Declan released Jackson and let him fall to the carpet.
He caught her gaze, prepared for anything.
“You came for me.” Her words shuddered with each breath.
“I always will.”
Bethany ran into his arms a second later, the both of them wincing when their bodies connected and she squeezed him tight.
“You grab his feet. I’ll grab his arms.” She did as he commanded, grabbing the unconscious man’s ankles. Together they carried the prone body into the foyer.
Declan blithely noticed that several other unconscious bodies had been moved into the now lit space. Davies had been busy. Greta rested a cool pack against her forehead.
Bethany dropped Jackson’s feet as if they’d burned her and Declan stumbled under the extra weight. He quickly righted himself and disposed of Jackson beside one of his men.
He looked over to see Bethany hovering over Greta. Davies stood beside her.
“Greta, are you all right? What happened?”
Greta sobbed loudly. “I’m so sorry. I had no choice. They took my niece, Monica. Said if I didn’t help them they’d kill her.”
Bethany’s gaze connected with his.
“I knew something wasn’t right last night. You weren’t yourself. I should’ve pressed.” Bethany’s eyebrow rose at Davies’ statement. He moved to hold Greta.
It was more than obvious that Davies held a flame for the housekeeper and they were close enough he had recognised her inner turmoil.
“It’s all right, Greta.” Bethany placed a comforting hand on the older woman’s arm. “You did what you had to. No one blames you. We all would’ve done the same in your position. Besides we’re all okay aside for some bumps and bruises and lack of sleep.”
Declan shook his head. Trust Bethany to alleviate the woman’s guilt when it could’ve easily gone the other way. He doubted he would be so forgiving in the same circumstance regardless of the stakes. His gut churned at the thought of the child.
Bethany moved away from Greta who buried her head into Davies’s chest.
“I’d rather you didn’t tell my father about Greta’s involvement.” Her whisper reached him as she stopped beside him.
“By all means. I doubt he would be as understanding as you.”
“Is this where we’re dumping the bodies?” The rough, gravelly voice seemed out of place within the lavish mansion. Gordon McAllister joined them, dragging a badly beaten body behind him without breaking a sweat.
“I trust you don’t need help.” Declan leaned a hip against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. What a bunch. Not your typical gardener and chef that was for sure.
McAllister’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Nah. Had a good old time I did. I’m more alive tonight than I’ve been in years.”
“Glad we could oblige.” Declan’s dry tone was lost on the older man.
Declan withdrew his phone from his pocket and handed it to Bethany. “Call Hawke. Tell him everything and get him out here, preferably before they start waking up but I doubt with McAllister and Davies here you’ll have any problem.”
He started towards the front door.
Bethany followed him. “Where are you going?”
“After Hunter.” He clenched his jaw. This ended tonight. He was going to teach that bastard a lesson. Only a cretin would involve innocents. He’d crossed a line when he’d involved Bethany in his dispute with Bennett, but taking Greta’s niece was something else.
“Declan, no.” Bethany gasped as they moved out into the cold night.
He pulled her close and kissed her hard and fast. “Stay here and wait for Hawke.” A moment later, he started the engine of his Ford Territory. Gunning the accelerator, Bethany’s words were lost beneath the squeal of tyres.
The last thing he saw was Bethany storming back inside the house.
Chapter 44
Declan moved silently through the overstated house. The home/office/operations centre was located in one of the pricier sections of old Harbour Bay. One of the first areas to be populated although the area had grown, the region in which Declan found himself dated back to the early nineteen hundreds. The houses had a Victorian, England feel and had been built to match on the border of the town.
He moved through one stately room into the next. The design keeping with the exterior of the house where one room was accessible through more than one door. A man could easily get lost in the maze of rooms before he found his way.
His body throbbed, his knee tender and his fingers needed to be set. More than anything he wanted to get back to Bethany and assure her that everything was okay but before he could do that he had to find the child and put Hunter away.
A gun cocked behind him and he froze. Damn it. He wasn’t as good as he used to be. There had been a time when no one could sneak up on him. He must be tired, he decided and quickly began running through his options and formulating a plan to get out of the situation alive.
“Turn around slowly.” Declan followed the order and came face to face with a man with dark, almost black eyes that were too small for his face. His mud brown hair had been gelled down and his nauseating cologne smelled as if he had bathed in it. He was a tall man, five-nine, Declan guessed and kept his body in superb shape. His torso looked as if he had been carved out of stone.
“Who the hell are you?” The man ran his cold gaze over him. “You’re not a cop. Cops need warrants to snoop around my office otherwise it’s inadmissible in court.”
Declan assumed the man to be Isaac Hunter. He had as much arrogance as a man in his position would.
“I’m a cop. But just not right now. At this moment, I’m just a man—a very pissed off man. Where is the kid?”
Hunter’s lip curled to one side as if he found their meeting amusing. “Ah, so you’re the bodyguard. The one giving my man so much trouble. I couldn’t understand it myself. A bullet in the head does wonders for problems such as you. Toss your weapon over there, nice and easy.”
Declan followed Hunter’s instructions. For the time being the man held all the cards but as always with a game of chance, anything could happen and anyone’s luck could change. Declan hoped it was his.
