Risky Romance (Wolf Security #4)

34. Grant

CHAPTER 34

Grant

All night long, I’d waited for the chopper that bitch B had promised to send. I’d sent three messages to her and each one was more pathetic than the last.

I was a goddamn fool to think she’d keep her word. B didn’t know the first thing about loyalty. She chewed people up and spit them out. Hell, she even exploited her own kids, right up until they both ended up riddled with cop bullets.

My hand trembled as I reached for the whiskey and chased another painkiller with a swig of the rare Japanese blend that cost more than most people’s monthly salary. But the burning swallow and the pills I’d been taking every two hours barely touched the agony radiating from my mangled legs.

I’d spent the night on the sofa with the pillows propping me up like a broken doll and my ravaged legs sprawled before me. They felt so foreign; it was like they’d already been amputated.

Over my right shoulder, my monitors provided a visual of my house perimeter. Other than Tiger chasing a mouse that she played with for ten minutes before she ate it, nothing had changed all night.

I had everything I needed within arm’s reach: drugs, phone, gun, water, and whiskey. Hours crawled by, marked only by the steady drain of my whiskey bottle and the never-ending pulse in my legs.

I fumbled another pill into my mouth, but it might as well have been a breath mint. My brain seemed to thicken, and my mind swirled in and out of a fog. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind but blackness crept in, and my body oozed into mush.

A heavy lump jumped onto my chest, yanking me back to consciousness.

“Tiger,” I croaked, my voice as brittle as dead leaves.

She responded with a rumbling purr, wedging herself into the narrow space between my body and the sofa back. As she rolled belly-up, demanding a tummy rub, a broken laugh escaped me. Here I was, probably dying, and my cat was treating it like a luxury spa day.

A flash of red and blue in the distance sent ice through my veins. I leaned forward, ignoring the white-hot agony that shot through my legs as I pressed my eye to the telescope.

Son of a bitch! That’s Cody and Jewel. They made it out of the fucking jungle.

My heart raced, matching the painful throb that somehow came from my exposed shin bone. As I watched, the strobing lights at the plantation multiplied like a virus and my worst nightmare unfolded. It looked like a fucking apocalypse down there as a stream of shadowy figures tracked a path from Bruce’s house toward the canning factory.

“Son of a bitch.” They’d found the drug handlers.

Through my scope, I tracked faces I’d memorized from countless hours of footage, the Alpha Tactical Ops team. My fingers tightened on the telescope until my knuckles went white. Those bastards had been hunting Scorpion Industries for years, and now they had their claws in my final operation.

Panic speared my chest. I had to move, had to run.

Four pristine motorcycles waited in the tunnels below, fueled and ready for a quick escape. I almost laughed at the irony. All those careful contingency plans to make sure I got away swiftly, but I was fucking trapped by my broken body.

I shifted my weight and as molten agony surged through my legs a strangled gasp spilled from my throat. Heaving breaths to combat the new hell, I scoured the sea of people through my scope, searching for Bruce or John.

For all I knew, John was face-down in some ditch, his severed arm still wrapped in that bloody tea towel. B had said she’d sent Bruce to deal with that truck, but what did it matter now? Even if he secured that cargo, there was no coming back from this.

I needed to call B. My hand inched toward the phone, but a razor-sharp bolt of pain from my shin stopped me cold. What was the point anyway? B had ditched me. I was on my own.

My computers held enough dirt to bury half the criminal underground. I should destroy those details and wipe everything clean, but even the thought of moving made my vision swim. Besides, that intel might be the only bargaining chip I had left. My get-out-of-jail-free card, if I lived long enough to play it.

Tiger’s therapeutic purring grew louder, and placing my hand on her belly, I closed my eyes.

The distinctive whop-whop of rotor blades yanked me back to consciousness. Hope fluttered in my chest like a wounded bird. Was that B? As I dragged my gaze to the security monitors over my shoulder, that hope curdled into ice-cold dread.

Five people moved like shadows through my external camera footage. Aria was in the lead with that psychotic bastard Viper behind her. Levi barged through my garden like he owned it. I had no idea who the other one was.

That sniper bitch Maya was in the rear.

Fear scraped up my spine like a million spiders.

Those five had me in their crosshairs, and that fucking bitch B was probably sipping mojitos in Tahiti.

What do I do?

The answer careened between my only two options: fight or die.

A broken laugh clawed its way up my parched throat. Who was I kidding? They were the same option, just with different timing.

“We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.” The man’s voice boomed from outside, but it was distorted as if filtered through water.

My doors were wide open. Even if I had the strength to use the gun at my side, they would cut me down before my trembling finger found the trigger.

Tiger’s purring intensified beneath my hand, and an odd sense of serenity settled over me. As her purring grew even louder it was like she was trying to tell me everything would be okay. Was this what acceptance felt like? Or was this the calm before the execution?

Another command echoed through my house, but my mind had turned to smoke. Dark figures shifted at the edges of my vision, moving methodically and lethally, yet blurry like watercolors.

“He’s got a gun!” A woman’s voice sliced through the haze.

I tried to wet my lips, but my mouth was desert-dry. The weight of my weapon vanished from beside me. Five guns aimed at my face.

I stared into one of the black holes and I didn’t even have the energy to flinch.

“Jesus. You’ve done a number on yourself.” The woman’s voice was like an angel’s song. Was that Maya, the sniper? Her dazzling blue eyes drilled into me.

It is her. My God, she’s stunning.

She leaned over me and winced. “Viper, get the first aid kit from the chopper.”

“Fuck no. I’m not doing anything for that bastard.” Viper’s words dripped venom.

“He has a broken right leg, and his shin bone is sticking out of a compound fracture on his left. He’s not going anywhere.” She rested her hand on my bare chest and her touch was so gentle my heart ached. I couldn’t remember a time when anyone had touched me with such kindness.

I cleared my throat. “I have information.”

The words came out like gravel, and I barely recognized my own voice.

Maya turned to the others. “See. He has information. We need to keep him alive.”

Yes. Yes you do. Relief flooded through me.

Viper leaned in, his breath hot and furious on my face. “What information?”

Beside me, Tiger rolled over, trying to burrow under my arm for protection.

I took a shallow breath as pain radiated through me. “The person behind Scorpion Industries.”

Viper’s eyes narrowed, and he jabbed a finger into my forehead. “Who?”

“Hey, cut that out Viper,” Maya snapped keeping her fierce glare on him until he retreated.

Tiger leapt onto the back of the sofa, curling against Viper’s massive arm and I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Please... don’t hurt Tiger.”

Viper scowled, then leaned over and smacked my leg, sending a fresh wave of agony through me. “I’m not a fucking savage like you.” To my disbelief, Tiger purred as Viper stroked her back.

When Viper picked up Tiger it was like my cat totally betrayed me as she curled into the hand he brushed along her back.

“Viper’s the animal whisperer,” Maya said. “He’ll look after Tiger, won’t you?” She shot him a warning look.

Viper glared at me. “That depends on what this piece of shit does.”

“I want immunity.” The words scraped past my lips.

“You’re not getting fucking immunity, dickhead,” Viper said.

I struggled to get my brain to focus. My thoughts were like a pack of cards constantly being shuffled. Finally, my ace card dominated the rest. Swallowing hard, I said, “Then I’m not telling you what I know about B.”

Their sudden silence beat loud and clear. They knew who I was talking about, but like me, they had no idea of B’s real identity.

But I’d said the magic name . . . the one that would keep me breathing.

As I closed my eyes, a small smile tugged at my lips.

Now they’re going to make sure I stay alive.

Provided they kept me away from the corrupt cops B had in her pocket.