Stephanie Tyler - Unbreakable

The guard went white. “She’s in the tower. Landon wanted us to keep her here. Said her husband would pay good money for her.”

“Did you hurt her?”

“No,” the guard said. “Can’t say the same about Landon.”

It was Jem’s turn to go white.

“Take Key and go find her. I’ll go after Avery and Dare,” Gunner told him. As soon as the men were unconscious, they went their separate ways, Gunner praying the entire time that Drea was all right.

Jem ran the tower steps two at a time. Key went slower behind him, backward, watching their six just in case the other guards were alerted.

If I’m too late . . .

No, he wouldn’t think like that. Never dealt in the negative.

He didn’t want to call out to her and alert any guard who might be with her. Instead, he moved quietly once he got to the last twenty steps. Key did the same.

He peeked into the tower and saw her, sitting so still on a chair in the middle of the circular room.

“Drea, it’s Jem,” he said quietly.

She didn’t move. He held his breath as he walked around her slowly, and when he met her eyes, he saw why she wasn’t moving.

The bomb’s trigger was attached to her chest. If she spoke, even breathed heavily, it would set off the bomb.

“It’s okay, baby—we’re here. Not a problem,” he told her. “You just keep holding it together. Everyone’s okay. And now you are too.”

She stared at him. She looked exhausted, relieved and scared to death all at the same time.

Avery and Dare took the building while Gunner, Key and Jem subdued the main guards. Dare entered the house first, took down three beefy guards who came at them. He’d used a silencer but they’d kept moving anyway, clearing the first floor.

Avery locked the kitchen staff into a closet after tying them up and taking their phones. They looked scared and might be innocent, but she didn’t trust anyone associated with the Landons.

The second floor was empty. She looked out the window and it was all quiet. Maybe too quiet.

“Clear,” Dare told her, and, weapon drawn, she went up the third flight of stairs. It was deadly quiet up here now that Dare had cut the alarm.

She listened for Dare’s footsteps behind her. He’d been on her six the whole time, but she was alone. She was on the landing of the third floor, was about to turn back to find him when an electrical current tore through her body. She would’ve toppled back down the stairs if Donal Landon hadn’t yanked her forward.

She landed on her side on the hard, cold marble floor, unable to do anything but convulse from the Taser. He was keeping it on her, keeping her helpless, unable to cry out for help or defend herself.

Not again.

When he moved the current from her body, he asked, “Back for more?”

She blinked, stared up at Donal Landon. He held a Taser in one hand and a knife in the other. “Trying again, you chickenshit?” she managed, and he slapped her hard across the face. Her cheek stung, her lip split against her teeth, but she didn’t stop.

She rolled before another slap could come, but he caught her with the Taser and her muscles contracted involuntarily for several long moments as he held her caught in its electrical current. Her only comfort was that he couldn’t do much to her while her body jolted. He could just kill her this way.

Finally, he pulled the current away and her body went slack. She could move, but she’d paid a price from too many of the Taser’s shocks in such a short period of time.

“You’re mine, bitch.”

“You’ve got that backward—you’re my bitch,” she told him before she kicked him hard in the side of the neck. He lost his balance, Taser and knife went flying and she was up and on him in seconds. She wouldn’t waste this opportunity, so she dove on him, scratching and punching, looking to maim, disable . . . and then she would kill him.

They rolled together, her hand on his Adam’s apple, his hand on her wrist, stopping her from crushing his trachea.

“You’ll never be able to forget me,” he croaked.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Donal. As soon as I kill you, you’ll be completely forgotten.”

He smiled quickly to cover his look of surprise at hearing his real name, then kicked. It caught her on the side of her head and she went down, still holding on to him. That put her in the worst position possible—underneath him.

He had the knife above her throat and she couldn’t move. Fear flooded her and she pushed it back. “What did Drew do to you that made you hate him so much?”

Donal considered that for a long moment, never moving the knife. “He was born with a conscience. I wasn’t. That always seemed to put us on different sides of the fence. Drew always felt too much. His emotions seemed strange to me, and at first, I tried to copy them, but then I gave up. When Father was alive it didn’t matter as much, but once Drew was put in charge, he made it his mission to go after the traffickers.”

“And you didn’t want to.”

“Avery, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Last chance to tell your story.”

“Always the optimist.” The knife’s blade was cold on her skin as he continued. “I wanted to get in with the traffickers. That’s where the real money was. But Drew couldn’t get past what happened to Mother and Julia.”

“And you could?”

“Easily. Father fucked up and we paid the price. End of story. And if Father had simply done what the trafficker had asked—move some of his merchandise to make up for the loss—none of it would’ve happened. Stupid pride, all over people we don’t know, people I certainly don’t give a shit about.”

“Innocent women and children.”

“Nobody’s innocent, Avery. I thought you of all people would understand that. You’re the young one in your family. The one no one told anything to. I was younger by four minutes, but somehow, in this family, that was a lifetime.”

He ripped her shirt open and the look on his face was pure gloat. “It looks perfect. I was hoping you’d have someone decent stitch them up. I tried to be precise in my cuts—I was premed, you know.”

“You’re all asshole. Don’t worry—Gunner will cover those up. His tattoos will be on top of them. He’ll win. He’s always going to win,” she told him.

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I know,” she told him, just as Gunner came up behind Donal and grabbed him around the neck, a knife held to his carotid.

“Up, slowly, Donal,” Gunner growled. She swallowed as Donal didn’t move the knife from her throat, not at first, and then he did, dropped it by her side.

As soon as he was halfway off her, she scrambled backward, grabbed the knife and lunged for the Taser too, just in case.

But Gunner had him in a grip. Told her, “You should go.”

“No way. I’m not leaving until he’s dead.”

She met Gunner’s eyes and saw the understanding there, the way she always did.

Gunner’s satisfaction in getting Donal before he could do any more damage to Avery was short-lived when several men came up the stairs, all of them holding automatic weapons.

They weren’t Landon’s men, which could be good, or really fucking bad. Gunner backed up with Landon, and Avery went to his side, slightly behind him. “Who the hell are you?” Gunner demanded.

“I’m Juan Carlos,” the man in the expensive-looking suit said. He didn’t have a weapon, but his men did, and they surrounded Gunner and Avery. “We’ve spoken before.”

They had. Juan Carlos was a businessman in Drew’s circles—he wasn’t a trafficker, but Gunner knew he often helped Drew’s clients with their financial needs once they’d successfully been relocated. Gunner had placed many calls to Juan Carlos over the years, although he remained a mysterious figure. “What are you doing here?”