Redemption: Triple R Security, Book 3

by Imogen Wells

  He raises a brow at me as I quietly open the boot. In a compartment under the main floor of the boot, there are two bullet proof vests, some flash bang grenades, a Gerber Strongarm and a couple of small handguns.

  “Where did you get this stuff.”

  “Let’s just say that an old friend gave them to me.” It’s not much but better than nothing, and I’ve worked with less before. I shove a vest at Jay. “Put this on, but I want you to stay back,” I tell him as I take off my jacket, putting the vest on before pulling my jacket back on over the top.

  I check the guns, giving one to Jay and place the Gerber in the top of my boot. When I’m ready, I turn to Jay and tell him to wait here for Ryder before ducking round the hedge into the driveway.

  Keeping low, I stalk towards the front of property. It’s quiet. Too quiet and there are no men outside, which concerns me on a number of levels. Parked out front are several cars, one of which I know to be Collins’. There are lights on downstairs, but I can’t get a clear view from here.

  There’s a shout from inside the house a second before it’s plunged into darkness.

  Forty-Two

  Jess

  No, no, no, this is not how it was meant to go. Garcia releases my mother, and she falls forward, clutching the side of her neck as blood trickles between her fingers. Alesandro drops Max to his feet, keeping a tight grip on the back of his t-shirt. Tears streak his cheeks and fear has his eyes wide as he takes in the room.

  I catch Max’s eye and mouth to him that it will be okay, but I’m not sure I believe it myself. Not for me at least.

  I’m praying that the phone call I made earlier has kept Rick away and out of danger, so now it’s on me to make sure his son makes it out of here alive.

  Garcia steps forward, crouching down to Max’s eye level and drawing his attention away from me.

  “You must be Max. You must wonder what this is all about. Come sit, and I will tell you what type of man your father is, Max.” Garcia, steers Max to the other sofa and sits down, pulling Max to sit on his knee. I cringe as I see Garcia’s eyes light, and his hand moves to stroke Max’s back.

  I swallow down what I really want to say and listen as Garcia starts telling Max the story of how his brother captured these bad men to protect his family like it’s some fucking fairy tale and his brother is the damn hero.

  When he starts talking about how Rick slaughtered all the men, I lose my shit.

  “That’s e-fucking-nough,” I shout, getting to my feet before the arsehole next to me can stop me. Garcia moves Max aside and rises from his seat slowly, but the hand that strikes my face is as quick as a whip. It’s so hard, I’m knocked to the floor and can taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth.

  I hear a gasp from my mother, and Max lets out a small cry with the word ‘no’ barely a whisper as he begins to cry.

  “I will decide when it’s enough!” Garcia shouts, and a second later the lights go out, plunging us into darkness.

  I don’t have time to think about what I’m doing short of knowing that now is probably our only chance to escape as chaos begins to erupt around us. I grab the pocketknife from my back pocket, flick it open, then stab it into Garcia’s foot. He bellows out a roar of pain, and I crawl quickly to where Max was last, but he’s not there. My heart sinks as I think the worst, but then a small hand comes from round the edge of the sofa, and I know it’s Max.

  “This way, Jessica,” Max whispers, I follow him behind the sofa, but before he can crawl away again, I grab his hand.

  Releasing his hand, I place my hands either side of his face. “I want you to run, okay. Don’t worry about me and don’t stop, do you understand?” I feel fear and worry wash over him like it’s a living thing. “I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

  “Okay,” he whispers, his voice shaking. I give him a quick kiss on the forehead then tell him to go. He scrambles away across the floor till he reaches the back door of the house. I don’t get to see if he makes it out because I’m lifted and dragged backwards over the sofa by my hair, which is getting real fucking annoying. I land with an oomph and twist awkwardly before I’m pulled to the floor.

  “You dare to stab me, little whore,” Garcia snarls as he bends to grab hold of me again. I swing my fist, clocking him in the jaw, then lift my foot right between his fucking legs. A string of Spanish curses leave his mouth in a pained whisper as he hunches over.

