Finn handed Harvey the Beretta and a handful of ammunition. “Don’t shoot the ladies.” He slung the rifle on his back.
There was a cry from downstairs and Brent went for the door. Finn grabbed him. “Softly,” he whispered. “Let’s not prove the assholes from ERT correct, OK?”
Finn was right. He nodded. “How many bad guys?” he asked Harvey in a low whisper.
“I’ve seen three but heard two more since they stuffed me upstairs. I’m rich, which is why I’m still alive. I’m the backup plan.”
“Where are they keeping Katherine and Anna?”
“Katherine was in here with me until about fifteen minutes ago. They came and took her downstairs when the others arrived.” Harvey’s eye was swollen shut—from the look of his face, he’d tried to stop them and failed. “I didn’t see her daughter.”
People could do a lot of harm in fifteen minutes.
Brent eased onto the landing, keeping below the solid oak stair rail. They knew one guy was watching the back door. Downstairs was pretty much open-plan, except for the laundry room. There was a heated conversation going on that he couldn’t make out. Finn tapped his shoulder to tell him something when someone opened the bedroom door behind them.
CHAPTER 17
Fuck.
The guy was blinking sleep out of his eyes, which gave them a split-second advantage. Finn caught him in a headlock, smothering any sound the guy made with his hands and arms, driving him smoothly back into the room. Brent and Harvey swept in behind and closed the door quietly behind them.
“Keep lookout,” he murmured to Harvey, who nodded and cracked the door, peering out.
The big guy slumped in Finn’s arms, sagging to his knees, unconscious. Finn hoisted him onto the bed. “We need to tie him up.”
They were in Brent’s bedroom so he grabbed the SIG Sauer out of a secret panel in a false beam. Finn raised his brows. “I didn’t see that.”
“Me neither,” murmured Harvey appreciatively.
“Got any duct tape in there?” Finn asked.
“No, some in my studio though. Want me to get it?”
Finn shook his head. “Ties? Belts?”
Brent went over to his wardrobe that was mainly full of worn jeans, board shorts, and faded T-shirts. He pulled three ties from next to a tailored jacket he’d worn for his parole hearing. The clock was ticking. Anna was in danger. He grabbed a pair of woolen socks from his top drawer and stuffed them in the guy’s mouth and secured it tightly with the first tie. Finn bound the wrists together and Brent took the ankles, tying the shoelaces in a knot for good measure. Brent grabbed a couple of leather belts and they trussed him across the bed and attached him to the bed legs.
“How long will he be out?” Brent asked.
“Not long enough,” Finn answered.
“Shit.” Brent did not want this guy to start to bang around up here and raise the alarm.
“I’ll watch him.” Harvey came to stand beside them. They all kept their voices barely a whisper. “I’ll keep him covered and shoot anyone who comes to find him. It would be my pleasure.”
“Just make sure they aren’t cops,” Brent said. “And if cops turn up or if someone throws a flash bang in here, you put the gun down and stick those hands as high in the air as they go.”
With his luck Brent would get an RCMP bullet through the skull, although he wasn’t sure it would be termed “friendly fire.”
“Cops’ll be here soon,” Finn agreed. He turned to Brent. “I can’t get a clear shot from inside. I’m going to take the rifle outside and find a position where I can see the living room. You sit tight. Only interfere if Anna or her mom are in imminent danger, and whatever you do, keep the fuck out of the line of fire.” And then he was gone. Brent nodded to Harvey and slipped out after him.
There was a gunshot from downstairs, and Brent’s blood turned to ice. Maybe he was already too late.
Anna came awake in a pile of limbs on the floor, her head feeling like it had been cracked open like a raw egg. Her vision was blurred, but she realized her mom was snuggled up beside her. Slowly everything clicked back into place. Like why she was lying on the floor wearing only an open shirt, a tattered bra, panties, and socks.
She sat up, woozy and unbalanced. She gripped her mom’s hand and tried to loosen her ties so she’d be more comfortable, but her mom seemed out of it, as if she’d been drugged or had just given up. The men at the kitchen counter flicked her a glance, but ignored her as no real threat. And really, she wasn’t. She couldn’t even see straight and her head pounded.
