Chapter Twenty-Five
REGROUP
Axel kept his arm draped across Whip’s shoulders as they followed Knox through the underground corridors.
He hadn’t realized how hard his heart had been pounding until he’d found him.
Hell, it was still pounding.
Losing Whip had taken years off his life.
Probably added a few gray hairs too.
He never wanted to go through that again.
The job didn’t care what he wanted.
Tomorrow, it could be Whip.
Next week, it could be Knox.
Someday, it might be him.
That was the badge.
You showed up anyway.
His grip tightened for half a second before he forced himself to let it ease. Whip was here. Walking under his own power. Already thinking three steps ahead within five minutes after escaping a kidnapping.
Typical Whip.
Axel pushed through a heavy steel door.
The room beyond had been converted into a temporary command post. Folding tables had been shoved together beneath fluorescent lights.
Radios crackled from every direction. A large floor plan of the underground levels had been taped across one wall, colored markers and handwritten notes covering nearly every corridor.
Two Seattle deputies stood over it with SWAT operators while another marshal relayed updates into a headset.
Boone eyed them from behind the table up front.
Davis looked up for a second.
“There he is.”
The tension disappeared from the room so quickly, Axel hadn’t realized everyone else had been carrying it too.
Whip slipped out from under Axel’s arm as the door closed behind them.
“Good to have you back,” Boone said.
“They made a few mistakes,” Whip answered.
A few laughs broke around the room.
Boone looked at Whip for a long moment before nodding once.
Everyone took their seats. Axel remained beside Whip, choosing the wall over a chair.
Boone planted both hands on the folding table.
“Listen up.”
The quiet conversations around the room died immediately.
“The building remains locked down. Seattle PD has every exit covered, and every guest who attended the gala is being accounted for. A few may have slipped through before the perimeter went up, but for the most part they’re still on site.”
His gaze swept the room.
“Our first objective hasn’t changed. Find Charleston. Find Cutter.”
Nobody argued.
Nobody needed convincing.
Boone nodded toward Davis.
Davis gestured to a man sitting nearby.
“This is Scotty,” he said.
A slender man with a mop of dark hair sitting behind a bank of monitors gave a brief wave.
“Hey.”
“He’s our inside source,” Davis continued.
“He’s the reason we got inside Charleston’s operation.”
Scotty shrugged.
“I try.”
“What have you got?” Boone asked.
Scotty swiveled back toward his screens.
“Charleston had Cutter waiting for him.”
Axel frowned.
“You told us Cutter was gone.”
“I did,” Scotty said quickly. “And he was. Transport left exactly when I told you it would.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Then it turned around. Nobody told me why. Next thing I knew, Cutter was back here waiting for Charleston.”
Silence settled over the room.
Whip was the first to break it.
“Did we ever find out who Charleston was meeting?”
Davis nodded.
“We did.”
Every head turned toward him.
“Seattle PD picked him up trying to leave with the rest of the guests. He’s being held upstairs until we finish down here.”
“Who is he?” Axel asked.
Davis glanced at Scotty before answering.
“Councilman Richards.”
Whip frowned.
“Interesting.”
Axel didn’t think it was interesting at all. He wanted these fuckers put down. They’d put their hands on Whip.
Reason enough.
Boone pushed away from the table.
“It can wait. Charleston can’t.”
He looked around the room.
“Let’s finish this.”
They cleared from the bottom up. Davis and his team had the upper floors.
Axel, Whip, Knox, and a handful of SWAT officers searched the basement level, including the holding room where Whip had been taken.
Working their way up to the ground floor, they entered another maze of concrete corridors branching off the main lobby.
The tuxedos were gone.
Replaced by gray Marshal shirts, bulletproof vests, duty belts, and badges.
He tugged once on the front of his vest before wrapping his fingers around his Glock.
Much better.
He took point, checking the next intersection. Whip covered behind him while Knox watched their rear.
“How big is this place?” Knox muttered.
Nobody answered.
“Seriously. We came to a charity gala. Turns out it’s got its own zip code.”
