Which meant many of these guards were new enough not to recognize Gunner on sight. Unless Landon had been smart enough to post his picture—all their pictures.
None of that really mattered. They were heavily armed, ready to take back Drea and take down the man, or men, who had hurt them all.
“Company,” Key said softly, and Gunner saw Jem smile and make fists. The man was so ready to take someone—anyone—out, and Gunner motioned to him. “Have at it.”
Jem ran into the crowd of men and threw himself at them like he was a bowling ball and they were the pins. His body actually went sideways and he took down five of the six men, forced the sixth to trip a little.
“So’s that a spare?” Key asked before he dove into the fray. Gunner followed, his AK-47 held out in front of him.
“Gentlemen, let’s talk,” he said, and the big guard he’d beaten down months ago stared at him.
“You—we have orders to bring you in alive. Landon’s going to have fun with you,” he told Gunner, just as Jem came up behind him and put him in a headlock.
“Where’s the woman?” he growled.
“Fuck you,” the guard spat, and then he stopped, because Jem was cutting off his air.
“Jem, hold up,” Gunner said, then spoke directly to the guard, the only one near them who hadn’t been knocked out. “The man you’ve been taking orders from isn’t Drew. You’ve been taking orders from Donal, the man who killed your boss.”
He waited to see if the guard would contradict him, say that both Drew and Donal were working together. Instead, the man looked confused but didn’t say anything.
He had no real reason to believe Gunner, but he pulled out a picture of Donal and Drew and showed it to the man still in the headlock.
One of the guards on the ground had woken up, was listening. He was handcuffed and his ankles were tied, and Gunner showed him the picture too.
“You never wanted to be back,” he sneered. “Now we’re supposed to believe you’ve got Drew’s best interests at heart?”
“I don’t give a shit what you believe, but if Drew’s still alive, I’m betting he won’t be for long.” Gunner dropped the photos on the ground. “This happened about two months ago. Maybe a little bit before. Probably around the time I left to do the last job. Anything strange happen around that time?”
One of the other guards started to speak, but the big one barked at him to shut the fuck up.
Jem knocked out the big one. “Say what you were going to say.”
“Just around the time you left . . . Drew said that we needed to tighten security. That no one was to come on the island unless he gave the okay in person. Didn’t matter who they were. We weren’t even supposed to let boats inside a two-mile perimeter.”
Gunner looked at Jem. “Landon knew Donal was coming for him. Had to be because I came back to work for Drew.”
“Sounds that way.”
“Tie them up good. Give them the shots and let’s go find Dare and Avery,” Gunner said. Jem and Key used the sedatives Drea had prepared. But first, Jem took the guard he’d nearly killed aside and Gunner heard him ask about Drea. Again.
“If you tell me, you can keep your balls.”
“Go ahead and kill me,” the guard said.
“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to castrate you and let you live,” Jem explained patiently. “And I’m not going to use anesthesia. I’ll stitch you up myself to make sure you live, you ball-less fuck.”
The guard went white. “She’s in the tower. Landon wanted us to keep her here. Said her husband would pay good money for her.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No,” the guard said. “Can’t say the same about Landon.”
It was Jem’s turn to go white.
“Take Key and go find her. I’ll go after Avery and Dare,” Gunner told him. As soon as the men were unconscious, they went their separate ways, Gunner praying the entire time that Drea was all right.
• • •
Jem ran the tower steps two at a time. Key went slower behind him, backward, watching their six just in case the other guards were alerted.
If I’m too late . . .
No, he wouldn’t think like that. Never dealt in the negative.
He didn’t want to call out to her and alert any guard who might be with her. Instead, he moved quietly once he got to the last twenty steps. Key did the same.
He peeked into the tower and saw her, sitting so still on a chair in the middle of the circular room.
“Drea, it’s Jem,” he said quietly.
She didn’t move. He held his breath as he walked around her slowly, and when he met her eyes, he saw why she wasn’t moving.
The bomb’s trigger was attached to her chest. If she spoke, even breathed heavily, it would set off the bomb.
“It’s okay, baby—we’re here. Not a problem,” he told her. “You just keep holding it together. Everyone’s okay. And now you are too.”
She stared at him. She looked exhausted, relieved and scared to death all at the same time.
• • •
Avery and Dare took the building while Gunner, Key and Jem subdued the main guards. Dare entered the house first, took down three beefy guards who came at them. He’d used a silencer but they’d kept moving anyway, clearing the first floor.
Avery locked the kitchen staff into a closet after tying them up and taking their phones. They looked scared and might be innocent, but she didn’t trust anyone associated with the Landons.
The second floor was empty. She looked out the window and it was all quiet. Maybe too quiet.
“Clear,” Dare told her, and, weapon drawn, she went up the third flight of stairs. It was deadly quiet up here now that Dare had cut the alarm.
She listened for Dare’s footsteps behind her. He’d been on her six the whole time, but she was alone. She was on the landing of the third floor, was about to turn back to find him when an electrical current tore through her body. She would’ve toppled back down the stairs if Donal Landon hadn’t yanked her forward.