The men were whispering. She strained to hear.
“What’s the name associated with those accounts?” Rand asked.
“Plantain. Ed Plantain.” The geeky guy shot her another glance. But she concentrated on her mother’s eyes and willed her to come out of the fog. She watched the men out of her peripheral vision.
“So he set Davis up?”
The accountant’s brow’s rose. “I don’t know, but yeah, it looks like it. Sly bastard.” What did that mean? “It’ll take me thirty seconds to move our money back…” His hands hovered over buttons and then he frowned. “Hmmm. I think someone’s onto us.” The guy tapped faster and then grinned. “They locked down one of the accounts, but I’ve moved the rest. And,” he said archly, “we are all cosigners on each other’s accounts, so let’s not think about getting rid of anyone else.”
Anna eyed the dead man on the floor. One of their own. Murdered. God.
“Browning was a liability.” Rand was chillingly reasonable for such a cold-blooded killer. “Get Kudrow. We’re gone in ten minutes.” They both looked at her and her mom huddled on the floor. “I’ve got a little unfinished business with the schoolteacher.”
Ten minutes. Well, at least it would be fast.
Her throat was tight, but she had something she really needed to know. Something more important than his plans for her.
“What did you mean? Who set Davis up?”
Rand’s lip twitched. He nudged her mom with his foot as she lay almost comatose on the floor. “Seems your stepfather set your dad up so he could be there to pick up the pieces for your sweet mama. That’s a lot of trouble to go to for some ass. Bet you’re glad now I shot the fucker.”
Her mom’s eyes widened infinitesimally, but she didn’t meet her gaze. Anna’s mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Her dad had been innocent. Everything he’d ever said had been true, but no one had believed him—except Brent.
Oh, Jesus. It was awful. She’d let him down, thanks to that creep Ed. Her heart crumbled inside her chest, that they’d hurt him that way. Her mother would never forgive herself. Anna would never forgive herself. But if she wanted to survive the next ten minutes, she needed to do something drastic and that didn’t involve going off to la-la land like her mom. Anger surged through her body.
Rand grabbed her wrist, his iron grip bruising flesh as he hauled her to her feet.
She fought him, stumbled forward. “Let go of me!” Despite the pain, she twisted and jerked against his hold, his fingers biting ruthlessly into her skin. She grabbed at the heavy couch but struggled to find purchase in the thick navy fabric. Her nail tore and she bit down on a scream. He had a hundred pounds of pure muscle on her, but she refused to let go. Coming to a halt, Rand gave a savage jerk and almost pulled her arm out of its socket. She cried out and he laughed. Tears burned her eyes, but she wasn’t about to let them fall.
She wasn’t going to let him destroy her. She’d rather he shot her than raped her, so pissing him off didn’t matter. It was all going to hurt. She certainly wasn’t going to curl into a fetal ball and give up.
At the bottom of the stairs, she hooked her flexed foot on the end rail and refused to budge. The hard edge of the gleaming wood cut into her ankle. She gave a silent scream as the agony of being violently stretched tore through her. Rather than the pain, she concentrated on not letting go. If she could slow him down, maybe he wouldn’t have time to finish wha
t he started. Maybe a miracle would happen and she’d be rescued. For a long time she hadn’t believed in miracles, but right now she was willing to give one a chance.
Rand let out a furious bellow and heaved her sideways. She crashed into the opposite wall, screaming with shock and frustration. He gave a satisfied growl as he dragged her up the torturous risers. Every step raked the fresh bruises on her body until she writhed in agony, every hard edge inflicting new injuries as he unceremoniously yanked her along like a sack of flour. Her flexed feet caught against the edge of the last stair and she dug down hard as he swore with anger and frustration. He was going to hurt her anyway, so she had nothing to lose. Which brought another shocking realization. The life she’d made for herself in Minneapolis meant nothing anymore. She wanted Brent—not just to save her, but to love her.
God, could the secret of happiness be that easy?
