Ian and Hollis moved through the warehouse, sweeping along the west side, while Snow and Rowe moved from the south and Noah and Dom moved in from the north.
“Someone is here!” The angry voice echoed from the second floor. Hollis looked up to see a figure standing against the railing of a catwalk that spanned the main floor of the warehouse. Gunfire opened up and Hollis ducked down, barely holding in check his need to pull Ian to him to cover him with his larger frame.
“Fuck!” Rowe snarled. “Change guns!”
“Target is on the second floor,” Lucas called out. “They’re moving him. Southwest corner.”
“There’s a staircase near me. I’ll go!” Ian shouted. “I need Tin Man with me.”
“Coming,” Snow instantly said.
“They could use a distraction,” Hollis snapped as a bullet thudded loudly into the wood crate he was hiding behind.
“Glenda!”
“Here comes Glenda, bitches!” Garrett roared a second before the sound of breaking glass filled the warehouse. That insane bastard had jumped through the skylight and was plummeting through the air with two machine guns belching out bullets as fast as they could be fired.
Ian grabbed Hollis’s arm and squeezed for a second. Hollis’s heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
“Be safe,” Hollis said hoarsely.
“Always,” Ian murmured, and then he darted away into the darkness and thunder of gunfire.
Hollis had to pull his eyes away and force his attention to providing ample cover for Ian and Snow. All the drug dealers had turned their attack to the lunatic falling through the air on a nylon rope to the ground, missing the two men who were closing in on the staircase leading to the second-floor offices. Ian would be safe. Ian would come back to him in one piece.
* * *
Sliding around a large tower of crates, Ian ran as fast as he could while wearing the damn goggles. It wasn’t an easy thing. They were so heavy that they bounced on his head as he ran, forcing him to steady them with his free hand while gripping a gun in his other. None of this felt natural or normal, and for that he was grateful. He belonged in his freaking kitchen. Not in some drug den trying to rescue a guy who was trying to destroy his life.
Of course, Ian could argue that Snow had no business being there. He should be at the hospital, prepping for his next surgery. But that didn’t explain the big grin on his face as he reached Ian at the staircase. This was an adventure. And Ian was a part of it.
“You’re freaking insane,” Ian whispered with a laugh as Snow reached him at the bottom of the stairs.
“I think we’re all a little insane for doing this, but here we are,” Snow said as he passed by Ian and charged up the stairs ahead of him.
Ian’s step was lighter on the metal, making only a murmur of sound behind Snow’s pounding tread. They rose above the firefight on the ground floor, and Ian forced his thoughts away from Hollis and the rest of his family. He was only half listening to the chatter back and forth as his companions counted off the men they took down, whether by bullet or tranq dart. They were keeping a count, but the problem was that they had no idea how many people had been in the warehouse before they entered.
As they reached the second floor, Ian smiled at Snow, who looked over his shoulder to check on him. Before Snow could turn back, a man ran out of an open doorway and lifted his gun, pointing it directly at Snow. Ian didn’t think or speak. He launched himself into Snow’s stomach, slamming him against the wall, while Ian covered him with as much of his body as he could. He tensed, waiting to feel the bullet tear through his flesh, but it never came.
Behind him, a window broke and Ian opened his eyes to see the man who’d been aiming at them spin around as something unseen hit him in the chest and shoulder. He stumbled backward and went tumbling over the waist-high metal railing before plunging to the concrete floor below.
“You’re welcome,” Lucas said in a low drawl.
Snow groaned. “Never gonna let me live that down, right?”
“Nope.”
“Thank you,” Ian whispered, not caring that his voice was shaking. It had been too damn close. Snow’s arms briefly closed around him, hugging him. Snow’s voice might be calm and even bored, but Ian could feel his heart pounding like mad under his ear.
“Be careful,” Lucas admonished. “I think the target is in the room that fuck just came from. I’ve got no visual.”
“Got it,” Snow said evenly, releasing Ian.
The instructions were clear. The moment they stepped into that room, they were on their own. No more backup.
Ian followed Snow to the doorway the man had stepped out of to find two men in jeans and T-shirts shoving piles of money into what looked like two large overnight bags while holding their phone flashlights on their work. The lighting was horrible, but Ian could make out the angry and frantic expression twisting Carter’s…or rather, CJ Thorpe’s face.
From the doorway, Snow fired several rounds into the room. Ian was stunned to see that he was still using the tranq gun, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. Any bullets Snow put in, there was a good chance he’d have to take out later if they survived.
Both men shouted and grabbed their guns. But while one dove behind the desk for cover, Carter lunged for Max. He wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s neck and pulled his limp body up so that he was little more than a human shield. Ian’s heart skipped a beat to see Max’s seemingly lifeless body dangling in front of Carter. Max didn’t even flinch or cry out at the rough handling.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you ain’t getting out of here alive!” Carter shouted. He extended his gun past Max’s beaten and bruised face and fired into the open doorway. Ian and Snow pulled away. Ian prayed the walls were thicker than they appeared.
“We just want Max,” Ian called out when the bullets ceased for a moment.
