“Me.” Her voice trembles with hysteria. "Kill me."
Ignore the adrenaline pumping in his veins.
“Awww, what a good mother you are. Sacrificing yourself for your baby.”
Take slow, steady breaths.
“Now DeMarco will know how fucking serious I am."
Don’t flinch.
“And your kid will make him do whatever the fuck I want."
Don’t move.
"First time I've ever ripped off a bitch's panties and didn't fuck her."
A gruff laugh answers Shae's gasp. Uncertain if her sharp intake is from disgust or pain. Damn. He fucking hates being at the mercy of this bastard and not knowing how long he’s been out. Or how close she is to delivering.
"You look like you'd be a pretty sweet fuck once you pop out that brat. Maybe I should kill him and keep you. Even better to fuck with DeMarco."
He slowly lifts his hand. Wiggling his fingers. Thank fucking God. More grateful, than Nick’s got money, that he’s not tied up.
“With a man like DeMarco, you’ve got to like it rough. Bound, gagged, and ass slapped, huh?”
He rotates his ankle. Motherfucker must be really stupid. Or thinks he’s dead. Which gives him his best weapon. But he only gets one chance at surprising this asshole, and he can’t fuck it up.
“Nick would never do that. He’s always gentle with me.”
Indignation pounds in her tone. Never wavering in defense of her husband regardless of her anguish.
“Ah, then you really aren’t going to like this Princess.”
He swallows down the vomit in his mouth from the sickening sound of duct tape being ripped.
“No. Please don’t. I promise I’ll cooperate. I won’t—”
A muffled gurgle before her silence screams at him. Sick fucking bastard to assault a pregnant woman in labor. This ends now. He opens his eyes, blinking in the bright lights after wallowing in darkness for so long.
Footsteps thump on the front steps, and he slides his hand to his gun. Ready to kill every bastard who hurts her.
“Shae!” Nick’s demanding call echoes from the stairwell. “Damn it, sweetness. Fucking answer me!”
His boss’s fear drives his mistake. Announcing himself before he can assess the situation or plan his own attack. But this time the distraction is fucking perfect. The asshole jerks toward Nick’s voice, and Max flies off the floor. The lump on his head pulsing along with his heart.
An oomph bursts from the fucker’s mouth as they crash to the floor, and Max rams the barrel into the guy’s Adam’s apple. His wide-eyed terror so fucking satisfying before he pulls the trigger. Blowing the top of this motherfucker’s head onto the side of Gina’s desk. He collapses along with the corpse, his own fatigue kicking in, and rolls over. So fucking thankful for Andy and his team’s arrival too.
Nick cups the side of her head, pressing his lips against her other ear. Trying to calm her arching back. Her body straining to escape. Still battling against the enemy she doesn’t know is gone.
“It’s me, sweetness. It’s me. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
He curls her limp body against him. All the fight evaporates from her husband’s voice. With gentle fingers Nick picks at the corner and slowly peels the adhesive from her delicate skin. Her eyes blink open, tears brimming the lids when her gaze meets Nick’s. His face bloody and swollen from his own brawl downstairs.
Shae’s scared but okay. At least she is. The baby and Gina need them now.
Max accepts Andy’s hand and pulls himself up, while Nick’s attention remains steady-locked on Shae. Stripping the tape from her mouth. Outrage shakes his hands from his wife’s abuse. Stroking her damp hair while she cries.
“We got jumped. Motherfuckers thought they could keep me from getting back inside.”
“The baby’s…” Her face flushes, and she buries her forehead against Nick's shoulder, panting through the pain. “...coming.”
“What the fuck?”
“She’s in labor.” Ignoring the wavy lines blurring his peripheral vision, Max stoops behind her, welcoming her relieved countenance turning back toward him.
"I was so scared. I thought you were..."
Her lips purse together, unable to finish. He slices through the restraints jamming her back against one of the thick wooden beams edging Gina's office. Motherfucker.
Once she's free, her delicate fingers grasp his, soft skin chafed from the ropes circling her wrists. "Thank you."
