The man grinned, splitting his face into a terrifying visage, and a chuckle fell from his lips. “You’re a smart girl. I do need you. But I don’t need your friend back there.” Maya turned, her eyes widening at the sight of Meg standing in the living room doorway with a large kitchen knife. “So how about you come with me now,” the man said. “Or I shoot your friend.”
“Meg! Run!” Maya turned and moved fast, but not fast enough. She felt something hard impact the back of her head and her feet give away beneath her as the world went black.
When the world came back, it was in shades of gray. Maya blinked and squinted, trying to get her eyes to focus and color to come back. Just as the world sharpened, the earth moved underneath her and she went sliding across the floor. Crap! How long was she out? Seconds, minutes? Long enough to move her to wherever this was.
Her eyes snapped into focus and she realized that the gray across from her was literally gray—the gunmetal polished hues inside a van. It turned another corner and her shoulder slammed painfully into the wall behind her. She tried to move her hands to brace, but they wouldn’t come. She tugged at them hard, but all she succeeded in doing was causing a new pain to ripple across her arms from her wrists. Oh, God. She was in a fucking van! Her head thumped dully and the back of her head felt warm. Restrained and heading God knows where with a gun-wielding lunatic. Who was he and whose side was he on? Were there even sides? She had no idea if, in the end, the SAC had been working with the club her brother had infiltrated or against them. Where they all aligned with the Dixie Mafia? Maybe there was a fourth player; maybe this guy was even FBI. She clamped her mouth shut, holding back a yelp as another jolt hit her body from the road. She was keeping her mouth shut until she had more information.
Maya stayed quiet, and as still as she could, for the rest of the journey. She was still somewhere in Monroe, at least she thought so. Their trip had been longer than a few minutes, but not more than a half hour, and she didn’t think she’d been out for long. Keeping track of time had been difficult in between playing dead and trying to talk herself down from being scared out of her mind. She tried to think what Jesse would do in this situation. He would stay calm and keep himself safe. Fuck—he was completely insane, too, doing this for a living. How the hell did anyone handle it? She’d never had a gun pointed at her before, but now she didn’t know which was more terrifying—the gun or having no clue and no control over what happened next.
A few minutes later, the van slowed, then stopped, pulling in behind an old building. She took in another deep breath and prepared to play dead, but when the back door opened, she couldn’t do it. No way could she lie there and wait for it. Her eyes flew open, catching the face of the gunman from Promise House, the snarling grin still affixed to his face. By the badges decorating the leather vest he was wearing—a cut—and the colors on it, he was the president of the club Jesse had been investigating.
“Ahh, you’re awake,” he said. “Good girl. Boss man is going to want to talk to you.” He picked her up by her elbow and half carried, half dragged her inside an old building. It was a warehouse, or a converted one, as far as she could tell, extended with shipping containers added on to the building.
“Nice place,” she grit out as he dragged her through a door to the ordinary part of the building.
The man patted the side of the container. “They’re cheap,” he said. “Plus, practically bullet proof. Small rounds, anyway.” He grinned again and this time it sent shivers down to her core.
“Ahh, here she is. My insurance policy.” A voice echoed through the room and a man stepped forward. Another person she didn’t recognize. Her gaze flew around the room. It appeared to be only her, the new asshole, and Smiling Dude, who was currently adding to the pressure on her wrists with his thick hands. “Tell me, Maya”—she jolted a little at the sound of her name and smiling man chuckled behind her—“how much do you know about me?”
She forced her face to go blank. “Nothing. I don’t even know who you are.”
He tsked. “Now, isn’t that unfortunate. I was hoping we could start our relationship with a little trust, tit for tat. You tell me what I want to know, I let you live.” He smiled, too, but his was different—entirely cold and cruel. The pressure on her wrists eased as the other man stepped away from her. He grabbed a box and shoved it over to her position, then pushed down hard on her shoulders until she sat. A shiver ran through her. She was now forced to look up if she wanted to look the new guy in the eye, which she supposed was entirely the point. “So let’s try this again, Maya Graves. I know who you are; you clearly know who I am. There’s been far too many searches on my organization and myself in the last forty-eight hours for my liking. Searches coming from law enforcement, plus I heard a couple of things down the wire.” His gaze hardened. “I have friends in town. You’d do well to remember that.”
