Heavy boots marched toward them. Abby smiled to herself. She knew that walk. She recognized that strut.
Three seconds later, Ace stood over the man crouched next to her. “Abby wasn’t impressed with your grand opening. I’m not either.”
Three shots were fired, and Ace acted as if he hadn’t even pulled the trigger. He peered over the box. “Sorry to keep you waiting, love.”
She felt a grin tilt her lips. “You’re here now. Good timing, too. Asshole over there gave me too much to think about.”
Ace winked. “Surely you didn’t think I’d leave this earth without a proper good-bye kiss.” He leaned over and gave her a peck.
“Get me out of this damn box, Ace,” she whispered across his lips.
“They’re working on it.”
About that time, the lid lifted. Abby had never been so glad to see Casey and Porter.
“My clothes are in there,” she said, pointing to a row of lockers. “Some perv stripped me before he placed me in that coffin.”
Casey sniffed. His gaze traveled up and down her legs, and then he finally just stared straight at her breasts. “I think you should run around killing bad guys like that.”
“None of us would be able to concentrate,” Porter said, retrieving the pink nightdress she’d previously worn.
Ace’s eyes were fixated on the door behind her as she rapidly slipped the gown over her head. A couple of times, he licked his upper lip and moaned. “When this is over, I’m spanking your ass.”
“Promises, promises,” she purred, grabbing a semiautomatic from the back of Porter’s belt. Ace tossed her another weapon as they inched toward the door. Dressed in solid black, he looked dangerous, mean, and one hundred percent hardcore operative.
Fowler rushed them. “We’ve got company. Come on. There’s a back exit. We’re taking our position in the gymnasium. It’s the closest building to Juraz’s personal quarters.
They remained in a single-file line as they left the lodge. Brantley met them outside, quickly handing off more weapons, gun clips, and listening devices. “Are you all right?” he asked, caressing her arm in passing.
“Not yet, but I will be once I find Juraz.”
“He’s not your mark, Abby,” Brantley said. “Kit and Judson will take care of him.”
“Like hell,” she said, sprinting past them. Oh no, she hadn’t come this far to let them stop her now. This was her kill. She wanted to look Juraz in the eye and tell him why she’d pursued him, let him know why she would be the one to take his sorry life. She had to do this for Conrad, for the brothers and sisters who would never have the opportunity to live their lives.
“Damn it! Abby!”
Brantley, Ace, Casey, Porter, and Fowler followed behind her. She could hear them rushing through trees and bushes as they separated. Their ragged breaths came through her earpiece as they tried to catch her.
She clutched her semiautomatic. Her finger was on the trigger. Images of her father and stepmother rolled through her head. She saw the dead bodies of her siblings, the little children who would never know they were her brothers and sisters.
“Oh God!” she screamed out in agony, doubling over in the middle of a clearing at the top of the hill. “Why! Why!”
“Abby, come in!” Brantley said. “What’s your location?”
“Abby! Talk to me!” Ace screamed. “Where are you?”
With her hands on her knees and the gun dangling from her fingertips, she finally pulled herself together as the panic strummed through her eardrums. She forced herself to find the inner strength and thought of the final conversation she had with her father. “Be strong when everyone around you remains weak, push forward when everyone else lags behind, and fight for your cause with passion, courage, faith, and strength.”
As if her father took her hand and led her forward, she jerked all of a sudden. Her back straightened, and her eyes were focused.
Abby knew where to find Juraz. She acknowledged how this would all end. She realized what she’d lost. She understood there was only one way to move on in life.
She needed to finish this. Her father would expect her to avenge his death.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Kit, come in.” Brantley’s voice was clear as a bell. The shadows had advanced earpiece technology so they could distinguish between a call between the team and one specifically meant for only Kit and Judson.
“We’ve got her,” Kit assured him, walking up the embankment leading from the lake to Juraz’s private quarters.
“Where is she?”
“She’s on the back patio at Juraz’s place. We can’t get him before she does.”
“Damn it! Try!” Brantley screamed.
“Stand down, Brantley,” Judson said, which would likely taunt their superior.
“Get in there. Do it. Take him out before she has a shot. She’ll talk her way right into a corner. He’ll ambush her.”
Kit sprinted uphill. Judson pressed ahead. They were moving as fast as they could go with their sniper rifles in hand.
Kit’s heart raced. He saw her slip inside the patio doors. The blue light from a television screen was visible when she disappeared behind the sheer curtains.
“She’s in,” he informed the others. “Get the boys and come around back. Have someone covering the front. Once we’re in there, we could find ourselves barricaded and surrounded.”
“Go! Go! Go!” Brantley screamed. “We’re three minutes away.”
Kit feared they were too late, and he understood why Brantley didn’t want Abby taking that detrimental shot. She may have thought killing Juraz would take away the pain and anguish she felt when she lost her father, but the fact was, it would only dull the ache for a minute. Then she’d have to face the truth—killing the enemy would never bring back the family she lost, and that was hard to accept by those left behind with numerous regrets.
