Chapter Nineteen

NINETEEN

Azelie knew she was in trouble. Real trouble. Alan Billows was smoldering with fury. He'd burst into her apartment, strode across the small space and punched her right in the face before she could even speak. Her cheekbone felt as if it had exploded. She had the presence of mind to hang on to her phone as she went down. He kicked her twice in the thigh, deadening her leg, but she managed to get a short message to Andrii, hoping he understood her 911. Billows ripped the phone from her hand and flung it across the room before dragging her up by her hair.

To her absolute horror, when he pulled her down the stairs to the street, he pressed a gun to her neck. Instantly, memories of bullets tearing into her sister, niece and nephew flooded her mind. She could feel the shock and pain of the three bullets smashing into her chest all over again. The memories were vivid. Terrifying.

Azelie was certain Billows was so incredibly angry that he would pull the trigger before he told her what was happening. She sent up a silent prayer that Andrii was safe. He shoved her into a black SUV and climbed into the back seat after her. The driver turned his head, and to her horror, there was a second Billows at the wheel. Twins.

She pressed her lips together to keep from saying a word. That there were two of them certainly explained the mood swings and personality changes. It was no wonder she could never figure Billows out completely.

"Who did you give your key to?" Billows roared the question in her ear, his fingers biting into her arms as he shook her.

The driver floored the vehicle, muttering a curse under his breath. "Several of the people from the apartment saw you put her in the car, Derrick."

"I don't give a rat's ass who saw me," Derrick Billows snapped, giving her another shake. "There was no other way for anyone to get into the maze or tunnels. It had to be her, Patrick."

Patrick? For a moment she couldn't think, and then it hit her. Alan had distinctive personalities. She'd even considered the possibility of him having some disorder.

"Where's Alan?" She sounded like a forlorn frog croaking.

Derrick shook her again, this time hard enough that her head hurt. "Not here. Dead, you bitch. As if you didn't know."

She gasped in alarm. Triplets. Three, not two. Why hadn't she figured that out? Alan hadn't known how much money she made. He kept acting as if they were going to be a couple. He treated her differently than either Patrick or Derrick. Clearly, Derrick didn't have social skills and didn't want to have them. He was vicious and cruel, most likely the one she'd observed being abrupt and rude to his employees. Patrick had to be the charming one, who went out on dates with known celebrities and influential politicians. He enjoyed mingling with those in positions of power. Each of the triplets had played a role in their rise in money and influence.

"Alan's dead?" she echoed. Derrick would never believe her, but she had a slight chance with Patrick. "But he… we…" She trailed off and pressed her fingertips to her mouth. She didn't have to fake fear or the tears in her eyes. She didn't want to appear defiant, but rather as if the news had crushed her.

Patrick glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "How did someone get your key, Azelie?"

She shook her head, allowing tears to track down her face. "I always put it in the same spot, that tiny knot in the wooden panel. I've never carried it out of the building. Not once. I thought it was safe with Bobby and whoever the security guard is in front of the door." She sobbed again and ducked her head. "It doesn't make sense that someone would know where my key was hidden. Alan is the only one who knew."

"We knew," Patrick declared. "I personally showed the knot to you."

"You're right, you little slut. No one else knew, but they used your key to get in," Derrick snapped. His fingers were vicious, biting into her arm. She would worry about bruises later; right now she had to think about how she was going to stay alive.

"How do you know Alan's dead?" she whispered. "Maybe he's not. Maybe he's at home." Her voice shook naturally from fear and stress. The hope she poured into it was acting. She knew Alan had to be dead for his brothers to act the way they were. They had to have seen him. Did that mean Andrii had killed him? Were they aware of Andrii? She was certain they were going to kill her. She might have had a chance with Patrick but not with Derrick. He was still in a killing rage.

"We saw his body and what those fuckers did to him before he died," Derrick snarled. "If you had anything to do with this, every single thing done to him I'm going to do to you. I know ways to keep you alive even when you're begging for death."

"Why would I want Alan dead?" That seemed like a fair enough question. "None of this makes any sense." She wailed the last, sounding scared and bereft.

