Eyeing the room, I was wondering whether, if worse came to worst, could I dig myself out through the walls. Okay. That was a bit dramatic for me, so I opened the panel and pored over all the buttons. They were labeled. I could call the front desk, the Chesapeake, 911, or I could unarm the door. The door was armed? Then the bottom button was “Exit.”

  Okay.

  That whole eerie calm feeling I’d been having before? Vanished. Evaporated. It was gonzo and I was panicking.

  Calm, Bailey. Calm.

  I went to my deep-breathing techniques. I was not claustrophobic, even though this was a tiny room with no windows. I turned around. There was a screen!

  And a remote under it.

  Now I was talking.

  I grabbed it, turning on the screen. Oh, hell yeah. There were cables in the corner. I hurried over, plugging the computer in to the larger screen and I was in business. A small desk and chair were in the corner, but I wheeled the chair over, pulling the desk right afterward. And sitting down, I was now in my own personal computer headquarters room.

  I could watch and help this way.

  Or so I was telling myself, but the truth is that I didn’t do much.

  I did sit. And I did watch. And I mostly marveled at how Kash and his brother seemed to work seamlessly together.

  They were magnificent.

  Both moving with precision, going fast. It was as if they had grown up together, as if they had been trained together. One went low, the other went high. One went right, the other went left. And it wasn’t that one moved and the other followed. They moved at the same time.

  They were almost a perfect mirror of each other.

  “Bailey?”

  I jumped, screaming. That voice came from … I whirled. Where?

  “Bailey!”

  The feeds.

  I looked up. Kash was staring at one of the cameras, scowling. “Bailey!”

  He had a headset and was connected into the system. I raced for the laptop and hit the sound button. “Yeah? I’m here.”

  He nodded to the screen and pointed ahead of him. “We need to know how many men are in that room.”

  I looked. “Four.”

  “Guns?”

  My heart sank, then shriveled up. “Yes. But they aren’t aimed at the door.” I gave him their locations using the clock system. Noon. Three. Six. And ten.

  He gave me one more nod and turned back to Chase.

  Both went together.

  Noon and Ten were shot at the same time.

  Three got off a shot, but then he was clipped and went down.

  Six was last, turning to run.

  Chase tackled him, and rearing back up, he brought his fists down. He just kept punching. I heard Kash cursing as he went and yanked his brother off the guy.

  The guy was unconscious.

  “Rein it in,” Kash snapped at his brother, moving ahead of him for the next room.

  They kept going until I told them who was in what room. In the last room, they found Josh and Scott. Drake and Fitz were there, too.

  Kash went over, checking Josh’s pulse. “He’s alive.” The rest were alive, too.

  I breathed easier after that.

  “Shit!”

  I jumped, my head jerking to where Chase was standing.

  His hands were on his hips and he was looking around the room. “Shit! He’s not here. He’s not here!”

  There was a buzzing and I clicked through the screens.

  My finger was fumbling when I hit the button, and I couldn’t speak, not at first. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “Kash!” I screamed, but Chase was still yelling.

  “Kash!”

  “Shut up,” he snarled at Chase, then lifted his head. “Bailey?”

  He was there, hurrying down the stairs, through the parking garage door. He was alone.

  “He’s here.” I could not speak. What the crap? Now? Seriously. “Your gran—Calhoun is here!”

  Both went still.

  Then they leaped at the same time, rushing out of the room and down the hall.

  Kash yelled out, “Where, Bailey? We need direction.”

  “Downstairs. He’s in the garage.” My mouth was so dry. “He’s alone, you guys.”

  I couldn’t believe it, but at my words, they shared one look before they were both sprinting even faster. Chase went down one set of exit stairs, but there was another set on the other side of the floor.

  I looked back to the garage, seeing Calhoun was hurrying to that other side.

  “Kash! Take the other stairs.”

  He veered away, around the door, and was gone in a flash.

