To say that being babysat as a grown-ass woman was annoying and degrading was an understatement. The laptop was hot on Gigi’s legs and she’d been keeping herself busy talking to Ivy.
Her sister was with their parents right now. Rami hadn’t wanted to leave her home alone while he went to San Juan Island, nor had he wanted her to stay at the safe house. Which was too bad because Ivy’s company would’ve made the whole uncomfortable wait so much more tolerable.
Alas, she didn’t want to endanger her sister, either. Even though August had assured her she was perfectly safe, the twins’ being in the same place might be too much temptation for the cartel. So they’d settled for an hour-long phone call, during which Ivy had practically tried to plan Gigi and August’s wedding.
Ridiculous.
Nonetheless, Gigi’s cheeks still tingled from laughing so much and probably freaking glowed from the conversation. August wasn’t ready to propose. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. But she was happy with how comfortable and easy their relationship was, ring or no ring.
Time would tell.
She stretched then stood and paced to the window. The sun shone brilliantly. Buildings blocked out some of the harbor and mountain views, but the sight was still breathtaking. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin. To be outside strolling with August, holding his hand as the leaves changed colors.
That wouldn’t happen today. But that didn’t mean it would never happen.
For now, she’d focus on cooking. Her grocery order would be here any minute, and then she’d start peeling and slicing potatoes. She was going to make cheesy scalloped potatoes. One of her family’s favorites, the recipe had been passed down from her grandma, and it’d been almost a year since Gigi made it. She’d serve pan-fried chicken and asparagus with it.
They still had brownies left over for dessert, but she really wanted to feed August’s soul after what would surely be a stressful day, so she’d ordered a ton of apples for apple crisp.
Her stomach growled. Turning, she went out to the kitchen. She hadn’t even said hello to Taschen, which was kind of rude, but she’d been busy on the phone and he likely had better things to do than chat with her.
“Hey.” Taschen lifted his head from his computer as she rounded the island. “Hope I’m not bothering you.”
She waved him off. “Not at all. Thanks for being here.”
He scoffed. “You and I both know neither one of us wants to be here right now.”
She smiled, and her annoyance at being left behind softened. “That’s true. August was pretty adamant I stay here.”
Taschen propped his chin on his fist. “Probably smart. They’ll be quick.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Aren’t you expecting groceries?”
“Yup. Should be here any minute.” She told him what she was making and his eyebrows rose, making the scar on the side of his face stretch an inch.
“Damn, that sounds good. You’re making me hate single life.”
She chuckled. “Well, I’ve got leftover tikka masala and brownies. Are you hungry?”
“Hell yeah I am.”
She grinned and went to the fridge. A few minutes later she had a plate heated for him.
“You’re not having any?” he asked, as he swept a pile of chicken and rice onto his fork.
“Nah. I’m too nervous. Best medicine for that is cooking, so once the ingredients get here, I’ll be a little more at ease.”
Taschen ripped off a piece of naan bread. “This is amazing.”
“You can take some home—”
Ding-dong
Taschen leapt to his feet, drawing his gun from the small of his back.
“That must be the groceries.” Gigi knotted her hands in front of her while Taschen made his way to the front door.
“Must be. I’ll get it.” He stared out the peephole, his gun slightly lowered, then tucked the weapon into the waistband at his back and unsnapped the lock. “Thanks,” he said, to whomever was in the hall.
Gigi moved forward to help with the bags. Then a flurry of movement had her staggering back.
Thwack, thwack!
Taschen dodged. Bullets flew through the door. Drywall exploded in the kitchen. Gigi yelped and fear ping-ponged against her nerve endings. Someone shoved open the door, and Taschen tackled a man with a bandana. Gigi screamed and clamped her hands over her ears as she dropped to the floor.
“Gigi, get back!” Taschen yelled.
He delivered a savage blow to the man’s face with the butt of his gun. Blood spattered the walls. Taschen shouted more orders but Gigi couldn’t process them amid the wail of warning bells in her head.
Another man rushed forward, trampling the groceries that had spilled on the floor. He wore a black beanie and dark clothing. She screamed as he hauled her up by her arm.