"You tell me why you would want my brother dead," Derrick demanded. "He was pissed as hell on your behalf when you went running to him about not getting enough money. Every chance he got he stood up for you, but you turned on him. Was it because you saw Patrick at the club, and he was with someone else? You got jealous and had him killed?"

"You're absolutely crazy to think that," she whispered. "Insane."

Derrick slapped her right on the same cheek where he'd punched her earlier. Her face felt like it had exploded. She didn't make a sound. Even her tears stopped. She might know it was prudent to be scared and give them anything they wanted—as long as it wasn't Andrii—but all Derrick was doing was making her want to fight back.

"Derrick." Patrick's tone was cautionary. Reasonable. "We're coming up on the club. I've beefed up security on the outside and closed both Pleasure Train and Adventure for the rest of the week. We need to find out who our enemies are and take them out before we reopen. No one else has been down in the offices."

The fact that Patrick used the term offices gave her a tiny bit of hope. He was still trying to act as if things were more normal than they were.

"We know someone stole our money. She does the books," Derrick said, but he sounded less threatening.

"We can talk about that when we're inside," Patrick said. He drove the SUV up close to the private employee entrance.

When Derrick hauled her none too gently out of the vehicle, she caught sight of three guards in uniform as the two Billows men took her straight up to the door and unlocked it. Derrick slammed it closed on the startled faces of the guards and went straight to the knot where her key should have been. It wasn't there.

"They may have to disappear," Derrick announced as he shoved Azelie down the hall toward the door leading down to the offices.

He said it so casually she realized that for Derrick, making people disappear was commonplace. It also meant that those three guards had seen her with Derrick and Patrick. They would remember if she disappeared and the cops went looking for her. His statement made her believe they were going to kill her; otherwise why threaten perfectly innocent security guards? Also, the fingers surrounding her bicep were biting into her flesh viciously. Derrick was deliberately inflicting pain.

Azelie refused to give Derrick the satisfaction of her crying out in pain, nor did she try to fight as they took her down the stairs to the rooms below. Instead of taking her into her appointed office, they hurried her along the same corridor she had taken to try to find the woman screaming out in agony so many months earlier. She thought about the woman now. Which of the triplets had come out to confront her? Someone, maybe all of them, had been with that woman, and they'd hurt her. Maybe killed her. She felt terrible that she'd let that woman down.

Derrick opened the lock in the wooden panel and marched her down the corridor until they came to a room with an open door. She smelled blood. He shoved her inside and snapped on a bright overhead light. The bodies of two men lay like broken life-sized dolls in one corner. Close to the center of the room, Bobby Aspen lay next to Andrew McGrady. McGrady had clearly been tortured before he died, while the two men in the corner and Bobby appeared to have been killed quickly.

Derrick gripped her arm and forced her forward, stepping right into blood on the floor. Blood and fingers. Her stomach lurched as he stopped, looming over the body in the center of the room. Alan Billows had been tortured too, but what he'd gone through looked to be far worse than what McGrady had been put through. It was Billows' fingers strewn all over the floor. Whoever had tortured Billows knew what they were doing. She tried to drown out Andrii's voice telling her he was a trained assassin. He had learned how to take people apart at an early age. She found herself praying Andrii hadn't been the one to do this horrible, cruel thing to Billows.

"I'm going to be sick," she whispered.

"Be as sick as you want." Derrick was entirely unsympathetic.

Azelie didn't blame him. The man, who looked as if he'd been carved up like a turkey, was nearly unrecognizable, and he was their brother. She was positive they would kill her now. How could they not? She would want to kill someone who did that to someone she loved. She had to brace herself for what would come next. No matter what they did, she could never reveal her connection to Andrii.

There was a very uncomfortable chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, just behind Alan's body. It appeared as if he'd been in that chair when he was tortured. There was blood and what looked suspiciously like urine on and below it. Fingers were strewn on the floor around it.

Azelie tried to hold her breath so she wouldn't take in the horrendous stench. Derrick shoved her toward the chair, and for the first time she couldn't overcome her panic and horror. She struggled against him. There was nowhere to go, no possible way to run, but her fight instincts kicked in and she couldn't stop the hysteria welling up.

