Two hours earlier…
“Alastair’s your best friend. How could you do this to him?”
I’m sitting on a chair in the middle of his office, my hands are shackled to the armrests.
“How long are you intending to keep me like this, then?” I ask.
“First, none of your fucking concern,” he says, eyes narrowed, “and second, don’t you dare to presume you know anything about me, or my friendship with Alastair. We’ve known each other for most of our lives. He pickedyouup at an auction less than a month ago.”
Alec is still in his tactical suit, there’s a rip on one shoulder and a blood spray across the shirt. I don’t see any bandages, so at least it’s not his blood. Why do I care? This arsehole kidnapped me! Again! Three fecking times? I must be payin’ for the sins of my entire family.
“I know that he loves you like a brother,” I pursue, “I know that he went to war with the Zhang Triad to protect me. Canna you allow him to care about both of us? I’m not here to interfere with your friendship.”
“You’re a MacTavish,” he spat. “That’s reason enough to despise you. However, if your father has the slightest shred of honor, you won’t be here long.”
“What does that mean?” My fists clench, pulling against the handcuffs.
“It means that I’ve messaged him,” he smiles at me and I blink. Why does that look so familiar? “I will trade your life for his.”
“What?” The cuffs are pulling against my skin but I barely feel it, leaning toward him. “Why do you want my father?”
Alec settles behind his desk, smiling. It isn’t a good smile. This is a smile that promises death and retribution. “I’m going to kill him.”
***
Alastair…
Dr. Fujimoto is bandaging my thigh while I listen for each team to call in on the security line.
Callum calls first. “The warehouse is gone. We shot thirty-seven men and found sixteen women and children in the back.” His voice drops and he sounds a little ill. We were about to torch the place when Ben heard someone crying. They had them behind a false wall. I would have walked right past it and never known.”
“Good work, did we lose anyone?”
“No. A couple of bullet holes and a burn on Erik’s arm that will take a while to heal,” he says, “the idiot got too close to the flames. We might need to keep an eye on the fucking pyromaniac.”
My next team checks in, then the third and the fourth. Five men died, but every target we isolated for Zhang was nothing but ash, blood, and bone.
“What about Zhang?” Callum asks.
“I didn’t get as much time with him as I would have wished to,” I say, thinking of his gore-covered face with a grin. “But he is quite dead.”
***
Two hours before…
The firefight was a blur of violent bursts of sound, color, and movement. Zhang hid behind his strike team, and it took an hour and gallons of their blood to subdue them. I had a dagger still sticking out of my thigh when I found the bastard, hiding in the back of the mansion in his so-called safe room.
“Lucy?” I speak into my headset, “Can you program this door to open?”
“Yeah,” she drawled, “can you give me a clear shot of the control panel?”
I could hear groans and the occasional gunshot as my men finished off the rest of Zhang’s soldiers.
“Sir?” Keith is one of my best fighters and he kept an eye over my shoulder for any potential targets. “Shouldn’t we get that knife out of your leg?”
“How much time, Lucy?”
“Three or four minutes, Boss. But I can patch you into the interior cameras so you know what’s waiting for you.” The images pop up on my phone.
