Unraveled (The Untangled Series Book 1)

by Ivy Layne

  I won't lie. I was grateful to be away from Tsepov, away from those hands and that hood. I wanted to go home and take a shower. A long, hot shower. I wanted clothes. A lot of them. I wanted every inch of my skin clean and behind thick layers of fabric.

  I didn't want any of that without Evers.

  "When are you going to get him back?" I demanded. "Don't tell me you're going to let them keep him. Tell me you have a plan."

  "We have a plan," Cooper confirmed. "We're meeting with the FBI in two hours. At Rycroft. Evers has a tracking device built into his clothes."

  "What if they find it?" I interrupted.

  Griffen gave me a gentle smile. "He has more than one. I guarantee you they won't find them all."

  "So, you'll figure out where they have him, and you'll go in and get him?"

  "Something like that. Trust me, Evers can get out of almost any restraint. If these guys were more sophisticated, a different kind of criminal, I might worry," Griffen said, "but he'll be okay. If he can't, at least we'll know where he is."

  I didn't share Griffen's confidence. "I don't like this. He shouldn't have done it."

  "We couldn't talk him out of it," Cooper said in a flat voice. "He was determined. I hope you're worth it."

  Cooper's words stung. Not because I thought he was right to doubt me. I was worth it. I knew I was. I was worth it because I loved Evers. I loved him more than anything. More than my father. More than myself.

  If I'd had any idea what his plan was I never would have let him go through with it. What good was my freedom if he was a captive?

  No, Cooper's words stung because I never had the chance to tell him I loved him. All those days I wanted to, and I couldn't get the words out, my fear holding me back. Now he was gone, at the mercy of the man who'd shot my father so carelessly. Easily.

  That man had Evers, and Evers didn't know I loved him.

  A hot tear streaked down my cheek. I brushed it away with the back of my hand, furious with myself.

  "Hey, we're going to bring him home," Lucas said, his green eyes serious and kind. "I swear to you, we're going to bring him home."

  I stared out the window in silence, watching the road flash by. Suddenly realizing I never asked, I said, "Is my dad alive? He got shot, didn't he?"

  Cooper answered. "He's in intensive care. In surgery, last I heard. Aiden's with him. I think he called your mother, said she was on her way."

  "Do they think he's going to make it?"

  I didn't think I wanted to know the answer.

  I was right.

  "It's hard to say," Cooper said gently. "His chances aren't great. He lost a lot of blood by the time he got to the hospital. Do you want us to take you to see him?"

  I thought about that. Did I? I should. I should be waiting in the hospital for him to come out of surgery.

  I shook my head. "No. I'm not going anywhere until Evers comes home."

  Cooper's eyes lit with approval for the first time. He didn't say anything, just gave a brisk nod and turned his attention back to the road.

  Tsepov had Evers. That was as much my father's fault as the rest of it. There was nothing I could do for my dad now. His life was in the doctor's hands. There wasn't much I could do for Evers either, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Rycroft, of missing the meeting with the FBI.

  I couldn't stand not knowing what was happening, not knowing how close he was to coming home. If I went to the hospital, I'd be out of the loop. An afterthought. That wasn't going to happen.

  Rycroft Castle was oddly silent when we arrived. Aside from the cook, the staff had been turned away for the day. Cynthia, Clint, Angie, and Viggo were restricted to their rooms, under guard until the situation with Tsepov stabilized.

  Griffen pointed me at the hall that led to my room. "I'm going to ask the cook to make breakfast. Do you need any help getting cleaned up? Do you want me to get Cynthia? Or Angie?"

  "No. I'm okay. I won't be long."

  I couldn't say anything else. I knew Griffen was worried, and I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted a hot shower.

  The water stung the skin at my wrists and ankles where the zip ties had been pulled tight. I turned it as hot as I could stand and let it stream over me.

  Everything was wrong.

  Everything was upside down.

  I'd known Evers would save me. I'd believed it with every cell in my body and every part of my heart. Never in all that hope and faith had I imagined he'd save me by sacrificing himself.

