Deceive Her With Desire (16 page)

Mark lunged for Jameson, but one backhanded swipe of the thug’s beefy hand and he was sent sprawling backwards.

“Get this man out of my sight,” Jameson said. “He’s ruining my appetite. We’ll deal with him tonight.” Jameson picked up his fork. “And since Deirdre’s decided not to eat, escort her upstairs as well. Lock them in separate bedrooms. We don’t need to have them chatting.”

* * * *

Adrenaline coursed through Ayden’s veins, heightening all of his senses.

Jameson had changed everything this morning. The shipment was coming in tonight, two days ahead of schedule. But Ayden had anticipated the possibility and had his men ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Now they were driving to the mansion. Ryan sat in the front seat of the Jag, a calm façade pulled tight over taut muscles. Only the slow tap of his fingers on his knee gave any indication of the tight rein he had on his nerves. Ayden hoped he’d picked the right guy. Dave had been a little too cocky earlier in the afternoon at the final run through. He liked his guys sitting on the razor edge of control
It
kept them from making mistakes.

The headlights of the Jag cut a large swath through the gloom of the pine trees lining the deserted road.

Ayden checked his wire by running each team through their paces. One group of men was positioned to stop any plane that landed at the Wesley airstrip. He had a second team sitting on a Coast Guard cutter, out of visual range of Jameson’s estate. But the bulk of manpower, the other ten guys, was poised to move on the mansion and bring down everyone there, right after Harriman made the bogus money transfer. That’s where Ayden would be, right next to Jameson, putting the cuffs on the fucking asshole himself.

Revenge was in his grasp. Nothing would go wrong this night.

When it was finished, with Jameson in police custody and the drug shipment in DEA hands, he’d head straight over to Delmont and Deirdre’s arms.

He loved her. Ayden had come to that conclusion over the last two days. Though their relationship had been forged by adversity, he had no doubt everything he felt for her was real.
Very real.
He wanted to make a life with Deirdre away from the lonely streets of Boston. The DEA had offices here in Maine. A desk job would suit him just fine. A husband and father couldn’t be taking chances with his life. And that’s what he intended to be.

And damn he missed her.

Ayden hadn’t seen Deirdre since the early morning hours of yesterday. They’d agreed not to talk until Sunday, but he’d called her yesterday morning under the pretense of asking about her father. She’d been so nervous working at the estate and talking to him that she’d all but hung up on him. It had left him smiling all day even as he ran through the final preparations. With the new time table he hadn’t had time to even send a text today.

He’d surreptitiously looked for her truck at the mansion this morning, relieved when he hadn’t seen it on the grounds. She’d undoubtedly found an excuse to put off the rest of Jameson’s landscaping job. Hopefully nothing was wrong with her father and she was tucked safely away in Delmont with her family.

Either way, she wasn’t anywhere near Jameson and that made his job a hell of a lot easier.

* * * *

Deirdre didn’t need to see the gun to know there was one trained on her. She felt it as intimately as Jameson’s fingers sliding up and down the inside of her thigh.

Mark sat across from them in the limousine. His battered body slumped away from the muscled man leering at his boss’s hand. Mark’s breaths were shallow, but steady. She thought probably he’d passed out again from the pain. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness since they were reunited an hour earlier. What Mark had done was
unconscionable,
selling drugs to the very teens he’d worked so hard in the past to save. It didn’t seem possible. But then, who knew how desperate a person could become in the name of love?

Deirdre wondered why Jameson had even brought him. It hardly seemed possible that this broken man would be worth anything to Ayden in Jameson’s eyes.

Ayden.
Jameson was setting him up. It would be a replay of Miami all over again with Deirdre front and center, playing the lead role in the death scene. She prayed that
this
time the drug Lord wouldn’t win.

The limo stopped. They’d left the mansion less than fifteen minutes ago. They must still be on the property, but the tinted windows made it difficult to see anything outside the vehicle.