The gun landed on the carpet off to the side with a thud. He looked back at Hunter even as he moved closer to his enemy. Not so close as to be considered threatening but close enough he would be able to defend himself should things go seriously south. Considering the situation, it was only a matter of time.
Hunter smirked.
“Your man is probably in handcuffs right about now on the way to the LAC.”
Hunter shrugged. It made no matter to him. “I figured as much with you standing here.”
He stared him down. “Revenge is the downfall of many men. You should’ve left the woman alone. What is so damn important about that container, Hunter that you sicced your pit-bull on her? Drugs? Explosives? Weapons maybe? Whatever it is you’ll never get your hands on it.”
Hunter smiled, this time his whole mouth moved to reveal his teeth. It wasn’t a pleasant look. “You think so, huh? By tomorrow morning you’ll be dead and I’ll have my container. My men are already in position to take it.”
Declan pivoted his body into a fighting stance while still looking defeated. “I’m surprised you trust your men to such an important task. So far they have failed at every turn.”
Hunter’s grey eyes narrowed. “One last chance to redeem themselves and once I’ve succeeded I’ll be going after the Bennett woman myself.”
Declan tensed. Knowing Hunter planned to hunt Bethany down was somehow much more frightening a prospect than having Jackson hover over her. Hunter was a ruthless man. He would take far more pleasure out of the kill—or at least the moments leading up to it—than anyone else would.
“You’ll have your container why not leave the girl alone? She’s not a part of this.” Not that it mattered much. He had no plans on letting Hunter out of this room alive. He was only buying time so that he could ge
t in a better position.
“It’s payment for my aggravation.”
Declan kicked out. His foot connected with Hunter’s hand, knocking the gun to the floor.
Hunter snarled. “That’s all right I’d prefer to gut you like the pig you are.” Hunter drew a large knife from a leather sheath attached to his belt. The knife was razor sharp, the overhead light reflecting back in the steel. Hunter handled the weapon with ease of someone proficient in its use.
Declan jumped back. He sucked in a breath as the point of the knife swung towards him. He bowed his back and missed being cut by mere millimetres. Much too close for comfort.
He avoided another lunge, searching for a way to diffuse the situation. He didn’t like his odds at the moment and being unarmed made him more vulnerable. He deflected another attack. He moved about the room, placing objects between him and Hunter.
White-hot pain burned down his arm as he took a hit. The blade sliced easily through his shirt and skin. He muttered a savage curse. Blood seeped from the wound.
Hunter was everywhere, his knife slashing so fast it was a silver blur. Hunter jabbed. Declan retreated. Hunter advanced again. The knife went through his flesh without resistance and he left him feeling weak. He did all he could to defend himself, bringing up his hands to fight off the attack as he moved closer in hopes of disarming Hunter. He kicked out and connected with the man’s shin even as he gripped Hunter’s wrist in a vice-like grip and twisted. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the arm that held the knife.
He felt the blow to his thigh and ignored the pain. It was followed by sharp pressure to his abdomen as the blade drove home. He cried out and it took everything he had to stay on his feet. He stumbled back, trying to regroup. He was quickly losing this fight. He tried all the moves he knew, but he was injured, bleeding profusely from his multiple wounds and was only armed with his fists. They were little against the speed of a sharp blade.
Every breath he took was painful. Darkness threatened to swamp him but he refused to give into the sweet oblivion. Too much was riding on his success. Bethany’s face popped into his mind as if to remind him of what he was fighting for. This bastard had placed a bounty on her head. She was hurting, scared, and guilt-ridden because of him and now he held a child capture all because of his desire to something he had no right to obtain.
Bethany and Monica were innocents. They should never have been involved.
A real man fought his wars on a field of battle not slaughtering women and children. But then he knew, Isaac Hunter was no man. He was a coward who hid behind guns and knives instead of duking it out, man to man, just four fists. He was a man who employed boys to do his dirty work.
He was slowing down, Declan realised with disgust. For a time, he had managed to dodge Hunter’s advance but now he was on him again. The blade glided along his skin again, revealing more blood. But he still had some fight left and an O’Neill never backed down from a fight. Not while there was still breath in his body.
He gritted his teeth. Determination the only thing fuelling him. He blocked Hunter’s arm as he attempted to stab him again. Declan sent his fist right into Hunter’s stomach. He raised his knee and brought Isaac’s head down. A satisfying crunch signalled that he had broken Isaac’s nose.
Hunter screamed and lunged, his head bowed down knocking his full force into Declan. Pain shot through him as his wound tore wider. His vision turned black and he swayed with dizziness just as his legs gave way. He fell to the plush carpet with a bone-jarring thud, unable to right himself. Stars burst behind his eyes and he was acutely aware of each cut and stab wound. He had never thought once that Hunter might get the better of him. Now he stood corrected.
He floundered around like a fish out of water as he bled all over Hunter’s expensive carpet. His legs were jelly, his body cold. Hunter stood over him, malicious glee on his face. He couldn’t move. His body giving up the fight even as his mind protested. His eyes fluttered, refusing to believe the truth even though it was right in front of him. He was going to die.
