He peers down at me and grips a fistful of my hair. “What has she done?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hunt curses. It’s the prelude to Torian’s fist finding my jaw.
My head swings with the impact. The pain clouds my thoughts. Then the fucking phone releases its siren call again.
“He needs to answer that.” I spit blood from my mouth. “It’s probably Keira. You can get all the answers you need right from the source.”
He has to answer the fucking phone.
I need to know she’s okay.
The constant appeal for connection makes my stomach twist. You don’t call three times in a row to inform someone you’re safe. You call three times when your life is on the line and you need a shitload of help.
“I don’t want the story from her,” he drawls, releasing my hair. “I want it from you.”
“Answer the fucking phone,” I roar.
The ringtone vanishes, and I slump into the silence.
“Eventually, I’ll call her,” he taunts. “But I want to hear your version first. That way I can see which puzzle pieces match.”
I chuckle and hang my head, no longer capable of looking the son of a bitch in the eye. “Why? Do you think she’s going to lie to you? Don’t you trust your own flesh and blood?”
“If she can lie about being pregnant, I’m sure she can lie about anything.”
Jesus Christ. If he’s known this entire time, why didn’t he greet me with the accusation? Why wasn’t a gun placed to my temple the second we stepped within reach?
This asshole’s poise and tactics are beyond my fucking comprehension.
“Come on, Decker, don’t you recall what I told the nurse? I take a vested interest in knowing everything, which includes my sister’s health. I know she’s taken measures to ensure she can’t conceive.” He steps closer, the toes of his polished black shoes taking up my vision. “I’ll ask one more time—what’s the story Hunter is alluding to?”
I promised I’d protect her.
If that means I need to keep her safe from her brother, then so be it.
At the moment, he thinks she finished a job someone else started. He doesn’t know her involvement in the hit and run. He has no clue what caused the restaurant drive-by.
For now, her secrets are safe, and I won’t change that.
“Why don’t I tell you my story instead?” I raise my chin and meet his gaze. “I think you’d be more interested in my secrets.”
“Decker,” Hunter warns, “stop messing around.”
Torian glances between us as the cell trills again.
“Fucking hell, Decker.” Hunter raises his voice over the sound. “Keira’s responsible for the hit and run. She paid a guy to do the job. He’s the same guy who shot up the restaurant. And he’s the same reason lover boy here is panicked about her safety. She’s being blackmailed.”
Torian scrutinizes me, trying to find the truth through the shock. “Is that true?”
“Call. Her.” I enunciate the words slowly.
This time Hunt’s phone isn’t the one to break the silence. Torian’s ringtone rings gently from inside his jacket.
“Answer it.” I move to stand, only to be shoved back down by Luca. “Answer your fucking phone.”
He doesn’t budge. He holds my stare, asserting his authority despite the danger to his sister.
“She’s in trouble,” I beg. “I know she’s in fucking trouble. Just answer the phone. I’ll tell you everything after you speak to her.”
He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out the device, glimpsing the screen for a second before he connects the call. “Sarah?”
Sarah?
I focus on Hunt, his concern just as visible as mine is overbearing.
“Who is this?” Torian’s voice turns stony. “What do you want?”
I push to my feet and swing out a heavy elbow when Luca tries to stop me. “Either shoot me, or stop riding my fucking ass,” I snarl. “I don’t have the patience for your shit.”
“What do you want?” Torian repeats. “Touch her again and I’ll—”
Again.
My heart lurches at the word.
Touch her—again.
Someone has hurt her. Is hurting her.
“Where is she?” I reach for the phone only to have Hunt grab my wrist.
“Back off,” he warns. “Let him talk.”
Torian turns his back to us and takes steps in the opposite direction. “Where, Drake? Tell me where she is.”
Drake? There’s no second guessing who this unknown asshole might be. He’s the guy responsible for the blackmail. The hard look in Hunt’s eye says he thinks the same thing.
“Give me the phone.” I stalk after Torian. “Let me speak to him.”
“Airport Way? Which warehouse?”
“Torian, give me the phone.” I make another attempt for the cell, and this time nobody stops me. Not even Torian. I snatch the device from him and plaster it to my ear. “Drake? Keira?”
The line is dead.
“I need to go,” Torian says to Luca. “Take them back to the restaurant. Keep them there until I arrive.” Then he runs toward his Porsche.
He runs.
This is the same man who barely breaks out in a brisk walk when he’s under fire. And now he’s winning a two-hundred-yard dash.
I start after him, only to have a heavy weight barrel into my chest.
Luca knocks me back with a splayed arm, then aims his gun at me from the subtle position at his hip. “You heard him. You’re coming with me.”
“Like hell I am. I’m going after Keira.”
There’s a slam of a car door, the roar of an engine, then the heavy squeal of tires as Torian reverses from the parking space.
“Let me go.” I get in his face, the seconds ticking by like hours.
“It’s too late.” Hunt grabs my arm and yanks me backward. “He’s already gone. We need to take the Jeep.”
“You’re not going anywhere but the restaurant.” Luca plants his feet. “Where’s your car?”
