Would Rip ever admit his fault?
“I was in a bind. S8 was the only thing that could help me. I didn’t think that men would die. I didn’t do that on purpose.
“And then you turned around and broke your promise. I suggested that rule to protect you. If you’d never gone looking for me . . .”
“No one from S8 would’ve died. Beyond the men who’d already died for you,” Darius said through gritted teeth. “You broke the promise long before we did. And what about Grace?”
“She was mine. And no one takes what’s mine.”
“S8 was yours too. So no one takes what’s yours . . . except you.”
“Except me.”
Chapter Thirty-five
T
he ride
through the bayou ba
ck to New Orleans was tense at best, but going during the daylight ensured that Powell’s men couldn’t make any major moves. Jem and Key both knew the bayou roads as well as, if not better than, Dare, and the brothers took them on a wild ride until they ended up in Gunner’s garage.
From there, Gunner guided them into his shop through the panic room. When Grace looked inside, she paused and moved backward quickly into Dare’s chest.
“I can’t,” she told him, and when he looked inside he saw exactly why. For a long moment, they all stood there, and then Jem said, “Can you just go through to the upstairs, Grace? We’ll all be with you.”
“God, I feel stupid,” she said.
“You shouldn’t,” Dare assured her. He took her hand, and Jem led the way in, looking around as if clearing the place. The door at the top creaked open and they could see Gunner at the top of the stairs.
“We’re coming up,” Jem told Gunner, who waved them through.
“Come on, baby—better to get inside fast while we haven’t been spotted,” Dare said, and that was the impetus Grace needed to get moving. Holding tight to his hand, she walked in front of him, almost at a march, with her head held forward. Key was the last in, securing things behind them.
Once they were all on the stairs, Gunner shut the big door leading to the garage. She jumped when it closed with a decisive bang, but she kept going. Finally, they were at the top of the stairs, and she breathed a small sigh of relief as Avery hugged her, and then Dare.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her while her arms were around his neck.
“I know.” She pulled back. “Grace, I’ve got some clothes for you.”
Grace followed Avery up another flight of stairs.
“They okay up there?” Dare asked Gunner, who nodded.
“It’s all bulletproof and tinted windows, but Avery knows not to take too long. We’ll sleep in the panic room, if you think Grace can handle it.”
“She’ll have to,” Dare said. “I’m going to go up and check on them.”
“Don’t blame you.” Gunner went back to scanning the monitors that showed the surrounding streets.
He heard them talking as he went up the stairs. They were talking about Darius, Grace sharing with Avery things she knew about him.
He tended to forget that Avery didn’t know the man she was risking her life for. It couldn’t be easy for her to know that Darius was the one who’d gotten her mother killed and put Avery’s back to the wall.
But Grace . . . she spoke highly of Darius. She was telling Avery how he played the guitar so loud, the neighbors would complain. And that whenever he tried to cook he’d start small fires in the kitchen.
She told Avery that she had his eyes. His smile. His laugh.
To hear Darius talked about in that way, a way he’d never known his father, was cool. Because his dad had always been rough, gruff, no-nonsense. But with Grace, Darius had obviously been different, no doubt treating her as he would’ve treated Avery.
The closest Dare had ever come to seeing his father’s softer side was when he played guitar. Sometimes he’d find the phone next to him while he played his music, and now, listening to Avery talk, he realized what Darius had been doing.
He would call Avery’s mom, not say anything, but rather, just play his guitar so she could hear him over the phone line. An
I’m thinking of you
thing, which was romantic and heartbreaking all at once . . . hell, it made Dare finger the pick around his neck and wonder how much a love like that might’ve changed Darius if he’d let it.
Dare’s whole life might’ve been different, no matter how often Darius told Dare that he’d been born ready for the military. There was truth in that.
Now he stood against the doorjamb, listening to Grace’s memories, watching Avery smile, knowing this was all the calm before the storm.
Avery would take care of Grace, would keep her safe. They would become friends—Dare knew that for certain.
