Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
EVERS
My back to the wall at the top of the stairs, I peered around the corner. The stair case in Tsepov's McMansion was white marble, curving around the two-story entry as it descended to the white marble foyer.
Pretentious and way oversized for the house, the staircase would have fit better in Rycroft Castle than a suburban house. It did give me a wide-open view of the front door, the stairs, the foyer, and the wide hall to the rest of the house. All empty.
Empty was wrong. After that flash-bang, there should have been someone on the stairs. They must have thrown it and taken off. But why? I didn't wonder for long.
Goon #5 came tearing around the corner, already barreling up the stairs before he spotted me. He looked as surprised to see me as I was that he was alone. His eyes flashed wide as his gun came up.
Not fast enough.
He was down, his head cracking on the marble steps, and I was vaulting over his body before he had a chance to register what was happening. I hoped agent Holley was prepared to explain all these bodies. I wasn't waiting around for Tsepov to kill me.
I crossed the foyer as fast as I could, not liking the exposure of the open space. Once in the wide hall that led to the rest of the house, I found an empty great room straight ahead, its tall windows looking out to the woods beyond the backyard.
I thought I spotted movement in the trees and hoped it wasn't wishful thinking. On my left was a narrow hall that looked like it led to a kitchen and breakfast room. Tsepov was not the kind of guy who hung around his kitchen.
Another hall led to my left, lined with oil paintings and dark-stained wainscoting. Bingo. I ducked into a doorway as two goons rushed past, weapons out, heading for the back door.
The movement in the trees hadn't been wishful thinking. Those two weren't going after me. Good. The more distracted they were the better my chances of finding Tsepov.
I moved down the hall in the direction the two goons had come from, hoping they'd been getting orders from the boss. The first door I came to was a bathroom, the second a sitting room. Both empty. The door at the end of the hall was ajar.
Flattening my back against the hall, I listened. Voices in the distance. A door opening. The room in front of me was quiet, but I didn't think it was empty. From the sliver I could see through the half-open door, it was an office or a library. Exactly what I was looking for.
I nudged the door open with my toe. A quick glance showed me a single man behind a wide mahogany desk. I was through the door, gun raised before Andrei Tsepov could move.
"Don't even think about it," I said. "I'll put a bullet in you before you can shoot."
Tsepov glanced at the gun on his desk but made no move to pick it up. My finger tightened on the trigger as he shoved his hands in his pockets with an air of nonchalance as if he wasn't the least bit worried about my gun aimed at his head.
I eased into the room, putting my back to the wall so I could see the open door and the windows, keeping my gun trained on Tsepov.
"You left quite a body count out there," he commented, seeming unconcerned with the loss of so many loyal henchmen.
I ignored the internal flinch at the reminder of what I'd done. Later. I could atone for all of it later. I had to finish this first.
"You never should have touched Summer."
It was true. If they'd never touched Summer, they wouldn't have had to trade her for me. If they hadn't taken me, I wouldn't have had to shoot my way out.
"That was an error in judgment, I'll admit," Tsepov conceded with an arrogant nod of his head. "I won't make another."
"I wouldn't bet on that," I said. "You're done."
Tsepov laughed, and the cocky, smug sound of it had my finger vibrating on the trigger of my gun.
A feral instinct in me knew he needed to be put down like a rabid dog.
He deserved it. For his crimes against so many unknown victims. For the women and children he'd sold. For putting his hands on Summer. For fucking touching her. Scaring her. For the role he'd played in my father's bad choices. For every life he'd destroyed, I wanted to pull the fucking trigger.
I didn't.
"The FBI is taking you in," I said, infuriated when he raised his shoulder in a shrug and shook his head.
"They can take me in, but they won't hold me."
I gritted my teeth, adjusted my stance, and kept the gun trained on his forehead.
Your job is to keep him here until Holley and his men arrive, I reminded myself. That's it. Do your job and stay cool.
Tsepov must have wanted me to pull that trigger because he couldn't shut the fuck up.
"This is a waste of your time," he said. "I know who has the account numbers. I have men on the way. Once we have the numbers, we'll get rid of the woman, your brother, and then we'll come for the rest of you. You, Cooper, Axel. Your father, his whore, and the girl last."
