“Screw the Brass. I have an agenda of my own right now.” His eyes were on the house once more. It looked abandoned. As if no one had been there in months.
But he knew how deceiving appearances could be.
“Where are you?” Tracy whispered.
“I’m helping a friend.” Saxon, I’m paying you back. “As soon as the job is done, I’ll be back. I promise.”
He disconnected the call. Climbed from the car. Checked his weapon. There was no sound on the street. Nothing at all. It was a hot day and there wasn’t even any wind stirring from those trees.
He figured he had two options. Sneak in or go in with guns blazing. Since there was only one road leading to the house, sneaking wasn’t so much an option for him. The guy would have heard my car coming up.
He took out his weapon. It looked like option two was the winner. Time to go in blazing.
He ran for the door. He didn’t have a search warrant because this wasn’t any kind of sanctioned case. He’d checked the missing persons’ database—no Zoe Peters was listed. Since he couldn’t handle this one the right, legal way, he’d do it his way. Victor kicked that door in and raced inside. “FBI!” he yelled.
But the small den was empty. It appeared to have been empty for a long time. The empty room was covered with only cobwebs and dirt. A rat ran across the floor.
Victor raced through the narrow hallway. The bedroom on the right was empty. Half of the wall in there looked as if it had rotted away. He turned to the bedroom on the left. “Zoe Peters!” Her name was close to a roar. “I’m here to help you!” Only he wasn’t seeing her. He checked the kitchen—or what was left of the kitchen. Someone had ripped out the sink and all of the electrical outlets. The house had been trashed. He knew it was a foreclosure, but he’d been hoping…shit, he’d hoped that—
“Here!”
He spun around. His feet kicked against an old rug that had been left at the edge of the hall. And why the hell was that rug there? Everything else had been taken from the place.
He shoved the rug out of his way and saw the trapdoor that it had hidden. The house had a cellar. Well, no wonder the home had looked deserted from the outside. He lifted up the trapdoor and it gave a long, loud creak.
Darkness waited below him. He reached down and touched a wooden ladder that was connected to the wall. He climbed down, making certain to keep his gun ready.
When he touched down on the floor of that cellar or basement or whatever the hell it was, he pulled a pen light from his pocket and shone it around the area. There was a door on his right. He made his way to it and twisted the knob. Locked.
Like that ever stopped him. He kicked that door open, just as he’d done upstairs, and Victor rushed inside at the same time that the lights flashed on, far too bright. He blinked, caught off guard for a moment and blinded by the light, then something slammed into the back of his head. He hit the floor hard, but Victor rolled quickly, coming back up to his feet in a lunge. The broken remnants of a wooden chair were around him.
“Don’t even try it, hero,” a low voice growled at him. “You make a move at me, and I’ll take us all out.”
He could see the SOB talking to him, and Victor knew he was staring at Hugh Rowe. The guy looked just like his DMV picture—well, minus about ten pounds and with some scraggly-ass stubble covering his jaw. Hugh had a small, black device in his hand. And the jerk was grinning from ear to ear.
“Please…” A soft voice came from behind Victor. “He’s got the bomb on me.”
And Victor turned then to meet a pair of frightened green eyes. His gaze swept over the woman, noting her features—not delicate, but more sensual with her full lips and high cheekbones—her long, dark hair, her golden skin and—
The bomb that was strapped to her chest.
What the fuck did I walk into here? This wasn’t like any abduction that he’d ever seen.
“Drop the weapon,” Hugh snapped at him. “Or I’ll make the pretty girl go boom.”
Jaw locking, Victor did. Hugh scrambled forward and grabbed the gun. His right hand stayed locked around that little black device. A detonator.
“Now who the hell are you?” Hugh asked.
Victor faced him, trying to appear non-threatening. He knew he couldn’t make a move against the guy because he didn’t know enough about the bomb they were dealing with. “I’m an FBI Agent, and I’m here to rescue Ms. Peters.”
Hugh laughed. “Ain’t no one rescuing her. That bitch is going to pay.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times!” Zoe cried out, her voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I don’t even know you.”
“But I know you, too well,” Hugh said. He pointed the gun at Victor. “And you’re going to die, too, because I don’t want no FBI asshole messing up my plans!”
“You don’t want to shoot me,” Victor said. “That’s a bad idea. Especially considering that I can help you.” It wasn’t his first time in a hostage situation. He knew he had to keep the guy talking. But it is the first time an abducted woman has been wired to explode!
“You can’t help me! You can’t—”
“Luther Bates killed your father. Did you know that?”
The guy blanched. All of the color poured from his face. “No, no, that’s a lie! I’m waiting to get word from my dad now. He’s gonna tell me what to do next!”
“He’s not going to tell you a damn thing. He’s on a slab somewhere, if they haven’t already dumped his body in a grave near the prison.”
Zoe gasped behind Victor. “You shouldn’t have told him that.”
