“Fuck,” Van Zandt mutters. “Let’s go.”
Anders and Halifax go around back, while Tyrese, Lex, and I take the front.
Lex reaches out and tests the front door. “Unlocked,” he mouths. I nod. Using his fingers he counts down—three, two, one—silently, he pushes open the heavy door. Leading with our guns, we each enter the foyer.
We spread out, Lex going left, Tyrese going straight, and me going right. I check a small office and head back to the foyer when the shouts break the excruciating silence.
Goose bumps rise up on my skin and my stomach churns with acid. Gavin’s voice. Gavin shouting. Terror like nothing I’ve ever felt ripples up my spine. My mind slides into the ingrained training from the FBI academy. Whisper quiet, I lead the other two down a long hall.
Another shout echoes through the empty rooms.
“Fuck you, asshole!”
It’s Gavin again. His yelling helps me narrow down his location in the sprawling mansion.
“Troy, don’t do this!”
A chill flutters through me. That’s Dennis Walker’s voice. I glance back at Van Zandt. His hardened gaze meets mine and I know he’s thinking the same thing as me—Troy Wolski, our suspect, is in the house.
The loud reverberation of a gunshot stops me in my tracks. Without another thought, I flat-out fucking run towards the noise.
Van Zandt nearly collides with me when I come to an abrupt halt at the end of a long hall. It takes about a half a second for my eyes to zero in on the knife being held to Gavin’s neck, a thin rivulet of blood dripping down the beautiful skin of his throat. My entire fucking world collapses into that single point of contact.
“Don’t fucking move!”
Everyone freezes—Tyrese and Van Zandt behind me—Halifax, Anders, and Dennis Walker are in the room and already have their hands up in the air.
Troy Wolski. Ex-Special Forces, trainer for military films, stalker, serial killer, and all-around-psycho is pressing a knife to my loved one’s throat while pointing a very large caliber handgun at the men in the room.
“Put your weapons down or I’ll open his carotid,” Wolski hisses, spittle flying from his mouth. Gavin flinches when Wolski shifts, opening up a new cut, sending another small trickle of dark red to collect at Gavin’s collar.
“Don’t hurt him,” I manage with an amount of confidence I don’t feel inside. Slowly, I lay my Glock on the thick carpet at my feet. “See? We’re putting down our guns. Let him go.”
I hear Tyrese and Van Zandt’s weapons hit the floor as well. Briefly, I wonder whether Anders or Halifax fired the shot because it sure as fuck didn’t come from Wolski’s fifty caliber monster.
Halifax sneers and out of the corner of my eye I see his chest puff up. “What the fuck do you want, Wolski?”
Motherfucking Halifax!
“Grant, shut up,” I snarl. If he gets Gavin hurt or killed I will make sure he never eats again without the help of a straw.
“You,” Troy growls, leveling his hand cannon on me. “You’re the boyfriend, aren’t you? Was it real for you or was it all just a scam like it was reported?”
I don’t move or let even a flicker of emotion cross my face. “Who are you?” I shoot back.
The bastard laughs and the knife shakes, causing Gavin to close his eyes and cringe.
“You fucker!” I shout, my body tense and ready to pounce. The deep-seated need to lash out and kill roars inside, waiting to be released. My hands clench at my waist.
“That answers my question.” Troy sneers, holding his gun steady, aimed directly between my eyes. “Do you love him? Would you die for him?” The monster drags the flat of the blade down Gavin’s throat. The rasp of the metal over his short stubble fills the room, the only sound besides the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears.
Gavin’s eyes snap open, locking on mine. Fear mirroring my own shines wetly in the bright blue. Looking deeper, I see more than panic and terror. I see strength and devotion and love. Without breaking our eye contact, I answer. “Yes. I would die for him.”
His lids flutter shut again, a saddened grimace marring his beauty. Did he think I would lie? Deny my feelings? Never again. I won’t resist the pull or ignore what I know to be true.
“What’s your endgame, Wolski?” Halifax asks. “You can’t think you’re getting out of here a free man.”
I glare at Grant. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not going to warn you again,” I hiss.