“No,” I whisper despondently, not recognizing my own voice.
“Travis,” Stryker warns, “we should’ve had this done by now.” My brows furrow together. I’ve never heard Stryker use that tone with Travis before. What’s going on?
“Fine, but I’m not leaving her side for a second,” he mutters at Stryker, even though he’s still holding my gaze. His lips press together in a hard line, apparently not happy about something. “Jules, we’ve gotta get that implant out of your hip now,” he explains. “I’m sorry. I know you’re out of sorts, but we have to do this, and do it quickly.” Out of sorts? What does he mean? The confusion must be written all over my face, because he asks, “You don’t remember anything, do you?”
I shake my head slowly, and then flick my gaze behind Travis, noticing we’re in the back of a huge van. “Baby, you passed out after—”
“Now’s not the time, Travis,” Stryker interrupts with impatience. Travis flashes him a quick and dirty look. He carefully lifts me off his lap and lays me down on the floor of the van.
“What’s going on?” I surprise myself by being highly compliant, and not being the least bit interested in getting up off the floor, all while demanding answers.
Stryker comes into view and squats in front of me while he snaps on a pair of surgical gloves. “Jules, we need to get this tracker out of your hip, STAT.” I tense at his terseness. He moves with quick efficiency, and then a big medical bag comes into view. Travis must feel me tensing, because he immediately lowers himself onto the floor and spoons me from behind. He slips his arm underneath my head, which acts as a pillow, and then rests his weight on his forearm as he peers over me.
He places his lips on the outer shell of my ear, giving me a light kiss. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispers, and I find myself relaxing at his words. Travis has always had my back from the beginning; he’s proven it time and again. “Don’t mind Stryker.” He explains, “When he pulls out the medical bag, he gets in his zone. He’s all work and no play.” He pauses to look at Stryker, and then teases him, “It makes him look kinda sexy, don’t you think?”
“Don’t fuck with me right now, Trav,” Stryker fires back, irritated as he concentrates on filling up a needled syringe. Another needle and more drugs? My eyes go wide. Okay, now they’ve got my attention. No longer feeling safe in Travis’ arms, I begin to struggle, wanting to get up.
“Jules, dammit, hold still.” Travis wraps his large thigh around my legs while his free hand wraps around my arms, trapping me tightly against his chest. I start to panic, my heart thundering in my chest. I’m feeling claustrophobic.
“Baby, relax. It’s just local anesthesia. I promise, no drugs,” he quickly reassures me. Then Stryker places his hand on my thigh and squeezes just enough to get my attention. My eyes are wide with anxiety as I look at him. His expression softens significantly as he finally realizes I’m not one of his hardcore men. He makes an effort to speak in a calmer voice. “Please…we’re only trying to keep everyone here alive. I promise I will have this out quick, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”
My mouth suddenly turns dry, and I swallow hard. “Okay,” I say with a shaky breath.
Stryker blows out a gust of air I didn’t realize he was holding, and then he pats the side of my leg in a reassuring gesture. Travis relaxes his hold on me too, and I sink back into the comfort of his chest. “That’s my girl. It’s going to be okay,” he whispers as he lets go of my arms, and begins to stroke my cheek with the back of his knuckles using a soft, feather-light touch.
I turn to look at Travis, whose eyes look almost sorrowful. “Where are the other guys?”
“They’re surrounding the van, making sure we’re protected while we do this.”
Stryker unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down past my hips, and Travis growls.
“Whoa there, caveman,” Stryker says, holding up his hands. “That’s as far as I need to go. Just hold her underwear off her hip, and we’re good.”
“Damn straight that’s as far as you go,” Travis barks back in a predatory tone.
I take in a deep breath, slowly exhale, and then close my eyes. I so do not want to see this.
Nick
“Why does it seem as if you’re on a wild fucking goose chase?” I ask Justin, irritated.
“That’s because we kind of are,” he responds with frustration lining his voice. I sent him and a few more of my men into Raleigh after the fiasco ensued at Travis’ cabin. I was down three men and pissed off beyond measure.