Derrick backhanded her, punched her stomach to double her over and slammed her into the chair. Azelie froze when her bottom landed on the seat, which was covered in the blood and urine of a dead man. Her stomach lurched again, protesting the smells and the vicious punch. She leaned over the steel arm of the chair and vomited.

Derrick swore and stepped back, but Patrick went to the sink, wet a cloth and brought it to her. He wiped her face with surprising gentleness.

"Derrick, cool off. We have no idea if Azelie is involved. It could be that someone took advantage of her. That man at the club, the one with your friend, do you go out with him?"

"No. I met him for the first time that night. He's Lana's brother. The only thing I know about him is that he works as a bartender. I don't even know where."

"How do you know Lana?"

"From school. She goes to the college and takes fashion design. We ride the bus together sometimes to get to the school. I had no idea her brother would be at the club, but she told me he's older than she is and is protective of her."

"What about your good friend Bradley Tudor? Could he have found out about the key?"

She realized everyone she knew was going to be in trouble. The merry widows, Doug and Carlton, Shaila and David, maybe even Abigail Humphrey and her little three-year-old daughter, Betsy. All because she worked for Billows.

"He doesn't even know where I work. I babysit his kids when his regular babysitter has appointments or is ill. Otherwise, we don't really associate at all."

The surveillance Alan had put on her in the form of McGrady would bear that out. He had to have reported to the Billows brothers. All of them. He might not have known there was more than one, but surely over the time he watched her, more than Alan had gotten a report.

Derrick pushed forward. "This is bullshit, Patrick. She knows more than she's saying. Don't fall for her sweet little innocent act the way Alan did. Look at him, his guts spilling out of his body. He didn't deserve that."

He stepped around his brother and hit her in the face again, the same cheek, this time splitting open the skin. He punched her breast hard. There was no way to stop the cry of pain as agony exploded through her body.

"Talk, you little bitch. You have no idea what's coming."

She could barely see him through the veil of tears, but it was just as well. What she did see appeared to be his features twisted into a demonic mask. That added to her mounting terror. She was going to die a terrible death. She prayed she would just become unconscious and they would kill her outright.

"Derrick." Patrick sounded like the voice of reason. "Back off. We were getting somewhere, weren't we, Azelie? You want to tell us the truth. You cared a great deal for Alan. Anyone could see it. He was always loyal to you, trying to make certain you were safe. He was so enraged when he found out McGrady hit you. And threatened you." He gestured toward McGrady's body. "That was done for you. Because McGrady dared to strike you."

It hadn't been Andrii who had done those terrible things to McGrady. Could she honestly say she was sorry McGrady was dead? No. He'd threatened the merry widows and Doug and Carlton. He'd threatened her. But did she want him to die in such a hideous way? No.

A small sob escaped before she could stop it. Her gaze clung to Patrick's. She knew what the brothers were doing. One was good, the other bad. They would play her like this, one giving hope, the other taking it away. She reminded herself over and over, a chant in her mind, not to believe in Patrick. He had no intention of saving her.

"You knew someone stole from us." Patrick made it a statement, switching subjects. "Alan said you believed it was an elite hacker, someone who may have been hired to harm us. He said you were still going through the books looking for a lead. Did you find one?"

Her mind was in complete chaos from sheer terror. If she was going to stall in the hopes of being rescued, although she had no idea how she would be rescued or who would rescue her, she had to pull herself together. Her body was almost numb from the blows Derrick had delivered. She realized he could have hit her a lot harder. He knew where to strike her to scare her, humiliate her and cause pain without damaging her. That only reinforced the possibility Andrii had raised that they were involved in human trafficking.

She took a deep breath, but that only dragged the stench into her lungs. She felt like her entire body was covered in blood, sweat and urine from the dead in the room. Now that coating was inside of her, where she would never get it out.

"I was still searching." Was that even her voice? "You have a lot of business associates. Alan was going through them with me to tell me which were the most likely to be able to hire that kind of hacker. It would take a lot of money. I don't know any of his—your—associates personally. Alan didn't want me around them."

"But you did meet a few," Patrick persisted. "Derrick brought them into your office."

It made sense that it had been Derrick, not Alan, who had allowed the men into her office. Alan had always been adamant that she stay out of sight. It hadn't made sense to her at the time. Now she could see Derrick doing it, mostly as a silent threat.