  Crawling away, a gunshot splinters the darkness, and someone hits the floor beside me. I realise it’s the guy who was carrying the navaja. Quickly taking it from his limp hand, I look up to see my mother standing there, taking aim behind me.

  I hear Garcia cursing as he stomps across the floor towards me. Hurrying to my feet, I turn and catch a glimpse of a hulking figure behind my mother.

  Alesandro.

  “Behind you,” I yell, seeing the glint of a knife being raised above her head. She doesn’t flinch, and as though she didn’t hear me at all, she fires the gun. I hear a grunt from behind as the bullet hits Garcia. I keep running, watching in slow motion as Alesandro brings the knife down, aiming for my mother’s neck. There’s a flash of movement from the left as someone barrels into Alesandro, knocking him to the floor.

  Reaching my mother, I see my father and Alesandro grappling on the floor. I snatch her hand and pull her with me. We make it to the kitchen before she stumbles and drops to her knees, almost pulling me with her.

  “Jessica, go.”

  “What are you doing? Come on,” I demand.

  “Go, save the boy.” I shake my head, tugging on her hand, but she doesn’t move. “Run, Jessica,” she shouts hoarsely. “Let me do this. Go.” She pulls her hand from mine, and as she climbs to her feet and spins round, I see the handle of the knife sticking out from the back of her neck.

  Looking up, I see Garcia stalking towards us. Out of options, I look to the navaja in my hand, then to my mother. I grab her hand, placing the knife in it and give her nod. She yells again for me to run, and I don’t second guess it, I bolt for the back door, leaving my mother to face Garcia.

  I yank open the door and flee into the garden. There’s a trimmed lawn area and then it’s just open fields. Quickly scanning around, I see a small path to the left and head straight for it.

  I follow the flattened grass path hoping that this is the way Max came. It’s like running through a wild meadow with grass and flowers almost to my waist.

  There’s a loud bang and glass shattering as I reach the other side of the first field. I pause, crouching low and panting, I spin on the spot looking for any sign of Max. I know someone is coming, so I don’t want to call out to him and give away my position.

  “Fuck!” I curse in the quiet darkness.

  “Jessica,” a whisper comes from behind me, and I spin to see Max stepping out from behind a tree.

  “Oh, thank God,” I say, stepping towards him and hugging him. I scan the area again, but there’s nowhere to hide, and we could run for miles before we find somewhere safe. I stupidly left the phone back at the house because I had nowhere to hide it. I look to the line of trees to the left that run up the side of the property and back to the main road. That’ll have to do.

  Thunder cracks overhead making us both jump. I wrap Max up in my arms, holding him so tight, and I even breathe him in, so I can remember him.

  “Max, I need you to be really brave again. I’m going to go—”

  “No, you can’t, they’ll—” I get down on one knee and hold both of his hands in mine. “Listen to me, I will be alright. They won’t catch me. I can run like Usain Bolt you know.” I smile, but it’s fake as shit. “You see that line of trees over there?” I ask pointing to the left of us, and Max nods his head. “I need you to run for those trees and follow them all the way up there.” I point to where the trees meet the road. “I need you to wait there for me.”

  He nods hesitantly. “I don’t want you to go, Jessica. They will hurt you again.”

  I swallow the lump i
n my throat and hold in the tears that are trying to escape. But it’s Max’s next words that almost break me.

  “Dad will be mad and cry every night again like he did before he met you.”

  The sound of rustling reaches me, and I know I have no time to digest what Max said.

  “Shit. Max, you need to go now. I need you do what I asked. Can you do that for me and for your dad?” He looks to the ground but nods all the same. Suddenly, his arms fly up around my neck, and he clings to me for a couple of seconds.

  The rustling is almost right on top of us where we are crouched down in the long grass.

  “You run, and you don’t stop for anything. Now go. I’ll see you soon.” For a split second he looks at me before darting off to the trees like I told him, and then the grass parts as I get to my feet, coming face to face with Garcia.

