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Javier Cetro smiled down at Olivia. He looked just as she remembered.
Tanned skin. Dark, wavy hair. That jagged scar running from the corner of one eye to his jawline.
And those eyes. She’d never forget those cold, evil eyes. Oh, God. Not him!
Moving with lightning speed, she tried to slam the door shut, but Cetro stuck his large boot between the door and its frame. He pushed against it from the outside and Olivia lost her balance.
She stumbled over and back, falling against the end table next to her couch. The candlestick lamp there started to fall forward, but Olivia grabbed it. Screaming like a banshee, she swung it back around toward her attacker.
Cetro threw his arm up to block it. Instead of the lamp hitting his head as she’d intended, its base slammed into his forearm.
It went flying back toward her kitchen, landing with a loud clanging sound. Cetro growled, baring his teeth like some sort of wild animal as he continued his advance.
My gun. I have to get to my gun.
Spinning away from him, Olivia began to run through her living room. She’d only made it a few steps when the full weight of his body slammed into her back.
They fell onto her coffee table, its glass top shattering the moment they hit. Olivia cried out, but then ignored the biting pain in her left arm as she scrambled to find a pointed piece of glass to use as a weapon.
Her fingers brushed over one almost immediately and she grabbed it. With as much strength as she could, Olivia flung her arm backward and jammed the large shard into the flesh of his upper arm. Then, she twisted.
The glass was cutting the insides of her fingers and palm, but she didn’t care. This man had already taken so much from her. I can’t let him take me again.
Cetro roared, his grip on her loosening just enough for her to wiggle out from beneath him. While he was busy pulling the glass from his arm, Olivia got to her feet and ran around the end of her couch.
She mentally kicked herself for not bringing the gun with her when she answered the door for Trevor earlier. She realized now, how incredibly stupid that decision had been.
If she made it out of this alive, she would never, ever keep her gun this far from the door again.
Gun...door...Mudroom!
Just then, Olivia remembered Pops’ shotgun. She’d put on a shelf by the mudroom door when she’d first moved in, and had completely forgotten about it until now.
In a split-second decision, she decided to try for the shotgun rather than her pistol in the bedroom. Olivia made it halfway around the back of the couch, and was between it and the open entryway to her kitchen when Cetro surprised her by jumping over the piece of furniture.
He looked like some sort of action movie hero. Too bad he was the villain.
Olivia screamed and jumped out of the way. He narrowly missed her, and she knew she needed to do something to put some distance between them if she had any hopes of retrieving her gun in time.
Grabbing the first thing she could find, Olivia picked up one of the wooden chairs from her kitchen table and threw it at him.
Anticipating the move, Cetro caught two of its legs with both hands and threw the chair to the side, causing it to crash against the front door. It broke into several pieces on impact.
Olivia tried to turn away, but she wasn’t fast enough. Cetro’s fist slammed into her left temple and cheekbone, and she flew sideways, grunting when her right hip hit the countertop next to her stove.
Her hand knocked against her coffee mug holder and several of the porcelain cups fell from the wooden stand. Some landed on the white countertop, others shattering as they hit the kitchen floor.
Ignoring the spots flashing before her eyes and the throbbing pain from the cuts on her hand and arm, Olivia fought to regain control.
Still stunned from the blow, her right hand bumped clumsily against her wooden knife block. The blades went flying over the burners on her stove.
Scrambling quickly, Olivia picked up one of the knives—not an easy task to accomplish with the amount of slick blood coating her palm and fingers. With a painfully tight grip, she held onto that knife for dear life.
Squeezing its hilt with all she had, Olivia took a deep breath, determined to hit an artery this time. She braced herself for the move, but before she had the opportunity to swing the knife around, Cetro was behind her. His body trapping hers against the counter.
He wrapped an arm around her chest, pinning her left arm against her own body, and used his right hand to grab the one holding the knife.
Yanking it back on her forearm, he slammed her wrist down onto the counter’s edge. Olivia cried out, but somehow managed to keep hold of the knife.
It was her only defense. If she lost it, she was dead.
Cetro repeated the move. Over and over—each hit harder than the one before it—until she heard the sickening snap of her bones. Olivia screamed, nearly blinded by the stabbing pain.
The broken bones made it impossible for Olivia to keep hold of the knife’s hilt. It bounced off the counter and fell to the floor with a clang, her hopes of surviving plummeting right along with it.
Olivia was then pulled back against his chest and spun sideways so she was facing her living room. With a hard push, she felt herself flying forward.