Taschen turned the gun on the man holding her. “Let her go or I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Blood coated his T-shirt and rage tightened his face as he stood.
The man holding Gigi lifted his arm, a long barrel attached to muzzle of the weapon—a silencer pointed right at Taschen. Fear swelled in her throat. “Look out!”
Taschen ducked for cover, but the shooter got off two rounds. Taschen’s body blew backward and slammed into the wall.
The man gripping Gigi’s arm dragged her toward the door. “No!” she screamed.
Blood blossomed from a bullet hole in Taschen’s chest. More dark blood oozed down the side of his head.
Oh god, he’s shot in the head.
Guttural cries rasped from her throat. He was going to die—all because of her. “Stop!” Gigi screamed, needing to alert someone. Needing to help him.
Wham!
A fist connected with her cheekbone, snapping her head to the side. Her footing faltered, and if it weren’t for the tight, talonlike grip on her arm, she’d have sunk to the ground.
The man’s menacing face came inches from hers. “Don’t make a fucking sound. If you scream or get anyone’s attention, I’ll fucking kill them. Then you later. Got it?” His thick Spanish accent dripped with promise.
Gigi turned her attention to Taschen’s lifeless form. His body was limp and the color was quickly draining from his face. She sniffed back a sob and nodded.
No one else would die because of her.
The man Taschen had fought stumbled to his feet, mopping his blood-stained chin.
“Good.” He dragged her into the hallway. The bright fluorescents lights were harsh and unrelenting on her retinas.
The shooter closed the door, sealing off any hope of someone finding Taschen if it wasn’t already too late.
One thing was certain—it was too late for her.
* * *
August jumped on the boat as Rami powered up the motor. Ghost and Toth took their seats near the back and stretched out.
“How’d you get this?” August asked, as Rami steered away from the dock.
“Rental.”
“How long’s the ride?” Ghost called over the drone of the motor.
“Hour or so,” August answered. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. If the wind didn’t hold the familiar biting promise of fall, he’d think it was high summer.
“Fuck,” Ghost said. “So we’ll lose reception.”
“Only till we reach the island,” Toth answered.
August pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. He should’ve called Gigi before getting on the boat. They might have a few minutes before they lost service, but it was too loud to call now. And when they got to the island, he’d have to be on alert.
As soon as he got back to Anacortes, he’d check in. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he fought the tension ripping up and down his spine.
He didn’t like this. None of it. Being away from Gigi, not being able to reach her, and potentially walking into a trap. August had the deadliest team of men he could ask for and more guns and ammunition than necessary, yet he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling something would go wrong.
It can’t. I won’t let it.
Dropping his head back to absorb the sun’s warm rays, he forced his ass to sit still when all he wanted to do was pace. Which would probably get him tossed overboard. At least he couldn’t hear Ghost’s bitching over the sound of the motor.
An hour later, August checked his phone for the third time. Still no bars.
Toth nudged him. “Not much longer. Get your things together.”
Everyone leapt into action, loading their holsters and stowing their bags as the island came into view. They wore their bulletproof vests beneath their shirts so as not to draw attention, but except for the odd boat they’d passed on the water, the area around San Juan was quiet.
Rami steered toward one of the docks and cut the motor. They sailed smoothly toward the wood. Toth and Ghost tied up the boat, and in seconds all of them had disembarked.
“Is this their place?” Ghost asked, as the team’s footsteps stomped heavily on the worn wooden planks.
“Yup,” August said.
Rami whistled, Toth grunted, and Ghost muttered something about filthy rich politicians. The large brick-and-wood-clad home stretched out across the rolling, lush green grass. Thick white trim boxed in the array of windows, making the house look both opulent and inviting. A mixture of Douglas fir and spruce trees dotted the property.
Standing outside next to the back door, which faced the water, was a security guard dressed in a black suit and a crisp white shirt. As August and the guys approached, the guard withdrew a gun from his holster and lifted his fingers to his ear, presumably as he spoke into a mouthpiece.
Yeah, this was the right place.
August’s fingers flexed around the gun in his hand as he swept his gaze across the property for signs of other threats.
“More guards.” Ghost nodded toward the west side of the house, where two other men rounded the corner, guns drawn, dressed equally as dorky.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Toth said. “We’re basically threatening the senator, for god’s sake.”
