Stephanie Tyler - Unbreakable

“He’ll kill you,” she tried.

“He might want to. But after Josie, you’d think he’d learn. But he didn’t. He’ll come back to me, the way he always does. I gave him a place to live, a purpose. You don’t forget that for a piece of ass.”

Something wasn’t adding up here, but she had too many competing thoughts to figure it out. Add to that the crushing weight of fear and she had to force herself to keep her breathing even, not to panic.

He leaned over her and added, “By the way, I left an audio link behind so James can hear everything that’s happening. So make sure you make some noise for him.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. She hated that she couldn’t wipe them away. The only thing she could do was spit directly into his face when he got close.

Her satisfaction at that was short-lived, when he pulled out a short but wicked-looking blade and tapped it against her breast.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Stared into his eyes instead of watching the knife. “I will make you pay for this, Landon.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the one who’s already paying.”

She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t look up by mistake. When she opened them because she’d heard him stop moving, he was staring down at her. And then he brought the knife back up into her line of vision.

It was bloody.

He was carving her up and she couldn’t feel a thing.

* * *

The farmers’ market was a fifteen-minute ride from his house. Gunner rolled the window down, turned the radio up and for the first time in months, he felt lighter.

There was still a lot of work to do, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and her name was Avery. And he couldn’t wait to get back to her.

Leaving her wasn’t his first choice, but she looked so damned comfortable, resting in the sauna. Besides, he knew he was Landon’s real target, would always be until he took the proper steps.

For the moment, he shoved those thoughts down hard, parked and went into the open-air market with his cap pulled down low but no glasses. He’d still manage to blend into the crowd from the majority of the people there.

But there were people he couldn’t hide from. And those same people would never be invisible to him either. It was a spook’s instinct, an eerie feeling, like looking across a crowd where everyone else except the dangerous ones were frozen.

It took ten minutes for him to gather the food he needed. It was on that ninth minute when he spotted the guy in the Mariners hat—and that guy spotted him at the same time. They made eye contact as if they were the only ones there.

Could be nothing, another spook recognizing his own kind, another spy who discovered a newcomer to his territory. But if it wasn’t . . .

He disappeared behind a large display, phone in front of him in case the guy came around the corner, and he dialed Avery. Got her voice mail.

Just because she doesn’t answer doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. After they’d showered, she’d decided to stay in the steam room for a while. She was locked in a heavily alarmed house and she had a weapon.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and made a big deal about reading ingredients on a jar of honey. Bought it because glass always made a good weapon, if all else failed.

He turned and found Mariners Cap on his six. Still meant nothing. He’d follow a guy like him too.

He paid while keeping tabs on Mariners Cap. Still no return call from Avery. He hit and got voice mail again as he headed to the parking lot.

He wasn’t going to lead the guy to the rental car or back to his house, although he’d considered that he’d been followed from there. He was having trouble shoving his panic about Avery down, because every second that passed made him more convinced that something was wrong. He walked through the main lot, past the families with the kids, strode with the guy still on his six toward the back lot.

On a weekday, it wouldn’t be full at all. And he kept walking through the mostly empty lot, filled with mostly employee vehicles.

In the farthest end of the lot, where a row of vehicles was blocking him from the road, Gunner turned. The guy had been following him, quietly, and now lunged the last several feet toward him.

Gunner reached out instinctively to grab him by the throat and put him down quickly, but stilled as he caught sight of the familiar face. The guy he had pinned had been involved in beating Gunner before dropping him in the bayou.

The car ride was oddly silent. Gunner had resisted getting into the car at all, but Landon wouldn’t hear otherwise. He’d been in the States via Mexico after the fuckup—the major fuckup that could’ve been avoided had he not gotten cocky. That would haunt him, and the fact that Landon kicked him out and off the team was worse. He’d really had nowhere to go, and no one.

He’d been reeling. And when they’d switched cars, he’d gone along for the ride, hoping he could convince one of them to talk to Landon for him. But when it drove away, with him in the back, it took him a few miles to realize they were men he’d never seen before.