Unable to stop the motion, she cried out again when she landed hard, her injured hand making it nearly impossible to break her fall.
The side of her face throbbed from where he’d punched her, and her left arm was sticky and wet from the deep cut there. The pain in her wrist was the worst.
It felt like someone was poking it with a hot branding iron, and Olivia had to fight against the urge to vomit.
Unable to stop him, Cetro flipped her over onto her back. She did her best to fight him off. Swinging at him with her good fist. Kicking as hard as she could.
Even as she fought, Olivia knew it was useless. She was going to die today. I’m so sorry, Jake.
Tears fell across her temples as she looked into the eyes of a monster.
“You may as well stop fighting, puta. I am not going to kill you. Not here, anyway. No, I have big plans for you. It’s finally time you pay for what you’ve done.”
Olivia opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell but was stopped by a second blow to her face. Then, there was only blessed darkness.
****
Normally, riding his horse took Jake’s stress away. Today, however, as Champ slowly trotted him back toward the barn, his heart remained heavy.
From the moment Olivia left, everything had felt empty. His house. His bedroom. His heart.
He’d fucked up, and it may very well have cost him the most important person in his life. He should have told her. Should have told Mike to go fuck himself when he asked him to keep his secret all those years ago.
Mike had used Jake’s feelings for Olivia against him. Had convinced Jake that, by keeping his secret, he was protecting her.
Sure, he understood Mike’s position, but goddammit. There was more than one way a person could get hurt.
Good intentions or not, he still should have had the balls to refuse Mike’s request. Jake should have trusted Olivia enough to tell her the truth sooner. Hell, he should have told her a million times before now, but he’d been too fucking scared.
She’d been through so much. He didn’t think she could handle learning her dead brother wasn’t really dead, on top of everything else.
And that right there was the problem.
Jake had always underestimated Liv. So had Mike. They’d spent their lives trying to protect her the best way they knew how, but she’d been right all along.
Olivia didn’t always need his protection. She needed a partner. An equal.
She needed someone to stand by her side, not in front of her while barking orders. Jake hadn’t seen it that way ten years ago, so he’d gone along with Mike’s plea for silence, to keep Olivia from getting hurt.
“Yeah, and how did that work out for you, asshole?” Jake chastised himself. Champ sneezed then shook his head as if he were agreeing.
“I know, buddy.”
Leaning down, Jake patted the right side of his horse’s neck with a gloved hand. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”
This time, Champ remained silent, and he figured that was about as good an answer as any.
He wondered if Trevor had made any progress today. Desperate, he wanted to call his friend and ask him what Liv had said. But, hell. He wasn’t some junior-high kid asking his friend to pass notes to the girl he likes during study hall.
Jake had to keep some part of his man card, even if it was just a tiny, torn off corner. Damn, if his curiosity wasn’t eating him up inside, though.
Back at the barn, he’d just finished brushing down Champ and was latching his stable’s gate when Coop walked in.
Jake glanced up at the other man’s face. Coop’s expression had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
“What’s wrong?”
Coop’s brows turned inward. “You talk to Ryker?”
Damn. Now those hairs were screaming at him. “No. Why?”
“You need to call him. Says it’s about Olivia.”
Jake’s entire body immediately tensed up, his nerve endings tingling. “What about her?” he stepped closer to his teammate. “Is she okay?”
“Far as I know. Mac talked to her about two hours ago. She tried calling her just now, but she didn’t answer. Mac wasn’t overly concerned, though. When she talked to her before, Olivia was getting ready to go into work. Said she’d picked up an extra shift or something.”
Jake relaxed his shoulders. Mac had talked with her recently, and she’d been fine. Plus, Trevor should have made it to Liv’s house and been gone by now. He would have called if something were wrong.
“So, what’s the problem?”
Coop shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t know. Ryker just said to call him ASAP.”
Shit. His shoulders tensed up again. Needing some uninterrupted time to think, Jake had purposely ignored his phone when he’d been out riding. It would ring, and he’d look to see if it was Olivia.
When it wasn’t, he’d shove it back into his pocket. The way she’d left the other day, he didn’t actually expect her to call. That didn’t stop him from praying it was her each time his phone would buzz.
Not wanting to talk to anyone but her, he’d let Ryker’s calls go to voicemail. Assuming he was calling about a new job, Jake hadn’t bothered to check any of the other man’s messages yet.
Ryker knew he’d taken himself out of commission, though. Now, Jake had to wonder...why all the calls?
He’d been so up in his own head, worrying about pulling his ass out of the mess he’d made with her, he hadn’t been thinking clearly.
