Unbreakable s8-2

by Stephanie Tyler

  I don’t know who that is. How could he not know Gunner’s mom’s name?

  “You’re taking Gunner away from jobs he does best, Avery. He saves helpless women and children. Don’t you think that’s important?”

  “He doesn’t need you to help people.”

  Landon smiled, a cunning, chilling look. “You can’t really believe that.”

  There was more blood every time Landon put the knife in her face. She whimpered because her body was cold now, numb and cold, and she was running out of time.

  “Did your perfect James tell you what he did for me? What a good worker bee he was?”

  “He was trying to save his wife. He was trying to survive.” God, her voice was clearer now, which meant the drugs were wearing off. Soon, she might feel everything.

  She didn’t know how much worse that could be.

  Landon smiled, that wicked, horrible smile that told her he was getting so much enjoyment out of this. “He’ll do anything to survive.”

  “So would most people. But Gunner would never sell out the people he loves.”

  “No, he’ll just kill children to protect them.”

  She blinked, wanted to call him a liar, but she knew that it was true, and that’s why Gunner couldn’t talk about it. “I’m sure that whatever he did, it’s because you tricked him into doing it.”

  “I never had to trick him into doing what he was built for.”

  “You can’t know him nearly as well as you think you do.”

  “He spent time in my life. My bed. I knew him intimately.”

  “And now I do. And I’m the one he wants.” She drove that dagger in deep, smiling as she did so.

  “He’ll always come back to me. He always has.”

  “Not this time. Never again.”

  “You think James is yours?” Landon sneered.

  “I think Gunner is his own man. I’ll be damned if I let you force him to do your dirty work.”

  “Force him?” Landon bit out a laugh. “No one forces James to do anything. This job’s in his blood. He’s a legacy.”

  “I know all about legacies,” she spat. “You have no idea what my pedigree is.” She forced herself to calm down. “I want you to know that the next time you see me in person, you won’t breathe longer than ten minutes.”

  “Threats, Avery.”

  “It’s a goddamned promise.” She’d been in that place before. She’d sought vengeance for her mother, killed the men who’d killed her, and she’d discovered it hadn’t made things better at all.

  In fact, it made them somehow worse. But this time, it would be different. She couldn’t save her mother, but she’d be damned if she couldn’t save Gunner.

  But first, she’d have to save herself and survive this. She closed her eyes for a long moment, willing the courage she’d always had to come thrumming back through her body. She noted she was shivering. And her body was aching.

  Oh God, it was wearing off. And he wasn’t done cutting her.

  “Is this the only way you can get it up, by killing the women Gunner loves?” she spat out.

  Instead of answering with words, Landon held up the knife and pressed it to her skin.

  She tried not to scream and failed.

  “Playtime’s over, little girl. You have no idea who you’re up against. But don’t you worry, I’ve got plenty of time to show you.”

  “No matter how long you take, you’ll never show me.” She didn’t care about making him angrier. She’d take her power any way she could, would hang on by her nails, leaving deep claw marks.

  Her hands moved as she thought about that. They moved—only slightly, but the tingle meant that the drug was metabolizing.

  It wouldn’t be fast enough. Because he was still cutting her, and she would wear those scars forever.

  “Remember this. Every time you’re with James, he’s going to see these and think of me. And so are you. If you’d stayed apart . . .”

  “If you’d done a better job of trying to kill me,” she taunted. She wanted to pass out, but she couldn’t. Adrenaline coursed through her body, made the pain bearable. Made her somehow unable to look away.

  The blood welled from the deep cuts. She knew where he was going . . . her beautiful flowers.

  She wouldn’t beg, not even when Drew said, “If you ask nicely, I’ll leave this alone.”

  She didn’t believe him and she forced herself to stay calm. “What kills you more, the fact that Gunner would rather work with me than you, or the fact that Gunner marked me first?”

  That was the end of the conversation and the numbness, but only the beginning of the excruciating pain.