Andy crouches down, flinching as he clutches his side. Still managing to give her his charming smile despite his own purple and black cheek. Proof of the fight he and Nick put up to get to Shae. “Time to get you to the hospital, love.”
She shakes her head, panic swelling in her eyes. “There's not enough time. He’s coming now.”
Nick meets Max’s gaze, and he nods. Totally fucking serious friend. "I'll coach, you catch."
He slides in next to her, while Nick moves between her legs and pushes her dress up her thighs. Before he can say a word, her grip tightens and she bears down, forcing her head into her chest. Damn she's small but strong. A wave of nausea washes over him as he leans forward with her. Must have a fucking concussion.
"I see his head." Emotion cracks Nick's voice. Not since their wedding ceremony has he seen his friend so overcome. "You can do it, sweetness. Keep going."
After a few seconds her body sags, and she falls limp against his shoulder. Her own exhaustion settling in. But he's got to keep her spirit and her stamina up. "You can sing and dance for hours on stage but now you're too tired to have a teeny, tiny baby? Come on girl, man up. I thought you were tough."
"Who gave out first on our last run?" She whispers through clenched teeth.
Touché. The first time he's ever heard her talk smack. Kind of nice. "Then let's do this thing."
She nods, pinching his skin with the ferocity of her hold, and pushes. A long groan rumbling in her throat as Nick encourages her. An unexpected witness to their private moment, Max only provides the physical support. He stays quiet, awed by their unbreakable connection after all this time. Still concrete despite everything they’ve fought through. They ebb and flow, Nick’s loving words buoying her efforts. Two of them converging into the singular purpose of bringing their joy to life.
His mind wanders where it shouldn't. Thoughts he shouldn't allow himself to think. Of Lily's birth. Gina finally sharing with him the complete story about her heartbreak. The description so vivid and harsh he felt like he was there. Imagining the hope still trying to spark despite the darkness engulfing her. That maybe her baby would surprise them all and be fine. That both of them would be okay. They would lay her daughter on her chest, realizing how terribly wrong she was. Instead, the fallen face of the doctor filled her vision after her final push. The scrambling nurses. Yelling out orders. Fighting for her little life. Until it was quiet. No more rushing. No more urgency. No newborn cries. Only Gina's screams.
That's why he's here. To do everything fucking possible to prevent that from happening to Shae. And to keep Gina's heart from breaking again.
"You're almost there, Shae. Just one more."
She nods at Nick’s request. White knuckles shake his shirt sleeve from her straining so hard, mustering all her force. A final moan rattling in her chest.
"It's a girl." Nick's eyes widen when the infant fills his hands. "We've got a daughter."
Only the sound of Shae's relieved sobs fill the room as worry lines Nick's forehead. Contorted into a desperate panic Max's never seen before.
"Fuck!" He strokes the infant's pink skin, his huge fingers engulfing her slight body. "Come on, sweet baby. Breathe! Breathe!"
"Nick?" Hysteria fills Shae's voice, and she lurches forward. Grasping for her child. Frantic to eliminate her terror. "What's wrong?"
Son of a fucking bitch. This can't be happening. Not again.
“Why isn’t she crying?” Shae’s body trembles against him, her tearful gaze me
eting his. “Why doesn’t she cry?”
He shakes his head and clutches her trembling shoulders, failing miserably to comfort her. Trying to let Nick focus his complete attention on his daughter. Andy steps forward. All of Shae's modesty forgotten in the turmoil of the motionless infant.
"Sweep out her mouth, mate."
Nick's head bobs furiously, and he pushes his finger between her lips. Swiping through the mucus before flipping her over and rubbing her back again. His lips press against her damp head. A frantic plea that makes Max's gut clench again. "Please baby girl."
Andy joins in the efforts, massaging her delicate feet before dragging his thumbnail across her left sole. Nick's own yelp of relief echoes in the open space when her curled leg flinches. She opens her mouth, her chest concaving as she sucks in a huge breath.
And wails.
Long. Loud. Furious.
Max's own body droops from the tension gripping him and a breathless laugh escapes his mouth. Fucking shit. She's okay and has her father's temper to match.
