Laura Kaye - Hard As You Can

F ORTY MINUTES LATER, B-Team stood on the floor of Confessions, waiting to be escorted to their party room for Marz’s fake bachelor party. It was like the night they’d rescued Charlie—crowded, loud, just bordering on rowdy. Despite the crowd, Shane felt exposed as hell standing in the bar, and he was glad when Darnell finally found and invited them to follow him beyond the curtain.

Shane, Marz, Easy, and nine of the Ravens made their way back down the hall, laughing, joking, drinking beer. Shane had emphasized they act like regular guys enjoying a night out at a strip club. So far, they were passing with flying colors.

In their private room, the party got under way with food, music, and dancing girls on the small central stage. As the groom, Marz was trapped front and center, and kept up enough antics—like dancing with the girls, loudly joking with the guys, and offering hilarious editorial commentary regarding the porn playing on the big screen—to make sure all attention remained on him.

Shane and Easy leaned against the bar near the door. From which it was a very short trip down the hall, around a small corner, and down the steps into the basement.

A few minutes after they arrived, Jeremy’s voice came through Shane’s earpiece. “B-Team Leader, this is Eileen,” he said, using the joking code name they’d come up with for Charlie’s rescue—they avoided real names on the coms as much as possible. “You know who was a half hour late getting to the other location. Just arrived. The other people were already there, and A-Team Leader took pictures of them all.”

“Roger,” Shane said, glad for the confirmation Bruno was out of the building. Then he looked to Easy. “I’ll run to the bathroom, and we’ll be set,” he said, referring to the key Howie was supposed to have left. Shane slipped inside, secured the door, and crouched to look beneath the sink. Nothing.

He checked every other possible hiding place in the room. Still, nothing.

Caution settled on Shane’s shoulders like a warm blanket. He returned to Easy’s side. “Dead end,” he said in a low voice.

“Shit,” Easy said. “Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Let’s do it.”

Nodding, Shane spoke into the coms. “Take down the cameras.”

“Doing it now,” Jeremy said. “Stand by.” Marz’s identification of the wireless frequencies that many of the Confessions security cameras operated on gave him the power to interfere with the signal and essentially shut them down. Marz had shown Charlie what to do before they’d left. “Good to go,” Jeremy said.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Easy said, off coms. “I’d like to get Jenna back sooner than later.”

Shane studied the intense expression on the man’s face but didn’t have time to analyze whether more was going on for Easy than met the eye. Anyway, right now, it wasn’t the most important thing.

“Let’s move,” Shane said.

Out the door. Down a thankfully clear hallway. Shane cleared the corner, waving Easy around. A whole lotta déjà vu washed over Shane as he looked into the dimness of the basement stairwell, but all seemed quiet, so he started his way down, gun at the ready.

Sara had said Jenna would be in the last room on the right. Now that they didn’t have the key, they were going to have to be more creative about—The door stood open. Shane pointed, and Easy gave a tight nod. They hustled along the hallway and stopped just shy of the door. Shane indicated for Easy to push it open, and Shane would cover.

Silently counting to three, Easy pushed the door open, Shane swung his gun over the space. Only, the room inside was pitch-black, just like Sara had described. Shane felt along the inside wall for a switch, and finally Easy signaled him that it was outside the door. Easy flicked the switch and eased the door shut behind him so light didn’t bleed into the hall.

It took Shane’s eyes a minute to adjust, and not just because the room had gone from darkness to light.

The bed was empty. Jenna wasn’t there.

But someone else was.

“Fuck,” Shane said, stepping to the center of the room and crouching next to the body of an older black man whose shirt was drenched in blood from at least two stab wounds to the chest. There was no pulse, but the body was still warm, pliable. This had just happened.

Shane’s gaze flashed to Easy’s, and the man wore an absolutely lethal expression. “I want to take this place down, ” Easy said, almost growling. For a long moment, their gazes met and held. Shane looked at the older man he assumed was Sara’s friend, soaked in his own blood on the floor. He’d probably died helping them. Shane thought of those nine women disappearing into the boats. He thought of Charlie and Jenna and the countless others he knew nothing about.

How many more have to die here?

“B-Team Leader, we have a situation with A-Team,” Jeremy said, his voice not as calm as before.

“We’ve got one here, too. The package is missing,” Shane said, wondering how much worse this night could go.

“No, it’s not. The package is with . . . you-know-who at A-Team’s location.”

“Jesus,” Shane said under his breath. Not again. Not again. He couldn’t lose her again. “She is their top priority. Their only priority, Eileen. Make that clear.”

White-hot rage clawing down his spine, Shane looked at Easy. “Take it down,” Shane said. Gun drawn, Shane walked out into the central hallway and checked the other basement rooms. All empty. “How much time do you need?”

Easy’s smile was nearly sinister as he pulled a pouch from inside his coat. “I came prepared, dawg. Five minutes to place the materials, then we can remote this motherfucker.” He pulled small blocks of the off-white plastic explosive C-4 out and secured them to load-bearing beams, then inserted the blast caps.

“Roger that,” Shane said, keeping lookout while Easy did his thing. When they were done downstairs, they returned to the party room and quietly spread the word to the Ravens, who lacked earpieces. Prepare to haul ass out the front door so they’d mix in with the crowd.

Jeremy’s voice spilled into Shane’s earpiece. “Shots fired at Location 1, but A-Team Leader secured the delivery items. Says the package got away, but they are in pursuit.”

Shane wanted to destroy something with his bare hands. Whatever had been exchanged via the delivery meant absolutely nothing to him at this moment. Jenna was all that mattered.

“We do this now,” Shane growled to Easy, then he stalked over to the wall by the door and pulled the fire alarm. The siren screeched at an ear-shattering decibel level. “Everyone out,” Shane said, shooing the dancers out and accounting for all his men before he left the room.

The chaos of the main club was audible over the alarms—running feet, yelling, screams.

“Everyone out,” Shane yelled in the main club. “Fire!” He was glad to see no one lingering behind. Customers, dancers, waitresses—everyone bailed. Their group brought up the rear, then they were out in the night air, making a beeline for their cars and bikes as the club’s bouncers urged people to the other side of the street.

Having planned to transport Jenna once they rescued her, Shane, Easy, and Marz had parked near the back door. Weaving through scattered groups of people, they wound their way to the road and waited for the bikes to congregate behind them.

When the twelfth Harley joined them, Shane hit the accelerator; and then he looked to Easy.

Watching over his shoulder to make sure the bikers were clear, Easy waited . . . waited . . . then finally pressed a button on a cell phone Shane hadn’t seen before. And the world in his rearview mirror exploded with a deafening series of crashes and bright orange fireballs that shook the ground beneath his truck.