“The whore?” There was no missing the surprise in Carter’s voice.
Ian clenched his teeth to hold in the torrent of angry words he longed to unleash. Max was more than what he’d been forced to do in order to survive. When he could speak evenly, he replied, “Give us Max and we’ll leave. No more trouble.”
“Who are you?”
Ian glanced at Snow and his friend was shaking his head fiercely, glaring at him in warning, but Ian ignored it. “Take the opening,” Ian whispered, and then he was moving around Snow’s larger body. He inched slowly into the doorway so that Carter would be able to at least make out the shape of him in the darkness that was only thinly cut by the bright moon. “You remember me, right? From Waffle House,” Ian said to Carter.
Carter lowered his gun a little and his mouth fell open in surprise. “Pretty boy? What was your name again?”
“Ian.”
“That’s right. Ian. What the fuck—”
“I came to pay you that five grand Max owes you.”
“Are you fucking shitting me? All this…you attack my house? My people? For this little whore?” Carter barked out an ugly laugh. “And you think five grand is gonna cover it. Oh, fuck no!”
“Ten grand,” Ian snapped. His damn palms were sweating so much, fingertips trembling in fear.
“Try again.”
“Fifty.”
“I had no idea he was such a great fuck,” Carter cackled and then suddenly stopped. “But try again.”
No matter what he offered, it wasn’t going to be enough. He knew that. He could only hope that Snow was ready. “No. Enough. We’re taking him.”
“Move now,” Snow whispered.
Ian dove for the opposite side of the open doorway at the same time as Carter jerked his gun upward. From the corner of his eye, Ian saw Snow slip from the other side of the doorway and fire two darts at Carter. The man shouted and managed to squeeze off. Ian rolled out of the way, but his eyes immediately came back to Snow. His friend gave him a quick thumbs up to prove that he was unharmed.
The firing sud
denly stopped, and they both peeked into the room to find Carter and Max collapsed on the floor, unconscious. They both charged into the room. Snow kicked the gun away from Carter’s limp fingers before they kneeled down next to a bloody Max sprawled across the floor. Were they too late? Had Ian just endangered the lives of his family and friends for nothing?
Max flinched and tried to curl up in a ball when Snow pressed his fingers to his throat to check for a pulse. Ian breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Even through the night-vision goggles, Ian could clearly see that Max’s face was horribly cut and swollen from the beating he’d suffered. Blood was splashed across his ragged clothes, and there was an ugly rattle in his breathing as he gasped for air against the pain.
“We’ve got the target. He’s alive,” Ian announced.
“But he’s in bad shape,” Snow added. “Watch the door while I check him over. I need to be sure that it’s safe to move him.”
“Not moving him isn’t exactly an option, Tin Man,” Rowe said over the earpiece, his sneer very evident in his words. “We need to hurry!”
Ian took up position in front of Max and Snow, making sure they were blocked by his body should anyone come through the open doorway.
“I’m not making him worse by moving him,” Snow snapped.
“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Gidget offered.
“Not yet—”
“Oh, darn it!” Gidget cried. “Lights in five seconds!”
Ian grabbed his goggles and ripped them off before he could be blinded. He could hear the others cursing the electric company for having their shit pulled together so fast.
Light suddenly glowed behind his eyelids and Ian blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to quickly adjust to the dim, dirty light of the room. The warehouse behind the doorway looked brighter, and he hoped his friends were adapting.
“Ian?”
Ian whipped around at the sound of Max’s surprised voice. The beaten man was staring at him through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
With more speed than he thought possible, Max grabbed the gun Snow had set down while he examined Max and pointed it at Ian’s chest. Snow straightened, pulling away from Max, while Ian took a step backward, holding both of his hands up. His damn back was to the doorway, making everyone in the room vulnerable to an intruder.
“What? Why are you here?” Max demanded. The nose of the gun trembled, but his finger was resting on the trigger, making it too damn dangerous for Snow to jerk the gun away. Ian wasn’t sure if it was Snow’s tranq gun or a real gun, but he really didn’t want to find out the hard way.
“We came to rescue you,” Ian said as gently as possible.
“Bullshit—”
“We don’t have time for this! My friends and I are risking our lives to save your ass. I’ll not have them die because you’re too busy being an idiot.”
Max’s busted lips parted in surprise, and Ian had to admit that it probably wasn’t the best approach when someone was holding a gun on him.
“But…why? I attacked you…burned your restaurant…”
“I know. You’re angry. You have a right to be angry. You shouldn’t have suffered alone for so long. I was lucky. I have people who helped me. Loved me.” Ian slowly lowered his empty hand and stretched it out to Max. “Let us help you now.”
“But…”
“No buts. Let me help.”
Ian held his breath as he waited for Max to decide whether his hatred of Ian outweighed his need for help. The seconds stretched, feeling like an eternity, before Max gave a jerky nod. He removed his finger from the trigger. Snow instantly jerked the gun away and seriously looked as if he were contemplating turning it on Max.
“Dorothy? Tin Man? What’s going on?” Rowe demanded.