“But it’s true,” Victor said. If the guy had been following his father’s orders—and it sure sounded as if he had—then Hugh needed to know that the man wasn’t pulling his strings any longer. Titus Rowe was dead. “I was in the prison with Luther. I talked with him. He’s in solitaire because of what he did to Titus.”
The gun was shaking in Hugh’s hand. So was the detonator. Not good. The last thing he wanted was for a nervous finger to pull the trigger on the gun or to accidentally make that bomb explode.
“I’m guessing,” Victor continued quietly, “that Bates knew your father had ordered you to take Zoe. Bates killed your old man because of what he’d done.”
“No! He’s not dead! I’d know—”
“The cops couldn’t find you to tell you the news.” Because they’d probably just contacted Hugh’s boss in Charleston, and that guy had no idea where Hugh was. “Your father’s dead, Hugh. So you don’t have to carry out his dirty work any longer. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.”
The gun lowered. Victor’s shoulders remained stiff and his muscles locked. Lowering the gun is a good start. But he wanted that gun totally out of the guy’s hand. The gun and the detonator. “I need you to put down the gun and the bomb trigger. We’re all going to walk out of here together.”
But those words snapped Hugh’s head right back up. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s supposed to be dying today!”
“Please!” Zoe cried out. “I haven’t hurt you! I haven’t done anything to you! I didn’t even know you until you broke into my house and took me!’
Victor advanced on Hugh, but he made sure to move his body to the side as he closed in on the guy. If Hugh got trigger happy, he didn’t want the bullet to be any place close to that bomb. “Give me the gun,” Victor said. My freaking gun.
But Hugh’s brow had furrowed. “You were in the prison. Talking with Bates.” His head lifted. He aimed the weapon at Victor once more. “You’re on his payroll, aren’t you? Just another dirty agent, willing to do anything for good old Luther.”
“No.” An immediate denial.
“You made a deal with him! I’ve seen it before! Cops, FBI agents—you’re all on the take!”
Shit. He did have a deal with Bates. And that deal was contingent on getting Zoe Peters out of that place alive. “You have it wrong—”
“What’s he gonna give you?” Spittle flew from Hugh’s lips.
“If you take me out? What is that bastard gonna do for you?”
Cancel a hit. “Hugh—”
“What is your deal with him?” Hugh was screaming now.
Zoe was dead silent.
Victor lifted his chin. “If I bring Zoe back in, then he’ll cancel a hit that he has…a hit on one of my friends.”
Hugh laughed. Mocking, rough laughter. “He’s lying to you. He won’t cancel anything. Your friend is dead, and you don’t even realize it.” The laughter slowly faded away. “Dead…like you.”
Then he fired at Victor.
Chapter Fourteen
Victor hadn’t checked in.
Saxon frowned down at his phone. His brother should have called by now, but he hadn’t. Victor never missed a check-in. Never.
Victor had sworn he would call Saxon. The plan had been for Saxon to never call him, probably because his uber-suspicious brother wanted to only use a burner phone when he contacted Saxon but…Something was obviously wrong with the plan.
Saxon called his brother. Not some number to a burner phone, but Saxon’s real number. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
Pick up, Vic. Just pick up.
On the fourth ring, the phone was answered.
“Victor,” Saxon said his name in a relieved rush. “What the hell, man? You missed your check-in with me—”
Then he heard laughter. Laughter that sure as shit didn’t belong to Victor.
“I’m afraid Victor will be missing more than just a check-in,” a grating voice told him.
“Who is this?” Saxon demanded as every muscle in his body locked down.
“I’m the man who just shot the FBI agent.”
“Then you’re the man I’m coming to kill,” Saxon said flatly. Victor isn’t dead. Vic isn’t dead!
“Get in line,” the guy told him and he hung up the phone.
No, no!
Saxon dialed back immediately, but the phone just rang and rang.
***
“I thought you were here to rescue me,” Zoe Peters said as she turned her head to stare at Victor. “Not die with me.”
He wasn’t dead, not yet. The bastard had shot him in the right shoulder—trying to take out my firing arm—then he’d cuffed Victor and left him on the floor of that damn basement.
Now he was in that room with Zoe, and she still had a bomb strapped to her chest. Not the best odds he’d ever faced, but not the worst ones either.
Victor’s phone was ringing again. A phone that Hugh had in his hand.
“Who is that asshole calling?” Hugh demanded. “Why won’t he just stop?”
Victor sucked in a deep breath and ignored the pain that pulsed through him. “That asshole is my brother…” Think, think, think. There had to be a way out of this. A way that didn’t involve Victor and Zoe getting blown into a million pieces.
“Family,” Hugh muttered, disgust thick in his voice. “Family is why I’m here. Why you’ll die. Why she…” Fury darkened his face. “Why she will die. I’m going to make Bates pay for what he’s done. I will make him—”