  * * *

  Gunner buried his face in his hands, knew what she was doing and why, but Landon was going to hurt her. The man had lost control . . . if it was truly Drew Landon, Gunner knew he was capable of carrying out his threats. He’d seen Landon torture people firsthand. A lesson he’d never forget.

  “Find her, Jem.”

  Jem nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen. Ten minutes later he had a lock on her location, but Gunner wouldn’t stop listening. He’d been deadly silent, fisting his hands so tightly they’d gone numb. Holding himself ruthlessly in check rather than risk losing the audio link, the only link they had to Avery now, was all he could do as Avery screamed in pain and terror. And then she went quiet, only whimpering occasionally.

  He’d barely noticed that Jem had maneuvered him into the car, driven them back to the airport where the police presence was still heavy. He was still listening as Jem yanked him onto the private plane he’d called in that favor for.

  They didn’t know how sophisticated this audio link was, didn’t know if they’d lose contact in the air, but they had little choice. “Tell him to go, Jem,” Gunner said, after one particularly brutal scream from Avery.

  “Fuck,” Jem breathed, and then yelled, “we have to go now,” and the plane began hurtling toward the runway.

  “Who’s the pilot?”

  “Guy I used to work with. He’ll get us there.”

  “Suppose he moves her?”

  “We’ll fucking find her, Gun. That’s what we do.”

  The audio never cut out. Gunner and Jem didn’t stop listening, even when things went silent on the other end. Silent, but not over.

  “No more,” he heard Avery say softly. She sounded . . . so far away. As if she was fading away and fast.

  “You and James both think you run the show. This should show both of you just where you are on the food chain.” Landon’s voice was clear as a bell, which meant Avery was seriously hurt.

  “We’re landing!” the pilot yelled back. The cockpit door had remained open and Gunner knew they were going at a speed that wasn’t allowed on any airline or private plane. How he was managing to stay off the radar, Gunner had no clue, but he’d owe this man everything.

  As the plane touched down, a hard landing, Gunner could barely hear. As things settled down and the flight came to a stop, Landon asked, “Do you think I should let her live, James?” and Gunner gripped the arms of his seat tightly.

  “I’ll kill you, Landon,” he said, with no way of knowing if the man could hear him. He and Jem raced off the flight into a waiting car that Jem must’ve arranged with the pilot. Gunner took the wheel, pushing the car with the sport engine up to one hundred on the dusty road as Jem tracked the link.

  “We’re close,” Jem said. “Another couple of miles, Gun. Hold steady.”

  Jem already had his weapon drawn. His eyes held a life-or-death look that Gunner had only seen once before and it hadn’t ended well for the man who’d gone up against Jem.

  Gunner pressed his lips together, not wanting to say anything that could make Landon do something stupid. But his suspicions were confirmed when Landon said, “I’m sure right about now, you’re threatening my life. Unfortunately, this audio only streams out. The thing is, James, I keep my promises but you didn’t keep yours. You didn’t stay away from Avery and her
friends. You left me after I gave you a second chance. Now your friends will have to pay.”

  “Signal’s split,” Jem said. “One’s moving away fast. One’s still.”

  “We’ve got to check the one that’s not moving,” he said quietly.

  “Then turn right up here. Up the hill.”

  Gunner parked the car with a slam as close to the old porch as he could. It was a cabin, nestled in a quiet, lush parcel of land that belied any ugliness that had happened here. He used his foot to kick the door in, and Jem went ahead, weapon drawn, clearing room after empty room.

  They got to the final bedroom. Gunner stood in the doorway and blinked. The only thing he saw was blood everywhere. And his flannel shirt shredded on the floor.

  * * *

  Avery didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard muffled voices. She pulled herself off the tile floor where she’d curled up, finally able to move. The pain was excruciating, but moving too much would make her lose more blood she couldn’t afford to lose.