“Do stay here, love.” Jameson dug his nails into her thigh. She bit her cheek, refusing to acknowledge the pain.
“Ah, Deirdre, such a strong woman.
If only you’d chosen me instead of Scott, things would have turned out so differently for you.” He pinched her chin painfully, turning her to stare at his contemptible expression. “But sometimes sacrifices have to be made.” He leaned over and kissed her on the month, grinding her lips against her teeth. “Do be a good little woman and keep your mouth shut or I
will
have to kill you.”

His smile was venomous when he pulled away. “Anthony, duct tape her mouth. I want you to keep them quiet until I need you.” The man climbed out of the limo. The snick of the locks followed his shadow into the darkness.

* * * *

“You understand we can’t be too cautious, Austin.”

Jameson’s man tore open his shirt. He’d expected it. There was no visible wire, it was in his watch. The Jag was parked next to the scrub brush, the GPS in its chassis telegraphing their position. Ayden could see the lights of the mansion far up on the hill. He’d guessed right. They were coming in via the ocean. The sliver of moon hanging in the starry sky did nothing to illuminate their surroundings which helped to hide his men on the beach.

“He’s clean. This is his only gun.” The hulk of a man walked over to Jameson, waving his regulation
Glock
.

It wasn’t his only weapon. Only a fool would come armed with only one gun. There was a second one in the small of his back, but the bulk of the regulation shoulder holster had kept the thug from finding it.

“I don’t see any containers,” Ayden said. “Are you trying to pull something over on me? Is there a shipment coming in or not? We had a deal. You promised thirty kilos tonight. I have men ready to accept delivery.”

“My, you are an impatient one, aren’t you, Schaeffer?”

Ayden heard the low rumble of vehicles approaching from the beach.

Jameson looked over the shoulder of his man clicking the keys of the laptop propped on the hood of the limo. The evil squint of Jameson’s eyes was made more ominous by the blue glow of the screen.

“Right on time.”
Jameson said, turning back to Ayden. “Don’t look so confused, Schaeffer.
Amphibious assault vehicles.
I have men on the beach erasing evidence of their arrival as we speak.” With an absent wave of his hand, Jameson motioned to the computer. “Now, if you don’t mind, those account numbers, please.” He turned to the driver of the limousine, “Please tell Anthony we’re ready.”

The mountain man moved to the door of the limo. Ayden felt Ryan tense next to him. They were already visibly outnumbered. Despite his additional men, Ayden didn’t need more gun power to deal with. “Hold it right there. I don’t know what you’re playing at Jameson. No one moves, and no money changes hands until I see my merchandise.”

“Oh, but I think you’ll like this little surprise I have for you.”

The driver opened the backdoor, Jameson’s bald henchman climbed out. Without any effort, he reached back and hauled a struggling woman from the car.

“Schaeffer, you remember my landscaper, Deirdre.”

What the hell was going on?
At the sound of Deirdre’s muffled protests, Ayden lost focus and grabbed his weapon, aiming it at Jameson. The night filled with the rolling clicks of guns being cocked. In the blink of an eye, Jameson pulled Deirdre from his body guard’s grip, positioning her in front of his body, his gun pressed against her temple.

Deirdre’s eyes were wild, her fear as palpable as the rapid hammer of Ayden’s heart against his ribs. How the hell had he let this happen? She was supposed to be home in Delmont surrounded by her family, not a whisper away from death at the hands of a madman. Ayden’s stomach rolled, and he worked to swallow the panic leaping into his throat with his heart.

He thought he’d had every contingency covered—but not this one.

“An unfortunate standoff, wouldn’t you say?” Jameson ran his tongue up Deirdre’s cheek.
“Umm, good enough to eat.
But you already know that don’t you, Schaeffer? Or should I call you by your real name, Ayden Scott?”

Ayden didn’t know if the rumble in his ears was from the approaching vehicles or the blood pounding.

