Hold on Tight (31 page)

Or maybe that was just her perception, thanks to the pain in her head. She blinked a few times and noted the shadowed men in front of her.

Alek
.

Kevin
.

Alek held a knife to Kevin’s throat and her blood ran hot with revenge and hatred, the way it had for so many years.

Alek was a big man—bigger than PJ remembered. He wore a black T-shirt and black pants and there were several tattoos along his forearms. PJ didn’t remember them being there before. “Nice moves, Patricia. But not nice enough for Grace. I guess you didn’t get all the wires,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “I’d have thought the military would’ve taught you better.”

“You bastard.”

She hadn’t thought to check farther than the vest. He’d most likely wired Grace’s legs, had known Grace would be too shaken up to tell PJ.

Grace was gone, but Kevin was still alive. His eyes drooped—he’d obviously been drugged and he was on his knees.

Alek’s face was as scarred as she’d remembered. Something inside her surged when she saw what he’d done to Kevin, tying his wrists together, and to the closet door for good measure.

She swayed, the vest hanging heavily on her frame. “Get the hell away from my father.”

Alek held his knife steady, the blade gleaming under the overhead lighting. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. But that’s sweet of you to call Peter your father. Something for him to cherish when he’s dying.”

Alek’s knife was curved, with a particularly vicious-looking blade. PJ knew that members of the Russian Mafia used similar knives as their weapon of choice, liked to slit their victim’s throats … the way Alek had slit her mother’s and father’s.

She didn’t want to be here, reliving this, but Alek seemed determined to have it happen that way, to make her watch Kevin bleed to death. And this time if she tried to run, she would die instantly.

But if she didn’t run, she was going to die anyway.

“Let’s call Ana. If she won’t come to the party, then we’ll bring the party to her. She can hide in the closet, the way you told her to do last time.”

He dialed the phone with one hand, the other still holding the knife to Kevin’s throat. Someone answered the phone, but before they could speak, Alek said, “I’ll only speak with Ana.”

There was a long pause—Alek had put the phone on speaker, and she heard people calling for her sister. Moments later, she heard Jamie’s breathless voice.

“PJ, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said, not giving a shit if Alek wanted her to respond or not. He shot her a warning look and shoved the tip of the knife into Kevin’s skin so it drew blood. PJ pressed her lips together in a silent show of surrender … even though she had no intention of doing so.

“Patricia Jane and Kevin are all right for now. So sorry about Grace,” Alek said.

“You’ve been after us a long time,” Jamie said. “It must’ve been hard for you, being on the outs with your family, being the disappointment.

“Don’t try to out-psych me, Ana. It can’t be done,” Alek promised her.

“He’s right, Jamie—he’s waited a long time for this moment. We shouldn’t ruin it for him,” PJ said, then turned her attention back to Alek. “Was killing your best friend part of your father’s wishes?”

“Let’s leave my father out of this.”

“Why? Our mother didn’t. She was the one who ruined your family, took it down. And you’ve never been able to get over it,” PJ said, egging him on.

“It couldn’t have been easy, hiding yourself, with your face like that,” Jamie broke in. “Not truly being able to live. You were in the same hell we were, Alek.”

He touched the roughness of his cheek, his fingers lingering over the scarred flesh. “I know Peter told you he saved my life.”

It was only then that PJ saw the can of gasoline and the matches that were next to Alek on the floor.

“And you’re not going to return the favor,” she spat, struggled against the bonds around her wrists.

“No,” he agreed. “Time is up, PJ.”

“You were his best friend.”

“And that’s what kept you girls alive for so long,” Alek said absently, staring down at Kevin’s face.

“You still have time to make things right, Alek. To stop this.”

“That time is gone.”

“Snipers are in place—I repeat, snipers are in place.”

The announcement hadn’t come from Jamie, but Alek heard it in the background, over the open phone line, just the same. “Snipers in place? Wonderful.”

He moved toward PJ with the grace of a seasoned predator. She immediately crouched low, tried to circle him—but her balance was off, with both her hands tied behind her back. She kicked him viciously, a nice blow, but it was as if the man didn’t feel pain. As if he didn’t feel anything at all.

Within seconds, he flipped her to the ground, held her by the throat as she struggled, kicking her legs and bucking her upper body off the floor.

“My, my, you do know how to fight, little one,” he murmured against her ear. She turned her face away, and he simply laughed. “We might have to have some fun before you die.”

“Let go of her, Alek,” Kevin said, shocking both of them, as his voice was firm and strong. But Alek quickly pushed that aside, dragging PJ to her feet and over to the window, using her body as a shield, ducking behind her.

“Let’s see how good that sniper really is,” Alek said, and PJ closed her eyes and thought of Saint.

