Anat rolled her wheelchair back toward the door to the hallway, her hand trembling. She made a little trilling sound with her pursed lips. “Terrie? What is this?” She kept rolling her chair until she was in the hallway.
Terrie followed with her partner. “Well, Anat. This is Randy, one of my partners. My other partners are with your granddaughter, so if you want to see her alive again, you’d better cooperate with us this time. Lester isn’t nearly as nice as we are. He visited the Randalls the other night and things didn’t go well. You don’t want that happening to Zyah, do you?” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice.
Anat had backed her chair into her sitting room and slammed the door like a child. As if that would keep her safe. Or her granddaughter safe. Terrie stepped aside and Randy kicked the door open. He held a gun pointed at Anat’s head, centered right between her eyes. He was right in front of the open window. The breeze fluttered the curtains, allowing the sea air to cleanse any fear from the room.
“Take the shot, take the shot,” Jackson ordered in the ears of the Torpedo Ink members.
The bullet hit Randy in the temple, driving him away from the window and Anat, spinning him around and taking him down. Terrie screamed, diving toward the gun, scooping it up and popping up to take a shot at Anat.
A huge tattooed man came out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Anat, taking her right out of the wheelchair to the floor, his body completely enveloping hers, taking the bullet meant for her as the rifle sounded a second time, and Terrie felt pain blossoming throughout her entire body and then went numb. She couldn’t hold on to the gun, even though her brain told her she needed it. She was looking directly at the man who had taken Anat to the floor. He was enormous, all muscle. Terrifying. He looked at her as if she were already dead, and maybe she was.
“Anat, did I hurt you?” Destroyer spoke gently.
“No. My leg aches a bit, but you wrapped it so well. Are you hit?”
“It’s nothing. No worries. Lana and Jackson took care of both of them. I don’t want you looking at them. I’ll get cleaners in here. I’m going to pick you up and take you into the bedroom. Jackson can hear me, so he knows you’re alive and everything’s all right. Both are down, Jackson. The male is dead, the female on her way out. Another minute.”
“You hit?”
“It’s nothing. Take care of Alena and Zyah. Lana, back them up. I’ve got this. Do we have anyone on Lizz?”
“Yes,” Czar said. “She’s covered.”
“Lester plans on killing Francine,” Jackson reminded. “We have to try to find a way to stop him. Do you have eyes on him? Or how many men he’s got with him? I haven’t spotted him yet.”
Francine knows Player killed those two men Jonas fished out of the ocean. She was in the garage the night they tried to kidnap Zyah. Sooner or later she’ll tell out of spite or try to blackmail Zyah and him, Czar reminded. This isn’t going to end well for Francine, no matter how much any of us would like it to.
Player had managed to make his way to Sea Haven with the rest of his team to meet up with Czar’s team, joining them just as the orders were given by Jackson for Lana to take the shot at Randy, and then she had to shoot at Terrie. They had choreographed ahead of time, over and over, as they did when they ran their own operations, to make certain they were prepared for every contingency. These thieves couldn’t be left alive, not after Player had shot two of them and Jonas already suspected him.
Czar could be ruthless when it came to protecting his family. And his family was Torpedo Ink. Who was Player kidding? They all could be ruthless, and they would protect every family member—and that included Zyah and her grandmother.
“Trying to get eyes on him now,” Ice reported. The bastard is sitting about two hundred feet from Francine. He’s got four men with him. They plan on boxing Zyah and Alena in.
They’re expecting their lookout Ralph to show up as well, Steele said. Jonas had to stay with his body.
Zyah and Alena got out of the car and made their way down the narrow path through the tall grass toward the bluff. The blowhole was about midway there, a small fence surrounding it to make people aware there was danger and to stay away. The wind had come up just a bit, as it could on the coast, blowing in from the ocean, carrying both salt water and tendrils of fog with it.
Storm and Ice fed the fog, letting it thicken and darken, moving it toward the bluffs. Francine had been huddling on the ground, but as Zyah and Alena approached, she jumped up, a look of horror on her face.
“It was only supposed to be you, Zyah. Only you.” She began backing up, shaking her head, her fingers covering her mouth, looking wildly around.
She hadn’t been lying. Someone had beaten her severely. Her face was swollen and lumpy, eyes nearly closed. Her mouth was distorted. Her clothes were ripped nearly off. Zyah held out the coat to her, but Francine continued to back away, shaking her head.
“You don’t understand.” The words came out a moan. “You had to come alone.”
“Why did she have to come alone?” Alena asked. “I’m a woman, honey. I understand these things. I’m not going to tell anyone. We’ll get you home.”
“No. No. They’ll hurt my grandmother. They will. I’m sorry, Zyah, but it was you or my grandmother.” Francine’s sobs were loud, the sound carrying in the night air.
“Shut up, bitch. I’m so fucking sick of your whining. You were happy enough to take the money and watch all the old people get beat.” Lester’s voice came from behind them.
“Stop,” Francine whispered. She put her hands over her ears and kept backing up. “Don’t tell them. Don’t say it.”