“I swear, I don’t know who you are.” She really didn’t, though dressed in a suit and hair slicked back, he wasn’t part of the biker gang. She looked up at his hardening gaze. By the way he’d taken charge over an incredibly dangerous man, a man who’d just kidnapped her, she had one guess. Mafia.
The man nodded at President Smiles, who still stood behind her, and her head was jerked back suddenly, her hair tight in his grasp. Maya’s eyes watered, but he didn’t let go until the man standing in front of her nodded again.
“My name is Moby,” he said. “And just like my namesake, many have tried to take me down.” His face tightened, but his smile remained, stretching tightly over his skin. “You, Miss Graves, are merely the most recent person to try. You’ll find out soon enough that if you persist, then I’ll drag you down right along with me.” He shrugged. “Or, you could tell me what you know and we can go our separate ways into happy, fulfilling lives.” He pinned his gaze on her, eliciting another round of shivers. “I hear you have someone special to go home to. Someone who would miss you very much should you go ‘missing.’ Even a hero firefighter won’t be able to save you then.”
Just how long had this fucker been watching her? The thought chilled her to her core. The last two days? Longer? Had he seen Jesse? The car outside her motel room—the black sedan. Her stomach rolled and pitched and something in her chest tingled until it was hard to draw breath. Holy crap. If they knew Jesse was alive, then it was all over. He’d just been toying with her. If they knew that, there was no way she was walking out of there alive. It was time to play ball; or at least pretend to and find out what they knew. Even if it was over for her, perhaps she could still keep Jesse’s secret and save him and her friends. And Seth. Her heart ached at the thought. At least she’d gotten to experience the most wonderful week of her life before she’d reached the end. She closed her eyes and prayed to anyone who was listening for just a little more time. A little more time to feel his touch, to tell him she loved him, to kiss his lips, and to make love with him one more time.
“Time’s up, Miss Graves.” She opened her eyes and her heart jolted again at the sight of a new gun pointed at her—a center-mass shot this time. Her heart was going to give out before they got anywhere if she didn’t calm the fuck down.
“Okay, okay!” she said. Her hands instinctively tried to fly up to cover her face and she tipped sideways as they jerked in the restraints. Maybe if her hands were free, she’d have some kind of chance. “I’ll tell you what I know, if you promise to leave everyone else alone.”
His hands spread wide. “That’s all I ask, Miss Graves. I am a legitimate businessman, after all. Let’s chat, and then you can leave and go back to your life. Of course, I’ll be sticking around in Monroe for a while, too. Just to make sure you’re keeping your word.” He stepped forward, until the barrel of the gun pressed against her chest. His voice dropped, almost to a growl. “Now, talk.”
Step one, if she was going to have even a chance of getting out of here alive. “First, a little show of faith that you’ll keep your word, too.” She tugged at the restraints behind her back
. “Release my hands.”
“Got plans, do you, Little Girl?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What am I going to do? You’re two big, strong men and I’m just me. Plus you have more than just that gun, I’m guessing.” There was the grin again, the one that made her every nerve creep with disgust. The man looked over again at his friend behind her and nodded sharply. Did they ever speak to each other? Probably not. If you were part of the Dixie Mafia, then you probably didn’t have to do much more than raise one eyebrow for someone to do your dirty work for you.
A quiet snick reached her ears and then more pressure at her wrists, before it suddenly gave way. Her hands fell to her sides and she brought them up in front of her, rubbing at the reddened skin at her wrists. A pair of thick plastic zip ties flew over her shoulder and landed in front of her on the ground. Moby picked them up and shoved them in his pocket. “No metal handcuffs with pesky keys required,” he said, gesturing with the gun. “Ain’t technology wonderful.” His hands moved again and the gun returned to point squarely at her chest. “Now, let’s talk about a different type of technology. What did you find online that exposed me?”