  She’d just prayed for Gunner to come get her. Now she couldn’t be sure who it was on the other side of the bathroom door and she grabbed the bloody knife she’d found on the floor of the bedroom after Landon left her. The knife he’d used on her—she had no choice but to take it and defend herself with it.

  That sick fucking bastard.

  She’d wrapped towels around herself to try to keep warm, and the blood had already seeped through. The adrenaline rushing through her was no doubt stopping the pain, but the dull ache between her legs was slowing her down more every minute.

  She waited, crouched, as the doorknob turned. It seemed to take forever and then light flooded the small room and Jem was pointing a gun at her.

  Jem. She sank to the floor as he came forward to her. She heard Gunner’s shouts, murmured, “Don’t let him see me like this,” to Jem, but it was too late. Gunner was there, his expression of horror quickly erased by one of calm concern.

  He moved forward, picked her up and walked her out of the bathroom. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve got you. Don’t look,” he told her as they passed the bed and she buried her face into his chest as he walked them out into the cool air and slid them into a car. She remained curled in his lap as Jem covered them both with a heavy blanket and then she floated in and out of consciousness once the car started to move.

  She was safe. She’d survived. She’d made it through.

  She’d let the need for revenge carry her the rest of the way through, would let it burn through her body like a fire that would stop the pain.

  “She needs a hospital,” Gunner said quietly at one point. “I can stitch her, but I don’t have all the supplies with me.”

  “No. Too many questions,” she murmured.

  “I’ll figure this out,” Jem told them. “Plane had to take back off—air traffic control reported him.”

  The car sped up measurably and Gunner’s arms tightened around her. She didn’t know how long they drove, but at one point they’d stopped and Gunner was putting an IV in, applying pressure bandages where he saw blood and she was fighting him, telling him no. “I don’t want you to see this,” she told him, hated the hurt on his face. He didn’t understand. She couldn’t hurt him more.

  And then they were back in the car, driving more. “Keep talking to me, baby. Just keep talking and everything will be okay.” He’d repeat that over and over until he believed it himself.

  “Tell me . . .” she started.

  “What, chère?” Gunner prompted. “Tell you what?”

  She needed something to focus on, something beyond the terrible, horrible tragedy that was now filling the truck, making these men too close to anger and panic. She needed to bring them back.

  If you find the strength, your men will pull it from you. Find it. In your darkest of times, it will get all of you through. She swore she could hear Adele’s voice telling her that, even though she’d never met the woman.

  “How did you two first meet?” she asked, her voice slightly slurred. “Or is that classified, supersecret spy information?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You want to know that now?” Jem asked over his shoulder.

  “Road, Jem—watch the road,” Gunner told him. Looked at her. “Really?”

  “Would help me. Please.”

  Gunner’s jaw tightened, as though he didn’t think he should be telling stories at a time like this. But that’s exactly why she needed him to do it.

  “It was my first year with the teams,” he started. “We were in Beirut on a recon mission when we got the call about a hostage situation in the British embassy.”

  “I still don’t know why the hell they called you guys in,” Jem interrupted, and Gunner stared at the back of Jem’s head, the familiar I will kill you expression on his face.

  She would’ve laughed, but it would hurt too much. The truck’s steady rhythm and Gunner’s voice soothed her in a way not much else would’ve at the moment.

  Get them to treat you normally, no matter how abnormal the situation. Reassuring them reassures you.

  “Our objective was recon during the day, and then we were supposed to go in, grab the hostage, take out the gunman, all while the hostage negotiator with the CIA was distracting him,” Gunner continued. “It was a good plan.”

  “It was a shitty plan and you know that now,” Jem corrected.

  “It was meant to minimize bloodshed and unrest,” Gunner shot back.

  “It was already too late for that shit.”

  Gunner stared at the back of Jem’s head, then muttered to her, “He’s right. The gunman garnered all sorts of unwanted attention—purposely—from the media and the locals. By the time my team got there, it was a barely controlled mass hysteria in the streets. The local police were close to losing total control of the situation. They’d called in soldiers to help, but that seemed to make things worse. The gunman was already agitated and unstable, and he started to lose it when the soldiers rolled up the street.”