When he tried to get out, they Tasered him. Beat the shit out of him when he couldn’t move until he’d passed out. He lost track of everything, figured they were going to kill him. When he woke to a wet nose on his cheek and a low howl, he thought he was about to be eaten by some kind of wolf. And he didn’t give a shit.

Now he pressed the man’s head against the nearest car hood, an arm on the back of his neck. “Who the fuck sent you?”

“Same guy who sent me the first time.”

“Guess you should’ve finished the job. Because this time, I’m going to.” With the right pressure he knocked the guy out and cracked his neck as he fell to the ground. Gunner went through his pockets, took the phone and memorized the name on the ID, kicked the guy under the nearest truck and strolled back to his car.

A fucking forced stroll instead of the full-on run he’d wanted to do. As he walked, his phone rang and he grabbed for it without looking. “Avery?”

“Someone just tried to fucking kill me, Gunner.”

Jem. “Me too. I’m going home to Avery—can’t get in touch with her.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Jem pulled into the driveway twenty minutes after he’d hung up. Gunner met him on the porch as Jem demanded, “What the fuck’s happening here?”

Jem was covered in dirt, and there were concrete pieces in his hair.

“Someone tried to kill you?”

“Suicide bomber,” Jem said grimly as he followed Gunner inside. “What do we know?”

“There’s a syringe on the back deck. Whoever took her left these two earpieces on the kitchen counter. They’re not turned on yet.”

“Fuck.”

“I shouldn’t have left her.”

“Come on, Gunner—get real. And whoever took her couldn’t have gotten far.”

“I was gone an hour. An hour could get her far. On a plane, out of the country.” Gunner swallowed his panic. “They left no tracks.”

“Listen, they want to be in contact with us,” Jem turned over the earpieces in his fingers, then popped one into his ear. “I’ll get in touch with Mike and Andy. And is there any doubt who took her?”

“None,” Gunner said grimly. “I can call him.”

“That might piss him off more. For Avery’s sake . . .”

That was the only reason he hadn’t called yet. He paced as Jem talked with Mike and Andy, forced himself to keep his phone in his goddamned pocket. Landon could be anywhere with her and his best course of action was to wait.

“What’s he doing to her, Jem?” he asked at one point.

“He’d better not do shit to her,” Jem muttered, and then he pointed to his earpiece. He turned on the tracking software and mouthed, They’re bouncing the signal. It’s going to take a little time.

Time Avery might not have. He held out his hand for the second earpiece and Jem shook his head. Paled.

“Gunner, we’ll get her back,” Jem was mouthing, pointing at the tracking software that was working furiously to pick up the location.

“Let me hear.”

“No.” Jem’s voice was hoarse. He looked like he was about to be sick.

“You have to let me be with her. Now, of all times.”

Jem cursed and handed him an earpiece. Gunner hesitated briefly, then slipped it on.

His ears flooded with Avery’s whimpers of pain.

“No,” he whispered, as if that could stop anything.

He heard sounds of grunting. Handcuffs. He tried to listen past it, to get any clues about where she’d been taken, but he couldn’t get past hearing Avery cry.

He heard, “Bitch,” muttered too low for him to tell if it was actually Landon or not.

“Fight, Avery,” he muttered. The fact that she wasn’t doing so could only mean one thing—she was drugged. Even tied, Avery would find a way to fight, scream, claw. Something.

Landon was determined to take everything away from him, to strip him down to nothing. To force him to be a machine.

He could never do that. Not after tonight.

He’d never forgive himself. Couldn’t see how she ever would either.

* * *

Avery needed him to stop cutting her. The fact that she couldn’t feel, couldn’t know if she was dying or not was freaking her out more than anything.

“He talks about you, Drew. He understands you,” Avery told Landon, trying to appeal to the man Gunner talked about, the one who’d saved Gunner from Powell. The one who’d been more of a father than Powell had been.