“A photo.” She gasped, flinching as his hand came up to grasp her neck.
He leaned in, his voice dropping again but no less intense. “And what was in the image?”
Maya squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her mind to remember, despite the shake in her fingers. Her hands formed into fists as the memory floated in front of her closed eyes. The face had been younger then—much younger, but there was no mistaking that smile. “You,” she said, her voice finally breaking and trembling. “You were there, in the background of the aftermath of the raid. Talking to Bill Miller.”
“Ahh, our friend Special Agent Miller. I heard of his sudden demise. How sad for his family.” Maya’s teeth clenched together so hard it hurt her jaw as she forced herself not to respond. “Now, my dear. Have you told anyone else about this connection that you imagine you found?”
She couldn’t help it. A snort escaped. Fuck it. If she was going down—and Maya was sure now she was—then she’d do it standing, not sitting there cowering in front of a madman. She pushed to her feet. “Everyone,” she said. “Everyone knows, so go ahead and kill me. You’re still completely screwed.”
Moby’s face mottled and his hand clenched tighter around the gun, his finger edging toward the trigger. “You stupid girl!” he yelled, his voice booming. “You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut like a good little whore!” He planted his feet wide, bringing the gun directly in line with her body. Maya closed her eyes and waited.
Boom!
But it wasn’t the gun. Instead, it was the sound of the warehouse door being slammed open, followed by a voice calling out. “Maya! Shut the hell up and run!”
Her gaze swung around wildly to the front door and her knees almost gave way at the sight. “Special Agent Graves,” Moby’s voice sounded behind her and she spun again, her head dizzy. His eyes were widened, his nostrils flaring as his muscles shook. “I should have known you’d escape. You always were a slippery little shit. Not this time.”
Moby’s arm swung wide and the gun moved from her to point directly at Jesse. Maya panicked, pushing out at whatever part of him she could reach.
Another boom.
She dropped to her knees.
Knees.
It was as if the fire that had been burning for months, ever since the agents appeared on her parent’s front door step, suddenly raged into an inferno. Maya pushed out at Moby’s knees. They buckled. Not enough to send him sprawling, but enough to make him drop the gun.
Scrambling, she got there first.
32
Seth
Seth looked out over the swirling lights surrounding the warehouse. They were set back, though if anyone gave him a chance, he’d slip through the line first chance he got. Dean and Matt were the only reason he hadn’t jumped the wooden barrier. Seconds after the text with Maya’s bleeding face had come in, Liam’s phone had rung. Mason and Dean had just arrived at Promise House and found Meg—unhurt but restrained and lying in the storeroom. Seth had immediately called Scott. They must have missed the bastards by only minutes, or one of Meg’s residents would have stumbled across her before they did. Five minutes later, Dean and Mason had pulled up at their location in separate cars. Liam jumped in with Mason, who assured him he’d called Shane, the company’s paramedic, to stay with Meg until the ambulance arrived while they played fetch. Mason sped Liam home and Seth had waited with Dean. Matt arrived shortly. As much as he was jumping out of his skin knowing what Maya was going through, Seth was glad to have the whole squad with him, or with Meg and Liam. Together, they just might get through this.
Dean had taken all of two minutes to listen to what had happened before calling the one person in the FBI Seth would still trust: Special Agent Hemmings, the man who had rescued Amy and Dean from human traffickers. He’d gotten a bird in the air to track Seth’s truck, and along with the LoJack from Scott, it hadn’t taken long to find them. A converted warehouse, just out of town, and well known to authorities. The biker asshole’s clubhouse.
