of when he was a kid.
The catcalls and threats started the instant he stepped off the road and into the glade of trees he had to pass through to reach the edge of his father’s ranch.
Sawyer gritted his teeth and walked faster down the pathway, his fist tightening around the strap of his backpack. Every day when he stepped off the bus, he braced for this. Some days he beat the other boys here, but unfortunately today he wasn’t that lucky.
“Vance, you black piece of shit, get over here!”
Laughter and more insults followed him, the voices growing louder. He pretended to ignore them, even though he heard every vile word and ugly name they called him. It didn’t hurt him the way it used to, but the fear was still there, curdling in his stomach like sour milk. If he could just reach the fence line and get through it before the pack of bullies reached him, he’d be in the clear. Even Richard Allen and his gang of thugs weren’t stupid enough to come after him on his father’s land.
He maintained his brisk pace, refusing to look over his shoulder or let them know how scared he was, his boots crunching over the carpet of fallen autumn leaves. His breathing was a bit shallow, his senses heightened. The sounds of nature faded beneath the taunts being shouted at him. He knew every inch of this place, knew all the shortcuts, none of which would help him now. At ten he was already an expert hunter, tracker and stalker.
But since school had begun a few weeks ago without his best friend there to run interference, he’d become the
He climbed into the driver’s seat, felt the way Evers was watching him as he turned the ignition over.
“That Summer?”
He hadn’t said much about his crumbling marriage except to Cruz a couple months back, but all the guys knew things weren’t going well at home for him and hadn’t been for a while. “Yeah.” The terse answer did the trick because Evers didn’t say anything else on the subject. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all on the drive to the Seattle field office.
Which was good. Because Adam didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment; not even one of his teammates.
****
I t wasn’t the first time he’d needed sewing up, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Sawyer sat motionless on the edge of the tub in the hotel room Schroder was sharing with Blackwell while the team medic stitched up his shoulder. What had taken Schroder less than ten minutes so far now that the cops had gone would have likely taken hours at the hospital, when he took into account the long wait and all the paperwork involved there. Besides, Doc did great stitching.
It was always weird to feel the thread pulling through his skin but not feel any pain each time the needle pierced his skin. He’d been stitched up without freezing before out in the field, which was no fun at all, so he was glad Schroder had been able to inject some lidocaine in there before starting. And this way he didn’t have to sweat and grit his teeth for each stitch while Carmela was watching.
Out in the bedroom she was perched on the foot of one of the queen size beds, watching the process through the open doorway with a concerned expression. He knew she wasn’t squeamish about blood but he could tell she was trying not to wince each time Schroder poked the suture needle through his skin. She’d been out there since the cops had left after taking their initial reports. Ethan had offered to come get her but she’d declined.
Either because she didn’t want to ruin her brother’s night with Marisol, or maybe because she hadn’t wanted to leave Sawyer. Secretly he hoped it was the latter.
He was as conflicted about her as ever and still didn’t know what to do about it. His past had taught him the perils of getting involved with Carmela, and that old fear wasn’t letting go. While Schroder stitched him up his thoughts drifted back to a memory of when he was a kid.
The catcalls and threats started the instant he stepped off the road and into the glade of trees he had to pass through to reach the edge of his father’s ranch.
Sawyer gritted his teeth and walked faster down the pathway, his fist tightening around the strap of his backpack. Every day when he stepped off the bus, he braced for this. Some days he beat the other boys here, but unfortunately today he wasn’t that lucky.
“Vance, you black piece of shit, get over here!”
Laughter and more insults followed him, the voices growing louder. He pretended to ignore them, even though he heard every vile word and ugly name they called him. It didn’t hurt him the way it used to, but the fear was still there, curdling in his stomach like sour milk. If he could just reach the fence line and get through it before the pack of bullies reached him, he’d be in the clear. Even Richard Allen and his gang of thugs weren’t stupid enough to come after him on his father’s land.
He maintained his brisk pace, refusing to look over his shoulder or let them know how scared he was, his boots crunching over the carpet of fallen autumn leaves. His breathing was a bit shallow, his senses heightened. The sounds of nature faded beneath the taunts being shouted at him. He knew every inch of this place, knew all the shortcuts, none of which would help him now. At ten he was already an expert hunter, tracker and stalker.
But since school had begun a few weeks ago without his best friend there to run interference, he’d become the
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