He should have known, if Ryker was calling him on his down time, he needed to answer his damn phone. And Coop said it had to do with Olivia. Fuck!
Jake broke into a sprint, running from the barn to the house, his phone to his ear as he tried to get through to the Homeland agent.
The first three times he called, it went straight to voicemail. Jake didn’t bother to leave a message. Instead, he ended the calls and immediately tried again.
By the time he reached his house, Jake’s heart was slamming against his chest. Not from the uphill run, but because he knew in his gut that something was wrong.
On the fourth try, Ryker finally answered. “About damn time you call me back, McQueen.”
“What do you know?”
“Shit, you didn’t check your messages, did you?”
“Don’t fuck me around, Ryker. What’s happened?”
A loud sigh hit his ear. “You need to get to your girl, and stay with her.”
Fear assaulted him, his steps faltering as he entered his house. “Why?”
Not that he needed a reason to keep Liv safe. Jake would always do that, but right now, he needed answers. He just wasn’t ready for the one he got.
“Cetro.”
Ryker’s one-word response stunned him. Jake stopped moving altogether. He closed his eyes as he spoke. “Explain. And, I swear to God, Jason...you’d better not feed me any bullshit on this.”
“The short of it? Cetro escaped, and word is he blames Olivia for his brother’s death.” There was a slight pause and then, “He’s going after her, Jake.”
Jake’s eyes flew open. “What the fuck?”
Jake ran to his kitchen and grabbed the keys to his truck from the counter. He continued talking as he stalked down the hall toward what Jake called the war room.
Mac—who’d apparently come with Coop to deliver Ryker’s message—abandoned the cup of coffee she’d been making, and she and Coop followed closely behind. They all went straight for the enormous safe at the back of the room.
“He’s supposed to be locked up!” Jake growled. “What the hell happened?”
He quickly pressed his palm against the biometric scanner to gain access. A second later, the loud click told him it was unlocked.
While Ryker explained the very fucked up situation, Jake and the other two began choosing from the extra weapons and ammo available. Coop and Mac hadn’t tried to ask what was going down, yet. They simply followed their boss’s lead.
Needing them in on this, and not wanting to waste time repeating it all, Jake secured the extra pistol, currently in his hand, to the ankle holster beneath his pant leg before taking the phone from his ear and putting it on speaker.
“There was a major storm in the area where Cetro was being held.” Ryker’s voice echoed through the room, along with Coop’s and Mac’s curses. “The jail flooded and authorities were forced to evacuate all prisoners. Those in custody were being transported to another, more secure corrections facility nearby, when their van hydroplaned. They were going around a sharp curve and lost control. It rolled several times. Both the driver and the officer keeping guard in the back were pronounced dead at the scene, along with two of the other men in custody. Cetro survived, and somehow managed to get the guard’s keys. He and another prisoner were gone by the time the wreck was discovered. The only other prisoner to survive was unconscious when emergency personnel arrived, so he couldn’t give us any information.”
“Ah, hell,” A little bit of Mac’s southern heritage slipped out with her frustrated response.
Coop let out a loud, “Sonofabitch”.
Jake spoke to the other two as he secured the safe, and the three of them headed to Jake’s truck. “Mac, keep trying Liv. Sean, call the rest of the team in. Have them meet us at her place. Mac can give you her address. Call Trevor first. He shouldn’t be too far from there. Tell him to turn around. He’s not to leave her sight until we get there. Tell him to sit on her if he has to.”
Speaking to Ryker again, Jake asked, “How long ago did this happen?”
If it was within the last couple hours, there’d be no immediate threat to Olivia. He knew where Javier Cetro was being held, and it was several hours from them.
Even if the bastard had managed to find a vehicle immediately upon escaping, he’d still be hundreds of miles away.
They had plenty of time to make the drive to Olivia’s hospital. He’d get her the hell out of there, and take her somewhere safe.
She’d probably put up a fight, but this was one time he would not back down. He’d sedate her ass if he had to. She may hate him, right now, but fuck it. At least she’d be alive.
Jake still couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard about this. He hadn’t been watching much television lately, so it was possible he’d missed what would have been a breaking news story.
None of his team had mentioned anything to him about it, either. Surely one of the other five would have heard about this. At the very least, Derek should have gotten some sort of alert, unless—
Jake realized Ryker hadn’t answered him, yet. He looked at his phone, thinking maybe they’d lost connection, but the duration timer at the top of the screen was still counting up.
Ryker was still on the line, so why the hell wasn’t the guy talking? A horrifying thought slammed into him, and Jake prayed his suspicions were wrong.