It made the rest of his choices that much easier.
* * *
Jem an
d Gunner cooked, and by midafternoon, they were all eating in the back room with the monitors surrounding them. The mood was surprisingly upbeat, which tended to happen when everyone lived through a mission, no matter what other obstacles abounded. There was laughing and teasing and plenty of food to satisfy them.
Even Grace smiled a few times, seemed to feel as if the group trusted her.
Dare was as worried as hell about her. Held her hand under the table. Wanted to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay.
Wanted her to be able to see the future and know that it would. But she didn’t want that gift. Claimed he was the one bringing it out in her.
He finished his gumbo, drank his beer and switched to water. After dessert, which Gunner got from the restaurant he owned, it was time for business. Dare could tell by the way the men got restless and Avery fidgeted. Grace became quiet.
“You really think Darius is with Powell? That he’s the one feeding Powell the intel?” Avery asked finally. Jem pushed his plate away, and Key took a long drink from his beer.
“Yes—he’s doing it purposely,” Dare said after a long moment. “I don’t think he got captured on purpose, and I think he held out as long as he could.”
“What’s Powell’s next move?” Key asked.
“He’s going to ask for a trade,” Gunner said, and Grace paled.
“He’s not getting it,” Dare assured her.
“What
is
he getting?” Grace asked. Before anyone could answer her, Gunner’s shop phone rang.
“I think that’s for you,” Gunner said to Dare, who braced himself before picking up the phone.
“How does he know where we are if no one followed us?” Grace asked.
“I left the number where he could find it in the underground room,” Dare told her before he spoke into the phone. “Dare speaking.”
“Why don’t you put me on speakerphone so you can all listen?” Richard Powell suggested, and Dare did as he asked, Powell’s voice filling the room. “Hello, everyone. Hi, Gracie—I’ve missed you. I hear you’ve been doing well.”
Grace held tightly to the bottle of beer she’d been drinking—it was slightly raised, as if she was ready to smash it against the phone.
“What’s your endgame?” Dare
asked.
“Grace.”
“Forget it.”
“There’s someone I think you’ll be interested in hearing from,” Powell said. “Say hello, Darius.”
Dare’s gut tightened. Avery put a hand over her mouth, and Grace cried silently when Darius’s voice came over the line.
“Dare, I’m fine—”
“He won’t be,” Powell broke in. “And I wouldn’t call the shape he’s in fine, although I know he can handle more than the average man.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Grace said, even as Dare attempted to stop her from talking.
“Grace, you know how I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’ll bet you’ve been,” she said fiercely.
“You come back and it’ll all go away. Dare gets his father back and Dare gets to live, as do the rest of your new friends.”
“I need proof of life,” Dare cut in. “You could’ve taped his voice.” He gave Powell the number to a throwaway cell, and a minute later, Powell said, “Check your phone.”
Darius, holding today’s
New York Times
. Gunner pulled up the front page on the computer—a match.
Darius looked horrible, but Dare ignored Grace’s gasp of surprise behind him.
“Speak to me, Powell,” Dare told him. “Let’s keep it short and simple.”
“Short and simple? Fine. Grace for Darius. A fair trade.”
Grace shook her head at the impossible decision her stepfather had put out there.
“What’s fair about it?”
“Normally, I’d just take them both. It’s a onetime offer.”
“And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“You keep trying to kill me. And others around me.”
“You want me to call off the dogs? That’s not part of the deal.” Powell said. “Darius for Grace. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Feel free not to take that long—and I’ll feel free to proceed as I’ve been with Darius and hope he holds up.”
The last thing they heard over the line before it cut out was Darius’s screams.
* * *
Grace
didn’t realize she’d dropped the bottle until she heard the crash and tinkle of broken glass on the floor. There was a long pause, and until Avery put a hand on her shoulder, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
She exhaled, held on to the chair; her legs felt shaky.
