Chapter Six.

Sam leaned against the glass bar as he watched Natalie strut around the pool from behind his mirrored sunglasses. She was young, provocative, and a pain in the royal ass. Executive Bodyguards had rescued her from men out to extort her father, a wealthy Russian business owner-Aleksei Vitaye-who was currently living in a swanky mansion near Atlanta, Georgia.

It had been an extraction assignment, but T-Rex wanted to stick around for a few extra days to make sure there was no retaliation. Since freeing Natalie from a small town outside Krasnoyarsk, she had been flirting with Sam, batting her eyelashes and finding any damn excuse to "accidentally" brush up against him.

He was currently trying to make sure she stayed on her side of the pool and didn't come near him.

His cell phone rang. Sam checked it and didn't recognize the number. He moved to the side of the covered bar and answered. "Sam Reynolds."

"I'm sorry to bother you."

The voice wasn't familiar. "Who is this?"

"I'm Cameron Langley, Taylor's roommate."

"How'd you get my number?" Sam glanced over at the pool and felt his jaw grow tight when Natalie began to sashay toward the bar. Her bikini couldn't even be considered clothing. There was nothing there but three patches of tiny cloth and a handful of strings.

Glancing around quickly, he spotted Stripper standing close by. The man was wearing a silk Armani suit and looked damned good, but uncomfortable as hell.

Sam was waiting for Stripper to give in and shed his clothes, but he remained professional.

Sam tapped Stripper on his shoulder and nodded toward Natalie. Stripper gave him a shit-eating grin and nodded. The man had been playing interference for Sam anytime she tried to get close.

"I found your number on Taylor's dresser."

Sam ignored the situation at the pool and gave Cameron his full attention. He noted something strange in the man's voice and asked, "Is Taylor all right?"

"That's just it," Cameron said. "I didn't know who else to call. I haven't seen him in two days. He didn't show up for work today, which isn't like him. Taylor is dependable above all else."

Sam tried to think of anything Taylor might have said to him to give him a clue as to the man's state of mind. Their phone conversation had gone fine, with no hint of anything amiss. "I'll look into things and call you back."

"Thank you," Cameron said, and then added, "I called you instead of the sheriff because for one, I'm not sure how hard the cops will look for him. And two"-Cameron's tone lowered and there was hesitation in his voice-"Taylor seems to be opening up to you. That itself is a miracle."

"I'll call you back." Sam hung up and walked through the back of the house in search of T-Rex. His shoes echoed on the highly polished floor as he cut through the elaborately decorated dining room and made his way to Aleksei's office. He nodded at a few servants, passed antique furniture that had been shipped from Siberia-according to Aleksei-and knocked on a large oak door.

Mr. Vitaye's personal bodyguard opened the door.

"I need to speak with Mr. Rexford." Sam peered past the man to see T-Rex talking softly with Aleksei. The bodyguard nodded and stepped aside.

The Russian smiled and held his amber-filled glass up to Sam. "How are things going?"

Translation, have you and my daughter hit it off yet?

"Fine, thank you." Sam turned to T-Rex. "A private moment?"

T-Rex excused himself and walked across the burgundy carpet. His voice was low when he spoke. "Is something wrong?"

Sam had explained to T-Rex on the flight to retrieve Natalie that he had a strong feeling that Taylor was his mate. T-Rex had been ready to send Sam back home.

But Sam knew the team needed him. Although Colton was Siberian and could speak the native tongue-which was a great asset to them all-they had headed into a small town that was known for mob activity. The place had been poverty stricken, with prostitutes, vagrants, and more crime than any city in the United States. It had taken all of them working as a synchronized unit to get Natalie out of there.

"Taylor hasn't been seen in two days." Sam glanced at Aleksei who was speaking to his bodyguard.

"Have Colton put a trace on Taylor's cell phone while you catch a flight out of here."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked. "I don't want to bail on you."

T-Rex gave a low snort. "It's nothing but politics now. Miss Vitaye is under heavy guard and isn't allowed to go running off with her friends. We'll be heading out tomorrow. Go."

Sam nodded his thanks and hunted Colton down. He gave the man Taylor's phone number and then Sam grabbed his gear and headed to the nearest airport.

He called Colton while in flight. "Anything?"

"His phone is still on, which allowed me to track his GPS coordinates. From the looks of it, he's still in Bear County. Call me when you hit town and I'll guide you to him."

Sam tried not to let his nerves unravel on the plane. He tried not to think of the worst-case scenario. During his military career, he'd seen things that would give most sane men nightmares. And during his time with Executive Bodyguards, he'd traveled all over the world. Quiet as it was kept, the government kept them on retainer, sending Sam and his teammates into hostile situations that the policy makers on the hill wouldn't risk their own men for-private-sector operations that they didn't want to be associated with.

