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“I don’t care what we have to do, I’m not leaving here without Hunter.”
Everyone nods in agreement then Addie stands up. “Ryder, go get the emerald. We leave in five minutes.”
“We leave now,” I say, but Addie shakes her head, reaching for her phone.
“Not without backup.”
“Who?” I ask.
“I’m calling my brother and his team.”
I know Ryland and the rest of Ex Nihilo are all former military badasses, impeccably trained to handle situations just like this. Plus, Hunter is their pilot and close friend. They’d want to know she’s in trouble.
“But they’re in the States,” I argue. “We don’t have time to wait for them.”
“No, they’re not,” she tells me, pulling out her phone. “At least, not all of them.”
I don’t have time to ask for details, and I trust Addie implicitly. With a sharp nod, I storm down to my room and grabmy gun and holster. After pulling on a light jacket to conceal it, I glance down at my watch.Time to go.Every minute spent fucking around here is a minute wasted.
I won’t let Hunter down. I’m more than just a guy who’s smooth with words and has a pretty face. I’ve also got a brain and I know how to fight—especially for what’s mine. And whether she knows it yet or not, Hunter “Pyro” McGrath is all mine.
Back in the living room, my team is geared up with their weapons of choice—everything from guns to knives to laptops. We head out the door and climb into the SUV. Brighton gets behind the wheel and I slide into the passenger seat beside her while Addie, Deck and Ryder sit in the back seat.
Brighton hits the gas, turning us toward Torres’ estate, and Addie leans forward to fill us in on her call. “Ryland and his teammate Saint are with their wives in Cádiz. Mia, Saint’s wife, had to sign for some property she inherited from her father.”
“Is she the one who had the bad billionaire daddy?” Brighton asks.
“Yeah, her father was an asshole, but was also seriously loaded. Anyway, Ryland said they’re on their way, but it might take a couple of hours.”
“Do we really think Torres will let us walk away after handing over the emerald?” Deck asks dryly. “Because I’ll tell you right now, the answer is no.”
“We don’t have a choice,” I snap. If that’s what it takes to save Hunter’s life, then that’s what we’re damn well doing. I won’t risk her safety by playing games. Too many things could go wrong. I know reinforcements are coming and they’ll be armed to the teeth, but what if they’re too late? What if Torres renegeson his deal? He could try to kill us and Hunter. I’m sure he’s pissed as hell we snuck in and managed to steal his shit not once, but twice.
I’ve executed a lot of heists, but this feels completely different. My trademark confidence and aplomb are nowhere to be found. Instead, my gut is curling with dread and I’m terrified of failing Hunter. Yes, she’s tough, and I keep trying to convince myself she’s going to be fine. Keep telling myself she can take care of herself. Keep reminding myself she’s a former Navy fighter pilot who graduated at the top of her Top Gun class.
But I also know the skills needed to defeat a snake like Torres aren’t taught in a class. Men like him play dirty, and I have no doubt he’ll stoop to any level to get his greedy hands on that emerald again. I lift my hand, see it’s shaking, and squeeze it into a tight fist.
Fuck.I care about Hunter more than I even realized. Her sharp intellect, commanding aura and effortless beauty are everything I could ever want in a partner. One thought hits me hard and my heart squeezes.
I’m not falling in love with her. I’m already fucking there. Crazy, head-over-heels, want-to-grow-old-and-wrinkly-with-her in love.
Brighton must notice my trembling hand because she reaches over, laying her hand on top of mine and squeezing. “Hang in there, okay? Now isn’t the time to fall apart.”
“I know. And I won’t.”
Because if I do, Hunter is as good as dead.
Chapter Sixteen: Hunter
Time seems to crawl, yet, at the same time, it’s flying by. I can’t explain it, and it’s putting me even more on edge. The good news is Torres hasn’t cut off any of my body parts yet. Definitely counting that as a win.
He keeps asking me questions, and his threats flow faster than water over Niagara Falls, but I keep my answers as vague as possible. My loyalties run deep and, without even realizing it, Knox and his crew earned my respect. I genuinely like them all and refuse to give this asshole any intel that might harm them. Even if it means it might cost me a finger.
God help me.
At one point during the interrogation, they take my phone, snap a picture of me and text it to Knox. My stomach clenches because I don’t want Knox to see me like this—tied up, helpless, bleeding.
“Your team is bringing my emerald back,” he states. “In exchange for you.”