  “In a goddamned tank. Tell her that,” Jem prompted.

  “You just did,” Gunner pointed out. “The gunman—his name was Kassim—”

  “I thought it was Amir.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I’m the one who got shot, so yeah.”

  “Jem got shot?” she asked.

  “Just a little bit, honey,” he told her.

  “Anyway, Kassim shot out the window, yelled to us that he was taking the first one out,” Gunner said. “The hostage negotiators weren’t there yet—”

  “Probably having lunch discussing the psychology of the hostage or some shit like that. Hostage negotiators are never there when you need them.”

  “That’s the first true thing he’s said so far,” Gunner said.

  “Who’s crazy now?” Jem added.

  “You still are.” Gunner looked at her. She was smiling a little. “So anyway, all of a sudden, I hear some guy yelling, ‘Fuck this shit.’ And this crazy-eyed person steps through the crowd. Cuts through it like butter, Avery. I’ve never seen anything like it. Or maybe they were just backing away from the crazy.”

  Jem snorted at that.

  “So this one guy—another agent, I think—says, ‘Sir, we’re waiting for the negotiator. Please don’t make the situation worse.’ And so Jem turns to him and says, ‘I’m the negotiator,’ and he keeps walking. He’s beyond the police lines at this point and everyone just goes quiet watching him walk into the building. Even the gunman’s looking out the window, and he’s kind of stunned at the death wish Jem had going on.”

  “Again, the second true thing Gunner’s said all night,” Jem added.

  “And so he’s inside and the gunman’s all freaked out, starts firing at him immediately, but he’s wired and so his shots are going all over the place. And Jem’s just walking toward him, weapon drawn, not firing. Just walking straight at him. And finally, he gets right up on the guy. Right in his face. And he just takes the gun from him. Tells the
people to get the hell out of the building.”

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “How did you know what happened inside the building?”

  Jem started laughing, that crazy laugh she’d come to know so well. “Tell her, Gun. Tell her how you followed me inside the building.”

  “Even then, I knew someone had to watch your back.”

  “I had it under control.”

  “What happened to the gunman?” she asked.

  “Jem waited until everyone got out safely. Then he shot the guy dead and told everyone he’d done them a favor by saving them the cost of an execution. I visited him in jail,” Gunner said wryly.

  “I was only detained, not arrested,” Jem told her. “Ridiculous red tape.”

  “He tried to get into the hostage negotiating team right after that. Used that as proof he’d do a good job,” Gunner said with a roll of his eyes. “I told you—twenty pounds of crazy stuffed in a five-pound bag.”

  “But he’s our crazy,” she said with a smile.

  “Yeah, he is,” Gunner confirmed. “Crazy and I will get you through this.”

  “Crazy just found the perfect motel.”

  Under the cover of night, Gunner carried her into one of the adjoining motel rooms and put her on one of the beds. She was holding the blanket tight, shivering uncontrollably. Her body was wet with blood, although the cuts had stopped bleeding considerably, thanks to the pressure bandages.

  “Come on, chère. Gotta let me help,” Gunner urged.

  “She doesn’t want you to see this, man,” Jem told Gunner.

  “I don’t have a choice. I need to help her.”

  “Get her comfortable and give me half an hour.”

  “What are you going to do, find a doctor?”

  Jem pointed and for the first time, Gunner noted they were across the street from a clinic with an ER. “Gotta be someone in there who’ll help and keep their mouth shut.”

  “Jem—” Gunner started, but the man was already out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Gunner focused on Avery, who was trying to make sure the blankets were covering her. Keeping her calm and from going into shock were two things he could do. Uncovering her now would make things worse, although he wished to hell he’d brought his medic bag. Being helpless never sat well with him, but this . . .