Stephanie heard a thump from beyond the double doors, but didn’t react, remaining in her chair, facing toward the window where she’d spotted Samuel Carpenter moments earlier. Renewed hope filled her, because if he was there, chances were good the rest of Carpenter Security surrounded the villa, mounting a rescue attempt.
Before she could utter a sound, Gareth grabbed her arm and wrenched her from the chair, pointing a gun at her head.
“Gareth, what—”
Her words broke off as the doors crashed inward, and Etienne stood silhouetted in the opening, a pistol in his hand.
“Mr. Boudreau, if you don’t want her to have a bullet in the brain, you will drop your weapon.”
Etienne didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch, his gaze zeroed in on Gareth. Stephanie recognized the warrior she knew him to be shining in his eyes. He’d shoot Gareth in a heartbeat, without a single regret, if the rat fink wasn’t using her for a human shield. Though Etienne was an excellent shot, she knew he wouldn’t take the chance—not with her compromising his aim.
“Prescott, lay down your weapon, and you’ll walk away with your life. The villa is surrounded, and your men are down. There’s no escape.”
She could feel Gareth’s body move behind hers, since he was pressed smack against her, and his hand slid upward, wrapping around her throat, tilting her chin up at an impossibly high angle.
“Maybe not, Mr. Boudreau, but are you willing to risk my darling girl’s life? I’d suggest you lower your weapon, because I’m growing impatient, and won’t hesitate to shoot. Besides, I never intended to let the lying bitch live. Only long enough to exact my pound of flesh, you might say.”
The barrel of the gun pressed harder against her temple, and she couldn’t fight the involuntary wince of pain. Gareth’s fingers squeezed even tighter around her throat, and she made a choking sound.
“Don’t hurt her!” Etienne lowered the barrel of his gun toward the floor. “Let’s make a deal. Let Stephanie go, and I’ll let you walk away.”
Gareth laughed, and its ugliness sent a shiver down her spine. She’d heard that laugh before, and it never boded well for the person it was directed toward.
“Etienne,” she rasped out, “just go. I can’t let Gareth hurt you. I love you too much to let you risk your life.”
“Love you too, sweetheart. But unless Prescott’s willing to let you go, he’s got nothing else to offer.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Mr. Boudreau. I always have an ace up my sleeve.” His fingers tightened around her throat, and she knew she’d carry bruises—if she lived. “My darling, take your left hand and very slowly—and I do mean very slowly—reach into my jacket pocket, and pull out what you find there.” When she hesitated, he barked in her ear, “Now!”
Her hand shook as she reached behind her, sliding it into the silk-lined pocket. A small box-shaped device filled the palm of her hand, and her breath caught in her throat, because she had a very good idea what she held. She couldn’t let him get his hands on it, or they would all die.
She must have hesitated too long, because the arm holding the gun suddenly wrapped around her throat, and his other hand closed around hers, still in his pocket.
“Don’t be stupid. Let go, or I’ll pull the trigger now and blow away your boyfriend.”
She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk everybody’s lives by fighting him over the detonator. Instead, she loosened her hold and he pulled it free, brandishing it in front of her face.
“The first thing I did when I planned to come to Costa Rica, I had the villa and grounds wired with explosives. There’s enough C4 out there to blow half of Costa Rica into the ocean. So, don’t take me for a fool, Mr. Boudreau. Now, lower your weapon to the ground and kick it away—carefully.”
Etienne complied, his expression guarded. He raised his hands to shoulder level, making himself an open target. When Gareth’s stranglehold around her neck loosened, she pulled in a ragged breath.
“Prescott, let me pull back my men, and have them get yours clear, then we can talk.”
“It’s too late for talking. Albert Donnelly has been pussyfooting around, and I know he’s stalling. So, here’s what you’re going to do. Contact your boss and get me a private jet, fueled and ready to go, along with a pilot, on the ground in an hour.”
“That’s not enough time.” Stephanie turned slightly, looking up at Gareth, who towered above her. “Nobody’s going to have a plane close enough to get here fully fueled that quickly.”
