A Love For Always

by Victoria Paige

  “This is neither here nor there,” Cade muttered. “Now ask your father why he won’t give up Toshiro. And I might add, your dear Nate knows about it, but didn’t tell you.”

  Sylvie was almost afraid to ask, so she let her eyes do the talking.

  Her father looked like he’d aged twenty years. He wouldn’t look at her. “Toshiro is my son, Sylvie. I can’t just hand him over. Trust is very important with his condition. If he loses that stability, he may even become useless to their client. Where would that leave him?”

  Her father’s words disappeared into the ringing in her ears. She always knew her father had children elsewhere, but she didn’t think it would come down to this. And Nate knew this? How could he not tell her there was no way her father would make the trade? Was he trying to fix her problems behind her back? A surge of anger spiked toward her man, but it quickly dissipated. There was a possibility they might kill her, and she didn’t want her last thoughts of Nate to be anger.

  Sylvie squared her shoulders, even when they wanted to slump in resignation. Keeping the tears at bay, she addressed the men in the room. She wagged a finger between Cade and Shelby. “You two knew this?”

  Both men nodded.

  “We just found out two weeks ago,” Cade added.

  “There’s no way he’ll make the trade,” Sylvie said. “Even I can see that. What were you guys thinking?”

  “Life and death,” Shelby answered when Cade just kept quiet. “Mr. Yoshida, how much do you care for Sylvie?”

  Her father didn’t say anything.

  “Let me rephrase. What scenario can you live with? Both children alive, but both away from you? Or you get to keep your son, but your daughter dies?”

  Sylvie gasped as her eyes flew to Cade who immediately looked away. “Cade? You said . . .”

  “I said I had no intentions of killing you,” her former friend said. “But if I have no choice then . . . I’m sorry, Sylvie. A point needs to be made or The Jackal Pack will lose credibility.”

  “Why do you care about losing credibility among criminals?”

  Shelby grabbed her chin. “Enough!” He turned his head to the screen. “What is the custom of the Yakuza, Mr. Yoshida? Finger cutting, right?”

  “No!” Her father spoke in harsh Japanese, cursing Shelby and his ancestors.

  Sylvie cringed. The blond man was bluffing, right?

  “Hold her, Cade.” Shelby walked to the bureau and opened a drawer.

  “Nothing personal, Sylvie,” Cade whispered in her ear as his trunk of an arm banded across her chest.

  Her heart constricted as images of shorn fingers assailed her mind. Where did those flashbacks come from? She was three when she left Japan. Had she witnessed finger cutting before?

  When Shelby returned, he unsnapped a canvas roll and laid out its contents.

  “Do not touch her!” her father yelled through the screen. “I’m so sorry, Sylvie. Your man was supposed to protect you.”

  Sylvie was not paying attention to her father. Her eyes were riveted on the sharp plier-like cutter Shelby selected from his torture instruments.

  “You come at me with that and I will kick you in the balls,” Sylvie threatened.

  “Cute.” Shelby smirked at her. “Your foot comes anywhere near my balls, Sylvie, and I will start with your thumb. You will never hold a knife again.”

  “Shelby,” Cade started.

  “Shut up, Bowen. You’re The Jackal and you’ve turned pussy.”

  “I knew you’ve always wanted my position,” Cade snarled.

  “No. I was fine to be your second, but you’ve lost your edge ever since you’ve gone undercover as a chef!”

  Sylvie took advantage of their distraction and kicked at Shelby, except he managed to guard his crotch.

  “Damn it!” the blond yelled, glaring at Cade. “You got her?”

  “Sylvie, don’t fight,” Cade pleaded. “You’ll only make things worse.”

  “And this isn’t already?”

  Shelby grabbed her hand.

  She wasn’t going down easy. Did they expect her to just sit still and let them take her finger?

  She screeched and fought like a wildcat.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Roman Loft was a five story rectangular building in the fast growing city of New Park. Chic restaurants and a high-end convenience store anchored its four corners while unique shops speckled the middle. The next three levels consisted of office space while the fifth floor was mostly residential lofts.

