Bullet Proof: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family)

by Avery Flynn

  He sent Keir a scathing look before his brother could open his mouth. "No story."

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bathroom doorknob turn. Shutting down this conversation before Bianca emerged became priority number one. The door swung open.

  "I mean it," he said, blood rushing in his ears. "No story."

  "Whatever you say, brother." Keir shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  "Are you two always like this?" Bianca asked as she strutted out of the bathroom in head-to-toe black, from her ebony heels to her inky leather pants to the coal-colored V-neck shirt that clung to her curves. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that only highlighted her cheekbones and the lush fullness of her bold hot pink lips.

  "Most people find me totally adorable. I don't know what his problem is," Keir said.

  Vivi rolled her eyes. "The only thing adorable about you is the panda tattoo on your ass."

  That shut his brother up and even put a red stain on his cheeks. Now, that was interesting.

  "You brought the devices you need us to plant?" Bianca asked as she settled down on the barstool farthest away from where he stood.

  She didn't glance his way, but still he felt her attention on him like an invisible rope binding them together.

  "That and the plans for the house." Vivi nodded, her whole demeanor changing as Bianca's relaxed, smart-mouth friend was gone and iron spine Agent Yang had taken over. "You confirmed the meeting for this morning?"

  Taz nodded. "We need to leave in thirty minutes.”

  "Perfect." She set down a handful of what looked like clear marbles filled with a bundle of thin wires. "These are the listening devices. I need one of these in each room you can get into. The clear design helps them melt into whatever the room's design. They're motion activated and will pick up even quiet conversations in a midsized room. Anything bigger, you make sure to leave two of these suckers." She took out a small diamond broach. "This is for you. It's got a camera embedded in it." She handed a pair of glasses to Taz. "Same goes for these. You don't have to worry about turning the cameras on. We'll do it remotely."

  "We?" Taz asked.

  Vivi jerked her chin toward Keir. "Mr. Panda Tattoo and I."

  "No DEA team?" Bianca asked.

  Now it was Vivi's turn to have a little color creep up to her cheeks. "Because we'll be watching and listening along with you while you're inside, we'll be able to have someone on site in ten minutes if things go wrong, but this isn't exactly a sanctioned op."

  Every nerve in his body went on full alert, sending out warning signals loud enough to be heard across town. "Why not?"

  "Because Miss Sweet Personality is persona non grata," Keir answered, shifting just the slightest bit so he stood a half-inch closer to her. "She's on her way out."

  Bianca gnawed away at her bottom lip. "Will you get in trouble for this?"

  "Not if we come back with proof the Davies-Smythes are involved with Genie's Wish. Amazing how big arrests make the big wigs shut up—not to mention it's a helluva fuck you to everyone who has been a giant pain in my ass." Vivi unrolled the building plans for Bisu Manor onto the island and pointed to a corner room in the basement. "This is their panic room. Now, if I was kidnapping someone and using them as a drug guinea pig, this is exactly where I'd hold them."

  "What about this?" Bianca pointed to what had been labeled wine pantry and was just off the kitchen. "There aren't any windows and wine cellars sometimes have their own entry requirements because of the wines' value and temperature controls."

  "Good insight." Vivi nodded. "Check out both. If they have Gidget, and I'm still not convinced they do, then she'll be at one of these spots."

  It was a good catch, but he didn't want Bianca anywhere near one of the possible holding sites. Taking her to Bisu Manor wasn't optional, but once he had her there, she wasn't going to be doing a damn thing that could get her into trouble. She might want to be Ft. Worth's version of Batgirl, but that didn't mean he was going to let it happen.

  "And what if everything goes sideway?" he asked, because it would. Something always did.

  Bianca sent a glare his way. "We won't let it."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Taz had barely pulled to a stop in front of Bisu Manor before Bianca had her fingers curled around the door handle, needing to put some space between them. He curled his strong fingers around her arm, stopping her before she could push the passenger door open and get out of the enclosed space where all she could smell was his warm, spicy scent and all she could think about was what could have been. She didn't have time for that right now. More importantly, Gidget didn't have time, nor did the good people of Ft. Worth who were about to get slammed with a drug that took far more than it gave. A lot more was riding on this than her broken heart.