Brent didn’t want a live-in lover. But so what? She could change his mind, or they could keep separate homes. She’d travel a lot. She could even teach in Canada, and move back to the island. For the first time in her life, Anna wanted to fight for a man. For a life with someone. And he might not go for it—hell, he was stubborn—but he’d already admitted he cared. Something unfurled inside her chest. From a man like Brent Carver, “care” was tantamount to a full-on proposal.
“Let. Go. Of. The. Fucking. Step. Bitch.” Rand jerked her forward, anger penetrating that emotionless gaze for the first time. She yelped as he freed her from the step and she plowed straight into the wall. She caught a sharp blow to the nose, which made her eyes sting. Dammit. Rand looked amused. He dragged her across Brent’s highly polished floors. Frantically she flailed around, but there was nothing left to grab on to. The monster was going to rape her and then he was going to kill her. Then he was going to kill her mother, and chances were Brent would find their bodies when he came home.
Damn it! That was almost the worst thing of all.
She staggered to her feet and launched herself at him, scratching at his face. A ridiculous amount of pride surged through her when she connected and blood bloomed on a scratch across his left eye. He slapped her and her ears rang. She tried to knee him in the balls but he controlled her easily, every attempt to hurt him fueling his amusement and the homicidal gleam in his eye. She hated his smug smile, wanted to rip that smirk off his ugly face. He shoved her into the bedroom she’d used when she’d stayed here last week. Her suitcase was open at the bottom of the bed. She slapped him in the face and he punched her in the mouth, a sledgehammer of force knocking every thought except pain from her body. She landed stunned on the bed. Tasted blood.
“Don’t bother moving, honey. It’ll just be a waste of energy.” Then he closed the door and grabbed her ankle.
Katherine’s mind was shrieking in silent agony. Ed had set up Davis? Davis had been innocent? All this time. All these years. Pain banded her stomach and she wanted to roll into a ball and scream. But Anna was being dragged upstairs and her daughter needed her now more than ever. Dear Lord, how she’d let that child down. Let Davis down. Been nothing but a poor excuse as a wife and parent. She dragged herself across the floor to the body of the man she’d assumed was the boss. The fact they’d shot him so callously suggested she’d been wrong about that too. Her hands throbbed with pain. Her feet were in agony. How could Ed do that? Huge sobs wanted to engulf her but she forced them back. And even though it was only the word of these evil men, she knew it was true because suddenly her whole life made sense.
Was Ed really dead? She couldn’t believe it. It turned all her anger upside down and inside out, although she would never have been able to forgive him.
The guy tapping keys was mumbling to himself. Sitting behind the enormous kitchen island, he couldn’t see her where she lay on the floor. And the man dragging Anna didn’t consider her a threat because she hadn’t been. She’d been useless. But now the only person who mattered to her was in danger, and she didn’t care if she died saving her—she was going to save her.
She found what she was looking for even as she heard Anna cry out again. The dead man had a small penknife on his keychain. She grasped the keys in numb fingers and sawed at the plastic holding her feet together. They snapped apart and she held her breath at the noise, but the man just kept typing. Probably stealing his friends’ money, she thought bitterly.
She maneuvered the keys upside down between her palms and found an angle to attack the thin white plastic. It took longer, but after about twenty seconds of frantic movement, the cuff snapped. Pain rushed through her extremities along with an awful utter silence. The man on the keyboard had stopped typing. Her heart thumped. She lunged for the dead guy’s gun, still strapped to his leg, but found herself face-to-face with a shiny silver revolver.
“I don’t think so, lady,” he said.
“Why are you doing this to us? You could just walk out the door,” she implored. “Take the money and run.”
He snorted. “And have Rand, Kudrow, and Vic after me for the rest of my life? No thanks.” He cocked the gun and Katherine closed her eyes. So angry with herself for failing Anna. Angry with Ed, even angry with Davis. She tilted her chin and drew in a last breath. And then came a gunshot, followed by the instantaneous crash of the enormous windowpanes, glass shattering everywhere. She opened her eyes as the man who’d threatened to kill her toppled over. The other man, Kudrow, came running into the room as she ducked behind the kitchen island, grabbing the computer nerd’s revolver with fingers that were suddenly steady. Another shot, and a man’s dying grunt as a bullet smashed into flesh. And then there was a man she didn’t recognize with a rifle at her side, helping her up, half pushing her out the back door. “Go. Run,” he said.
