by Sheila Kell
“What do you want?”
Oh, so he wanted to pay him off. Funny since most of their money came from his wife’s inheritance from her parents. “I want my disgraced status removed from my Secret Service record. And, I wanted to warn you. Give you a chance to do the right thing. I can’t stand by, knowing someone may be murdered.”
Suddenly, a side door he’d missed when he’d checked out the room briefly opened, and Thomas Hancock walked into the room pointing a handgun at Brad’s chest. His pulse rate skyrocketed at his new situation. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“How inconvenient for you to have your memory returned,” Hancock said. “We worked hard to ensure it faded along with your career so no one would believe your tale of possible murder.”
A surge of fear and anger shot through him at his being unarmed. Brad sat very still while his heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest. Thank God, he’d worn a vest. “You don’t need to point that weapon at me, Hancock,” he said plainly, so his backup would hear he was in trouble and alert them to another player in the room. How long would it take them, two or three minutes? His pulse thrummed at how long he’d be dealing with the situation alone. Once they arrived, his backup could spend another two or three minutes trying to locate him in the home.
“Of course I do,” Hancock said, stepping beside where the senator sat. “I knew once you began asking questions at the dinner that you’d be trouble. I sent someone to run you off the road—over the bridge to be exact—but they failed. We should’ve killed you in Columbia and dealt with the political fallout.”
Brad gulped. He’d wanted to hear the truth, and knowing it was his fault Madison had been hurt stirred his gut. “So you still plan to kill the senator’s wife?” If the man answered, he had no plan to allow Brad to walk out of this situation. Where the hell was his backup?
“It is a grand plan. Once she has all the public votes, and with Brett by her side, she dies tragically and Brett steps into her role to continue on the principles she stood on,” Thomas sneered.
“You’d just let him kill your wife?” he asked the senator.
“She’s a shoe-in for president. It should’ve been me who was president, not first gentleman. That isn’t the role I was born into. President or bust. Any way I can get it.”
“It seems like a big risk. What if the public opinion doesn't sway to you? You couldn’t sway them four years ago.”
These people were certifiable. The public might be sympathetic to the senator at the loss of his wife, but they wouldn’t automatically vote for him. Hell, there were dozens of people in the primaries who could bounce back up after she died. She couldn’t die. He had to help stop it. Nerves began to assail him at the delay. Where the hell was his backup? He took a deep breath to keep himself from allowing fear to pervade his nerves. With another deep breath, he calmed that racing feeling along his spine so he could continue to deal with these two men and keep himself alive until someone arrived.
“He only lost by a small margin,” Hancock said. “This time, we’ll win it. No woman should be president. No matter how much the public loves her.”
Brad felt the need to dropkick the sexist pig. He thought he had enough from them for a conviction, but since he had to wait for the cavalry, he decided to probe more. “Since you failed once already, how had you planned to kill her this time?”
Hancock smiled. “Yeah, she was supposed to have died in that accident, but you had to come along. But this time, you won’t be a problem,” he sneered.
Brad gulped back the threat and secretly rejoiced that he’d got the admission on the attempt on the female senator’s life. He still needed to push for time for his backup, so he sought more confessions. “So, how were you planning to do it this time?”
Hancock’s smile turned sickly. “Intruder who got away, of course. Brett would be safely away—out of town—so no suspicion would befall him.”
Brad heard the noise, slight though it was, someone was coming. His nerves eased a bit. Thank God.
“How had you planned to get rid of me?”
“Self-defense. You tried to attack the senator.”
Fucker. He wanted to launch himself at the man and beat the shit out of Hancock for even thinking of killing him. Brad had too much to live for. Madison.
“Police! Put the weapon down!”
Hallelujah. He wasn’t completely safe as the handgun was still pointed at his chest. Brad wanted to close the distance between them and disarm the man responsible for the troubles in his life and career. He’d waited a long time to clear his name, and finally it was done. He felt a huge weight lifting from his body and soul even though he was still in danger while Hancock kept his weapon pointed at him. If only he was closer, Brad would attack the man. He’d love to take him down after the man had pulled a weapon on him.