Her biggest fear was that she would inadvertently blurt out Andrii's name if she became too disoriented. He would come for her. She knew he would. He would have no idea that Alan was one of triplets or that his brothers were even more vicious and cruel than he had been. Andrii believed himself capable of handling men like the Billows triplets, but he didn't have all the facts. She didn't want him to come, as much as she needed to believe he would.

Now she was even more afraid for Andrii. He would come, and she didn't want him to. She prayed he wouldn't find a way in. These vicious men would kill him for certain.

***

"We run this by the numbers, like any other rescue mission," Steele said before Maestro could leap from the truck.

"Then fuckin' get the numbers down," Maestro said. Code had provided them with feed from the cameras he'd tapped into. "She's a mess. You know they're going to kill her."

He glanced at Savage and Destroyer. Killing wasn't the worst that was going to happen to her. The blows she'd been receiving were nothing compared to what was coming. Derrick would inflict more pain and damage, and Patrick would act as if he were trying to calm his brother. It was a method used often in the trafficking business to force their victims into cooperation. It was possible they would even use drugs on Azelie.

"The guards outside the club must be taken out. Code said they were hired from a private security company, which means they aren't part of the Billows' business. Some may be, but you can't take the chance. That means put them out, but no kills unless you have no choice."

Maestro's hand tightened on the door handle. "We know the rules of engagement. Every second we're waiting is time they have with her."

Steele ignored him. It was stating the obvious, and Maestro knew it wasn't Steele's fault. He was team leader and responsible for the safety of every member of his team. Steele had felt the same anxiety when his son had been kidnapped. Steele was right: they had to keep the team safe, or they wouldn't be any good to Azelie.

"Sorry, Steele." He rubbed his chest, over his heart. "We're coming, sweetheart. Have faith that we're coming for you," he added, murmuring aloud.

"Code says she hasn't so much as whispered your name, Andrii," Lana said. "She's going to protect you. She was dismissive of Preacher as well, as if he couldn't possibly have anything to do with this."

"She knows what's coming, and she still won't give you up," Savage said. He looked over Maestro's shoulder to the quick sketches Steele had thrown up on the screen, giving them their assignments.

"What are we going to do about Doug, Carlton and the widows?" Keys asked. "They're in the way, and they aren't about to leave without seeing that Azelie is safe."

"Let them distract the guards," Maestro suggested. "Those three women can talk the ears off of anyone. They can be an asset if they're told what to do to keep safe."

"I'm on it," Lana said. "They've seen me."

"Need you protecting our people," Steele reminded her.

"It won't take but a moment," Lana assured him. "Give me three minutes with them and then I'll go high."

"Grateful, Lana," Maestro said. "Those five are her family, or as close as she's got. They matter to her."

"Parsons and Gray were a big deal in the military," Code said. "I could hack into their records, but most of it will be redacted. Even so, I don't need to see the records to be aware they know what they're doing. They might have gotten old, but don't discount them. They can be lethal. Penny is the daughter of a cop. After he died, she spent years on the shooting range at her mother's insistence. The other two, the Christian sisters, lived with them. I'll bet both have concealed carry permits. I haven't checked, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"Let's do this," Steele said. "Be safe, but you bring her back to us. We don't need information from either of those men. Get in, take them out, and get Azelie out of there. Be mindful that either or both of those men could have a manual switch to the bombs. We haven't pulled the plug on them yet. I figured it would be better for the cops to find everything intact."

Maestro flung the door open and leapt out, ducking as he ran toward the tunnel entrance. Keys, Master and Player were right there with him, spreading out, running the way they had on so many missions. Reminiscent of a wolf pack. That was Czar's teaching. He'd taught them to be wolves, to work together to bring down prey.

They made no sound as they moved through the grass, brush and rocks toward the tunnel entrance. Maestro was lead. Two guards were stationed on either side of the entrance. Neither wore the security company jackets with the logo that would have told him they were recently hired. The Billows brothers hadn't taken any chances with their tunnel. They were using their own men to guard it.

Two guards outside, and they're on full alert. They're not rentals , he warned the others.

