Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Smoke and a bright flash of light filled the room, but Jayson and Lex didn’t wait around to find out what came next. They needed weapons. And really fucking fast.
Jayson sprinted toward his office, Lex right on his heels. They crossed the hallway, ducked inside and slammed the door shut. He ran straight to the gun safe and punched in the combination. It opened up, revealing a mini arsenal.
“He’s probably pissed we got Emma back.”
Jayson moved to the edge of a nearby window and carefully peered out.
Flurries swirled, but he didn’t see any signs of the assailant—or assailants—targeting his home.
“C’mon!” He shoved the window open and climbed out.
His boots hit the frozen ground with a dull thump, and Lex dropped down beside him.
“What’s the plan, Stan?” Lex hoisted his weapon, on high alert and ready for action.
“Let’s head to the stable before we freeze. See if we can get a count on how many tangoes we’re up against and send a 911 text to the guys.”
“Roger that.”
They moved away from the house, fast and low, and had almost reached the stable when gunshots popped, ripping up the snowy ground around them. Both men turned, walking backward as they returned fire.
When they reached the barn, Jayson yanked the door open. “Get in!” he yelled. Lex fired off another round then ducked inside. They each took up position on either side of the door. “How many do you count?” Jayson’s gaze scanned the back of his house, looking for any sign of movement.
“I clock one asshole on the far left.”
“One on the right, too.”
His attention shifted to the shattered sliding glass door where two more men emerged. They wore head-to-toe tactical gear, balaclavas and carried machine guns.
“Do these guys seem at all familiar to you?” Jayson murmured.
“Yeah. Very.”
Jayson’s eyes narrowed. “I think they’re the same mercs we ran up against in the woods right after we found that bag of gems. The same assholes who kidnapped Lottie.”
“And took her straight to Donato Ferrante.” Lex swore under his breath. “We need backup. Now.”
“Yeah.” Jayson pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text to the Motley Crew: 911. Ferrante’s mercs here. In the barn with Lex.
“They’re coming,” Lex warned.
A soft whinny echoed through the air. “I’ve got an idea.” Shoving his gun into its holster and strapping the machine gun across his back, he headed for the horse stalls. “C’mon.” Once he reached Magnus’s stall, he opened the door and guided him out.
“I don’t think now’s the time for a leisurely ride,” Lex said.
“You know how to ride, right?”
“Do I look like a cowboy? The only riding I do is when a woman is beneath me.” Lex looked at the huge horse with a wary expression.
“Time to broaden your horizons, Battle.” Jayson opened the second stall door and led Daisy out. After quickly bridling both horses, he shoved a step stool over. “Take Daisy. She’ll be good to you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“There’s no way we can outgun those guys. We just need to outrun them until the team arrives. Now, get on!”
“There’s no saddle!”
“No time,” Jayson declared. If they weren’t dealing with highly-skilled mercenaries intent on killing them, he would’ve laughed at the terror on his friend’s face over riding a horse. “Get your ass up, flyboy!”
Leaping up onto Magnus’s broad back with practiced ease, Jayson swung his rifle around. Lex managed to clamber up using the step stool, although not nearly as graceful or steady.
“Fuck my life,” Lex growled, clutching the reins with a white-knuckled grip.
“Head to the trails. And for fuckssake, hold on. ‘Ya!” Jayson slapped Daisy’s wide rear end, and she took off, heading for the barn’s back exit. Lex swore again, bouncing up and down as Daisy gained speed. Squeezing his legs, Jayson urged Magnus to follow.
They burst out of the rear stable door and the horses galloped toward the maze of trails ahead.
It would be a good place to lie in wait until the rest of the Motley Crew arrived.
He knew these woods like the back of his hand, and he planned to hunker down and get some shots off.
If those jokers thought they could just bust into his home without consequences, they were sorely mistaken.
Once the trees provided adequate cover, Jayson slid off Magnus and grabbed Daisy’s reins. “Stay put and watch the horses,” he told Lex. “I’m going to try to take a couple of them down.”
Crouching low, he stalked forward, picking his way through shrubbery, and stopped behind a large tree. Using it for cover, he watched and waited. He counted on their attackers hearing the horses and giving pursuit. It would take them a bit to catch up, but he had no doubt they would try.
Jayson’s extensive Ranger training more than prepared him to deal with dangerous fuckers like these. He just hoped to God they’d come straight here and hadn’t attempted to grab Emma again. Otherwise, they were dead men walking.
His phone buzzed, and he plucked it out to see a text from Brand: We’re here. Circling around the house.
He fired off a text back: Mercs in barn. We’re in the woods.
As he pocketed his phone, three mercs came into view, stepping around the side of the stable. Another two walked out the open rear door. Hell yeah. The Motley Crew’s timing had been impeccable.
Jayson lifted his weapon, looking down the rifle sights, and took careful aim.
Like shooting fish in a barrel. The moment he heard gunfire erupt as his team descended, he fired.
Target down. The rest of the mercs dropped in rapid succession.
Except one. He took off toward Sabrina’s house.
Well, it wasn’t her place anymore, but he couldn’t think about that right now.
Spinning around, he raced back over to Lex and the horses. “Goddammit!” Lex roared. “Don’t leave me watching horses when I can help!”
But Jayson ignored him and leapt onto Magnus’s back.
He kicked his heels, turning the horse toward the neighbor’s property, and the horse bolted.
Magnus’s hooves pounded over the dirt trail and Jayson guided him straight toward a downed log.
They soared over it and landed on the snow-covered grass.
