The sound of footsteps echoing through the comm and then the shutting of a door signaled Brumley’s departure.

Son of a bitch!

“What’s the ETA, Baker?” Cole demanded.

“Fucking traffic!” Baker snarled. “It’s not far but this is balls, man. It’s balls!”

They all went quiet again when more came through P.J.’s wire.

“Why the tears?” Nelson asked mockingly. “Surely he wasn’t that bad. Most women fight over the honor to be his lover. But maybe you’ll like me better.”

Cole covered his ears, no longer able to bear to hear anything more. When he looked up, he could read the expressions of the others.

They’d gotten the information they’d needed after all. Brumley had spilled the details of the shipment of girls.

But at what cost? At what fucking cost? Something so precious that it gutted Cole to even dwell on what the success of this mission had cost P.J.

As much as it shamed Cole, he’d give it all back and never know how to save those girls if he could take back what had just happened to P.J.

CHAPTER 11

P.J. lay sprawled on the couch, pain knifing through her body as surely as the blade had cut into her skin. Nelson loomed over her but he was frowning. He didn’t like passive women. He’d said as much.

Well that was fine because the drug was starting to wear off and if the asshole gave her just a little more time, he was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands, because she wasn’t going to lie here and take it like she’d been forced to do for Brumley.

Rage ate at her. It was acid in her blood, eating a hole in her very soul.

There was nothing more horrific than being so helpless that she hadn’t been able to move. She could barely speak. And it hadn’t been enough for the bastard to rape her. He’d gotten off on making her bleed.

The smell of her own blood gagged her. It was an assault to her senses. Smeared all over the front of her body where he made the jagged cuts. He hadn’t minded the mess. He’d wallowed in it like a gluttonous pig.

Nelson left the room and P.J. immediately tested her ability to move. Some of the lead had left her limbs and she could move both arms and legs. She looked around for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. She wasn’t strong enough to get off the couch yet, but she could make the bastard sorry he’d ever touched her.

To her utter shock, the knife that Brumley had used on her was on the coffee table just a few inches from her grasp. She leaned as far as she could, straining and reaching for the blade.

She bumped it, sending it into a slight spin. Swearing mentally, she tried again, wincing when the edge sliced into her fingers. It was a small price to pay for pulling it closer.

She turned it so she could grasp the hilt and then she took it, transferring it to the hand closest to the inside of the couch, and then tucked her hand between the back of the couch and her side.

Nelson returned a moment later with a damp cloth and set about cleaning the smeared blood. He frowned when he realized she was still bleeding from the cuts.

He looked . . . pissed.

“There was no point in this,” he muttered. “No need to cut you at all, much less so deep. You need stitches.”

An odd thing to say when he planned to kill her. What the fuck did it matter if she was sliced open?

“Please,” she rasped out, trying to buy more time. “I’m just an American college student. I was out for a good time. I don’t even know who you are. I just want to go home. No one will ever know.”

Nelson’s lips thinned into a firm line. “I have orders.”

He wiped at most of the blood and then finally gave up. He rose, and she was appalled to see the bulge at his groin. Despite his seeming disgust, he was certainly turned on, blood or not.

“I wanted you to be able to fight,” he said in irritation. “It’s not fun when you just lie there.”

Come get some, bastard. You’ll get your fight.

He unzipped his pants, not even bothering to remove them. He shoved them down his hips and then he yanked her legs apart and was on her and inside her in a brutally painful thrust that momentarily paralyzed her in her shock.

“Come on, bitch, fight me,” he snarled.

“Be careful what you ask for, asshole,” she hissed.

His eyes widened in surprise just as she nailed him right in the jaw with enough force to break it. Pain lanced through her fingers, but she ignored it. Then she raised the hand holding the knife and plunged it into his back.

He howled in pain and immediately rolled off her, ripping himself from inside her. She struggled upward, fighting the effects of the drugs. Her weapon was gone and now it was up to her wits to escape alive.

And then the roar of an engine and bright headlights flooded the entire living room. It was obvious that whatever it was, it was coming straight for them.

Nelson scrambled away and bolted for the back, his hand reaching for the knife as he went. The knife clattered to the floor and P.J. lunged for it, prepared to defend herself however necessary.

A moment later the living room exploded in glass and debris as a utility van crashed through the front windows. She threw herself onto the floor and covered her head to protect herself.

“P.J.! P.J.! Goddamn it, where are you?” Cole roared.

She sagged in relief, her strength gone. Her team. It was her team. Finally here. She was safe. Nothing else would hurt her.

Suddenly Steele was over her, his eyes so intense and full of hatred that she flinched.

“He escaped out the back,” she said hoarsely. “He’s bleeding. Don’t let him get away. Don’t let that bastard get away.”

Steele turned and barked to the others. “Stay with P.J. Van and I are going after Nelson.”

Steele moved beyond her, Donovan on his heels. And then she found herself carefully enfolded in a strong pair of arms.

Cole.

She’d know him anywhere. Could smell him.

She buried her face in his chest as shame crashed over her.

“P.J., P.J., sweetheart. Oh my God, baby. Oh my God.”

It seemed to be all he could say as he rocked her back and forth, his heart beating like a drum against her broken body.

“I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Pain screamed through her system and she let out a whimper she could no longer call back. Now that she was safe, her barriers were down. The adrenaline rush was gone. She had nothing, no buffers to what had happened. She’d been raped by two men and sliced open like some piece of meat.