“It’s been a while.” Jameson’s cackle rolled through Ayden’s clenched gut. “You almost had me in Miami, Scott.
Almost.
But just like then, I’m going to disappear tonight, and you’ll be left with nothing but another body. Even the DEA won’t take you back this time, Scott.” He rubbed his face through Deirdre’s hair.

Deirdre struggled in Jameson’s arms.

“She’s a feisty one, Scott. I must admit, I had hoped she would have chosen me over you. Things would certainly have turned out differently for her.” Jameson leaned into her ear. “Did he tell you when he was fucking you that the two of us go way back to a little airstrip in Miami?”

Ayden watched Jameson palm Deirdre’s breast as rage replaced the panic. “Shut up, Jameson,
it’s
over. There’s no way in hell you’re getting away this time.”

The rumble of motors filtered through Ayden’s haze of disbelief. He couldn’t shoot Jameson without harming Deirdre, but if he didn’t do something, she’d be dead, anyway.

“I’ll tell you what Scott. How about you give my man those account numbers and we’ll exchange Deirdre for the money.”

“Fair enough.”
The accounts were bogus, but they wouldn’t know money hadn’t really transferred until Deirdre was safely
back
in Ayden’s arms. He nodded to Ryan who began rattling off numbers to the guy at the laptop.

“Of course shooting Deirdre wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as plunging the needle into your brother’s arm.” Evil marched across his face as a knowing smile turned his expression into one of sick triumph.

“You didn’t know that part did you, Scott?” The evil riding on his words brought bile to Ayden’s throat. “One of my men infiltrated your little undercover operation.
Became real good friends with your brother.
The kid wasn’t addicted to heroin until I got a hold of him. Oh, you would have been so proud of your baby brother, Ayden. What was his name? Thomas? After I forced him to feed you the fictitious drop information, and he knew his life was over, he kept insisting you’d find me. Even as the heroin coursed through him, sucking the life from him, he talked about his big brother—the DEA’s rising star.”

The darkness faded away, and Ayden saw only red. There was no way in hell the bastard was getting away a second time. But with Deirdre complicating the situation, his well laid plans had been shot to hell.

He would give anything, including his own life, to get her out of Jameson’s grasp.

“I’m here, Jameson. You need any help?’ The man Ayden had seen Deirdre with on Saturday materialized out of the shadows, no doubt coming from the amphibious vehicles. The guy aimed his gun at Ayden’s head.

“Emilio, right on time,” Jameson said before turning to the computer goon.
“We good?”

The man nodded and closed the laptop.

“Now, I think we’ll just climb right back in the limo and follow my shipment.” Jameson began dragging Deirdre to the limo. “Oh, and I lied. I’ll take Deirdre with me. I’m not sure I’m finished with her yet.” He spoke to Emilio, tilting his head toward Ayden and Ryan. “You stay here with Anthony and take care of this garbage. Dump it all in the ocean. There’ll be nothing left of their bodies after the fish have had their fill. Be sure to ditch the Jag as well. Meet us back up at the estate”

“Sounds like a plan, sir.” Emilio said loudly.

Without warning, the limo door swung open, shoving Anthony backwards and pulling Jameson’s attention away from Ayden. The limo window shattered as Anthony’s gun discharged, starting off a volley of shots.

Ayden pulled off two rounds before hitting the ground in a somersault. He came up to a crouch, hot pain searing across his left shoulder as the driver came around the back of the limo and got off a shot. Ayden took him down with a bullet to his head.

His men had come out of the woods on his signal, the firefight continuing as Ayden leaped over the trunk of the limo. Acid burned his gut, cold bands of panic squeezing the air from his lungs.
He hadn’t seen Deirdre since shots began.

 
Gun raised, Ayden came down hard on the ground on the other side of the limo. Emilio stood over Mark, but Ayden pushed past him and over Anthony’s body. Blood ran from the big man’s neck where Emilio’s bullet had penetrated. This thing was a mess.
A goddamn mess.

“Deirdre, where the hell is Deirdre?”
The night had gone deathly still.

Jameson lay face down. The back of his head was missing where Ayden’s bullet had exited.