Remy shook his head. “You know I can’t. Go take care of Mya. I can handle Ava on my own.”
David swore. When Ava was around, Remy didn’t think clearly. It was the same reaction David had with Mya. He couldn’t leave Remy alone. Not even for a second. Because that’s all Ava would need.
“I’m not leaving,” David said, settling into the chair with his phone. “But I’ll see if Mya can stay with Greyson for a few days. She won’t even mind. All she talks about now is Jenna and Greyson and how adorable they are together.” He snorted.
Remy nodded absently and continued pacing.
“Hey,” David greeted when Greyson answered the phone. “Would you mind if Mya stayed with you for a few nights?”
“Is everything okay?” Greyson asked, his rapid breath loud in the earpiece.
“Please tell me you’re working in the garden.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Never mind. I’ll swing by soon with Mya.”
“She’s already here.”
“She’s there?”
“Jenna wanted Mya’s advice on redecorating a few bedrooms.”
David breathed a little easier. At least with a project to occupy her, she wouldn’t put up much of a fuss if she had to stay over at Greyson’s. The fact that she adored Jenna was helpful too.
“Why don’t you come over and stay for dinner,” Greyson suggested. “Bring Remy too. One of your old friends is staying here. You can catch up.”
“Who?”
“Ava Hunt.”
David flicked a glance at Remy, who was absorbed in his wall. “Really? She’s staying with you?” David didn’t know how he kept his voice steady. He felt as if Remy’s anvil fist had sucker punched him.
“Jenna talked her into being our guinea pig for a couple of weeks until we open the bed and breakfast.”
“I’m sure you didn’t have to twist her arm,” David stated.
Why was she there? What game was she playing?
“Not at all. So, do you want to come for dinner?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there. Soon.” David ended the call and stood to leave.
Remy glanced over. “What’s up?”
“Greyson needs a little help. I’m going to swing by his place. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“Mya can’t pack in an hour or two.”
“There’s been a change of plans,” David said.
“Care to tell me about it?” Remy asked, his tone suspicious.
David unlocked the warehouse door. “No.” Slamming the door behind him, David stalked to his car and slid in. He reached under his seat and ripped his gun from the Velcro strap.
Damn that bitch to hell!
* * *
After a leisurely lunch made by a chef she swore must be magical, Ava found herself on the lounge chair again. She really must stop this. Between the food and the idleness, she was as lazy as a sated cat curled up in a sunny window. She didn’t even know where her gun was. Most likely in her room. Not smart, she knew, but it wasn’t like she needed it. She never used it anyway. Men lowered their guard with her, especially if she was unarmed. How could an unarmed woman harm anyone?
Whoever underestimated her always learned the hard way.
She sighed contently and shifted, settling comfortably until hard metal jabbed against her temple. A gun. But it wasn’t Brock who wielded it. She had always known when he was near.
Ava slowly opened her eyes to find David glaring at her, his face pinched into a scowl. He shoved the metal barrel at her harder.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger,” he snarled.
“It’s been a long time, David.” Ava said, making sure to keep still. If she was going to make a move, it’d be when she had the best chance. “How have you been?”
“Do you think this is a joke?” He backed away a few short steps, keeping his aim true.
“Not at all. Just trying to be polite.”
“Give me one good reason,” he repeated. The ice that filled his voice matched his eyes.
“You used to shoot first and ask questions later,” she said, knowing she was pushing his limits. “I see you’ve matured . . . a little.”
“Answer!”
Ava smiled. “All right. Would you care to sit? These chairs are like clouds.”
A bullet ripped past her ear and into the chair, sending a cloud of stuffing into the air.
Well, that was a sad waste. Ava closed her eyes, letting the ringing that deafened her ears subside.
“Your temper is dreadful,” she said, irritated that she had flinched. She held still, knowing the chair was going to find itself with a few more holes and she didn’t want to get in the way. “Brock used to have the temper. Remember? Or should I call him Remy now?”
Another bullet whizzed past, nicking the side of her arm before lodging into the chair. She felt blood trickle down, but she held still. David was a skilled shooter. He meant to make her bleed. She knew the next bullet would find a bigger mark, but it wouldn’t be a deadly blow. Not yet. However, she really didn’t want to bleed any more than she was.
The patio door whipped open. Jenna, Mya, and Greyson poured out, simultaneously asking questions. Ava didn’t hear any of it. She shook her head to alleviate the continuous ringing.
“Get back into the house!” David barked.
“Oh, Ava, you’re bleeding!” Mya squeaked, hurrying around David to get a closer look. She gasped. “David Miller, did you shoot Ava?”
“Not yet,” he growled. “Get back inside.”
“I will not!” she declared, stomping her foot for emphasis. Her mouth turned into a petulant child’s pout.
“David . . .” Greyson hedged, scooting Jenna behind him. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t think shooting our first guest will—”
“You said a friend was here,” David interrupted. “Ava is no friend. She’s a killer, and she sent Remy to hell. She’s a traitor.” He pointed the gun at her knee. “Aren’t you?”