“Put your weapon down,” someone repeated to Hancock.
Hancock didn’t obey. He held his weapon steady on Brad, and there was a frisson of fear that the man would actually shoot him with everyone present. Then he watched it as if in slow motion. Hancock brought the pistol to his temple. Brad called out and reached forward as if he could reach the gun before Hancock pulled the trigger. The man crumpled before Brad’s eyes, with brain matter splattered near him.
Brad started. He wanted to lash out at Hancock escaping justice, but he couldn’t be sorry the man wasn’t around to ruin any anymore lives.
The senator was pulled to a standing position and cuffed by Dan and another police officer. The man didn’t speak, just looked at Hancock’s body and, with his head down, was walked from the office by the police officer.
“Good job,” Dan told him.
“Good? Where the fuck were you? The man was pointing a weapon at me!” he shouted.
“We got here in time, now didn’t we?”
They had. He hated to admit it. “Yeah. Thanks.”
After giving back the wire, he promised to come by the FBI office later to make a full statement. He needed to see Madison first. Although he never cowered from having a weapon pointed at him, the reality of it got beneath his skin and made him want what was important. And, that was Madison Maxwell.
Still reeling from the accusations and all the dirty dealings of the senator and his deceased campaign manager, Brad drove home tense and eager to see Madison. It all seemed so anticlimactic. Then again, he didn’t know what he really expected once confessions were dispensed. At least Senator Walden—the female one—would be safe.
Brad was desperate to hold Madison and know that all felt right in the world. She was his world and her love could wash away all he’d witnessed. Did he have her love? He’d never wanted it before—from any woman—but now he craved it with every fiber of his being.
He knew he loved her and wanted to tell her, yet he worried what she’d say. Pussy, he called himself. The worst she could do was laugh in his face… or leave. “Christ!” he exclaimed in the rented SUV. “Why is this so fucking hard?” He knew better than to ask his brothers’ advice on this topic, especially Devon and his sometimes good, and sometimes bad, advice. How the hell did he remain married to Rylee?
Well, he’d cleared the one threat to her… to them. The car accident hadn’t been Rogers and Casden, but Walden and Hancock. That meant the first two weren’t escalating. But how did he get them to back off before they did? Maybe they’d do nothing else, but he didn’t want to let his guard down. Letting her go with just Ken and Sam had been tough, but he trusted his team leader.
Knowing they’d gone to the club, he thought to drive by there on the way home in case she was still there. He couldn’t wait to see her. Couldn’t wait to hear what she thought about it all. About him being set up. Of course, she’d attested her belief that he’d been set up from the beginning and not done something stupid. Having it validated felt right and had him standing taller and stronger.
Now he needed his woman by his side.
WITH BRAD TIED up with the Waldens and all that encompassed, Madison
headed to the club to see the progress. Although Ken pushed for them to wait for Brad, he reluctantly agreed that he and Sam would stay with Madison. The drive to the club was silent, and Madison felt a tension between Ken and Sam that she couldn’t identify.
Arriving at the club, Ken led the way and told her to wait outside with Sam while he checked the place. There was only one car, which she guessed was the contractor’s. A quick lance of concern stabbed her. The workers should be here. Surely they hadn’t taken a day off for the weather. As she thought that, the sun dipped behind a dark cloud. Rain was on the way.
When Ken didn’t come back right away, Sam tried to get her to retreat to the SUV. Before she could move either forward or back, Jeremy Rogers opened the door of the club and pointed a handgun at Sam then removed another handgun from his waist and pointed it at Madison.
Her heart nearly stopped before blood rushed through her system in a wave of panic and fear.