Where was there for her to go? To hide? They would all see her. Her shame. And know that she hadn’t been able to prevent what had happened.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I’ve got you,” Cole whispered, his voice choked. It sounded like he had tears, but she was nearly unconscious now.

“Blood. All over you,” she managed to whisper.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said fiercely. “I’m getting you the hell out of here. You need medical attention.”

She shook her head, trying to grasp his shirt to gain his attention. But there was something wrong with one of her hands, and in the other she still gripped the knife she’d plunged into Nelson’s back.

Cole gently took hold of her hand and pried the knife away, closing it with a click.

“No!” she protested.

She struggled, trying to reach for the knife again. She wanted it, damn it.

Cole pressed the closed knife into her palm in an effort to soothe her and she gripped it until it left indentations in her skin.

She had to remain conscious. This was too important. It could mean her life. It could mean the lives of those baby girls. She would do anything to spare them what she’d endured, and they’d fair much worse. They didn’t have her team. They had no one. She had to save them or her very soul had been sacrificed for nothing.

“P.J. Ah hell, P.J. Talk to us. Don’t go out. Not yet. Come on.”

It was Dolphin. He’d hunkered down next to Cole. And Baker. She could hear him and Renshaw arguing over who stayed and who went to help Steele and Donovan go after the bastard who did this to her.

She smiled faintly, so in shock that it seemed appropriate to smile even amid all the blood and horror of what had happened.

But then she refocused and remembered the objective. She reached for Cole’s shirt, shocked at how weak she was. Her fingers wouldn’t curl and she ended up flailing uselessly at his neck.

He captured her hand and held it to his lips. He quivered beneath her touch and she realized how hard he was shaking. He was losing it. Right here in front of everyone.

“The girls,” she said, rousing every ounce of her flagging strength. “He mentioned them. Said the pickup was tomorrow night.”

“I know, baby. We heard. We heard every goddamn thing,” he said in a tortured voice.

It was a reminder, a slap to her face. Yeah, she knew they’d heard, but his words just brought home how public her humiliation had been.

“Have to save them.”

Tears of pain crowded her vision, and she hated that she couldn’t be stronger. She hated that these sons of bitches had managed to subdue her and force her to submit to their depravities.

She was fading fast, and she had to make sure those girls would be taken care of. If she didn’t, she’d see their faces right alongside the faces of her rapists every night in her dreams.

“Promise you’ll save them,” she whispered. “Promise me. No matter what happens to me. You can’t let this happen to them. They’re just babies. So scared.”

She choked off before she said, “like I was.” But she knew they’d heard the unspoken words. Could hear them in her tone.

A loud clatter from the direction where Donovan and Steele had run made her teammates draw their weapons and surround her. Cole’s grip tightened on her and then Donovan was there, pressing in close.

“Talk to me, P.J.,” Donovan said in a low voice. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“C-cold.” She turned her face upward, her head so heavy she could barely manage the feat.

He all but pushed Cole out of the way and took P.J. into his own arms, lowering her to the floor.

“Get me something to wrap around her,” he ordered.

“What about the cuts?” Cole asked hoarsely.

P.J. struggled not to succumb to the blackness surrounding her. “Where’s Nelson? Did you get the bastard?”

She’d never forget the look on Donovan’s face as long as she lived. It was full of regret, rage and guilt.

“He escaped. He had a car parked behind the house, and our first priority is you. We’ll find him, P.J. I swear to you we’ll make that son of a bitch pay.”

She closed her eyes, tears leaking down her cheeks in hot trails.

“We’ll get you to the hospital,” Donovan said. “You won’t hurt much longer.”

He was wrong. So very wrong. She couldn’t imagine ever not hurting. Some hurts were so deep, beneath the skin. Soul deep.

“Not here. Take me home. He owns this city. I don’t trust anyone here. Just take me home and find those girls.”

Cole leaned down as Donovan carefully arranged a blanket over her body. He smoothed her hair back and kissed her brow. “I’ll do whatever you want, P.J. Whatever you need, baby. I swear it.”

Steele knelt and framed her face in his strong hands. His blue eyes bore into her with burning intensity.

“We’ll get the girls, P.J. But right now we’re going to take care of you.”

She nodded weakly and closed her eyes, welcoming the yawning abyss where she floated free of pain and shame.

CHAPTER 12

THEY bundled P.J. into the back of the van, and Baker hopped into the driver’s seat while Cole and Donovan took positions by P.J.

Cole managed to pry the knife from her fingers without her protest this time, but he pocketed it because she’d been adamant about keeping it. Then he closed his hand around hers, unwilling to let her think even for a moment that he wasn’t right here, by her side. That her entire team wasn’t surrounding her.

“What do you think, Van?” Cole asked, trying to control the anxiety in his voice. “That bastard cut her up pretty bad. She’s lost a lot of blood, not to mention that he . . .”

He closed his eyes and looked away, unable to say the word rape. The bastards had raped her. They’d put their hands on her. They’d brutalized her. And he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it.

“I want to get her to the airfield,” Donovan said grimly. “The sooner we get her loaded and take off, the better. I’ll work on her while we’re in the air.”

“What about Sunday? What about those girls?”

“As soon as P.J. is stable, I’m putting a call in to Sam. He’ll have to call in Rio and his team. They’ll have to be briefed so they know what they’re up against.”

“I want those bastards,” Cole said through gritted teeth.