I’m sorry, Beth. I never did protect you the way I should’ve.
He didn’t regret any of their time together. He couldn’t. Not one single touch or kiss. She’s his woman—the only woman for him. He only wished he could take her in his arms once more and tell her he loved her.
He blinked up into Hunter smiling face, resigned to his fate. One thing about O’Neills they were men. Real men. He wasn’t about to cower before him. Wouldn’t lower himself. Wouldn’t waste his breath begging for his life. He had fought and he had lost. His body had given up otherwise he would still be fighting but that was no reason not to look death in the eyes.
“I’m going to enjoy cutting your throat.”
Chapter 45
“No!”
Blood rushed to Bethany’s ears when she found Declan, beaten and bloody, and a man she assumed was Hunter standing over him, ready to end his life. She’d almost been too late. Declan was hurt, his body bruised. She had no idea how much blood he’d already lost. She’d been right to follow him. She only regretted losing sight of him and not getting here sooner. Not that she could’ve prevented it. She probably would’ve made it worse but he was only involved in all this because of her.
She launched on to Hunter’s back. Her arm slipped around his throat as her legs clamped around his hips. He bucked, trying to dislodge but she only held tighter and applied more pressure to his windpipe.
Her weight, as she slammed into him, caused Hunter to lose balance. He attempted to correct himself but was too late. His face connected with the wall, his knife thankfully became lodged in the wood stud behind the plasterboard and no amount of yanking on his part was he able to remove it.
She clenched her hand into a fist and repeatedly pounded on his kidneys as hard as she could. If only she had a weapon of some sort, but the moment she had seen Declan covered in blood all rational thought had gone. She’d launched her attack without first thinking of a plan. Even now she was winging it, hoping for the best. Every move she made was designed to cause as much pain as possible. Her nails dug deep into his skin. Her arm pressed down on his trachea in hopes of crushing it.
He choked on a howl of pain as she dug her thumb into one of his eyes. The wet spongy feeling made her sick to her stomach but one quick glance at Declan she knew she didn’t have time to be squeamish. She held onto him when he bucked, trying to dislodge her. He reached out behind him and caught a fist full of hair and shirt as he pulled. A tear escaped her eye at the sudden pain but she didn’t release him.
She didn’t dare to. Certainly couldn’t afford to.
He grabbed her arm and twisted with such force she cried out. Her tendons protested but she only held on tighter. He spun around and her vision blurred. Beth felt the air leave her lungs as she was sandwiched between Hunter’s hard back and the wall. To make matters worse for her, he ground her into the sheetrock. He moved away only to return to the wall harder than the time before. Her head bounced off the wall and her body ached with fatigue and abuse.
Within in a minute he had taken control of the situation, throwing her off his back to the floor and turned a murderous look on her. Beth had never been more frightened in her entire life than she was at that moment.
Not even when Jesse had been shot beside her.
“Look who we have here.” Hunter’s voice was strained from her abuse and satisfaction curled inside her. “You’ve saved me a lot of trouble to go and get you, my dear. I did have plans to just kill you outright and send you back to your father in pieces but now a different plan is forming in my mind.”
Bethany shivered. It wasn’t the first time tonight she had seen that lustful look. She was extremely conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra or underwear beneath her clothes and the knowledge made her feel more vulnerable.
“Yes, I believe that will be perfect. I’ll send you home to daddy bruised, beaten and well used. Your father won’t help but remember me each time he sees
you. That should teach him from fucking people over. My container should’ve been his number one priority.”
He moved a threatening step forward. Bethany reached out blindly as she scuttled back on her palms and feet like a crab as he advanced on her. She knew she was on her own. Declan had faded out of consciousness not long after she arrived.
Her fingers encountered the coolness of a gun and she quickly grabbed the barrel as Hunter yanked her to her feet. Her knee came up and hit him hard in the groin. He howled and he doubled over. Remembering what Declan had once told her about never stopping until your enemy was down, she slammed the butt of the Glock down hard on Hunter’s head. She shuddered at the satisfying yet sickening crack of his skull. He crumpled to the ground.
Bethany took a step forward and nudged his prone form with her foot. When he didn’t stir, she backed away from him and knelt beside Declan. He was cool to the touch and there was so much blood.
She wasn’t sure of any first aid she could administer that would do any good. She had to get him out of there. But first, there was something else she had to do. Bethany stood up, readjusting the gun in her hand and started down the hall.
“Monica, Monica?”
Please let her be here—safe, she amended her prayer as she moved down a long hallway. The house which doubled as Hunter’s house and base of operations was a large two-story mansion, not in the same league as her own but the square feet was enough to make her job daunting. She quickly estimated that there were at least fifteen rooms in the house, including family, dining and sitting rooms besides the bedrooms, kitchen and office. Then there were the closets and who knew what lurked beyond each door.
She had yet to see any of Hunter’s lackeys but that didn’t mean they weren’t here, waiting. Bethany forced herself to take another step forward. Then another. Flashes of scenes from horror movies flicked through her mind and she imagined herself opening a door and finding a hired killer. She bit back a whimper of fear.
Gilded Cage (Harbour Bay Book 6) Page 22