“With two fingers, remove your weapon and place it out of arm’s reach,” he said to Sam. With murder in her eyes, she complied, and Jeremy waved one of the handguns, motioning them to enter the club. “Nice and quiet now,” he said.
A lead weight settled in Madison’s stomach, sending her senses reeling at the fact the car in the parking lot hadn’t been the contractor’s. Unless—she gulped—they did something to him. And what about Ken?
Knowing she had no choice if she wanted to live—because with all she’d heard, she doubted Jeremy held her at gunpoint for the fun of it—she looked at Sam and stepped into the club. Once they’d both entered, she saw Ken—weaponless and with a handgun pointed at his temple—standing near Richard Casden. Ken’s handgun was on the floor.
Madison’s heart sank and fumed at the same moment. The fuckers. Brad was going to go ballistic. Her pulse thrummed in her ears at the thought of Brad on a rampage with these monsters—men she’d once thought harmless. Three people, three guns. No, it looked like Casden had another weapon. Had they planned on Brad being with her? Her skin crawled at the thought of them planning to hurt him—any of them.
“It’s about time you arrived, Miss Maxwell,” Richard said.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she snapped, remembering how Brad thought she’d be too nice to the men. She almost snorted at how contradictory she’d been.
“Did you disarm her?” Richard asked Jeremy, nodding in Sam’s direction.
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam looked at Ken, and something silent passed between them. Whatever it was, it didn’t change the dynamic of their situation.
A card table with two folding chairs had been set up in the middle of the club. Presumably where the contractor spread out his plans and conducted any business. At the moment, there was a small stack of papers there.
Madison trembled with fear but worked to overcome it to think straight. What in the hell was going on? Did they plan to kill the three of them and leave them in the club? She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to die. They still wouldn’t get the club because Rylee wouldn’t sell it to them, and Brad would hunt them down and kill them.
“Miss Maxwell,” Richard said, and motioned with his head to the card table, “if you please.”
She saw Ken make a move, and Richard turned back to him and realigned his weapon with Ken’s temple.
Once she sat at the table, the two men quickly adjusted their weapons. They had Ken move closer to Sam, and Jeremy covered each of them while Richard now held a handgun on her. Good times, she thought with an inappropriate internal laugh.
“Sign the papers and you’ll be free to go. You and your friends,” Richard stated, but she didn’t believe him. How could she believe someone who held you at gunpoint and had a reputation of murder?
With a will to live and trust in HIS, she hoped to stall until Ken and Sam could get something moving, she slowly perused the papers. They had to get them out of this because she’d never told Brad she loved him. She wanted a life with him, and these men would not deny her of that.
Just as she thought, a bill of sale for the property was on top of the stack of papers. With full power of attorney, Rylee’s signature wouldn’t be necessary. What’s worse was they had a copy of the power of attorney also on the table. Anger laced her spine at the fact they’d somehow gotten a copy. She couldn’t worry herself with how right now because she had more important things to focus on.
“So, you want me to sign these without my partner knowing?” Stall, she thought. Ken and Sam looked intent. They had to be coming up with something.
“You can tell her later,” Richard said.
“There’s no notary here, and these need to be notarized.” A slight sense of relief hit her that the documents wouldn’t be official.
Richard smiled, showing his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t you worry about that. They’ll get notarized fine.”
Watching Ken for direction, she was astonished to see surprise and then satisfaction on his usually stoic face. He gave her a slight smile and a barely noticeable nod.
Okay, so she was to sign. What if he and Sam couldn’t help in time? She didn’t want to sign the club away. Then again, she wanted them to live, so signing she would do. She’d just take her time.
“I guess I need a pen.”
Richard reached into his suit jacket and extracted one to hand to her. She’d remember that gold pen for the rest of her life. She’d never be able to hold one like it again and not remember her fear… her will to live… and her despair at possibly dying without growing old with Brad.
Madison twisted the pen to showcase the writing tip. The paperwork had already been tabbed and highlighted for her to sign or initial in the appropriate places. Her name and the club information had already been filled in by someone else. How thoughtful, she mused sarcastically.
