Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever) (22 page)

Juraz took a deep breath and stumbled away from her. “Tomorrow night, you begin training as my sub. You’ll be placed in a grope box in the greeting hall. Those who have the money to feel you up and down will enjoy a salacious experience.”

He tucked his gun in his belt and said, “Then you’ll spend the night with me. I’ll introduce you to a world of pain before I ever allow you one smidgen of pleasure.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brantley wasn’t sure about the protocol he was expected to follow when the shadows came out of hiding, but he imagined now that their covers were blown, they would no longer
shadow
any of them. They would either move to another division or fight beside them as fellow operatives.

Considering how much protection they’d offered them in the past, Brantley was beginning to see their absences would be missed. Even though they could enter the lifestyle resort with the rest of them, they were no longer considered
dark
. They’d march through the club gates like the rest of them and assume their positions among the team.

One thing about it, Kit and Judson didn’t respect him as a leader, and he understood why. So far, he’d failed to fill Conrad’s big shoes.

Still, he was determined to succeed. He was committed to his division and wanted his operatives to respect him as the man in charge.

“Fowler and Casey are inside,” Brantley announced, joining the others.

“What?” Ace asked, his voice pitched high enough to rattle the windows.

“Fowler saw Juraz’s men take her and called for backup. The only one with an earpiece was Casey, and he met him at the resort about an hour ago.”

“That’s marvelous, Brantley,” Kit said. “Fucking fantastic, really. Can you tell me when, if ever, Conrad allowed this team out in the field without the proper equipment?”

“Adjustments have been made,” Brantley assured him. “Improvements will begin immediately.”

“And in the meantime, Abby spends the night with Juraz, and we’re forced to rely upon Casey and Fowler to pull her out of there?” Kit asked.

“Remember who you’re talking to,” Judson said. “We’ve covered their asses more times than they’ve ever saved one of their own.”

Ace set his jaw, but he didn’t argue. Brantley had a feeling what they were saying was true, too. The documented facts spoke louder than words.

Brantley’s phone rang and he answered on speakerphone. “We’re all here. What’d you have?”

Fowler sounded like he was in a tunnel. “Abby is spending the night in a long, narrow box with a bunch of hand-size holes on either side. From what we’ve overheard, she’ll be on display tomorrow in the main welcome area. She’s required to sleep there tonight. Juraz’s men have orders not to touch her, but there’s a lot of traffic down here.”

“He has her in a grope box,” Judson explained. “She won’t be able to see who touches her. The way the box is designed there would likely be a tall wooden barrier between her neck and the rest of her body.”

“Exactly,” Fowler said. “And Ace, are you there?”

“Yeah, Fowler.”

“I need your help on this. Man, she’s scared. She’s real fucking scared.”

Kit’s lips twitched. “Abby isn’t frightened of Juraz’s men. She has a phobia. She can’t stand tight spaces. Watch for an opportunity and get her out of there.”

“She’s well guarded,” Fowler informed them.

“Shit,” Judson mumbled.

“Casey and I can take out the men between us and her, but by the time we reach the box, there could be another two dozen men pursuing her. We need backup now.”

“It’s on the way. Stand by and down until we arrive there,” Brantley said, disconnecting the call.

“What’s the plan?” Ace asked.

Brantley crossed his right arm over his stomach and supported his left elbow. He considered their options for a minute and then said, “Kit and Judson, you’ll take the outside like you always do. We don’t have time to switch positions and consult one another on details. You’re accustomed to working alone, so go do what you do.”

Kit nodded. Judson looked pleased. They left the room.

“Ace and Porter, gear up. Let’s move. We can’t waste a minute. We’ll travel by water. By the time Juraz’s men figure out that we’re on Juraz’s land, it’ll be too late.”

* * * *

“Juraz!” Abby screamed. “Damn it, Juraz! I need to talk to you! I have a proposition for you. Do you hear me?”

Abby strained to see movement. She couldn’t spot anyone when she looked to her right or left. Holding her head up, she stared at the plywood before her. She wiggled her fingers and her toes.

She would go crazy if she had to lie there all night.

“Juraz!”

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She bent an ear.

“Hello?” she called out. “I can hear you over there! Do you work for Juraz?”

A second set of footsteps alerted her to movement on the other side of the box. Soon, two men stood over her. She recognized both of them.

“Bitch,” the one to her left said. “We will gag you if we have to. You’re the reason one of Juraz’s best men was shot today. If you think we’d do anything to help you, think again.”

Abby narrowed her gaze on the other man, the one standing close enough for her to smell the musty stench of booze and sweat. Apparently, when Juraz went to bed, his men celebrated the occasion.

She couldn’t blame them. They ought to live it up. They were lucky to be living at all, given Juraz’s disciplinary procedures.

“If you think what Juraz did to your friend was bad, wait until my buddies show up. They won’t take a clean shot to the head. They’ll make you suffer for what you’re doing to me!”

“Where are these people?” the grizzly one on the left said. He turned around in a perfect spin, his arms out to his sides and his palms turned upward. “A tramp like you doesn’t have friends, at least not those who are among the living, bit—”

Two silenced shots were fired. One hit him in the heart. The other struck right between his eyes. Grizzly fell to the ground while the other guy ducked next to the box, screaming out something in Spanish.

Abby released a ragged breath. “Now do you believe me?”

The guy continued to spout profanity using his native tongue. When no one came, he yelled, “Enemy is here! We need help at the box!”

Heavy boots marched toward them. Abby smiled to herself. She knew that walk. She recognized that strut.

Three seconds later, Ace stood over the man crouched next to her. “Abby wasn’t impressed with your grand opening. I’m not either.”

