by Avery Flynn
However, this wasn’t just some guy being a jerk. It was Taz. She couldn’t even joke about offing him while commiserating with her best friends. The invisible fingers pinching her lungs closed tightened. What the hell did that say? Something she didn’t want to hear right now.
Bianca swallowed past the bitter chunks of broken heart clogging her throat. “I’m not going to kill him.”
From her listening post, Vivi shot her a wicked grin. “Would have been my first plan of action”
“Whacking someone is always your first idea,” Lexie said, her laptop screen giving her green highlights an otherworldly glow.
“True.” Vivi shrugged her deceptively small shoulders, a snarky grin curling her blood-red lips. “That’s what makes me so damn charming.”
Now that was something only an idiot said about the four of them. Correction. The five of them. Gidget may not be in Ft. Worth, but she was still part of the original B-Squad. Their bonds had been forged at the living nightmare that had been St. B’s and those ties didn’t unravel—ever.
None of them had ended up at St. B’s because their parents wanted to make sure they were well taken care of at a 365-days-a-year boarding school. Enrollment there was the modern-day equivalent of getting rid of the family bad seed in a nunnery. It didn’t matter what happened to the rich’s misbehaving daughters as long as they stayed out of sight.
She, Vivi, Lexie, Gidget and Elise had made up half of the residents in a ten-person bunkhouse. They wore uniforms, worked on the on-site farm in the mornings, and went to classes in the afternoons and evenings. That was boring and tough, but not the kind of thing to send three students to their self-inflicted deaths. No, that had happened because of the administrators who saw St. B’s as their own little dictatorship and enforced corporeal punishment, along with more creative things to keep the population submissive—right up until the feds got an anonymous tip, raided the place and shut it down for good.
If it hadn’t been for her girls, Bianca easily could have been one of the three students found hanging from the rafters in the school gym. She looked around at the women who’d saved her sanity at St. B’s. Sure, their senses of humor were black, their attitudes huge and their ability to trust seriously impaired, but they’d earned every one of their personality quirks the hard way.
Now it was her turn to pull on her cast iron big girl panties, ignore her shredded insides and do whatever it took to get Gidget home.
“I appreciate it, but we have more important things to deal with. Let’s get this briefing going,” Bianca said, girding herself for the mission ahead. “Are the guys still out in the hall?”
Vivi cracked open the door. “Yoo-hoo, big bad muscly men,” she called out. “Are you going to hide out for much longer? We have a mission briefing to do.”
“We’re not hiding.” Six-foot-three, heavily tattooed with a too-pretty-for-words, male model face and the kind of muscles that made other muscles jealous, Keir—the resident fixer—swaggered into the room. He always maintained his so-confident-he-left-cocky-in-the-dust vibe, but the worry was there, as visible as the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “It was a tactical retreat.”
“You were scared by sweet little ol’ us?” More than a foot shorter, Vivi made up for the inches in attitude.
“Said the spider to the fly,” Keir muttered.
The rest of the guys filed in behind him, each as tall and muscular as the one who came before. Vividly tattooed and bearded Marko Pike, with his gruff, one-syllable answers, was the man to know if you wanted to blow things up or bash heads in. Fast-talking Lash Finch, with his dark good looks and killer brains, could take out a target with a sniper rifle from an obscene distance or use his hands up close and personal without a twinge of conscience. Duke Trino, the resident ginger, had enough sex appeal and devious charm to get a person to agree to just about anything, and gathered secrets about people like squirrels collected acorns in the fall, which made him the perfect infiltration operative.
Their Romany heritage showed through in their unique names and their tawny brown skin. Trained on the street and in elite units of the military, they were dangerous, skilled and strutted down the skinny gray line between legal and not with a don’t-give-a-fuck shrug. They were not the kind of men you wanted to mess with and—not for the first time—she was glad they were all on the same side.
Lash stopped in front of the chair she sat in and stared down at her. The fact she was sitting down made him look even taller than his six feet, four inches. She knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth and it was the last thing she needed—or wanted—to hear.
She held up her hand. “Not now, Lash.”
“Look, it’s none of my business—really none of any of our business—but I’ve known Taz my whole life and Tamara for as long as she’s been in Taz’s,” he said in a rush. “There has to be more to this than it appears.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice steadier and stronger than she’d thought possible. “We have more important things to worry about right now.”
Bianca turned her attention to the map of the Indulgence Resort on the wall opposite her desk. Lash didn’t fidget at her side, trying to figure out what to say next. Men like him didn’t do that. Instead, he glowered at her.
“Lexie, can we get this show on the road?” she asked, ignoring the man-shaped concrete wall in front of her. “The jet won’t leave without us, but I don’t want it sitting on the tarmac loaded up like a flying armory for any longer than necessary. Taz will have to catch up when we’re in the air.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Taz from the door. “I’m here.”
Her world jolted to a stop hard enough to give her whiplash. Hurt and anger razed a fiery path through her, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell. There weren’t tears. There wasn’t fruitless hope. There was pain and there was nothing. She curled her fingers around the armrest of her chair. She could do this. She didn’t have a choice. For this mission, he would be her pretend husband and they would be on the most decadent of honeymoons.
