Unbreakable s8-2

by Stephanie Tyler

  “I’ll go.”

  Andy propelled him onto the back porch. Started stripping him, and it was then Gunner realized his clothes were stained with Josie’s blood. His body shook and he got sick over the side of the porch. Andy held him so he didn’t fall over.

  He wanted to ask why Andy was helping him. Wanted the man to punch him out. To stab him, shoot him, accuse him outright. But the being nice was the biggest and most effective dagger that sank directly into his heart.

  He was paralyzed with shame and fear. And he couldn’t admit to Andy where he’d been, although the man was far from stupid. He and Mike had to suspect something.

  He let Andy strip him, take his clothes and burn them out in the swamp, where the remains would be quickly swallowed by the bayou. Mike brought out a packed bag, new clothes, while Gunner washed with the pump in the back so he didn’t drag any more blood through the house.

  “I’m going to call the police in a couple of hours. We’re going to say this was a home invasion and that you’re away, visiting a friend. I have a Navy buddy who’ll provide the cover story for you,” Mike said. “You have to leave. James, do you understand?”

  “I’ll go.”

  “James.” He was forced to look into Mike’s eyes. “We’re not kicking you out. We’re protecting you.”

  “Why?”

  “Josie would never forgive us if we didn’t.”

  He hadn’t seen Mike or Andy since he’d left that night. They hadn’t lied about helping him. They’d set him up to have shelter, to get new identification and paperwork, to create an entirely new life that led him into the Navy and then the SEALs and finally into a shop back in New Orleans where he tattooed people and helped mercenaries like himself in an attempt to pay back the penance he owed.

  He’d learned lessons. Done what he could to erase a past he’d stepped back into.

  But Avery was safe, and he’d never regret that.

  * * *

  It was almost midnight by the time they’d sat down to eat. Andy had cooked while Avery, Mike and Jem utilized different computers, Jem and Mike searching for any trace of Gunner, while Avery answered e-mails from Dare and Grace so they wouldn’t worry.

  She was starving and the food was delicious. Reminded her of how Gunner would cook for her.

  “You should both stay here for now. Safer for all of us,” Mike told them as he gave her and Jem seconds.

  He was right and Jem, who knew it too, said, “I’ve got to move my truck.”

  Andy pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out keys, tossed them at Jem. “I already put it into our garage and brought your bags in.”

  Jem grunted. “Could still take you out, squid.”

  Andy snorted and Mike looked over at her.

  “Thank you,” she said. She’d been quiet after they’d talked some more about what Gunner was dealing with. She was trying to absorb everything, and it proved overwhelming. “I should call the hospital about Billie Jean—let her know we’re okay if she comes through. When she comes through,” she corrected.

  “I’ll make sure she knows you’re okay,” Mike said. “I already checked with my contact from the hospital. She made it through surgery. Still critical, but they’re hopeful. She’s opened her eyes and she’s spoken to the police briefly.”

  “What about his other ex-wives?” she asked, assuming that Mike and Andy knew about that too.

  “I’ve got guys on both of them. One’s in Europe—hard to find. The other’s in Colorado. She’s staying with friends, being careful.”

  “Good.” She finished the rice and beans and sausage, ate more fresh bread and finished her beer. Now that her stomach was full and she knew that Billie was okay, it was time to turn her mind back to Gunner and the rescue effort. “How do we bring a man back who doesn’t want to come back?”

  “I’ve always found waterboarding to be pretty effective,” Jem said, then stopped when they all just stared at him. “Not what we were going for?”

  Mike and Andy looked at each other and shrugged. “We were about to try it on you,” Andy told Jem.

  “Not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Mike agreed, and Jem nodded sagely, as though he agreed with the fact that they’d been planning on torturing him.

  She took a long drink of beer, then asked, “You think that’s really going to work on him?”

  “I think it’s the only thing he’ll understand at this point,” Jem said.

  “He’s only been with Landon for a couple of weeks, at the most,” she pointed out.

  “That’s more than enough,” Jem told her.

  She asked the question she’d been dreading, the one she knew the answer to. “Do you think he agreed to go back because they threatened him?”

  “I think he went back because they threatened you, Avery,” Mike said.

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Excuse me.” She pushed away from the table, went into the next room for some space. She blinked back tears, held herself together as she looked around at the pictures scattered on the table.

  They were mainly of the men and Josie. A woman who was most likely Josie’s mom. And, if she looked closely, there were a few of a younger Gunner. The fact that these men kept his pictures here after what had happened . . .

  She turned away. This was like sneaking into someone’s past, uninvited.

  Can’t change the past, Avery, Mom would tell her. What’s done is done. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change the future.

  “What’s going on, Avery?” Jem asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He stared at her and she got the distinct impression she’d be next in line for light waterboarding if she didn’t talk. “I saw him, Jem. Recently.”

  “When?” Jem demanded.

  “A week ago. He came to my hotel room and . . .” She trailed off. “I didn’t ask him where he’d been and he didn’t offer. I didn’t want to freak him out by asking him to stay, so . . . dammit. He made love to me and he left.”

