Brand released a grim sigh. “Plan B.”
Chapter eighteen
Sabrina walked through an endless field of sunflowers with Jayson. He held her hand and sent her the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen. Well-trimmed stubble accentuated his sharp jawline, and his eye blazed bright with love and affection. The black T-shirt he wore fit tightly over his sculpted pecs and the short sleeves cut into his solid biceps, making him look ridiculously hot. “Everything is going to be alright,” he told her. Then he tugged her close, and as his head lowered to kiss her—
She screamed.
Pain shot through her, destroying the perfect daydream far removed from the current hell she inhabited. Her mind crashed back to the present and her eyes flew open. The bunker. The pliers. Ferrante. He’d ripped off the fingernail on her pinkie.One down, nine to go.
Sure, she’d gone through field training. She’d learned defensive tactics, firearms proficiency, investigative procedures and interrogation techniques that relied on psychology andevidence. Not how to withstand torture. She wasn’t in the fucking CIA.
And she wasn’t sure how long it would be before she passed out.
But she knew one thing for certain—she would never say Chaz or Lottie’s names. She would protect Jayson’s friends until her last breath. Neither of them deserved what she was going through, and Rocco couldn’t possibly capture, torture and kill all of Jayson’s friends in his desperate search for an answer. At least she hoped not.
Plus, they’d been dragged into the Ferrante nightmare through no fault of their own. She’d been assigned the Ferrante case. Her end goal had been to stop the Ferrante brothers and destroy their control over the Vegas crime world. They held too much power, and she was a part of the team intent on their demise.
Now it looked like her demise was imminent. She was the one who wouldn’t be walking out of this place alive. But she took heart in her loyalty, refusing to throw anyone under the bus. Lottie was a mother, with another baby on the way, and probably the sweetest person Sabrina had ever met. Chaz was Jayson’s friend. The husband Lottie adored.
Keep your mouth shut, Sabrina. Be as loyal as Clytie, keeping your eyes on the sun.
Another anguished cry ripped from her throat when Rocco jostled her injured hand.
“I want a name,” he hissed. Beside him, one of his flunkies stood silently, a smirk on his face. He was enjoying the show. Enjoying her pained screams.
Sabrina pressed her lips together, defiant as fuck, and desperately wanting to return to the sunflower field in her mind. With Jayson.
The man who had appeared on her doorstep, cranky, ill-tempered and grouchier than the eighty-year-old neighborhood curmudgeon who refuses to hand out candy on Halloween. But she quickly realized he wasn’t any of those things.
In reality, he was caring, kind and extremely passionate. A father who loved and protected his daughter with every breath. A former military man who’d fought for his country and had forged a found family of brothers who’d welcomed her into their lovely, if slightly dysfunctional, fold. A man who’d given her attention and the greatest pleasure she’d ever known. He’d made her feel seen, not just fucked.
And what had she done? Not shared her true feelings. Screwed everything up by leaving. And then got caught by this mob maniac.
“You’re tougher than I thought you’d be,” Ferrante grumbled. “I know a little bit about personal loyalty.” His voice softened, turned almost cajoling. Most likely a misguided trick to get her to talk. “Giving up information on people you actually care about might be too much to ask. Let’s start with something simpler. Tell me what the FBI knows. What are they planning?” His face changed, almost as though he had an epiphany. “Are they the ones behind my brother’s death? Did they put the hit out?”
The FBI might want to destroy Ferrante’s control, but they hadn’t ordered Donato’s death. They didn’t work with hitmen or employ shady methods like the CIA. Either way, she couldn’t give Ferrante what he wanted.
Instead of responding, she shifted her attention to the exit. To the hidden trap door that would open up to the desert and blue sky beyond.
But she would never see the sky again. Unlike Clytie who was able to bask in the sun after her transformation into a sunflower, she was destined to die underground in a mob kingpin’s torture chamber.
Ferrante let out a frustrated growl and grabbed her hand. “You’re going to tell me what I want to know!” The pliers fought to get a grip on her index fingernail, but she jerked it away.
If Ferrante thought she’d make it easy, he was sorely mistaken. Sabrina was going to give him hell until her last breath.
The Motley Crew neutralized the perimeter guards then climbed over the wall. They kept to the shadows and used the fitness center as cover. Brand, Chaz and Corey took the explosives and hurried off, while Jayson and Lex hunkered down behind the building. They were counting on the distraction to draw out the guards, enabling Jayson and Lex to sneak over to the bunker and get Sabrina.
Cocking his head, Jayson swore he’d heard something. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I definitely did,” Lex said. “It almost sounded like—”
Muffled screams reached their ears, and Jayson bolted to his feet. “That’s Sabrina,” he growled.
“Wait!” Lex made a grab for him, but not fast enough. Jayson raced for the trap door as explosions suddenly rocked the quiet.
That’s all the distraction he needed. Running as though his and Sabrina’s lives depended on it, which they very well may, he skidded to a halt right as the door flung open. One of Ferrante’s enforcers climbed out. Not expecting to see Jayson, or the Glock pointed at him, he froze. Before he could react, Jayson fired off a headshot. No time to fuck around.
Lex came running over, grabbing the guy as he slumped to the ground, and dragged him to the side. Then Jayson headed straight down into the darkness, determined to save Sabrina, Lex guarding his six.
