“I don’t see any cameras,” Mason said. “But just in case.” He removed a thin black box from his pocket.

  “What’s that?” Val asked. The Kings always had the most fascinating gadgets.

  “Signal scrambler. Let’s go.”

  Val hurried after Mason, running toward the storage units. There weren’t many, which made it more accessible. There was the one they’d landed behind and five more buildings with units on both sides. They started with the row containing three sections. All the doors were padlocked from the outside, meaning Adrian and Saint weren’t in them.

  They quickly moved to the other side of the same three structures, again all the doors were padlocked. Once they were done, they checked the back two—same thing. Everything was locked and secured. Val motioned ahead to a larger double unit, and they hurried over. Both doors were locked.

  Mason gestured to Val, and they ran behind the main building, shrouded in shadows with a large tree and plenty of greenery. Carefully, Val looked through one of the windows. The place looked empty, all the lights were turned off, and the blinds were drawn in most of the windows. They listened but didn’t hear anything and saw no movement inside.

  “Damn it.” Val shook his head. “Nothing.”

  They continued to move forward, stopping when they got to the small fence behind the self-storage office. On the other side was a dirt lot with junk lined across the fence. It looked like pieces of broken furniture, stuffing, springs, and discarded materials.

  “It looks like the back of a furniture repair shop or maybe an upholstery business,” Val said. The place was dark, the awning at the back casting a long, dark shadow. They edged along the fence, crouched low in case someone hid in the darkness. Val had no idea why, but he got the feeling that maybe they’d found what they were looking for. “I think they’re in there.”

  “You sure?” Mason asked as they drew close to the opening in the fence.

  “No, but my gut tells me this might be the place.”

  “Okay. I’ll notify the guys.”

  Val nodded. His pulse raced, and he itched to charge into the damned building, but he knew better. If Saint was in there, they had to do this right. The last thing they needed was for Adrian to feel trapped.

  Hold on, Sweetheart. Just hold on.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Why did he feel like crap?

  Saint groaned, his stomach rolling. Ugh, his head was fuzzy, and he felt like he wanted to throw up. He knew this feeling and hated it. Breathing in deeply through his nose and releasing it through his mouth a few times helped ease some of the nausea. He tried to move his arms but couldn’t.

  “What the…?” Damn. His arms were behind him and tied with some kind of…was it wax? It was some kind of wax thread. He tested its strength and frowned. Not impossible. Where the hell was he?

  Everything came flooding back. Adrian. He and his friend had shot Saint with a damned tranq gun. They must have dragged him in here and tied him up. Wait, was he sitting in an office chair? Yep, he was. The brakes were on, but the thing had wheels. Not Adrian’s smartest move, but then all the other chairs in the place were armless office chairs, so not much of a choice. Something told him Adrian hadn’t thought this far ahead.

  Saint discreetly took in his surroundings. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the windows that he could see pretty clearly. Wherever they were, it was pretty spacious, with sewing machines and several long wooden tables containing giant rolls of fabric underneath. There were rolls of fabric and materials everywhere.

  Two of the walls were lined with metal racks containing more rolls of fabric, and multiple stacks of chairs and cushions. Pieces of furniture were also strewn about the place, along with stuffing, measuring tapes, and bottles of chemicals. Tabletops were covered with all kinds of tools, from hammers and staple guns to scissors and pliers. Upholstery. It was some kind of furniture upholstery factory.

  At the far end of the room, Saint spotted Adrian and Pete. They were arguing quietly. It was obvious Pete was still trying to get through to Adrian, and Adrian just didn’t give a fuck. Poor Pete. The guy was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Adrian had Pete’s family somewhere. Had he kidnapped them? Or did he have someone working for him? Maybe Saint could get some information from Pete somehow.

  “I told you to shut up,” Adrian snarled loudly. “If you try anything stupid, I swear Brianna and Theo are next.”

  “Listen to yourself! You know them, have known them for years. Our kids used to play together! How can you do this?”

