A shadowed figured moved behind Emmy’s head. Her stomach twisted. Cameron’s guards were here. They’d ruthlessly carry out whatever sick tortures their boss had in mind.
Cameron leaned in until his face was an inch from hers. Emmy grabbed at her shoulder, desperately trying to cling to her, but Cameron held her tightly in his arm. He didn’t care. Didn’t do anything but stare dead in Laine’s eyes.
“I was right about you. You’re nothing but a cunt, and Emmy won’t even remember you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Step back.” A low growl permeated the room.
Laine’s heart skidded to a halt.That voice.
Cameron froze, the bite of his fingers around her jaw loosening a fraction. Slowly, he turned, moving his hand to her throat to keep her pinned against the wall.
Emmy’s terrified cry strangled Laine’s heart. Every instinct made her reach for her baby. All she could do was grab her hand.
“I said, back up.” The voice rose an octave, the threat crystal clear. “Let Laine go and pass the kid to her.”
Roarke. He was here. He’d made it. Part of her brain tried to convince her she was hallucinating, or that this was some sick prank. But, no. He was right outside the bedroom door. Standing in the small basement sitting room outside their bedroom.
Cameron turned fully to face the speaker, his hand still nailing her neck to the wall. With his body out of the way, she sought the dim light shining through the basement window near Roarke. It illuminated a figure decked out in tactical gear.
Any doubts she’d had vanished. There was no mistaking the stacked, six-foot-three man before her. She couldn’t make out his eyes, couldn’t even be certain of his features, but every cell in her body sprang to life with recognition.
“Go ahead and shoot. You won’t make it out of this basement alive.”
“Neither will you,” Roarke said, nonplussed.
Laine ached to see Roarke’s face, to make eye contact, but Cameron shifted, blocking her view. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and all the blood drained from Laine’s face.
In seconds the room would be filled with guns—and Emmy was right in the middle.
Roarke’s fingertwitched on the trigger. He needed to make a fucking move before someone called the authorities. Cameron shifted the little girl in front of his chest. Fucking coward.
“Viper, basement,” he barked into his mic. “I need exfil.”
“Copy,” his friend replied. “Striker, hold down the second level.”
Laine’s fingers were clamped around her daughter’s arm, and her eyes pleaded.
Goddammit.
“Put the girl down and back away. Final warning.” If Cameron weren’t holding the child as if she were a shield, the asshole would have a bullet in him right now.
They’d been fucking careful. Nothing should have alerted Cameron to their intrusion. His bedroom was two floors up, on the second story. Something had to have tipped him off. Tears streaked down the child’s face. Her dark hair was tousled and her bottom lip trembled.
Overhead, movement sounded. A gunshot blasted through the house. Laine gasped and the little girl shrieked, covering her ears.
Roarke’s patience snapped. He pointed the gun at the ground and stormed forward. Cameron staggered back, taken off guard. Roarke drove his knuckles into the asshole’s face. Blood squirted from his nostrils, and he clapped his hand over his nose.
Roarke seized the little girl and passed her to Laine where she stood near the bed.
“Mommy!” she cried.
“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you.” Laine held her against her chest as Roarke propelled her away from Cameron and into the sitting room.
The bastard lunged, throwing a punch. Roarke dodged, grabbed Cameron’s arm, and threw him out of the bedroom. Cameron landed in the sitting room sprawled on his belly. Laine quickly backed away from him as Roarke dug his knee in the cocksucker’s spine.
“Darius! Amir!” Cameron yelled.
Roarke pulled a zip tie from his vest pocket and cinched Cameron’s wrists. He scanned the room, needing somewhere to hold the prick. He still wanted to shoot the bastard, but that’d cause a slew of problems, not to mention a lifetime of trauma for Laine’s daughter.
