by Diana Gardin
Jeremy puts a hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me. But I can’t be calmed. Not until Olive is beside me again.
“When he finally gets to wherever he’s going, Sayward will find all the information on the location that she can. We’ll scout from the outside, figure out the best way to enter. We’re also going to need to assess how many people are inside, both innocent and enemy.”
I’m already shaking my head. “You don’t understand. These people, they’re the worst kind. Didn’t you hear what I found out tonight?”
Jacob gives me a look that’s somehow empathetic and scathing. “Why didn’t we know that you’d been investigating your wife’s murder?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Why did you think I was investigating anything?”
His lip quirks. “Because I know you, son. We all do. Sayward looked up that line that tipped you off, ‘Dead Girls Don’t Talk.’ She connected it to the other case that the police are currently investigating. They told you about the new case, didn’t they?”
Jeremy stiffens beside me. “How long?”
I push away from the table and stand. “None of you can possibly understand this.” I look at each one of them in turn. “Have any of you ever been married, and then that person was murdered while you were too far away to do anything about it? Have you?”
Dare’s voice is quiet. “No. But we’re your brothers, Swagger. We have your back no matter what. We’d be there, for whatever you needed.”
I turn to look at Jeremy, because I know he’s probably the most hurt by my omission. “I didn’t want to drag you into it. I needed to see this through on my own.”
He stares me down for a minute, and then he lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t fault you, Swagger. I don’t know what you went through. When I thought I might lose Rayne and Deck, I about lost my shit. You actually did lose someone. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I’d been given the opportunity to find a killer.”
The rest of the room murmurs their agreement, and finally, Jacob nods.
I take a deep breath.
“Oh,” mutters Sayward. “Here we go.”
The blipping dot on her screen has stopped moving. Her fingers fly over the keys as she searches for the location.
I slam a palm down on the table. My patience has run out. Olive is out there…alone with these bastards. “These people are basically the goddamn mob. Organized crime, keeping it in the family. The patriarch? He murders women who he thinks are screwing with his business. You heard that, right? It happened to Elle. There’s no fucking way I’ll let it happen to Olive.”
“I’ve got explosives.”
Everyone in the room turns toward the sound of Bennett’s voice.
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “In my bag. It’s kind of what I do…blowing shit up is my specialty. So it’s a way in, and it gives us the element of surprise. I should be able to get you in there, and Ronin can make sure he gets Olive out.”
Grisham steps forward, his face contorted into amused disgust. “So, let me get this straight. You want us to blast our way into a cold location, without knowing what’s waiting on the other side?”
Bennett meets his gaze head-on. “Yep.”
Grisham turns to Jacob. “This dude is crazy.”
I stand up beside Bennett, hope and determination mixing inside of me. “Crazy might be what saves Olive’s life.”
29
Olive
I hardly know how it happened.
One minute, I was climbing out of Rayne’s SUV and had taken one step toward The Oakes’ front door. And the next minute, I was startled by the sound of screeching tires and I was being dragged into another car that was sweeping out of the parking lot.
Gasping to catch my breath, I look at the two large men sitting on either side of me. “What is this?”
Neither of them acknowledge me, but the driver of the car glances in the rearview mirror.
May panic rises up in my throat, but I swallow it down and raise my voice.
“Hey!” I glare at him. “Who are you people? This is kidnapping!”
He looks back at the road, like I’ve said nothing at all.
Assessing my situation, trying to think around the fearful chaos exploding in my head, I fidget, testing how securely the men beside me will hold me. Can I fight?
“Don’t.” The man driving the car speaks. He has a northern accent, maybe New York or New Jersey, and he shakes his head when his eyes meet mine in the mirror again. “We have instructions. We’re supposed to kill you only if you become a problem.”
My blood chills, and I look down at my hands. Taking a deep breath, I hold my head high again and look out the windows. But it’s nighttime, and the dark tint keeps me from being able to see my surroundings. I have no idea where we’re going, and that scares me most. I left my phone and my purse in Rayne’s car.
I’ve been scared before. Hell, there was a time in my life where fear ruled my days and nights until it was all I could think about. It changed me, ruined me. With a deep breath, I realize that even though I can’t control this situation, I can control my reaction to it.
And I refuse to let anyone make me live in fear again.
“Who am I going to see at the end of this little trip?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel on the inside. “M.J.?”
A snort comes from the man beside me, and I jump because it startles me.
Turning to him with my eyes narrowed, I take him in. Tall, dark features, extremely built beneath his bulky coat and black jeans. Basically, I have no chance of overpowering him, and I’m not stupid enough to try.
“What?” I ask.
“Mick’s the reason you’re coming with us. He’s not smart enough to do what needs to be done, so he’ll learn.”
Oh, no. If I’m not dealing with M.J. when this ride is over, that means…
Panic flares bright and hot. “No!” I lunge for the door handle, encountering a solid wall of muscle before I can move barely an inch. “Let me out!”
The driver chuckles. “Sit tight, sweetheart. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Slumping back against the seat, I try to think of a way out of this. But I know there isn’t one.