  I was holding my breath. I was there, with them, soaring down the stairs alongside them.

  But wait. I wasn’t.

  I was still in this damn closet.

  I needed to get down there. I had to.

  I looked around. The panel of buttons. Kash said I could get out that way.

  I started hitting every button there was.

  SIXTY

  Kash

  Bailey said to use these stairs for a reason.

  Because of that, I hit the door hard, slamming it open, and I was through it just as he was moving past me.

  All this buildup, all the years, all the fears and worries and tears and threats, every fucking minute I spent in the gym making myself into this weapon, and it was here. Finally. I reached for him at the same time Chase came hurtling in.

  “Don’t!” Chase yelled.

  I turned, not seeing the flash as Calhoun had whirled around to me.

  I felt a searing burn on my side, but fuck … I couldn’t think what that meant. I saw the gun at the same time he was raising it back up, but Chase was there. Chase swung in, hitting Calhoun on the side. The gun went wide, clattering over the floor, but after that, the fight was almost done.

  Almost.

  Calhoun had nothing left, that was obvious.

  Chase growled, shoving him back against the vehicle.

  Laughter.

  I paused.

  It was spilling from Calhoun.

  I barely recognized him from the old surveillance pictures that Harden had given me, before I pulled the team to help get Chase free. He’d had a healthy weight the last time I saw him in person, but this man was old, haggard. His skin hung from his bones, sagging, and he was so skinny. Gaunt. His hair had been salt and pepper before. It was all gray now, some ends of pure white. He hadn’t shaved, I was guessing, in months. His stench said he hadn’t showered, either.

  This was it.

  This was the end, but fuck … I felt the pain slicing through me and I reached for my side. Blood coated my fingers, and I was feeling the burn now.

  That shit had shot me.

  Chase had him against the vehicle, slamming him into it over and over again. “You think this is goddamn funny?”

  A savage growl ripped from me and I surged in, grabbing Calhoun from Chase. I tossed him to the concrete floor. He was rolling, trying to get free, but that laugh. It sounded like an evil character’s laugh, and it was making me grind my teeth even more.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  He kept rolling, and I grabbed him by the ankle. I twisted him over and bent his leg back until he couldn’t move anywhere. Then I kept on bending until I heard him scream instead. A little more. Pop. I felt it. Only then did I let it go, stepping back and standing over him. He had one good leg now, but I was looking him over. He’d had one gun. There could be more.

  A presence was coming in from my right, but I moved, slamming Chase back. “Stop!”

  “You stop.” He shoved me back. His eyes were wild, feral. He was almost salivating. “I want him dead.”

  “I want answers.”

  “Fuck the answers.”

  Chase started for him again, but I was seeing red.

  In the back of my mind, I knew we each had our own cross to bear here. Both of us had been terrorized and threatened by Calhoun all our lives, but in different ways. I didn’t care. Each man for himself, as far as I was concerned. And because of that, when my brother started for him again, only seeing Calhoun, I pounced. I couldn’t bring myself to knock my brother out—I didn’t know why, and I’d maybe think on that later, but as he stepped forward, I kicked out his leg. When he fell, I was there, my arms wrapped around him, and he toppled forward. I went with him.

  I had him in a headlock, my legs preventing him from fighting back. He couldn’t fight me. My arms had his locked up at an angle that he would’ve needed to break a shoulder—Pop!

  Fuck.

  He did.

  Chase rolled out from my hold and was up on his feet the next second. “You fucking kidding me?” He was roaring at me, his voice echoing through the garage. “This kill is mine. You didn’t live with him, under his thumb, being turned into a—”

  I rushed him, trying to lock him back down.

  He was the emotional one. Not me, not this time. I wanted justice, but I wanted my hits, too. Chase, he just wanted to kill. That made him irrational, not thinking clearly, and I was going to use that. He wanted me off and he wanted a clear path to Calhoun. I wasn’t letting him get that.

