by Elle Kennedy
The guard stepped forward.
D’s shoulders tensed. Screw it. He was taking the bastards down.
“Any final words?” Mendez asked Sofia.
D couldn’t look at her. He was too busy planning his attack, working over the possible snags. Disarm Paulo. Shot to the head. Shot to Mendez’s head. That was the easy part.
Outside the cell, who the fuck knew. D didn’t have an exact head count of the guards in the prison, but he knew there was a damn army posted at the marina and airstrip. He and Sofia would get shot down, no doubt about it.
But he’d rather take a bullet during an escape attempt than watch Sofia get executed right in front of him.
“Nothing to say?” Mendez clicked his tongue. “Well, that’s your right, I suppose.” He focused on D. “Turn around, Jason. I want you to see this.”
D obeyed only because it put him side by side with Paulo. It’d be easier to twist the man’s wrist from this position, pry the gun away without taking a bullet to the face.
He adjusted his stance, his peripheral vision fixed on the barrel of the silver forty-five. Sofia’s slender frame against the wall was out of focus, but he saw that she’d closed her eyes. And she’d crossed her arms over her belly.
The protective pose broke his fucking heart. Christ, he hadn’t realized he still had a heart. But apparently he did, and it hurt like a motherfucker. Hurt even worse when he caught the slight movement of Sofia’s palms stroking her stomach.
“Do it,” Mendez ordered.
Paulo cocked the weapon, then homed in on his target: Sofia’s forehead.
D drew a steady stream of air into his lungs. Relaxed his body and emptied his mind. It was time to end this bullshit.
He didn’t get the chance, because Paulo’s hand suddenly moved at lightning speed.
Deft fingers squeezed the trigger, and a blast of gunfire shook the walls as the man put two bullets in Raoul Mendez’s head.
Chapter 20
Sofia had heard gunshots before, but hearing them fired in a small cell at close range was a whole other experience. It was like an explosion in her eardrums, momentarily deafening her before leaving behind an earsplitting ringing that muffled the shouts flying out of Paulo’s mouth.
It sounded like he was ordering her and D to move, but she was rooted in place. At D’s feet, Mendez’s body lay faceup, blood pouring from the holes in his forehead, trickling down his nose and chin in two gruesome lines.
Paulo had killed Mendez.
Why the hell had Paulo killed Mendez?
Shock paralyzed her body as she stared at their dead captor, but suddenly a dark shadow filled her line of vision. D, grabbing her arm to tug her forward.
His urgent voice penetrated the fog. “Sofia. We have to go.”
She was too numb to argue, too confused to question him. As her pulse shrieked like a banshee, she stumbled after him toward the door. Paulo was in the lead as the three of them raced down the brightly lit corridor, which was eerily empty.
“Where the fuck is everyone?” D demanded.
“He clears the prison during an interrogation,” Paulo answered without turning around. “He doesn’t like witnesses.”
Present tense. The guard was speaking about Mendez in the present tense, after he’d just . . .
God, what the hell was going on?
“Faster,” Paulo barked.
Sofia’s lungs burned as she sprinted after the men. D had let go of her arm, but she felt his gaze on her, heard his even breathing. Their footsteps pounded against the stone floor, halting when they reached the exit.
Paulo checked the clip of his weapon before addressing D. “Stay behind me. I cleared the area beforehand, but some of his men might still be lurking around.”
“Why are you doing this?” D hissed out. “Who are you?”
The other man cocked the gun and reached for the door handle. “I’m one of the good guys.” Anger colored his tone. “And I just blew my goddamn cover to save your ass, so how about you stop asking questions and start following orders?”
“Not until you tell me who the fuck you are.”
Testosterone thickened the air as the two men stared each other down for so long it brought a spark of panic to her gut. Snapping out of her numb state, Sofia grabbed D’s sleeve and spoke in a sharp voice.
“It doesn’t matter who he is. He’s helping us, and that’s all that matters right now.”
D narrowed his eyes.
“One crisis at a time,” Sofia snapped. “First, we get off this fucking island, then we question the man who decided to help us. Okay?”