She landed on her side on the hard, cold marble floor, unable to do anything but convulse from the Taser. He was keeping it on her, keeping her helpless, unable to cry out for help or defend herself.
Not again.
When he moved the current from her body, he asked, “Back for more?”
She blinked, stared up at Donal Landon. He held a Taser in one hand and a knife in the other. “Trying again, you chickenshit?” she managed, and he slapped her hard across the face. Her cheek stung, her lip split against her teeth, but she didn’t stop.
She rolled before another slap could come, but he caught her with the Taser and her muscles contracted involuntarily for several long moments as he held her caught in its electrical current. Her only comfort was that he couldn’t do much to her while her body jolted. He could just kill her this way.
Finally, he pulled the current away and her body went slack. She could move, but she’d paid a price from too many of the Taser’s shocks in such a short period of time.
“You’re mine, bitch.”
“You’ve got that backward—you’re my bitch,” she told him before she kicked him hard in the side of the neck. He lost his balance, Taser and knife went flying and she was up and on him in seconds. She wouldn’t waste this opportunity, so she dove on him, scratching and punching, looking to maim, disable . . . and then she would kill him.
They rolled together, her hand on his Adam’s apple, his hand on her wrist, stopping her from crushing his trachea.
“You’ll never be able to forget me,” he croaked.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Donal. As soon as I kill you, you’ll be completely forgotten.”
He smiled quickly to cover his look of surprise at hearing his real name, then kicked. It caught her on the side of her head and she went down, still holding on to him. That put her in the worst position possible—underneath him.
He had the knife above her throat
and she couldn’t move. Fear flooded her and she pushed it back. “What did Drew do to you that made you hate him so much?”
Donal considered that for a long moment, never moving the knife. “He was born with a conscience. I wasn’t. That always seemed to put us on different sides of the fence. Drew always felt too much. His emotions seemed strange to me, and at first, I tried to copy them, but then I gave up. When Father was alive it didn’t matter as much, but once Drew was put in charge, he made it his mission to go after the traffickers.”
“And you didn’t want to.”
“Avery, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Last chance to tell your story.”
“Always the optimist.” The knife’s blade was cold on her skin as he continued. “I wanted to get in with the traffickers. That’s where the real money was. But Drew couldn’t get past what happened to Mother and Julia.”
“And you could?”
“Easily. Father fucked up and we paid the price. End of story. And if Father had simply done what the trafficker had asked—move some of his merchandise to make up for the loss—none of it would’ve happened. Stupid pride, all over people we don’t know, people I certainly don’t give a shit about.”
“Innocent women and children.”
“Nobody’s innocent, Avery. I thought you of all people would understand that. You’re the young one in your family. The one no one told anything to. I was younger by four minutes, but somehow, in this family, that was a lifetime.”
He ripped her shirt open and the look on his face was pure gloat. “It looks perfect. I was hoping you’d have someone decent stitch them up. I tried to be precise in my cuts—I was premed, you know.”
“You’re all asshole. Don’t worry—Gunner will cover those up. His tattoos will be on top of them. He’ll win. He’s always going to win,” she told him.
“That’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know,” she told him, just as Gunner came up behind Donal and grabbed him around the neck, a knife held to his carotid.
“Up, slowly, Donal,” Gunner growled. She swallowed as Donal didn’t move the knife from her throat, not at first, and then he did, dropped it by her side.
As soon as he was halfway off her, she scrambled backward, grabbed the knife and lunged for the Taser too, just in case.
But Gunner had him in a grip. Told her, “You should go.”
“No way. I’m not leaving until he’s dead.”
She met Gunner’s eyes and saw the understanding there, the way she always did.
Chapter Thirty-one
Gunner’s satisfaction in getting Donal before he could do any more damage to Avery was short-lived when several men came up the stairs, all of them holding automatic weapons.
They weren’t Landon’s men, which could be good, or really fucking bad. Gunner backed up with Landon, and Avery went to his side, slightly behind him. “Who the hell are you?” Gunner demanded.
“I’m Juan Carlos,” the man in the expensive-looking suit said. He didn’t have a weapon, but his men did, and they surrounded Gunner and Avery. “We’ve spoken before.”
They had. Juan Carlos was a businessman in Drew’s circles—he wasn’t a trafficker, but Gunner knew he often helped Drew’s clients with their financial needs once they’d successfully been relocated. Gunner had placed many calls to Juan Carlos over the years, although he remained a mysterious figure. “What are you doing here?”
“I haven’t heard from Drew. That is . . . unusual. I grew worried. I see I was right to be.” Juan Carlos was staring hard at Donal now. “My friend, I’ll take care of this.”
Donal nodded, tried to jerk away from Gunner, but Gunner refused to let him go. He told Juan Carlos, “This isn’t Drew.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Donal spat.
Again, Juan Carlos looked hard at Donal. After a pause, he glanced up at Gunner, looking troubled. “And why would I believe you? Aren’t you a disgruntled former employee?” Juan Carlos made a motion and one of his men moved forward, a gun pointed at Avery. “Let him go and she’ll be unharmed.”
Gunner let him go and Donal preened smugly. “Juan Carlos, I apologize. I gave James a chance when I shouldn’t have.”