“I’ll do it,” she said, and they all started talking at once. She put up her hand and told them, “I’m the reason you’re involved in all of this. I’m the problem. I’ll go to him and he’ll free Darius.”
“First of all, I don’t trust him to make that trade. Even if I did, I already told you, I’m not letting you go back there. It’s a death sentence, no matter how much you think otherwise. Manipulation only works to a certain point with Powell,” Dare told her.
“I’ll do better this time,” she said. “Look, if I can prove to him that not only did I survive, but my gift is fine, he’ll want to keep me alive, at least to test me. Sometimes a fake psychic’s better than a real one. People only want to hear good things—everyone says, ‘I really want to know,’ but no one does. So when you tell them something they want to believe, it’s perfect. Deal’s done—I’m a magician.”
“And when it doesn’t happen?”
“I always say, there’s no time limit.”
“Powell’s never going to buy that, Grace. He hasn’t even mentioned your gift as a reason to get you back. I won’t make the trade, even in the short term while we plan a rescue to get you back. You have enough nightmares.”
“So do you. So will Darius. So do all of us. You’ve done everything you could to protect me. Let me make this sacrifice for all of you. I trust you’ll save me.” Grace looked around wildly, hoping that one of them would be nodding. Instead, they all looked at her solemnly, with Jem shaking his head.
“Grace, honey, look—if I thought you had something to do with Powell, I wouldn’t let you do it because that would be suicide for us. But I do trust you and it’s still suicide for all of us, and even I’m not that crazy,” Jem said.
“Maybe that’s the problem—maybe we’re not acting crazy enough. I’m willing to do this—you all need to let me,” Grace insisted. “You have no right to tell me what I can’t do with my own life. For Darius. He saved me—it’s time for me to return the favor.”
* * *
They w
ere all still arguing an hour later. It was exactly what Dare had been hoping for.
He’d remained quiet, watching Grace argue with Jem and Avery and Gunner. That was expected of him after hearing and seeing the condition Darius was in. He hated to see Grace and Avery so upset about it, but it was necessary.
Finally, he muttered, “I need some time alone to think,” and went into another room.
The arguing didn’t stop when he left. He just hoped Key would stop Grace from attempting to follow him.
He dialed the number, waited to hear Powell’s voice. “About time—I was just getting ready to kill your father.”
“Thanks for holding off on that.”
“You’ve thought about my proposal. I hope you understand that saying no won’t change anything you’re currently experiencing. In fact, I’m having a good time, so I might not want to stop at all.”
“Listen good, Powell, because I don’t repeat myself. Instead of the trade you proposed, here’s my proposal—me and Key for Darius and Grace.”
He forced himself silent, screwed his eyes tight and prayed Gunner would keep Grace away from him long enough for him to complete this deal. Lying to her was bad enough—having her know about it beforehand would break his damned heart.
Finally, Powell spoke. “None of you will ever discuss S8. Especially Grace.”
“Right,” Dare agreed.
“And I believe that because?”
“Grace hasn’t spoken about it yet, and she’s had the opportunity. They all know I’d be the first to die if they do. They know you won’t stop coming for them. All they want is to live out their lives with some semblance of normalcy.”
“What kind of life will you and Key be living?”
“Whatever kind you decide.”
Chapter
Thirty-six
W
hen Da
re came back into the room, Grace came right over to him.
“I’m sorry, Dare. So sorry it’s come down to this,” she murmured into his neck.
“We’ll figure it out,” he told her.
“It’s time to lock down for the night. We’re vulnerable until we make a decision,” Gunner told them, pointed to the panic room.
When Dare looked at Grace, he saw her blanch at the thought of spending an extended amount of time down there. She’d barely made it walking through, and that had been a by-the-skin-of-her-teeth experience.
He already had other plans for her, so when she looked at him and pleaded, “I can’t stay down there,” he conceded easily.
“Tonight, we don’t have to. After that . . .”
“Okay, yes, after that, I’ll be okay.”