  "Let me go," she said, thankful the anxiety tightening around her throat didn't block her words.

  "Are you sure you can do this?" Taz asked, not looking at her but not letting go either. "It's not too late to back out."

  She went so still she would have sworn her heart stopped beating. That's what he thought of her—that she'd back out, that she wasn't capable. Good thing she knew better.

  "Worry about yourself." She jerked her arm out of his grasp and pushed open the car door. "It's what you're good at."

  Getting out of the car on shaky legs, she was halfway up the stairs leading to the manor's front door when Taz caught up with her. He grabbed her arm and wheeled her around. Fighting for balance, she grabbed the first thing she could, which just happened to be Taz's hard chest. His heart thundered under her palm, matching the dark look shadowing his eyes.

  "I wish I could just worry about myself," he said, enunciating carefully, as if each clipped word was a blade slicing off a thin piece of her heart. "I'm good at it and it's all I was doing until I walked into this house last night and found you poured into that dress, surrounded by men who wanted nothing more than to fuck you every way to Sunday. I couldn't walk away from you then and I can't now."

  Flustered by the way he managed to piss her off and set off a wave of desire at the same time, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go. "I can take care of myself."

  "Damn it, Bianca, I know that," he snarled, yanking her so close that their lips were only inches apart. "What I said last night, it was...it was bullshit. You're smart. You're capable. You can handle yourself. I just don't think I could handle it if you got hurt. I love you."

  The world tilted and, judging by how her stomach felt, gravity had been temporarily turned off. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only stretch up on her tiptoes and brush her lips against his. Electricity zinged through her, like a silver ball careening through a pinball machine setting off bells and whistles and lights.

  He moaned and threaded his fingers in her hair, tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss. It was almost more than she could take, but she wasn't about to stop. He was right. What they were doing was dangerous. It could all go wrong, which is exactly why she needed something to go right—and this kiss was so wrong it was right. In their twisted little world, it worked and they made sense. Together they were bulletproof.

  A loud cough from over her left shoulder jerked her back from the edge of falling for Taz. Ha. Who was she kidding? She already had and there was no going back now.

  "Oh, my, I hope I'm not interrupting." Amelia Davies-Smythe stood in the open door. She wore a purple blouse, didn't have a hair out of place, and her understated makeup was perfect. For all intents and purposes, she looked like Ft. Worth royalty, via the British Isles, but the lusty look in her eyes as she gave Taz a slow up and down betrayed the image.

  A barbwire thread of jealousy wound its way through Bianca and she managed, just barely, not to show her teeth to the other woman. Taz released her hair and his palm slid south, coming to rest on the small of her back.

  "Bless your heart for worrying about that," Bianca said as she started up the steps. "But I thought you lik
ed to watch."

  Amelia laughed, the sound darker and earthier than was expected from an uptight British dilettante, but then again she wasn't only that. She was a kidnapping, drug dealing bitch. "You know, it's a sign of how interesting Oliver and I find you and your Kitten that we'd even see you today."

  "You have exciting plans for later?" Taz asked, his voice not giving away either embarrassment at being caught kissing her or the real reason why they were at the manor.

  "I wish, but no. The morning after a party is always a bit challenging." Amelia circled two fingers against her temple. "You two, however, don't look any worse for the wear. I hate you a little bit for that."

  "We're just excellent at faking it." Bianca chuckled softly and strolled up the stairs, praying that her nerve wouldn't fail her or cause her to fall flat on her face.

  "Now, that is a skill that can come in handy, believe me. Please come in. Oliver is taking care of a few things and will join us momentarily." She tucked Bianca's arm into the crook of her elbow and walked her through the foyer. "Let's have some tea in the salon while we wait for him."