Lifting his Glock, Jayson fired off one…
two…three shots at the retreating merc. Bullseye!
Down he went, sprawling onto the ground, a bullet in his leg.
Sliding off the horse, Jayson raced forward, quickly closing the distance, and shouted, “Drop your weapon!”
Rolling onto his back with a loud curse, the man lifted his hands and tossed his gun. Jayson kicked it away, keeping his pistol aimed at the merc. “Don’t fucking move,” he hissed.
Jayson crossed his arms, attention focused on the merc now zip-tied to the custom chair he’d built. His team surrounded the unmasked man, interrogating the fucker as his leg bled, making a mess on the kitchen floor.
At first, he’d refused to talk. But once he realized his predicament—that he was the last man standing and his only hope of walking out of there alive hinged on him cooperating—he caved.
It was amazing how quickly loyalties fizzled with a Glock 19 in your face.
Then again, did a hired gun have any true loyalties other than to himself?
It didn’t take long to verify he worked for Rocco Ferrante. “He’s pissed and out for vengeance,” the man told them. “Said you killed his brother.”
“He took my daughter,” Jayson gritted out.
“Yeah, she’s lucky you got her back. Ferrante had…plans.”
“What kind of plans?” Brand asked.
The merc shrugged. “Ferrante is a man on a mission. He won’t stop until you and everyone you love is dead. And that pretty FBI agent?”
At the mention of Sabrina, Jayson tensed. “She’s gone,” he said. “Safe, and nowhere near here.”
The merc had the audacity to smirk. “Is that what you think?”
Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of dread filled him, turning his blood to ice. Moving closer, Jayson leaned down, until they were face to face. “Say again?”
“The Fed is dead,” he snarled, twisting his wrists, trying to break free.
Jayson sucked in a breath, his world grounding to an abrupt halt. No. She can’t be. He refused to believe it. “You’re lying. She’s on a plane, almost home.”
The merc’s mouth edged up further, baring his teeth. “No. Ferrante sent men to grab her at the airport before she ever boarded.”
A muscle jerked in Jayson’s cheek and he clenched his hands into fists.
“By now,” the merc continued, “Ferrante’s probably torturing the shit out of her. He doesn’t care for Feds, no matter how pretty. And since you got your daughter back, he decided to go after her. Too bad he’s going to fuck her up. She was such a hot piece of as—”
Jayson punched the smug asshole in his face. Once. Twice. He was going in for a third time when hands grabbed his arms, dragging him away from the piece of shit looking up and smiling through the blood covering his teeth.
A blistering rage seethed through Jayson and something inside him shifted. If they hurt one hair on Sabrina’s head…
His gut twisted and he pulled hard, trying to break free, wanting to smash the merc’s face into a bloody pulp. If it weren’t for Wes and Corey holding him back, he would’ve pulverized the bastard.
“Where. Is. She?” He ground each word out, barely recognizing his own voice. Raw and hoarse. Desperate.
The merc shrugged an indifferent shoulder. “Like I said, she’s probably already dead.”
With a roar, Jayson broke free from his friends’ hold and launched himself at the soon-to-be dead mercenary.
Slamming into the man, the chair tumbled backward, hitting the floor with a loud thud.
It didn’t break or splinter, providing a perfectly solid backdrop for Jayson’s rage.
He grabbed the asshole by the throat, squeezing until the man’s eyes bugged with fear.
Because, yeah, he was done fucking around with this piece of shit.
“Where…is…Sabrina?” he growled. The merc made a garbled, choking sound and Jayson squeezed harder. When his eyes began to roll back in his head, Jayson loosened his grip, allowing him to answer. “I won’t ask again.”
His team hovered over them, everyone waiting to see if the fucker would give a location. Or if they’d have to beat it out of him.
“Vegas,” the merc finally sputtered. “But you won’t be able to break into his compound.”
“We’ll see about that.” In a swift move, Jayson lashed out with the knife edge of his hand, landing a perfectly executed shuto to the merc’s carotid sinus. The sharp strike caused a sudden loss of oxygen to the brain, and the merc passed out.
“Nice hit,” Chaz murmured.
Jayson hoisted himself up off the floor. “They took her to his desert house. I need to leave. Now.”
When he stalked forward, Brand grabbed his arm. “We all do. Don’t even think you’re doing this alone.”
Jayson gave him a grateful nod, forcing himself to calm down and breathe. He knew his friends would help, but he never wanted them to feel obligated to put themselves in danger. They’d found so much happiness in the past year, and the last thing he wanted to do was somehow rip that away.
“Lex, get the Spitfire ready,” Brand said. “I’ll touch base with Mitch when we’re in the air. He’ll have someone clean up here.”
Nostrils flaring, Jayson held himself back from launching an assault of vicious kicks on the unconscious mercenary.
First Emma, now Sabrina. Neither of them deserved to be dragged into such a deadly situation.
Rocco Ferrante was well-renowned for his cruelty, and worry began to eat away at Jayson’s nerves.
She isn’t trained for this, he thought. Though his agent was tough as nails, the Bureau didn’t train their agents to withstand torture. Unlike US military personnel and CIA intelligence operatives, Feds weren’t at high risk of being captured by hostile nations.
But if anyone could handle that pissant Ferrante, he believed Sabrina could.
Even so, he hated the idea of her being hurt. Even worse, it was because of him. Forcing himself to focus on the mission, he locked down his worry. It wouldn’t do either of them any good.
I’m coming, Sunflower. Please, hang in there.