After a beat, D nodded. “Okay.” He scowled at Paulo, who looked impatient as hell. “Lead the way, savior.”
The man’s nostrils flared in irritation. Then he raised his weapon and threw open the door.
Sofia’s heart pounded as they crept outside. The dirt courtyard was empty, save for the Jeep parked twenty feet away. No guards. No alarms blaring in the distance. Relief swept through her like a flash flood, but it died the moment they reached the vehicle.
Her gaze flew back to the prison as something occurred to her. “The other cells,” she blurted out. “Is there anyone in them?” She suddenly felt sick. “Girls . . . the girls Mendez kidnaps?”
Paulo was quick to shake his head. “The latest shipment went out three days ago. The prison is empty.”
This time the relief was bittersweet. The shipment. God, how could he talk about human beings that way? Those girls were living, breathing—
Not the time! an aggravated voice chastised.
Sofia sucked in a breath. Right. It wasn’t the time to rebuke this man about his views on sex trafficking, even internally.
“Get in,” Paulo commanded.
D helped her into the passenger’s seat, then hopped in the front next to Paulo. She noticed his gaze never left the other man. No, the other man’s gun. D’s eyes stayed on the weapon the entire time, as if he were contemplating disarming Paulo and shooting him in the head.
An engine roared to life, and Sofia flew back in her seat when Paulo abruptly stepped on the gas. The Jeep shot forward as he floored it.
The ride was bumpy, jarring her body as they sped off in a dizzying rush. She fumbled for the seat belt and realized there wasn’t one, so she held on to the center console. Held on for dear life as mangroves and palm fronds flashed by in her periphery.
He was going the wrong way. Alarm bells went off in her gut as she realized Paulo was driving east rather than south, moving in a direction that wouldn’t take them back to the house or the marina.
D noticed too, his outraged curse slicing through the hissing wind. “Where are you taking us? That’s not the way to the marina!”
“The marina is suicide,” Paulo shouted over the wind. “I’m getting you off this island, asshole.”
Why? Why was he helping them escape? Why had he killed Mendez?
Sofia’s mind kept getting stuck on that one word. Why. She didn’t trust Paulo, but what other choice did they have? The man had just killed Raoul Mendez. He’d saved Sofia’s life. She had to believe he wouldn’t have gone to all that effort just to later kill her and D.
The moonlight illuminated the path as the Jeep moved at breakneck speed, the scent of salt growing stronger with each mile they placed between them and the prison. The ocean. She could smell the ocean.
A deep pothole in the road had her bouncing in the seat, and she grabbed the back of D’s seat to steady herself. He twisted around to check on her, his eyes softening for a moment before going hard again. She knew he didn’t like this. She didn’t either. But she sure as shit hadn’t liked being locked in a cell, so if her ticket to freedom required having to trust Paulo, then so be it.
She was thrown forward when the vehicle came to a grinding halt on the side of the path. Paulo hopped out and barked another order. “Move. Now.”
D held out his arm for her, and Sofia’s legs shook uncontrollably as her feet hit solid
ground.
“I’ve got a boat stashed beyond those trees,” Paulo told them. “The slope to the beach is steep. Watch your footing.”
He took a step toward the thick brush, but D’s voice stopped him.
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell us who you are.”
Paulo turned, his expression shining with impatience. “Jesus, Pratt, do you have a fucking death wish? I’m trying to help you.”
“Why?” D growled. “Who do you work for?”
“Who do you think?” the man shot back. “Who else would send me undercover to infiltrate a human-trafficking ring?”
D eyed the other man for a moment. “The Feds? You’re a fucking Fed?”
“Ding, ding, ding. Give the man a prize.” Paulo looked disgusted. “Can we please go now?”
“Not until I call my people.”
“You’ll make your call when we get to the mainland.”
D crossed his arms.
“For Christ’s sake, we’re on borrowed time here, you stubborn fool.” Paulo shoved aside a low-hanging vine with the barrel of his gun. “You know what? I don’t give a shit. Stay here, for all I care. I, on the other hand, am getting the hell off this island.”