  He halts as he sees me, then looks past me to where Max ran before bringing his eyes back to me. He tuts, swinging the navaja he’s now holding in his hand.

  “You will die today, Jessica Fisher, just like your brother did. Will you beg like he did too? Let’s find out.”

  He steps forward, and I adjust my stance, ready to fight him. He might look menacing, but I’ve faced off against men bigger than him before, and I don’t intend on dying today.

  “I don’t beg, but give it your best shot, pinche cabron!” I snap, turning his earlier insult back on him.

  He snarls, curling his lip, and baring his teeth. Dropping my eyes from his, which he seems pleased about, as though I’m cowering or submitting to him. I’m not. I use the time to read him and see he’s bleeding from where the bullet struck him in the shoulder. A weakness that I have every intention of using to my advantage.

  When he makes his first move, I already know it’s coming and block it with my forearm. I follow up with a quick hit to his open torso, hitting him in the solar plexus. He stumbles back in surprise while attempting to draw back the breath my hit stole from him.

  Shaking it off quickly, he comes for me again. Having learnt I’m not your average woman, he’s a little more cautious this time.

  Looking to strike me with his left, I duck, but he pulls back and strikes out with his right, and as I change direction, the navaja slices across my left ribcage. I suck in a sharp breath as it slices across my skin.

  “Sweet, sweet blood,” he says, licking his lips in a cruel smirk. “I will hear your screams, Jessica. Then I shall carve that little boy up into tiny pieces and send him bit by bit back to his bastardo father. He thinks what my brother did was torture, but I’m going to show him true torture,” he snarls, stepping forward and swiping out again. I twist away from him, cursing as the slash to my side screams at the jarring movement, coming to a stop behind him, and I quickly double jab his right kidney. As he curls away from my hits, I swipe a leg, taking him to the ground, but I’m not fast enough, and he catches my foot, pulling me down with him.

  I hit the ground with a thud that knocks the breath from me. Before I can recover, he’s on me. A scream tears from me as pain radiates through my shoulder and thunder cracks in the sky. My shoulder burns as he draws the blade back out, my back arching from the damp ground.

  A siren blares on the road behind us as Garcia raises the knife again. I use the momentary distraction to clasp my hands together, raising them above my head and bringing them down on his chest, then quickly lifting upwards and hitting him in the chin. His teeth snap together, and his head is thrown back with the force. I shove my thumb into his bullet wound and buck my hips, and he topples to the side.

  Rolling away, blood pumps from the wound to my shoulder as I move, and I slip as I try to get to my feet.

  I hear rustling in the long grass and begin to crawl that way. I’m almost to the edge of the field when I feel a sharp pain to my right side, but I try to keep moving. It comes again, and my arms give out underneath me. I suck in a breath that gurgles and wheezes, bringing with it white-hot pain that has black dots dancing in my vision. I’m aware of someone close by as I collapse to the ground and roll over.

  A figure stands over me, blurring in and out of focus and laughing. He thinks he’s won, and when he reaches down, grasping my throat, lifting my back from the ground and cutting off the already limited breath from my lungs, I worry he has too. But if I’m leaving this world, this bastard is coming with me.

  I can’t feel much of anything right now as Garcia talks above me, muted and tinny.

  I feel my eyes begin to close, and images swim behind my eyelids, a young Christian and me, and Rick and Max, and my heart skips at the vision.

  I feel a presence beside me, and when I open my eyes, I see Christian. He’s here.

  “Hey, JJ.” He smiles, and a tear falls down my cheek. “Don’t cry, I’m okay. But you have to fight, JJ. You can’t give up. Not now.”

  “I miss you,” I whisper. He reaches out, stroking a finger down my face, and I feel it like a cool caress on my skin.

  “I miss you too, but it’s not your time, JJ. You have a man and a little boy that need you now.”

  At his words, Rick and Max reappear, and I watch as they race around the barn, swim in the lake, and I want that. I want to be there with them.

  “I’m so sorry, Christian.”

  “Don’t be sorry, JJ, just live. Live, laugh and love.”

