A painful groan comes from my left.
Or maybe it was my right.
I can’t tell where the sound is coming from since parts of the building are still falling into pieces. Fire crackles, blazing along the big chunks of rock that used to make this warehouse.
Another groan sounds. This time it’s closer, and I wipe my eyes against my shirt sleeve. I need a break from the smoke and heat for a second.
“Who is it? Guys? Come on, talk to me. I can’t see shit!” A creak comes from above me, and I tilt my chin up to the ceiling to see it caving, splintering as the strength of the drywall gives way. “Fuck,” I curse under my breath, diving as far as I can in front of me, my arm rubbing callously against a jagged piece of debris. My body buzzes with pain as I land on the ground just as the ceiling collapses, sending a ton of smoke and dust in the air.
“Sebastian?” a broken voice comes from besides me, filled with pain and confusion.
“Owen? Owen!” I scramble to my hands and knees and climb over the chunks of cement. I can barely see Owen through the smoke, but he’s moving his head and trying to get to his feet. He has a significant amount of blood dripping from his head, pooling down his neck and staining his shirt.
When I get to him, I wrap an arm around his waist and help him up. “Are you okay? Anything broken?”
“No, my head just fucking hurts. I think you might have been right. I shouldn’t have touched the vault.”
I snort from his attempt of lightening the mood. “No shit? What gave it away?”
“Have you found the others?”
“No, they won’t answer me.”
“Shit,” Owen says the word that has been constantly filtering through my mind since I saw the explosion on camera.
“Sebastian?” the light, airy tone of Heaven carries its way through the smoke. Even in pain the guy sounds happy.
“I’m here. Owen is too,” I inform him. “Talk to us. Where are you? Can’t see anything because of the smoke.”
“I’m against a wall,” he coughs. “My leg hurts really fucking bad, guys. I can’t move it.”
Owen and I find Heaven leaning against the wall. His left leg is pinned between the floor and a chunk of stone. “Go look for the others,” Owen says. “I’m fine. I’ll get Heaven out of here. We need to get out before our cover is blown and this place collapses.”
I nod, forgetting he probably can’t see me because the air is so thick and convoluted. “Okay. You’re sure?”
“Go,” Owen urges as he pushes the chunk of wall off Heaven’s leg.
“Fuck! Warn a guy, Owen! Jesus Christ!” Heaven clutches his injured leg, and as the smoke clears, I see how bloody and burned the limb is.
Damn it, this is bad.
“You’re going to be okay. We are going to get out of here. Everyone is going to be fine.”
“I hope so,” Owen says.
“For once in your fucking life can you be positive? If not, keep your damn mouth shut. Jesus,” Heaven spurts off unexpectedly. It’s so unlike him to be serious and pissed off. He must be in so much pain.
I grind my teeth together and fall to my hands and knees to crawl along the floor. Searching for the rest of the guys this way is easier, just in case I feel their leg or arm with my hand. The debris is hot, my palm burning to a near excruciating pain, but I keep on. It’s shit like this that makes me want to stop doing these jobs. We have money for the rest of our lives; is it worth risking our lives every time?
Jaxon has something worth living for now. He has Quinn. When we all get back to the Cliff House, we need to have a pow wow because jobs like this shouldn’t be on our radar.
My hand lands on a leg, and I fumble my way up, trying to see if I can figure out who it is by their height, but all of us are well over six-feet, so the attempt is pointless. I grab ahold of the man’s face and shake him.
“I’m alive,” Grayson knocks my hand away. “Jesus, stop shaking me. My side is killing me.” His hand falls to the left side of his ribcage, pressing against the wound that oozes blood.
“Oh, fuck, Grayson.” This isn’t good. There is a piece of steel embedded in the space between his ribs and hip. I hover my hand over the metal, debating if I want to pull it free or not. If I do, it could risk Grayson bleeding out.
“That bad?” He lets out a languid chuckle.
“Worse.” I rub my palm over my face and my head swims. I need to get out of here before I pass out. The smoke and heat are getting to me. “Can you walk?”