Men in black riot gear swarmed in front of him—the FBI Atlanta field office’s SWAT team. Thank God the place had been under a different SAC in the months since Jesse’s “death,” Bill Miller being transferred after the entire debacle. Perhaps the issue had been having an agent under him who was apparently dirty, or had something else more sinister been going on higher up? Either way, the presence of the SWAT team here went a long way to rebuilding Seth’s trust in the locals. He could only hope Jesse felt the same way. Seth’s pickup had been found in the parking lot when the cops had arrived, the keys still dangling from the ignition. If they’d missed Jesse, it had been by only minutes, just like the guys arriving minutes too late for Meg and Maya.
God, Maya.
Something between rage and grief squeezed at his heart. What if he never got the chance to tell her he loved her? Was the brief kiss they’d shared in Meg’s front room earlier that day doomed to be the last time he touched her? Seth dismissed the thought. That couldn’t happen. He simply wouldn’t let it be so.
Movement from the black-clad special-ops men caught his eye—hand signals. “They’re going in,” he whispered to Matt, who clamped a hand on his shoulder. Seth’s legs twitched. Right now, that hand felt like the only thing keeping him in place.
“Negative on the target,” a crackling voice said over the speaker attached to the shoulder of the cop standing nearby. He was probably an attempt by Scott to stop Seth from storming the scene. The cop turned toward them as he took a step forward and Seth eyed his hand. It was resting on his belt, but a little too close to his holstered gun for Seth’s liking. Though, that was the only thing that was going to stop him from climbing over the barrier at this point, when SWAT started fast-shuffling toward the building.
Then a gunshot rang out from inside the building, and even the patrolman’s gun wasn’t going to stop him any longer. Seth moved fast, making it past the barrier and halfway to where SWAT was storming the building before Scott’s hands encircled his waist, pulling him to a stop. “So help me, Seth. Don’t make me handcuff you to my cruiser.”
Only the fact they’d been friends for over twenty years kept Seth from taking a swing at him. He was still struggling in his grasp when Matt arrived a few seconds later. He took one glance at Scott and then moved to stand in front of them both, his bulk forcing Seth’s gaze to his.
“Cool your jets, Rookie. You’re not going to do Maya any good if you get yourself arrested before she gets out of there.” His eyebrows rose as the big man leaned forward, placing a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “She’s going to need you, and you better be in one piece when she does.” Matt grinned. “Don’t give Scott here a reason to put a hole in you.”
Maya. Matt was right. As much as it was killing Seth to stand there and watch what was going down, it was nothing compared to what Maya must be going through
inside. He had no idea who had fired the shot that had rung out, or if anyone had been hurt, but it didn’t matter. This had been about Maya in the beginning and he’d make sure he was there to see it through to the end for her, too. Then he’d be there for whatever happened after that.
Seth’s muscles relaxed just enough for Scott to let him go. He turned, not moving closer, but his eyes never left the building. He watched Hemmings, along with other agents, follow SWAT into the building. The callout for the EMT nearly had his heart beating out of his chest, but still he stood there, forcing his feet to stay still. Finally, after what felt like a million years, Hemmings reappeared and gestured at Seth, waving him through the police barrier. Then his feet couldn’t move fast enough, despite the fact that his mind was racing even faster at what he would find inside.
He’d barely cleared the warehouse door when something impacted his chest with a small oomph. His brain still hadn’t caught up, but his body recognized the smaller one wrapped around his all the same, his arms coming around Maya’s shaking frame and holding her tightly to him. Her cheeks were wet, but when she looked up at him, she was smiling. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered, before leaning down and taking her mouth.
He should hold back, Seth knew it, but he couldn’t make himself slow down. His lips crashed down on hers as his tongue licked at her lips, sweeping into her mouth and tangling with hers. Fuck, she tasted so sweet. It was something he was never going to get enough of, ever. As a low moan left her, Seth kissed her again and then pulled back, his hands staying anchored around her. If he had his way, he wasn’t letting her go for a damn long time. “Maya. God. I love you. I fucking love you. Please don’t ever do that to me again.”
Trial by Fire (Southern Heat Book 4) Page 19