When the vehicle rolls to a stop, I’m pulled from the backseat and led into the dark. We’re parked in front of some sort of distribution center. If my biggest fears are true, and I’m dealing with Wilmington’s resident crime family, then this building probably houses holdings for one of the many Margiano businesses. I’m led inside, and after the darkness of the night, the bright fluorescent lighting hurts my eyes.
My three bulky captors and I walk through a warehouse space filled with brown cardboard boxes, stacked in columns on the concrete floor and layered two stories high on metal shelving units. Glancing around me, I can’t tell what’s in the boxes and I know it doesn’t matter.
They lead me to the back of the building, where a long table and benches are set up behind a partition. It looks like a break area for workers, but I haven’t seen any workers yet. Maybe it’s the time of night, but more likely is that the head of the Margiano crime family wanted the place to himself tonight.
Shuddering, I try not to wonder why he wants an audience with me. Not knowing is probably better.
But in reality, I’m about to find out very soon what he wants, and I already know it’s not going to be good.
“Sit,” one of the men says, pushing my shoulder down onto the end of a bench. Wincing in pain, I comply, sitting up straight and folding my hands on the table in front of me. Every single muscle I have is tensed and coiled, ready for fight or flight. Whichever one will serve me best at any given moment.
Two of the men walk away, leaving me with one eagle-eyed guard standing against a shelf a few feet away. He doesn’t look at me, instead keeping his eyes trained at a point behind my shoulder. He seems bored with the whole situation, like this is just another night for him. When for me, my whole world has just been turned upside
down.
I close my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. I was seconds away from being in Ronin’s arms. At the thought, my eyes fly back open again.
Ronin! They wouldn’t have hurt him, would they?
Of course they would have. But Ronin was safe inside the bar. I saw his car when I pulled up. He has to be okay.
And if he’s okay, that means Jeremy and Rayne are going to tell him that I left their house, and he’ll be looking for me.
The thought sends warmth running through my veins and straight to my heart. If the NES knows I’m missing, then I probably won’t be missing for long.
But, if Albert Margiano’s message is short and sweet, the fact that the special ops team is searching for me won’t matter at all.
The man against the wall suddenly stands a little bit taller, and the air around me practically sizzles with tension.
“It’s been a long time, Miss Alexander.”
Albert Margiano himself walks into my line of vision and perches on the bench across from me. He has to fold his tall, lean body nearly in half to fit, but once he’s sitting he appears completely at ease. Fit for a man I imagine must be in his sixties by now, his lined face is actually pretty handsome. He carries himself like a man with power, and platinum sparkles in his ear, on his wrist, and against several fingers.
I assess him, working hard to conceal my fear, swallowing around the enormous lump that’s formed in my throat.
The first time I met him was in college when M.J. and I were dating. M.J. had said that his uncle insisted on meeting the girl he chose to spend so much time around, and not knowing exactly who his uncle was, I’d agreed. He was an imposing figure then, and now that I know so much more about him, he’s absolutely terrifying.
“It has.” I remain reserved, cautious. “You could have just asked to see me.”
His expression turns amused. “Oh? And you would have obliged?”
I don’t answer, and he chuckles. “I didn’t think so.”
“What do you want? Is this about the money that M.J. used to pay for my tuition all those years ago? Because I’ll gladly pay that back. We haven’t been in touch for years, or I would have already.”
Margiano waves a hand. “This isn’t about money. Although I realize you’ve made quite a name for yourself with your career in design. It’s about something much more important.”
I stare at him. “What’s more important to you than money?”
His mouth curves into a grin. The sight of it clamps an icy fist of fear around my heart.
“Power. And to remain powerful, every king needs an heir. An heir that places ambition and business above all else. My heir is currently too wrapped up in a woman who doesn’t want him. A woman who gave his name to the police after he stupidly left her flowers.”
I inhale and let the breath out slowly. Focusing on my breaths is difficult, but I try it again. Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Finally, I speak, but my voice is thin, like the air on a mountaintop. “Please. Let me go home.”
Margiano leans forward, his dark eyes now cold and calculating. There’s not a trace of amusement left. The lines of his face that can turn his expression into a smile are now almost cruel. There’s a reason this man is feared by the darkest, filthiest people in the city.
“I can’t do that.” The words are like napalm, inciting my heartbeat to catch fire.
“Yes, you can, Uncle.” M.J. strolls onto the scene, his tone calm but his eyes angry. “Olive isn’t yours to command. She belongs to me.”
30
Olive
“I don’t belong to anyone.” I can’t help the words. I tried to keep them in, but they flew out of my mouth anyway. “Just let me pay you the money I owe and let me go. I’ll recant my statement about the flowers…tell them I was wrong.”
M.J. doesn’t look at me. Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on his uncle. “This isn’t about money or the cops, baby. And you don’t owe me anything but a chance to show you that you belong with me.”
I bite my lip. “Look, M.J.…”
Albert Margiano gestures in my direction, leaning back on the bench and staring his nephew down. “You see? She doesn’t want you.”
