Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Vander watched the man in the boar mask approach. He had a rifle in his hands, but as he neared the broken potted plant, he shifted the rifle to one hand and crouched down.
Bad mistake, asshole.
Moving fast, Vander silently moved forward and slipped the cable over the man’s head. Then he pulled back.
Boar dropped his gun, then scrambled to grab the cord, scratching at his neck. Vander held on tight, pulling him down to the floor. The guy fought, but Vander just tightened his grip. The man’s feet hammered, but he couldn’t get a sound out.
Dispassionately, Vander watched and waited until the man lost consciousness. Then he dragged the man into an office, propped him in one corner, and hog-tied him with the cord, hands and feet out of action. He opened some drawers and found some duct tape. He taped the man’s mouth closed.
Then Vander rose.
One down.
Nine to go.
He’d slipped out of the office, closed the door, then scooped up Boar’s gun. That’s when he heard approaching footsteps.
“Brady? Brady, where are you?”
Vander slid into a dark office doorway and waited. He couldn’t risk using the gun and alerting the other thieves. He rested the rifle against the wall.
A man walked down the hall, peering into doorways.
“Now isn’t the time to goof off, Brady.”
The man passed the doorway.
Vander sprung. He landed several chops into the man’s lower back. The guy dropped his rifle and grunted. He turned, his fox mask askew. Vander slammed two punches into his face, then dragged him to the floor.
In a burst of movement, the guy broke free. His elbow clipped Vander’s jaw, knocking him back. He swung another punch, but Vander dodged.
“You’re going down, asshole,” Fox clipped out.
Vander didn’t bother replying.
The guy yanked out a knife and brandished it. He swiped out with it, and Vander leaped backward.
Fox swiped again, the knife slicing into Vander’s jacket. Dammit, Brynn would be pissed about that. Fox came at Vander in a flurry of slashes, slicing more cuts into Vander’s jacket.
Enough. Vander slipped his jacket off and held it in his hands. When Fox came at him again, he whipped the jacket over the knife and twisted.
Fox cursed. Vander rammed him into the wall, and aimed a knee into his gut.
The man let out a pained oof and doubled over. Vander pulled his jacket back and the knife hit the carpet. Then he wrapped the jacket around the man’s neck and yanked it tight.
Fox’s eyes bulged and he tried to pull the jacket free. Vander’s cellphone fell out of a pocket and hit the ground. He ignored it, and kicked Fox’s knees out from under him and yanked harder, cutting off his air.
The guy was fit and strong, and Vander had to give him credit—he fought. His body jerked hard and there was a crunch of plastic. His hand slapped the ground and he managed to grab the dropped knife. He whipped it up.
Vander blocked the blow, feeling a quick sting on his forearm, then shoved the man’s arm down.
The knife stabbed through Vander’s jacket and into the man’s neck.
Fox’s body stiffened. Blood soaked the jacket and down Fox’s shirt. Vander’s mouth flattened as he held tight, waiting until the man slumped.
He released him and the man’s lax body dropped to the floor.
Plastic on the floor glinted in the dim light. His cellphone…crushed to pieces. Dammit.
He dragged the guy into a nearby supply closet and stashed his body beside a vacuum cleaner and some mops.
Two down.
Eight to go.
He glanced at his ruined jacket. It was sliced to hell and soaked in blood. Dammit. It was better for blending into the shadows than his white shirt.
Nothing he could do about that.
He checked his watch. He hoped to hell that Saxon and the team got here soon. He needed to touch base with them again.
He had to find a phone to use.
He snatched up Fox’s rifle and checked it over.
Slinging it over his shoulder, he strode down the hallway, pulling his bow tie off.
He rolled his sleeves up, noting the small cut on his forearm.
It wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding. He shrugged.
It wouldn’t kill him. In the closest office, he grabbed the phone on the desk.
There was no dial tone. He stabbed at the buttons. Nothing.
He tried the next office, and the next, but the same thing.
Wolf and his men must have cut the line to the floor.
He needed to try the next floor. He passed the elevators. The lights on the panels were blank, so Wolf hadn’t been lying about the elevators. Vander found the door to the stairs. Emergency lights were on, illuminating the stairwell with an eerie green glow. He jogged up to the next level.
If this worked out, he might be able to neutralize all the intruders without any hostage casualties.
Then get his wife out of here.
When he’d first met Brynn, he’d felt the attraction.
For years, he’d kept his interactions with women brief.
He hadn’t met anyone who’d tempted him to want more, to let anyone into his personal space.