“We’re good. Clear us an exit. We’re coming down,” Snow replied.
“Get moving, gang,” Gidget announced with new urgency. “A call just went in about gunshots.”
Ian listened with only half his attention as the men he’d invaded the warehouse with pulled back to the exit and prepared to cover his and Snow’s escape with Max. Lucas was already moving to pull the van around. The gunfire on the main floor of the warehouse had slowed and was now only the occasional pop.
Snow tucked his gun away and carefully pulled Max up to his feet before placing him across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Max moaned softly as Snow settled him. It was a good thing Max was roughly the same size as Ian. Snow made it look like he was hefting a rag doll. But he had to keep both hands on Max and the railing. He was completely dependent on Ian to keep them covered and safe as they descended to the first floor.
With a nod from Snow, Ian led the way out of the room, sweeping his gun from side to side as he watched for anyone who might be waiting to attack. The second floor was clear. Ian briskly led the way down the stairs to find Hollis already waiting for him with Rowe leaning against him, blood soaking Rowe’s left arm.
“You’ve been shot!” Ian cried as he reached the ground floor.
“Shhhh!” Rowe hushed, but it was already too late.
“Who? Who’s been shot?” Noah demanded.
“It’s just a little graze,” Rowe replied. “I’m fine.”
“It’s not a graze,” Snow growled. “I’ll take a look at it in the car.”
“I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Noah ranted. Rowe was going to be lucky if Noah didn’t shoot his other arm, he sounded so pissed.
They quickly made their way out of the warehouse with the rest of the team flanking them every step of the way. When they reached the main doors, they exploded outside to find Lucas waiting in the black SUV. Doors were pulled open and about half of them piled in while others started running toward where the rest of the vehicles had been stashed a few blocks away. Noah paused at the SUV for only a moment to glare at Rowe. With a shaky smile, Rowe placed his hand against Noah’s cheek.
“I’m fine, babe. I promise.”
And then Noah was gone without a word.
“Cops are en route. About two minutes away,” Gidget chimed in.
Ian climbed into the back seat next to Max while Snow and Rowe jumped into the middle row. Hollis was in the front seat next to Lucas, but he was keeping his eye on Max. Lucas sped away, and Ian started to breathe a sigh of relief.
They were less than a block away when there were a series of loud booms that sounded like they were coming from the warehouse. Ian twisted around to stare out the back window to see flames and smoke billowing from the large building.
“Rowan!” Lucas growled.
“What?” Rowe said and then hissed in pain as Snow worked on Rowe’s gunshot wound. “Quinn and Cole cooked up these new transmitters they wanted me to test out.”
“What was that? Dynamite?” Hollis asked.
Rowe snorted. “Dynamite. Really? No, that was C4.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You were running around the warehouse with fucking C4?” Lucas continued. “You could have blown us all up.”
“It was just a little C4,” Rowe mumbled softly, sounding so much like a scolded child. “It was just enough to distract the cops. No one in the building got hurt.”
“I can’t believe you took the flamethrower away from me, and he’s allowed to play with C4,” Garrett added, reminding them all that they were still wearing microphones and earpieces.
A hand landed on Ian’s arm, drawing his gaze back to Max who was staring at him with what kind of looked like confusion, but it was hard to tell with his face so battered and swollen.
“Why?”
It was the same question he’d asked in the warehouse. Ian got it. Max had threatened Ian’s life. Threatened his restaurant and employees. Anyone else would have left Max to be brutalized and killed by those men.
But Ian also knew the kind of life Max had suffered already at the hands of Jagger. He knew he was there partially out of guilt. He felt guilty for not saving Max so many years ago, for not looking for him sooner.
“Because you’re more than the life you’ve been living,” Ian said softly. “You’re more than what Jagger forced you to be and do. I want to help you get a second chance. But you have to want that second chance too.”
Max nodded gingerly, tears starting to fill his eyes. “I do. I don’t want this. I’ve…I’ve been so lost. I don’t know what to do…”
Ian carefully wrapped his arm around Max’s shoulders and pulled him in close. “I know. You’re not alone anymore. I’ve got you.”
“We’ve got you,” Hollis added from the front seat, bringing a teary smile to Ian’s lips.
Snow’s head turned and he stared at Max for a moment before giving a little nod. “Yes. We’ve got you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Less than forty-eight hours later, Ian glanced into the back seat to find Max staring out the window, his narrow features pensive as he tapped out some kind of rhythm on his thigh with his fingers. He was in for a bad time with withdrawals, but he seemed more than willing to go through it. He would just need a helping hand. He’d already started showing symptoms with nausea, tremors, runny nose, and more. Ian had sat up with him the night before, and it had been awful. The violent mood swings were threatening to get worse, and Max needed more help than Ian and Hollis could provide alone.
Light-brown eyes met his, and Ian was struck again by how much they resembled each other, though Max was thinner and had lighter hair. Ian’s heart broke to think about how small and helpless he’d been with Jagger. How fucking young.
“Thank you again for doing this,” Max said softly. “Especially after everything I did to you.”
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