Fuck…
His pulse spiked, even as his skin chilled.
The bastard must have positioned himself behind the brick arch, out of eyesight, and closed in on them as soon as they’d stepped in front of him. He’d moved like a ghost too. Soundless. But then Adam had always been light on his feet.
“Rio, my man,” Adam said with a quick flash of white teeth. “It’s been what? Four, five years?”
The bastard’s tone was easy, even polite—but his eyes were flat. Deadly. Determined. And the fingers around the grip were steady. Hell, that index finger caressing the trigger looked far too capable of carrying out its silent threat.
“Adam.” The ice digging into Rio’s flesh sank deeper. The muscles of his chest tightened around the urgent thud of his heart. “You realize we’re in public? There are witnesses—”
“Which is exactly why you two are going to start walking.” Adam stepped forward. “Now.”
They were dead whether they started walking or not. The cold calculation in the bastard’s eyes announced that loud and clear. Rio itched to reach for the weapon holstered against his side, but he wouldn’t get a shot off before Adam pulled the VP9’s trigger. Becca would be dead before Rio’s bullet hit its mark.
When neither Becca nor Rio stepped forward, Adam jerked Becca toward him by the elbow of her bound arm. She choked back a scream, her face blanching.
“FYI, old buddy,” Adam said, his eyes dipping into the arctic zone. “My Heckler & Koch is under her vest, pointing up—at her heart. I can’t fucking miss. Just so you know.”
Son of a bitch…
Rio might be able to get a shot off before he took a round, doubtful but possible. But there was no fucking way he could take Hart out before Becca took a hit. A fatal hit.
Fuck… fuck… fuck…
His hands tried to shake. He forced them to stillness and started walking.
His only option was following directions, keeping Adam calm and his finger off that trigger while waiting for an opportunity to disarm the bastard without getting Becca killed.
Becca—thank Christ—followed his lead and started walking too, although her coordination was hampered by how tightly Adam was pressed against her side… well that and the cold press of the gun against her flesh. The presence of the VP9 couldn’t be helping. She was handling the situation like a trooper though. While her stride was shaky and her breathing raw, she was keeping her shit together.
“Where to?” Rio asked, scanning the area ahead for possible distractions or opportunities, anything to shift the tide in his favor.
“Your ride,” Adam said in a detached voice. No emotion whatsoever. He glanced down at Becca, but the moment was too fleeting for Rio to take advantage of it. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to track you down?” For the first time emotion throbbed in the cold voice. Pure annoyance. He jerked her arm and smiled at her hiss of pain. “You ditched your hotel. You weren’t staying at Rio’s place.” He paused to scowl. “And there was Rio, playing musical cars with his SEAL backups. I couldn’t even stash a damn tracker on him.”
Rio grimaced. His instincts had been spot on; the bastard had been trying to track Becca down through him.
Adam glanced at Rio, his expression gloating. “But I knew that if Mom was right, if you were checking into that bitch’s death, you’d interview Hilde Birkeland eventually, which meant you’d end up here. I couldn’t believe my luck when the princess showed up with you.”
Princess…
He’d forgotten Adam’s derisive nickname for his half sister.
With a scowl, Adam wrenched Becca’s arm again, and Rio tensed, fighting the urge to jump the bastard. The fucktard was hurting her deliberately. There was no fucking reason for him to be yanking her around like that. She was doing what he’d asked, keeping up, not causing a scene.
“I couldn’t get near you yesterday, not with those two assholes from ST7 surrounding you like fleas on a mongrel. Fuck… I was certain I’d lost my window.”
Son of a bitch! The bastard had been here yesterday? How the fuck had they missed him?
“But then Adele called, asked me what I knew of that damn necklace Mom had given her.” Adam glanced at Rio and smirked. “She told me you’d asked about it this morning. I figured that if you hadn’t asked that old biddy about it yesterday, you’d be back. Guess I was right.”