He'd looked the worst scum in the face and seen unimaginable horrors. But it was the unspeakable things done to children that haunted Sam the most. A few years back, Sam and the others had been hired to rescue some oil tycoon's daughter who had gone missing. The mission had been simple enough, until they'd entered that warehouse and Sam had realized they'd stepped into a child pornography ring.

That had stayed with him for almost a year. He'd waken up screaming, seeing eyes that were no longer innocent, reaching out in his dark bedroom to help children who weren't there.

That mission had scarred a part of Sam. It was something he didn't think he'd every recover from. To see those small faces and what those sick sons of bitches were doing... Sam closed his eyes and willed the memory away.

Most bear shifters craved a family. It was embedded in their DNA to want children. Sam didn't. That lone mission had killed any yearning he'd held inside of him. It had taken a piece of his soul.

He despised anyone who used their strength against the weak, who forced themselves on innocent beings.

Breathing out his toxic memories, Sam exited the plane when it landed, retrieved his gear, and then went outside to meet Legend. He had called his friend before getting on the plane and asked Legend to pick him up from the airport.

Sam wasn't in a conversing mood. He stored his bag in the trunk and then rode in silence back to Bear County. Once home, he changed out of his suit and then jumped into his ride, calling Colton.

Colton guided him to a remote part of the county, an out-of-the-way area that wasn't easy to find from the road. How in the hell did Taylor end up here?

"If you need help, let me know. I'll call Legend," Colton said.

When he spotted the ass-end of a silver Prizm, Sam eased his truck to a stop and then killed the motor. He didn't see anyone inside the vehicle.

"I'm going to need someone to pick up Taylor's car." Sam gave Colton the coordinates and then hung up.

He slid from his truck, glancing around, but he didn't see Taylor or anyone else. He approached the car slowly and then glanced inside. In the backseat, Taylor was slumped over.

With his heart in his throat, Sam yanked the back door open and checked Taylor's pulse. It was strong and steady. He turned the man over but didn't see any visible injuries. He ran his hands over Taylor, checking for broken bones.

When Sam lifted Taylor's shirt to see if he had any bruising, his entire world came to an abrupt halt.

Ugh.

Taylor opened his bleary eyes and tried to figure out where he was. His mouth tasted like crap and his stomach felt like someone had dumped something noxious into him. The room was dark, which was good, but it didn't tell him anything worth knowing. He didn't think he could handle any bright lights right now. But he knew he wasn't in his own bed.

He didn't own a mattress this damn soft.

"Mr. Hennessy is awake."

Sam.

He closed his eyes and prayed that this was some strange dream and that Sam was not standing close by. He sifted through his memories, trying to figure out how he'd ended up in this bedroom. He got nothing. Taylor's head hammered and his tongue felt as fuzzy as a towel.

The bed dipped and so did Taylor's stomach.

As the fogginess began to lift, Taylor stiffened. Where were his clothes? He was lying under a soft sheet, stark naked. Had they...?

Something brushed over his hair. Sam's fingers. "How do you feel?"

Taylor wasn't sure how to answer that question. Was Sam talking about his obvious hangover or the possible sex they might've had? Since his entire body ached, he wasn't sure if he'd given it up.

If he had, he was pissed as hell that he couldn't remember anything.

"What am I doing here?" Taylor asked. "And where is here?"

"You're in an insane asylum and I'm your new caretaker." There was humor in Sam's tone. The familiar teasing banter eased Taylor in ways he didn't think possible. Just having Sam nearby helped Taylor keep his shit together.

"Does this asylum serve coffee?" Taylor shook his head and tried to will the memories to come back. He'd been doing laundry. Sam had called. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug further.

And then it hit him. Todd.

Taylor had gotten a bottle at the liquor store and had driven to a remote area to get trashed. He's shouted and cried and done everything in between as he and Hennessy became intimate friends.

He tried to sit up and the instant vertigo told him that he'd finished the entire bottle.

"As long as you don't puke everywhere, I'll go grab you some coffee," Sam said and then the bed jerked slightly. He heard retreating footsteps.

With great effort, Taylor slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. He wiped at his mouth and cringed at how disgusting his tongue felt. What he wouldn't give for a toothbrush right now. He also needed a hot shower.

And then it dawned on him. If he was naked, had Sam seen his scars? Had the man balked in horror at the crisscross of lines that made up Taylor's back? Did Sam view him as Frankenstein's monster now? Taylor scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing the nausea would pass.