Three shots were fired, and Ace acted as if he hadn’t even pulled the trigger. He peered over the box. “Sorry to keep you waiting, love.”

She felt a grin tilt her lips. “You’re here now. Good timing, too. Asshole over there gave me too much to think about.”

Ace winked. “Surely you didn’t think I’d leave this earth without a proper good-bye kiss.” He leaned over and gave her a peck.

“Get me out of this damn box, Ace,” she whispered across his lips.

“They’re working on it.”

About that time, the lid lifted. Abby had never been so glad to see Casey and Porter.

“My clothes are in there,” she said, pointing to a row of lockers. “Some perv stripped me before he placed me in that coffin.”

Casey sniffed. His gaze traveled up and down her legs, and then he finally just stared straight at her breasts. “I think you should run around killing bad guys like that.”

“None of us would be able to concentrate,” Porter said, retrieving the pink nightdress she’d previously worn.

Ace’s eyes were fixated on the door behind her as she rapidly slipped the gown over her head. A couple of times, he licked his upper lip and moaned. “When this is over, I’m spanking your ass.”

“Promises, promises,” she purred, grabbing a semiautomatic from the back of Porter’s belt. Ace tossed her another weapon as they inched toward the door. Dressed in solid black, he looked dangerous, mean, and one hundred percent hardcore operative.

Fowler rushed them. “We’ve got company. Come on. There’s a back exit. We’re taking our position in the gymnasium. It’s the closest building to Juraz’s personal quarters.

They remained in a single-file line as they left the lodge. Brantley met them outside, quickly handing off more weapons, gun clips, and listening devices. “Are you all right?” he asked, caressing her arm in passing.

“Not yet, but I will be once I find Juraz.”

“He’s not your mark, Abby,” Brantley said. “Kit and Judson will take care of him.”

“Like hell,” she said, sprinting past them. Oh no, she hadn’t come this far to let them stop her now. This was her kill. She wanted to look Juraz in the eye and tell him why she’d pursued him, let him know why she would be the one to take his sorry life. She had to do this for Conrad, for the brothers and sisters who would never have the opportunity to live their lives.

“Damn it! Abby!”

Brantley, Ace, Casey, Porter, and Fowler followed behind her. She could hear them rushing through trees and bushes as they separated. Their ragged breaths came through her earpiece as they tried to catch her.

She clutched her semiautomatic. Her finger was on the trigger. Images of her father and stepmother rolled through her head. She saw the dead bodies of her siblings, the little children who would never know they were her brothers and sisters.

“Oh God!” she screamed out in agony, doubling over in the middle of a clearing at the top of the hill. “Why! Why!”

“Abby, come in!” Brantley said. “What’s your location?”

“Abby! Talk to me!” Ace screamed. “Where are you?”

With her hands on her knees and the gun dangling from her fingertips, she finally pulled herself together as the panic strummed through her eardrums. She forced herself to find the inner strength and thought of the final conversation she had with her father. “Be strong when everyone around you remains weak, push forward when everyone else lags behind, and fight for your cause with passion, courage, faith, and strength.”

As if her father took her hand and led her forward, she jerked all of a sudden. Her back straightened, and her eyes were focused.

Abby knew where to find Juraz. She acknowledged how this would all end. She realized what she’d lost. She understood there was only one way to move on in life.

She needed to finish this. Her father would expect her to avenge his death.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Kit, come in.” Brantley’s voice was clear as a bell. The shadows had advanced earpiece technology so they could distinguish between a call between the team and one specifically meant for only Kit and Judson.

“We’ve got her,” Kit assured him, walking up the embankment leading from the lake to Juraz’s private quarters.

“Where is she?”

“She’s on the back patio at Juraz’s place. We can’t get him before she does.”

“Damn it! Try!” Brantley screamed.

“Stand down, Brantley,” Judson said, which would likely taunt their superior.

“Get in there. Do it. Take him out before she has a shot. She’ll talk her way right into a corner. He’ll ambush her.”

Kit sprinted uphill. Judson pressed ahead. They were moving as fast as they could go with their sniper rifles in hand.

Kit’s heart raced. He saw her slip inside the patio doors. The blue light from a television screen was visible when she disappeared behind the sheer curtains.

“She’s in,” he informed the others. “Get the boys and come around back. Have someone covering the front. Once we’re in there, we could find ourselves barricaded and surrounded.”

“Go! Go! Go!” Brantley screamed. “We’re three minutes away.”

Kit feared they were too late, and he understood why Brantley didn’t want Abby taking that detrimental shot. She may have thought killing Juraz would take away the pain and anguish she felt when she lost her father, but the fact was, it would only dull the ache for a minute. Then she’d have to face the truth—killing the enemy would never bring back the family she lost, and that was hard to accept by those left behind with numerous regrets.

* * * *

“Abby.” Juraz’s menacing voice came from behind her as soon as she tiptoed inside his lakefront home, a one-level contemporary built out of the same siding used on the rugged waterside huts. Abby knew before she faced him—Juraz was holding a gun.

Slowly, she turned around, determined to look the man in the eye. To her surprise, not only did he grip a cocked gun in his left hand, he held up a glossy photograph of her family in his right.

“Drop your weapon,” he said firmly. “Mine is cocked. Mine is loaded. You don’t have a prayer and you know it.”

She felt her upper cheek flinch. He was right. She couldn’t do anything to save herself. The only thing she could do was play along, buy some time. And that killed her.

She’d made a detrimental error, one that could cause her demise. The guys had been right. She was too close to the situation. She couldn’t think like an operative when revenge was all that mattered.