“Didn’t you hear the phone conversation?” Hunt snaps. “Torian’s walking into a hostage negotiation on his own.”
“You’re not kidding me with this macho bullshit.” He jerks the gun again. “You’ve got no intention of helping him, and every intention to run.”
“Whoever has Keira has my woman, too. I ain’t running from shit. I never do. You’re the one who’s being a traitor by letting Torian drive out of here, on his own, unprotected, and without a fucking plan.”
Luca’s expression flickers, the tight pinch of his features growing more adamant. “I can’t let you go. He doesn’t want you out of my sight, so that’s where you’ll stay.”
“Then come with us,” I snap.
He scowls. “You expect me to help you?”
“I expect you to do what’s right for the fucking family.”
He squares his chin, the waver in his expression now resembling indecision as he faces Hunt and flicks his gun in my direction. “I don’t like him, let alone trust him.”
Hunt shrugs. “Nobody does. It doesn’t mean you pussy out of this.”
“Are you kidding me?” I seethe. “We’re stuck here because GI Joe has trust issues?”
He bares his teeth at me, but his weapon lowers an inch. Then another.
I don’t hang around for him to holster the weapon like a Girl Scout. I run, not pausing to take a breath as I sprint toward the Jeep.
27
Keira
Rope burns sear my wrists. The corners of my mouth ache from the material gag. But that pain is nothing in comparison to the heavy throb in my stomach from where I was punched.
I’d willingly followed that man through the hospital. I’d had no other choice. Either I walked with him or I screamed for help, which would either end with a bullet in my skull or a police investigation that would retrace my steps to a murdered uncle.
<
br /> He told me he had Sarah. That he’d seen us both in the parking lot and would be rewarded beyond measure when he took me back to Drake.
I didn’t need to ask for clarity.
I was smart enough to figure out Drake was my hitman.
As soon as we were alone in a desolate hospital hall, I spoke in a rush, offering my captor bribes in exchange for my freedom. I promised large sums of money. Anonymity. Immunity. When those didn’t work, I vowed retribution and scathing retaliation as he dragged me out a staff exit and led me through a soulless parking lot.
I pledged to give him a death full of so much pain and suffering that my threats must have started to sink in.
That’s when he threw the punch.
He yanked me to face him and landed a blow to my stomach strong enough to cause bile to rush into my mouth.
My life went downhill from there.
He hauled me to a waiting car, the man in the backseat cradling Sarah’s limp body, her face bruised, her cheek scratched. She’d put up a fight. She battled for her freedom.
All I’d done was crumple under one hit.
The realization threw me into fight mode. I kicked. I thrashed. I screamed my fucking lungs out. And then I woke here, in an empty warehouse, my arms bound to a chair as five unfamiliar faces stare down at me plus my gray-haired captor.
“Your brother will be here soon.” A smirking man saunters closer to lower my gag. He’s young. Around his mid-thirties. His blond hair spiked. His eyes light.
He’s almost handsome. Almost beautiful.
If only I didn’t recognize his voice.
“Drake.” I force the name through my swollen throat. “Why are you doing this? I was going to get you the money. I still can.”
The smirk increases. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. It’s all under control.” He crouches before me and places a large hand high on my thigh. “And I actually prefer the theatrics. I’ve dreamed about this moment for weeks.”
I clamp my teeth together as his palm slides back and forth. “If you don’t remove your hand, my brother will make sure you have nightmares about this moment for years.”
He chuckles, his fingers digging through my jeans and into skin. “You’ve got a sassy mouth. Be careful or I’ll fill it with something you might not like.”
A shudder ricochets through me, hitting every nerve. It’s not a threat. This man is making a promise. But it’s more than that, too.
He’s dripping with confidence. Entirely fearless.
He plans to get something more than mere money from this exchange.
“You’re not so tough after all, are you?” He pushes to his feet. “Don’t worry, this will be over before you know it.”
He returns to his posse a few feet away, and I frantically rush to scan my surroundings.
The warehouse is bigger than a small house, the large expanse entirely empty. Fluorescent bulbs dangle from the roof, six of them, to match the six windows along the left wall, the glass missing in places and stained with dirt, cobwebs, and grime in others. But no illumination shines from outside. There are no traffic lights or street lamps. Just darkness and the eerie feel of desolation.
We’re not close to the city.
We’re away from witnesses.
Far from help.
And it’s cold in here, too. Hollow. Or maybe that’s just me.
I glance over my left shoulder and find the same expanse of emptiness. All except for the pair of feminine feet right behind me. I suck in a breath and swing my head to look over the other shoulder.
Sarah lies limp on the cement floor, her body curled in a loose fetal position, her arms and legs snuggled in front of her. She doesn’t move. I can barely make out the rise and fall of her chest. But it’s there, the slightest increments letting me know she’s still alive.
I remain still, trying not to show my attachment to this woman, while my insides wage war.
She shouldn’t be here. This has nothing to do with her.
It’s all me. All my fault.
The beep of a cell echoes through the open space, the touch of external life giving me the slightest hope. I drag my attention back to Drake, who now holds a cell in his hand.
