Chapter Twenty-Seven

Eric turned off Main Street onto the rural road that would take them to the mansion. Behind them, his friends and their K-9s followed at a safe distance. A few other marked and unmarked units were already staged near the house to back them up, if needed, and to secure the location if they got PC to search the house.

Tess sat beside him, occasionally chewing on her bottom lip and fingering the beaded fringe of the scarf around her neck. It was the one he’d bought her in town. For someone about to walk into an F5 shitstorm that would make the average hurricane seem like an inconsequential blip on the radar, she was relatively calm. Scary calm.

Dayne had hit the mark when he’d said she had a serious pair, for a woman or a man. She might be only five-two and about a hundred and ten pounds, but she had the heart of a lioness.

Tiger’s muzzle rested on his right shoulder, the dog’s warm breath tickling his neck. They often drove that way, particularly when Tiger sensed Eric was tense.

Tense?

It was a joke to use that word to describe what he was feeling because it barely skimmed the surface.

When they arrived at the house, he’d be mere feet away from Harley Gant without being able to lay so much as a hand on him. As he imagined snapping cuffs on the man, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Given what he was thinking, he could only imagine the turmoil in Tess’s mind. Facing that bastard again after all these years wasn’t going to be easy.

Damn, I’ve been a fool. An insensitive idiot for not understanding what she’d been through. For not forgiving.

To keep from punching out the window, he gripped the wheel tighter.

Tiger’s intelligent gaze met his in the rearview mirror. His dog watched him expectantly, as if he understood what was in Eric’s head and was waiting for him to act on it.

A deer leaped onto the road, and he slowed the Interceptor. There was so much he wanted to say, but this was hardly the time. Besides, he didn’t know exactly what he would say. For starters, how ’bout sorry I was a total dickhead?

She was staring out the passenger window, focusing on the side view mirror. “Do you really think this plan will work?” she asked in a tight voice.

After braking at a four-way stop, he didn’t immediately step on the gas. “I honestly don’t know.” The only thing he was sure of was that somehow, Tess and Jesse had become sacrificial lambs in all this.

If necessary, sacrifice the few to save the many.

That’s what the brass had said to him before they’d finalized the plan last night.

Not if I can help it.

She shifted to face him. “I’m scared to death of what he’ll do to Jesse. We betrayed him, and he won’t forgive that. He doesn’t have it in him. He’ll see it as mutiny.”

“It’s not a great plan,” he admitted. “But between all of us escorting you to the front door, plus the other teams stationed nearby and a chopper in the air, you’ll be safe.” Until she walked through the front door.

He raked a hand through his hair. Then she’ll be alone.

Right at that moment, he didn’t know who he was angrier at, Gant—or himself.

As he made the final turn onto the street leading to the house, he caught sight of the anxious expression on her face and clasped her hand, threading his fingers with hers. He gave her hand a quick squeeze then released it and shifted his focus back to the road.

A minute later, they arrived.

Even though he’d pored over details of the location for tactical disadvantages, seeing it in real life now sent simultaneous jolts of anticipation and anxiety coursing through his system. Inside that house was the man responsible for murdering his friends. The prospect of seeing Gant again fanned the embers of revenge that, over time, had been reduced to a soft glow. Now, those flames flickered to life, whipping back and forth, luring him closer to the goal he’d been after for a very long time.

They turned in the driveway, and more of what he already knew was confirmed. The mansion was a three-story brick structure, complete with two turrets, giving it a castle-like appearance. Situated in the middle of a grassy plot, and with no apple trees for a good hundred feet all around, he guessed Gant had chosen it for strategic reasons. There’d be no sneaking up on him from any direction. Not with all the cameras attached to the facade. Which meant…

They know we’re here.

There was no telling how many goons were inside with Gant.

Twenty feet from the front door, he stopped the SUV and shifted it into park. As planned, his friends parked their vehicles in a semicircle facing the front door.

Woof. Tiger paced back and forth in the kennel, leaving Eric wondering if his dog had already scented explosive material wafting through the vents.

“Easy, boy.” When Tiger thrust his head through the opening, panting, he stroked the dog’s head, trying to calm him, but it didn’t work. Tiger was becoming more agitated by the second.

“Ready?” he said to Tess, but she didn’t answer him. “Tess?” He touched her shoulder to find she was trembling. It was slight, but it was there. “You okay?” Slowly, she nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.