  I was going to kick his ass when he came home, kick it so hard he'd never do something that stupid again. I scrubbed my skin three times, shaved, and washed and conditioned my hair.

  When I was done, I still didn't feel clean. The stain was on the inside, and no amount of soap could wash it away.

  I was exhausted and hungry and still scared out of my mind. Another half-hour under the hot water wasn't going to fix any of that. Food might. It couldn't hurt.

  I combed my hair and pulled it into a loose bun at the nape of my neck. Remembering the FBI was coming, I took a few minutes to swipe on some mascara and eyeliner. We were going to get Evers back, and when I saw him, I didn't want to look like a puffy, weeping mess.

  I was strong. I had my shit together. I'd survived, and I was not going to fall apart now. I stood in front of my closet, thinking. My dresses reminded me too much of my discarded nightgown.

  I knew I was safe. I knew no one in this house would touch me in a way I didn't want, and yet I couldn't bear to feel so uncovered. I couldn't wear the robe all day either. Not without convincing everyone that I was very much not okay.

  If they thought I was going to fall apart, they'd stash me in my room under guard like the others, and I'd be cut off from what was happening with Evers.

  I ended up pulling on a navy maxi dress and white cardigan. The cardigan was too warm for July in Atlanta, but the AC in the house made it almost acceptable. I'd have preferred jeans, but I hadn't brought any. At least the maxi dress covered me from shoulders to ankles. It wasn't my most flattering outfit, but it wasn't horrible, and it made me feel safe. That was the best I could do for now.

  The FBI had joined Lucas, Cooper, and Griffen at the dining room table.

  A tall, lanky man with kind eyes rose to shake my hand when I entered the room.

  "I'm agent Holley. It's good to see you safe and well," he said. "We're going to get Evers home as soon as possible."

  "Thank you," I murmured as I took my seat. Holley introduced the two agents with him. Their names floated in and out of my brain, my nerves wound too tight for good manners.

  I nodded in their direction, quickly getting lost as everyone else resumed their discussion of Tsepov and the case they were building against him.

  None of them mentioned my father, and for that I was grateful. I was aware that if my dad survived, he was probably going to jail. I had no doubt Cooper had recorded my dad's confession in their safe room.

  The cook brought me a plate and a steaming cup of coffee a few minutes after I seated myself at the table. I ate, trying to follow the conversation. Griffen leaned over and whispered, "We picked up Evers' signal. We know where they're holding him, and his vital signs are good."

  "How do you know his vitals?" I whispered back.

  Griffen winked at me. "Oh, we've got lots of toys."

  "I bet you do," I murmured.

  I ate mechanically, reassured only slightly by the calm assurance of the FBI, Cooper, Lucas, and Griffen. Cooper's anger at me seemed to have faded now that he knew Evers was okay.

  Despite his façade, I knew he wasn't as confident as he wanted me to believe. He tapped his finger on the table in a fast beat, the same way he had when he'd been on the brink of torturing my father in the safe room.

  Cooper might look calm. Inside, he was anything but. If Cooper was that on edge, getting Evers back wasn't the sure thing they were pretending it was.

  They had a plan. Kind of. I'm no expert, but it sounded
to me like most of the plan boiled down to waiting around for Evers to make a move.

  I didn't like that.

  I liked the storm the house and get Evers out kind of plan. I didn't want to wait. I'd spent half the night waiting. I wanted Evers home. Now.

  It sounded like I wasn't going to get my wish.

  Cooper pushed his chair back from the table. "So, that's it. We'll hit the office, then meet you at the rendezvous, get in position."

  "Sounds good," agent Holley said, also standing. The two agents he brought with him stood as well. To me, he said, "Miss Winters, it was nice to meet you. Hopefully, the next time will be under better circumstances."

  Considering the next time would probably be when he arrested my father, I didn't think so. I managed a smile. "Nice to meet you, too. You're going to bring Evers home?"

  "We're going to do everything we can," he reassured me.