  He swung, batting me away, but his punches were pulled. He didn’t want to hurt me. Fine. Guess I’d be the asshole here. I moved back, letting him think his punch worked, and he turned, already going for Calhoun again. I did an exact repeat of my first move, but this time, as I kicked out his knee, I kicked it harder than was needed. I heard another tear and I winced, knowing I was doing so much damage to my twin, but he fell and I fell with him with my legs wrapped tight around him so he couldn’t move. I waited, praying, praying, praying.

  He paused.

  He fought.

  He twisted.

  He roared.

  His head lashed around, trying to find mine, to make contact. I gritted my teeth, tightening my hold around his neck until I felt his body go slack. I still waited, loosening my hold on his neck so he could breathe. He did. I felt his chest move, but he didn’t try to get out of my hold.

  He was unconscious.

  Still cautious, breathing harder than I thought, only my panting filled the garage now. I unwound from his body, kicking him over so he was on his side in case he vomited, and when my brother was okay, I lifted my head.

  Calhoun was sitting up, watching us.

  He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t tried to retreat. But then I saw why.

  He was holding on to his own shoulder. Blood was pouring down from him. He’d been shot. But I looked around and didn’t know what gun—

  “Chase shot me.”

  He jerked his head to the side, where I saw a gun lying there.

  I stood, my panting still echoing around the garage, and looked over my grandfather more carefully. One of his legs was crushed. Chase had shot him there, too.

  “I can’t use it.”

  He sounded resigned to his fate, and he grunted, half laughing again. A shake of his head, his beard barely moving, he let out a deep burst of air.

  “Bested. Bested by my two grandsons.”

  Another half laugh, half grunt and he looked where Chase was lying. “That pathetic piece of shit was supposed to be my ace. I wanted him back. If I got him back, I could turn everything around. Slap him around, lock him back up until he was ready to come out and play like the soldier he was supposed to be. Didn’t think I’d ever see the two of you team up. Pieces of shits, both of you.”

  My teeth were grinding.

  “I know it’s over. You…” Those eyes came back to me now, and hate filled them. Derision. Disdain. His mouth curled in a sneer. I was scum under his shoes. “Should’ve tossed you both out like pups, in a tied bag. Let you drown. But I had a weak spot for your mother. What a fucking cunt, all of you. Her sister, too. She was worthless. Then you, you should’ve been aborted when I found out she was pregnant. You both…”

  I was letting him spew, and he kept saying the same shit.

  He wanted us dead. He should’ve killed us when he had the chance.

  His daughters were worthless, both of them.

  And back to the beginning.

  “Why’d you kill my mother?”

  He stopped on a gargle, his eyes glazed over from the pain. He stared at me, long and hard, as if he couldn’t see me. Then he hiccupped, and some blood sputtered out of him. “For the money. Bitch had my money.”

  “Your money?”

  “Her inheritance from her mother. That was supposed to be mine. All the fucking stupid courts and their fancy lawyer. Your grandmother left everything to her. Not her sister. Not me. Her. She didn’t have to die, though. She could’ve lived. But no, no. In the end, the bitch turned on me and had to go. Stupid. She was so stupid. That man, too.”

  My father.

  Calhoun spat, “He was a worm. Nothing but a slithering, slimy worm. Losers. And you and your brother, you’re the worst of them. You’re just like your mother.”

  He kept going, the blood seeping from him as he said the same shit over and over again.

  “You killed my mother for money? Why not kill me?”

  He stared at me again, as if confused that I had even dared address him. “Because you wouldn’t take your money. And you were a minor. Knew my daughter. I hated her, lost all respect for her, but knew her. She would’ve had something written up that if you died, everything that should go to you would’ve gone to that computer nerd. I knew his weak spot. He crumbled. Get good pussy around him and he’d have to grab it. Young. Beautiful piece of ass and he’d do anything to get his dick wet. Easiest thing I ever did, sending Quinn to him. She worked him. She could pump him. She told me all about it. We’d laugh about it, and then I’d get my dick wet. Best ass I’d touched.” He started smiling. His yellowed teeth were caked with blood.