It was a lie, but he allowed it because she really believed it. It was one of the many reasons he’d fallen for her. She was as strong as anything. He believed she would turn herself over to Powell if given the whisper of a chance, which was why he’d moved so quickly.
He didn’t need to be psychic to know her plans. Now he had to hope her gift remained faulty for the next twelve hours. She’d told him that stress made it harder to pick apart the feelings, and she was wrapped up in her own stress and fear.
Gunner wasn’t happy with Dare’s decision to stay outside the panic room with Grace, gave Dare the side eye, but didn’t say anything except, “Keep the walkie-talkie close—we’ll be monitoring the cameras all night. Windows stay closed.”
“Yes, Mom,” Dare told him dryly, and Jem snorted.
He led Grace upstairs to one of the bedrooms, shut the door behind them and waited for the alarms to lock into place. “Come on—come to bed with me.”
She did that, fit into his arms. “I won’t make you choose between us, Dare—I won’t.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. This is my decision. You’ll never forgive yourself for letting your father die.”
“Darius is more than capable of taking care of himself.”
“He sacrificed for me.”
“He did that so you wouldn’t have to,” Dare told her.
There was no easy decision here, only heartbreak. She refused to let him take a single ounce of guilt. “Please, we can figure this out, but you have to get Darius out. Promise me that.”
“Promise.” His hand wound around the back of her neck, pulled her close, and she managed a smile, the first he’d seen in hours.
“Promise you won’t make a decision without me.”
He kissed her, and it felt like a promise, especially when he dragged her toward the bed.
“Promise,” she insisted, and he murmured, “Promise.” She ignored the nagging voice in the back of her head, choosing instead to revel in the pleasure of his mouth on her belly, her breasts, moving down between her legs to lick her core.
He took her over and over, even when she begged for mercy. She lost track of everything except the complete wash of pleasure.
And when he climbed up her body, kissing her breasts and neck, nuzzling her, she wrapped her arms around him and he did the same, didn’t try to make love to her, despite the fact that she felt his hardness press against her.
“We both have scars,” she whispered. “Lots of them.”
“Yeah.” He pushed off her and moved away, sat on the edge of the bed. Everything was weighing heavily on him, she knew. It was the same for her.
When he finally turned to look at her over his shoulder, he looked as haunted as she felt. “Grace, I won’t lose you.”
“It’s the best thing for you.”
“What’s best for you?”
“I don’t know if that’s ever mattered. Not even sure it’s supposed to.”
“It should—it
is
supposed to,” he told her. “I’m not letting you do what you’re thinking of.”
“Just don’t let me go tonight, Dare.” She put her arms around him, nuzzled her face against the back of his neck before kissing it, working slowly down his back, along his shoulders.
Finally, he lifted his head and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You’re the one who saved me.”
“Somehow, you’re saving me,” Dare told her. “Come over here.”
She moved to straddle him, still wearing just a T-shirt and nothing underneath. His hands moved along her thighs, around to cup her ass and pull her closer. Her sex brushed his erection and she shifted while he groaned.
She kissed him until she couldn’t wait any longer, lowered herself along the length of him. For a long moment, they just breathed, and then she began to take him, moving up and down. Running the show.
When he kissed her, it was full of an aching hunger, like he couldn’t get enough of her. She rocked against him, taking him in deeply, bringing them both to the inevitable end.
He groaned her name against her neck, then the word
love
. . . it was the only promise she hadn’t asked for and the one she’d wanted the most.
* * *
Key and Avery
monitored the computers together for the first shift, an arrangement Avery was pretty sure Jem had orchestrated. As he and Gunner slept across the room, she helped Key keep track of the surrounding activity.
She couldn’t count this as being alone with him, but it was the best she’d get. She wondered if he thought about their time in the bar, or her tattoo.
Her skin tingled whenever she was close to him. She wondered if she should’ve kissed him on the dock, if he’d have pushed her away. Then she told herself this wasn’t the time to be thinking about her personal life.