  Cooper rounded the table and stopped by my chair. Laying a heavy hand on my shoulder, he looked down into my eyes. "We'll bring him home. I promise."

  I started to push my chair back, saying, "I want to come with you."

  Every man in the room said, "No," their voices overlapping in a chorus of male affront and exasperation.

  Cooper's hand on my shoulder became an iron clamp holding me in place. "Not happening. You'd be in the way."

  "Charlie is coming over," Lucas said from across the table. "I figured you wouldn't want to wait on your own, and she's too keyed up to work. She'll be here in a few minutes, and she'll probably be starving. You two can keep each other company because there is no fucking way you're coming with us."

  I wanted to argue, but I kept my mouth shut. I wasn't going to win against so much opposition, especially when they were right. I would be in the way. I just hated the idea of sitting around eating biscuits and scrambled eggs when Evers was in danger. When he'd put himself there for me.

  I stared down at my plate. "Fine."

  Cooper gave my shoulder a squeeze and then a pat. "Just hang in there. Evers knows what he's doing."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Evers

  I had no idea what I was doing.

  My plan was simple.

  Trade me for Summer.

  Get Summer somewhere safe.

  Then get free, go after Tsepov, and alert the team it was time to move.

  The first part was easy.

  The rest was anything but.

  They checked me for weapons and electronics. A wire, GPS tracker, anything that could give them away or come back to bite them in the ass. They found two of the tiny GPS trackers sewn into my clothes.

  I wasn't wearing a wire, but they searched. Thoroughly. I couldn't help but imagine them searching Summer the same way. The thought of it made my blood boil.

  I'd never had a problem keeping my head on the job. Summer was fucking with that big time.

  She was safe, with my brothers and out of danger.

  That should have been enough.

  It wasn't.

  I wouldn't be able to settle down until I saw her with my own eyes. Not a glimpse of her, hooded and in a torn nightgown. I needed to hold her in my arms, to look into her eyes and see all the way to her heart. I needed to know she was okay, know this disaster hadn't left permanent scars.

  I'd never find out if I didn't get out of this fucking room. So far, they'd searched me, hogtied me, and left me in a room on the second floor of Tsepov's temporary headquarters. It might have been the same room where they'd held Summer. I imagined I caught a faint trace of her lemon and flowers shampoo on the bedspread.

  They hadn't bothered with a hood, shoving me face down in the back seat so I couldn't see where we were going. I got a glimpse of the neighborhood as the garage door closed behind us. Tightly packed McMansions on a cul-de-sac. Not exactly hidden away. Andrei Tsepov didn't do subtle.

  Now that the first part of the plan was out of the way, on to the next step. Getting free. It had been a while since someone had restrained me, but in my line of business, it pays to be prepared. I could pick a set of handcuffs behind my back and break through zip tie cuffs in a flash.

  They'd had a stroke of luck with that indestructible chair at Rycroft, especially considering the way they'd strapped me down, but they hadn't been as thorough here.

  They'd used zip ties to secure my hands behind my back, then more to strap them to my ankles. Once that was done, they'd wrapped the whole mess with duct tape and waltzed out of the room thinking I wasn't a threat.

  They were wrong about that. And they were wrong in thinking that a few zip ties and some duct tape would keep me immobilized.

  First on the agenda, strip off the duct tape.

  Duct tape is a funny thing. It's strong in its own way but designed to be torn easily. Ironically, the more expensive the brand of duct tape, the easier it is to tear a strip off the roll, making it very handy for jobs around the house but not a great option for securing someone's hands together.

  Only people who watched too many movies thought duct tape worked like handcuffs. Fucking amateurs. Sergey Tsepov's crew never would have made this kind of mistake. Had Sergey's guys walked away when his far less competent nephew took over? That was a question for another day.

  A little twisting and tugging on my wrists and I had a short tear in the tape. Once the duct tape was split, it was simply a matter of working at it until it fell apart. Strip by strip, I uncovered my wrists, then my ankles.

