Bowie: The Sinner Saints #5

by Adrienne Bell

  “Of course, I did,” Charlie bluffed. “Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?”

  “Well, I’m impressed,” he said, stuffing the drive into his pocket, and taking a step back. “It’s almost a shame that I have to kill you. We could have used someone with your talents at Darktide.”

  He started to glance over her shoulder again. Desperation dug its claws deep into her hammering heart.

  “Wait,” she shouted. It worked. Trevor turned his attention back to her. “You don’t want to do this, Trevor.”

  “No, I really do,” he said, his voice turning to ice. “You’ve been making a fool of me all week, Charlene, and now it’s time to pay the price.”

  “And I’m not done yet,” she said, willing herself to keep her chin up. “You see, that’s not the only copy of the files, Trevor. And if my mom, Bowie, and I don’t walk out of this house in the next ten minutes all the evidence against you and Darktide will be electronically delivered to all the major news outlets.”

  He didn’t even blink. His cold smile only grew.

  “So predictable. I thought you might try something stupid like that,” he said, stroking his chin. “But tell me, what will you do if I threaten to shoot your mother?”

  “I’d tell you that you never had any intention of hurting her,” Charlie said. “In fact, I’m guessing she’s a pivotal part of your alibi. That’s why she’s blindfolded and hasn’t been allowed to see anyone’s face.”

  “You are clever.” Trevor narrowed his eyes. “But what about your boyfriend. I certainly don’t have any qualms about shooting him.”

  Charlie straightened her shoulders. “And you haven’t had much success hitting him either. He’s a surprisingly hard man to kill.”

  “Is that right?”

  Charlie lifted her chin. “It is.”

  Trevor’s lips pressed together in mock contemplation for a long moment. Then he leaned in close.

  “In that case, you should know that you’re not the only one who thought up a contingency plan,” he whispered against her ear before turning around and walking back to the man with the computer.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean your mother and Mr. Tamatoa aren’t the only hostages I have,” he said. “Just the obvious ones.”

  Charlie’s breath hitched in her throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about the rest of the Macmillan Security staff,” Trevor said, swiveling the laptop around. The screen was cut into four squares, each with what looked like a live video feed from the inside of each one of her friends’ homes.

  Carter, Rhys, Jake, Mason—they were all there.

  Charlie felt the blood drain from her face.

  “I have eyes on every one of them right now,” Trevor said, cocking his hip against the side of the desk. “And snipers outside each of their windows, just waiting for me to give the word.”

  Charlie shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t do this.”

  Trevor let out a chilling laugh.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I can,” he said. He slowly crossed his arms in front of his chest. “But that means the choice is yours, Charlie. What’s more important? The truth, or the lives of every person in the world that you love.”

  Everything inside Charlie froze—she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—as abject terror chilled her blood. But slowly resolve thawed the ice in her veins, and reason returned.

  Suddenly, she knew what she had to do…the only thing she could do.

  She tore her gaze away from the screen and looked at Trevor.

  “You win. I’ll destroy the files,” she said, cringing at the sound of defeat in her voice. “I’m just going to need my phone.”

  ***

  Charlie had been in the library too damn long. If there had been any hope of her coming out on her own, she would have done it already. At least, Bowie hadn’t heard anything to indicate Bishop had turned violent.

  Probably because Charlie was doing her best to buy him some time. No one could keep a person talking the way she could. But she’d already been in there five full minutes. Enough time for any plan of hers to work.

  Which meant it was up to him to get them out alive.

  Bowie drew in a deep breath and shifted his knees against the hardwood floor as he took stock of his situation. There was a heavily armed man five feet in front of him. He’d counted another three when they’d first walked into the room. Plus the one that ushered Charlie out earlier. There had been no movement since then, no footsteps in the hall, so it was probable this was Bishop’s whole army. Five men in total, all of them armed with M4 Carbines.

  Bowie rolled his neck. He’d faced worse odds…though not often.

  He mentally ran through a couple of plans—how quickly he would have to spring forward to use the man in front of him as a human shield, who to take down first, what angles to take to avoid stray gunfire striking Mrs. Keswick.

  Bowie was seconds away from acting when he heard the unmistakable snap of a cabinet slamming shut in the kitchen…and he wasn’t the only one. He watched with interest as the man in front of him snapped his head toward the kitchen door before nodding to someone in the corner.

  Bowie listened carefully to the heavy boot steps moving away, then the soft creak of swinging hinges.

  He silently cursed, suddenly gripped by indecision. Should he wait and see how this played out, or seize the opportunity to strike?

  The decision was made for him a moment later when a sudden cry drifted out from the kitchen…and was cut short just as quickly.

  Two more sets of footsteps quickly disappeared into the kitchen behind Bowie, but the man in front of him stayed put. His attention might have been on the kitchen door, but his rifle was still trained at the dead center of Bowie’s chest.

  Bad move. He shot his right hand out and wrapped it around the barrel. He forced the weapon down to the floor just as the man pulled the trigger. The crack of gunfire was deafening, but the bullets harmlessly pierced the floor. Behind him, Mrs. Keswick let out a muffled shriek behind her gag.

