Unbreakable: A Section 8 Novel (A Section Eight Novel) (21 page)

G
unner’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. Pl
ease.”

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 have 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.

Now he yanked on the rock, pushed and pulled and heard the mechanism under the grass begin to move. Slowly, he rolled back the AstroTurf to reveal the opening. Then he went down first, with Avery following close behind.

The catacomb tunnels were narrow, claustrophobic. It was damp down here, and Gunner was almost certain it flooded during high tide. The lapping of the water along the floor as they rounded the corner told him he was right. Both their boots sloshed in the water that grew progressively deeper as they approached a hallway with several closed, locked doors.

Gunner kicked open each and every one of them, Avery holding her weapon, covering him. When they got to the last door, he kicked and saw the body lying in the water on the floor.

The man’s skin was deathly pale. There was blood coming from his nose and his ears. But still, Drew Landon had the strength to turn his head to look at him.

•   •   •

K
ey was next to Jem and both men got as close as they could to check out the mechanism.

“Gotta be attached to the main house in several places,” Key said quietly. There was no way to not let Drea know what was happening, and hell, they were certainly in this together.

“I’m not leaving you, Drea,” Jem told her. “Not leaving you here.”

He turned back to Key. “Is it timed as well as triggered?”

“Yes. Near as I can tell, we’ve got about four minutes left before it blows. The weight of the stone means it’s not going to go down all that fast. We can get out. But it’s going to be tricky.”

Is she wired to blow?
he mouthed, and Key’s expression tightened. He nodded, pointed a finger at the red and green and yellow wires that snaked into her shirt.

“If we cut them?”

“The main bomb goes.”

Jem cursed and texted Gunner as Dare yelled for them before he came into the room.

“Where’s Gunner?” Jem asked.

“Looking for Drew.”

“He’s not answering my texts.”

“We’ve got to cut the wires, Jem,” Key told him. “Waiting’s not going to save anyone. They’ll have time to get out.”

Jem took the cutters from Key and nodded. “Go, brother—you and Dare, get a head start.”

“No fucking way, Jem.”

He looked up and Dare shook his head. He cursed, then smiled at Drea. “Once you’re free, I’m going to carry you out of here. I’m going to run like the wind, baby, so you just hang on as best you can and know I’m not letting you go.”

And then he held his breath and cut the yellow and the green wires, effectively stopping the trigger that would cause the bomb attached directly to her to explode.

Things happened so fast after that. The rumble started under their feet as the explosions went off in a series, rather than all at once. He cut her loose and put her over his shoulder. With Key in front and Dare behind, the men flew down the steps as fast as they could, bricks and stones slamming around them down the narrow passageway. The floor was shaking under their feet and they had to get to solid ground.

When a column fell in front of them, nearly trapping them on the stairs, Key managed to shove himself through.

“Hand her to me, Jem,” Key said, and Jem did so. She was so cold and pale, but thankfully she was malleable enough for him to get her through the small space. He crawled forward, Dare right behind him. Jem put Drea over his shoulder again and as they landed on the last step, the stairway collapsed with a loud boom behind them, the air in front of them a dustbowl they could barely see through.

“Keep moving forward,” Key shouted. Jem hooked a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, and Dare did the same for him.

“I have her mouth and nose covered,” Dare told him after he let go of Jem for a second. As he followed Key, he realized that this was exactly what they meant by blind faith.

•   •   •

T
he sound of the explosion was magnified down in the catacombs. Avery grabbed Gunner’s arm and they both looked down the hall. The main doorway wasn’t blocked. Yet. But the way the rumble sounded, it wouldn’t be long.

Gunner went to Landon, a hand on his chest.

“Donal . . . never right,” Landon managed. “I tried. Always . . . got burned.”

“I know he killed Josie.”

Landon’s eyes fluttered. “Never . . . believed me.”

“I didn’t. Not until now.”

“Tried . . . to make you . . . feel like family.”

Gunner couldn’t tell him he didn’t want to be a part of Landon’s fucking family, but would never do that to a dying man. A dying man who’d done his best to help Gunner in his own sick way.

Drew gasped; then his eyes closed.

“Is he dead?”

“No, he’s still alive.” Gunner felt the weak pulse and raised the man’s eyelids. “Barely.”

He sat back on his heels as the walls started to crumple around him, stared at the man who would no doubt rather be dead than paralyzed. His entire business was ruined, an empire brought to its knees by careful, vicious planning.

S8 had made a name for itself over the past months by taking down everything Drew Landon had worked so hard to build, and all because he couldn’t extricate himself from his family.

Leaving him here might be the kindest thing Gunner could do for him.

“Gunner, we have to go. Now.” Avery touched his shoulder. “Do you want to take him with us?”

So much fucking understanding in her voice. He stood, took her hands. “I love you, Avery. Have from the first second I saw you.”

“I love you too, Gunner. Always will,” she murmured, and they stared at each other, even as the walls began to crack around them.

