situation is raking in too much media. It needs containment now.â
Sebastian stilled. âKershawâs here. Heâs after Olivia. Iâll get him.â
âIâm pulling you off duty. Take some personal time.â
âKershawâs mine.â
âYouâre too emotionally involved.â
What no one realized was that he always got emotionally involved. All he had to do was think of the victim and he couldnât help it. He couldnât walk away from Kershaw. Not when he was after Olivia. âI canââ
âBull! If it comes to choosing between Kershaw and your wife, youâll pick your wife. Why do you think I donât have any ties?â
It wasnât a question, but a simple statement of fact. For Sutton, the Service and life were one and the same.
âI know Kershaw.â Sebastian bit his words to contain the temper swirling like a hurricane about to beach. âI know how his mind worksââ
âHow are you going to handle this?â
âSolo.â
Sutton swore again.
âI want carte blanche,â Sebastian pushed on as a plan formed in his mind. âI want a clear path in the field. I donât want roadblocks from the locals. But if I need something, I donât want to have to ask twice.â
âThatâs not how we operate.â
âIâve never let you down.â
âThis isnât the time to go for glory.â
Sebastian sneered. This was a bust that would garner attention, and Sutton wanted itâpreferably before the Feebs beat him to it. âIf it was glory I wanted, I couldâve had it years ago. Iâve let you take the credit for every one of my collars. I made my bones a long time ago. I donât have anything to prove.â
âWhat about Olivia?â
The mention of Olivia brought back the image of her bruised face in 3-D color. He resumed his pacing. âWhat about her?â
âWhoâs going to watch over her while youâre out enforcing the law?â
No, not the law. Justice.
And there was the pinch.
Hunter and husband. Duty and love. And in the middle, justice and obligation. He owed both to Olivia.
The lone eagle. The clean-up guy. The guy who got the job done. People thought he worked alone because he didnât trust anyone. That wasnât the reason. He worked alone because he didnât want the responsibility of someone elseâs life on his shoulders. If he got himself killed, then it was his tough luck. He already had three souls on his conscience; he didnât want any more.
But he had a shoulderful of responsibility now. Olivia was here, in this hospital bed, in a coma, because of him, because of what he did, because of his need to rid the world of scum. Marrying her ten years ago was an act of selfishness. He knew it then; he knew it now. Heâd tried to protect her.
And failed.
She was his strength. She was the one weakness he wasnât able to resist. And she was paying for his flaw. Heâd gambled with her safetyâand lost.
He closed his eyes and up popped the image of that purple-black bruise marring the left side of her too-white face. For once, he had to make her his priority. He had to stay by her side until she was well. And when she was, they would have to redraw the boundaries of their relationship.
How could he live without hunting? It was in his blood. Yet how could he live without Olivia? She was his soul.
When in doubt, act. If he couldnât physically leave, then heâd have to figure out a different way to track.
âGive me a team,â Sebastian said. Teamwork wasnât his strength, but for now he was grounded. Someone else would have to do the flying. If he couldnât do the hunting, then he wanted to head the team that would. âIâll find him.â
âA team?â
âFour men.â With four men, he could cover his target. If he had to operate with a team, he wanted men he could trust. âGrayson Reed. Noah Kingsley. Dominic Skyralov. Sabriel Mercer.â
Sutton whistled. âThe best of the best.â
âDo you want this circus over or not?â
A heartbeat. Two. âIâll set it up.â
Sebastian punched out. The win should have felt good. It didnât.
Kershaw was on the loose. Olivia was his target. And heâd have to depend on others to catch his prey.
SHE AWOKE THIS TIME to a view of night through a window. Clouds raced across the moon, leaving a moving trail of patchy light on the gray linoleum floor. The metallic click of an artificial pulse kept her own company. The strong smell of sickness and floor wax twitched her nose. The blanket covering her right arm was strangely heavy.
When she moved her head to look at the warm weight, pain shrieked like a banshee and zigzagged through her brain with a lightning burn. The room spun around her. Her vision dimmed. Nausea rose and fell with roller coaster sharpness.
Whatâs happening? Where am I?
Suddenly a hard and warm wall caught her. She fought against the strangling hold until a calming murmur penetrated through the roar in her mind. âOlivia, shh, itâs okay. Iâm here.â
Olivia? Who was Olivia? Limbs shaking, she clung to the solidness of the man holding her to steady herself. Who was he? Why was he here? Did she know him?
âDo you want me to call a nurse?â
Nurse? âNo,â she croaked.
âAre you dizzy? The doctor said that was normal.â
Doctor. A vague image like a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle reassembled itself in the black of her mind. Real? It seemed so opaqueâas if the glue holding the pieces together wasnât quite dry. Yesterday? Today? Brown hair streaked with white. Droopy face. Hospital. Someoneâthe man holding her?âanswering a myriad of questions whose answers didnât mean a thing to her. Was she making up the impatience that throbbed from him like the boom of a drum? Accident. She was in an accident. At least thatâs what the man said. Car, heâd said. And the scarecrow woman, too. Her voice, thin and sharp like her body, had mixed words into a whirl until none made sense.
Then the doctor had poked and prodded, asking her to do all sorts of thingsâsmile, chew, swallow, follow his