“Not threatening,” August said. “Blackmailing.”
Ghost snorted, the first almost-laugh August had heard from him. “This oughta be interesting.”
“We’re here for one thing,” Rami said. “Todd.”
August moved a little quicker toward the house, Rami at his side and Toth and Ghost a pace behind.
“Stop right there!” The guard near the back door left his post to approach them. The other two guards joined him. August drew to a halt and the guys spread out beside him. The seven of them faced off on the walking path of neatly laid cobblestones.
“We’re here for Todd,” August announced. “Senator Radcliffe is expecting us.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Thank fuck he had reception now, but he didn’t dare pull out his phone and risk a distraction. Nonetheless, his heart raced with every buzz against his thigh, each sensation sending a blaring warning bell through his skull.
He fought to regulate his breath as the goon with long blond hair tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck spoke low into the phone at his ear. He pocketed the device and nodded. “Senator will be right out.”
August folded his arms across his chest. Then the quiet ringing of Toth’s phone snapped August’s attention to his friend. Toth also didn’t reach for his device, but the damn-near simultaneous phone calls made August’s blood pressure heighten.
“I just missed a call,” August said.
Toth’s skin paled, and he jammed his hand in his pocket.
“Hey! Hands where we can see them!” one of the idiots yelled, and lifted his weapon.
Toth held up his phone. “Easy.” He glanced at the screen, his face tight. “It’s Dana. Hello?” he said, bringing the device to his ear. “Wait—shit.” Toth’s eyes flew to August.
The air was vacuumed from August’s lungs and the trees and grass fell away from him. Only the rushing sound of blood in his ears was audible.
Toth held the device away from his mouth. “Taschen’s in the hospital. He was shot in the head. They have Gigi.”
“What?” Rage flooded through August’s veins as he snatched the phone from Toth. “Dana? What happened?”
Dana sniffled and choked on the other end. “I’m at the hospital with Taschen. I only talked to him for a moment before he lost consciousness again—he said the cartel has Gigi.” She droned on about how she’d found Taschen, but August couldn’t process a single syllable.
The ground caved beneath his feet and the world tilted on its axis. Rami’s rough hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring him in place.
Gigi’s gone.
Bile spiked up his esophagus, and the acrid taste of regret was so foul he almost retched. He never should have fucking left her. Never should have taken the chance. He had only a flicker of concern for Taschen. Yes, he hoped the guy lived. Hoped to hell he didn’t die having tried to do August’s job and protect Gigi, but Jesus. All his concern was laser focused on her.
Pain shot from the center of his breastbone to his left shoulder.
“Dude,” Rami barked, giving him a deadly shake. “She’s gonna be okay. Breathe, for fuck’s sake. You look like you’re going to pass out.” Despite his pep talk, strain and worry creased Rami’s eyes.
Toth was speaking to the guards, trying to explain the situation, but nothing reached August’s brain. All that mattered was Gigi. The only person he lived for had been taken from him. He knew what these people did, how they’d hurt her. The torture she’d endure just so they could send a message.
Wham!
Rami’s palm connected with the side of August’s face, forcing him to snap his attention to his friend’s bright-blue eyes and the tattoo that ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.
“Listen, man.” Rami’s admonishing tone made August suck in a breath. “We’ll find her.”
Ghost stared at him with a look of pity as he took a step closer. “Whoever touched her will fucking die,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll see this through.”
His words spoke to August on a fundamental level. The only thing he cared about right now was killing the bastards who’d dared to take her.
The sound of the back door creaking open reached his ears, and August shifted his attention to Senator Roy Radcliffe. The older man crossed his arms over his chest, making his round middle strain against his checkered blue dress shirt. “What’s all the noise about?” His salt-and-pepper hair receded from his tanned face, and his eyes were small and cold as he stared at August with disdain.
In one swift move, August broke away from his friends and advanced on the senator. “You sonofabitch. You knew she was vulnerable. You knew they wanted her.”
Roy reared back and shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Get back!” one of the guards ordered.
August breezed past him, cocked his fist, and decked the senator in the face.
All hell broke loose.