* * * *
“Abby.” Juraz’s menacing voice came from behind her as soon as she tiptoed inside his lakefront home, a one-level contemporary built out of the same siding used on the rugged waterside huts. Abby knew before she faced him—Juraz was holding a gun.
Slowly, she turned around, determined to look the man in the eye. To her surprise, not only did he grip a cocked gun in his left hand, he held up a glossy photograph of her family in his right.
“Drop your weapon,” he said firmly. “Mine is cocked. Mine is loaded. You don’t have a prayer and you know it.”
She felt her upper cheek flinch. He was right. She couldn’t do anything to save herself. The only thing she could do was play along, buy some time. And that killed her.
She’d made a detrimental error, one that could cause her demise. The guys had been right. She was too close to the situation. She couldn’t think like an operative when revenge was all that mattered.
Lowering her weapon, she knelt down and placed the gun at her feet. Slowly, she rose again.
“I have to admit,” Juraz said, waving the gun in her direction. “You fooled me, Abby. And I’m rarely taken by surprise.”
She said nothing. She waited, watched, and focused on his trigger finger, realizing she’d only have a fraction of a second to drop and roll once he started firing.
“Your father covered up his relationship with you. Apparently, there was a reason for that, and while I’m curious and would love to know why, I’m certain you have no more knowledge of his reasons than I do.” He walked closer. Apparently he planned to fire at close range.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious how I obtained this photograph?”
Abby saw movement over Juraz’s left shoulder. It was pitch black outside, and she couldn’t make out the image. She didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to whatever awaited them outside. Surely her team was in place. Backup was certain. She needed to think smart and keep him preoccupied, but Juraz’s twisted smile prevented her from speaking.
Juraz was too close to risk movement. She needed to tap her earp
iece and check for functionality, but one wrong move and she could lose her life to the man who took the lives of those she loved most.
“Your father and I were lifelong enemies. Did you know that?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so,” Juraz said, pacing. “It’s a shame really. After what happened to my family, he’d forgotten all about me, the little babe they chose not to kill when they slaughtered my mother and father.”
“My father wasn’t a murderer.”
“He was a trained operative, was he not?”
“Yes, but—”
“There’s no excuse! He killed my birth parents! The people I called my mama and papa were not my parents, because your father took them away from me!” Juraz paced. “When I was fresh out of the womb, he waited for my mother and father to come home from the hospital. Then he took me out of my mother’s arms, laid me in a cradle, and fired two shots into my mother’s head and four into my father’s.”
“Do you know why?” she asked.
“I don’t care why,” he replied. “He took away my family. I’ve had the joy of taking his over and over again.”
“Tell me something, Juraz,” she said, coming to terms with Juraz’s imminent death as soon as she saw Kit lurking right outside the patio door. “Did killing my family bring back your father and mother?”
“No, but wherever they are today, I’m certain they’re proud of their son.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you,” Kit said, stepping inside the living room. He glanced at Abby. “His father and mother were trafficking drugs. They were known to hire children to carry their poisons across the border, and if their parents refused to let the children carry? Juraz’s father killed them in cold blood and took the kids and put them to work anyway.”
Juraz raised his gun. Kit lifted his. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Juraz.”
Abby saw a bright red light on the side of Juraz’s head.
“The hell it doesn’t!” Judson said. His voice rocked through her earpiece as she threw herself on the ground and looked up in time to see Juraz fall to the floor. His eyes suddenly set.
“Abby!” Kit ran to her and drew her against him. “Dear God, Abby, I didn’t think we’d make it in time.”
She clutched Kit’s shirt and held him, breathed him in. She watched the blood run free of one more criminal’s body, and questioned her choices in life. She wondered why she’d chosen to become an operative in the first place.
This wasn’t the reason. She’d wanted to save lives, protect and serve.
“We’re killers,” she said, searching his eyes.
Judson rushed the house. “Everyone all right in here?”
“Yes,” Kit said softly, holding her still tighter.
“You scared us to death, Abby,” Judson said, kissing the top of her head in passing.
“Is it clear in here?”
“Most likely,” Kit replied. “Check the back bedrooms and closets.”
Judson walked down the hall, easing in and out of the numerous rooms. A few minutes later, he returned. “All clear.”
“We are killers,” Abby said again, wanting someone to acknowledge how this disturbed her.
“Sometimes, but not always, Abby,” Kit said gently. “We’re men and women who make sacrifices so others never have to know the heartache and pain of what men and women like us are forced to endure.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What are you doing?” Brantley asked, entering the country kitchen.
“Ah, Ace, you shouldn’t have,” Porter said, following behind him.
“He’s trying to earn brownie points,” Fowler informed them, glancing up from the newspaper. “After Kit saved Abby’s life, he’s afraid he may have lost his rank. He’s fighting for a better position.”
“I know one position I’d like to have,” Casey remarked, waggling his brows.
Ace never acknowledged the group. He continued working on the breakfast ensemble he’d set up for Abby. After piling the pancakes high, topping the stack with a strawberry, and pouring a cup of coffee, he placed a red rose in the glass bud vase and picked up the tray. “Where are Kit and Judson?”
