only hours before Jem took her to the meeting place three towns over.
“I’m there. Just remember that while you’re with that bastard. I’m there. We all are,” Avery told her.
Now she watched Jem return, his face grim. He’d had to leave Drea alone in the house—it was too risky otherwise.
“She’s still alone,” Gunner told him. Jem nodded, his face expressionless as he sat down next to Gunner. Grace stood next to Avery behind them. Gunner had left a seat for her, but she didn’t want to distract him or Jem. This was too important. No matter how scared she might be, Landon was on the other end of a computer. Drea was the one dealing with him face-to-face.
“You’re sure he’ll come to the meeting?” Dare asked.
“He always takes the meetings. Always. It’s his MO,” Gunner said. “If he doesn’t, we know we’re made.”
And Drea had a contingency plan for that. All she had to do was hit a button and the entire house would fill with gas. It would knock her out along with Landon and his crew, but it wouldn’t be enough to hurt them. It would give Jem enough time to get back to her.
“Why the hell don’t we just gas and kill them?” Jem asked for the thousandth time, even though he knew the reason well: In case the part of Landon was really being played by two men instead of one.
No one answered Jem, but Key squeezed his brother’s shoulder.
And then the doorbell in Drea’s safe house rang. She went to it and answered the door, looking stylish, but nothing like the pictures they’d taken of her. If she was really a woman on the run, she wouldn’t be dressed to the nines and calling attention to herself.
But Avery knew that rich women always looked elegant, no matter what they were wearing. Drea fit that bill. They’d spent an hour covering up her tattoo sleeve with special makeup, but it was worth it for all of their peace of mind.
She held her breath when she heard Landon’s voice. Her fists clenched when he ordered his men to search the house, and told another one to hold her still for the photo. The man grabbed Drea’s arms and pulled them behind her back and Landon snapped a picture.
“We’re on,” Gunner muttered, and Jem started typing furiously. He inserted the corrected information into Drea’s federal profile, information that would only remain for sixty seconds.
It would hopefully be all they needed.
“He’s got his hit,” Jem said, his voice raw.
“You’re a wanted woman,” Landon said with an approving smile.
For once the feds had worked in their favor, and they all breathed a sigh of relief. Jem lit a cigarette as they watched Drea hand Landon the money he’d requested. Only then did Landon sit her down to go over the final plans with him about smuggling her out of the country.
She asked the right questions—where would he put her and why? How would she get new identification? How soon would he be able to get her husband out of custody?
In the good old days, before S8 started fucking with him, Landon would’ve had the power to do that. As of now, Gunner made sure he wouldn’t be able to deliver on that promise, but Landon had no way of knowing Drea knew too.
The idea was to get Landon working on a high-profile job that Drew could’ve pulled off in his sleep. Donal didn’t have a quarter of the experience or the finesse, and all his time would be put into this dream job. His attention would be divided and that’s when Gunner and S8 would strike at him on the island, on his turf.
Only then would Gunner know the truth about Drew. And everything was going fine until Landon said, “I hope you have a bag packed.”
“I do, but you said this would happen next week.”
“I said your move to your permanent new country of residence would happen next week. Today, you’ll fly out of here with me. Trust me, it’s much safer this way. I don’t like having federal agents circling my clients.”
Drea paused. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave.”
“You have to be. Cutting ties is the hardest part, and the most important. Best to make it like ripping off a Band-Aid. We go now,” Landon said, and Jem cursed under his breath.
“I have personal belongings that will get lost if I don’t collect them.”
“It’s either you come with us now and we leave in the morning or we don’t have a deal. I’m sure your life is more important than your belongings, no?”
“I know what’s important,” Drea said, and that was completely for their benefit. She stood, went into the bedroom and wheeled out the luggage she’d packed. One of Landon’s men took it, to search it, no doubt, and then without a final look back, Drea was gone.
There was dead silence in the room as Jem continued to stare at the empty screen. Drea had a choice and she made it, and goddamn her for risking her life.
“We go in now,” he said. No one argued. Not right away, anyway. After a few minutes had passed and Jem was able to make sure the tracking for Drea was working, Key started in.
“Bro, we’ve got to give this a day to work.”
“She doesn’t have a day,” Jem told him fiercely.
“I think Landon’s bringing her to the island because of everything we’ve been doing,” Gunner broke in. “He’s extra paranoid. That’s good for us.”
“Suppose he doesn’t bring her where he says he’s going to? Suppose he made her?” Jem demanded.
“Twenty-four hours, Jem,” Key repeated. “We can get close. But if we don’t wait, we could be risking Drea’s life too.”
Jem knew that. Rubbed his temples and fought the urge to slam his fist through the wall.
It was going to be the longest twenty-four hours of his life.
Chapter Thirty
The island was more heavily guarded than it had ever been. Gunner used the rubber Kodiak to take them in, letting the tide and their manpower do the work to get them to shore. Grace was waiting on the bigger boat two miles out—she was armed and ready for trouble but knew that those on the boat were headed to the biggest trouble.
Gunner dragged the boat to the sand, helped Avery out. He stored the boat by the other boats used to access visiting yachts and the like—it would go unnoticed for the most part. They would as well until they got within twenty feet of the main house.
The guards circled Landon’s house. The last takedown of traffickers that Key and Jem had scored had sent two different teams of men here, all looking to kill Landon. Word was that Landon had escaped, but a lot of his men hadn’t.
Which meant many of these guards were new enough not to recognize Gunner on sight. Unless Landon had been smart enough to post his picture—all their pictures.
None of that really mattered. They were heavily armed, ready to take back Drea and take down the man, or men, who had hurt them all.
“Company,” Key said softly, and Gunner saw Jem smile and make fists. The man was so ready to take someone—anyone—out, and Gunner motioned to him. “Have at it.”
Jem ran into the crowd of men and threw himself at them like he was a bowling ball and they were the pins. His body actually went sideways and he took down five of the six men, forced the sixth to trip a little.
“So’s that a spare?” Key asked before he dove into the fray. Gunner followed, his AK-47 held out in front of him.
“Gentlemen, let’s talk,” he said, and the big guard he’d beaten down months ago stared at him.
“You—we have orders to bring you in alive. Landon’s going to have fun with you,” he told Gunner, just as Jem came up behind him and put him in a headlock.
