White Heat & Solitary Soldier by Brenda Novak

Author:Brenda Novak
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488033971
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

When Nate finally allowed himself to drive to Paradise, he was angrier than he could ever remember being. It was the helplessness and the worry that were getting to him. He wanted to storm Paradise, kick the Holy One’s ass and take Rachel home. But even if he could figure out how to succeed against two hundred, he couldn’t make the attempt, and that put him on edge. He was approaching the compound, knowing he might get his own ass kicked instead, and that pissed him off even more.

But it had to be done. And there was a bright side. He’d been looking for a target ever since he’d watched Rachel leave, and the man at the gate gave him one. Nate met the twenty-something guy halfway to the guard’s station and left him on the ground, out cold. He could’ve taken the second guard, too, but he purposely hesitated long enough to let the man set off an alarm. He couldn’t fight too well or he’d reveal his training.

When the bell sounded, people poured out of the Enlightenment Hall like ants. Nate could hear them coming, the pounding of their feet, the shouts that rang through the air. “It’s Rachel’s husband!” “There’s a fight!” “Get Bart!”

Nathan knocked the second guard down and turned to face the two men who reached him first. It was a relief to be active, to discharge some of the anxiety that’d built up over the past hours. He managed to plow his fist into someone’s nose and to land a jab with his left hand, but after three or four punches they swarmed him. They were kicking him and hitting him from all sides, so he really let loose, but it was no good. There were at least forty—far too many.

“He’s a tough son of a bitch,” someone grunted as his foot connected with one body part or another.

Nate tried to draw his arm back to throw another punch but couldn’t move. They had a tight hold on every limb and were forcing him to the ground.

“He’s drunk. I can smell it on his breath.” This came from a man who shoved a knee in Nate’s gut. But Nate wasn’t drunk. He’d had a few beers and intentionally spilled some on his shirt, just to make his actions and demands appear authentic. The better he played his part the safer Rachel would be. Or so he hoped.

“Get my wife!” he shouted. “I want my wife. Rachel!” He sounded drunk, even to his own ears. Drunk and enraged. But only the enraged part was real.

“Where’s Ethan?” someone called. “If this guy gets loose…”

“He won’t get loose,” another man said. Then white-hot pain rocked through him as a fist slammed into his jaw.

Rattled, Nate shook his head to clear away the stars that burst across his vision, but the faces crowding around him, staring down at him, didn’t immediately come into focus.

“Rachel!” Nate called again, his voice growing hoarse. “Get my wife!”

“Why? It won’t do you any good to see her,” someone said.

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