  “One more word about it, Pete, and I’m calling my associate. Do you want that? You want him to put a bullet in your wife’s head?”

  “No,” Pete replied through his teeth.

  “Good. Then do as you’re told. Now, come on.”

  Saint closed his eyes and hung his head as their footsteps grew closer. He had to figure a way out of this or at least buy himself some time. His thoughts went to Val. By now, Val was probably worried as hell. Knowing him and the guys, they had to know about Saint’s apartment, which meant Val, and maybe some of the Kings were nearby, so yeah, he just needed to buy himself some time. He had faith in the man he loved and their friends. If he could get his hands on any of the tools on that table, he’d be set.

  “Now what? What are you going to do with him?” Pete asked.

  “I’m going to use him to get Serrano.”

  “And how are you going to do that? Call him up and say, ‘Hey, I have your boyfriend. Walk through the door so I can shoot you.’”

  “I don’t need any of your lip.”

  Someone kicked Saint’s boot.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  Saint opened his eyes, lifting his gaze without raising his head. Pete took a quick step back, but Adrian just scoffed.

  “What are you gonna do, tough guy? You’re tied to a chair.” He waved the gun. “And I’m the only one here with a gun.”

  Not for long. “Your pal, Pete, has a point. Do you really think Val’s just gonna walk through that door? Whatever he did, it can’t be worth killing for.”

  The indignant fury in Adrian’s gaze said he disagreed. “He set all of this in motion. If he’d just gone along with it, everything would have turned out great. For me, at least. He’d be in jail where he belongs.”

  “Gone along with what?” Saint asked, looking from Adrian to Pete and back. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

  Adrian’s laugh sounded a bit unhinged. “Of course not. He didn’t tell you, did he? That’s because he’s a liar and fraud, and no one had the balls to do anything about it. My plan was perfect. The guys were all out on call, leaving me, Pete, and Serrano. I knew exactly what I had to do, so I cornered him in the locker room. He was supposed to take the bait so Pete could get it all on video. I’d accuse Serrano of sexual harassment, he’d be disgraced and go to jail. No more gay fire chief.”

  Saint stared at him. What the…? Was this guy for real? “Hold on. I want to make sure I’ve got this right. Val comes out as gay, and you’re so enraged by this that you decide you’re going to set a trap. You come on to Val, thinking—because he’s gay—he’ll obviously try to have sex with you right then and there. You have your pal hide, recording everything. Things don’t go your way, and Val doesn’t fall for it, making your video evidence useless. Am I getting this right?”

  “Which meant I had to improvise. He wasn’t going to get away with it, so I called the police and told them I wanted to press charges, that I was assaulted. It was his word against mine. I gave him a chance to step down, and he refused. So, I moved forward with the charges. No matter what happened in court, he’d have to step down. The city wasn’t going to allow a fire chief who’d been accused of sexual assault to stay.”

  “So you accuse him, it goes to trial because Val didn’t do it, and he’s a fighter. Obviously, things didn’t work out quite the way you wanted because you got fired instead.”

  “Because this spineless son of a bitch,” Adrian growled, waving his gun at Pete, “grew a fucking conscience, testifies in court that it was all a ploy set up by me, and presents the video he recorded.”

  “Which is evidence that it was all a setup. The charges are dropped, an apology is issued to Val, and the city sweeps everything under the rug because, yikes, who wants to be on the news for setting up a gay fire chief and trying to send him to prison for a crime he didn’t commit? Talk about bad publicity. So, naturally, you’re fired. I think that sums it up, right?” Saint had heard of people doing some outrageous things, but wow. His heart hurt for Val and all the bullshit he’d been forced to put up with at the time.

  “That was just the beginning.”

  Oh, yay, there was more. Saint let his head fall back. “Ugh, just kill me now.” He dropped his head forward. “Look, whatever happened, you obviously need help. You can’t go around killing people because you fucked up your life. Own up to it, man. You planted a bomb because you didn’t get your way. Who does that?”

