Laura Kaye - Hard As It Gets

“You see how fucking scared she was?” Shane asked.

“Yeah. Job well done, though. My gut says ‘sick guy’ is our guy,” Nick said in a low voice.

Easy heaved a breath. “Now that I know the rendezvous, I’ll bring up the car. I’ll be outside this door in five.” He glared at them. “Don’t fucking get shot. There’s only room in the car for one slacker to lie down at a time.”

“Roger that,” Nick said as Easy disappeared out the door. “Come on.” Nick and Shane went slowly down the steps. Voices echoed from below.

Static sounded in his ear. “A1, A3 just crossed the parking lot on foot?”

Nick pressed his com button. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Roger,” Jeremy said. Damn if his bro wasn’t hitting this out of the ballpark. Pride over how Jer had stepped up formed a warm ball in his chest.

They reached the stairs at the bottom, and Rixey shoved every other thought away. One door on the left, two on the right toward the far end of the long hall. Crystal said the sick guy was in the room on the left. Nick hand signaled to Shane to prepare to enter. They donned masks.

The door flew open in front of them. “Who are—” The overgolded black man predictably went for his gun.

Rixey didn’t let him get that far. He punched him in the throat, which ensured the man grabbed there instead of his gun, didn’t scream, and was momentarily incapacitated. Guns drawn, they rushed him into the room and pushed the door shut. A quick visual sweep found no cameras.

Rixey swiped Doorman’s feet out from under him with a kick. He fell flat on his back, breath exploding out of him.

“Freeze,” Shane ordered two teenagers who’d been hunting and pecking away at their cell phones on a cushy couch. “Toss ’em down. Nice and slow. Now, hands up. Don’t be stupid.” They sprawled onto their stomachs.

When Doorman’s gaze cleared, it landed on Nick’s gun pointed right at his head, and he froze.

“A1, be advised that A3 is in wheels coming around to the back of the building.” The volume of the games playing on multiple TVs made Nick press the piece to his ear.

Ah, great goddamned news. “Roger. We got a ride.”

“Go,” Shane said, nodding at the door just past the boys.

Nick crossed the rec room and, gun drawn, pushed open the door. He cleared the room in a sweep. A blond-haired man lay on a bed with messed-up blankets. Jesus, he was pretty damn close to the spitting image of Frank Merritt. Just much younger.

They’d found Charlie.

“I got him,” he said over his shoulder, elation filling his chest for Becca. Damn, it was going to feel good to bring her brother home for her. “Eileen, do you copy? We have him.”

Crouching beside the bed, Nick scanned for injuries and found plenty. Cuts, bruises, badly chapped lips, sunken-in eyes, a ball of bandage around his right hand. Nothing obviously critical, which meant they could deal with it back at Hard Ink.

Charlie moaned, his eyelids fluttering.

“Becca sent me, Charlie. Can you hear me? You’re with friends.”

For a moment, Charlie’s eyes seemed to focus. And then it was gone again. Rixey was going to have to hump him out of there. He dragged him to the side of the bed, pulled his arms over his left shoulder, and hiked him up from a dead squat. Nick’s back screamed. Shit. Tall and lanky as Charlie was, he wasn’t light. Things were gonna get dicey if they hit any resistance on the way out.

Charlie over his shoulder, Nick came out of the bedroom to find that Shane had been busy. Doorman and the teenagers lay bound and gagged.

“Let’s go,” Nick said.

Shane palmed the doorknob and counted to three on his fingers. He pulled it open, cleared the hall with a nod, and started up the steps.

They were halfway up when a shadow fell across the opening at the top.

Sonofabitch.

The easy way was always mined. Of course, in this case, the easy way was the only way. No fucking chance Nick was getting this close to bringing Charlie home only to have it all go to shit fifteen feet from the exit.

A willowy figure carrying a tray appeared at the top and took one step down. Crystal. Her eyes went wide. “They’re coming. There was a call.” She retreated as they kept going up the stairs. “I have to scream now, and you have to hit me.”

“ What ?” Shane asked, echoing Rixey’s own thoughts.

“If you don’t, they’ll know I helped you. And I can’t . . .” Agitation overtook all her delicate features. “You have to. Please.” Apology in her eyes, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Please.”

“Pretend to fall and cradle your stomach.” Shane swung like he was punching her.

She dove, her head and back hitting the wall and the tray of food flying.

They bolted through the door.

Aw, thank fuck for Easy. He had his rental SUV sitting right there, back door open. Shane dove in first. Nick flipped Charlie off his shoulder, and Shane hauled him in. Rixey’s ass was still flapping in the breeze when Easy peeled out and men exploded through the door they’d just come through.

Gunshots erupted in a barrage that sprayed the back of the SUV.

Shane and Nick went flat, covering Charlie, who was completely out now. Probably for the best.

More gunfire again. The back window shattered in a hail of glass.

“Do whatever you have to do to avoid a tail, man,” Nick called.

“On it.”

Shane groaned. “Motherfuck.”

“What?” Nick asked as Easy tore out of the lot, cutting off traffic and sending oncoming cars into tailspins that luckily blocked the road.

“I’m hit.” Shane pulled a handful of blood away from his right shoulder. “Flesh wound, I’m pretty sure. Sonsabitches.”

“You need a hand?” Nick asked.

“No, goddamnit,” Shane said, cussing up a blue streak under his breath. Yeah, he was good.

Nick scanned out the back window. Course that would’ve been too easy. Two SUVs had gone offroading onto the sidewalk around the cars blocking the road. “We have company.”

“Yup,” Easy said.

“A-Team, vehicles are in pursuit. Do you have everyone?” came Jeremy’s voice.

An occasional round was still hitting home on their rear end.

Grabbing his gun, Rixey lowered the passenger window and leaned his upper body out enough to line up a shot. He pulled the trigger, and the first tail swerved and lost control, crashing into a parked car.

“Get us gone, E,” he hollered.

They ran a red light, which Rixey only realized after the fact when cars went screeching sideways in their wake. He approved. But the damn tail still wasn’t giving up. The road opened into two lanes lined with clubs and bars and restaurants, and traffic picked up. Couldn’t damn well shoot now. Nick sat heavily in his seat just as Easy cut across two lanes of traffic and made a right turn at the last possible minute.

Rixey careened into Charlie and Shane, whose injured shoulder slammed into the door, sending off more colorful curses.

The turn-and-slide didn’t stop there. Easy took the first left. Right again. And then another right, taking them back in the direction from which they’d come. No sign of the tail. Had they lost him? Nick kept a vigilant gaze out the back. Easy took the next left to cut across the city from east to west, continuing to zigzag to make sure they were tail-free. But he kept his speed down and drove carefully. Last thing they wanted was to get stopped by a cop for speeding or running a red light. Not when they were in the free and motherfucking clear.

Rixey blew out a breath and sagged against the seat. It might’ve been the first time he’d fully breathed in fifteen minutes. “Everybody okay?” He got two affirmatives, and hit his com button. “Eileen? This is A1. We have the package. I say again, we have the package.”