No Place to Run (KGI 2)

Steele and Rio had joined Phillips’s teams hours before, when night still shrouded the rocky hills. They’d established a tight perimeter around the compound, and P.J. and Cole were in position, their rifles trained on the front entrance.

It was a mission Sam should have felt good about. Phillips’s teams had evened the odds. He had absolute faith in his own men. This should be a walk in the park. Only this was personal. This was involving people he loved.

Love. God, he loved her. And it had to hit him now? When he was about to put her in danger? He looked away from her because if he didn’t, he was going to lose it.

He had to pull it together. He could not go into this with his head so goddamn messed up. He had to forget love. He had to forget about his mother. He had to forget about Sophie, and oh God, he had to forget about his child.

Just a job. He had to keep objectivity or he was going to make a mistake and he’d lose them all.

Only, his pulse wouldn’t slow, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Over fourteen goddamn years of being fearless and stoic in the face of danger, and he was going to fuck it all up now when it mattered the most.

There were three armed guards at the heavy metal gate. The tension level in the SUV went through the roof. Garrett pulled to a stop and cracked the window.

“We’re here to see Tomas Mouton,” he said coolly.

Sophie went rigid next to Sam.

The guard’s gaze swept the SUV, and he gestured for Garrett to open his door.

“Not going to happen,” Garrett said. “Tell Mouton we’re here. He’s expecting us.”

The guard’s nostrils flared, but he picked up a radio and relayed the information. A moment later the gate began to sweep open, and they were motioned through.

“You stay behind me at all times,” Sam said to Sophie, though he’d already gone over the plan a half dozen times. “You don’t move, you don’t do anything until we tell you, and if I tell you to get down, you drop immediately.”

She nodded but never looked away from the house that loomed closer in the windshield.

They stopped directly in front of the main entrance, exactly in the location they’d pinpointed so that Cole and P.J. had clear shots to the front steps.

Everything hinged on a game of chicken and KGI not flinching first. Sam hoped to hell Tomas was the nervous type.

Garrett got out first but stayed behind the open door. Resnick popped out on his side, and then Donovan got out on his side and knocked the seat forward for Ethan.

“Stay in the truck until I tell you,” Sam murmured to Sophie as he too opened his door.

Sam stepped into the morning sun, glad that the light was behind them. He’d take any advantage he could.

The seconds ticked into minutes until finally the front door opened and Tomas Mouton stepped out, flanked by two guards. He looked nervous—a good sign—and when he caught sight of the men surrounding the SUV he halted, and for a moment looked uncertain.

Sam stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Garrett.

“Where is my mother?” he called out.

The two men were separated by a good twenty yards and a row of four steps leading up to the concrete landing outside the front door.

“Where is my niece?” Mouton returned.

Sam gestured at the truck. “She’s inside.”

“As is your mother.”

Silence yawned, and Sam said nothing, waiting for Mouton to make the next move.

“Bring her out. I want to see her. If you’re trying to pull something, Kelly, I’ll have your mother executed on the spot.”

“As a gesture of good faith, I’ll bring Sophie out. That’s all. She doesn’t make a move toward you until I see my mother. Understand?”

All the air left Sophie’s lungs as Sam backed toward the truck and extended a hand inside. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t want him to witness the terrible fear that streaked through her veins. She grasped his fingers and slid over until she stepped out of the truck.

“Stay behind the door,” Sam directed.

When he was satisfied with her position, he moved back ahead of her to face Mouton.

“You see her. Now I want to see my mother. And she better be unharmed, Mouton.”

Sophie’s uncle’s mouth drew into a frown. No, he didn’t like threats. She’d seen that look countless times when her father had issued a set-down to his younger brother.

Tomas ignored Sam and looked directly at her. He had a distinct look of unease on his face. And fear. She could almost smell his fear. His forehead was shiny in the sunlight, and when she looked down at his hands, they were balled into fists at his sides.

“The key, Sophie. Show me the key.”

Not waiting for direction from Sam, she slowly held her hand up, flashing the metal in the sun so he could plainly see the key and the leather band that had secured it to her father’s neck.

The door opened again and the men surrounding her and the SUV all tensed, each reaching for his gun. The guards at Tomas’s side reacted by drawing their rifles.

Marlene Kelly came into view looking pale and haggard, but Sophie didn’t look at her. No, her focus was on the man nearly covered by Marlene. The man holding one arm tightly around her neck and pressing a gun to her temple with his other hand.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her palms went damp, and her stomach clenched in a knot so tight she thought she was going to puke.

It wasn’t possible.

She’d killed him.

Sam froze when he saw the man holding his mother like a human shield. Not much of him was visible, but he could see enough to know he’d been had. Not just had, but truly and royally fucked.

Son of a bitch.

He glanced sideways at his brothers, but he refused to look back at Sophie, refused to give her or her bastard father the satisfaction.

God, when he remembered the tears Sophie had conjured as she fed him that sob story about her home life and how she’d shot and killed her father, it made him want to puke. She was good, and he’d been sucked in, hook, line and sinker.

Was the baby even his or had she lied about that too?

“Jesus,” Garrett muttered.

It echoed Sam’s own thoughts perfectly.

“I believed her too, man,” Garrett said quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.