“My daughter!” she cried, dropping the gun.
The stranger’s eyes hit the stairs. “You first. Go!”
She grabbed his arm. “There’s a man called Harvey too. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“Harvey’s fine. I saw him earlier. Let’s get you out of here.”
He’d heard the sonofabitch drag Anna upstairs. Her cries of pain ricocheted inside his brain and exploded like deadly shrapnel. He’d wanted to step in so bad that forcing himself to simply stand here behind his bedroom door almost stopped his heart. But he also knew the bastard was holding a gun and until he put it down, Brent couldn’t risk a confrontation.
In approximately thirty seconds, that gun would be the last thing on the fucker’s mind.
He had to wait for the advantage, but that advantage put Anna in ever greater danger and the thought of that bastard touching her clawed at him with frenzy.
He heard Anna smack him, and the return punch and her scream of agony.
His nails bit into the wooden frame of the door. Five more seconds.
Brent had known rage before. Childhood rage when his mother walked away and left them with their father. Adolescent rage every time his dad used Finn like a punching bag for his pleasure. Adult rage in prison when someone tried to demean or degrade him because they thought they had the right.
Nothing compared to the white-hot anger that sang like fire through his veins and obliterated all thought, all feeling, and all memory.
He walked swiftly out of his bedroom and into hers. The bastard was poised over her, one hand clasping both of hers above her head, the other ripping off her panties.
Brent took the slack off the trigger.
“No!” Anna cried.
What?
“Don’t kill him. He’s not worth going back to jail.”
He dropped his jaw. Did she really think he gave a fuck about prison right now?
The guy’s hand started to reach for the pistol on the nightstand. “Move another inch and I’ll blow your head off,” Brent told him. Christ, he wanted to damage him. Wanted to stick a bullet right between his eyes for daring to hurt Anna.
The hand stopped moving. Instead the guy rolled to his feet, but took Anna with him so she was a human shield. Fuck
ing, fucking fuck.
Anna’s eyes beseeched him with apology.
Damn, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t just shot the fucker on the bed, but the bullet might have hit Anna too and he couldn’t risk it. There was a massive crash of glass downstairs. Shots fired. Brent smiled grimly. They were at a standoff. They all listened for the running feet of a swathe of cops, but nothing happened. Brent knew it was Finn, but this guy must be wondering what the hell was going on.
Brent kept his eyes on the soulless black gaze and his gun didn’t waver. Anna’s eyes were huge green pools of what should have been terror but looked a hell of a lot softer than that. She smiled at him and his heart threatened to blow. God, he loved her.
“Let her go and I’ll tell you how to get out of here without the cops seeing you,” Brent offered.
The eyes flickered.
“I don’t give a shit about anything except Anna.” Brent edged closer to the door. “There’s a trapdoor in the roof. You get to it through a hatch in the next bedroom.” Brent tilted his head.
The guy kept eyeing his handgun. Brent braced himself just in case he decided to dive for it. He didn’t want to risk shooting Anna, but the guy could not get that firearm or else they’d both be dead.
“Put the gun down or I’ll break her neck.” The bastard changed the angle of his grip. It was no idle threat. The way he moved his hands to exactly the right spot proved he’d done it before. Probably too many times to count.
“He’ll break my neck anyway. Don’t let him escape, Brent. You already stopped him from raping me.” A firestorm of relief swept over him, but they were still in deep shit. Anna was struggling to breathe as she balanced on tiptoes, clutching at the guy’s hips. “Rand here deserves to spend his life in prison. You’re the good guy.”
She was bleeding and naked except for a flapping shirt and she was trying to make him feel better? He wanted to snarl but didn’t dare let his attention shift for even a second. In his peripheral vision, he saw a movement in the trees outside. A shadow that didn’t belong. Brent moved so he wasn’t in the line of fire and prayed like he’d never prayed in his entire goddamned life.
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