“Ben said he’s here. And alone.” He jerks his head toward the door twenty yards away. “Liam, go out and help bring him in.”
Him—my brother.
But he wouldn’t have come on his own, would he?
“Kyle, you stay with the girls. The rest of you, follow me.” Drake leads them across the warehouse.
“Wait.” The plea escapes my lips without thought. I don’t know what to do, what to say. The only thing I can think of is distracting them while I buy Cole time to think through the poor decision to arrive alone. “Let me go, and I’ll get you the money. I’ll double what I owe.”
“It’s time for you to be quiet. Bottle that fear deep down inside and let it out once Torian gets in here.” He winks at me. “Your tears will make this perfect.”
“No, please. You need to listen.”
He walks away.
“Drake, I’ll get you the money.”
He doesn’t stop. He’s not interested in me.
He only wants my brother.
My pulse kicks up a notch as Drake reaches his team at the door, a lone man slipping outside.
“Please,” I murmur to the guard standing a few feet away. “It’s Kyle, isn’t it?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and pretends he didn’t hear me.
“You need to untie my hands. Once Cole gets here, he’s going to place a price on the head of everyone here. You could be the savior. Wouldn’t you prefer to work for us instead?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“I’m serious.” I wiggle, trying to loosen my arms from the rope. “You’re going to get hurt. Or worse.”
I’ve never seen the inner workings of a hostage negotiation with my brother. I haven’t heard him speak about one before, but I anticipate this interaction won’t be civil. He’s going to be furious—at these men and me.
“I said shut up.”
“You’re making a mistake…”
Kyle starts toward me, his menacing steps a fair indication he isn’t interested in my caution. The hard slap across the face clinches my assumption.
My head swings with the blow, my cheek blazing.
I blink back tears, determined not to let this asshole see me cry, even though dams build in my eyes. The show of emotion isn’t from weakness. It’s from pain. From fury. Rage spreads through my veins like wildfire.
I snicker out a maniacal laugh. “You’ll regret that.”
His arm lashes out, aiming for my neck. I tense, every muscle rigid as I wait for another blow.
Instead, he chuckles and grabs the gag to yank it back in place. “Keep quiet or I’ll glue your lips shut.”
I yank at my bindings. I squirm. I throw a hissy fit, my actions hopefully disguising my attempt to jolt my chair closer and closer toward Sarah.
He doesn’t notice the inches I gain as he moves back to stand with his arms crossed over his chest, his sight fixated on the men at the door. He doesn’t even notice I spend the next few minutes staring down at my friend lying directly at my side.
She’s so pale. Entirely fragile.
Hunter is going to kill me… That’s if she gets out of here safely. If not, I’m sure he’ll think of a punishment much worse than death. And I’ll deserve that, too.
I’d begged her to bring me back to Portland and added a dash of emotional blackmail. Then I’d increased my argument with a feminist protest.
She hadn’t been able to ignore my pleas to let me slay my own demons. Despite her obvious reluctance, she concocted the plan to steal Hunter’s car and beat the men back to Richard.
Now she lies lifeless at my feet, the bruising on her face swelling as it darkens.
I wordlessly beg her to wake up. To blink. To show a sign that she’s still okay.
I wi
ggle a little more, nudging my chair leg against her knee as a deafening pop echoes through our metal cage. The gunshot makes the world stop. I don’t move, don’t breathe. But the shock isn’t enough for me to miss the jolt of Sarah’s hands.
She heard it.
She’s awake beneath those closed eyes.
As men shout orders, arm themselves, and fill the warehouse with panic, I continue to watch her, waiting for another sign that doesn’t come.
“Sarah,” I mumble into the gag. “Please, Sarah.”
She doesn’t blink or flinch. There’s no sign of life for long seconds. Then her pinkie finger taps against the concrete, twice, in quick succession.
That’s it. That’s all the acknowledgement she gives me, and it’s all I need.
I suck in a deep breath and sit up straight, trying not to let fear take over. I try so damn hard to picture my brother making the shot instead of taking it. Then the sound rings out again and again, the night being blasted with gunfire.
Kyle pulls out his gun and rushes to crouch behind my chair, while the men in the distance form a wall a few feet back from the door, acting as warriors to protect Drake, who remains behind them.
“I’m coming in,” Cole yells from outside.
Sweet exhilaration fills my belly, growing and expanding. It takes all my restraint not to scream out in relief when the door swings wide and he storms inside, an unfamiliar man held hostage at his chest.
“The dead guy in the parking lot is the price you pay for messing with my family,” he seethes. “How many more do you want to lose?”
He’s okay. He’s safe.
Not even a wrinkle or stain mars his tailored suit.
But he’s still alone. There’s no sign of Sebastian. No Hunter.
The men retreat as he approaches, their weapons at the ready, while the barrel of a gun slides across my temple from the coward at my back.
“Don’t move,” Kyle whispers in my ear. “You know I’ll shoot.”
I do as he says, not daring to move a muscle.
“She owes me money.” Drake walks backward, leading the way toward me.
“Then you come to me.” Cole’s voice roars through the empty space. “You never approach her. You never lay a hand on my fucking family.”
Decker Page 30