Ava held her tongue.
“Don’t you dare shoot that gun,” Mya said, her normally big blue eyes squinted into a glare.
“This is between Ava and me,” David snapped. “Get inside or I’ll carry you in myself.”
“Then you’ll have to carry me,” Mya said, suddenly smiling.
David groaned, knowing very well he couldn’t carry his wife indoors and keep his gun aimed at Ava.
Jenna peeked around Greyson. “Why don’t we take a moment and regroup? I don’t know what happened in the past, but Ava has been wonderful. And Mya is stressed. That’s not good for the baby.”
David’s eyes softened slightly, but his gun was still on target.
Ava stayed quiet, knowing if she uttered one word a bullet would shatter her kneecap. She didn’t come here to fight with David or his family — he had to know that. But she’d ignited his protective instincts, and she’d do well to back off for the moment.
But only for a moment.
“Tell me why you came here,” he demanded.
Ava studied him, wondering if she should tell him the truth. No, she wouldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t understand.
Her words were for Brock alone.
* * *
Remy watched the patio from the third floor of Greyson’s mansion, clutching the window frame with white knuckles. Damn David for not telling him. As soon as David left the warehouse, Remy had followed in his cramped rental car. He already missed his Caddy. He’d barely kept up with David in the tin-can compact.
When David turned onto Greyson’s private drive, Remy had held back, wondering why he’d come here first.
Now he understood.
Thankfully, Remy knew the layout of the property from when he was Greyson’s bodyguard and driver. He knew all the security codes, and it was easy enough to enter without being detected.
He watched as David lowered his gun, aiming at Ava’s leg. David wasn’t a cut-throat assassin. Remy knew Ava’s life
wasn’t in danger. Not that he cared about her, but he didn’t want David carrying that burden. After all the missions he’d been on, David had enough burdens to last a few lifetimes.
Remy watched as Mya, Jenna, and Greyson fled the house and tried to reason with David. He could hear the angry words through the window. But Ava never moved. She didn’t try to defend herself. She just sat there.
Waiting.
Remy knew what that meant. He knew she was up to no good. As soon as David turned his head, she’d go on the defensive. Thankfully, her gun was in her room. She would return for it.
Remy flicked his eyes to her gun resting on the nightstand. Why wasn’t she carrying it? Did she really think they wouldn’t find her here? And, why was she here?
He felt so turned around, so perplexed that he wanted to plow his fist through the wall.
He was done trying to solve the puzzle. He never much liked strategy games, and he hated the way his gut twisted every time he thought of Ava. It was time to end this cat and mouse chase. He would wait for her here where there’d be no prying eyes.
No witnesses.
It ends now.
Chapter 4
Ava was finally tired of sitting on her beloved lounge chair on the sunny patio. It now had two bullet holes and blood stains. David wanted information, and she wasn’t going to give it. They were at an impasse. The others tried to reason with him, but it was only making matters worse. While he curbed his volatile anger, it only made him more stubborn and determined not to budge.
“Do you mind if I get up?” Ava asked. The nick on her arm had stopped bleeding, but she could really use a warm washcloth and a change of clothes.
“Yes, I mind!” David barked.
“This is getting ridiculous,” Greyson said. “We’ve been out here for twenty minutes. Put your gun down. She’s unarmed.”
David laughed. “All you see is a woman, don’t you?”
“An injured woman,” Greyson said.
Ava watched as David composed himself, still aiming the gun. His arm had to ache with fatigue. She would target that arm first.
“You don’t understand,” David hissed. “As soon as I lower my guard, she’ll attack. You’ll be unconscious or dead within a matter of seconds.”
Ava hid her smile. She was good, but not nearly that good. If she was, this dreary conversation would’ve been over with long ago.
David’s arm twitched. That was the signal she’d been waiting for.
Ava sprung from the chair, grabbing David’s fatigued wrist to push the gun away. She dug a knuckle into a tender spot in his muscle. As he gripped her with his other arm, trying to stop her, she used his momentum against him to swing behind, tugging his arm up behind him. She kicked the back of his knees, sending him to the ground. As he fell, her elbow came down, giving him a hard blow to the back of his neck. He sprawled face-first onto the patio.
Ava turned to find three aghast faces gawking at her.
“He’ll wake up in twenty minutes,” Ava said, skirting the patio to stay as far away from the trio as possible. She wasn’t afraid of them, but she didn’t want anyone to try to pull a heroic stunt. “Give him something for his headache after he throws up.”
“Ava—” Greyson started.
“Don’t!” Ava shouted as she neared the door. “I’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want to hurt you. Just let me get my things, and you’ll never see me again.”
When no one protested or moved, Ava dashed inside and up the two flights of stairs to her room. A nagging feeling warned her away from the room, but she ignored it. It was probably just her amped-up adrenaline. If it had just been her clothes she’d left in the room, she would have left right away.
