Page 16

B arreling down a gravel road, dust flies up behind us. The meeting spot is a few minutes out, and I should be focused on what’s to come…except I can’t stop staring at Remy. She’s in the front passenger seat, staring straight ahead while her favorite knife flips and twirls in her hand.

She’s never looked more beautiful, or more deadly.

Whatever happened with Saint and Rogue—and I’m not even talking about the image burned in my brain of them spreading her ass wide open—seemed to be exactly what she needed in order to rearrange the pieces of her soul. Now the two very different versions of Remington Masterson are residing together comfortably. The transition from warm-blooded woman to stone-cold killer was swifter and more fierce than I’ve ever seen.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t make my deep-rooted need to see my woman and child safe any easier to ignore when she’s about to rush headfirst into danger to save her twin. Don’t get me wrong, I back her determination and loyalty one hundred fucking percent. The Steele sisters are two halves of a whole. One can’t exist without the other. They share not only blood, but their beauty, brains, and penchant for violence, and while I may not hold the same affection for Etta that I do for Remy, knowing she’s in trouble sets off a wave of brotherly protectiveness that is hard to put into words. I just wish I could convince Remy to sit this one out and let us handle it because my worry is burning a hole in my gut, but I know better. No fucking way is she going to put her sister’s life in anyone’s hands but her own.

“You’re giving me heartburn, Grant. Knock it off.”

Saint snorts beside me.

“What the hell did I do?”

Her dark brown eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “If you think, for even a millisecond, I’d let you guys do this alone, you’re outta your goddamn mind.”

“Just because I was thinking it doesn’t mean I believed it was a viable option.”

“How in the hell did you even know that’s what he was thinking?” Trip quips from the driver seat of the large white rental van whose back has been outfitted with padding on the floor to help transport four injured people.

Remy taps her temple with the butt of the knife. “Serial killer senses.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Trip scoffs.

Saint sits forward in his seat. “Then what am I thinking right now, angel?”

“You’re wondering how soon you can have my ass again.”

He whistles. “She’s good.”

“Now focus.” She’s already facing forward again, her voice noticeably more distant, the knife whirling through the air with expert efficiency. “We’re just around the block from where Jay said he’d meet us. Ace and Rogue should already be there.”

The van rounds the corner, pulling up to a stop under a broken street lamp. It’s dark, the moon hidden behind cloud cover, providing the perfect opportunity to sneak in and out of this abandoned part of the city undetected. I can barely make out Ace’s and Rogue’s bikes up ahead or the small group of men in front of them.

Remy is out of the van before Trip can even turn off the ignition.

The three of us share a look. I’m not the only one with reservations. Bastards should be grateful Remy hasn’t honed that lovely trait with all of them yet, or I wouldn’t be the only one on the receiving end of a tongue lashing.

By the time we meet up with the rest of the group, we catch the tail end of Remy’s question.

“...and you’re sure this intel is accurate?”

“Oh yeah. The good doc sang like a canary once we snatched him off the streets and gave him two options: give us the information…or die. His only stake in the game is the money Colt was paying him to keep your sister and her guys unconscious. Apparently, he’s got some gambling debts he needed to take care of.”

“How long until their next dose of medication is due?” Ace asks.

“It was due about six hours ago.”

Ace crosses his arms over his chest. “What are the chances they’re already awake?”

The sound of gunfire erupts from somewhere in the distance.

“Chances are good,” Remy deadpans, then takes off running.

“Rem! Wait!”

Of course she doesn’t stop. My only consolation is the pounding of boots behind me as we all take off after her. The abandoned hotel up ahead is dark and desolate, but the sporadic sound of shots being fired grows louder with each stride we take.

“Beretta is being held at the end of the west wing, third floor. That’s through the front doors and to the left. The guys are in the east wing, second floor. Elevators aren’t working, so we’ll have to take the stairs,” Jay calls out from somewhere next to me. “Six guards are assigned to the guys. Twelve to Etta. They rotate shifts, but they’re all stationed in the rooms surrounding the prisoners. My team took out the security cameras about thirty minutes ago, so Colt won’t see what’s happening here. They’ll also form a perimeter around the building, so we’re not caught unaware.”

“We didn’t grab the vests!” Trip yells.

“No time.” Rogue suddenly appears beside me, pulling a gun from the back waistband of his jeans.

“No shit, Captain Obvious,” I mutter, doing the same.

“Remington, don’t you dare—” Ace barks, but Remy is already through the front door.

She may be pregnant, but I gotta hand it to her. It’s not slowing her down in the least.

“Fuck!” he growls.

“Do we have a plan?” Jay asks.

“Trip, you, Saint, and Rogue head for the east wing,” Ace orders. “Get the guys and meet back at the van. The rest of us will go after Etta.”

“You got it, brother. Watch your six. All of you.”

We split off in the lobby, which is oddly quiet now, with the three of them heading off to the right and disappearing down the hall.