“I think so. I need help up.”
I act as his crutch, taking most of this weight as I lift him up, using the strength in my legs.
Grayson grouses with pain and right as he stumbles, Owen is there to catch him. “You look like shit,” Owen teases.
“I look better than you,” Grayson jabs, his eyelids heavy with agony. “Have you found anyone else?” He hisses, reminding me of a snake as we walk through the maze of destruction.
“Heaven is in the van. We still need to find Jaxon,” Owen informs.
“He was next to me. When we flew backward in the air, he was right next to me. He must be close. You have to find him, for Quinn.”
“For us too.” I stop when we get to the door and looked over my shoulder to see another piece of the ceiling collapsing in a useless heap. “Can you handle taking him to the van? I need to look for Jaxon.”
“Yeah, I’ll be back in a minute,” Owen says. The big brute tightens his arm around Grayson and opens the door, sending a fresh wave of oxygen. While my lungs appreciate it, the fire inside sucks the air in and uses it as fertilizer to grow the flames. I suck in a fresh breath before the door shuts and run down the hall, back to the promise of death.
“Jaxon?” I roar, and a loose wire from the wall sparks, swinging through the air with dangerous intent.
Silence.
“Jaxon! You son of a bitch! You better fucking answer me. Quinn will kill me if you die.” I don’t want to think about him being dead; it makes my eyes water and right now, I need to retain all the damn moisture I can.
Jaxon was the first man I met in prison who was innocent of a crime he didn’t commit. We shared stories, and he told me his plan when he got out to seek revenge. Somehow, we ended forming a little group of our own, and men like us flocked to be around others who were just me and Jaxon. It was how our misfit band of brothers formed, and since I had no one else on the outside, these men were who I considered family. That might not mean anything to some people, because how could criminals like us know how to love the way a family should?
Fuck those people.
I don’t hold a fraction of the amount of love I have for my own blood brother as I do for these men. These guys would risk their life for me, poor their blood for me, prove their loyalty to me, while Kendrick likes to continuously stab me in the back.
“Jaxon?” I hang my head for a second when the smoke starts to get the best of me. My vision blurs, the fire is hot, and I can’t feel the palm of my hands.
“Sebas-tian.” My name comes from the distance. It is broken, garbled, soft, but I hear it. I could be imagining things, but I don’t think I am. If my brain plays a trick on me, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Jaxon? Call out for me again, okay? I can’t see you.” I push the blown-up bit of marble out of the way, my arm burning from rubbing against a chunk of something earlier. I let out a cry, pushing myself to the absolute limit. I’d die trying to get Jaxon out.
Bang, scratch, bang, scratch.
The sound of rock smashing against the floor, then dragging and smashing again tells me Jaxon is signaling me that way.
Bang, scratch, bang, scratch.
It plays on repeat, and the closer I get to where the noise comes from, the more that evil emotion hope sprawls in my chest.
“I’m coming, Jaxon,” I try to yell, but at this point, my throat is hoarse and raw. I can barely breathe. Every bone, every muscle in my body aches. My nostrils burn and my eyes are so dr
y, when I close them, I can feel the lid scrapping against the cornea.
Bang, scratch, bang, scratch.
Just a few more feet. I am so close. I can’t stop now.
“Jaxon?” There is nowhere else for me to go. It’s a dead end. The only view I have is a pile of marble and drywall.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
Bang, scratch.
Jaxon’s hand peeks from under the rubble. His fingers are bloody as they curve around whatever he holds, trying to slam it against the ground, but his movements are getting weaker.
“Jaxon.” I climb up and down piles of rubble and get as low to the ground as I can to investigate the small hole his hand peeks out of. “Hey, buddy. You with me?”
He coughs, and the rocks on top of him jostle. “Yeah,” he answers with a slight wheeze. He is suffocating under all the wreckage. “I’m here.”
