by Katie Reus
Chapter 9
—Kicking ass and breaking shit; what Marines do best.—
Weapon tucked into a hidden holster under his leather jacket, Gage strode up to the front door of the one-story cottage-style house in Coconut Grove. White paint was chipping off the shutters, but the dark blue of the rest of the house looked as if it had been painted recently. The grass was cut and the flowerbeds in front of the small porch were perfectly neat. And there were tons of palm trees and other lush foliage in the front yard, along the side of the house and in the back. Good for privacy—but it was a double-edged sword because it was easier to infiltrate a place like this.
This place could belong to anyone—and according to the search he’d done, it belonged to an eighty-year-old woman who’d been born and raised in Miami. And according to one of her social media profiles, she was visiting her daughter in Omaha for a month. So no one should be here. The grass had been cut recently so she might have a service.
Didn’t matter. Since he knew that a communication from the penthouse had gone to this address they had to check it out. If the older woman did answer he would pretend to be lost and ask for directions to a neighboring street with a similar name.
He knocked once and heard the faintest scuffing sound inside. Could be a pet, but he doubted it. Dogs or cats didn’t try to be quiet, and if the woman was out of town she wouldn’t have left a pet home. He knocked again and called out, “Mrs. Clark?”
There was another scuffling sound and he saw one of the curtains to his left flutter at the window. He glanced at his watch, looking bored in case anyone was watching. He called out her name again. When he got nothing, he took a step back.
“Someone’s inside,” he murmured to Leighton and Brooks who were on the other end of the comm line.
“I’ve got eyes on the back door. I can’t hear anything from here,” Brooks said quietly.
“I’m at the side window, east side of the house. Only one window is completely covered with aluminum foil.”
Interesting.
“Mrs. Clark, it’s John,” he called out again. “I’m here about the vintage car you said you wanted to sell.” He looked at his watch again. When he did, the door opened up.
A white man in his early thirties kept the door open, blocking it partially with his body.
Gage stepped forward and smiled. “I’m here about the car—”
“My aunt isn’t selling it anymore.”
“Oh, well I’ve been out of town for a month. Last time we talked she was looking to unload it.” He took another step closer, held out his hand. “I’m John, by the way. I didn’t realize she had a nephew.”
“I’m inside,” Brooks murmured through the comms.
The man just grunted, but didn’t hold out his hand. Gage heard a thud at the same time the man did. When the guy turned, Gage reached for his own weapon and drew his leg back.
He slammed his boot into the door at the same time he pulled his pistol free. The man flew back as the door crashed open. His pistol clattered to the floor so Gage kicked it away even as he aimed his own on the man. “Don’t fucking move,” he ordered. “Got the guy at the front door,” he continued, talking to his guys. God, some days he really missed being in the Marines.
“Got the other in the kitchen. He’s restrained,” Brooks said.
“And I’ve got the woman. She’s scared but unharmed.” Leighton.
Talk about a smooth operation. This was the way things should always go. As if they should be so lucky. “Put your hands above your head then roll over. I’m going to cuff you and if you fight me, you’ll regret it.”
“I have rights man! I demand to call my—”
Gage kicked the man’s knee with his steel-toed boot. “I’m not a cop, dumbass. And you kidnapped a woman. I’ve got no pity for you. So shut up and do what I say. Now,” he added when the man paused.
Less than a minute later Gage and Brooks had the two men sitting on the couch, hands tied behind their backs and their feet bound. He’d already taken their wallets and scanned their fingerprints. Neither had IDs on them but their fingerprints wouldn’t lie.
“What is that thing?” The one sitting to the right—the white guy—asked.
The Hispanic man Brooks had taken down hadn’t spoken at all.
Both had similar tattoos on their forearms, letting him know they belonged to the same gang or some sort of organization. One clearly not based on race. He took a photograph of the tattoos, planning to run them later.
Gage looked up from the mobile fingerprint scanner and set it down on the dusty armoire by the wall. What the hell did the guy think it was? “It’s going to tell me exactly who you two are and all your affiliations if you have police records.”
Both men’s jaws tightened. Okay, so they were definitely in the system. Good.
Gage glanced at Brooks. “I need you to contact Sierra.” Their code name for Savage.
Brooks nodded, gave the two men dark looks and stepped out of the room. Gage waited until he heard his friend shut the back door before turning to the men.
“This is how it’s going to go. I’m going to ask questions, you’re going to answer me. If you don’t or if you lie, everyone in your life will pay. You got a woman you care for? Or a man—they’ll pay for your crimes. I’ll rip their life apart in a way that hurts. It’s clear by now we’re not cops or Feds. And we care very little about the law.” Not exactly true, but he needed to make sure they were all on the same page. And he needed these men afraid of him. Sure, he could threaten torture, but that didn’t always work. Hell, it rarely did. Unless done right. Gage wasn’t into that shit—and they didn’t have the time.
“You don’t scare us.” White Guy spoke again, clearly the chatty one of the two.