Frustration seethed through Rio. Recrimination. This whole fucking situation was his fault. His fucking mistake. He should have waited to question Hilde again. He should have brought the new team in and left Becca behind, before heading back out here. Instead, he’d let his damn guard down. He’d gotten complacent.
He’d put Becca in danger.
He was damn lucky that the bastard hadn’t tried to take her out with a rifle again. The stray thought brought a slight frown and a new question.
Why hadn’t he?
He shook the question off. It didn’t matter.
The important thing was keeping the bastard talking, distracted, and off the VP9’s trigger. “You were behind the hit-and-run and the rifle on the rooftop.”
They weren’t questions. Rio was certain Adam had been behind the earlier attempts on Becca’s life. And he’d damn well make sure this third attempt was not charmed.
Adam scowled and shot him a glare. “You fucking ruined that shot. If you hadn’t leaned over to tell her something… if she hadn’t leaned down to respond… well hell… you wouldn’t be in this current pickle.”
Meaning Becca would be dead and he’d be elsewhere.
He gritted his teeth and glanced at Becca. Her face was white. But her eyes were full of trust.
The tight muscles of his chest loosened. No matter what happened, he preferred the current conundrum—with Becca alive and warm beside him, rather than her cold and buried in the ground—even if that put him in Adam’s crosshairs.
“You drive,” Adam snapped the command with a sharp glance at Rio. “Sis and I will share the back… with my good friend Mr. H&K.”
Keep him talking, keep him distracted, keep his finger off the trigger.
“I need to grab the keys.” Rio waited for Adam’s slight nod before sliding his hand into the pocket of his slacks. “How did you pull it off? You were in Florida during the shooting. I checked your flight; you were on it. I checked with your hotel; your key card places you in the room.”
Adam shrugged. “And yet here I am.” He dug the gun into Becca’s side hard enough to make her flinch. “Beep the damn locks.”
Rio did as he was told even though his gut tightened. The closer they got to climbing into that Jeep, the closer they got to their coffins. But there was no fucking alternative. At least not yet.
“How?” Rio pressed him, as they closed on the Jeep, more to keep him occupied than real curiosity. It didn’t matter how the bastard had managed to alibi himself. “Hell, half your board placed you in Florida immediately after the shooting.”
Adam snorted, although a self-satisfied expression touched his face. “Adele didn’t mention that her fiancé is a Brentworth? Of the Brentworths.”
“Of Brentworth Foods?” Hell, Brentworth Foods was on the same scale as the Waltons of Walmart fame.
The shake of Adam’s head held honest bewilderment. “She’s surprisingly reticent about that. Anyway, Preston has his own jet, which he’s quite generous about loaning when asked. The key card was easy. I gave it to Megan… my assistant. Told her get whatever she wanted from room service but to have them leave the cart outside the door.”
One more stride and they’d be at the Renegade. Rio glanced at the pair beside him. Becca had her mother’s diary clutched to her chest like it was the only thing holding her together. Adam still walked beside her, his right hand with the gun under her ballistics vest, his left hand wrapped around her elbow. He was using her as a shield.
But he’d have to let her go when they climbed in the car.
That’s when you move. Use the door like a club.
/> He forced himself to relax. Tensing would give the attack away. Give Adam time to react.
But when Becca stepped forward and reached for the rear door, Adam yanked her back hard enough to produce a choked shriek.
The son of a bitch!
Liquid rage hissed through him, so did the urge to maim.
“Uh-uh-uh,” Adam chided him, that earlier cold sheen glossing his eyes. “You get in first. Hands on the wheel. Do not start the car. It will take a second, tops, to pull this trigger. She’ll bleed out before you can check for a pulse.”
An icy trickle of sweat slithered down Rio’s spine. He tensed. Gritted his teeth. He might be able to draw and line up a shot, but Becca would pay the price.
Quite possibly the only thing that stopped Adam from killing them and leaving their bodies in the Jeep was the white sedan that turned onto the street behind them.
Adam shifted his body to conceal the gun partially hidden beneath Becca’s ballistics vest and waited for the car to pass by. Except, in a stroke of pure luck, the sedan pulled up behind the Jeep.