Keys, get close enough when the guards are taken down to vet the tunnel entrance inside , Steele cautioned.

Maestro detested that Keys would be in harm's way. As an asset, he was worth his weight in gold. But he was also Maestro's closest brother.

Maestro went down onto his belly and dug his elbows and toes into the ground to propel himself forward, staying low as he stalked his prey through the brush. He'd learned the maneuver from his childhood, when it was always life or death if there was a whisper of sound. A grass blade moving or a rock disturbed could earn a vicious beating with a whip, not just for him, but for the other members of his team. As children without medical aid and living in dirty conditions with rats and insects, always cold, the more they had open wounds, the more likely it was that someone would die. Maestro, like his other team members, had learned to move through the brush without detection.

He used the stalk of a leopard, moving and then freezing if his prey had looked toward him. The guard was a fairly large man, bulky in his oversized jacket. He carried a semiautomatic and had extra magazines strapped to his waist. A knife hung from his belt, blatantly large, the blade slightly curved. It was clear he meant business. He didn't smoke or pull out his phone. He was very much on alert.

"All clear, Dwayne," he reported to someone.

Someone has surveillance on these guards , Maestro said. Ink, we need eyes in the sky. He was frustrated that he couldn't just take the guard out. He was only a few feet from him, but someone was watching over them. The moment he killed the first guard, the Billows brothers would be alerted, as would any other guards on the property.

"Check in with Bam-Bam, Conway," came the terse reply.

Ink was their go-to man if they needed aid from birds or other animals. He had a way of connecting with them that, again, like Keys' talent, Maestro had no understanding of how it worked. But his gift was valuable and had saved them many times as children. He'd been instrumental in shielding Steele's young son, Zane, during their rescue of the child.

The flutter of wings heralded an owl swooping low, skimming along the grass, talons stretched toward the earth. The bird seemed to come out of nowhere and was large, like most of the great horned owls. With its four-and-a-half-foot wingspan and the shape of its wings and softly fringed feathers, the bird could fly in near silence. This great horned owl was gray and white in coloring, making it appear to materialize out of the San Francisco fog, looking for all the world like an apparition. With the large tufts on its head resembling horns, round yellow eyes and wicked beak, the predator was unnerving.

The owl streaked, talons outstretched, looking to lock on to prey hidden in the grass close to Conway's feet. Conway swore, stumbling back as the owl pulled up and seemed to fade into the fog.

"Did you see that?" The guard sounded shaken.

"Yeah, what the hell just happened?" Dwayne demanded.

The team leader is sitting in the oak tree, the tallest one, with the bent, twisted branches , Ink reported.

I'm on it , Preacher said. Give me a couple of minutes.

"Did you see that owl, Bam-Bam?" Conway asked, apparently shaken. He rubbed one hand up and down his thigh. "I nearly pissed myself."

The second guard, pacing just outside the entrance, gave a sneering laugh. "You sound like a girl, Conway."

Conway swore at Bam-Bam but then laughed. "I wish I had my phone out and got a picture of it coming out of the fog."

Dwayne is down , Preacher advised. You're clear to go.

Maestro didn't wait. On three. He didn't have to look. He knew Keys was in position. They'd run this particular drill hundreds of times. He rose up, slashing with his knife, severing the arteries in the thighs, groin and under the arms in less than a second, slamming one hand over Conway's mouth to prevent him from crying out. Maestro lowered him to the ground, stripping away the gun. Keys had mirrored his actions with Bam-Bam and was already hurrying away from the body to approach the actual entrance to the tunnel.

Maestro covered him as Keys ducked inside the darkened passageway and approached the door that had been built to block entry. Keys held up his hand and then held up two fingers.

Two just inside, but I feel the presence of more. We're going to have to take them down fast, so the others hidden along the corridor won't be alerted.

Maestro swore under his breath. It stood to reason that the Billows brothers had secreted their own men inside the tunnel rather than have them patrolling the grounds of the club. The rented security was for show only and to create a distraction if any rescue party showed up.

The second we go through that door, we'll have to kill them both , Maestro said. Give me the exact position of both men. They can't have time to get a warning off.