“I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Think of Quinn, Jaxon,” I say. “Think of the life you want to build with her after having so many years ripped away from you.” Reminding him of her is my way at keeping him awake. If he falls asleep… This nagging fear of him not waking up presses against the adrenaline swimming in my veins, helping me toss off the junk weighing against Jaxon.
“He’s under this?” Owen finds me and jumps right in, picking up slabs of marble and throwing it to the side.
I don’t answer because obviously Jaxon is under this or I wouldn’t be pushing myself to the limit to get him out. I lean against the pile and try to breathe, I really do, but smoke wraps its tendrils around my throat and starts to choke me.
With drunken-like moves, my pace slows, and while holding a chunk of marble in my hand, I fall to the ground.
Spent.
Done.
“Hell no,” Owen grips me by the shirt and shakes me. “You don’t get to give up. You don’t get to die. No one fucking dies. I don’t give a shit how far you must dig in that know-it-all head of yours, but you’re going to fucking dig, and don’t you stop, damn it. You can’t fucking stop. We’re running out of time.”
I know what Owen means. We are running out of time before firetrucks arrive and out of oxygen. If we don’t get out soon, we will die. We have minutes, maybe.
Owen slaps me across the face and shakes me, but I barely feel it. I am too tired. “You told Jaxon to think of Quinn. Think of her, Sebastian, think of the woman you promised to save from the hands of your brother. You don’t get to give up. I doubt she has, so you can’t.” Owen smacks me again, and an image of Gabrielle forms in my mind, happy, smiling, hair blowing in the ocean’s breeze as she enjoys the view. She loves the sand between her toes and the waves crashing against her feet.
I can’t miss out on that.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay. Good man,” Owen says, clapping me on the shoulder.
With Gabriella in mind, I shovel my way through the pile to get to Jaxon. Owen works faster than me, slinging rock as if he were the Hulk. He has rage fueling him, which isn’t anything new, but Owen has always been an angry person. Nothing he does to calm down works.
He needs blood, gore, pain, and a good fight. He thrives off it, and right now, I couldn’t be happier that his anger is fueling him like diesel. We finally get to the bottom, and Jaxon isn’t moving.
“Jaxon?” I lay my ear on his chest and hear the slight slow thump of his heart. I glance up at Owen, his brows drawn together in fury. “Get him out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Sebastian—”
“I said go!” my voice echoes off the broken bones of the building.
Owen doesn’t argue. For once in his fucking life, he keeps his mouth shut. He scoops Jaxon into his arms and run out of there, disappearing through the cloud of smoke. I sit back, listening to the fading footsteps of Owen and lean my head against the wall, taking a minute.
I need to close my eyes for a second. That’s all I need.
I don’t get the chance.
“Nope, you don’t get to die on me. Asshole,” Owen grunts as he bends over and swings me over his shoulder. My head spins and my stomach turns from being upside down and not having enough oxygen over the last ten minutes.
The floor bounces as Owen runs, and I shut my eyes for the sake of my health. I’m not feeling too well. Any moment, I'm going to throw up. Owen kicks the door open, and the burst of fresh air has me gasping.
Holy shit, that feels good.
Owen tosses me in the van and places an oxygen mask over my face. We are always prepared in case shit goes south.
Only I never expected for it to go south.
“Hang on to your balls, boys. We are getting out of here,” Owen warns as he puts the van in reverse and backs onto the road. He jerks the wheel and all the injured moan from the sudden movement.
Sirens whirl in the opposite direction, and I breathe a sigh of relief as they get further away. Fuck, that was too close.
“Please tell me you disabled the traffic cameras,” Owen says, jerking the wheel to the left to miss hitting another car. The car honks, and Owen flips them off and rolls down his window. “Fuck you, buddy! I’ve had a bad day.”
“Screw your day!”
Great, just what we need. A fucking pissing match when it comes to road rage.
“Roll up your window, Owen.” My head is feeling better from the constant oxygen seeping into my lungs. “And of course, I disabled the cameras.” I take a break and inhale as deeply as I can. “I’m not a damn amateur.”