She swiveled her chair to face the door. Taz stood just inside the opening with Tamara in all of her beauty queen glory at his side.
“What’s she doing here?” Elisa asked, ice chips in her voice.
“After our lengthy separation, I just can’t stand to be away from him for even a moment.” Tamara wound her arm around Taz and made cow eyes at him.
“Are you shitting me?” Lexie asked.
Keir pinched the bridge of his nose and the vein at his temple bulged. “He’s posing as a happily married newlywed during the mission; a second wife really isn’t in the picture.”
“So I’ll stay in the background with you guys.” Tamara turned, giving the room a good view of her perfect curves, and snuggled up against Taz. “If I don’t go with you…” She looked up at Taz and narrowed her eyes. “…all bets are off.”
Searching his face, Bianca looked for any sign of the man she’d thought she’d known only a few hours ago. The air of dominance and his palpable refusal to back down from any challenge remained. What she didn’t see was the lazy smile that had become more and more frequent the longer that they’d been together. Part of her reveled in the fact that it had disappeared along with any hope of them having a future together.
“Whatever.” She pivoted her chair so she again faced Lexie standing in front of the projected map. “You’ll stay with the rest of the team on the yacht a few miles offshore.”
“Sounds lovely,” Tamara said.
Bianca swallowed back the bile that rose at the other woman’s response. Lovely? Oh yeah. Just as much as getting a root canal while walking across hot coals during a blizzard in the arctic.
Taz
Trapped and unable—at the moment—to dig his way out of the mile-deep hole he’d found himself in, Taz took the first open seat in the back of the room where he could watch Bianca even if he couldn’t touch her.
His brothers avoid
ed his gaze, but their questions would come. They always did. When Freddie died, it had devastated him and his brothers, all of whom were rotating out of secret military units by then. They’d found themselves again at the Devil’s Dip Gym looking for an outlet for their unique skills. Bianca had provided that to them by welcoming them into B-Squad Security and Investigations. She’d given him so much more.
And he’d fucked it up royally—with help, of course. He glanced over at Tamara sitting next to him as if that was her rightful place.
“If everyone’s done staring at Taz’s secret wife, I say we get moving,” Lexie said from her spot at the front of the room.
Without waiting for an answer, she launched into the plan they’d been working on for the past few days. He and Bianca had jumped through a thousand hoops and a background check about as invasive as a colonoscopy performed by aliens. Only Keir and Lexie’s fast work had made getting through that a possibility. Everything relied on their cover as Trey and Bethany Alderson giving them enough leeway to perform a full search of the resort and an up-close-and-personal investigation of the Indulge Resort’s guests.
“So once Mr. and Mrs. Adlerson arrive, they will join in on the inclusive aspects of the resort,” Lexie said as photos of the Indulgence Resort flashed behind her. “As you know, the resort is welcoming lifestylers this month so you might be invited to participate in the sexual games. However, your status as honeymooners will make it easier for you to decline without arousing suspicion…” She paused and smirked in Bianca’s direction. “If you choose to.”
His muscles clenched and he fisted his hands. The idea of someone else touching Bianca’s soft skin, tasting her sweet center or hearing her moan out their name ate a hole six miles wide in his belly. That was not going to happen. He’d find a way to get her back. He would.
“The rest of the team will be on the Sutherland Industries corporate yacht,” Lexie said. “Thanks again, Bianca, for biting the bullet on that one and finding a way to get your dysfunctional family to loan it out to us.”
Oh yeah, nothing like Bianca having to deal with the turmoil of his nonexistent divorce right on the heels of a Sutherland family interaction. Her asshole parents, William and Becca, had put her through the ringer, throwing her into St. B’s as an eleven-year-old when she began acting out after her brother committed suicide. They hadn’t gotten any more loving after the cops closed St. B’s. Saying Bianca’s interactions with her parents were limited was putting it mildly—and he’d be in for the same if he couldn’t find a way to show her he deserved a second chance.
“Okay,” Lexie continued. “So here’s how we’ll run the search while we’re on site.”
Lexie launched into the nitty-gritty and Taz mentally checked out. The parts of the plan he hadn’t developed, he’d memorized already. This was for the rest of the team, to make sure everyone understood exactly how it was all going to go down if they found Gidget—and that was a big if.
He wasn’t doing this to find someone he’d never met. He was doing it for Bianca.
“That about wraps it up,” Lexie said, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room—narrowing her eyes when her gaze passed over him. “If there aren’t any questions—”
“Hold up,” Marko said as he held up his cell. “Just got this from my contact at the resort.”
He plugged a cord attached to the projector to his phone. A photo of a group of people standing on a beach appeared in place of the map taking up the entire wall. Everyone was smiling, tan and in swimsuits.
Vivi leaned forward in her seat, her gaze intense. “What are we looking at?”
“It’s from the Indulgence,” Marko said. “My contact is doing a little early recon.”
Taz searched the screen, examining every face for someone on a law enforcement most-wanted list or who appeared in one of the cabinet full of drug-dealing bad guy dossiers Lexie and Keir had put together over the past few months. No matter how hard he looked, however, it seemed like a gathering of trust-fund babies, rich hipsters and trophy wives.