  Nate, Travis, and Manning were in the stairwell on the east side of the building, while Gabe, Sam, and another Guardian were on the west side entrance.

  They caught a break when Cat enlisted the help of the AGS datacenter analyst, and they were able to reconstruct the departure of The Jackal Pack frame by frame from collected satellite images, traffic cams, and secret surveillance footage. Cade and his crew switched cars somewhere in the overpass between New Park City and Loudon County. They were able to track the vehicle to this building.

  A list of tenants were immediately run through a crosscheck of probable Pack members. Cade and Shelby being the only known ones.

  After eliminating most of the tenants because their background checks came back clean, two lofts owned by Aztec Holding Corp raised red flags. It was a shell company with bogus information. How Cat and the AGS analyst made that determination, Nate didn’t even stop to question. This was a lead and they were going for it. Thermal signatures coming from the two lofts indicated three people in one, another three in the other. One of the occupants in the loft closer to the east stairwell registered a distinctively smaller surface area on their scanner indicating with high probability that this could be Sylvie.

  Hang in there, Sylvie. I’m coming for you.

  They hoofed it up from the basement to avoid attracting attention. Nate didn’t have time to change into assault gear and merely wore the tactical vest Gabe handed him. In no time at all, they had arrived on the top most level.

  “The hallway is clear,” the analyst said, running point from the AGS data center. “I’ve taken over their surveillance cameras and run it in a loop. You have about seven minutes to get in there before someone notices.”

  Manning was in the lead, pushing the door open slightly, and taking a peek. He nodded to Travis and Nate and they followed him out the stairwell door. Taking defensive positions, they silently moved down the hallway. Gabe and his team came in from the west stairwell and situated themselves in front of the other loft where the rest of The Jackal Pack were holed up.

  Travis crouched in front of the door and cautiously inserted a snake camera while Manning worked on the breaching charge. Gabe’s team did the same on their end.

  Nate and Travis grimly waited for their receiver to reveal the occupants of the room. It wasn’t long before Cade came into view and then Sylvie.

  Nate had trouble regulating his heart rate and breathing. He wanted to crash in there, grab his girl, and spirit her away. After he double-tapped both those motherfuckers of course.

  His hackles rose when he saw Cade wrap his arms around Sylvie.

  “Something’s going on,” Travis whispered.

  “You think?” Nate growled softly.

  “Oh, fuck,” his friend added. “They’re not going to—?”

  “Hell to the fucking no.” Nate’s body coiled into a tense ball of fury. No way in hell were they touching her with those torture instruments. “Manning, we’re out of time. Get it done before I kick this door open.”

  “Almost there . . .”

  He had to hand it to the big guy. He was calm as a lake, whereas Nate was a whirlpool of rage.

  A scuffle could be heard from the room followed by an angry male voice.

  “We’re. Out. Of. Time.” Nate gritted through his teeth.

  “Just a sec . . .”

  He heard Sylvie’s shriek of terror through the door.

  “Fuck this,” Nate growled and prepared to haul back.


  “Got it,” Manning said.

  The three of them backed away and turned from the door.

  The charge exploded.

  Nate charged in.

  *****

  Sylvie kicked, squirmed, and finally managed to gain enough wiggle room to ram her head up Cade’s chin. The man grunted and loosened his grip. She escaped his arms, crouched low, and sprang to tackle Shelby with her shoulder like a linebacker.

  It wasn’t a very successful tackle.

  She bounced back and landed on her butt.

  Shelby simply staggered a little.

  Motherfucker! Before she could debate another move, her arm almost came out of its socket as she was yanked up viciously by the blond man.

  “You fucking wildcat,” Shelby yelled. She had gone and pissed him off now. “I’m going to scalp you!”

  He barely got the words out when an ear-shattering explosion split the room.

  Everyone instinctively ducked to the floor.

  “What the fuck?” Cade roared, reaching behind him to draw his gun.

  Sylvie barely had time to register Nate in the room when everything happened simultaneously.

  A shot went off and she saw Cade spin around, dropping to the floor. At the same time, she was again hauled to her feet and dragged backward. Sharp cold steel pointed at her jugular. The adjoining door burst open, and the rest of The Jackal Pack poured into the room. Another explosion, this time from the other loft, surprised Cade’s crew, prompting two of them to spring back to the other loft.