  There’s a loud bang, and the pressure on my neck disappears. Christian begins to fade, and I call out to him not to leave me, but my words come out strangled and inaudible. As he fades back into the shadows, I hear him whispering.

  “Live, JJ. Live. Live. Live…”

  Forty-Three

  Rick

  As my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I approach the rear of one of the cars and use it as cover. I raise up to look inside and notice a man in the driver’s seat, and the front passenger door is open. I edge round to the driver’s side, listening intently but hear nothing. Taking another look inside, I see that the driver is clearly dead. The front of his t-shirt is drenched in blood. I crouch back down, then drop to all fours and look beneath the car.

  Lying on the ground is another man, also with his throat slit, but in the dim light of the moon, I can see that one arm is at an odd angle and clearly broken.

  These must be Collins’ men, which means Garcia is already here. And right on cue, a gunshot rings out from inside the house.

  I move around the car and run for the front door. Shouting comes from inside, and I use it to cover the sound of me entering the house.

  Once inside, I hear a yell, and I move closer to the closed door. I immediately want to bust the fucking door down fearing it’s Jess, but I centre myself, breathing deep and remaining calm and focused.

  I’ve done this a hundred times. I know what I’m doing, but I need to keep my emotions and personal connection locked down or we’ll all be fucking dead.

  I have no fucking clue of the layout of the house or who or how many people are in here. It’s safe to assume that Archie is here, Garcia, who won’t be alone, but otherwise, I’m going in completely blind.

  I grip the door handle and lower it slowly. Opening it enough for me to slip inside, I keep my back to the wall as I take in the scene.

  Shadowy figures grapple on the floor next to a prone body, and the room is filled with grunts and groans as they fight one another. Moving further into the room, a flash of movement off to the left catches my eye, and I see someone moving through the other end of the room before disappearing from sight.

  Inching in on the fighting duo, I realise it’s Collins and another guy. One of Garcia’s, I’m guessing. A loud bang from the back of the house splinters through the room and glass shatters as I lean down to check the body on the floor but he’s dead.

  A stray fist narrowly misses me as I rise, spinning to the right before bringing the butt of my gun down on the man’s head. A crack echoes around the room at the same time as the door to the room crashes open revealing Seb and Ryder.

  I step passed Collins, not giv
ing one fuck how badly injured the man is and move through to the kitchen.

  I find Mrs Collins laying on her side on the floor, a knife protruding from the back of her neck. Crouching down, I quickly check for a pulse. It’s there but weak.

  I hear a siren in the distance and car doors slamming outside just as Ryder steps up beside me.

  “What are you waiting for? Go.” I look to the door, then back to Ryder. “We’ve got this. Fucking go get Max and your woman. I’ll be right behind you.”

  He doesn’t need to tell me twice as I race out the door. The cool evening air smashes against my face as I sprint for the split in the tall grass.

  I follow the thin trail of flattened grass, sure on my feet and keeping low. Reaching the middle of the field, the trail splits off to the left, and something pulls at me. I follow my instincts, turning that way.

  Thunderclaps in the sky, and a scream is carried on the breeze to me. My feet pound the damp grass as my pace picks up.

  As I near the edge of the field, I hear a man’s voice and just beneath that is the faint whispering of a female voice. Jess. Breaking through the grass, I see Garcia, feet either side of Jess’ limp body, and his hands wrapped around her throat, holding her half off the ground. My heart beats wildly inside my chest and each one is like a knife to it as the metallic scent of blood reaches my nostrils.

  I raise my gun preparing to fire, blocking out all other sounds and focusing only on the man in front of me. A man that needs to fucking die for what he’s done.

  I take a deep breath and breathe out slowly as my finger squeezes the trigger. Pop! I hit my mark, and he releases Jess before falling to the ground.

  Lowering my weapon and putting the safety back on, I drop down next to Jess.

  “JJ.” I reach out and touch a hand to her face.

  “Christian,” she whispers, her breath rattling in her chest. The mention of her brother’s name and the fact that she’s fucking bleeding out has my heart racing and nausea sweeping through me.