Keys stood in silence for what seemed an eternity to Maestro before finally nodding. One is taller than the other by quite a bit. He's on the left side of the corridor leaning against the wall. His back is to us. The other is sitting, but I can tell he's very slight. His chair has been turned partially toward the other man. The one sitting is older, and he keeps moving like his hip hurts. He's the one I'm worried about. If he moves when we go through the door, you're going to miss.

I won't miss. Azelie's life depends on a clean throw. Maestro was confident because he had to be. This would be the most important throw of his life. He had to make that blade fly true. There was no room for error. He had no doubt that if Billows was sent an alarm, he would kill Azelie. Give me the exact coordinates again. Once I have them, we go in fast. No hesitation. He couldn't afford for his target to shift positions.

Keys waited, hands toward the door, and then he told Maestro exactly at what angle the guard was leaning. Maestro had already unlocked the door in preparation. He shoved inside and threw three knives in rapid succession. Simultaneously, Keys rolled into the tunnel to come up directly behind the taller guard. He slammed his blade hard into the back of the guard's neck, severing the spinal cord.

Maestro followed his knives to his target to ensure the man was dead. He was gone, his eyes wide open. Maestro retrieved his blades, wiping the blood on the guard's clothing. Keys was already moving down the tunnel at a rapid pace but stopping at each door along the way, checking either side. They were halfway to the room where McGrady had died when Keys signaled that the rooms on either side of the corridor were occupied.

Another delay. Another possible alarm for Billows. Maestro shared a long look with Keys. He indicated the door on the left side of the hall. He held up three fingers, bent down and drew stick figures in the dirt, marking the position of all three precisely. He drew them in chairs seated around a small table.

Cards. He circled one of the chairs and the stick figure. I'll take this one. You take the one on the end. We'll both go for the guy in the middle.

Three. That would take precision kills. Maestro's target was the farthest from the door, but he had skills when it came to throwing a knife. He planned out his attack, going through the moves in his mind. It was imperative to take out his first target immediately and hit the second one before he could react. He had to be fast. Very fast. There were men in the room directly across the hall. There couldn't be a sound, certainly not a gunshot. That meant the men at the card table had to die before they were aware they were under attack.

Once more, Maestro went over each move in his mind before he signaled to Keys it was a go. It was Keys who shoved the door open, giving Maestro the momentum of his throw. The easiest and best results when throwing a knife came from being square with your target, stationary, feet planted, shoulders pointed toward the target, elbows tucked and wrist locked. Follow-through was extremely important.

Maestro had practiced thousands of hours, throwing on the run. Each step was calculated, his feet squaring his shoulders in the perfect placement to his target. He had force behind his throw, so the blade penetrated the neck, slicing through the artery. He was throwing the second knife before the first had struck his target. He hadn't dared to slow down; he had to reach his prey before either could recover from their shock enough to attempt to raise a gun or shout for help.

Normally, if the carotid artery was severed, it would take only five to fifteen seconds for death to occur. It was the one target Maestro practiced nearly daily to hit with efficiency. The artery was only one and a half inches below the skin. He didn't have to carry huge knives to get the job done. He simply had to be accurate and extremely fast.

Keys had taken his man out as well, and the two of them left the dead behind, closing the door after themselves. Keys immediately went to the door across the hall, holding his palms close to the wood and dirt.

Code fed them information. I had to dig deep to find evidence of triplets. They weren't born in the United States. Their parents were from here, but their mother went to Haiti to have them. She left their father and joined a cult, very enamored with the leader of the new religion. Her husband fought for the children, but he had ties to the local Mafia, and she claimed he beat her. She stayed in Haiti with the cult leader, a man who called himself Seradieu, which means "will be God."

You can guess how those kids were treated, and the mother allowed it. She died under suspicious circumstances, and they came back to live with their father. That's how they got into this business they're in. By the time they came to the States, they were in their teens and already pretending to be one person. Their father left his estate to Alan Billows, his only son. He went along with their deception.

Keys held up his two fingers. Again, he drew stick figures in the dirt, positioning them exactly.