  Weapons were drawn and pointed at opposing teams.

  A standoff.

  Nate’s assault rifle was aimed at a point above her head. Way above, she hoped. For the first time in her life, Sylvie was thankful for her short height.

  “Let her go.” Damn, her man’s voice was dripping in ice cold calm while she could barely stand on her wobbly legs. “You okay, Sylvs?”

  Again with the “are you okay” questions.

  “Do I look okay?” Sylvie retorted. “I’ve got a freaking knife against my neck.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed Nate’s face.

  “It’s not funny,” she snapped.

  “I didn’t think this was funny,” Nate stated matter-of-factly.

  “Are you two seriously having this conversation?” Cade groaned from the floor.

  “Shut up!” Nate and Sylvie told him in unison.

  “This is, ah . . . quite entertaining.” Shelby backed away with her toward the open French doors that were opened to a terrace.

  Uh-oh.

  “What are you doing, Shelby?” Nate snarled.

  “That’s not my real name.”

  “I don’t fucking care. Let her go or I swear I’ll shoot you right now.”

  Okay, Nate’s voice was now a bit agitated, so that meant she wasn’t acting like such a pussy after all.

  “We can all talk about this,” Cade said, bleeding from his shoulder and struggling to his knees. Travis, who had his gun pointed at him, warned him not to make another move.

  “Too late for talking, bro,” Shelby said. “We’re not getting out of here. Harold Tisdale can kiss his drug goodbye. And we can say goodbye to our retirement on the beach sipping Mai Tais and endless nights fucking exotic cunts, ” Cade’s blond friend laughed maniacally and continued to ramble in escalating lunacy, the rest of his team started wavering, looking at each other uncertainly. Manning and Travis, weapons still drawn, were speaking to them, probably persuading them to stand down.

  “Maximum security prison?” Shelby continued. “Not the life for me. But if I’m going down, I’m making a statement to the fucker who fucked us.” Shelby hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear. “How about it, sweetheart, fancy a dive down the building?”

  “You’re insane!” Sylvie gasped.

  Without missing a beat, her captor jumped on the bench built into the edge of the terrace, lifting her effortlessly with him. Sylvie was paralyzed with terror. All sounds receded in a vacuum as her blood pounded in her ears so hard, she belatedly registered a gun firing.

  “Shelby!” Cade yelled.

  Shelby was hit! She was wrenched around as his body sharply jerked left, catapulting her forward. Nate had dropped his rifle and was surging toward her. Shelby’s arm loosened around her so she reached out. Just when she thought she was going to fall into her man’s arms, she saw the look of horror crossing Nate’s face before the rigid outline of determination edged his jaw. Sylvie found herself getting yanked backward, the momentum was surely going to send her and Shelby over the terrace. Suddenly, Nate was beside her, ripping her away from Shelby’s hold and shoving her off the bench. She spread her arms to brace her fall as she skidded on the pavers, her palms and knees taking the brunt of the fall.

  “Nate!” Travis roared in anguish.

  Shaking the effects of her fall from her head, she pushed up with her scraped hands and twisted her head to look at Nate.

  Nobody was at the terrace. Sounds of screeching tires and screams could be heard from the street.

  Even as the reality of what happened set in, Sylvie refused to believe it. “Where’s Nate?”

  She forced her aching body to stand up as her eyes wildly searched for him. “Nate!” A weight pressed into her chest, her breathing fractured as a sob rose in her throat. “Oh, God! Noooooo!” She rushed to the edge of the building, but she was hauled back into a steel embrace.

  Travis’s hoarse voice whispered, “Don’t look, Sylvie. Don’t.” He kept her face to his chest as her tears came and her body detached from her mind. She struggled to get free, trying to see where Nate had fallen, but Travis held tight. She didn’t even notice Travis sinking to the ground with her, shielding her from the horror of what had happened.

  Nate plummeted to his death.

  Saving her.

  “Get a fucking ambulance here. Now!” Gabe’s voice spoke harshly. “Manning. All secure?”