Nick yanks off his polo and swaddles her shaking body, gingerly protecting her umbilical cord. Covered in blood and slime but still so shockingly beautiful. Her fury dissipating when Nick cuddles her between his huge body and Shae. Their warmth and her mother's voice in her ear instantly ending the infant's turmoil.
Max presses a kiss into Shae's temple. "Congratulations."
He pushes off the floor and clutches the edge of the sofa. Finding his balance before he motions to Andy. The mercenary’s in charge now. Luckily a man he can fully trust to take care of all three of his friends. “I’m going to find Gina. Can you handle everything here?”
“I've got it.” Andy gestures to three of his men standing guard. “Go with him.”
Fuck that. Incapable of waiting any longer, he races down stairs and through the gallery, bursting into the now desolate parking lot. The roar of his engine almost drowns out the sirens wailing in the darkness.
One more thing to take care of before he can give everything he has to Gina. He shoves in his ear bud and thumbs his sister’s number while weaving through all the dumb asses meandering on the highway. Who are totally unaware his world is imploding with each second that passes.
“What the hell is going on?”
His head jerks from her shriek in his ear canal. He’s got to shut this shit down. “Where are you?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question.”
“Damn it, Millie. I need to know you’re safe.”
A long sigh blows through the line. Probably squeezing her eyes closed and pinching the bridge of her nose to gain composure like she does with the kids. “We’re at the hotel watching Gabby swim.”
“Good.” Relief washes through him yet doesn't alleviate the guilt. Damn. He dreads having to tell her the truth. “I’m sorry about ignoring your texts earlier. There was a shootout at the party.”
“Oh no!”
He fucking hates the fear in her voice. Failing once again to shield her from the brutality drenching his world as much as possible. Although smart enough to know the truth, she doesn’t need to be reminded again of his fucked up life. Especially after Paul kidnapped Gabby. More violence can only spike her anxiety for her daughter's safety again.
“Are you okay?”
No. “Yeah, but…they took Gina. I’m going after her.”
“Max, I'm so—“
His stomach turns from her sympathetic tone. Implying that maybe he won’t get her back. That it's already too fucking late. “I’ve got to go. Stay at the penthouse. Order room service or whatever you want. Just don’t leave. I can’t worry about you guys too.”
“We’ll stay. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Now it's his turn to let out a deep breath. Millie never lies. Probably even more devoted than he is, she accepts her responsibility to protect his mother and niece and not do anything to endanger them.
“I love you. Please be careful.”
“I will.”
He swerves around a truck doing forty in a sixty-five and taps Gina’s number again. Useless but he can’t stop trying to connect with her. Of course she doesn’t pick up. And her tracker is motionless too. Fucking shit.
All his fury pours into his twist of the throttle, ignoring the speedometer as well as the SUV full of Andy's guys trailing him. Gina can't wait anymore. And he’s going to make damn sure she’s safe before he annihilates the bastard who took her.
3
Chapter THREE
Max kills the engine a half mile from Nick’s warehouse. Final fucking proof their enemy lurks among them. Wobbly and weak, yet he has to make the rest of the journey on foot. Grateful now for Andy’s team. He may be fucking stubborn but he’s not a complete idiot. He can’t do this alone as fucked up as he is.
Silent in their words and actions, they traipse single file through the industrial park, dodging the glare of the floodlights cutting through the blackness. Her closeness driving the adrenaline spiking in his veins. Ignoring the fear that she’s anything but fine.
Max flips up his palm, and the men pause. After he motions toward the two guards at the side door, Christophe takes aim, the brushed metal barely visible in the shadows. The first shot strikes the guy’s forehead, his chin thrusting forward from the impact before collapsing. His partner drops to the ground, firing toward them. And fucking alerting whoever’s inside to their presence.
Damn. They’ve got to separate so he can get inside. To Gina.
He waves to Stone, and they circle the back of the building leaving Joseph with the other two to battle it out with the last guard.