“Could have fooled me,” he sneers. “There were bombs in the walls! In. The. Walls. Isn’t it your job to catch it?”
“Yes, but nothing indicted there were bombs. Nothing.”
“Well, do your job better next time,” Owen jabs at the weighted guilt I already feel.
I hope in time the guys will forgive me.
After all, this was my fault, whether I like it or not. If I can’t protect my brothers, then I can’t protect Gabriella.
I refuse to be a man she can’t rely on. She's never had the luxury of being safe, and I’m going to be that for her. I’m going to be who she thought she could never have.
Chapter Four
GABRIELLA
I haven’t been in my room in a week. Kendrick has been keeping me close, doting on me hand and foot. I feel like he is preparing me for something, wanting me at my best, but I can’t figure out what it is.
Kendrick is odd. He isn’t like other men; not sexually, anyway. He is … absent. He will kiss me, try to touch me; he’ll have an erection, but we have never had sex. I am thankful, but whatever his reasoning is, it concerns me. It isn’t normal to be so obsessed with someone and not want to have sex with them.
Small, psychopathic favors, I suppose.
Five years is a long run of luck to be with someone and not have sex. I’m not stupid. I know my luck will run out, but when? Whatever comfort I feel, it is on a ticking clock, slowly counting down until the hands strike Kendrick’s golden hour.
He is abusive, manipulative, arrogant, cunning, and intelligent. Just because someone is abusive doesn’t mean they are dumb. No, people like Kendrick always have a plan, and the plans are always devious, and someone always ends up getting hurt.
It would be me. It will always be me when it comes to him.
And he won’t let me go until he has what he wants from me.
Curiosity killed the cat, but lucky for the cat, it has nine lives. I only have one.
“How are you doing today, my sweet?” Kendrick asks as he brings me a mimosa while I soak in the warm bath.
I don’t know if I want to take it. It is probably drugged, and I want to keep my wits about me. I sink lower into the tub, letting the rose-scented bubbles gather around my neck, and tilt the space under my chin. I cross my arms over my chest to hide the peaks of my breasts and press my thighs together so he can’t get a good look at the space between my legs.
Sure, he has seen everything, but I neve
r want to tempt him.
“Don’t you want it? I ordered the champagne specifically for you,” his voice raises with each word. “If you don’t drink it—”
“Thank you, Kendrick. You are too kind,” I say automatically in a voice I know he will love—small, soft, and without heat. I reach for the glass, and he places the stem of the flute in my hand. I bring it slowly to my mouth, the base of the glass getting bubbles on it since I refused to sit up any further.
The burst of sweet orange juice and the slight bitterness of the champagne slide down my throat deliciously. My jowls water from the citrus bursting across my tongue, and I eagerly take another sip, enjoying the taste so much I nearly forget that Kendrick might have drugged it.
Oh, well.
I’d rather be knocked out for the abuse than awake, to be honest.
“I was thinking,” he says, perching on the side of the tub with his right hip. He skims his fingers along the surface of the water, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to do more. “We could go to the farmer’s market today, you and me. Spend the day outside and enjoy the air, get some of your favorite fruits, meats, and whatever else. Would you like that, my sweet?”
I hate the fluttering I have in my stomach from him being so kind. It reminds me of when we first started dating. I knew it was all a lie, but I craved for his tender moments. They were so few and far between. I know I am mental for wanting his sweetness, for wanting him to love me for me instead of a possession, but that will never happen.
It is why I am in love with Sebastian, a love that can never happen. I do my best to twist and turn the love I have for the better brother, to make myself somehow love Kendrick, but no matter how much I try nothing works.
Kendrick is unlovable, and his sweet demeanor is a lie.
“I would like that very much, Kendrick. Thank you,” I say eagerly. It is a treat to get out of the small mansion. Twice in one week. What a delight.
“You’re welcome. The outfit I want you to wear is on the bed, along with the shoes. Please do not wear any makeup. It makes you look like a whore.”
“Yes, Kendrick.”
Cruel Seduction: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 2) Page 3