“Why? Don’t you want them to know what you did? How you wanted us to fuck her up? You were right there yelling at us to fuck her up. To beat her until she couldn’t stand up, until no one would be able to look at her face again. You laughed when her grandmother was beaten so badly and you told us we didn’t get the treasure. That her grandmother hid the greatest treasure of all from us. You were the one giving us all the information on the families in this town, your neighbors, the people you grew up around. And you did it for money.”
Lester continued to mock her as two men came up on the left side of Zyah and Alena and another two on the right. “And now you’ve brought these two women here so we can get the treasure. You know what we’re still going to do, you little whiny bitch? We’re going to take your grandmother’s jewelry, all of it, tell her what you did and then beat her almost to death. We might leave her alive so she can think about you every damn day and how you betrayed her. First, though, I’m going to put a bullet in your fucking mouth because I can’t take hearing your voice one more minute.”
He raised his gun. Francine turned and ran. Zyah yelled at her to drop to the ground. Three shots rang out simultaneously. The fog swirled thicker than ever. There was a thin wail that choked off midcry. Jackson was a marksman, and Lester had gone down immediately. He’d been hit by Jackson’s rifle as well as Lana’s and Preacher’s.
The men on either side of the women tried to use them as shields, pulling weapons and firing into the night, one dragging at Zyah’s arm to thrust her in front of him. Another clawed at Alena. Player ignored every command by Jackson, first sprinting and then somersaulting, coming up under the man holding on to Zyah, hitting him with both feet in the jaw, snapping his head back so hard, there was an audible crack.
Jackson swore and took the shot, taking out the man trying to pull Alena in front of him. Alena seemed to stagger backward, right into the man’s partner, and both went down in a wild melee of arms and legs. The fog swallowed them so that it was impossible for the sharpshooters to cover them.
“Stupid little bitch. You messed with the wrong man.”
“Stupid little bastard. You messed with the wrong woman.” Alena had come down under him, but her legs were wrapped loosely around his neck. She tighte
ned them and rolled, snapping his neck easily. “Idiot,” she hissed. “I don’t have time to play around. I’ve got a restaurant to run.”
She came out of the fog, staggering for Jackson’s sake, took two more steps and then sank down, pressing a hand to her head where she’d let the nasty little worm kick her. She’d have a knot, but they had to look like they’d taken a beating, right? Jonas was too suspicious of them most of the time. She kept her hand pressed to her head, but looked toward the fog where Player was “fighting” with his opponent.
Twice the two men rolled out of the fog bank, struggling for the gun, just long enough so Jackson could see the furious battle. Zyah crawled toward Alena, helping her to her feet. She looked as if she was torn between helping Player, trying to go toward the bluffs to find Francine or helping Alena to the car. Reaper and Savage came up on either side of her, pointed toward the car and then started toward the bluff, disappearing into the fog.
Player was thankful it wasn’t his job to make certain Francine had gone over the edge on her own. He just had to make it look good for Jackson before this last man was dispatched. Twice the man had tried to give up. The gun was in his hand, but Player controlled it completely. He was too strong, too powerful.
Each time Player took his assailant out of the fog bank, he gave Jackson a clearer shot, but he needed to make certain Jackson took that shot. He wasn’t taking chances on anything else. Lana and Preacher were his backup. He was putting his life on the line to make certain this last man went down. He was also banking on the robber’s instincts. He would have the gun at last and Player in his sights. Instincts should make him raise it even if he didn’t pull the trigger. Player would dive to the ground, but that didn’t ensure he wouldn’t take a hit. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a head shot.
They rolled out of the fog together, came apart, Player “losing” his grip on the gun as they came to their feet. He dove into the fog as the robber lifted the gun. Again, shots rang out. Storm sent a gust of wind between the robber and Player as the gun lifted. The thief went down.
Zyah turned back from the car, screaming his name, running toward them until Keys and Maestro intervened, blocking her path.
“You alive, Player? You better call out if you are. Your woman is a little anxious. And Jonas needs your statement,” Czar said. “He’s a bit edgy right now.”
“Fucking asshole nearly shot me,” Player groused. I’m fine, baby. Stay there with Alena. We’ll go get your grandmother. She can’t stay in the house. It’s a crime scene. We’ll arrange for her to stay with Lizz. I think Lizz is going to need her right now. Reaper and Savage told Czar Francine fell over the bluffs. He was grateful he could tell her the truth. They really did think she had fallen. She’d been backing up and, in the fog, perhaps hadn’t seen how close she was. She’d been crying as well.
I think she threw herself over the edge, Player. She was very distraught. She didn’t want Lizz to know what she’d done. He kept taunting her.
Player couldn’t take the tears in her voice. He went to her immediately, wrapping his arms around her. “Jackson, tell Jonas I’m taking Anat and Zyah to Lizz. They’re going to need one another. Then I’ll come to him. You can talk to them at Lizz’s.”
Jackson started to protest but changed his mind and waited, just like Jonas, for the detectives to come to work the officer-involved shooting. They had asked for help and none was available, but they had filed step-by-step reports of their findings and what their fears were prior to their operation. They had contacted the department for additional manpower, but the deputies were scattered across the county, and they had relied on the law enforcement that was close to them, which was something they often had to do in an extremely rural area. Now both men had to wait for the detectives. Fortunately, there were plenty of witnesses.