The venom in his voice burned like acid. My father stealing his money had damaged his pride so much it was worth destroying everyone I loved in revenge. Tsepov didn't care about collateral damage.
I could guess who the woman was considering Knox's current assignment. I could only hope that he and Lily Spencer were safe.
What the fuck did he mean by Maxwell, his whore, and the girl? It didn't make sense.
"Don't call my mother a whore," I said, trying to shake loose more information.
Tsepov didn't fall for my ploy. "Your mother isn't part of this. She was convenient, that's all."
"Then what the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean by his whore and the girl?"
Tsepov's mocking smile stretched across his mouth, baring his teeth, as a voice on a speaker filled the house.
“This is the FBI. Surrender your weapons. Face the wall and put your hands up.”
Knowing I was out of time, Tsepov shook his head. "You don't know how far heroes can fall, but you will." He laughed, raising his hands in the air and turning to face the wall. With one last smug look over his shoulder, he repeated, "You will."
The door to the office swung open, and agent Holley was there, gun raised, accompanied by three other agents, one of whom flashed a shiny set of handcuffs.
Holley read Tsepov his rights, cuffed him, and sent him out with the other agents.
I would have felt better if Tsepov had been even a little unnerved by his arrest.
Holley took in my bloody shirt, the flecks of red speckling my hands. "Heard there was a mess upstairs. You're coming back with me."
I started to tell him we'd do it later, but he cut me off. "We'll tell your family you're okay. You don't want your girl to see you like that. She's scared shitless as it is. And I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're debriefed."
I flicked the safety on the weapon and put it on the desk, adrenaline finally starting to fade, leaving my hands shaking. I was ready to sit. To sleep. To walk out of this house and forget everything that had happened here.
Cooper came through the door. His eyes were bright with relief, though all he said was, "Did you have to set the guy on fire?"
"That wasn't me. They threw up a flash-bang, and it landed right on their guy."
Under his breath, Cooper muttered, "Fucking amateurs."
Things moved quickly after that. Quickly and glacially slow.
Lucas headed back to Rycroft to collect Charlie and let Summer know I was fine.
I tried to call myself, but agent Holley wasn't having it.
No phone calls, no side trips. We were going straight to the FBI building, on communications blackout until they were done with me.
Holley wanted this by the book, with no special exceptions Tsepov's lawyers could pick at later.
I rode with agent Holley into the office, and aside from a quick duck under a shower and a change into the clean clothes Cooper brought, I spent the next few hours going over my time in Tsepov's lair in excruciatingly boring detail.
I hadn't enjoyed my visit the first time. Reliving it wasn't an improvement. Finally, Holley released me with a warning to be careful. Just because they had Tsepov and the men who'd been at the house didn't mean he was neutralized.
On the ride home, Cooper said, "You did what you had to do, Ev. Don't let it eat at you."
"I know."
I knew I'd done what I had to do.
I also knew it would eat at me. If that was the price I had to pay for getting out alive, so be it.
I'd never been so glad to see Rycroft Castle emerge from the trees. Summer was waiting on the stairs. As I jumped from the passenger seat of Cooper's SUV, she flew down, taking the steps two at a time before skidding to a halt in front of me.
Reaching up, she cupped my face in her palm, searching for any sign of injury.
"I'm okay," I reassured her, "didn't get a scratch."
At that, she threw herself into my arms, wrapping hers around me and squeezing so tight she drove a gust of breath from my lungs. I rested my cheek on the top of her head, drawing in the lemon and flowers scent of her. Home. I was home.
I was thinking I could hold her in my arms forever when she reared back and punched me in the chest.
"What the hell were you thinking? They could have hurt you. They could have killed you."
Her hands waved in the air as she yelled, and I had the feeling she was winding up for another punch. I caught her arms, tugging her close.
"I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I will never let anything happen to you."
Summer's eyes were wide and blue and swimming with tears.
"I never got to tell you. Everything happened so fast, and I never got to tell you."
"Tell me what?" I asked, watching one tear and then another trail down her cheeks.
"I love you. I never got to tell you that I love you."
"I know," I said, smiling down at her.
