Steel Vengeance (Blackthorn Security #6)

Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

T he door slammed behind him, the heavy thud echoing like a final punctuation to days that had felt like a never-ending interrogation. Stitch inhaled deeply, the cold, sharp October air of D.C. filling his lungs, reminding him that he was free .

He still couldn’t believe it. After all those days of being dragged through one sterile government office after another, the grilling, the endless hours of trying to keep his story straight—it had finally worked. He was out. Walking across the parking lot, he tugged his worn jacket tighter around him, trying to shake off the disbelief. The Department of Defense had bought it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he bought it. But with Pat and his former commander arguing in his corner, they’d convinced the brass that his disappearance was part of a covert op—off the books, a black mission so sensitive that no one had clearance to know about it.

Pat had done most of the talking, but the story stuck. His supposed undercover work had “led” to the exposure of a heroin smuggling ring operating out of Afghanistan. Apparently, that was enough to sway the decision-makers. In their eyes, he wasn’t a liability anymore—he was a goddamn hero, a “valuable asset to the U.S. government.” He huffed out a laugh. What a crock of shit .

The truth was, it was all a lucky coincidence. Yes, he’d survived after the ambush in the valley. Yes, he’d been working with a local tribe to track down the people responsible, but he hadn’t been some covert hero on a mission. He’d been surviving, trying to make sense of his life, trying to forget... her.

But none of that mattered now. He was free, and he had Pat to thank for it.

A black SUV pulled up, the familiar silhouette of Patrick Burke behind the wheel. Pat had been waiting for him, as always. Stitch slid into the passenger seat, feeling the weariness of the past few days catch up with him.

“You look like hell,” Pat said, glancing over at him as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Stitch grunted. “Feels like it.”

Pat smirked, but his voice held a note of sympathy. “You did good back there. Kept your cool. Most guys would’ve folded under the pressure. They really had you under the microscope.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I had a choice.” He leaned his head back against the seat, staring out the window at the city lights. “You think they really bought it?”

Pat’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “They didn’t have a choice. Between your intel and the heroin ring takedown, we gave them just enough to make it worth their while to keep you out of a cell. Plus, Mattison owed me a favor, so that didn’t hurt.”

Stitch shook his head. “I still can’t believe it worked. I was prepared to be locked up for a long time.”

Pat let out a low chuckle. “You and me both. But they see you as an asset now, and that’s all that matters. You’re out.”

Stitch looked over at him. “So what now? You really think I can just walk away from this?”

Pat gave him a sidelong glance. “Depends on what you want. You’re a free man, Stitch. You’ve got options. But... if you’re looking for a way to stay in the game, I’ve got a place for you at Blackthorn. We could use someone like you.”

Stitch didn’t answer right away, the offer hanging in the air between them. Pat had always been straight with him, always had his back. If there was one person he could trust, it was him. But the thought of going back into the field, of putting his life on the line again... he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Sloane.

“I’ll think about it,” Stitch finally said, his voice low. “But right now, all I want is to see her.”

Pat smiled. “That’s why we’re heading there now. Sloane’s holed up at a motel just outside the city with Phoenix. Blade had to head back to D.C. for some work, but Phoenix is keeping an eye on things.”

Stitch’s heart raced at the mention of her name. Sloane. The thought of her waiting for him, not knowing if he’d even make it out of this mess... it tore at him. He hadn’t told her he’d been released. He wanted to see the look on her face when he walked through the door.

“Thanks for doing this,” Stitch said, glancing over at Pat as they sped down the highway.

“You don’t need to thank me. You earned this. And hey, just think about my offer. We’re building something special with Blackthorn, and I know you’d be a perfect fit.”

Stitch nodded, but his mind was already elsewhere—on Sloane, on what it would feel like to hold her again. He wasn’t the same man he’d been before, not after everything they’d been through, but maybe, just maybe, they could start fresh. If she still wanted him.

The motel came into view, a dingy, low-rise building with a faded sign that flickered in the night. Pat pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. The place was just as grim as Blade had described—no one would look for them here. Stitch’s stomach clenched with anticipation as he climbed out of the SUV.

Pat clapped him on the shoulder. “Go get her, man. You deserve this.”

Stitch took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Pat.”

He walked across the cracked pavement toward the room number Pat had given him, his pulse pounding in his ears. His hand trembled slightly as he knocked on the door. For a moment, there was silence. Then he heard movement on the other side, the sound of footsteps approaching.

The door swung open, and there stood Phoenix, holding a hand to his head. Blood seeped between his fingers, his eyes unfocused, his usually steady stance wavering like he was trying to find solid ground beneath him.

Stitch’s heart lurched. “What the hell happened?”

Phoenix blinked slowly, his face pale. “I—" He stumbled, gripping the doorframe to keep from collapsing. "I went outside... heard something.” His voice slurred, eyes darting past Stitch’s shoulder like he was still trying to make sense of it all. “Someone hit me.”

Stitch’s blood ran cold, adrenaline surging through his veins. “Where’s Sloane?”

Phoenix’s head dipped, his body swaying, and the silence that followed felt like a knife twisting in Stitch’s gut.

"Where the hell is Sloane?" Stitch barked, grabbing Phoenix by the shoulders, giving him a sharp shake.

Phoenix winced, pulling his hand away from his blood-matted hair, his gaze finally locking on Stitch’s. “She’s gone. Matthew... it was Matthew. He took her."

The world tilted.

Stitch felt his grip tighten on Phoenix’s jacket, white-knuckling the fabric. His mind raced, the pulse pounding in his ears nearly drowning out the words coming from Phoenix’s mouth.

"I looked up and saw him," Phoenix muttered, his voice hoarse, slurred from the blow. "Just before he took off with her."

Matthew. The name was like acid burning through Stitch's brain, his fists clenching, every muscle in his body coiling like a spring ready to snap. He’d had her—right here, where she was supposed to be safe—and now she was gone.

“ How long? ” The words were more of a growl, raw and guttural. His mind was already racing with calculations—how long it would take Matthew to get out of D.C., how far he could’ve gone by now.

Phoenix swayed again, grabbing the doorframe tighter. “Maybe... half an hour. I don’t know, Stitch. Everything’s... hazy.”

“Half an hour...” Stitch released him, mind reeling. He turned sharply, heading back toward the SUV, his heart thudding like a drumbeat. Matthew had a head start, but it wasn’t enough to disappear—not yet.

“Pat!” he yelled as he stormed back toward the car, where Pat had stayed behind, watching from the vehicle. He slammed a fist on the hood to get his attention.

Pat opened the door, eyes narrowing as he saw Phoenix leaning weakly against the doorway. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Matthew’s got her,” Stitch ground out, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts. “He hit Phoenix, took Sloane. He’s on the run.”

Pat’s expression hardened instantly. “Goddamn it.”

“We don’t have time to wait for backup,” Stitch snapped, already yanking open the passenger door, his mind racing through every possible escape route Matthew could have taken. He could feel the rage bubbling under his skin, the desperation. “He’s not getting away this time. I swear to God, Pat?—”

“I know,” Pat said, sliding into the driver’s seat with grim determination. “We’ll find him.”

They had to. There was no other option. Sloane was out there, with a man who would stop at nothing to destroy them both. But this time, Stitch wasn’t going to let him get away.

Not again. Not with her.

Pat started the engine, and with a screech of tires, they tore out of the motel parking lot, heading into the dark, toward whatever hell awaited them next.