Fuck. How many dead ends were there going to be in this case?
“Oh my God,” Bianca whispered in a quiet, broken voice that made his lungs seize.
He was on his feet and beside her before he knew it, one hand on her shoulder.
Her face had turned white, but she still brushed his hand away and stood up, taking several steps closer to the projected image. “Is it him?”
“Who?” Elisa asked, getting up from her own chair.
“Off to the left away from the group.” Bianca pointed with a wavering hand. “He’s in the hat.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Lexie said as she plopped down in a chair as if her legs suddenly stopped working.
Taz peered at the man in the white fedora and the pastel Hawaiian shirt. The picture was super high-resolution, catching every detail but he didn’t look like anyone he’d ever seen before or anyone who should be able to cause that reaction from Bianca. “Who is he?”
“Sterling Walsh,” Vivi said, all the sass and snark drained away from her voice.
He glanced at his brothers. They had the same blank expressions on their faces as he did.
“Who in the hell is Sterling Walsh?” Duke asked, pulling on his short ginger beard.
“He was the headmaster from St. B’s.” Lexie grabbed her laptop and began typing lightning fast.
“He’s supposed to be in jail,” Bianca said, backing away from the image covering the wall. “He got thirty years.”
“Three decades in a federal penitentiary isn’t what it used to be.” Lexie looked up from her screen. “He got out a year ago.”
“Right about the time Genie’s Wish made its presence known in the global drug market,” Taz said.
It made perfect sense. When he and Bianca had taken down the dealers at Bisu Manor six months ago, they’d said that Bianca had been the initial kidnapping target, not Gidget, but the switch worked because their supplier wanted the girls from St. B’s for his drug-testing experiments—specifically Bianca, Gidget, Vivi, Elisa and Lexie.
Looked like they had a headmaster with a grudge to deal with. He focused on the image, memorizing the bastard’s every feature so Taz could find him no matter what. The asshole was going down for threatening his girl.
“How in the hell did he go from psycho school administrator to drug kingpin?” Duke asked.
“Don’t know, don’t care right now,” Taz replied as realization dawned. “Look at who he’s holding on to.”
Walsh held on to a woman’s forearm, his grip tight enough that white lines formed on her freckled skin where his fingers clamped down on her in a death grip. Her face was angled away from the camera but she had long bright red hair that fell in fat curls to her mid-back. The hair was a tipoff but the confirmation came in the five-inch scar winding its way across her upper arm.
They’d found Gidget Harms.
Chapter 5
Marko
Pottsworth Private Airfield…
Marko’s mother was right. Instead of milk, some people poured stupid into their bowl of cornflakes. It was the only explanation for the trouble Taz had gotten himself into. Not that Marko was going to say anything. That would require actually talking, and he didn’t waste breath on touchy-feely crap or other people’s relationships. Just the idea of doing so made his balls shrivel a little, not something he appreciated.
“Fucking Taz,” he said under his breath as he hefted an eighty-pound crate of equipment and popped it onto his shoulder.
“What about him?” Elisa asked as she checked the crate off the list on her clipboard. “The fact that he’s a total douchebag dick or the fact that he should be snipped before he can pass his asshole genes to the next generation?”
Ouch. Marko gave the brunette with the angel face a second glance. She looked like one of those big-eyed Russian dolls his mother had kept on the kitchen window sill when he was a kid. Not because she was big enough to fit another three or fo
ur of her inside herself, but because she looked so sweet and innocent on the outside that it was easy to imagine she wasn’t hiding something. He mighta thought that, but he hadn’t poured a shot of stupid into his cereal this morning. He’d spent more than enough time over the past few months with the sharp-tongued princess to know better.
Elisa would verbally eviscerate a guy and rob him of his last nickel. The whole time the doofus would be standing there, too dazed by the fact this amazingly hot chick was talking to him to know what was going on until it was too late. By then, Elisa would be in the wind. It was fucking awesome to watch—also, it gave him a hard-on.
Instead of answering her rhetorical question though, he just shrugged, jostling the crate and turned toward the private jet waiting on the tarmac. After he got this loaded they were minutes from takeoff. Inside the cabin, there was a pint of Jack waiting for him so he could make it through ten hours of shooting across the sky in a metal tube without soaking his undies in flop sweat.
A few minutes later, the crate loaded, he took a slow walk around the jet, visually inspecting every inch. Not that he would know if something was wrong if he saw it, but he had a routine. He always checked the plane. It had gotten him through flights from Afghanistan to South America and a million places in between without him giving in to the fear that chipped away at the back of his skull every time he went up in one of these things.
He’d just rounded the jet’s nose when he spotted Tamara, her back turned to him, talking on her cell phone. Getting as close as he could without alerting her, he kept his mouth shut and his ears open—otherwise known as his default mode.
“Just hold on for a little bit longer, honey,” Tamara whispered into the phone. “I have to go with him, but it won’t take me long. Promise.”
Boyfriend? Side piece she was ditching for Taz’s money? Shit just went up a level.