  A few minutes later, I was surrounded by shreds of silver duct tape, leaving me the zip ties to deal with. There are a few ways to break out of zip ties, and I'm an expert in all of them. All of the methods boil down to one of two things: manipulating the connector of the zip tie or breaking the plastic itself.

  I hadn't been able to do either when I was strapped to the chair at Rycroft. Not enough leverage to break the plastic, and my fingers had been too far from the ties to reach the connector. Here, hogtied on a bed, I had all the access I needed.

  They'd been smart enough to trim the ends off the ties. If they'd left them, I could have bent them back, shoved them under the tab that held the zip tie closed, and stripped them open. It was a little harder to do with my fingernails but not impossible.

  I went to work on my ankles first, freeing them easily. I couldn't reach the tab on the connector at my wrists, but now that my feet were free, I didn't need to. Rolling off the bed to stand, I leaned over, pushed my arms out behind me, and brought my bound wrists down hard on the small of my back.

  The plastic zip ties cut into my already torn-up wrists but didn't break. I tried again, feeling the plastic strain but hold. It was a lot easier to do this from the front, but I was too impatient to take the time to work my wrists to the front of my body.

  I leaned over again, bent my knees and pushed my arms back, hard, as far as I could. I brought them down in a sharp strike against the small of my back. With an audible crack, the plastic zip ties popped open, and my hands were free.

  This was where things got tricky. I was alone in the enemy stronghold without a weapon, surrounded by armed men who wouldn't hesitate to shoot me.

  I had two choices. I could escape the house undetected, get to Cooper, and go home. Or, I could get a weapon, find Tsepov, and hold him until the FBI was able to breach the house and take him in.

  Guess which one I was going for.

  I had to.

  I wasn't my father.

  Maxwell had gone into the family business for the money and the glory.

  I like money. Who doesn't? And glory, well, glory is nice when it's deserved.

  I wasn't here for money or glory.

  At the heart of it, I like helping people. Doing the right thing. It means something to me. I joined the Army because I wanted to serve my country. I joined the Rangers because I wanted to learn how much I had to give. The answer was a hell of a lot.

  I could no more walk out of this house and leave Tsepov behind than I could have left Summer in the hands of that monst
er. This wasn't about my family anymore. This was about the women who hadn't escaped him and his uncle before him. The children.

  Fuck, I didn't like to think about what he was doing with the kids. I knew, I just didn't want to think about it. The guns and drugs were bad enough, but I might have let that slide. Not forever. Long enough to let us regroup and figure out where my father was.

  The trafficking put things on a whole other level. None of us could walk away from that.

  I had to get a weapon and find Tsepov. I had to signal Cooper. All simple things in theory, none easy to execute in reality. Tsepov's muscle wasn't overly bright, but they were strong, and fast, and armed. Very well armed.

  At Rycroft, I'd noticed that aside from the semiautomatic rifles they'd held—overkill in a fucking living room—they'd all had a second handgun visible, and I would bet at least one more hidden away.

  I leaned against the door to the room breathing steadily, clearing my mind until I could find my focus. The next few minutes would determine whether I lived or died.

  Unless I was incredibly lucky, there was no way through the next step of the plan without loss of life. None of these guys would let me disarm them. They'd fight to the death to protect their boss. If I wanted to walk out alive and help bring down Tsepov, I'd have to be willing to take this all the way.

  I was. I didn't like killing. I didn't get off on having power over human life. If I thought I could shoot to maim, I'd do it, but that only works in the movies. In real life, if you pull your weapon, you'd better be prepared to use it. Leaving the enemy alive is a great way to get yourself killed. I had no intention of dying. Not today.

  Hands steady, breath even, mind clear, I crossed the room and opened the window opposite the door. I paused, waiting for an alarm to sound. Nothing. Even the rich cheap out on their alarms, rarely putting sensors on second-floor windows. Their mistake.

  Leaving the window open, I crossed the room and eased open the door. The hall was empty. Several hours had passed since we'd made the trade. Plenty of time for Cooper and agent Holley to get set up. They'd be waiting for my signal.