Sofia’s jaw dropped as the man disappeared through the thick vegetation.
“Derek,” she pleaded. “He has a boat. We need him.”
D dragged a hand over his scalp, then muttered an expletive. “I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I, but we’re all out of options. The marina is guarded like a fortress. We’ll never make it to a boat without getting killed. Same goes for the airfield. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood to die tonight.”
His reluctance was obvious, digging a line into his forehead.
“He’s just one man, D. You can take him.” She spoke in a ruthless tone she’d never heard herself use before. “Use him to get to the mainland and then take him out. Slit his throat. I don’t fucking care what you do to him, okay? I just want to go home!”
Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and it was that desperate wobble that spurred D to action. With a nod, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward him, pressing his lips to hers for one brief moment.
Then he twined their fingers together and the two of them raced after Paulo.
• • •
Liam had known that Morgan was sending backup his and Ash’s way, but he hadn’t expected the frickin’ A-Team to show up. He’d figured the boss would dispatch Castle or a few of the other contractors.
Yet here they were, the most highly trained soldiers on the team, hauling their gear into the small apartment and slapping Ash on the back as they trudged inside.
Luke was grinning from ear to ear as he glanced around the living room. “The OGs, back together!”
Next to him, Kane offered a dry smile. “OGs?”
“Original gangstas, dude.” Luke beamed. “It’s been fucking ages since we were all on the same rotation.”
Trevor and Ethan rounded out the small group, and Liam couldn’t deny he was happy to see them. He’d worked with these men enough times to trust them implicitly. Between the six of them, he was confident they could save D from whatever torture Mendez had chosen for him.
Between the seven of you, a voice in his head corrected.
The reminder made him gulp. Right. With Sullivan, they were a group of seven. Except Sullivan was out of commission at the moment, sedated in the guest room after he’d murdered their fuckin’ hostage.
“Where’s Sully?” Trevor asked, his dark eyes searching the room.
“He’s in the bedroom,” Ash answered. “We, uh, had to sedate him.”
The four newcomers wore identical frowns. “What the hell for?” Kane demanded.
“Is he all right?” Ethan said warily.
Liam and Ash exchanged a look.
“He . . .” Liam trailed off.
Fuck, he didn’t want to tell them. It was ripping him up inside, knowing what Sullivan had gone through. Not just knowing, but seeing. Seeing his friend fly into a blind rage, then break down as he begged and pleaded for a fix.
“He’s got a little problem,” Ash finally admitted.
The others didn’t appreciate the vague response.
“What kind of problem?” Kane sounded annoyed.
“Just a . . .” Ash stopped, then mumbled under his breath. “A heroin problem.”
Shocked silence greeted Liam’s ears.
“I’m sorry.” Luke blinked. “Did you just say heroin problem?”
Ash nodded, his voice taking on an awkward note. “And, uh, a murder problem.”
More silence.
“I’m sorry.” Trevor’s brows were drawn tight as he echoed Luke. “Did you say murder problem?”
Liam fought a groan of irritation and joined the conversation. “Yes,” he said tersely. “He’s fucked up, all right? He strangled our hostage to death and he’s going through heroin withdrawal.”
Four stricken faces stared back at him.
“Shit,” Kane muttered.
“Those fuckers got him addicted to smack?” Luke burst out.
Liam gave a tired nod.
“What’s the sitrep on D?” Trevor asked, looking incredibly upset.
“No word from him,” Ash said grimly. “A bird took him and Sofia to Isla del Rey this morning, and we haven’t heard from them since.”
Ethan spoke up, his voice uneasy. “How did Sofia get caught up in all this?”
“She showed up in Costa Rica, demanding to talk to D,” Ash replied. “Noelle ordered me to escort her here.”
“Why would Noelle do that?”
Luke snorted. “Are we really going to waste our time analyzing Noelle’s motives? Because that’s an entire semester of grad school right there.”
“What about the hostage?” Ethan asked. “Where’s the body?”