  On guard for the first sign of goons or the sickly sweet scent of roses, she let Amelia lead her past the room that had been the site of last night's orgy and behind the double staircase. Sunlight streamed through the large windows into the small room hidden away from direct exposure from the rest of the house. The wood-paneled walls, partnered with the overstuffed furniture, gave the already tiny room an oppressive feel that made her skin crawl. A tea tray sat on a small coffee table near a grouping of four green and white striped chairs.

  When she moved to sit in the chair closest to the window, Amelia tightened her grip on Bianca's arm. The woman had more strength in her slender fingers than expected. The other woman's squared-off nails bit into her skin, setting off all sorts of warning bells and whistles.

  "Why don't you sit by me? We can't let Oliver have you to himself right away." The smile curling Amelia's blood red lips didn't reach her silver eyes.

  "I've been looking forward to chatting with you, so that works out perfectly." She sat down next to Amelia, her back to the entrance, and watched the other woman pour tea into delicate china cups decorated with pale yellow flowers.

  Maybe it was just latent jealousy? Even open couples like the Davies-Smythes had to have insecurities, right?

  It was logical, but she couldn't put all of her faith into that explanation. Something was off. Plastering the socially-acceptable smile she'd learned her first year at St. B's to avoid spending a night in the closet, she listened to Amelia prattle on and on about the superiority of English tea to American tea.

  Sneaking a peek out of the corner of her eye at Taz, she realized she wasn't being paranoid—or if she was, she wasn't the only one drowning in creepy vibes. His jaw was tight enough to be wired shut and he was drumming the Fifth Symphony on his kneecaps. The way his chair was angled had his back to the door and the sun shining through the window hitting him right in the eyes, but she doubted that was the reason for his strained expression. Something was wrong.

  "And that's why one should never microwave tea, but allow it to steep until it is ready." Amelia looked up, a flash of cruelty sailing across her face before her mask settled back in place, and then set down her cup without even a clink of china on china. "There you are, darling. Perfect timing."

  Bianca was in the process of turning to look at Oliver when the cool press of metal against her temple stopped her.

  Everything went still for half a second before panic-laced adrenaline slammed into her. Her fight or flight instincts had her gunning to move, to fight, to do something, but she forced herself to take a breath and assess. Her pulse slowed, her thinking cleared. It was what Taz had taught her to do at the gym, to find and exploit her opponent’s weakness, because everyone had one.

  Before she could exhale, Taz leapt from his chair.

  The click of the gun's safety sliding back stopped him from taking a step toward her.

  "Don't even think of it, either of you," Oliver said as he wrapped her ponytail around his free hand and yanked her head back hard. "You took Ms. Sutherland here away from us last night before we got a chance to talk with her one-on-one, so it was very considerate of you to bring her back this morning."

  "What are you talking about?" Taz bit out the question, his hands curled into deadly fists at his side and barely restrained rage giving him a mad man's edge that must have scared the shit out of his opponents in the ring.

  Oliver pivoted just enough to point his nine millimeter at Taz. "Don't take another step. I promise I'm an excellent shot."

  He didn't move forward, but he didn't retreat either.

  Instead he slid his gaze over to hers and in a heartbeat it was like being in the ring with him as she practiced jabs and hooks. They'd worked together for months, and she'd memorized his body language long before she'd ever gotten to touch him like she had last night. Understanding flashed between them. He was biding his time, waiting for the Davies-Smythes to show their soft pink underbelly. Then they'd strike. Together.

  "Please, let's not pretend anymore," Amelia said, all of the cultured formality in her voice giving way to a flat Midwestern twang. "We'll lose the fake British accent and you stop lying about why you're here. She's gone, you know."

  "Gidget was here." She sat up and snapped forward in her chair, only to be cruelly jerked back by Oliver's death grip on her hair.

  "Quite the troublemaker, that one," Oliver said, his own British giving way to a Boston accent. "She proved to be more difficult of a test subject than we expected."