“Sleeping in with Abby,” Brantley replied, watching him as if he thought the announcement might deter his mission.
Porter narrowed his gaze. “There are two other mugs setting there if you want to fix them a cup, too.”
“There’s only one fork on the tray,” Fowler acknowledged, squinting his eyes.
“Judson and Kit can scoot over,” Ace announced. “For the last two days, they’ve stayed barricaded in that bedroom like they’re the only men who know how to take care of Abby. Today, she’s gonna get up, brush off the seat of her pants, and quit feeling sorry for herself.”
“I don’t think she’s doing that, Ace. She’s finally taking the time to grieve for her family,” Porter explained. “She never did that. She needs to.”
Ace felt a sudden surge of guilt. He should’ve thought of that. He set the tray on the kitchen table and ran his fingers through his hair. “Have any of you talked to her?”
“No,” Porter replied. “She needed time. We’re giving her what she needs.”
Ace stared at the tray. “So this is a bad idea?”
“Actually, I think it’s wonderful, Ace,” Abby said, sashaying into the kitchen. She looked like a first breath of winter—cool and refreshed. She sported glowing red cheeks, almost as pink as if they’d been kissed by the winter winds. And Ace wasn’t buying her outward show of being all right. This was a cover-up, and he should’ve been more compassionate in her time of need.
“Good morning,” Fowler, Casey, and Porter chimed together.
“Hey you,” Brantley said. “How are you feeling?”
“Did you sleep well?” Ace asked.
“Good morning to all of you,” Abby said. “I feel fine. I slept for two days.” A beat later, she said, “Kit and Judson are getting dressed. They’ll be down in a minute.”
“Ace made you pancakes.” Fowler pointed out the obvious.
“There’s plenty of batter if Kit and Judson want to make their own,” Ace said.
She smiled at the rose. “Somebody went to a lot of trouble.”
Ace slipped a kiss on her cheek. “You’re welcome.”
“I picked the rose from Donovan’s garden,” Fowler said, lowering the paper.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the full bloom with her fingertips cradling the petal. “It reminds me of Dad.”
All eyes focused on her then. Abby had never called Conrad “Dad,” and the word slipped so casually from her lips, Ace realized there was a definite change in Abby. She was finally at peace.
Fowler started to comment, but she held up her hand. “I want to remember him how I choose. I’ve grieved as I should. I’ve held fast to the memories and let the regrets go. I’m done, boys. There’s nothing left to say.”
Fowler and the others nodded as if they understood. Ace was proud of her. She’d come a long way.
She studied her breakfast like she wasn’t hungry but would take the time to make a good show and eat anyway. Wearing nothing but jeans and a white T-shirt, Abby was radiant.
The little lady didn’t look anything like the tough operative they’d come to know and love. Somehow she was softer, more delicate. Ace noticed there was something different about her. Should he credit Kit and Judson with the noticeable change?
They entered the kitchen about the time Ace started to remark on her appearance. Judson acted as if he couldn’t wait to spill the beans only he held in a can. Abby sat down on a barstool and picked up the strawberry. She studied the fruit for a minute before she plucked the stem from the end.
“So did Abby tell you what she has in mind?” Judson asked, directing the question to Brantley.
Abby tilted her head back and held the plump berry just over her lips. Stretching her tongue, she licked the tip like she wanted to
give every man there something to think about. They all paid attention.
By the time the strawberry sank between her luscious lips, Brantley said, “I have a lot in mind for Abby after that.”
Kit stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “A fruit gives you ideas? Hmm, what about that, Abby?”
“I like peaches myself,” she said, the same old Abby coming to surface again. “Good and fat, nice and hairy.”
She felt better all right. This was the Abby Ace knew and loved.
“So we were talking this morning about how you plan to organize the team now that we’re out of the dark,” Judson said.
“I spoke to Brock last night. He said we’ll continue as always. You’ll be shadowing our moves, and the only difference is, we’ll know you’re there,” Brantley explained.
Kit frowned. “That won’t work for us.”
“Why?” Brantley asked, his brow furrowing.
Abby took a bite of pancakes. Around a mouthful of food, she asked, “What about a rotation?”
“What kind of rotation?” Brantley asked, clearly not following her.
Abby continued focusing on breakfast. This time, she stuffed a sausage link between her cheeks and pretended to perform oral sex on the juicy meat. Finally, she bit down and chewed.
“Ouch,” Casey commented, focusing on her lips.
“I’ll say,” Fowler said, situating his package in the front.
Abby swallowed a drink of coffee. “Why don’t you guys rotate the shadow positions? That way, I won’t have to go dark in order to see two of my men when they’re shadowing our unit.”
“Two of your men?” Brantley asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I have seven, you know.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Brantley, and you know this.” She strolled toward him. Locking her fingers around his belt loops, she tugged him forward. “I want to have a relationship with all seven of you. I want the kind of life other women have—men to love, children to raise, and a real home of my own.
“If you object, then I’ll sneak around behind your back. I know how tough command leaders can’t stand it when they don’t know what’s going on.”
Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) Page 17