He sits on the edge of the bed, opening a couple of paper cartons. Delicious, aromatic scents waft around the room, and my tummy rumbles appreciatively, reminding me I barely ate anything at lunch.
“I’ll make you a deal. You eat and I’ll answer one question at a time.” Like with the water, he eats first, and then he lifts a second, clean fork to my mouth, shoveling spicy chicken rice into my mouth. “I know Saint Lennox wants to meet. That he sent Bryant as his little messenger boy. Well, I don’t answer to anyone. Least of all that asshole’s offspring.”
“So, this is a powerplay?” My face pulls into a grimace. “That’s pathetic,” I scoff.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” he hisses, pushing another mouthful of food into my mouth. “But Saint Lennox needs to learn up front that he has no control in this,” he seethes.
“In what?” I ask, watching him chew slowly as anger literally vibrates from every taut muscle in his body.
“It will make sense when they arrive. I expect they won’t be much longer.”
“You’ll be lucky to make it out of this room alive,” I say, speaking nothing but the truth. “It seems rather foolish to have pulled a stunt like this. If you wanted a meeting on your terms, you just had to tell Bry that, and we could’ve worked something out.”
“You say that like he’s reasonable.”
“Saint’s…not unreasonable, some of the time,” I admit. “And you talk like you think you know him. Why is that?”
“I know his prick of a father, and he’s grown up in his shadow.”
“Saint is nothing like that bastard! Nothing!” I yell. “You don’t know a damn thing about him!”
The door crashes inward, and Howie dumps the takeout on the floor, standing behind me and pressing a gun into my head.
Saint barrels into the room like a raging bull, brandishing guns in both hands, wearing a ferocious expression that would terrify most normal men. But the guy keeping me captive is definitely unhinged and not normal.
The rest of my guys race into the room, followed by Bry at the rear. Bry has a large gash in his forehead, and fresh bruises linger under the skin on his cheeks, courtesy of my guys, I’m guessing.
The guys point their guns at the man holding me hostage while Howie keeps the gun pressed to my temple. “Put your weapons down, or I’ll put a bullet through her skull,” Howie says.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bry roars, throwing his hands in the air. Theo closes the door while Galen and Caz rake their eyes over me from head to toe, checking to ensure I’m not harmed.
“Something you were too weak to do,” Howie snarls. “Taking back control.”
“Are you okay?” Saint asks, restraining his bristling anger.
“I’m fine.” I’m not admitting I’m a little groggy or that I’ve got a monster headache, thanks to whatever he injected me with, because it’ll only turn into a bloodbath, and I want fucking answers.
“I haven’t hurt her,” Howie says. “And I don’t want to. I want to talk. See if what my brother says is true.”
“Which is?” Saint asks, still keeping his gun trained on Howie.
“That we’re on the same side. We both want to see Sinner pay.”
Saint and Galen trade guarded expressions, and I know what it means. They’re wondering if he can be trusted, and it’s a big ask given the current hostage situation.
“Why don’t we all put the weapons down,” Theo says. “You untie our wife, and we discuss this calmly like adults.”
Howie snorts. “What kind of fool do you take me for? Why do you think I did this? I don’t trust any of you punks not to shoot me the instant my guard is lowered. Or to record me and trap me into some admission. I know the way that bastard Sinner works, and he’s trained you all.”
“Howie, you’re making a big mistake,” Bry says, attempting to negotiate with his brother. “I know them, and I vouch for them. Put the fucking gun down and let Lo go. Please. Jess would not want this.”
“You didn’t fucking know her!” Howie screams, waving the gun around. “Because that bastard stole your sister’s life before you were even born.”
“I know enough about Jess from what you’ve told me, and she wouldn’t want to see any woman hurt because of her.”
“I haven’t hurt Harlow. I’ve taken care of her.”
He’s got a warped sense of how to treat a woman.
I’m betting he’s still single.
Bry steps forward. “Give me the gun, Howie.”
“You don’t tell me what to do, little brother.”
Bry exhales heavily. “I’m telling you that if you don’t give me the gun, and let Lo go, you won’t live to see the next hour, because there’s a pissed-off VERO assassin on his way here and he will shoot first and ask questions later.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That guy who’s been after you about the recording. That’s who.”
Howie tsks. “He’s not with VERO. He’s ex-FBI. A PI hired by The Sainthood to get that tape back.”
So that’s why he’s holding onto that footage. He thinks it’s of some worth to Sinner. I know Diesel was trying to help, and that he can’t blow his cover, but he’s unwittingly sent out a completely different message.
“That’s a front,” Theo says. “But he is who Bryant says he is and every bit as dangerous.”
“And he’s not the only one,” Saint adds. “Because the longer you keep my wife hostage, the less I care about what you have to say and the more I dream about riddling your body with bullets.”
“Shut up, Saintly,” I hiss, because he’s going to get us all killed. “We want to hear what Howie has to say, because he hates Sinner as much as we do. This is stupid, and we’re wasting valuable time. We are not enemies, and I’m not hurt.” I arch my neck, looking back at Howie. “I promise no harm will come to you if you untie me and put your gun down. Look into my eyes, and see the truth there.”
I’m not expecting it to work, so I’m as shocked as the others when he removes the gun, tucking it into the back waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” Howie says, eyeballing my guys.
I stare them down until they’ve lowered their weapons and the threat in the air has dissipated. Howie crouches behind me, pulling out my knife, using it to cut the tape around my wrists.
My legs are wobbly as I push myself to standing, and Saint darts forward, scooping me into his arms while growling at Howie.
Flipping my palm up, I bore a hole in Howie’s skull until he sheaths my knife and hands it back to me. I grip it in one hand as I cling to Saint, wrapping my arms and legs around him, because I don’t trust him not to lose the plot and start World War Three in this motel room. Saint sits down on the bed, and I reposition myself so my legs are dangling across his, in a more acceptable manner. I place my knife on the bed beside us.
“Call your VERO agent off,” Howie says. “I didn’t agree to any meeting with him.”
“Already done.” Theo confirms what I already know, because there’s no way Diesel has made it back from Europe yet. Plus, the guys would only call on him if they needed backup, which they don’t.