Anger chases hurt across M.J.’s expression. “You don’t know what she wants. And this is between me and her. She’s not like the others, Uncle.”
Albert sighs, dropping his head as if he’s exhausted. After a moment, he picks it up again and stands. Crossing to where M.J. stands, he places both hands on his nephew’s shoulders and looks deep into his eyes. “She’s a woman. She can’t be trusted. All this time, you’ve been fixated on a woman. It’s weak, M.J. I’ve shown you time and time again that they can’t be trusted. They’re not equals, they’re playthings. You’re stronger than this. I trust you to be smarter than this. You are not a child anymore, Mick.”
M.J. snorts. “Then you should stop treating me like one. Let me have more responsibility. Take a backseat.”
Albert tilts his head to the side. “If you truly want that, if you think you’re ready, then you need to prove it to me.”
M.J.’s eyebrows lift. “I haven’t been proving myself to you for years? I even moved back north for a few years, smoothing things over between our business partners.”
Albert withdraws his hands and walks a few paces away before turning to face his nephew. “Yes, and you did a good job. When you returned, you added another business to our holdings with the bar, and that was also a gain. I am proud of you. But this?”
He gestures toward me with a frown. “Is a problem.”
M.J.’s eyes flash. “Uncle—”
“Kill her.”
M.J. stops talking, and silence stretches across the room. I’ve been staring between them, my gaze bouncing back and forth like a pinball. But at Margiano’s last words, I freeze. Even my muscles, flexing to flee this situation, are shocked into stillness.
My eyes land on Mick’s, whose gaze is locked on his uncle’s.
“That’s not going to happen.”
Margiano’s calculating stare doesn’t falter, but he shrugs as if he’s carefree. “Then I’ll have to do it for you.”
M.J. scoffs at this, throwing a hand up flippantly. “You don’t do your own dirty work.”
Margiano moves faster than I’d expect him to be able to, getting in Mick’s face. “You think that’s because I can’t? Kid, I’ve been doing dirty work since before you were even a thought in someone’s mind. If I don’t do ‘dirty work,’ it’s because I’ve earned the right not to. You have not yet earned that right. And if you cannot do this task, I will do it for you, just like I tried to do when I planned her assassination on the bridge. One way or another, this bitch is going to die. And we’ll pin it on Shaw. That fucker’s been looking for his wife’s killer for years, and I want him off my back for good. Two birds…one big, effective stone. ”
M.J. seems to sag. He glances at me, meeting my gaze for the first time. For a second, I can see the boy that I used to glimpse back when we were together all those years ago. Sometimes he could be sweet, attentive, and caring. Those times were few and far between. But I can see that boy there now.
The pain is his eyes is evident, but in that instant I know that his hands are tied.
There’s nothing that M.J. can do for me now, as much as he wants to.
“Fine.” Tearing his gaze away from mine, he straightens and his expression goes dead. The sight of the light leaving his eyes scares me more than anything else has tonight.
Because it means the timer I’ve been counting on since three men grabbed me in The Oakes parking lot has just run out.
M.J.’s words hold no emotion. “I’ll do it.”
31
Ronin
Six pairs of eyes scan the low-slung warehouse building Brains’s tracking device drew us to. Sayward remained behind at the office, but the rest of my team is with me on this, even the Boss Man.
“On
e level, two entrances,” Grisham muses, his arms folded across his chest. He bounces on his feet, the artificial foot on his left side just as ready for action as the right. Even a roadside bomb couldn’t take Grisham Abbot out. “What do you have to help us track heat signatures, Brains?”
Jeremy kneels down beside the XXL Suburban, an NES official vehicle, digging through his bag of tricks. Bennett keeps his duffle close to his side, ready to move at a word.
“Thermal-imaging camera.” He holds the device up, but to me it just looks like a regular fucking digital camera. “Be right back. Can I get a hand, Wheels?”
Dare nods, and the two job off to make a lap around the building.
While we wait, I pace. “Boss Man, I gotta get in there. I can stand around like this. Time is running out for Olive.”
My voice breaks on the last words, and I swallow thickly to dissolve the emotion. I don’t get emotional on missions. I need to keep my head on straight, keep my mind on the op and the op alone.
Otherwise, I’ll fuck this up. And that’s not an option.
“I promised her.” The words fall out of my mouth so quietly, but Ghost still glances over at me with a sharp look.
“Promised her what?”
“I promised her I’d keep her safe. That I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.” I stop pacing, and run my hands through my hair.
Ghost is shaking his head, his facial expression pissed. “It’s not your fucking fault she’s in there. You had her covered. Blame the assholes who took her. Blame Margiano. Blame Oakes. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I’m going to kill him.” My tone is even, measured, and deadly serious.
Boss Man interrupts. “You’re not going in there. We won’t let you.”
It takes Wheels and Brains exactly four minutes to round the building and gather imaging data, but it feels like it has taken four hours. When they return, Brains sends the images to Sayward, who can break down the data on her computer.