EIGHTEEN
Player watched Zyah wander around the master bedroom, barefoot like he was, in a sheer shirt that dropped to her knees. He found it sexy as hell. The shirt could have been a man’s dress shirt but was transparent, showing off her luscious curves. She had them in abundance. Her tits moved with every graceful step and sway of her hips. Her ass was so perfect he wanted to take a bite out of it. Instead, he sat, sprawled in one of the chairs in front of the long row of flickering flames, eyes half-closed, just watching her. He could watch her forever.
She’d been wandering around the house without talking for some time. He didn’t push her. He knew she was working things out in her head and she needed space. He gave her that. He didn’t want to, fearing she might try to distance herself from him, but pushing her wasn’t the answer either. He’d done what he could to show her she mattered to him. It wasn’t always going to be easy. He knew that. There were things about his club she was going to have to accept that would never be easy for her. He hadn’t talked about those things yet either. But he figured, one thing at a time. He’d been the idiot keeping his distance from her when she’d given herself to him over and over. They were connected, and he knew she was willing to be with him, stay with him, but there was a little part of her that was holding back. That was on him.
Zyah turned suddenly, her dark eyes moving over him, taking in his bare chest and thin drawstring pants. Immediately, she walked straight over to him, waiting for him to widen his legs so she could kneel between his thighs and look up at him.
“I don’t want you to want me because I can fix your mind when it’s shattered, Player. Or because we have explosive chemistry. That’s what I’m most afraid of. That the person I am will get lost in the things you need. I love the sex as much as you do. Maybe even more.”
That wasn’t possible, but he wasn’t going to argue the point.
“But sex can sometimes disappear during times of sickness or pregnancy. Or children making you too tired. I don’t know. Whatever. You can’t make that an entire relationship. There has to be more. A foundation. And I don’t want it to be because I’m some kind of nurse, repairing damage to your mind when your illusions get out of hand. I want to be wanted for myself. I deserve that. I want to be seen for me.”
He leaned toward her, looking down into her beloved face. Just looking into it made his heart clench in his chest. He framed her face with his hands, feeling how soft her skin was, running his thumbs over her high cheekbones and then along her jaw.
“Baby, do you honestly think I could know you and not love you for you? See you for you? How could I not? I’m in your mind. I see how you are with your grandmother. I see how you are with Alena. You’re tired and you don’t want that second job, but you’re worried about her. You don’t like to see her struggling.”
He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, that lip that he loved so much. “Even Francine, for all her viciousness, her jealousy, the things she did to you, your grandmother and the others in Sea Haven, there is a part of you that felt sorry for her and wished you could have found a way to help her. You have such compassion in you. It’s impossible not to love you for you. How can you be with me and not know that? Not feel that? Not be totally confident in that? Is it because I was so humiliated for you to know the things that happened to me when I was growing up? Because it wasn’t just when I was a child. That shit continued through my teen years, Zyah. That’s difficult for a man to have to admit to his woman. Did I hurt you so much that you’re finding it hard to forgive me?”
She was too compassionate for that. More than likely she had to come to terms with the fact that he killed so often. That he not only killed when he was young but was still doing it when he hunted—and found—pedophiles.
Her gaze never left his. Her mind was firmly in his. He felt her there, filling him when he’d always felt so alone.
“And you know there is no other woman for me. Right, baby? I don’t cheat. I would never cheat on you, in spite of my name.” He needed to reassure her even though she’d never asked for that reassurance.
“I’m well aware of that, a
fter seeing your memories that you really didn’t respond sexually to other women, that it wasn’t something you just said. You meant it. I couldn’t believe it at first because we were like crazy rabbits.” She flashed a little smile. “We still are. It’s always a marathon with us.”
He was quite willing to begin a marathon anytime, but they had things that were too important on both sides to get out in the open. He needed to be just as fair. She was willing to be honest. He had to be just as honest.
“I love you, Zyah. That isn’t going to change. I want you to be mine any way I can have you. I would prefer to marry you and have you live here with me. When your grandmother is ready and wants to move out of Sea Haven, we can have a place built on the property or put her closer in one of the rooms. But she isn’t going into a care facility. That’s my preference.” He sat back in the chair, waiting to see what she would say.
She rubbed his thighs, her gaze still on his, still without flinching. “I love you too, Player. Very much. That isn’t going to change. I want you to be mine any way I can have you. I am very traditional and would prefer marriage. I love the house. I definitely don’t want my grandmother in a facility, so we can discuss what would be best when the time is right. I do feel worry in your mind, so I think you need to tell me what that’s about.”
That was the big problem with having a really intelligent woman and one that could read minds—at least his. Her hands were distracting, rubbing along his thigh, up close to his groin without actually touching where he needed to be touched. He reached out and slowly unbuttoned the first five buttons of her shirt. It was oversized, and the two edges parted easily, giving him access to the perfect globes of her tits. Her nipples peaked for him instantly. He needed to touch her while he talked to her. Feel her soft skin. Tell himself she would understand and not condemn him or the others.
“You just have to come out and say it, Player.”
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