Dayne, Matt, Nick, and Kade stood nearby with their K-9s, awaiting his direction. Eric held up his hand, indicating he needed a few minutes.

“Remember, if something goes wrong, you get out of there, and you get out fast.” He waited for her nod of understanding. “If I don’t see you walking out that door in fifteen minutes, I’m coming in after you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled or at least tried to. Her selfless attempt to put him at ease after the way he’d treated her floored him. If he weren’t sitting, he’d have fallen to his knees.

In that moment, something inside his heart broke free. His future was right there before his eyes and she was in it, front and center until the day he died. She was the one he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

“Turn me on.” She pivoted on the seat, lifting the hem of her shirt to expose the body wire transmitter he’d taped to the small of her back.

Reluctantly, he hooked the tiny switch with his thumb, turning on the device. When she turned back to face him, his heart threatened to gallop right out of his chest.

“I don’t want you to do this,” he said, knowing they were transmitting live over the radio and not caring a damn who heard him.

“I have to face him. This is as much my battle as it is yours.” For a moment, her lower lip trembled, then her jaw went hard. “Let’s do this.” She tugged the scarf from her neck, letting it drop to the seat.

Before he could stop her, she was out of the SUV and storming to the front door.

…

Tess blew past the other men and their K-9s. In Matt’s hand was the device that would track her location via the subcutaneous bug he’d injected in her arm.

Don’t stop. Don’t look at them or you’ll lose your nerve.

Her heart hammered as she took the last few steps to the massive wooden front door of the house. Two cameras were tucked into the underside of the portico. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand, readying to knock, when the door swung open. A man stood on the threshold. One she’d never seen before. He was tall, towering over her, and built like an ox.

He opened the door wider and stepped aside for her to enter. As she did, he looked past her and grunted. “Harley said you wouldn’t come alone.”

The door shut behind her and the deadbolt slammed home, echoing in the marble-tiled foyer. The place might be plunked down in the middle of rural New Jersey, but Boss Vincent Mangano had spared no expense.

A wide staircase with elaborate wrought iron railings swept gracefully to the second-floor bedrooms. Two spacious rooms flanked the base of the stairs, a living room to the left and a den with floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the right. Long hallways cloaked in shadow ran along either side of the staircase, leading to the back of the house. There were several closed doors, one most likely leading to the kitchen, the others perhaps to a closet or a pantry. According to old FBI intel reports Dayne had pulled on Mangano, there was also a basement that many informants had speculated was a repository for stolen goods.

The door adjacent to the right side of the staircase swung open. Tess’s heart beat painfully against her ribs, and she held her breath. A man came through the door.

Mark Pritchard.

The breath she’d been holding left in a whoosh. Her hands trembled. She’d been dreading her “reunion” with Harley but being near Pritchard again was equally as frightening. The last time she’d seen him, she’d done a bang-up job of racking his balls. He’d make her pay for that.

Thick-soled boots clumped as he came to stand in front of her. She thrust her chin out, wishing she were more courageous than she actually felt. Oddly, he didn’t say a word, but his gaze raked over her body in a way that made her shudder.

“Well, Pritchard?” she asked, wanting Eric to know who else was there with her. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Pritchard’s eyes narrowed, then he yanked up the hem of her shirt. She opened her mouth, about to scream, when someone else’s hand clamped over her mouth. Pritchard grabbed her wrists, yanking them over her head. She struggled, but he was far too strong, holding her arms high enough that she had to stand on her toes or have her arms torn from their sockets.

His eyes widened, then he ripped the microphone from her bra, yanking off the wire and transmitter taped to her back.

A door creaked. Vaguely, she registered a third man in the foyer then a piece of duct tape replaced the hand over her mouth. She tried screaming, but it was no use. The sound that came out barely registered.

Pritchard yanked her arms down. The third man quickly bound her wrists in more duct tape. She twisted and squirmed, trying to free herself when Pritchard backhanded her across the face. Pain exploded in her head. Her vision blurred. Only the other man’s arm around her waist kept her from hitting the tile.

Pritchard glared at the man standing behind her. “For fuck’s sake, Russo. Can’t you control one little bitch?” He hitched his head behind him. “Get the kid,” he said to the other man.

Tess breathed heavily beneath the duct tape, barely able to suck in enough air. The side of her face throbbed, and she shook her head to clear it.