  Using the man’s own weight against him, he bounded from the floor, and pushed his opponent down. Bowie snatched the rifle strap from around the man’s head as he fell and quickly turned the weapon on him. The man threw his hands up in defeat, but Bowie wasn’t taking any chances. He spun the rifle around and brought the hard stock down against the side of his head, knocking the bastard out cold.

  Bowie didn’t waste a second. He slung the stolen weapon over his head and headed for the kitchen. He’d dealt with a lot of shit, but something in his gut told him he wasn’t prepared for whatever chaos Charlie had unleashed with her backup plan.

  He led with the rifle, using the muzzle of the M4 to slowly nudge open the swinging door.

  “Don’t worry, friend,” an annoyingly familiar, accented voice greeted him a half-second later. “My deal with Charlie was very clear. I needed to be here at nine o’clock sharp to save your ass, not to take you down.”

  James? The thief? He was Charlie’s backup plan?

  Bowie let out a low groan as he poked his head around the corner and found the smug little bastard lazily leaning against the far counter, arms crossed.

  Damn it. Charlie had been right not to tell him about her backup plan. He never would have agreed.

  “I didn’t need saving.” Bowie lowered his rifle as he slid through the door. “I had everything under control.”

  James arched his brows. “That wasn’t how it looked to me.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Bowie said, dropping his voice low.

  “Indeed they can.” The thief gave him a knowing nod before glancing at the floor. “Well, then, at least we can agree that I made the game a little easier for you by clearing these useless pieces off the board.”

  Bowie stepped deeper into the kitchen, past the center island, to see the three Darktide guards he’d heard leaving the
room. They were all neatly laid out on the floor…their heads snapped back at unnatural angles.

  “You did this?” Bowie asked, looking over at James.

  “They made the mistake of thinking they could threaten my life.” For a brief moment a steely cold spark flashed in James’ eyes. “That’s not a mistake mortal men get to make twice.”

  So it seemed. Slowly, he began to realize just how much he’d underestimated the man. Sure, he might be a preening peacock, but apparently he was deadly as hell.

  “I need to go save Charlie,” Bowie said.

  James gave a nod and pushed himself off the counter. “And I need to get out of here before the sirens start wailing.”

  Bowie watched with wide eyes as he headed for the back door. “You’re not going to help me get her away from Bishop?”

  “Why should I? You have it all under control, remember?” James said as he pushed open the door. “Besides, I’m no hero. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave that role to you.”

  ***

  Charlie just about jumped out of her skin as the sound of gunfire shook the walls of her parents’ house. She’d been staring down at her phone, doing her best to keep her composure as she worked furiously on the tiny screen while the hard tip of the rifle dug into her back.

  The honest truth was she hadn’t been doing a very good job. Her hands were shaky, and her thumbs kept hitting the wrong keys. What should have taken her seconds was taking minutes instead. And the longer it took, the less patient Trevor became.

  “You have ten seconds before I give the order to kill one of your friends,” he said. “Which one do you want me to take out first? The blonde? How about the muscular one?”

  “For God’s sake, Trevor. I’m going as fast as I can,” Charlie pleaded.

  Trevor hadn’t seemed moved.

  “Ten,” he’d counted. “Nine.”

  He’d made it all the way to six before the shots sounded.

  For a moment, Charlie froze, fearing it was the gun behind her that had gone off. She waited for the searing pain, the blood, for her body to give up and crash to the floor…but none of that happened. It took her almost a full second to realize that the sounds had come from the next room.

  The room that Bowie was in.

  Panic filled Charlie’s chest. And she obviously wasn’t the only one. Trevor rushed over to the computer, and demanded to see what was happening.

  Charlie forced her breathing back under control. Trevor hadn’t ordered the shots. That meant there was a good chance Bowie had been the one to cause them. If that was the case, she had only a few moments to finish what she had been doing.

  Her mother was depending on her.

  Bowie was depending on her.

  Her friends were depending on her.

  She could do this. She had to.

  Forcing a calm that she didn’t fully feel, Charlie steadied her fingers and made the last stroke on her phone.

  By the time Trevor snapped his head up to glare at her, she was ready.

  “Are you responsible for this?” His lips pulled back from his teeth as he spat the question. Seething anger was written all over his red face.

  In that moment, Charlie knew that her backup plan had been successful. Bowie was fine. He had to be. Nothing else in the world could make Trevor Bishop so furious.

  “Am I responsible for the distraction that split up your men and allowed Bowie to overtake the ones that were left?” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. That doesn’t seem very predictable of me.”

  “You idiot,” Trevor snarled as he quickly strode toward her.

  “And here I thought I was pretty clever,” she said with a smile.

  Her sense of humor didn’t last long though. The moment Trevor was in front of her, he slammed his fist against her jaw. She crumbled to her knees, but kept her grip on the phone. The sharp taste of blood washed over her tongue.

