Unbreakable

Chapter Fourteen

Jem had sent Key an it’s all good message before he boarded the flight out of New Orleans. As usual, Key wouldn’t believe him and would get pissed, and that was the way Jem knew that things were fine between him and his brother.

Key’d had a tough time coming back to the bayou. Seeing their parents’ house had been more cathartic than either of them could’ve thought. Saying good-bye to their respective careers and delving into the shadowed world of black ops, and so far reporting to no one, was something both he and Key had been trained for. More than that, they wanted it.

Key was on a much-needed vacation and Jem was glad Avery had pushed the issue. Disturbing him was something Jem was unwilling to do.

He was several months–plus out of the last mental institution the CIA had sent him to in order to distance themselves from yet another situation Jem had created due to his overzealous, uncontrolled nature.

At least that’s what he’d read when he’d broken into the shrink’s files.

Jem had been labeled everything from manic to schizo, and the latter was only because he’d told one doc he’d heard the voice of God telling him to jump from roof to roof on two city buildings and then drop twenty feet.

“I caught the guy I was chasing and I didn’t get hurt,” had been his defense. Granted, he’d also been operating inside the U.S., where he wasn’t allowed to—“not legally if you want to get technical,” he’d continued, and yeah, they’d wanted to get technical.

The shrink had simply shaken her head and written shit on her legal pad. And so it went.

And when the plane finally touched down, ending his trip down psycho memory lane, he was fucking grateful. They’d landed on time and he grabbed his go bag from under the seat in front of him and headed to the front of the plane before other people got out of their seats.

The flight attendant who’d slipped him her number earlier didn’t say a word, just smiled and wagged her finger at him. Once into the main terminal, he ambled along in order to make sure he was alone. He didn’t have any weapons on him except the ceramic knife in his boot, a pen and his own hands, which were more than enough.

He hadn’t noticed anyone tailing him in New Orleans and there was nothing suspicious on the plane. He pulled out his phone, slid by the what the fuck is up with you? message from Key and had just gone to check in with Gunner instead when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Someone was on his tail. He’d bet his life on it.

He pretended to make a call while slipping the SIM card out of his phone, just in case he was captured. He was going to find out who this asshole was, one way or the other.

He pushed out the door and walked through the crowds gathering with their luggage, waiting for taxis. He crossed the street, broke from the crowds and headed to the farthest long-term parking lot there was.

“I’ll meet you by the car,” he said into the phone, loud enough for his tail to pick up on.

He heard one set of footsteps behind him, then two. And there was a female coming toward him, checking her phone. Clueless.

Or maybe just playing at it, because something was off with this one. She was exuding confidence, but it wasn’t working for Jem. He prided himself on reading people—less of a gut instinct and more of a spiritual thing. When he started talking about auras, most guys in the CIA rolled their eyes at him, but hell, he’d gotten most of their asses out of scrapes that way.

He’d lost partners because he tended to take things too far, had little disregard for his own life, although he’d never let any of them take the risks he did.

Guess you understand Gunner a lot better than most.

To test his theory he grabbed the tall blonde in the short skirt around the waist as she went by him. Suspended in the air against his side, she yelped and hit him.

And then pulled a gun out and aimed it at his forehead.

When he laughed, it threw her. The fucking crazy always did. He grabbed her wrist and repointed the gun as she struggled to regain control, aimed and shot the two men coming up fast behind him. And kept shooting until he’d emptied the clip. Thankfully, she’d thought ahead and used a silencer, but even so, shit echoed in this underground part of the garage.

“How’s that for a one-two punch, sweetheart?” he asked before slamming her wrist against the nearest concrete barrier, breaking the bone and forcing her to drop the gun. No reason to give her any chance of reloading.

She elbowed him in the throat.

“Son of a bitch.” He dropped her down, grabbed her in a headlock, because if she wanted to be equal opportunity, he would treat her like an equal. “Doll-face, you gonna tell me who sent you to kill me?”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that a no? Because I can be really fucking persuasive.” He dragged her toward a supply closet. “We’re gonna have us a strip search, just in case.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t get modest. Besides, I like my women willing. This is all on the up-and-up.”

In the closet, his hand slid up her shirt, into the front of her blouse, and bingo, he found her phone. “It’s a good spot for it.”

He checked the last several numbers. “Any of these Landon?”

“Please. I have a kid.”

“This isn’t a great job for parenting.”

“He made me.”

Jem noted the track-marked scars on her arms. She was painfully thin too, and this close up, she looked worn and pale, and older than she probably was. “Who’s he?”

“He didn’t tell me. Said you’d know.”

“What’s he got on you?”

She eyed him warily. “Enough.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

She pointed to her thigh, said hoarsely, “You’re supposed to die.”

He yanked her skirt up, saw the bomb taped securely to her thigh. She and the men were all part of a fucking distraction and he’d fallen for it. There were ten seconds left.

“Your kid—”

“Better off without me. Go.” She shoved him away and he ran, slammed the door behind him, hit the dirt behind cars as the explosion blew the closet open.

He’d done a lot of things in his life and had pretty much zero regrets at the time, because how could you regret shit that at the time you ultimately wanted?

Had the woman been innocent? No. Was her kid better off without her? Probably. But Jem would be damned if he’d let himself get played like that.

He went for the first car with the door open and hot-wired it, because no one was going to notice a stolen vehicle in this fucking mess. But they would notice a man who looked like he’d been through the explosion.

He dialed as he drove, one hand on the wheel, away from the incoming sirens. “Gunner, fuck—”

“Landon has Avery.”

“Fuck. He just tried to kill me. I’m on my way, but brother, I think your place was made a long time ago.”

* * *

Gunner went to the store to grab some fresh food like he’d promised, leaving Avery home to relax in the steam shower. She got restless after ten minutes, although her muscles felt like butter. She wrapped herself in a big flannel shirt of Gunner’s, not bothering with anything else.

It was beautiful here. For a little while, she was content to forget what was out there waiting for them. She just wanted to be. Since her mom had been killed, it had been a whirlwind. And she’d found a lot more good than