He lifted a shoulder. “I hacked my first website when I was eleven. It was my school’s system. After that it was a game to see what I could get into. Which is why…” He picked up the scanner at the soft beep and half-smiled at the information that popped up on the small screen.
He quickly read off their stats including their names, aliases, significant others, known addresses and known associates. When he was done, both men had paled considerably.
“You two mean nothing to me. I just want information. But if I find out you hurt the woman in the kitchen, however—”
“We didn’t!” White Guy again, and the Hispanic guy was nodding along with him.
“Good. If she says the same, then you might get out of this unscathed. What about the woman who owns this place?”
The speaker—Kenneth—spoke quickly. “We never met her or did anything to her. She’s out of town for a month. The guy who hired us said it’d be fine to keep the other lady here if we lay low and didn’t let any neighbors see us. And the two houses on either side are for sale. Empty. He wanted a place not connected to anyone.”
Okay, that was believable given the area. They’d be able to lie low. And Gage had checked the owner’s Facebook page an hour ago. It looked as if she was having fun with her daughter in Omaha. “Since you’re being honest, it seems like we’re off to a good start. Like I said, I don’t care about you two morons. I want to know everything about the man you’re working for, Kyle Neely. Otherwise, I’m going to bury everyone you love. Age and gender mean nothing to my men.” A complete lie, but he needed full honesty and he needed it fast. In his experience most people caved quickly under the threat of torture or pain. There were exceptions of course, especially those tied to hardcore gangs or Spec Ops people, but guys like this? They’d give him what he wanted.
Fifteen minutes later he had everything he needed from them—and a confirmation from Martina Cruz that they hadn’t assaulted or otherwise hurt her—so he, Brooks and Leighton marched them to their waiting SUV.
Both men had outstanding warrants so they were going to deliver them to the Miami PD anonymously.
“Make a stop at the nearest dollar store,” Gage said to Brooks as he steered out of the neighborhood.
“Why?”
“I want to grab a couple bright red bows. It’s going to be an early Christmas for the locals.”
From the back seat, for the first time in ages, Leighton laughed, the sound harsh and rusty. “You want to deliver them with a bow.”
And if Gage could pull a laugh from his friend—who refused to tell anyone why he was so withdrawn since coming home—hell yeah. Today was a good day. They’d saved a woman and Olivia could go back to her life.
* * *
There was nowhere for Olivia to hide as the office door swung open. She wanted to collapse in relief as Savage stepped in. “It’s done. Everything’s erased for the last forty-eight hours.”
“Good.” She turned back to the open door of the safe and quickly wiped off the front of it to get rid of her prints then tugged her glove back on.
Savage was already moving, putting stacks of cash and bagged gems into her purse. It took them thirty seconds working together to clean it out.
Palms damp inside her gloves, her heart an erratic tattoo against her chest, she jumped to her feet when they were done.
“We head out the exit door at the end of the hallway,” Savage said.
Shaky and a little clammy, she nodded and moved with him to the office doorway. He cracked it a fraction and she heard murmured voices.
Shit.
“We have to make a break for it,” he said low enough for her ears only. “You’re going to slip out first and I’ll be right behind you. Don’t slow down.” He took the bulging purse from her and looped it over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
Bracing for what they had to do, she stepped out into the hall, only glancing to the right once to see the father and daughter both looking shocked to see her. Without pause she raced the other way, her boots pounding against the thin carpet. Her legs strained and blood rushed in her ears. Not loud enough to cover the “Hey!” from behind them.
The exit door was so close. Four, three, two—
She slammed her hands into the metal bar even as the alarm blared. Either from the door opening or the owners setting it off. Didn’t much matter. Now the race was on. The cops were being called.
The bright sunlight blinded her for a moment as they raced outside.
“This way.” Savage grabbed her hand, tugging her west so they were heading toward the back of the string of shops. “There’s a parking garage I think we can get to from here.”
She could see the four-story building he was talking about as they ran. Risking a glance behind them, she wasn’t surprised that no one was following. The owners wouldn’t chase after them—because she and Savage could be armed. But they had a very small window before the police arrived and started a grid search for them.
Despite the cool weather and the breeze from the nearby marina, sweat poured down her spine and pooled between her breasts.
They raced past the backs of various shops and a restaurant, slowing down when they neared the end of the strip.
“We need to walk casually,” Savage said as they stepped out onto a sidewalk. “Fast but casual.”
“You know how to hot-wire a car?” she asked as they headed north now. The parking garage was so close. One more left at the next four-way stop and they should be there.
A siren blared in the distance, sending her heart rate skyrocketing. Savage didn’t seem affected by it at all, his body language smooth and efficient.
“Yes. Left here,” he said, though she knew where they were going at this point.
They fell in with the flow of the light foot traffic, weaving around an elderly couple even as a police car raced by the parallel street, blue lights flashing.
Without giving the vehicle a second look, she and Savage picked up their pace as they reached the garage.