“Answer the fucking question, Ryker,” Jake ordered with a barely controlled temper. “When did this happen?”
“I know you’re upset, Jake, but I promise my people are on this.”
Jake didn’t miss the way Ryker had skirted around giving a direct answer.
After placing his weapons in the metal toolbox attached to his truck bed, Jake swung the driver’s door open and jumped inside.
He slammed his door shut, and placed his phone on the dash holder before starting the ignition. Coop climbed in the passenger seat next to him, and Mac took the seat in the back.
“How fucking long?” Jake yelled as he spun his truck around and sped down his long driveway. The obvious silence was telling, making Jake’s gut burn.
Ryker finally answered, “The storm hit a few weeks ago. Look, Jake—”
There was a lot of cursing in the truck, just then. The loudest coming from Jake.
“Jesus fucking Christ! You’ve known this psycho was running around free for weeks and you didn’t tell me? Didn’t warn Olivia?”
“Hell, no!” Ryker shot back. “I just found out about it an hour ago. Which, by the way, was when I started calling you. Apparently, it’s an election year down there, and the authorities wanted the escape kept quiet.”
Oh, God. Jake was sick at heart. Doing his best to focus on what would help Liv, he asked, “What’s Cetro’s end game?”
Ryker spoke quickly. “According to the prisoner in custody, the guy’s gone completely off the chains. He blames Olivia for his brother’s death. I remember from her statement when you guys returned from Venezuela that the boy was pretty much dead before she ever had a chance to try to help him, but she did everything she could to save him anyway.”
“She did.” Not that she’d been in a position to refuse.
When they’d been hiding out in the jungle together, Olivia had told Jake how, while being held captive by Cetro, she’d been forced to try to save his brother. The kid was wounded during a gun battle between Cetro’s crew and the people they’d gone after that time. Despite Olivia’s efforts, the young man had died.
“Right. So, Cetro’s brother dies, and with you and your team’s help, Olivia escapes. Fast forward a few days, and your team goes after him and the others. He’s caught and taken to jail. The guy loses it. Uses his time in custody to plan his revenge against your girl. The wreck provided him with the perfect opportunity, and with the help of his new buddy, he tracks her down. Not hard to do for a man with his connections. He starts watching her, waiting for the perfect time.”
Another thought occurred to him. “Jason, Olivia was being stalked. She was attacked a few days ago while I was in the city taking care of some business.” Something he still couldn’t forgive himself for. “Trevor was with her. He was hit in the chest, but had on a vest. Olivia was banged up and almost taken, but Trevor woke up in time to take the guy out. Man’s name was Carlos Hernandez. Derek didn’t find anything, but there has to be a connection there.”
“I’ll have my guy look into it.”
Jake’s head spun as he continued to drive. He’d just stood there and watched as she walked out his door with Mac three days ago...alone.
His ears filled with the sound of his blood rushing through them. The phone calls, the fucking snake...he slammed the palm of his free hand against his steering wheel.
“Goddammit!” How had he not seen it?
Jake wanted to pull over to the side of the road and throw up, but he couldn’t waste a single minute getting to Liv.
To Ryker, he barked, “We’ll keep trying to get ahold of her. You hear anything new, I don’t care how fucking small it is, you call me. Immediately.”
“I will. And I’m sorry, Jake. I’d have called sooner had I known.”
Without another word, Jake ended the call and immediately tried Olivia again. He didn’t need Ryker’s damn apology. He needed to know his woman was okay.
She didn’t answer his call. He tried again and again, but always got the same result. The sick feeling that had started in his gut the second Coop entered his barn worsened with every second he didn’t hear her voice.
Not giving up hope, he started to dial the hospital, but Coop’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Already called the hospital, boss. She’s not there. She, uh...she never showed for her shift.”
Oh, God. Was he too late? Jake hit number two on his call list. Trevor answered immediately.
“Tell me you’re there.”
“Ten minutes out. You?”
Fuck. “I’m half an hour behind you.”
Jake looked at his speedometer and pushed down his accelerator. The distance he still had to cover should have normally taken him another forty-five minutes at least, but Jake had been breaking land speed records since his tires hit the highway.
“I was there less than twenty minutes ago, Jake. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“The hospital said she didn’t show for her shift, Trev.”
Trevor waited a beat and then said, “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She was pretty emotional when I left. Maybe she’s taking some time to pull herself together.
Jake wanted to believe that. “Call the second you get to her place.”
“Roger that.”
Jake ended the call, and for what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes, he tried calling Liv again.