  “That doesn’t mean you suck in bed or anything,” Jem said.

  She crossed her arms and stared him down. “Thanks.”

  “Aw, come on, you know what the deal is with him now. The fact that he came back, even for a little while, is good news. But you have to stop holding shit back from me. I’m the king of shitty choices, Avery. I won’t judge you.” Jem put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re still the key to getting Gunner back with us.”

  “Thanks for saying that.” She paused, considering. “Maybe Gunner doesn’t know Landon’s trying to kill us.”

  “Or maybe Gunner sent them,” Jem said.

  “I can’t believe he’d do that.”

  “I don’t want to either.”

  She glanced at the picture of Josie and Gunner. “They both look so young. Innocent.”

  “Yeah, they do.”

  The fact that Gunner might’ve done this, given up his life, his love of tattooing, and gone to work with the worst kind of criminals because of her made her ache. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the picture of Josie.

  “I won’t let him down, Josie,” she whispered as she ran a hand along the picture like a promise. “I swear I won’t let him down again.”

  “You didn’t let him down,” Jem told her, but she knew better. She hadn’t begged Gunner to stay with her out of some misguided notion that it had to be his idea to stay.

  Gunner had been waiting for her to ask. When she hadn’t . . .

  “Let’s go find him,” she told Jem.

  “Atta girl.”

  Chapter Nine

  No contact, except for emergencies. That had been Avery’s rule, and Dare agreed with it, beyond his better judgment. He knew she wanted him and Grace to have time alone together. And it was much-needed time, he agreed. Their meeting had been a goddamned hurricane with a tornado thrown in for good measure.

  Downtime would tell the tale . . . and so far, the tale was still damned fine.

  “You’re thinking about th
e team again,” Grace said with a smile.

  “So were you.”

  She shrugged, not minding being caught. The bikini she wore should be outlawed, because it was really just string and crocheted material and he would’ve been covering her with a towel if they were anywhere but in the privacy of their own beach. The resort he’d picked was known for its share of guests who didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. Their food was cooked, left for them discreetly. They barely saw the people who cleaned their rooms while they were lounging on the beach.

  “We’re supposed to think about Section 8,” she reminded him. “That’s the point of Avery’s forced vacation.”

  “She’s really bossy, isn’t she?” he grumbled, but couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “A family trait,” she told him.

  “Aw, come on, baby. That’s not fair.”

  “I’ve never fought fair.”

  He stared up at the blue sky, sunglasses firmly in place. They’d all been to hell and back and none of them fought fairly when it was necessary for their survival. Typically, though, that happened when they were worried about one another’s survival more than their own.

  Which was exactly why this new S8 would gel so perfectly.

  “You think they’re all fine?” she asked.

  He noted the concern in her voice. “You’re worried?”

  “It’s just . . . a feeling,” she said. And, yes, he knew her feelings.

  “Grace?”

  She pressed her lips together. “I’m probably just nervous.”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, look, it’s not a nervous, something horrible is happening right now feeling. But . . . maybe we should put in a call. Tomorrow. Give me another night to let this settle.”

  Grace had premonitions for as far back as she could remember, until Rip, as she called her stepfather, had decided to see if she was as strong as she seemed to be.

  Turned out, she had been, even though Rip had tortured her for a year, kept her locked up, let his men hurt her, but her gift of premonition had suffered, retreated so deeply inside her and refused to come out. Slowly, the premonitions were returning, but although they were unreliable as to when they would come, the feelings were spot-on.

  At least she hadn’t had any that were like the ones Dare first saw. Those were painful, made her space out and lose consciousness.

  Now that Rip was out of her life for good, Grace felt she was able to come to terms with it all.

  Except for what Gunner had been through. She knew Gunner felt guilty about her. And she worried that that could actually be all their undoing.

  * * *

  It wasn’t an easy process. Avery knew that, with every week that passed, they were losing Gunner more and more.

  Mike and Andy were amazing with comms. They’d made a lot of headway in tracking Landon, or rather, keeping track of him.

  “Gunner must’ve been doing the same thing,” Jem surmised. “Ever get a look at his computers?”

  “Sure, but there was so much going on I wouldn’t have known what to look for. Landon’s info might’ve been right in front of my face and I wouldn’t have known. My focus at that point was on Dare and Powell.”

  Tracking Landon wasn’t the same as tracking Gunner at all. The men were never in the same place at the same time, and for good reason. And the reports that piled up about the jobs Gunner was doing mainly showcased him taking down notorious human traffickers and freeing the women and children who’d been captured.

  “Why does Landon waste time doing this?” she asked.

  “Why does a criminal do anything? Sometimes it’s less of why and more of why not,” Jem said. “But hell, this guy has to have a motive. This isn’t ordinary stuff.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to horn in on his business. Smuggling’s smuggling. And the people who want to leave the country would pay good money.”

  “But it’s two different skill sets. Trafficking to sell humans is different than sneaking a few away from the law and creating a new life for them. The women and children who get sold sure as hell don’t need birth certificates and credit cards.”