“Master bedroom,” Ash told him. “We still need to take care of that.”
Luke was quick to volunteer. “On it.” He grinned at Kane. “What do you say, OG? Wanna dump a body with me?”
Kane rolled his eyes. “Were you always this annoying?”
“Yup.”
Trevor spoke in a brisk voice. “Morgan wants me to take lead on this one, so here’s what’s going to happen.” He looked at Luke and Kane. “You two are on cleanup. Ethan, check in with Morgan. Tell him about Sullivan’s, uh, issues. Ash—”
“I’m going to check on Sully,” Liam blurted out.
The abrupt exclamation raised every eyebrow in the room, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand around, talking and making plans, when his best friend was lying there unconscious in the other room.
“Macgregor,” Trevor called as Liam marched toward the back hall, “we need to formulate an extraction plan—”
“You guys figure it out,” he muttered without changing course. “Fill me in after.”
He stumbled into the corridor, where he stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall and sucking in a ragged breath. He knew he should be focusing on rescuing D, but he couldn’t. Not right now. Not when D wasn’t the only one who needed rescuing.
Sullivan was still out cold when Liam entered the room. He closed the door behind him, then approached the bed the way one would approach someone on their deathbed. His chest ached. His heart ached.
The man on the bed looked like his best friend, but it wasn’t, damn it. Sullivan Port didn’t beg or scream in desperation. Sullivan Port didn’t offer to suck someone’s cock for smack. Sullivan Port didn’t strangle unarmed women.
“What the hell did they do to you?” Liam mumbled.
Sully didn’t move. Didn’t open his eyes.
Liam wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Eventually he’d need to start asking the hard questions and find out what Sullivan had endured on the island so that Liam could determine how to help him. But right now, Sully needed time. And rest.
Fuck, he needed rest. Liam hadn’t slept since he and D had
brought Angelina to this safe house. It felt like someone had shoved grains of sand in his eyes, and his temples were throbbing, sending shooting pains through his skull.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then let out a heavy breath and moved closer to the bed. He swept his gaze over the chiseled planes of Sully’s face. The curve of his bottom lip, the dark blond beard shadowing his square jaw.
After a moment of hesitation, he sat on the edge of the mattress and ran his fingertips over Sully’s thick beard growth, stroking gently as he watched the soft rise and fall of his friend’s chest.
When he heard footsteps, he snatched his hand back as if he’d touched a hot stove, twisting toward the door just as Trevor appeared.
“How’s he doing?” the team leader asked.
Liam answered in an absent voice. “Good, I guess.” Yeah, right. Sullivan was not good. He was the farthest thing from good.
There was a moment of silence.
He reluctantly tore his gaze off Sully, and was uncomfortable to find that Trevor’s expression had softened, almost to the point of tenderness.
“You know what?” Trevor said slowly. “Don’t worry about the extraction, all right? Just stay here with Sullivan, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
Embarrassment heated his face. Fuck. Trevor had obviously glimpsed something Liam hadn’t wanted him to see.
“Maybe you should get some sleep, too.” Trevor cleared his throat. “You look like shit, Boston.” With that, he backed out the door, then closed it.
Liam could still feel his cheeks scorching. Damn it. First Ash, hearing Sully’s reference to what had happened in Dublin. And now Trevor, finding Liam at Sully’s bedside like a tormented lover.
Fuckin’ hell.
He shifted his attention back to Sully. Then he sighed. Screw it. He did need to sleep. He just needed to close his eyes and shut out the world and pretend that his friendship with Sullivan Port hadn’t turned into the most complicated clusterfuck of his life.
• • •
Marina was too generous a description for the place to which Paulo steered the speedboat twenty-five minutes after their escape from Isla del Rey. D’s instincts hummed unhappily as the man who’d killed Mendez eased on the throttle and slowly guided the boat toward a small inlet, where a rickety wooden dock offered only a handful of boat slips. Beyond the dock was a gravel parking lot shrouded in darkness, and a ramshackle log hut with a weathered sign that advertised boat rentals.