Stone points to the semi, parked in the opposing loading bay, and then behind it. Both of them doing this for so long, Max knows exactly what he’s planning. A quick bullet shatters the driver side window before the mercenary scrambles inside. Amazingly quick hot wiring is one of the killer’s best skills.
Max jerks open the rear doors. Empty. Even better. He rests his forehead against the cool metal, waiting for the engine to fire. His head feels like a fucking brick, his body involuntarily shaking from the pain. He reloads, ready for the fight to get her back. Safe and secure is the only option.
The truck rumbles to life, and Stone revs up, busting through each gear. Getting up to speed faster than Max expects even with the barren cargo space. He sucks in a deep breath, before the bitter fumes can fill his lungs, and jogs behind the truck.
Slamming through the warehouse’s steel doors, the vehicle rolls about twenty feet before it jerks to the right with such force it wobbles and topples over. Giving them a few seconds to overcome the inhabitants' shock. Providing an impromptu cover against their response to the intrusion.
Max slips out from behind the spinning tire. Son of a fucking bitch. Heat runs through his body from the fucked up scene unfolding in front of him.
Katrina sprawled on the floor.
Richard gagged and tied to a chair.
Gina.
He’ll figure out the rest, but right now gratitude like he’s never known erupts in his aching body. He almost fucking loses control from only a glimpse of the back of her head as she slumps against Enrique. Her father hustling her away from their improvised attack.
“Gina!”
Her body stiffens from his scream and she twists around, her face crumpling when her gaze meets his. “You’re alive!”
An exclamation he can’t hear over the running semi, but the relief in the mouthed words and her heaving chest bore straight to his heart. She thought he was dead. As terrified as he was they wouldn’t make it back to each other.
All his fury explodes to nuclear levels. Scanning over the bruises marring her beautiful body. Raw scraped skin peeking through the rips in her purple dress. Red and black streaks diffusing across her puffy cheek. He meets Enrique’s eyes, expecting to see the same outrage in the old man’s expression. Fury over his daughter’s condition. Maybe even the unquenchable thirst for revenge. But no, a differe
nt emotion fills his countenance. His mouth set and nostrils flared, lines etched deep in his forehead above his stony gaze.
Not relief. Hatred.
At Max.
For being here.
For being alive.
What the fuck?
Enrique tips his head, yelling in her ear and jerking her backward. Her head shakes furiously, and she fights against his tight hold. Able to wrench free from his single-handed grip, she runs to him. Nothing and no one able to stop her determined streak.
His gut clenches as Enrique lifts his arm. Motherfucker better not even think about shooting her in the back. But the man swings right, aiming at Richard. A light bulb bursting on in her ex-husband’s terror-filled eyes from the realization of his role in this sick plot.
Max sweeps up her trembling body as she engulfs him. Thank fucking god. For a few seconds he indulges himself and relishes her cashmere skin skimming against his. Breathing in her lavender scent. Welcoming her crushing embrace.
“You’re okay.”
And she’s going to be. He fucking guarantees it.
Her heaving breath blows against his neck. Voice thick with the solace of his presence. Pissed. Scared. Confused. But alive. And this motherfucker better damn well know she will continue to be.
Stone kills the roaring engine, and the silence almost hurts from the sudden starkness. Max head bobs the mercenary, grateful he's all right, as he climbs out of the shattered window, his gun trained on Enrique. The older man responds with a snap of his fingers, and his bodyguards answer with their own armed stance.
Unbelievable. A fucking standoff with her father. That she can’t be caught up in.
The man to Enrique’s left steps forward, his gaze boring into her. “I’ll get her o papai.”
Heat blazes through his chest from the familiar accent, matching the bastards at the studio. Not Spanish but Portuguese. Fucking shit.
Enrique puts up his hand, shaking his head. “No need. Your sister will return of her own accord.”
Fighting against every instinct to never let her go again, he forces her to slide down his body. Ignoring the panic darkening her face, her eyes searching his for reassurance, he pushes her behind him. Regardless of anything else she will walk away from this. His gaze never wavers from her father watching her.
Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me (Surviving Absolution #4) Page 3