“We’ll leave him. He always said he wanted to be buried here. Should get his wish. And we leave him behind. We start new.”

When he looked back at Landon again, the man had passed. Gunner didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. And the cycle was broken, just like that.

J
e
m made it out of the building with Drea, Dare and Key just in time to watch the tower where Drea had been for the last day and a half crumple. He glanced behind him and kept running until they were at a safer distance, knowing that Dare and Key had broken off to run back toward the collapsing mansion.

“Drea, honey.” He put her on the ground, brushed the hair from her face. She was pale. Barely breathing. In shock for sure. He’d suspected as much in the tower, but didn’t want to risk breaking her out of it and having her possibly panic and flail and set the bombs off.

But now . . . “Come on, you’re okay. You made it. So fucking brave.”

He rubbed her arms, her face, rough touches meant to bring her back, but she sat like a stone. He took off his jacket that had all the ammo and weaponry in it, wrapped it around her, but she still shivered, even under the warm sun. Not a good sign.

He looked back and saw no one coming toward them. Grace was texting him, asking for an update.

He had nothing to tell her. Dare must’ve texted her as they’d gotten free from the building so she wouldn’t worry. At least not any more than what they’d already put her through.

All he could do was hold Drea, tell her it was okay, over and over, and pray he was right. And finally—fucking finally—the rest of his team appeared. They were running from the building that was leaving a thick cloud of dust in its wake and Jem picked Drea up and began to run toward where they’d left the boat.

“He wired the ground!” Key was yelling as they all ran, got into the water as Gunner dragged the boat. They were floating maybe ten feet from shore as they watched the grass they’d just run on go up in flames.

“Jem, lay her down—raise her feet above her heart,” Gunner was saying. Jem grabbed some of the cushions from the seats, threw them on the floor as he lowered her. Avery came over and held up Drea’s legs, as Gunner instructed.

“Check her, Gun—make sure,” he said as Avery held on to him. “Did you get them?”

“They’re both dead,” she confirmed. “Drew wasn’t in on it.”

“Still deserved what he got,” Jem said, and Gunner nodded. “You’re free, Gun. Finally free.”

Gunner put a hand on Drea’s forehead. “At what cost?”

“She’ll be okay. She has to be,” Jem said fiercely, because he couldn’t believe anything else. And when they pulled up to the boat, Grace was waiting for them.

“Coast Guard’s been called. We’re going to have to get ahead of them,” she said.

“I’ll do it,” Key said, and Dare followed him. The boat started moving as soon as Jem boarded, as he was the last one on. Gunner already had taken Drea downstairs, and he joined them and Avery and Grace as Gunner ran IVs and tried to get her stabilized.

“She’s been in shock for a while . . . maybe since he wired her,” Gunner said.

“It’s a wait-and-see, Jem. There’s nothing more a hospital could really do for her, but we can get her to one. I’ll flag down the Coast Guard,” Gunner said.

“And get caught?”

“I don’t care,” Gunner said.

“Gunner, there were safety measures Landon put in place if he died. Pictures of you, proof of your jobs were going to be sent to the CIA,” Jem reminded him.

“We don’t know if that’s true,” Gunner said. “And even if it is, I’ve disappeared before.”

Avery nodded her approval, even as she held on to Drea’s hand, brushed her hand over the doctor’s forehead, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

“It’s a waiting game, Gun. You and I both know that. The hospital won’t do anything more than you can. But thank you,” Jem told him. They all knew he was right.

Her heart rate was still tachy. Her eyes were unblinking. She wasn’t in pain.

“Shock’s the body’s way of protecting itself—the mind shuts down when it knows you can’t handle it. This saved her, Jem,” Gunner told him. “She’s going to come out of it.”

But no one could know that for sure.

•   •   •

Avery found Gunner on the deck, facing the bow. The boat cut through the water at a fast speed, Key behind the wheel and Dare directing him in the dark that had descended.

They’d made the decision to stay on the water close to shore; that way they could get Drea to a hospital if things worsened.

They hadn’t. But they hadn’t improved either.

Jem wouldn’t leave her side. Insisted Avery go check on Gunner.

Grace grabbed her on the way up, handed her some sandwiches to bring to Gunner and then went to bring some down to Jem.

“She’s got to be okay, Grace,” Avery said.

“I know. God, this is so unfair.” Grace looked angry. In the time Avery had known her, she hadn’t really seen that emotion come through. But Avery agreed with the sentiment one hundred percent. “I still want to do Section 8. Just know that—now more than ever.”

“Me too.” She smiled for a second as she thought about Adele. “Adele would’ve been proud of us, I think.”

“I know she
is
proud of us. She’s like our fairy godmother, except she’d kill me for calling her that. Probably literally.” Grace gave her a quick hug. “Go to Gunner. Feed him.”