Remy has paused next to what was once a large fountain, but is now dried up and full of dirt and debris. The front desk is broken and covered in graffiti. The once shiny marble beneath our feet is littered with dirt and leaves. This place hasn’t been used in at least a decade. The neighboring businesses and homes were abandoned when a new gang, notorious for drugs and prostitution, set up shop and sent all of the residents flocking closer to the city center.

The Havoc Reapers are the furthest thing from saviors, but given a choice, Deadwood Peak citizens preferred to dance with the devil they knew rather than one that had even fewer morals and regularly recruited kids into their dealings. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for Rock to show the gang just who the top dog was in this part of the Southwest. The neighborhood never recovered, and Rock let nature take over as a reminder to anyone else who dared tread on his territory.

Remy’s standing with her head cocked and eyes closed in the middle of her father’s history lesson. The clouds outside shift, and for the briefest moment, she’s bathed in a pale beam of moonlight. She looks like an ethereal goddess, dark but beautiful, delicate but incredibly powerful. When her head raises and her eyes open, the steely determination of the Avenging Angel scans the men surrounding her.

“You guys ready?” Her voice is low, steady, with an edge of danger that doesn’t bode well for whomever will be on the receiving end of her knife.

Ace steps forward, sliding his hand behind her neck and pulling her mouth to his in a searing kiss. When he pulls back, he studies her carefully, noting that the touch did little to ease the tension vibrating out of her every pore.

“I will burn this entire place, and all of these bastards in it, to the ground if there’s so much a scratch on your perfect fucking skin.” Remy opens her mouth, but Ace cuts her off. “And then I’ll give Saint carte blanche to remind you how fucking reckless you were. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry, husband. You haven’t seen me in real action yet. I’m not just an expert in torture. I’m also pretty damn good at hand-to-hand combat.”

I raise my hand. “I can vouch for that. I’ve trained with her enough and have the scars to prove it.”

“Fine. Goal is to grab Etta and get the hell back to the van. Agreed?”

Remy leans forward, dropping a kiss on his lips before she pulls away. “Do try to keep up, everyone.”

With that, she stalks off toward the other hallway, not bothering to make sure we’re following her.

Jay grins. “That woman has more balls than most of the men I know.”

Ace just grunts.

I smile. “I kinda think she forgot about her aversion to blood.”

“Aversion to blood?” Jay asks.

Ace and I share a look, and he gives me a small nod.

“She’s pregnant, and the smell of blood makes her nauseous.”

“Jesus Christ. She’s pregnant ?” Jay runs a hand over his mouth.

“Pregnant. Not hard of hearing. Get your prissy, gossiping asses moving, or I’ll take care of them all by myself.”

My chuckle echoes through the empty space. “Leave some for us, Rem. We’ve got our own aggression to work off.”

“No promises,” she sing-songs.

“Her sister anything like her?” Jay asks quietly, walking beside Ace and me.

“They’re identical twins—both gorgeous and deadly and not to be fucked with.”

“Hell, then I’m half in love with Beretta already.”

The door to the stairwell down the hall shuts, which is our signal to hurry our asses up. When we make it to the third floor, I’m a little ashamed to admit I’m winded. Remy, however, looks like she has enough energy to run a goddamn marathon. How is that possible? Aren’t pregnant women supposed to always be tired?

“On the count of three,” she whispers, “Jay, you open the door. I’m going out first. It will?—”

“Like hell I’m letting you put yourself in the direct line of fire,” Ace growls.

The emergency light on the exit sign gives off just enough light to see the glare she aims at her husband.

“It’s cute you think I’m giving you a choice.”

A loud bang echoes through the stairwell, like someone just got slammed into a wall.

“Remington—”

“Think about it, Ace. You’re aiming at a target in front of you, and then all of a sudden, they appear behind you. It’s a mindfuck. It throws people off 99.9% of the time. Etta and I have done this enough to have tested the theory.”

The muscles in his jaw clench, and I’m pretty sure I can hear the sound of his teeth grinding, but he relents. “Fine, but I swear to Christ, doll, one scratch…”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she immediately starts counting. “One. Two. Three!”

Jay twists the handle, pulling the door open in one smooth move. Remy steps out into a hallway with only a dim flickering light illuminating the space, sidestepping at least six dead bodies, while the rest of us fall into step behind her.

“You fat son of a bitch!” a female voice snarls just before two people come crashing through the doorway of one of the rooms.

A short man in black cargo pants, shirt, and vest stumbles back a few feet, putting him right into Remy’s path. She doesn’t even give him a chance to reply. She just steps up to his back and efficiently slices his throat, dropping him to the ground at her feet.

“Remy?” Etta straightens, gasping for breath, a pistol in her right hand.

“Hello, sister.”

“‘Bout damn time you showed up.”

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

Another man appears in the doorway behind Etta, who’s wearing what looks to be a hospital gown. Remy pulls back her arm and sends the knife sailing through the air before he can even lift the hand holding his gun. The knife lodges right in the center of his chest, and he crashes into the wall before slowly sliding to the floor.

