Unbreakable: A Section 8 Novel (A Section Eight Novel) (20 page)

I
t would take everything Avery had to stand in front of the computer screen and see Landon again, hear his voice, watch him shake hands with Drea. But for the woman who’d risked so much to help her, she would absolutely do so, despite the fact that Drea herself didn’t want her to.

“Avery, it’s too much, too soon. Let Jem and Gunner watch. You don’t need to do this,” Drea had told her only hours before Jem took her to the meeting place three towns over.

“I’m there. Just remember that while you’re with that bastard. I’m there. We all are,” Avery told her.

Now she watched Jem return, his face grim. He’d had to leave Drea alone in the house—it was too risky otherwise.

“She’s still alone,” Gunner told him. Jem nodded, his face expressionless as he sat down next to Gunner. Grace stood next to Avery behind them. Gunner had left a seat for her, but she didn’t want to distract him or Jem. This was too important. No matter how scared she might be, Landon was on the other end of a computer. Drea was the one dealing with him face-to-face.

“You’re sure he’ll come to the meeting?” Dare asked.

“He always takes the meetings. Always. It’s his MO,” Gunner said. “If he doesn’t, we know we’re made.”

And Drea had a contingency plan for that. All she had to do was hit a button and the entire house would fill with gas. It would knock her out along with Landon and his crew, but it wouldn’t be enough to hurt them. It would give Jem enough time to get back to her.

“Why the hell don’t we just gas and kill them?” Jem asked for the thousandth time, even though he knew the reason well: In case the part of Landon was really being played by two men instead of one.

No one answered Jem, but Key squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

And then the doorbell in Drea’s safe house rang. She went to it and answered the door, looking stylish, but nothing like the pictures they’d taken of her. If she was really a woman on the run, she wouldn’t be dressed to the nines and calling attention to herself.

But Avery knew that rich women always looked elegant, no matter what they were wearing. Drea fit that bill. They’d spent an hour covering up her tattoo sleeve with special makeup, but it was worth it for all of their peace of mind.

She held her breath when she heard Landon’s voice. Her fists clenched when he ordered his men to search the house, and told another one to hold her still for the photo. The man grabbed Drea’s arms and pulled them behind her back and Landon snapped a picture.

“We’re on,” Gunner muttered, and Jem started typing furiously. He inserted the corrected information into Drea’s federal profile, information that would only remain for sixty seconds.

It would hopefully be all they needed.

“He’s got his hit,” Jem said, his voice raw.

“You’re a wanted woman,” Landon said with an approving smile.

For once the feds had worked in their favor, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Jem lit a cigarette as they watched Drea hand Landon the money he’d requested. Only then did Landon sit her down to go over the final plans with him about smuggling her out of the country.

She asked the right questions—where would he put her and why? How would she get new identification? How soon would he be able to get her husband out of custody?

In the good old days, before S8 started fucking with him, Landon would’ve had the power to do that. As of now, Gunner made sure he wouldn’t be able to deliver on that promise, but Landon had no way of knowing Drea knew too.

The idea was to get Landon working on a high-profile job that Drew could’ve pulled off in his sleep. Donal didn’t have a quarter of the experience or the finesse, and all his time would be put into this dream job. His attention would be divided and that’s when Gunner and S8 would strike at him on the island, on his turf.

Only then would Gunner know the truth about Drew. And everything was going fine until Landon said, “I hope you have a bag packed.”

“I do, but you said this would happen next week.”

“I said your move to your permanent new country of residence would happen next week. Today, you’ll fly out of here with me. Trust me, it’s much safer this way. I don’t like having federal agents circling my clients.”

Drea paused. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave.”

“You have to be. Cutting ties is the hardest part, and the most important. Best to make it like ripping off a Band-Aid. We go now,” Landon said, and Jem cursed under his breath.

“I have personal belongings that will get lost if I don’t collect them.”

“It’s either you come with us now and we leave in the morning or we don’t have a deal. I’m sure your life is more important than your belongings, no?”

“I know what’s important,” Drea said, and that was completely for their benefit. She stood, went into the bedroom and wheeled out the luggage she’d packed. One of Landon’s men took it, to search it, no doubt, and then without a final look back, Drea was gone.

•   •   •

T
here was dead silence in the room as Jem continued to stare at the empty screen. Drea had a choice and she made it, and goddamn her for risking her life.

For your family.

“We go in now,” he said. No one argued. Not right away, anyway. After a few minutes had passed and Jem was able to make sure the tracking for Drea was working, Key started in.

“Bro, we’ve got to give this a day to work.”

“She doesn’t have a day,” Jem told him fiercely.

“I think Landon’s bringing her to the island because of everything we’ve been doing,” Gunner broke in. “He’s extra paranoid. That’s good for us.”

“Suppose he doesn’t bring her where he says he’s going to? Suppose he made her?” Jem demanded.

“Twenty-four hours, Jem,” Key repeated. “We can get close. But if we don’t wait, we could be risking Drea’s life too.”

Jem knew that. Rubbed his temples and fought the urge to slam his fist through the wall.

It was going to be the longest twenty-four hours of his life.

T
h
e island was more heavily guarded than it had ever been. Gunner used the rubber Kodiak to take them in, letting the tide and their manpower do the work to get them to shore. Grace was waiting on the bigger boat two miles out—she was armed and ready for trouble but knew that those on the boat were headed to the biggest trouble.

Gunner dragged the boat to the sand, helped Avery out. He stored the boat by the other boats used to access visiting yachts and the like—it would go unnoticed for the most part. They would as well until they got within twenty feet of the main house.

The guards circled Landon’s house. The last takedown of traffickers that Key and Jem had scored had sent two different teams of men here, all looking to kill Landon. Word was that Landon had escaped, but a lot of his men hadn’t.

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.

•   •   •

Je
m 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.

•   •   •

Av
ery 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 af
ter 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.