  “Don’t you belittle my pain! It’s more than that. Serrano’s the reason I lost everything! After that mess in court, I got fired. Rumors spread among the men I’d worked side by side with, brothers.” He glared at Pete accusingly. “They joked that I was probably gay too and that I was just pissed that Serrano turned me down.”

  “And…were they right?” Saint asked, curious.

  “Fuck you! Those rumors got back to my wife. Our marriage was already struggling. She was just looking for an excuse to leave me, and she did. She took my kids.”

  “I’m sorry, man, but you can’t blame Val for your marriage falling apart.” Considering what he’d been willing to do to get Val fired, including risking his career, Saint wasn’t surprised the guy’s marriage hadn’t made it.

  “No, but I can blame him for their deaths,” Adrian spat, eyes glassy and filled with rage.

  “What?” Saint gaped at him and then looked at Pete, who nodded, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

  “They were killed on the way to my mother-in-law’s house. Truck driver fell asleep at the wheel.”

  “I’m sorry.” And Saint meant it. No matter what Adrian had done, his family didn’t deserve what had happened to them. “I really am sorry. But you can’t blame Val for that.”

  “The fuck I can’t.”

  Saint let out a heavy sigh. Nothing was going to change Adrian’s mind. He’d been through a huge loss, and it was easier to blame a man he hated than himself. “Why now? That was years ago.”

  “Last month was the anniversary of the night my family died. Every year, I come down to visit their graves. I was in my shitty little motel room ready to drink myself into oblivion like I always do when the news comes on. They were going on and on about the big send-off they were going to give the fire chief after all his years of brave service. I lose everything, and that son of bitch gets to fucking retire with a pension and a fancy party to celebrate?” Adrian started to pace nervously. “Then I find out he’s going to open a local tavern, has a boyfriend, and a whole goddamn family of friends.” He shook his head. “No. No fucking way. He doesn’t get to have it all while I have nothing!”

  “Adrian,” Saint pleaded gently. “You have to stop this. Innocent people are getting hurt.”

  “I’ll stop when he’s dead.” Adrian continued to pace, moving farther away from Saint. He grew more agitated by the minute.

  Saint glanced over at Pete, who was watching him closely, fear in his eyes. He checked to make sure Adrian wasn’t looking their way, and he quickly nodded to the table. Do the right thing, Pete. All Saint needed was just one of those tools on there, any one of them.

  “Let’s say you get away with it, and you kill Val, most likely me as well. You’ve murdered two people. What then? What about your friend Pete?”

  Adrian frowned. “What about him?”

  “You’ve taken his family hostage.”

  Adrian hadn’t thought about that either. He waved the gun and shook his head as he paced some more. “It’ll be fine. I’ve been waiting too long for this. That bastard isn’t going to win this time. No. Nope.”

  Pete grabbed something off the table and shoved it in his pocket just before Adrian whirled to face him.

  “You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, would you, Pete? You’re not going to betray me, are you?”

  Pete shook his head, feigning sympathy. “Of course not, man. I mean, that would only implicate me, wouldn’t it?” He walked around Saint’s chair and slapped his hands on Saint’s shoulders. “But that means no witnesses. If I’m going to help you do this, I don’t want any of it coming back on me.”

  Adrian nodded. “Exactly. Now you’re getting it, Pete.” He paused and narrowed his gaze at his friend. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “Not so much as a change of heart as accepting the facts. What will it do me to refuse? I could end up dead, and then what? I have to think of Briana and Theo.” Pete dropped one hand, and a pair of wire cutters touched Saint’s palm. He closed his fingers over it, and Pete patted his shoulder. “I’m sure our friend here understands. There’s just no other way.”

  It took some uncomfortable and awkward maneuvering, but Saint managed to start cutting the wax thread. As he did, a faint sound caught his ear. What was that? It definitely hadn’t been there before. Was that…static?

  Adrian stilled. “What is that?”

  “What?” Pete asked, walking around Saint.

  “Don’t you hear that?” Adrian slowly walked around, listening. “It sounds like…radio static.”