“This is so anti-climatic.” Remy looks down at the man at her feet, her boots covered in his blood. Her fists clench at her sides, but she manages to hold it together.

Ace and I share a surprised look.

Then the door at the far end of the hall opens, and six men rush out. Everything happens so fast. One second, both groups are staring at each other, and the next, Jay rushes forward, grips Etta by the shoulders, and spins her into the open doorway beside her just as the men raise their guns and open fire. Remy drops back into a small alcove as Ace and I hit the ground, firing our weapons.

Three of the men fall instantly, but the other three start to advance on our position.

“Remy?” Ace calls out, swapping his clip for a new one as I do the same.

“As if they could kill me that easily,” she quips.

I’d laugh at his deep sigh if I wasn’t just the teensiest bit concerned myself.

“Jay?” I call out.

“We’re good.”

Remy pulls out another knife from the holster strapped to her thigh. With her back against the wall, she risks a quick look at our attackers, only to have a bullet whiz by within an inch of her face.

“Goddammit, Remy?—”

But I see the look on her face—the manic smile that’s spread wide. This side of her loves the risk, the danger. That’s why I’ve always forced her to spread our projects out. It’s too easy for bloodlust to take over, and once it has, the distinction between righteous and non-discriminatory becomes blurred.

“Don’t worry, husband. I never miss.”

The gunfire pauses while the men reload, and Remy takes advantage of their disadvantage . Running forward, she plunges the knife into the throat of the closest man, spinning out of reach as the second man attempts to latch onto her arm. Guy three finishes reloading then tries to aim in her direction.

Can’t have that.

My bullet hits him right in the temple, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

“You throw punches like a girl.” Remy grabs the tall, thin man by the vest as he desperately tries to get away from her then, despite their height difference, cocks back and punches him straight in the nose.

“You fucking bitch!” he howls.

“What did you just call me?” Remy asks, gripping her knife in her hand. “Tsk, tsk. That’s not very nice. Someone should teach you some manners.”

“How about I teach you what happens when you cross the wrong motherfucker?”

“Oh, dude, I hate to tell you. But that’s me .” With a single jab, the knife slams into his belly, and Remy doesn’t pull it out. She just twists it as the man drops to his knees at her feet, screaming. When she finally yanks the weapon out of his gut, she trails the tip up his throat until it digs into the bottom of his chin. “I’d apologize for what I’m about to do, but I wouldn’t mean it.”

He just gurgles something unintelligible in response.

Straightening, Remy uses the toe of her boot to tip the man over, cuts the vest off, and slices his black shirt open.

“What the hell is she doing?”

“You sure you want to know?” I ask, getting to my feet.

“I fucking asked, didn’t I?” Ace grumbles.

“She’s using that man’s chest as a notepad to leave a message for her brother.”

When she’s done, she wipes off the blade of her knife on the man’s pants and heads to where we’re waiting. She pauses at the doorway where Etta and Jay disappeared.

“She okay?” Remy asks.

“I’m fucking fine. Just…a little…weak…”

“Whoa!” Jay’s voice reverberates down the hall. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Remy’s shoulders relax, and she glances up as we walk toward her. “You both okay?”

“I’m good.”

Brushing off the dust from my shoulder, I meet her worried stare. “Me too.”

Stepping into her, I brush a few stray hairs out of her face, my hand cradling her cheek. “I fucking love it when you go all badass, ya know.”

There’s a shift in her eyes, and Remy reappears with a grin. “I know.”

My lips touch hers. It’s sweet but quick, my high-alert instincts making it impossible to let my guard down.

“There are three dead men in here,” Jay says, stepping out into the hallway with Etta passed out in his arms.

“That means there’s still one unaccounted for,” Remy murmurs.

Just then, one of the doors opens just behind Remy. The man doesn’t even have a chance to say a word. A bullet hits him right between the eyes.

Remy’s stunned eyes dart to her husband.

Ace glowers at his wife. “I don’t miss either, doll.”

She nods. “Noted.”

“How are you not puking everywhere right now?” I ask, wrapping my arm around her back.

She reaches up, pulling out two small nose plugs. “These. They’re a?—”

She takes a breath, the stench of copper heavy in the air, and all color drains from her face. Spinning out of my hold, she loses her dinner all over the bloody floor.

Ace sighs. “Probably should’ve waited until you got outside, doll.”

Stepping up to her back, he rubs circles as she heaves.

“This is so unfair,” she wails, swiping her forearm across her mouth. “You better not tell the others about this.”

“Our lips are sealed.” I mime the motion.

She just rolls her eyes, trying not to breathe too heavily.

“C’mon. We need to get out of here.” Ace steps into her, scooping her into his arms, and heads for the stairwell.

“Yeah. Before my belly decides there’s something left to bring up.”

“You got her?” I ask, turning to Jay. He’s staring down at Etta with an almost dazed expression on his face. “Jay?”

“Huh? Oh…uh… Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve got her. Let’s go.”

I hide my grin. Another strong man falls under a Steele’s spell. Poor fool has no idea what he’s in for with that one.