The Revenge by Tijan

Her head lifted. Her face was pinched in. “I am not what you’re thinking. I swear it. There are things you both don’t know about, reasons … just … things you don’t know. It’s why I’m here. I have to be here. I have to play nice for my sister right now. Just right now, and then—” She cut herself off, swallowing. She looked in pain, her eyes closing slowly. “Please let me walk in there alone. Please let me see this through. You can wait for me. I’ll ride back with you guys to the house. I’ll tell you everything she says.” Her eyes got big. “Wait! Look.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a recorder. “I was going to use this tonight on her. I’ll play it for you in the car.”

Matt and I shared a look.

Should we? But then the elevator suddenly stopped. The doors opened, and it wasn’t the right floor, but Fitz and Scott were both there. Both were glaring. Both stepped inside. The doors closed again, and yeah.

We were in trouble.





TWENTY-NINE

Kash


“They’re there right now?”

Scott was giving me the latest report on Team Batt. It wasn’t good.

He sounded frustrated. “I’m sorry. This is not professional of me, but Bailey and Matt are insane. They’re out of control. We have no idea how they got their hands on it, but they got Quinn’s phone and Bailey hacked it. Somehow that led them to this hotel, and we’re sitting there, assuming they’re doing the same thing they did at Octavo—letting loose in an establishment you don’t own—until Quinn’s sister swoops in. Matt takes off after her. Bailey darts after them, stops, and Matt yells at her. She jumps in the elevator with them and up they zoom. We’re currently holed up in a hallway below where Quinn’s sister was going to meet Quinn, and Bailey and Matt are huddling over some listening device. Every time we step close, they move away. We can’t force them anywhere, but they’re not letting us get close enough to overhear. I repeat,” he said, extremely frustrated, “Bailey and her brother are out of control.” He took a breath. “What’s next? Getting arrested so we can protect them inside jail? I would not be surprised if somehow Quinn gets word what they did and sends patrol units to the Chesapeake.”

I needed a minute to process all of that.

Processing done. I’d be shooting Matt in the ass at some point in the future.

“I’m coming back. Again.”

Josh whirled back to me. He’d been stretching. “What?”

Scott got quiet on his end.

“I’ll return with Drake. The rest will stay”—I was half speaking to Josh now—“and will take the meet with Harden, because he finally reached out.”

Josh cursed, shaking his head. “He’s going to be pissed you aren’t there.”

“Tough.”

“Huh?” Scott asked.

“Not you. I’ll do an international flight to the States. Get one of the jets up and going. Have it meet me in San Antonio.”

“The last I heard, you were in North Carolina.”

“That was two days ago. We’re in Colombia now.”

Scott fell silent again.

“You can coordinate from there,” I commanded, before I hung up and put the phone in my pocket.

“We just landed. Ten minutes ago,” Josh said.

“Drake!” I motioned to him. “Grab your bag.”

He bent, grabbing his duffel. I was going through my own, because flying on normal planes meant stricter rules.

“Boss.” Josh stepped to me, his boots on the ground next to my bag. “Kash.”

I looked up, my hand going into my duffel. “What?”

“Harden specifically asked for an in-person meet. This has to do with your grandfather. If he is isolated, you can just finish him tonight. We can have this all done tonight. We can all be flying back. Give it twenty-four hours.”

I shook my head. “You heard Scott. I’ve given you guys strict orders not to force any of your charges to do something against their will. I am firm on that line, so that means someone has to talk sense into both of them. We’re not just dealing with Bailey here. This is Matt. I love the guy, but Scott’s not wrong. Matt will get her arrested if they’re as out of control as he’s saying. I don’t want my woman behind bars.”

Drake was looking between us.

I motioned to him. “We’re flying back commercial.”

“Commercial?”

I nodded. He knew what that meant, and right then and there, both of us pulled out our guns, our knives, and any other weapons we had. All were handed over to Josh, who was glaring at first. A second later, he relented with a grumble. “This is stupid.” But he took the weapons, finding room in his duffel for each one.

We handed the chambers over next.

Same thing. They were put inside his duffel bag, too.

Drake and I went through our bags one more time to ensure we wouldn’t get pulled over or questioned in customs.

I looked over. “Passport?”

Drake froze, then expelled a deep pocket of air. He patted his top breast pocket. “I almost thought I hadn’t brought it.” He pulled it out. “All good to go.”

Mine was in my inside pocket.

“Okay.” I nodded to Josh. “You’re in charge. Keep in contact. I want to know what’s happening on this end.”