  Landon seemed to be a master at reintroducing fugitives into the world with a clean slate. Of course, half the time the CIA caught up with them, although it took years and was usually because of transgressions performed under the new names. Because criminals didn’t change. They couldn’t, Jem had told her. “What’s in your blood is what’s in your blood. You’re a prime example of that.”

  What about Gunner? Powell was in his blood. But she didn’t say it out loud, didn’t want to make Jem answer. She’d bet he’d thought about it, though.

  The only good that came out of waiting was that Jem was able to buy the properties back. He used a dummy corporation name and added extra security measures to the empty place and they stayed there in between searches. Avery was almost hoping they’d lure someone back who wanted to hurt them on Gunner’s behalf, but no one came.

  Finally, almost four months from when she’d last seen Gunner, they had their first solid lead. Along the way, she’d met more men and women of dubious character, made contacts, hung out with mercenaries and thieves, sometimes those who were one and the same, and generally tried to keep herself calm.

  With Jem, that was easy. Somehow his bent to crazy calmed her. When he would get drunk, dance on tables, ride the bull, drink the worm, she would be the one dragging his ass out of the bar and into bed.

  “Sometimes I think you’re doing all this shit to keep my mind off the fact that we haven’t found Gunner yet,” she’d muttered to him one night.

  He’d laughed drunkenly, touched his nose and then pointed to her. Yeah, bingo, she thought dryly.

  In the morning, they’d take a small plane two islands over. Gunner was rumored to be doing a job for Landon, and that information was leaked from one of Landon’s own men in return for the sole purpose of chartering a boat for said job.

  Tomorrow, she’d be closer to Gunner than she’d been in months. She said a small prayer that they were doing the right thing and braced herself for everything to go wrong that possibly could.

  Chapter Ten

  The guards positioned on the beach were taken care of. The house loomed in front of him. He wiped the blood from his knife along the grass and shoved it back into its sheath. He secured it around his arm and continued along the dark beach.

  It had finally happened. He’d stopped feeling. Again. He’d known it would happen, wasn’t sure if he should welcome it or hate it.

  This time, it had only taken five months. Five months of hell, in order to prove himself to a taskmaster he’d never wanted to impress in the first place. Five months to get back into the man’s good graces.

  He pushed forward like a machine. Couldn’t remember the last time he ate or slept and he really didn’t give a shit. All he needed to do was the job—this one and the one after it, get the people moved where they needed to be moved to and take out anyone Landon deemed unworthy.

  Landon had made him the star of his show, Let’s Play God, Judge and Jury, all in his quest to take down human traffickers. The satisfaction he gained by helping the women and children go free after killing men who’d imprisoned them would wane quickly with every criminal he’d helped to sneak out of countries, across borders and away from justice.

  It wasn’t like the first time. Would never be like that again.

  He glanced up at the light in the window ahead of him. It blinked twice and as he moved forward, it went dark.

  When he blinked again, he was no longer standing on a beach looking up at a house where he’d seen the signal.

  He was in a room that looked like a police station. Bare cement walls, what he assumed to be a two-way mirror and him chained to a metal chair in the middle of the room. The chair was semichained in place too. It had a little give, but there was no way he could get up and tackle anyone without slamming himself down to the floor in the process.

  Motherfucker
.

  He tested his hands to see if there was any give. Legs too.

  “Wouldn’t bother, you asshole. I know how to keep someone from getting away.”

  Jem’s voice. He stilled as he heard the man approach him from behind.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” he said, and for a moment, there was silence. Until he found himself with his cheek on the bare floor, his head aching from the blow, his body following suit on the unforgiving tile. “I will fucking kill you,” Gunner promised.

  Jem righted the chair unforgivingly, stood in front of him and taunted, “I’m right here, big boy. Come on.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d let the former spook get the better of him. He’d gotten too comfortable, had immersed himself back into the life. He’d assumed S8 had let him go.

  Instead, Jem had used a dart filled with sedative and now he used chains with prongs inside the wrist and ankle bands, which Gunner grudgingly admitted was a nice touch. He shifted his weight slightly. Being slammed to the floor had cut the shit out of his skin. Blood trickled down his fingertips, dripped to the cement floor. He’d been drugged, so he hadn’t been able to count the miles or know how long he’d traveled to get here. Wherever here was.

  He had no doubt they’d ditched his phone and his bag.

  That was both good and bad. Meant Landon couldn’t find him. Which meant he couldn’t find Avery or Jem.

  At least not yet.

  He heard Landon’s words, whispered in his ear. “If you go missing, I’ll hunt you down. And you’d better pray I find you captured and not running. . . .”

  He had to get the hell out of here. Even if he had to kill Jem to do it. Which needed to happen as soon as he regained full consciousness.

  He didn’t know how soon after that thought it happened—Jem pouring water over his head. He sputtered. Spat. Cursed.

  And then Jem did it again and again. What the fuck? Was the asshole trying to re-create hell week?

  “I will kill you,” he told Jem when he was allowed to breathe air instead of water for a full minute.

  “You try, Gunner.” Jem poured the water again. “Who’re you working for?”