Jesse came through one of the doors in the back of the hall, stumbling as he was shoved into the foyer. His mouth and hands were also duct taped, but that wasn’t what had her heart nearly stopping. Over his shirt was a vest. Strapped to the vest were wires and narrow briquettes of what could only be one thing.

Explosives.

She began shaking her head in disbelief. Silent sobs rose in her throat. No. Please, no. Every ounce of fight she’d been about to unload fled.

“That’s more like it.” Pritchard smiled. “Now that I have your attention, baby brother is wired with enough C4 to blow his head into the ceiling and paint the walls with his intestines. So, you’ll do exactly as I say.” He pulled a slim device—a detonator—from his back pocket. “Or bye-bye Jesse.”

Jesse’s face was pasty white, and his chest rose and fell unsteadily. He wasn’t well, that much was clear. Uttering a soft cry beneath the tape, she nodded.

“That’s my girl.” Pritchard grabbed her breasts, squeezing them so hard she cried out, but the sound was more of a muffled squeak. “Always knew you’d grow up to have nice tits. Tonight, we’ll have more time together. Alone.” He grinned then gave her breasts one last squeeze.

Tess swallowed the rising bile in her throat. If this was any indication of things to come, she and Jesse were in desperate trouble. But with Eric and the other officers right outside, there was no way Pritchard would get away with this.

“Let’s move.” He hitched his head to the back of the staircase.

Two of the men shoved Jesse through one of the doors. Russo propelled her through the same door, then down a flight of stairs into the basement.

A full-size pool table stood in the center of the room, with an elaborate chandelier hanging directly above it. To the side was a full bar with rows of top-shelf whisky and vodka lining the wall. Expensive leather sofas took up the other side of the room, with a giant flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. Shiny hardwood floors gleamed, as did the matching floor-to-ceiling paneling.

Tess estimated that only a few minutes had passed since she’d gone into the house. There were still more than ten minutes before Eric would come in after her, but he’d have to know by now that the body wire had been found. They’d expected that, so it wouldn’t be enough for them to come after her. Yet.

None of this makes any sense.

The two men whose names she didn’t know now had pistols in their hands, but to what end? It didn’t matter that they were in the basement. The small army of cops outside would still hear the gunshot. Shooting her and Jesse would land them in jail for the rest of their lives. What were they going to do, dig a hole to China?

A soft click came to her ears, followed by the rush of air past her face. One of the panels on the wall popped forward, creating a two-foot-wide opening. Pritchard went through the opening. A click, then a light came on.

Her heart hammered faster. This is not good.

The crafty old mobster must have hired a master carpenter to create a hidden room, but that still didn’t explain how Pritchard planned to escape undetected, let alone with two hostages. Or two bodies.

Pritchard reentered the basement. “Years ago, Harley met an old mob boss—Mangano—at a restaurant in New Orleans. Turns out the IRS had pissed him off, too. You can imagine the instantaneous camaraderie. Mangano offered Harley use of the house anytime he wanted.”

Tess still didn’t understand what was happening. She looked at Jesse, who could barely stand.

Pritchard opened the panel door wider, and she had visions of an enormous cavern stocked floor-to-ceiling with stolen swag, weapons, and bodies.

The men motioned for Jesse to go through first, followed by Tess, with the man named Russo taking up the rear. Lighting inside the room was dim, and the air was dank and musty. She squinted, trying to gauge the size of her surroundings, but couldn’t. Something about the room felt…off.

Another click, and more lights successively flickered to life. Tess could only stare in horror as the room kept growing. They weren’t standing in a room at all. Her thought about them digging a hole to China hadn’t been that far off the mark.

They were standing at one end of a tunnel. One with no end in sight.

Two large blue golf carts stood twenty feet away. Another bad sign. If they needed golf carts to get to wherever they were going, then the end zone had to be pretty far away.

The old mobster had taken a page right out of a drug lord’s playbook and dug himself a tunnel. A tunnel to where?

The door behind them clicked shut. They were underground. Radioactive or not, the subcutaneous tracker in her arm might not have enough juice to send a signal back to Matt’s receiver, which meant…

No one would know where she was or where they were going. That was why Pritchard hadn’t been worried about the police presence camped out on the front lawn. It didn’t matter.

Her breath quickened. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Soon, she and Jesse would disappear, and Eric would never know how to find them.