And he knew himself well. Even his mother had said he was an intense child who’d turned into an intense man.
There wasn’t a single moment when he wasn’t assessing the situation and his surroundings, noting every single person in the room.
He was always looking for a threat, and determining the best way to take it down.
The truth was, he knew that for a man like him, falling in love, having someone become his world, was a risk.
Because there wasn’t one single thing he wouldn’t do to keep his wife safe.
He’d fight. He’d kill. He’d annihilate.
Vander blew out a breath.
Wolf and his band of thieves didn’t know what they were dealing with.
Right now, he needed to focus on taking out the bad guys until his team got here.
He pushed open the door.
The next level was a construction zone. Plastic sheets hung from the ceiling, and power tools and building supplies littered the space. The place smelled like fresh paint.
He checked several offices, but they were all devoid of furniture.
Shit. He looked around and spied a phone on the wall near the elevators. He grabbed it and heard a dial tone.
He dialed Saxon’s number. “Vander?”
“It’s me.”
“I’ve been trying to contact you.”
“Phone got smashed.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Two bogeys down. Eight to go.”
“Nice work. We’re almost at the helo now. We won’t be far away.”
“These guys are after money. They’re trying to hack the Haldon system and make a hundred-million-dollar transfer.”
Saxon whistled. “Ballsy.”
“Yeah, well, when this is over, they’re going to regret it.”
“Okay, sit—”
A sound made Vander’s head jerk up.
“Brady?” a voice called out. “Johnny? Where are you guys?”
Someone was coming.
“I’ve got to go,” he whispered before he hung up the phone.
He slipped into the nearest room, but the glass wall and lack of furniture didn’t offer much in the way of cover. He realized it was a kitchen. The far wall had a long counter and sink with some tools scattered on it. It looked like they were still working in here. He pressed his back to the wall.
A radio crackled. “You found them yet?”
“Not yet. There was a smashed plant by the elevators, but no sign of the guys. They can’t have gone far.” The man stopped just outside the kitchen. “I’m up on the next level. It’s all construction.”
“I don’t like this,” the voice on the radio clipped. “Find their asses, and get back here.”
“They make the transfer yet?”
“Not yet.” The voice sounded pissed, and Vander guessed it was the man in charge.
“One hundred million dollars.” The guy outside the kitchen laughed. “We’re going to be fucking rich.”
“Focus.” The voice was sharp and ice-cold.
“Yeah, right. I know.” The guy clicked the radio off and made a low sound. “He can be a damn bossy asshole sometimes.”
Vander spotted a hammer sitting on the countertop. He reached out and knocked it off. It hit the tiled floor with a clatter.
“What the—?”
The man moved inside, rifle aimed, moving cautiously. He was more shadow than anything, but there was enough ambient light coming through the window to see his dog mask.
Vander kicked him. The gun went flying, and the man cursed.
But he recovered quickly. He spun and slammed into Vander. The scuffle was hard and fast. They rammed into the wall, spun, and hit the counter. Something else crashed to the floor. Vander rammed an elbow into the guy’s gut, whirled, and landed a kick.
Dog landed on the floor with a vile curse. Vander closed the distance in two short strides, then landed several hard punches.
“Motherfucker!” Dog spat, blood dripping down his chin, trying to scuttle backward.
“I’m not the one keeping innocent people hostage and stealing.”
Dog leaped up and lunged toward the counter. He grabbed a utility knife and brandished it.
Vander cocked his head. “You know how to use that?”
“Stabbing and cutting isn’t rocket science.”
Vander pulled the kitchen knife from his pocket. He watched Dog’s eyes widen. “Let’s put that to the test.”
Dog attacked. Vander landed a chop to his arm, then swung in low to stab his knife into the man’s side. Not deeply, just enough for him to feel the prick.
With a curse, the man leaped back. “Who are you?”
“A man you shouldn’t have messed with.”
Dog charged again.
Vander dodged to the side, gripped the man’s wrist, and squeezed, then sliced his knife down the man’s T-shirt, slicing it open. He kept squeezing until Dog cried out and dropped the utility knife.
Vander gripped the back of the man’s shirt and hauled him forward.
“Fuck you.” He took a swing. “There are more of us. You can’t stop us.”
“That’s what you think.” Vander whirled and slammed the guy into the counter. He dragged him sideways until his head was in the sink. He yanked the dog mask off and saw a good-looking guy, maybe mid-twenties. Vander flicked on the faucet.
“Fuck.” His mouth filled with water, and he tried to fight free. Vander held him pinned there, water cascading over his face.