Anat rolled her wheelchair back toward the door to the hallway, her hand trembling. She made a little trilling sound with her pursed lips. “Terrie? What is this?” She kept rolling her chair until she was in the hallway.
Terrie followed with her partner. “Well, Anat. This is Randy, one of my partners. My other partners are with your granddaughter, so if you want to see her alive again, you’d better cooperate with us this time. Lester isn’t nearly as nice as we are. He visited the Randalls the other night and things didn’t go well. You don’t want that happening to Zyah, do you?” She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice.
Anat had backed her chair into her sitting room and slammed the door like a child. As if that would keep her safe. Or her granddaughter safe. Terrie stepped aside and Randy kicked the door open. He held a gun pointed at Anat’s head, centered right between her eyes. He was right in front of the open window. The breeze fluttered the curtains, allowing the sea air to cleanse any fear from the room.
“Take the shot, take the shot,” Jackson ordered in the ears of the Torpedo Ink members.
The bullet hit Randy in the temple, driving him away from the window and Anat, spinning him around and taking him down. Terrie screamed, diving toward the gun, scooping it up and popping up to take a shot at Anat.
A huge tattooed man came out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Anat, taking her right out of the wheelchair to the floor, his body completely enveloping hers, taking the bullet meant for her as the rifle sounded a second time, and Terrie felt pain blossoming throughout her entire body and then went numb. She couldn’t hold on to the gun, even though her brain told her she needed it. She was looking directly at the man who had taken Anat to the floor. He was enormous, all muscle. Terrifying. He looked at her as if she were already dead, and maybe she was.
“Anat, did I hurt you?” Destroyer spoke gently.
“No. My leg aches a bit, but you wrapped it so well. Are you hit?”
“It’s nothing. No worries. Lana and Jackson took care of both of them. I don’t want you looking at them. I’ll get cleaners in here. I’m going to pick you up and take you into the bedroom. Jackson can hear me, so he knows you’re alive and everything’s all right. Both are down, Jackson. The male is dead, the female on her way out. Another minute.”
“You hit?”
“It’s nothing. Take care of Alena and Zyah. Lana, back them up. I’ve got this. Do we have anyone on Lizz?”
“Yes,” Czar said. “She’s covered.”
“Lester plans on killing Francine,” Jackson reminded. “We have to try to find a way to stop him. Do you have eyes on him? Or how many men he’s got with him? I haven’t spotted him yet.”
Francine knows Player killed those two men Jonas fished out of the ocean. She was in the garage the night they tried to kidnap Zyah. Sooner or later she’ll tell out of spite or try to blackmail Zyah and him, Czar reminded. This isn’t going to end well for Francine, no matter how much any of us would like it to.
Player had managed to make his way to Sea Haven with the rest of his team to meet up with Czar’s team, joining them just as the orders were given by Jackson for Lana to take the shot at Randy, and then she had to shoot at Terrie. They had choreographed ahead of time, over and over, as they did when they ran their own operations, to make certain they were prepared for every contingency. These thieves couldn’t be left alive, not after Player had shot two of them and Jonas already suspected him.
Czar could be ruthless when it came to protecting his family. And his family was Torpedo Ink. Who was Player kidding? They all could be ruthless, and they would protect every family member—and that included Zyah and her grandmother.
“Trying to get eyes on him now,” Ice reported. The bastard is sitting about two hundred feet from Francine. He’s got four men with him. They plan on boxing Zyah and Alena in.
They’re expecting their lookout Ralph to show up as well, Steele said. Jonas had to stay with his body.
Zyah and Alena got out of the car and made their way down the narrow path through the tall grass toward the bluff. The blowhole was about midway there, a small fence surrounding it to make people aware there was danger and to stay away. The wind had come up just a bit, as it could on the coast, blowing in from the ocean, carrying both salt water and tendrils of fog with it.
Storm and Ice fed the fog, letting it thicken and darken, moving it toward the bluffs. Francine had been huddling on the ground, but as Zyah and Alena approached, she jumped up, a look of horror on her face.
“It was only supposed to be you, Zyah. Only you.” She began backing up, shaking her head, her fingers covering her mouth, looking wildly around.
She hadn’t been lying. Someone had beaten her severely. Her face was swollen and lumpy, eyes nearly closed. Her mouth was distorted. Her clothes were ripped nearly off. Zyah held out the coat to her, but Francine continued to back away, shaking her head.
“You don’t understand.” The words came out a moan. “You had to come alone.”
“Why did she have to come alone?” Alena asked. “I’m a woman, honey. I understand these things. I’m not going to tell anyone. We’ll get you home.”
“No. No. They’ll hurt my grandmother. They will. I’m sorry, Zyah, but it was you or my grandmother.” Francine’s sobs were loud, the sound carrying in the night air.
“Shut up, bitch. I’m so fucking sick of your whining. You were happy enough to take the money and watch all the old people get beat.” Lester’s voice came from behind them.
“Stop,” Francine whispered. She put her hands over her ears and kept backing up. “Don’t tell them. Don’t say it.”
“Why? Don’t you want them to know what you did? How you wanted us to fuck her up? You were right there yelling at us to fuck her up. To beat her until she couldn’t stand up, until no one would be able to look at her face again. You laughed when her grandmother was beaten so badly and you told us we didn’t get the treasure. That her grandmother hid the greatest treasure of all from us. You were the one giving us all the information on the families in this town, your neighbors, the people you grew up around. And you did it for money.”
Lester continued to mock her as two men came up on the left side of Zyah and Alena and another two on the right. “And now you’ve brought these two women here so we can get the treasure. You know what we’re still going to do, you little whiny bitch? We’re going to take your grandmother’s jewelry, all of it, tell her what you did and then beat her almost to death. We might leave her alive so she can think about you every damn day and how you betrayed her. First, though, I’m going to put a bullet in your fucking mouth because I can’t take hearing your voice one more minute.”
He raised his gun. Francine turned and ran. Zyah yelled at her to drop to the ground. Three shots rang out simultaneously. The fog swirled thicker than ever. There was a thin wail that choked off midcry. Jackson was a marksman, and Lester had gone down immediately. He’d been hit by Jackson’s rifle as well as Lana’s and Preacher’s.
The men on either side of the women tried to use them as shields, pulling weapons and firing into the night, one dragging at Zyah’s arm to thrust her in front of him. Another clawed at Alena. Player ignored every command by Jackson, first sprinting and then somersaulting, coming up under the man holding on to Zyah, hitting him with both feet in the jaw, snapping his head back so hard, there was an audible crack.