Chapter 21
Twenty-One
brENDAN
B rendan drove the Hummer up onto the outer patio of Jed Marshall’s stucco mansion, facing an impressive span of multi-paned windows. Marshal stood tall, crossing his arms. A full spread of guys with guns fanned out behind him. Brendan gulped, thinking he might lose the ham and Swiss sandwich he’d eaten for lunch, but he swallowed down his fear. Genevieve was worth risking his life. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again.
The rush of adrenaline from driving a bulletproofed-like tank across the desert was over, replaced by a much more pressing rush—staying alive. He shoved the Glock that Quill had grabbed from the back of the Hummer deeper into his suit pants pocket and reached for the door handle.
Quill gawked at him. “What are you doing?”
“Marshal’s not going to kill me. Not yet, anyway.”
“What do you mean he’s not going to kill you? He’ll blow your brains out the second you open that door.”
“No, he won’t. Look at the smug look on his face. He wants to prove something first. Me going in there is the only way. If I don’t act now, he’ll move Genevieve before backup arrives. You stay in the Hummer and be ready to be our getaway driver.”
Quill grabbed his forearm, fiercely shaking his head. “You’ve lost it, bro. There’s no way Marshal isn’t going to take you out the first chance he gets. The man’s not patient or stupid. We’ve studied his movements. You know this. Let’s stay in the Hummer, distract him, and wait for Manning to act like we talked about.”
Brendan contemplated Marshal’s egotistical expression through the bulletproofed windshield. “This isn’t business for him. It’s personal. He wants to make me pay for challenging him, and trust me, he’ll want to do it in front of Genevieve. My death is meant to send a clear message to her. It’s my only shot to get close and save the woman I love.” He glanced at his best friend’s anguished face and sighed. “Look, Quill, I don’t know if I’m going to live through this, but if I don’t act now, he’s going to lay his hands on her. I can’t let that happen. I have to protect my partner. I have no doubt every move she’s making is to protect me in return.”
“Why did you have to choose a woman whose ex is the craziest bastard in the whole of the Western US?”
Brendan let out a strained chuckle. “I guess it takes a woman with some serious gumption to be it for me. What can I say?”
Quill quirked his lips. “Okay, bro, go save her. Bring her home with you so she can make my life miserable. Till I get married . I still can’t believe I agreed to that.”
“You know I appreciate our friendship, right?”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to hear you talk like that. You’re jumping in this getaway vehicle alive, and you’re bringing that fiery pain-in-the-neck woman with you.”
“You bet your ass I am.” Brendan pointed at the key fob in one of the Hummer’s front storage cubbies, reminding Quill where he’d put it .
Quill gave a short nod.
Before he could change his mind, Brendan swung open the sturdy driver’s side door, dropped his feet onto the solid concrete of the crescent-shaped terrace, and slammed the door behind him. After a long enough pause for Quill to climb into the driver’s seat, he listened to the Hummer back away. There was no turning back now.
“King,” Marshal clipped out.
“Marshal.” Brendan slowly strolled up to him, ignoring his impressive contingent of guards. “So how would you like to do this? Have a couple of beers first and bro it out?”
Marshal smirked. “I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to come here alone. Couldn’t wait for backup, huh? What, were you afraid I’d fuck her before you could come to her valiant rescue?”
“Something like that.” Brendan tilted his head, adjusting his glasses. “What’s your plan when the FBI gets here? You know I’ve got artillery coming, and you’re not making a break for the border?”
“I’ve got the local police in the palm of my hand. You think you can bring the Feds out here, and it will all be over? Based on what? Your word versus mine. You’ve got nothing—nothing that connects directly back to me anyway. The Feds can’t search my property without a warrant. Even if you somehow convinced them my fiancée was kidnapped to get one, she won’t be anywhere near here when the sirens come blazing. I’ve got a dozen ways I can whisk her away.”
Brendan shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay, let’s say you get away with kidnapping Genevieve. It’s going to be mighty suspicious when I go missing. What then?”
“I’m willing to take that risk. No body, no case. You shouldn’t have offered yourself up as bait. Once I get rid of you, all obstacles are clear. Manning Cole will back off so that he doesn’t get burned, and I’ll remain the law. ”
Brendan rocked back on his heels, shooting Marshal a goading grin. “All obstacles, huh? It’s a pretty big obstacle to have your fiancée in love with another man, isn’t it? Better solder on the next ring. Last one I saw flew twenty stories over a rail.”
The vein in the side of Marshal’s neck bulged. “You wimpy little office prick. I’m going to enjoy snapping you in half in front of her.”
Brendan split his grin even wider. “You really think she’ll get over me just because I’m dead?”
“Money and power talk, King. You’re the PG version, and I’m sure she thought twisting you around her finger was a fun distraction, but Genevieve’s all fire. She’d have gotten bored with you in a month.”
“I was worried about that too, but then I discovered her fire brings out mine.”