Gunner stared at Donal for a second, then grabbed the man’s arm. Donal tried to pull back, but Gunner kept the death grip on him, put Landon’s hand over his crotch.
The man hissed and pulled back like a demon that’d been burned with holy water. And Gunner smiled.
“What the hell’s going on, James?” Donal bit out.
“Drew Landon would’ve given his fortune if I’d touched his cock,” Gunner said, and Juan Carlos was studying them intently.
“I’m not gay,” Donal spat out.
“No?” Juan Carlos asked, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, and suddenly the air around them seemed to shift dramatically. Donal remained frozen in place as Juan approached him. He reached up and stroked hair off Donal’s face and Donal moved to rebuff the gentle gesture. “Do you remember the last time I saw you?”
“Yes. We had a meeting in Cairo,” Donal said confidently.
“Yes, a meeting,” he repeated. “And you missed another one—what happened?”
Donal frowned. “There was nothing in the appointment book, Juan Carlos. I’m so sorry—it won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” Juan Carlos had his hand wrapped around Donal’s neck before anyone could blink.
Gunner saw Juan Carlos’s men shift their weapons toward Donal, and Gunner pulled Avery closer to him.
“It was an honest mistake—James has been fucking with my business,” Donal told him.
“The meeting you missed would never have been in any appointment book of Drew’s,” Juan Carlos told him in a fierce voice. “It was a standing appointment. Every three months. And Drew never, ever forgot. Not once in ten years.”
Donal struggled a little, but the bigger man’s grip was tight. Juan Carlos turned to Gunner. “He flirted. I know that. But Drew Landon was mine.”
He turned back to Donal, loosened his grip slightly when he asked, “Where is he?”
“I didn’t know my brother . . . was a fucking faggot,” Donal spat, and in a fast move, he kicked Juan Carlos’s knees out from under him and moved back.
“Don’t shoot him,” Juan Carlos told his men as Gunner advanced on Donal. At that moment, Gunner began to fight like it was for his life. It was for all those times he was made to fight Drew Landon’s guards, all those times he’d been made to do things he hadn’t wanted to. For all those things he’d done willingly too. All his demons were taking themselves out on Donal.
Finally, he pulled back. “Where is Drew?”
Donal laughed, his mouth bloody, teeth broken. “Why? You miss him? Gonna cry at his funeral?”
“I don’t believe he’s dead,” Gunner said through gritted teeth. “You’d have been bragging by now.”
“I don’t remember.” Donal was choking on his own blood. “I do . . . remember . . . killing . . . your . . . bitch. She . . . begged. Called . . . for . . . you.”
Gunner drew his hand that held his weapon back, but Avery caught it, stopped him. “Don’t, Gunner. Please.”
“Let me go, Avery.”
“I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to win this. Please.”
It was her please that got him. He looked up at her. “We can’t let them win. We may hate them, but we can’t let them win by bringing us to their level.”
Gunner looked down at Donal, told him, “You’re useless.” When he pushed up off Donal, he saw Avery staring at Donal. Juan Carlos was staring at her.
“This man hurt you?” Juan Carlos asked her.
“Yes.”
“And you won’t let your boyfriend kill him.”
“We’ve done what we needed to. I won’t put another death on his conscience. I don’t care how justified it is.”
Juan Carlos studied her, and then looked at Gunner. “Drew always liked you. You hav
e to know that.”
“I do,” Gunner said.
“Donal’s the type who would keep Drew alive and suffering,” Juan Carlos said grimly. “Please, go find him. I will deal with this, the way Drew would want me to. I begged him to stop Donal years ago. But he had a soft spot for family.”
“I’m sorry,” Avery told him. Juan Carlos nodded, aimed his weapon at Donal’s head, and Gunner grabbed her hand and headed down the stairs as the first of the shots was fired.
“Any idea where Drew might be? We searched all the floors,” she told Gunner.
“Did you go to the guesthouse?” he asked.
“No. We didn’t see one,” she said. They raced down the stairs, where Dare was on the second floor, just escaping the bindings Juan Carlos and his men no doubt put on him.
“Thank God.” He let Gunner help him out of the last of the cuffs, and then Gunner led them both across the grass toward the guesthouse.
“Where’re Jem and Key?” Dare called.
“Looking for Drea,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ve got this—go help them.”
He watched Dare break away, but Avery remained with him. He slammed into the guesthouse and found it empty on first look. Together, he and Avery searched every inch of the place and found nothing.
As he looked around, his phone beeped. He looked at the text message from Jem.
Place is set to blow. Drea’s the trigger.
“What is it?” Avery asked. He showed her the message and she grimaced. “Can they defuse it?”
“I’m sure they’re trying. The faster we can find Drew, the better. We have to know if he’s still going to be out there after all of this.”
“Where else could he be? Is there a basement, like in Powell’s house?” she asked.
He stopped cold, a sudden memory flashing. “No, there’s no basement. But there’s someplace else. Come on.”
He grabbed her hand, pulled her along the lawn, looking for the small statue that was nothing more than a square monument that listed the name of the house and the date it was built. Innocuous, but in an odd spot. One night, Gunner had figured out why.
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