  "Where is she?" They had to find her, and the easiest way to get information from the happy-little-psycho couple was to keep them talking.

  Amelia shrugged. "They didn't tell us when they took her and since the less we know, the more likely we are to stay alive, neither Oliver or I asked."

  "Are those really your names?" Taz asked as he shifted his feet and let his hand drop casually to the table lamp on the end table next to his chair.

  "Does it matter?" Amelia laughed. "We'll be Harold and Elizabeth or Timothy and Sandra or some other couple before anyone finds your body or realizes that Kitten here is missing."

  "You're not taking her." Concrete was weaker than the conviction in Taz's tone.

  "Not us. Someone else wants her. Has wanted her and the others from St. Bernadette's all along," Amelia said. "That Gidget girl was just the first. But our debt will be paid off by handing you over."

  Oliver's grip on her hair loosened. She gave Taz the smallest of nods. He dropped his gaze sharply to the floor in an unspoken message before bringing it back to her face. Another tiny, quick nod.

  He winked and his fingers curled around the lamp. She slunk down to the floor and ducked. The air whistled overhead as the lamp Taz sent flying cut through the air above her.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  * * * *

  Taz was going to tear Oliver into pieces for ever having the audacity to put a gun on Bianca. As soon as she dropped to the floor, he grabbed the lamp and flung it at Oliver.

  The lamp whizzed by the other man's head, missing by millimeters. It would be the only bit of luck the bastard would have today. Taking advantage of the surprise attack, Taz launched himself at the other man, hurtling over Bianca's crouched form and plowing into Oliver with the force of a Mack truck slamming into a ladybug.

  They hit the floor and rolled. Taz grabbed Oliver's wrists, slamming the hand holding the gun against the floor again and again until he lost his grip on the gun. It spun away.

  "Bianca," he yelled as he fought to keep Oliver pinned to the floor.

  "Already on it," she called out.

  But she wasn't alone. A flash of purple cut across his periphery. Amelia.

  "Watch out!" he shouted.

  Too late. Amelia scrambled for the gun at the same time as Bianca.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Oliver landed a hard uppercut to Taz's chin t
hat sent his head back. Seizing the momentum, Oliver rolled so he was on top. He shouldn't have been able to do it. Taz had fifty pounds on him. However, if the other man was sampling his supply of Genie's Wish then his drive to fight would be unmatched. Skill. Strength. Pain threshold. None of it would matter to a man high on rage and Genie's Wish.

  Even as he traded punch after punch with the other man, he could hear the grunts and cries from Bianca and Amelia as they fought for the gun. It wasn't a boxing match—it was a do-whatever-it-takes-to-win brawl for all of them.

  He and Oliver wrestled for control, landing sucker punches, biting tender flesh, kicking out to make contact with sensitive spots as the floor and ceiling traded places over and over again. Finding himself on the bottom, Taz looked up into the dilated eyes of the other man. That confirmation of Oliver being on Genie's Wish was disturbing enough, but it wasn't what jabbed a poker of fear into Taz's heart. It was that despite the other man's beet-red face, fast forming bruises, and heaving chest, Oliver was smiling as if this was the most fun he'd had in his entire miserable life.

  Keir hadn't been kidding about the criminal possibilities for the drug. With an army of Genie's Wish powered thugs, a crime boss would be near invincible.

  Taz accepted the other man's blows, knowing he couldn't defeat him with just his fists. He reached out for something—anything—that could knock the other man out. Oliver landed a headbutt that hit Taz square in the nose. The crunch followed by the rush of blood down his face confirmed what the jolt of agony indicated—the fucker broke his nose.

  Reaching back to his days on the street, he shucked off the veneer of rule-abiding boxer and tapped into the fury, desperation, and iron-willed focus needed to end this once and for all. His fingers closed around the broken remains of the table lamp he'd thrown earlier. It had a solid mahogany base. He curled his fingers around the neck as if it were a baseball bat and smashed it into Oliver's temple. He went down and didn't get back up.