I won’t leave you—I’ll be back
.

She would be, had to be.

Suddenly, the man was gone and all three of the brothers had a clear view inside the hallway—one man in a kneeling position on the floor, had to be Kevin … and Alek and PJ, circling each other.

“Fuck—stop fucking moving, PJ,” Chris whispered urgently, as if she could hear him.

“What? Speak up,” Jake was saying into his mike. “He knows,” Jake said to Chris now.
“Shit
, Alek knows snipers are posted.”

They watched helplessly as Alek dragged PJ toward the window, facing them, using her body to block his.

“Motherfucking cowardly piece of shit,” Nick muttered, his eye never moving from the scope.

Chris stared through the infrared for a few seconds before he realized his fingers were rubbing together around the trigger of the rifle. There was never a flash of light when he was going to take someone’s life—but now he pulled the goggles off and threw them to the side.

“Enough of this shit,” he said, stared through his scope as the figures blurred with an image of Mark’s face for just a second … and then he saw the two shadows.

“You’ve got a millimeter—you’re going to be close as hell,” Nick told him.

The only part of Alek he could see was half his face, staring out at them from behind PJ’s head. “Close is okay,” he told his brother.

“You can do this,” Nick told him. “I’ve seen you make tighter shots with less prep.”

Chris nodded, felt the trickle of sweat run down his back. Nick wiped Chris’s brow, the way Mark would have, and fuck, Mark’s face was in front of him.

Chris pulled back from the scope and forced himself to breathe.

“I don’t know what happened out there with Mark,” Nick said, “but I know that whatever you did, it was the right thing.”

Chris had been stupid to think that his brothers wouldn’t suspect what he’d had to do. They’d never ask, though, and he’d never, ever have to tell them.

“It’s just another job,” Jake told him. “That’s the way you need to look at it. Now’s not the time to fuck up your perfect record. Take the motherfucking shot so I can go home and get married.”

Chris closed his eyes tight at Jake’s demand as a small, harsh laugh came from his throat. It was just the release he’d needed.

And then, it was as if Mark was somehow guiding him, moving his hand to adjust the scope first and then leading it to the trigger. It felt at once completely unfamiliar and yet as comfortable as it ever had.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing—and everything
.

“Two shots fired from inside,” Jake reported as he was fed the intel through the mike earpiece he wore.

It was time to take the shot—Alek shifted slightly, PJ moved right, and yes, there, right fucking there.

The shot sailed cleanly through the window—Chris held his breath as he watched Alek slump to the ground, taking PJ with him.

Kevin. Oh, my God
. She crawled to him, her hands and knees cut by the broken glass, forgetting she still wore the explosive vest. Her main concern was Kevin, and he was bleeding out.

Alek, don’t do this—you don’t want to do this
, she’d heard Kevin cry out, moments before Alek shot him.

“Stay with me,” she told Kevin now as she attempted to stanch the bleeding from his stomach with her hands. “Jamie … Saint … someone—help us, please!”

Saint rushed in with Jamie and Lester, behind the SWAT team.

“Suspect is dead—repeat, suspect is dead. We need a bus. One of the hostages is down.”

Saint’s heart lurched when he heard that. He pushed forward, saw PJ holding Kevin’s head in her lap.

She hadn’t even taken off the vest of C4.

He grabbed one of the SWAT team. “She’s still wearing the vest—where’s the detonator?”

“We’ll find it,” the man assured Saint.

Jamie was next to PJ, on her knees. She’d taken off her sweater and was pressing the fabric to Kevin’s stomach as PJ attempted to take off the vest.

But her hands were smeared with blood.

Immediately, Saint was in front of her. Mass confusion surged around them, but he was calm as he told her “I’ve got this.”

“I don’t know where the detonator is, it could blow at any second—I’ve got to get out of here.”

He agreed, helped her to her feet. She paused to look at Jamie.

“I’ll stay with him,” Jamie insisted. “Get that thing off you.”

“Do you know if it’s on a timer?” Saint asked as they hurried outside, ushered by two FBI agents.

“I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”

“Bomb squad’s coming in,” one of the agents told her, but Saint had already knelt in front of her—because bomb squad, his ass.

Nick might be the expert in demolitions, but that’s because Saint had taught him every fucking thing he knew.

In seconds, he’d clipped the wires, PJ standing stock-still. Her hands were fisted at her sides, she stared straight ahead and every fiber of her being screamed for him to get the damned vest off her.

“I’m trying, baby—I’ll get it,” he told her as he fingered three wires, took a breath and cut the white one. “Done.”

Then he cut straight up the front of the Velcro on the vest and stood to push it off her shoulders, handing it to one of the agents as PJ collapsed against his chest. “It’s over, Patricia. It’s all over.”