“I know how to hot-wire too,” she said once they stepped into the concrete stairwell. If they had to split up and look for a vehicle, she had no problem doing that. The faster they got out of here, the better.
As if he read her mind, he said, “We stick together. If they decide to put up roadblocks, we’ve got about eight minutes before that happens.”
She knew the cops didn’t always pull out the stops for a robbery, but depending on the crime, it was a very real possibility. What they’d just done was bold too. The diamonds they’d taken had to be worth at least two million. Not to mention the cash.
And she felt like garbage for having it at all.
Savage stopped at the second floor, pushed the metal door open. He glanced around, nodded once then grabbed her hand again.
She linked her fingers through his as they hurried up the nearest ramp. In twenty seconds he’d picked a four-door car at least fifteen years old, and in another sixty seconds they were at the first floor exit. After putting a twenty-dollar bill in the machine, the yellow lever lifted and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Olivia sucked in a long breath. They were almost home free. For now.
“We should be good,” Savage said, making a sharp left. The opposite direction from the jewelry store. “I’m…” He paused, then said, “You’re sure?”
“What?” she asked.
“Talking to Brooks,” he said, pointing to his ear.
She blinked, but realized he must have some sort of earpiece in. She had no idea how he’d gotten one, however, since they’d decided against using them.
“Martina’s alive and okay. They’re taking her back to the safe house.”
“Wh— You’re serious?”
He nodded even though she knew that yes, of course he was. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.
Olivia wanted to talk to her, but knew they should get out of here first. “Tell her we’ll be there soon.”
“She knows.” Savage reached out, squeezed her hand once. “You’re going to be okay now.”
Throat tight, she simply nodded and pulled her wig off. She absently finger combed it as she tried to digest that it was over. This mess was finally over. She wasn’t sure how they were going to deal with Kyle overall, but at least her daughter and Martina were safe. “Thank you,” she rasped out as a police car tore past them, thankfully not pausing.
He just grunted, which wasn’t much of a surprise.
She didn’t care. Soon she’d see Martina and then they could be reunited with Valencia. Her daughter and her dear friend were safe and sound.
Chapter 10
—Sometimes the best things in life, you never see coming.—
From the open kitchen of the safe house, Savage watched as Olivia sat on the living room couch with Martina, talking quietly and wiping away tears. Just from this visual it was clear how much the woman meant to her. Martina was a lot younger than he’d thought she’d be, in her mid-forties maybe. Olivia was barely thirty, so if Martina had started nannying for her when she was in her twenties, the age fit.
He told himself to look away from Olivia but it was hard to. Hell, impossible. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but something about her compelled him, pulled him to her. And since they’d shared that kiss, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. She’d made the sexiest little sounds as she’d arched her body against his. She hadn’t been acting or pretending either.
He sure hadn’t. No, he’d wanted to take her right up against the nearest flat surface, to bury his face between her legs and see if she tasted as sweet as he imagined. Now the scent of vanilla would always remind him of her.
Which was why it was just as well that this job was over. Or at least her part in it was. He needed some distance from her.
“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?”
He turned at the sound of Gage’s frustrated voice. “What?”
Gage glanced past him at the women, then focused on Zac again. “We’re going to have to break into the security place that houses the backup security for the jewelry store.”
He nodded once. “I know.” They’d already talked about it, so why was Gage bringing that up now?
�
��She’s Skye’s friend,” Gage said quietly, taking him off guard.
Zac wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know who Gage was talking about. “I know.”
“And she comes to visit Redemption Harbor a lot.”
“Why are you telling me obvious shit?” He might not have met her until a couple days ago but he’d heard of her and her daughter, knew how often they were out at the ranch.
Gage just lifted a shoulder and opened his mouth to say more when his phone buzzed across the granite countertop. He glanced at it once, frowned. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Just got a ping that someone emailed Olivia.”
Gage had been monitoring all her online accounts and her phone in case Neely reached out to her. After they’d escaped with the money and diamonds, they’d come to the safe house—and he’d made sure they weren’t followed.
Next he and the others planned to go after Neely personally and make sure he was locked up forever. If that didn’t work, Zac would do what needed to be done. He didn’t relish the thought, and that wasn’t what their company was about, but he was going to keep Olivia and her daughter safe no matter what.
“Hell,” Gage muttered.
All the hairs on Zac’s neck stood on end. Before he could ask what, Gage turned the laptop to him. The email was from an unknown sender. He read the text, his stomach tightening.
You think you’re so clever. You might have your friend, but I still own you. Job’s still on. You work with me, or this ends up in the right hands.
Below the text was a video feed. He clicked on it—and wanted to smash his fist through the screen.
There were various feeds from the jewelry store playing, including shots of him and Olivia. He’d seen where the cameras were and had avoided looking up. Olivia had too. Except in two shots, he realized. When they were leaving the office and as they left the building. That was the crystal clear image of her face. Even with the glasses and wig on, the shot of her was good. “Damn it,” he muttered. “I erased those feeds.”