A cavalier snicker trickled out of Marshal. “Well, lover boy, it’s clear you can’t handle it then since her fire is about to be the death of you.” He motioned his hand toward a set of French patio doors. “Let’s go visit my girl, shall we? I’ll enjoy seeing the look on her face while she watches you burn.”
Brendan’s skin broke out in a cold sweat, his pulse quickening to a sprint. Am I about to die? He puffed out a breath. Stop that, Brendan. You’ve got this. If you believe you’re going to die, you will.
“Search him, Roman.”
The man with the green dragon tattoo climbing up the side of his neck who had unsuccessfully lunged for him after he’d thrown the first flash grenade in The Outlaw patted him down none too gently.
“I remember you.” Brendan shot him a sly smirk. “Strong but not so fast, aren’t you?”
Roman pulled the Glock out of Brendan’s pocket and whacked him on the back of the head with it. A searing pain erupted in his scalp and rippled down his neck.
“Probably better, office freak, if you don’t goad a stronger man. Try moving past me now with that splitting headache.” Roman gripped his shoulder and shoved him forward. “He’s clean now, boss. A gun, nothing else.”
Marshal snorted out a laugh. “A gun he’s probably got no clue how to use. Ever kill someone before, King?”
Brendan clenched his teeth, pushing the pulsating pain out of his mind. “Not yet, Marshal. Not really my style, but for you, I might make an exception.”
“Sadly for you, I think the vultures are going to dig you out of the sand instead. You should have stuck with the court case, though I’d have killed you anyway.” Marshal shrugged. “But at least you wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
Marshal’s men opened the French doors like the man was royalty, and Marshal waltzed inside. If Brendan’s life wasn’t on the line, he would have found the charade comical. Roman gripped him under his arm and tugged him roughly behind. A blast of air conditioning hit him before he quickly scanned the expansive room, looking for one person and one person only.
Genevieve! She stood near an interior corner of the room in her blue blouse and jeans, looking tussled, exhausted, and absolutely beautiful. Her gaze connected with his, and relief flitted across her face, followed by unfiltered fear. She quickly tore her eyes away from him, glanced at Marshal, and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, nibbling like she wished a plan would materialize in her brain.
“Is there a problem, dove? You look worried.”
The bastard was really going to make her pretend like she didn’t care about him? Good luck! Her eyes said it all when she looked at him—he’d been right about that. Marshal grinned as if he were enjoying the game, but Brendan suspected deep-rooted jealousy was the driving force behind his provocation.
Time to focus. Brendan took in a calibrating breath and analyzed the other players in the room. Two guards stood within easy reach of him while Archer and a built-looking man covered in fantasy tattoos stood on either side of Genevieve. Marshal had Roman and Luke flanking him, and the rest of his entourage was scattered about the room. Naturally, Marshal was a heck of a lot closer to him than Genevieve, which didn’t help him with his only plan—grab Genevieve, duck, and run for cover.
Genevieve swallowed hard. “No, Jed. There’s no problem.” Her eyes flashed down to Brendan’s waist.
Don’t worry, Gen. I know our chances aren’t good, but I won’t go down without a fight.
“If you’re hoping he’s got a belt load of flash grenades again, dove, you can lose hope. Roman searched him, and he’s clean. What you see is what you get. A man who’s so desperate that he didn’t come up with a solid plan before he stepped onto my turf.”
Her mouth slowly dropped open before she fumed out a breath. “Are you out of your mind, Bren—Mr. King? What were you thinking coming here?”
“That I love you, and it’s worth my life to do everything I can to protect you.”
Genevieve’s face transformed, beaming with heartfelt emotion before she quickly masked it.
“So touching.” Marshal snorted. “Sounds like some desperate last words.” He glanced at Luke. “Go check to make sure we don’t have more company coming. I don’t want to mess around if we need to get out of here.”
Luke nodded, bulging out his double chin, and stalked off.
Genevieve mouthed, “Me too,” while Marshal’s head was turned. Even seeing her love for him shine in her eyes, Brendan’ s stomach tangled in pleasureful knots at her verbal confirmation.
“Boss,” Archer called out in a wheezy tone, “Gen just now said, ‘Me too,’ to Mr. King, just so you know.”
Boss? Brendan scoffed. That confirmed Archer was, in fact, a sniveling backstabber who worked for Marshal. No wonder Genevieve struggled to rely on people—her Reno network had been comprised of selfish manipulators. Archer’s nose appeared to be broken, and Brendan hoped to heck Genevieve was the one who’d delivered the blow.
“Snake,” she hissed at Archer and sashayed toward Marshal.
That’s it, Gen. Get closer to me. As close as you can get. She walked no more than six feet in front of him, exuding the beautiful scent of roses mixed with spring—if he could just reach out and grab her.
Marshal’s eyes narrowed with harsh skepticism evident all over his face.