Then again, her personal and professional lives had collided, and she’d never be able to pick them apart again. “It’s really quiet out there.”
“Almost too quiet,” he agreed. “I’d say it’s not normal, but I don’t know what the hell is anymore.”
“You don’t think that Grace should allow herself to be the bait, do you? Powell will see that coming from a million miles away. He wants her dead.”
Key nodded, turned his gaze to her. “What would you do?”
“I’d do anything for my family. For the person I love,” she said, and suddenly, without a doubt, she knew Key was telling her what was going to happen. She’d suspected that since Dare had moved away from the group, but she didn’t want to believe it.
She knew better than to ask outright. All she could do was let Dare do what he needed to for the people he loved.
“So, the pickpocketing,” he said, changing the subject quickly, before she could think too much or ask questions. “That’s a handy skill.”
“My mom used to hire former inmates to help her on bounties. They were all reformed, but they had a lot of skills, and I was eager to learn. Pickpocket, car thief, safecracking—for a kid, it was better than Disneyland. But martial arts were always my favorite. Mom was big on being able to defend yourself. So I picked up different kinds of life skills.”
“What about technology?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“I can get around the Web, but we never had a hacker come in to help us with bounties,” she admitted. “Are you good at that?”
“Not me—Jem is. I’m a better hitter,” he said.
“I guess we do make a good team.”
He grunted in reply, and she took that as a yes.
“Maybe you can show me some of your self-defense tricks sometime.”
“Girls shouldn’t fight—they break too easily,” he said finally.
“Good thing I’m not a girl,” she told him coolly, and yes, he remembered those kisses. She was all woman, and he still dreamt about her at night. She made him all hot and bothered, but she was still too young, too innocent, despite all the tricks she could pull.
Then again, she’d also seen far too much in her life, and he knew all about that.
He stared at her again. “I think you know how to take care of yourself pretty well already.”
“There’s always more to learn. Are you willing to teach me?”
They weren’t talking about self-defense any longer—at least she wasn’t. She felt a hundred degrees hotter despite the chilly room. Wanted to touch his skin, breathe him in. Surrender to him in a way she’d never done with anyone.
“I don’t know if I can,” he said honestly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to teach anyone anything.”
“I think you are.”
“I think you’re giving me too much credit, Avery.” He turned back to the computer monitor, and she knew she’d gotten as much as she was going to get that night.
* * *
Jem paced the
floor, not looking at Key. He hadn’t been told any more than Grace or Avery or Gunner, but obviously, Key and Dare had decided to move forward with a plan without consulting anyone.
“I know you’re pissed—,” Key started, but Jem waved him off in favor of talking to Dare.
“Maybe vengeance isn’t the answer,” Jem said.
“It’s the only answer,” Dare countered.
“It’s going to burn you out and leave you with nothing. You’ve got to have more driving you. More than pure, white-hot revenge. Think about karma.”
Dare leveled a gaze at Jem. “Karma hasn’t exactly worked.”
“You’re living and breathing and you’ve got the one thing Powell wants most in the world.”
“And you want me to use her as leverage.”
“She wants that too. Don’t let your dick get in the way.”
“And then what?” Dare demanded. “He’s not going to let us live once he has her. He’s not going to let her live. And even if he was—”
“I’m not saying he keeps her forever—I’m saying use her as bait, letting her fake her way through the psychic bullshit. There’s no way he’s not coming after her while you and Key are off doing his bidding.”
“I’m counting on it—and you and Gunner and Avery—to
keep Grace safe.”
Jem ran a hand through his hair and muttered something about doing it but not liking it. Then he grabbed Key and hugged him. Held out his hand to Dare and said, “You take care of him or I’m coming after you.”
“Consider it done,” Dare said.
“Avery and Grace will be safe if it’s the last damned thing I do.”
The men nodded, and Jem let them out the front door, relocked the place and prepared for the fallout that would soon follow.