  Ambulance? For who? For Cade?

  He could rot in hell for all she cared. Sylvie had the most malevolent thought of carrying out her plans to filet her former sous chef.

  She raised her face from Travis’s chest, noting she had just soaked his vest with her tears. But she didn’t care, she was sure that was the last thing on his mind as well. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”

  “Hush, Sylvie,” Travis whispered. “He loved you. He wouldn’t have done it any other way.”

  Gabe crouched in front of them. “Let’s go.”

  “Gabe, man, give her a minute,” Travis snapped.

  “Uh, I don’t think she wants to take a minute.” There was a cautious look on Gabe’s face. “I think Reece fucking made it, but he’s in bad shape.”

  “What?” Sylvie whispered. “But didn’t he—?” She pulled away from Travis and rushed to the terrace edge. What she saw made her turn around and run as fast as she could back inside the loft, and out its door. She couldn’t get to Nate fast enough.

  *****

  Jesus Christ! I’m alive?

  His whole body fucking hurt.

  He rolled off Shelby’s barely breathing body and groaned.

  They landed on a damned car.

  Thank God.

  The motherfucker caught hold of his tactical vest and yanked him down the freakish plunge. Through sheer luck and determination, the split second before they hit the roof of the vehicle, he managed to gain the upper position and Shelby took the brunt of the impact. Still, Nate’s life flashed in front of him, but all of it was of her. All he could think about was Sylvie. How much he loved her. How much he’d regret not spending his lifetime with her. Now. He was alive?

  He stared up at the blue sky, trying to shut out the cacophony of noises around him. His brain felt like it would explode out of his skull and it hurt to breathe. His lungs were okay. For now. He dared not move more because he was sure he’d cracked a few ribs. The last thing he wanted was to puncture his lungs. Nate tried to fight the blackness trying to claim him. />
  Stay awake, stay awake, you pussy.

  He attempted to regulate his breathing and take quick inventory of his injuries. He couldn’t feel much of his body, but could move his toes. The jarring impact did a number on his frame and it felt like he’d received a body slam. Multiple times.

  “Help is coming, man,” a voice he didn’t recognize said.

  “He’s alive? What a miracle.”

  “Hang in there, dude.”

  The ambulance’s siren was a welcome sound. There might also be a fire truck there somewhere.

  “Nate, oh, my God. Nate?”

  “Sylvie,” he croaked.

  Her small hands clasped his left one. Tears wet his fingers and her soft little kisses sent a frisson of awareness up his arm, bringing warmth to his otherwise numb body. She was sobbing and mumbling incoherently.

  “Sylvie . . .”

  “I can’t believe you did that. Oh, my God—”

  “Sylvie . . .” he repeated in a louder voice, squeezing her fingers to get her attention.

  “I … what, Nate?”

  “Tell me you love me, babe.”

  This started a fresh round of sobbing.

  “Nate, you son of a bitch. You scared the shit out of me.”

  Travis.

  “Shut up,” Nate growled. Damn his head was pounding, but all he felt was his heart tightening as it awaited Sylvie’s response. She was saying something, but the words were garbled because she was crying so damn hard.

  “I’m excusing that pissy mood, bro, because you fell off—”

  “Shut up, Blake,” Nate repeated. “Sylvie was—”

  “Sir, ma’am, I need you to step aside—”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Nate yelled and hissed when stabbing pain on his sides almost made him throw up. “Oh, fuck, that hurt.” Definitely broken ribs.

  “Sir, I need you to remain still. I’m going to put the neck brace on you,” the EMT warned.

  “He seems fine to me, if he’s that ornery,” Travis said in a joking but strained voice.

  “Probably hopped up on adrenalin,” the man working on him said shortly. “Numbs the pain.”

  Nate patiently suffered through the EMT’s ministrations and answered the questions. He was anxious to know the extent of his injuries of course, but the quicker they got him off the damned car, the sooner he’d be reunited with his woman. Nate paid little attention to the first responders working on Shelby. He had little sympathy for that motherfucker. Finally, they transferred Nate onto a backboard and then onto a stretcher.