  “I had to wait for you. Took you long enough. Couldn’t understand it, why you were doing what you were doing. Who’d turn their back on the money and power you’d be inheriting? Then I got word that you finally stepped up. Quinn helped with that. Said she sent that journalist pussy what she needed to out you, said it was only a matter of time. Said that if you were outed, you’d step up and you’d take control over what your cunt of a mother left you. Knew then it was time to start moving.”

  He quieted, breathing harder now. He was staring at Chase, but I didn’t think he was seeing him. His body was weakening before my eyes. The blood loss was affecting him, making him more pale.

  He murmured, softer, almost faint. “I never had time. He has a daughter in Thailand. I was going to kill her if he ever turned on me, but he hid her. Now I don’t have anyone left. All my friends. They turned their backs on me, or you killed them. You destroyed everything. I have nothing. I have no one. These guys weren’t my normal guys—even those guys abandoned me. You took everything from me, everyone. Even Quinn refuses to contact me. I made her who she is today. The other one, too, worthless. All of them. They’re rats, and they scatter when there’s a little bit of fire. Stupid fucking fire. I hate fire. I hate…” He lifted his head again, but it was straining him. “I hate you. I die, and your woman is going to die. I have a guy. He promised me that he’d kill her for me. And you don’t even know who he is, that’s the kicker.”

  He had no one left.

  I had drained his resources, destroyed everything he could’ve used against me.

  The government froze his accounts.

  He didn’t have the capability to get to what accounts he could still use.

  Yeah. I had a guess who he had asked to kill Bailey.

  I went over to him, kneeling down before him. “That man who was supposed to kill my woman, his name Mike Harden?” That was his death policy. Calhoun had entrusted the one person he had left, but Harden was my guy.

  Surprise lit in his eyes, and his mouth parted. “You know him?”

  “Yeah.” I was going to relish this. “He works for me.”

  His eyes went flat.

  I smirked. “He always has.”

  “Wha—” he choked out, blanching, before a whole new fury started in his eyes.

  Chase was starting to stir behind me. I felt the first groan from him, so I started to move, when suddenly I heard Bailey scream, “Kash!”

  Calhoun was bringing up a gun. An ugly and harsh laugh ripping from him as his finger moved to the trigger.

  I lunged.

  Bailey had a knife, and in a split second she threw it toward me.

  I flung myself out of the way.

  Bam!

  The gun went off.

  Boom.

  I felt like I was punched, but I was submerged in water. Everything was dull, happening in slow motion, and I reached, catching the knife from Bailey. I grabbed it at the handle and a little over the blade. It cut into my skin from how tight my hold was, but I fell to my knees and I lashed out. It all happened in three seconds.

  Bailey yelled.

  Bailey tossed the knife.

  I jumped.

  Reached for it.

  Caught it.

  My knees hit, and my arm made a horizontal slashing motion, right across his throat.

  Then Chase was up and he was throwing himself at us.

  Calhoun was sitting there, blood cascading down his throat, but he was trying to raise the gun again. He was trying to turn it. He would have shot me, but Chase grabbed it and threw it away. It clattered away like the other one.

  Chase staggered back, falling into the vehicle. He glared at me. “So stupid. You don’t let him talk. Ever.” He bent forward, picking up the knife. He gripped it, turning it over. “You gotta put him down. That’s how you handle someone like him.”

  “Chase, don’t!”

  Bailey was running toward us, but boom! The door burst open behind her. Bodies swarmed inside, guns raised, shields in place. Red and blue lights filled the air. The cops had arrived.

  It was over.

  Chase let out another roar, but I moved, catching him in the chest. He would’ve stabbed Calhoun in front of the police. I slammed him back, feeling pain with every shift I was making now. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I knew I’d be in worse pain after this.