Her original thought was to hold the Millers until Brock made his appearance, but it was a large mansion with a dozen staff members. She knew her limitations. Plus, she really didn’t want to hurt anyone. The only person she was after was Brock.
Ava reached for the doorknob to her room, but before she was even able to grip it, the door flung open.
Brock grabbed her arms, whipped her into the room and slammed the door closed. Ava scurried away, searching for her gun. Brock was the one person she couldn’t use physical force against. She had tried many times in training. Not once could she take him down.
“Looking for something?” he asked, locking the door. When his hard gaze fell on her, she nearly buckled. She remembered him so vividly, like it had been only moments before when he held her in his arms. But something about him had changed. Something was different.
She had known this moment was coming; she had planned for it. It wasn’t exactly how she had imagined it . . . or planned it. And now that he was a few feet away from her, unyielding as steel, she couldn’t understand why her heart was tripping and sputtering just like it had when they first met, when he first pinned her on the mat.
“You have nerve coming here after what you did,” Brock said through a clenched jaw. “Why did you come?”
He took a menacing step toward her. The room was too small to escape, and Brock still had the door blocked. But she wasn’t here to escape. This is what she came for. He just caught her by surprise.
Ava hurried to the opposite side of the double bed, knowing he could easily reach her with one swipe of his arm. But it was still a blockade. She didn’t have many options in the small room.
Jenna had wanted her to stay in one of the larger rooms, but they were all so frilly and ornate that she felt uncomfortable. This bedroom had been plain, simple, and perfect. Not so perfect anymore.
“Brock—”
“Brock is dead,” he snarled. “He’s dead just like the rest of the men you betrayed!”
Ava felt the cut of those words. It was nothing that she hadn’t told herself a million times since that day. But coming from Brock, a man she wasn’t sure she recognized anymore, the words cut.
Had coming here been a mistake?
No, she had to make him understand. She had to try.
“I need your help,” she began.
“My help?” he questioned incredulously. He stepped closer, the bed becoming a smaller barrier. “I knew you were a traitor, a murderer, but you must be crazy too!”
Ava flinched but kept her ground. “Just listen to me.”
“No. You listen to me! I came here for one thing, and I’m not leaving until I get it.”
“What?” Ava asked cautiously.
Brock clenched his hands into fists as a war played out across his face. He finally released his hands and stared at her. “A signed confession. I want you behind bars for the rest of your life.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected.
“A signed confession,” she repeated. She shook her head. “I can’t. Not right now. Not until—”
Brock lunged for her, ensnaring her arms and yanking her across the bed. His face was inches from hers as his grip tightened, cutting off circulation.
“You will write a confession,” he ordered, his dark-brown eyes boring into hers.
“No.”
Brock shook her once. His growl filled the room. “Don’t push me.”
His anger fueled Ava’s. She wrenched from his grip and leapt back. “Don’t push me,” she countered.
Ava skimmed the wall, hoping to stay out of Brock’s wide reach and escape through the door. She had to rethink her plan. It was obvious Brock was in no frame of mind to listen to her. All he wanted was a confession. She wouldn’t be able to reason with him.
Brock watched her movements. She suspected he already knew where she was headed. He wasn’t some lughead who only used his muscles for brains.
Before Ava could reach the door, he snatched her back, tossing her onto the bed.
“You’re not leaving until I have your confession.”
She looked up at him as he closed in. He stared down at her. For a brief moment, his eyes roamed. Emotion flashed across his face but was quickly erased.
She had never thought he’d want her the first time around; would she be allowed a second chance?
No.
There was no trust left. Only anger.
But she saw enough in his expression to know she could distract him for a moment. That’s all she would need.
* * *
Remy was tired. He realized it as soon as he laid his hands on Ava. Something shifted in him. He was tired of being angry. Tired of watching his back. Tired of the guilt and lies. Tired of the constant ache.
When he told Ava he wanted a signed confession, he meant it. He just wanted her behind bars, to serve her time. It’d never make up for what she had done, but it was the right thing to do. He’d never have to lay eyes on her again.
At one time, Remy had wanted to be both judge and jury, to take justice. Sometimes he still had that urge.
But the law could have her.
Just looking down at her on the bed, memories ignited. Her long, toned body curled defensively, waiting for his next move. Her sandy brown eyes studied him, searching for a signal.
It was torture being in the same room with her again. He wondered how he could still be affected by her. He was weak when it came to Ava.
Remy had to get out of there; he had to distance himself. By the glint in her eye, he knew she could read his thoughts. All it would take was for her to reach for him the way she used to, to press her body against his; he would fall all over again.
He had not anticipated this.
Remy shook himself and stepped back. He had to talk to David . . . if the idiot was conscious.
“Where are you going?” Ava asked nervously as Remy retreated to the door, never turning his back on her.
“Don’t come near the door unless you want to get shot.” He stepped out of the room and swung the door closed. He pulled out his gun and shot the latch, imprisoning Ava in her room. The only way out was the window. He doubted even Ava would be able to scale three floors without gear.
My Traitor Page 3