He turned until his feet were planted firmly on the cool floor. Taylor sat there, his hands pressed into the mattress, his head hanging. Why in the fuck had his stepmother given Todd his number? Taylor had only left it with her in case something happened to his father. Even though Bruce had disowned him, Taylor still cared and made Patty promise to call if there was ever an emergency.

He knew she never would. The woman had been only too relieved when Taylor moved out. Her last words were "good riddance." But Todd had always been a charmer and would have sweet-talked the number from her. But why now? Why a year later? Why hadn't Todd gone to her sooner?

Sam returned and Taylor started to wrap the sheet around himself to cover his back, but the lights remained off. Sam navigated the room with ease before he sat back down and handed Taylor a hot mug of coffee. The aroma filled his lungs and he sighed at the smell.

Taylor took a sip and then asked, "Why aren't you lecturing me?" It was what Cameron had done the last time Taylor tried to drown his sorrows. Not at first, though. But when Taylor's drinking had started interfering with his everyday life, his best friend had stepped in and gone all parent on him.

But it wasn't Cameron's lectures that had pulled Taylor out of his slump. It had been the knowledge that he was wrecking himself and he would end up losing the only friend he'd ever had.

"We all have our reasons for trying to forget." Sam spoke as if he'd known great pain. "We all have our different ways of coping."

Taylor took another sip. The coffee had just the right amount of cream. Sam had remembered how he liked it. "What's your nightmare?" he asked.

"Helplessness."

Taylor was surprised Sam admitted something like that. The guy was large, strong, and had a disposition that Taylor envied. He couldn't imagine Sam being afraid of anything. It was like hearing a steadfast warrior point out a chink in his armor. "Really?"

Sam gave a low, bitter laugh. "Yeah. Can't stand to see innocent people getting hurt and knowing I can't do anything to stop it."

The mug was warm in his hands and Taylor curled his fingers around it, gripping it tightly. How in the hell had he ended up with someone as golden-hearted as Sam? Better question, why was Sam so attracted to him? "I know what you mean."

"This batshit crazy world offers a variety of twisted fucks and doesn't give you an antidote once you've been exposed to them." Taylor could barely make out Sam running his hand over the nape of his neck. "But it also offers a medley of sexy little goth angels to offset the craziness."

Taylor felt himself blushing. His stomach was roiling, and his head was pounding like a tiny person was inside his skull with a jackhammer. Yet, here he sat, stealing the warmth of Sam's words to chase away the chill.

"I know a twisted fuck," Taylor whispered as he stared off into the darkness of the room. Not being able to make Sam out, being blind to his surroundings, helped Taylor speak of things he would rather keep buried.

"We all do," Sam said in a tone that matched Taylor's.

"Mine called me recently," Taylor admitted and felt the acidic lump forming in his throat. His fingers dug hard against the mug as he forced the next words out. "Threatened me."

The room fell silent. Taylor could hear the noises of the night outside-cicadas, critters he couldn't name-but the room itself was soundless. Should he have admitted that? Would Sam begin to think Taylor was more trouble than he was worth? He opened his mouth to apologize when Sam said, "The same person who hurt you?"

The man must be talking of Taylor's scars. Taylor's eyes burned, but he fought back the tears. He didn't want to seem helpless and weak in front of someone so damn strong. He didn't want Sam seeing him as a victim. He set the mug aside and curled his arms around his stomach. "Yeah."

"What did he say?"

Taylor tried to decipher the tone of Sam's voice, but it was held in tight control. The man wasn't giving anything away.

"He said he still owned me and that when he finds me, I'll be lucky if I live." Taylor stood, panic setting in as he tried to think of where he could escape to. He jerked back and forth, unsure of which direction to go.

Strong arms enveloped him and Taylor struggled to get free. He couldn't drag Sam into his sordid life. Taylor wouldn't allow Todd's toxicity to touch this man who was becoming so much to him, beginning to mean the world to him.

"Calm down, angel." Sam's tone was soothing, strong, unyielding. The heat of his body soaked into Taylor, warming him from the inside out. "No one is going to do anything to you, understand?"

Taylor didn't. How could Sam defeat a bear shifter? He couldn't. Todd would tear Sam to pieces. Taylor's shoulders began to shake as the knowledge sank in that he was trapped in a world he didn't want to be in. That the one man who seemed to care so much about him might get hurt. The tears were hot as they fell, and Taylor was helpless to stop them.

Sam's arms gripped him tighter as the man rested his chin on Taylor's head. Taylor finally began to settle down and then he squirmed. "Uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"This is really awkward. I need some clothes."

Sam's chuckle felt like warm honey sliding over him. "I kinda like it."