Gareth leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “I’d suggest your boyfriend get busy, then, because he’s only got fifty-eight minutes left.”
“Etienne, I’m sorry. Forgive me, but I’ve got no choice.”
“Sweetheart, what are you—”
Without pausing, Stephanie reared back her elbow and slammed it into Gareth’s stomach, then immediately stomped on his foot. With as much force as she could, she slammed the back of her head into his nose, before balling up her fist and punching downward, connecting with his groin. And almost smiled at his high-pitched squeal of pain.
She’d barely finished the last hit before Etienne was across the room, delivering punch after punch to Gareth’s face and stomach. The gun dropped from his hand, as he bent over double, vomiting on the floor.
Bending, she snatched it up, and pointed it toward Gareth. “Don’t move, you son of a bitch, or I’ll blow your damned head off.”
Etienne stepped toward her and eased the gun from her hand. Ranger, Gunner, and Bogey raced in, and none-too-gently manhandled Gareth from the room, over his very loud vocal protests, but not before relieving him of the remote detonator.
“Those are quite some moves you’ve got there, sweetheart.”
Stephanie chuckled. “Do you have any idea how many times Andrea made us watch Miss Congeniality? Guess I learned a thing or two from that movie after all.”
Taking her face between his hands, he studied her, his expression worried. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, really. I might have a few bruises around my throat, but that’s it. He never touched me until you stormed the room.”
Pulling her into his arms, she went willingly, feeling the fine tremors racing through his body. Not that hers wasn’t shaking just as hard. But they’d survived, and it was over.
“What about Tabby and Sophia and Miguel?”
“Everybody is fine. Marie is on ice, and she’ll be turned over to the authorities.”
“Can we go home?”
“Not right away, I’m afraid,” Samuel answered her question, striding through the double doors and into the study. “We’re going to have quite a mess to clean up with the Costa Rican authorities, not to mention the U.S. government, but since Prescott is an escaped felon, I don’t think we’ll have too much difficulty getting things straightened out.”
Stephanie stepped away from Etienne’s embrace and wrapped her arms around Samuel. “Thank you.”
He placed a soft kiss against her forehead. “You’re family. It’s what we do. Besides, Andrea threatened me with all manner of nasty stuff if I didn’t get you home in time for the wedding.” He shuddered and whispered, “Don’t tell her, but she scares me.”
She and Etienne laughed, because everybody knew Samuel Carpenter adored his fiancée, and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. The man would give her anything she desired, even if it meant mounting a full-scale assault on an armed villa filled with mercenaries, just to bring home her bridesmaid.
“Gareth had a detonator, said the whole villa was wired with C4.”
“It’s been diffused. I’d love to know how he got his hands on such a large stash of C4, but we’ll probably never know. All’s well that ends well, Stephanie.” He turned to Etienne. “I’ll deal with any fallout. You take care of our girl.”
“No problem. I’m never letting her out of my sight again. She gets into trouble when she’s on her own.”
“Hey!” Stephanie punched his shoulder, and he gave a mock wince. Right, like she could really hurt him. He was built like solid rock. She laced an arm around Etienne’s waist. “Did I mention I love you?”
“I seem to recall hearing something to that effect. I believe I reciprocated.”
“Ugh, mushy stuff. I told you it was a mistake to allow so many women around the office. Estrogen overload, it’s destroying all the manly testosterone we worked so hard to build up.” Samuel’s glanced flicked between Etienne and Stephanie, and she held her breath. Though she loved him like a brother, his stupid rule wasn’t going to keep her out of Etienne’s arms—or his bed.
“Samuel—”
“Deep down, my gut told me you two would end up together. Which really pisses me off, because now I owe my fiancée a diamond tennis bracelet. Word of advice, never bet against Andrea. She always wins.”
With a quick grin, Samuel walked away, and Etienne pulled Stephanie into his arms, and tilted her head up for a deep kiss. She kissed him back with all the love she had, knowing that her nightmare was finally over, and she was free to love him.
“Let’s go home.”