They had witnesses now.
Adam stepped closer to Becca, turning her slightly until she faced Rio.
“I will pull this trigger,” Adam snarled, his detached gaze glued to Rio’s face. “You might be able to take me out but not before I take her with me. Get in the fucking Jeep.”
The bastard wasn’t bullshitting. He was determined and deadly. The only thing the sedan had brought them was a slight reprieve. As Rio slid into the driver’s seat, car doors slammed behind them. Voices drifted on the light breeze. Rio’s fingers twitched, eased their pressure on the wheel, as he debated going for his weapon.
“I wouldn’t,” Adam said, as though he’d read his mind. “The only thing that’s changed is our position. My little friend is still in place. It will still do maximum damage before you can do a damn thing. Don’t be a fucking hero. It will just get her killed.”
The bastard was right. Rio gritted his teeth. Tightened his rigid fingers around the wheel.
Think, dammit. Think.
Becca slid into the back seat with Adam pressed against her left side. The passenger door closed with a sharp crack.
“Close your fucking door,” Adam ordered.
Rio complied, dragging the door closed as a middle-aged couple passed by.
Adam caught Rio’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Good boy. Now drive.”
Adam wouldn’t kill them here, not when the couple in the sedan had seen the three of them next to the Jeep. Not when he could be identified. Not when there were witnesses.
Which meant they’d gotten a reprieve. Not much of one though. Adam would act as soon as he found a quiet, secluded spot.
Rio’s hand was rigid as it shoved the key in the ignition and cranked the engine. They were fucking screwed if he didn’t come up with a counterstrategy fast.
Becca pressed back against the Jeep’s upholstered backrest and locked down the agony radiating through her shoulder into her arm and across her chest. If she showed how much Adam’s jerking and yanking had hurt—continued to hurt—she could expect more of the same. Her half brother had always enjoyed inflicting pain on others, as long as his targets were smaller and weaker than himself.
That obviously hadn’t changed through the years.
Neither had his hatred of her.
But why? Why did his loathing of her run so deep? Deep enough to incite murder. She glanced over the back of the driver’s seat at Rio’s chiseled cheek. A double murder if Adam killed Rio. Maybe even a triple murder, if he’d slain her mother.
“Why are you doing this?” Becca asked, a decade of suppressed questions and emotions erupting to the surface and off her tongue. “What have I ever done to you?”
“Hey, don’t blame your current situation on me.” He shifted slightly, his jeans making a shushing sound against the fabric upholstery. The arctic-blue gaze he turned on her was too calculating to match his chiding tone. “You’re forcing me to do this. If you hadn’t gone to the police and gotten your whore of a mother’s case reopened, you wouldn’t be in this position.” The gun dug harder into her side. “But no. You wouldn’t back off. You had to keep pushing. This is your fault, not mine.”
Her fault?
He was blaming her for those first two murder attempts, as well as this third one? He was crazy. Certifiable. Which should have spawned terror. Instead, a seed of rage sprouted.
Why would he care if the suicide was reopened? Why care if the police investigated the case again? Unless he’d killed her mother.
“You killed Mom, didn’t you?” It was the only thing that made sense. The anger burned hotter, deeper.
Adam ignored the question; instead, he leaned forward, resting a palm against the back of the driver’s seat. “Turn here.”
The pressure against her side eased. She tensed. If she could knock the gun aside, shove it out of the vest—but even as the plan hit, the pistol dug back into her waist, and Adam settled beside her again.
Too late.
The street Rio turned onto was quiet. Shady. Sedate. Lined with older homes and huge oak trees. The perfect neighborhood to raise a family or commit a murder.
If she was going to die, she wanted to know why. She wanted to know what had happened to her mother and who had blown apart her idyllic childhood.
“Did you kill her?” It came out as a demand this time, rather than a question.
Adam glanced at her, surprise on his face. His shoulders lifted and fell in an unconcerned shrug.