Summer glared through her tears, outrage all over her face. Rearing back, she swung her fist at my head.
That's my girl.
I caught her hand before she could slam it into my chin.
"You know?" she shrieked. "I finally tell you I love you, and all you have to say is you know?"
"I know you love me. Of course, I know. You saved my life, Summer. Your Dad—"
The fight drained out of her. Shoulders drooping, eyes on the ground, she said, "I couldn't let him shoot you."
I pulled her into my arms again, resting my cheek on the top of her head. "I'm sorry. So sorry. But I'm glad you love me enough to pick me."
"Every time," she whispered. "I'll always pick you."
"Is your dad—?" I didn't want to ask.
Summer let out a gust of air. "He's stable. For now. They said no visitors for a few hours. He's recovering from surgery."
"Is everyone else okay?"
"Fine. Tired from whatever Dad slipped in the wine." She pulled back, looking up at me, her eyes landing on mine briefly before skidding away. "I'm so sorry."
Tears spilled over her cheeks again, and my gut clenched in panic. Why was she crying? I was home, we were safe, her dad was alive. Tsepov was in jail. We hadn't heard from Knox, but I knew my brother. He'd turn up. There wasn't any reason to cry.
"What? Why? You don't have anything to be sorry about."
"You knew my dad was a problem, and I didn't believe you. I brought him into Rycroft, and he almost got all of us killed. It was my fault."
"That's bullshit," I said. Summer wasn't taking on her father's guilt. "Your father, my father, Tsepov—they're responsible. They did this. Not you, Summer. Never you."
"I should have known," she said, wiping at her eyes.
"He's your dad, and you wanted to see the good in him. No one gets that more than me."
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"I'm not." Summer looked at me in surprise. "I'm not," I insisted. "You're loyal. You look for the best in the people you love. That's who you are, Summer. I love you. All of you."
"Even when I almost get you shot?"
"Even then. I've loved you since the beginning. I think I've loved you since the day we met. I found you at that conference, told you that you were coming with me and you just stared me down and said I don't think so in that snotty tone."
"I was not snotty," she protested, laughing through the last of her tears. "You were a total stranger."
"You came with me anyway," I teased.
"You were persuasive."
"I was a goner. By the time I got you back to Atlanta, I was hooked. You scared the fucking hell out of me."
"I must have," she said, "because you ran away like a little boy."
I cupped her face in my palms, studying every inch of it, absorbing her eyes, her spiky lashes wet with tears, her full, pink lower lip. Every part of her was a treasure.
"I did," I admitted. "I ran like a scared boy.
It took me way too long to realize that I'd never have what I wanted most if I couldn't stand up and be a man.
I wasn't afraid of you, Summer, I was afraid of me.
Of not being good enough. Of fucking everything up.
Of hurting you. Then you threw me out, and I knew there was only one thing I was really afraid of. Losing you."
"You stayed away," she said. "I thought you'd come back, but you never—"
"I was working on a plan to win you back."
Summer looked over her shoulder at Rycroft Castle, rising above us, it's turrets and white limestone walls belonging in a different century. "Kind of an elaborate plan. You could have just sent flowers."
"Like that was going to work. You would have shoved them in the disposal and sent me back the stems."
Summer's lips quirked in a grin. "Probably. Still, this was overkill."
"This was just good luck." I thought about our fathers and everything they'd done. "Maybe not good luck. A silver lining?"
"Whatever it was, I'm glad it brought you back to me."
"I was always coming back for you, Summer. I love you."
"I love you, too." Going up on her toes, she kissed me, sliding her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, teasing her lips across mine.
When she pulled away, she said, "Are you done with the FBI? Can we go inside so I can take off that suit and make sure you're not injured?"
"I told you, I'm fine."
Summer raised an eyebrow and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt.
"I know, but I want to make absolutely sure. I'm going to need to examine every inch of you."
"Oh, well, in that case, you never know, I might have an injury or two. You'd better check me out. Thoroughly."
Summer stepped back and took my hand, leading me up the stairs into Rycroft Castle. Winking at me over her shoulder, she said, "Oh, I plan to examine you very thoroughly. For a long, long time."