  Before she could rise, Trevor twisted his fingers mercilessly into her hair and hauled her to her knees.

  “You won’t be laughing in a second when your brains are splattered across the floor.”

  Charlie was surprised when he didn’t look over her shoulder at the gunman to do the deed, but instead pulled a pistol out of a holster at his waist. Apparently, she’d made him angry enough to do the unthinkable—get blood on his own hands.

  “Now you really don’t want to do that, Trevor,” she said. “Trust me.”

  “Why?” he growled. “Another empty threat up your sleeve?”

  “No,” she said. “Because you have an audience.”

  He froze. “What?”

  “You aren’t the only one who can hack into a home security system,” she said, lifting her phone so he could see the screen. “But I’m the only one good enough to divert the feeds to all the major news outlets.”

  Trevor snapped his head toward the man at the computer. “Is this true?”

  The man typed on his keyboard for a moment before the color drained from his face. He didn’t say a word. He just nodded slowly.

  “If you kill me now Trevor, you’ll be committing murder in front of every newsroom in the country,” Charlie said through gritted teeth. “And something tells me that’s the last thing you want to do.”

  Several tense seconds ticked by as Charlie waited for Trevor to release her, but his grip in her scalp stayed as strong. Finally, he leaned down close enough for his hot breath to spray against her ear.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he snarled.

  Charlie lifted her gaze, desperate to look him in the eye, to get through to his last shred of humanity. “Please, Trevor. Be reasonable.”

  “Reasonable?” he laughed, standing up straight again. He gave Charlie a good yank, hard enough to lift her knees off the floor, and make her yowl in pain. He turned just enough to show her face to the camera in the corner. “What did you think was going to happen, Charlie? All I had was my secrets, and you’ve torn them away. Now I’m a dead man, either by your boyfriend’s hand, or by the press. So the way I see it, you’ve left me with only two choices, go out with a whimper or in a blaze of glory. And guess which one I choose?”

  “Trevor,” she begged, as he lowered his gun to her temple.

  The library door burst open.

  The gunman turned too late. A bullet slammed into his chest and the man fell to the ground with a cry.

  Charlie thought for a second the computer guy might try to fight his way out but he threw his hands over his head and dropped to the ground instead. Apparently, Darktide IT guys didn’t get combat training either.

  Charlie twisted in Trevor’s hold enough to get a glimpse of the open door. The move cost her though. She could feel more of her hair ripping out. But she got herself far enough around to see Bowie filling the doorway.

  “Let her go, Bishop.” Bowie’s voice boomed in the room.

  Trevor didn’t flinch. If anything, his grip on her intensified. A cry broke from her lips as he hoisted her higher, so that her body shielded his chest. Charlie struggled as hard as she could, but the bastard was just too strong. He held her fast.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, his voice wild now. “How about this? You take another step and I’ll kill her. Don’t think I won’t do it. You know what I’m capable of.”

  “I said let her go.” Bowie’s voice dropped even lower, low enough that Charlie would have sworn that it rattled some of the books from the shelves.

  Trevor started to raise his gun back up toward her temple again.

  “And I said—”

  He never got the rest out.

  A single shot rang out, hitting Trevor dead in the center of his forehead. A fine crimson mist sprayed from the wound as he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

  Charlie stared with wide eyes at the spot where he’d stood. She blinked several times, one right after another, but the view didn’t change.

  He was dead.

  Trevor was dead.

  And Bowie had killed him.
>
  She spun around. He was still in the doorway, rifle in hand, but now his dark eyes were focused on her and her alone. Charlie raced toward him and threw herself into his arms, hard enough to push him into the hallway. Out to where the cameras didn’t cover.

  “Charlie.” He sounded concerned. She didn’t know why. They were together again. Everything was fine. It would never be bad again. He tried to pull back a little, but she refused to let go.

  “Sweetheart,” he said.

  Sweetheart. He was calling her sweetheart now? Dear God, she really might never let go.

  He finally used enough force to push her back a couple of inches. Just enough to look at her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Now that you’re here I’m perfect,” she said.

  “But you’re bleeding,” he said, his stare fixed on her mouth.

  Charlie lifted a hand to the side of her face and felt a slight sting next to her lip. A trace of blood smeared her fingertips when she pulled them back.

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “Nothing a couple stitches won’t fix.”

  His expression grew darker as he continued to look her over. “And your head.”

  “Yeah, I might have lost a little hair. It’ll grow back. At least, I hope it will.” She paused. “My mom? How’s my mom?”

  “She’s fine,” he said. “I untied her and sent her out the back door before I came for you. She’s probably already safe with the police by now.”

  “Thank God,” Charlie muttered. “When I think of what Trevor could have done to her…to you…to everyone—”

  “Shh.” Bowie swept his hand over the back of her head, soothing her worries away. “It’s over now.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Because you killed him,” she said.

  “Well, he threatened the life of the woman I love,” he said. “That’s not a mistake I can allow a man to make twice.”

  Charlie went back to hugging the holy hell out of him. “Say that again.”