Maestro didn't care about the information Code had given him on the Billows brothers. He didn't need to know what had made them into monsters, he only knew they were monsters. Every member of Torpedo Ink had been tortured, had had family members murdered, had been subjected to physical, emotional, mental and sexual abuse. They didn't traffic other human beings for money. They didn't harm children. They were men and women who could shut off emotions and kill, but they didn't kill indiscriminately. They had a code and they stuck to it. What Maestro cared about was getting to his woman and freeing her from monsters.

Two men were quite a bit easier to take down than three, but there could be no misses, no warning shots.

Get a move on. Code's voice was tight. Derrick Billows is getting seriously ugly with Azelie. She isn't giving you up, Maestro. She didn't even throw Preacher or Widow under the bus. She's taking everything they're dishing out and looking innocent as hell. I'd believe her.

Maestro didn't give a rat's ass if the world believed her. The Billows brothers weren't going to stop torturing her until she was dead. They had to kill her. They could never trust that she wouldn't turn on them, not after the things they were doing to her.

He signaled Keys, pushed open the door and threw his knives, a quick one-two, killing both men before Keys could get into the room. He retrieved his knives, made certain both men were dead and hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Go, Keys, fast.

You go ahead of me, and I'll check the doors leading to the room where she is , Keys said.

I'm in, coming up behind you , Player said. I'll back up Keys. You go, Maestro.

The fact that Steele had changed the plan meant the situation was dire. Maestro sprinted through the tunnel, not making noise, but only because it had been ingrained in him not to. He trusted Keys and Player to have his back.

The door to the room where McGrady had been killed and Alan Billows interrogated was cracked open. He could hear the agony in Azelie's voice as she tried to answer multiple questions Derrick shouted at her. Patrick's voice was more calming, encouraging her to answer. He knew Azelie. She wasn't thinking about answers to their questions. Uppermost in her mind was protecting the people she loved. He was one of those people.

Derrick made it impossible for her to answer. His purpose was to terrorize her, and he was doing so in a vicious, cruel way. The man had a knife in his fist, and the blade was bloody. Maestro didn't make the mistake of looking at Azelie to assess the damage. There were two men assaulting her, and both were dangerous. Both were close to her. She couldn't dive out of the chair, even if he shouted to her. Her wrists were zip-tied to the arms of the chair. There were blood and fingers on the floor around the chair. His heart dropped.

He pulled a gun from his belt and took aim at Derrick, going through the second shot to Patrick over and over in his mind until he could will the bullet to hit exactly where he needed it to. Both men were likely to have a manual switch to activate the bombs and blow up the building. They'd do so without hesitation if they knew they were dying.

He moved to the right of the door to keep Azelie from the line of fire, squeezed the trigger and shifted aim to Patrick, firing a second bullet. He followed the shots with two more to ensure both men were dead. As he fired the second rounds, he sprinted across the room to Azelie.

He wouldn't have recognized her swollen, bruised face. Both eyes were nearly closed, and her lips were cut. Derrick had used his knife to cut into her thighs, slashing lacerations into the muscles.

"I'm here, Solnyshkuh . You're safe." She'll need your skills, Steele. He beat the shit out of her, but he also cut her with a knife several times. Thighs. Maestro cut through the zip ties to free her wrists. "Stay still, baby. I've got you now."

The sound of gunshots had her crying out, her fingers forming a fist in his shirt, holding on tightly.

"The boys have this," he said with total confidence. "They're mopping up, clearing the way to get you out of here." While he assured her, he turned his body slightly to make certain he blocked her from the door while he inspected the wounds in her thighs.

Arterial blood?

No, not deep, just quite a few. He cut the muscle in both thighs. I doubt she could get far if by a miracle she got away.

He lifted her, cradling her close, whispering how sorry he was that he was hurting her. It didn't matter that she was covered in blood, urine and sweat. He'd grown up with open wounds and the disturbing physical ramifications of torture on the human body. It sucked that he was well versed in those things, but right now, when his woman needed comfort and care, he knew the right things to say and do.

Keys and Player met him at the door. Keys led the way back through the tunnel at a run, Maestro following smoothly and Player bringing up the rear. Steele waited in a van, his medical bag already open. He had treated hundreds of children, teens, men and women for the types of wounds and trauma that Azelie had experienced.

Maestro climbed in beside her, retaining possession of her hand. "Steele's got you, babe. I'm right here and you're safe."