“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” He frowned, scratched at his forehead with his free hand. “I went over to talk to her. To demand that she leave Dad alone… us alone.” A dark, ugly stain spread across his face. “The bastard couldn’t even spare the time to come to one of my ball games, and we were supposed to share him? With her? With you? With a new fucking family?” His gaze turned flat and muddy. “He was leaving Mom for some skank? Adele for you? Me for this new baby boy? Yeah… I don’t think so.” The last sentence was gritted out through his clenched teeth. For a long moment nothing but ragged breathing filled the car. But then he stirred. A deep breath lifted his chest. “I just wanted to tell her to back the fuck off. But then she tried to… the stupid bitch tried to hug me.”
His face twisted, and he shoved the gun so hard against her side she knew it would leave an imprint as well as an ugly bruise. She flinched back, her heart clawing its way up her throat, praying the gun wouldn’t go off.
“She tried to hug me,” he ground out again. “She kept saying everything would turn out fine. That we were going to be one big happy family.” He scowled. “Like we were a fucking happy family to begin with.”
“So you killed her,” Rio said, catching Becca’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He frowned and jerked his gaze toward the left—toward Adam.
What’s he trying to tell me?
“Well, not intentionally. I didn’t mean to. I was just so angry. I don’t even remember wrapping my hands around her neck.” He shook himself and shrugged.
The gun eased back slightly.
I don’t even remember wrapping my hands around her neck…
Adam’s words echoed through her mind, twisting her stomach and skinning her heart. Her mother had been trying to comfort him? And she’d paid for her sympathy with her life.
Becca took a deep breath and forced the rage and sorrow aside. She had to stay focused, ready to react at a moment’s notice. There was too much at stake to let his description of her mother’s murder distract her.
“And then you moved in with us.”
The frigid eyes that locked on Becca’s face were so full of hate she shuddered.
“All of a sudden I was living with a fucking ghost and the constant reminder that I hadn’t mattered to him. That we hadn’t mattered to him. The constant reminder that he’d chosen her and you over us.”
That’s why he’d hated her? Still hated her? Because she reminded him of her mothe
r?
Becca bit her bottom lip hard enough the copper, metallic taste of blood touched her mouth. The vitriol in his voice was stunning. He wasn’t trying to hide the hate now. His venom had transformed his face into a twisted, wretched caricature of himself.
“Who helped you stage the body? You couldn’t have hung her from the railing yourself,” Rio asked. His concerned gaze caught Becca’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and some of the horror tightening Becca’s chest eased.
“I called Mom, and she called Dad.” Adam’s face tightened. A muscle started twitching in his cheek. “Dad cried when he saw her. Fucking cried. He was going to turn me in. Have me arrested!” His face seemed to glow, as though the rage was seeping out the pores of his skin and lighting his face on fire. “The only reason he backed down was because of you.” The look he tossed her was volcanic. “Mom reminded him that you were all alone now. That you’d go into the foster system. She told him the only way she’d agree to let you move in with us was if he made that whore’s death go away.”
Becca’s teeth clicked when he called her mother a whore, but she managed to bury the rest of her reaction.
His explanation had enlightened her on one thing. She’d always wondered why Lena had allowed her to move in with them. Her stepmother hadn’t tried to hide her antagonism—at least when witnesses were absent. Nor was Lena subservient to her husband. She’d been perfectly capable of refusing Becca entrance to her home. Yet she hadn’t…
…because she’d traded Becca’s presence in her life for her husband’s cover-up of his mistress’s murder…
“How did Lena end up with the necklace?”
Becca jolted slightly at Rio’s question. She’d forgotten about the necklace. Trust Rio to keep track of all the details.
“Mother took it before Dad got there. She said it should have gone to Adele.” Adam’s voice was detached, as though he didn’t have strong opinions on the subject one way or another. “Apparently the damn thing had been passed down from great-grandmother Hart. It was one of the only legacy pieces Dad had to pass on.” Adam’s face darkened again. “So of course he gave it to that fucking bitch.”
Loyalty Under Fire (Operation: Hot Spot Book 3) Page 16