Genevieve attempted to soothe him with a look. “Jed, please just let him go. Dump him back in town. If you kill him, the Feds are going to?—”
“ Enough . I warned you not to forget where your loyalty lies.” Marshal yanked what looked like a semi-automatic pistol out of his pocket and pulled the hammer back, loading the chamber. “I meant to do this more slowly, but I think it’s best if we just end your pathetic longing for lover boy. It’s time you put your focus into your life with me. Enough messing around.” Marshal raised the gun and pointed it at Brendan’s chest.
Brendan’s heart stopped cold, his limbs freezing. Wake up, or you’re going to die, dummy. He blinked, trying to spur his brain into action.
In a breathless rush, Genevieve fired out, “Wait, Jed,” while hooking her hands under his arm. “ I want to kill him. ”
Marshal arched a dubious brow and cupped her cheek with his free hand. “How stupid do you think I am, dove?”
“You want me to watch him die, right? As a punishment? For some sick fulfillment? Honestly, I don’t even know what you want to get out of this, but I figure if Mr. King has to die, then I might as well be the one to do it. It will prove my loyalty to you, and we both get something more meaningful out of it then.”
Brendan’s eyes widened. Where was she going with this?
Marshal studied her expression before drawling out, “Why not? I don’t know what your angle is, but I’ll play.” He wrapped his arms securely around her and pecked kisses along her ear. “I told you, I’m no fool, dove—I’m not about to let you shoot me. I’ll hold your hands to the gun until he’s dead. Understood?”
She bobbed her head.
“Good. Let’s do this then.” Bracing his cheek against the top of her head, Marshal said, “You’re right. This will be more satisfying for me.” He lined her fingers up, securing his larger hands firmly over hers. “Go ahead, dove, pull the trigger. If you want to earn my trust back, this will certainly help.”
The calm expression on Genevieve’s face sent a biting chill down Brendan’s spine. “If I do this, Jed, I want my freedom back. After I marry you, of course. Agreed?”
Marshal nodded against her scalp. “I can agree to that with two additional terms—you will have a bodyguard accompany you, and you will spend your nights in my arms.”
Twisting her neck around, Genevieve smiled at Marshal like she’d won a prize deal. “Agreed.” She molded her mouth to his, kissing him with so much vigor it sent a dagger through Brendan’s heart. With one hand still on the pistol, she shimmied the other out of Marshal’s grasp, reached up, and gripped the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.
Please be a ploy. Brendan ripped his eyes away and shoved the disturbing image out of his mind. Of course it’s a ploy. She loves you. Focus.
Brendan glanced at the guards to his sides. The one to his left grinned and tightened his grip on his gun. The one to his right raised his brows but held no weapon as if he thought him to be harmless. Could he jump him and grab his gun? It was now or never. Brendan lurched back, ready to dive.
A loud grunt of pain erupted. “Fuck,” Marshal’s harsh voice boomed out.
Brendan whipped his head around. Marshal cradled his nose while Genevieve sprinted toward him, pistol in hand, raised and ready to shoot.
“Back up,” Genevieve shouted at the guards as she ran.
She smacked into Brendan’s chest, shoved him against the wall, and stood in front of him, rotating the gun around the room until Marshal’s men complied. An ironic feeling of contentment rushed through him, followed by a burst of adrenaline. Genevieve had just saved his life; now, could he save hers? And how many more times would they have to do so for one another in order to have a small inkling of a chance?
“Room exit ten paces to our left,” Genevieve whispered to him while aiming the pistol at Marshal’s chest.
Marshal grabbed Roman’s gun from him, but that was hardly the biggest problem—every guard in the room had their guns trained on them.
“They’ll shoot us before we get there,” Brendan whispered back, trying to shimmy in front of Genevieve.
“No, Brendan.” She swiped her arm out and pressed her back into him, locking him in place against the wall. “Don’t even think about it. They won’t kill me.”
In a venomous, whiny tone, Archer called out, “She broke my nose too, boss. We need to lock her up until she agrees never to?—”
Marshal fired a bullet, and Archer went down .
Genevieve gasped. “Oh my god, Archer.”
“Don’t worry. He’s not dead,” Brendan said as he watched Archer twist around, wailing in pain with blood gently seeping out of a notch in the side of his triceps. “Looks like Marshal just grazed him.”
Marshal trained a crazed look on Genevieve. “Should I aim for your bestie’s heart instead? If I put him in a grave in the desert beside lover boy, would that finally be a solid enough punishment for you to come around?” He leveled the gun with her heart and slowly drawled out, “Or perhaps I should just kill you , dove.”
Genevieve confidently belted out, “But then you’ll lose , babe. I thought you always won.”
“Killing you is winning. Lover boy doesn’t get you, either. In fact, maybe after I kill you, I’ll let him live. That would be quite poetic, wouldn’t it?”
“Go ahead. Pull the trigger.” Genevieve tossed what looked like a giant diamond ring at Marshal. It bounced off the cream-colored armchair and clinked tauntingly on the porcelain tile floor. She dropped her voice an octave. “I dare you, Marshal .”