“It’s only five stories,” Whip murmured.
Axel checked another doorway.
Empty.
Boone had locked down the entire building. Foundation employees, maintenance workers, caterers, and anyone else still inside would stay put until the operation was over.
“If I ever get rich,” Knox continued, “I’m buying a lake house.”
Whip eased past him to clear the room.
“You don’t even like fishing.”
“I don’t have to fish. Rich people just stand on docks.”
Axel snorted despite himself.
Knox grinned.
“See? Morale.”
They moved to the next corridor.
A heavy steel door.
Locked.
Whip produced the ring of keys he’d taken from his captor.
“You stole keys?”
“They were available.”
Axel shook his head and fought a smile.
“Of course they were.”
The lock clicked.
Inside was an office.
Empty.
They backed out and continued.
“You know,” Knox said, “after this is over, I’m requesting we only chase fugitives who live in normal houses.”
“Denied,” Axel said.
“I figured.”
Whip paused so suddenly Axel nearly walked into him.
“What?”
Whip tilted his head.
The three of them stood motionless.
Then he heard it.
Somewhere ahead—
Footsteps.
A door closed.
Not slammed, just closed.
Quiet as hell.
Real deliberate.
Whip pointed and whispered. “That way.”
Axel was already moving.
The door gave way beneath his shoulder. The age of the building was in his favor.
With a crack, he stepped into the room with his Glock raised.
He counted seven people huddled into a corner.
“U.S. Marshals.”
They all raised their heads except for one man in the back.
Most people would’ve missed it, but working with Whip had taught him to notice shit like that.
Cutter.
Trying to hide in the masses.
“You in the back,” Axel said, leveling his gun. No way was this fucker getting away.
Cutter glanced up, grabbed the nearest woman, and jerked her in front of him. His pistol came up against the side of her head.
Shit.
Axel couldn’t take the shot. Not with her in the way.
Cutter started backing toward the door, dragging the woman with him. One more step and he’d have the hallway.
Knox didn’t give him that step.
He drove in from Cutter’s blind side, batting the gun arm away from the hostage as his shoulder slammed into Cutter’s hips. The woman stumbled free as Cutter crashed backward into a row of cubicles.
The gun went off.
Axel launched the instant Knox hit Cutter. The gun fired as he closed the distance, the round punching harmlessly into the ceiling. Cutter still had the weapon.
Knox wrapped the gun arm against Cutter’s chest before he could swing it back around. The pistol broke free and skidded across the floor, hitting his foot.
Axel picked up the gun, tucked it away, and kept moving.
“Cuffs!” Knox said, his voice low.
Axel drove a knee between Cutter’s shoulder blades while Whip seized his right arm.
Cutter bucked hard beneath them, but with Knox pinning his hips, there wasn’t anywhere to go.
Then Whip wrenched both wrists together behind his back.
Axel put on the zip-ties.
Zip.
Cutter went still.
Knox climbed to his feet, breathing hard. He looked at the frightened employees, then over at Axel with a crooked grin.
“Guess morale really does matter.”
Axel snorted despite himself.
One fuck down, one to go.
Whip yanked Cutter to his feet and shoved him toward the door while Knox stepped up to take charge.
The guests filed out, still shaken but relieved it was over. Their relief would be short-lived if they had anything to do with Charleston’s operation.
“Good job noticing Cutter like that,” Whip said with a smile.
He grinned back.
“I’ve been paying attention.”
Axel watched Cutter disappear through the doorway surrounded by deputies before his eyes drifted back to Whip.
He was still there.
Bruised. Dirty. Tired as hell.
But standing on his own two feet.
That was all that mattered.
He hadn’t realized how many times he’d looked for Whip over the last two hours until he caught himself doing it repeatedly.
Like if he looked away too long, someone might take him.
Some part of him still expected to come around a corner and find an empty space.
He wasn’t built for that kind of helplessness.
The fucked up part was Charleston was still out there.
So, this wasn’t over.
Tomorrow, they’d start hunting him.
But tonight…
Tonight, Whip was safe.