Making to drag it out longer, she checked every line, and when Richard saw what she was doing, he dug the gun into her temple. “Hurry.”
Her blood ran cold. Would he really shoot her? She prayed not with everything inside her. She began on the first page, and the next thing she knew, Ken was tackling her, and all hell broke loose.
Something warm seeped across her belly. Oh God, had she been shot? She needed to tell Brad she loved him before she died. She needed to do so much, but somehow, she’d screwed up what would’ve been a good life for herself with a wonderful man.
When the stars floated before her eyes, the buzzing in her ears began and then a blackness rimmed her eyes, she didn’t fight her escape.
BRAD pulled into the parking lot of the club and saw Ken’s SUV and another vehicle. Probably the contractor’s. His blood ran cold when he didn’t see Ken or Sam outside. One of them should be outside checking the perimeter while one stayed with her. He parked and pulled his earpiece from the console between the seats. He’d removed it when confronting the senator and hadn’t thought to replace it, until now.
In his microphone, he called Ken’s name twice, and when he didn’t respond, fear crept up his spine. He thought to jump from the SUV and rush in, but common sense slapped him across the face. He got on the phone, and instead of calling the police, he called Devon and explained the situation and gave the license plate so his brother could tell him who was here, even though he already had an idea. After that, an alert went out to the team, and he knew anyone in the vicinity would be there within minutes to have his back. Thank God their departure to Belgium had been delayed by a day. Otherwise, he’d be screwed with manpower since Jesse lived so far away. He’d never make it in time. Actually, it was just that Brad wouldn’t wait that long.
As it was, it felt like the longest wait of his life, but he quietly updated Ken on what was occurring outside the club so he could be prepared. Ken’s job was to protect Madison since Brad didn’t know her location, and the men would be going in blind since Ken couldn’t give them any information, but his being unable to speak spoke volumes about the situation. There would be weapons involved, and more than likely, the three of th
em were being held at gunpoint. Anything less than that and Ken would’ve kicked ass. Brad still wanted to scream at the uncertainty of it. What if Ken couldn’t get to her and protect her?
He wiped a hand down his tired face. He couldn’t think like that. He trusted Ken with his life, and that meant he trusted him with Madison’s too. Still, so many dangerous scenarios ran through his mind with Madison getting hurt in any crossfire that might occur. Their plan was to take the two men without firing their weapons—the police hated it when they did—and rescue his woman.
With six team members in place, including three of his brothers—AJ, Matt, and Jake—Rylee and Rodney, Brad briefed them on the layout and what they could possibly expect. Ready, they breached the club through the front and back door in single file. Angry at AJ and Matt for making him go last, he finally conceded that his head wasn’t on straight and he couldn’t be objective. If they’d hurt Madison, he’d kill Casden and Rogers. He was thanking his fucking stars they allowed him to participate. Allowed? No, this was his mission. No one would kick him off it.
Coming in behind his brothers, in his peripheral, he watched Ken launch himself across the room and tackle someone sitting in a chair. He flew over the card table, and the two hit the ground with a thunk from the frame of the chair as a weapon fired. He prayed it was to cover Madison because Brad had to pull Sam back from trying to kick Jeremy Rogers’s ass.
Although he’d hoped for a quiet entry, several gunshots were fired, none by him, and both Casden and Rogers were down. Not caring the status of the men, he rushed to where Ken lay atop Madison. The poor woman spent more time beneath someone from HIS than just about anything else.
Blood, he smelled it… tasted the metallic tang in his mouth… saw it on her shirt when Ken moved off her and rolled to his back. Brad ripped her blouse from inside her jeans and frantically surveyed her belly. “Madison? Where are you hurt?” he asked her unconscious body. Blind panic and fury reached out to every nerve circuit in his body. He’d been too late to save her from being hurt… or maybe even dying if the wound was bad enough.