  Saint listened intently. Adrian was right. There was radio static coming from somewhere. A blue glow appeared across the room, and they all turned their attention to what looked like a small black digital radio sitting on one of the workstations.

  “The fuck?” Adrian headed toward the radio, and it started beeping.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  It stopped.

  “What the fuck?” Adrian bent over to peer at the radio. He very cautiously poked it, then picked it up, his frown deep as he inspected it.

  “Maybe it’s on a timer or something,” Pete said. “Or like an alarm that was set by mistake.”

  Beep.

  Pause.

  Beep. Long Beep. Beep.

  Pause.

  Beep.

  Well, I’ll be damned. Saint was so happy he wanted to throw his arms up and shout, but obviously, he didn’t. Fucking Jack. Okay, he had to hand it to the guy. That was damned smart. How he did it, Saint had no idea, but he did it. Could digital radios be hacked? Guess so, seeing as how Jack was sending Morse code through one. The beeping started again.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. H.

  Beep. E.

  Beep. Long Beep. Beep. R.

  Beep. E.

  Here.

  Saint had never been so happy over one word.

  “The batteries are probably dying,” Pete said, and Adrian pressed buttons until it shut off. Didn’t matter. Saint had gotten the message loud and clear. He’d also finished cutting through the restraints. He took a quick look around him.

  “I don’t think you’re going to get what you want today either,” Saint said, his eyes never leaving Adrian as he slowly inched his chair back. He stopped when Adrian started to turn his way.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “See, when you shot up Val’s tavern, you had no idea who you were shooting at.”

  Adrian shrugged. “Your point?”

  “My point is that you shot one of our friends. And our friend, well, his boyfriend is a former Special Forces Green Beret. Now, those snake eaters are a hardcore bunch. Not as badass as us SEALs, of course, but still pretty hardcore. A few of them are a little off the rails, but they’re good guys. Always handy to have around.”

  “Am I supposed to be scared?”

  “Yes. Yes, you should be. Because the man you pissed off?” Saint cringed. “Oof. He isn’t the kind of guy you want to piss off.”

  A red dot from a laser sight appeared on Adrian’s chest over his heart.

  “I would suggest you put the gun down, Adrian.” As scary as the guys were, he knew this was a scare tactic because if any of the Kings wanted Adrian dead, he’d have been on the floor in a pool of blood by now. Now King on the other hand, Saint wasn’t so sure about. Adrian had almost killed Leo. There had been rumors about King hunting down a guy who’d hurt Laz and making him pay, so….

  Four more lasers joined the first, all converging to make one large red dot on Adrian’s chest. The guy dropped his gaze and cursed.

  “Looks like the gang’s all here,” Saint said, grinning wide. “Just put down the gun, Adrian, and you can walk away from this unscathed.”

  Adrian lifted his gaze, and at that moment, Saint knew surrendering wasn’t in the cards. Fuck. Why did they always have to do things the hard way? Saint dove out of his chair just as Adrian fired and dropped to the floor. Pete smartly ducked behind one of the tables, while Saint scrambled behind another.

  “You come in here, and I’ll kill him,” Adrian bellowed, firing a shot into the ceiling.

  Silence followed.

  Taking Adrian in alive might not be an option, though he knew the guys would give it their best. Saint slowly got into a crouched position and started moving. He couldn’t see through to the other side because of all the damned rolls of fabric. Listening, he tried to figure out where Adrian was. No one had run for the door, so everyone was still inside. Saint had to do something because the guys were going to make a move soon, and Saint didn’t want anyone getting shot.

  A window shattered somewhere, and Saint looked up in time to see a black torpedo fly through the window. Make that a furry black torpedo.

  “What the fuck was that?” Adrian spat. “Where did it go?”

  Since there was no screaming yet, Saint would guess that Chip was hiding. Or hunting. Saint had just about made it to the end of the table when Chip popped out from under it, scaring the ever-loving shit out of him. He put a hand to his chest, thankful his spirit hadn’t left his body. As much as Saint wanted to glare at Chip, it was hard to do with that cute face and huge ears.