Avery did as she was told, looked forward to some quiet time with him, even if it would only be for a few minutes. “Hey, Grace made some food.”

“Thanks,
chère
.” He took one of the sandwiches, ate it quickly, then devoured another one. She nibbled on one too as she stared up at the stars.

When he’d finished the sandwiches, he drank down the soda too, and then she put all of that aside. She ran her hands over his shoulders, massaged them for a few minutes. He dropped his head forward and she heard the groan of appreciation.

“If you sit, I can do a better job, Tall Boy,” she told him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Tall Boy?”

“It’s a nickname I’m trying out. I could call you G if you like that better.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, and then he sat on one of the deck chairs and leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. She moved behind him again and proceeded to work the kinks out of his shoulders and neck, kneading and caressing until his body was relaxed. As relaxed as it could be under the circumstances.

It had been forty-eight hours with no changes in Drea’s situation. Forty-eight hours on the boat, with one stop to refuel. From Drea’s side, Jem had been monitoring the situation, checking for blowback on S8 and Gunner especially. So far, it was all quiet. But that didn’t help them in their decision-making process.

The most important thing was that they were together. Safe. Grace and Dare had put Powell’s money in a separate account, kept it offshore. Even though it was blood money, they planned on doing some good with it. So money wasn’t the issue. They could all disappear if need be.

But none of them really wanted to. Not now. New Orleans held a special spot in their hearts.

“She’s awake!” Grace called to them, and she and Gunner went down to the bunk where Drea had been recovering.

They crowded into the room and Drea blinked at all of them, like someone waking up from a long nap. She looked disoriented. A little pale still, but she appeared to have all her faculties.

•   •   •

J
em had been talking to Drea nonstop, murmuring softly, telling her she was fine, safe, that h
e would make sure nothing bad happened to her. That it was okay to wake up.

He told her jokes and stories. He played her music. He slept next to her, when he did allow himself to sleep. Most of the time, he was too busy watching her and monitoring comms to do so.

When she’d blinked normally the first few times, he’d pretty much held his breath. The monitor showed her heart rate returning to normal, and he took the nasal cannula of oxygen from her and watched her levels.

Fine. She was fine. She swallowed. Coughed. He handed her water, and her arm went up. She uncapped the bottle and brought it to her mouth and drank. She was a little shaky but overall, coordinated. There was no apparent damage, apart from what she’d been through.

He called for Grace softly, and she poked her head in. Must’ve called for Gunner and Avery, because they were there in a few moments.

“Drea, honey, welcome back.”

She tried to get up but couldn’t. When he moved closer, she put her hands out. “Who the hell are you?”

His heart squeezed. “My name’s Jem. You were hurt. I’m helping you.”

She nodded, still looking suspicious. She glanced around at everyone. “Who are they?”

“These are my friends. They helped you too,” Jem told her.

She stared at him, her head tilted. “You’ve been here talking to me.”

“Yeah, the whole time. I never left you.”

“I don’t . . . Where are we?” She looked around the small cabin.

“We’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean,” he told her. Everyone else was quietly watching her, the expectation level high. “The mission’s over.”

“The mission?” she asked.

“Maybe too soon,” Gunner said, and Jem nodded.

“Doesn’t matter, Drea. You’re safe, okay?”

“Okay. But I don’t . . .” She shook her head a little, stared around the room. “I’m okay.”

She seemed to be saying that to reassure herself more than them. She took more water, smiled a little.

And then she ripped the rug out from under him by asking, “Did Danny send you? Is he here? He must be worried if something happened to me.”

Danny. Her Outlaw Angel ex.

He recalled his psych days, watching the doctors dealing with amnesia patients, had known it could happen to Drea. Had prayed it wouldn’t.

“Sometimes the mind takes us back to a place in time when we last felt safe,”
one of the doctors told him when he’d asked about the causes of amnesia.

Had Drea never felt safe with him at all? Or had it just not been a long enough time yet to compete with the memory of Danny taking her out of her house and away from all the abuse she suffered at the hands of her parents?

“Just go with the Danny thing for now,” Gunner murmured. “Don’t freak her out any more.”

Grace moved over to Drea, said, “Honey, let’s get you to the bathroom, okay? And then we can talk about Danny.”

“Yes, that’ll be good,” Drea agreed, and Jem let her go. Turned to Gunner and Avery, not knowing what the fuck to say.

“She wants to go back to Danny. To the OA,” Avery said, her voice low but urgent. “We can’t let that happen.”

“What do we do—kidnap her again?” Jem asked.

“It’s for her own good,” Gunner said, and Jem sagged against the wall.

“Returning her to Danny would get the feds off her case,” Jem said. “Danny would rescind his testimony.”

“You can’t be serious about letting her go back to him,” Avery said.

“Keeping her away from him might fuck her up more,” Jem said. “Trust me, Avery—I know about this shit. Seen it firsthand.”

He stared at the closed bathroom door and wished to hell he knew how to fix this.