Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

B eckham

"What are you going to do about the studio?" Jeff asked. He was driving, tossing a look over his shoulder at me in the passenger seat.

"It'll be rebuilt. What else? We have insurance." I was leaning my elbow against the door, rubbing my finger back and forth across my bottom lip, still bothered by what we'd experienced. Killing the men had been all too easy, just like finding them had been. As if we'd been lured to the location.

Yes, we had the best informants in the business, but my instinct was screaming.

That usually meant violence would follow.

And that wasn't good for anyone.

I was rarely wrong, my father often chiding me for nagging him. I had since I'd been a kid. My mother had always called it my sixth sense. My sister said I had precognitive powers. Whatever the case, even my skin was itching tonight. I glanced into the side mirror, loathing the fact we weren't on a main road just yet. We'd flown into a small private airport we'd never used instead of driving the three hours.

Time had seemed of the essence, the folks at the tiny terminal more than helpful. That should have bothered me as well.

However, everything had gone as planned. We'd enjoyed a couple of drinks without incident, not a single person even looking at us crossly.

"What's wrong?" Jeff asked quietly, acting as if he didn't want to alarm the two soldiers in back.

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

"Shit. I know what that means." He glanced into the rearview mirror, even speeding up. The road was curvy and within seconds, the tires squealed.

"No need to get us killed. We'll get there."

"Yeah, well, I took a different route on purpose just to be certain we weren't followed. The bartender told me about it. A shortcut to the remote POS airport anyway."

Jeff was a cautious man, which I appreciated. He was also a racecar worthy driver, the kind of man you wanted at the wheel in this kind of situation. I could no longer count how many times he'd saved my life just by knowing every route, every odd turn. And he could drive any vehicle as if he could corner them on rails.

I tried to get more comfortable in the rental vehicle, but the nagging refused to leave. "When we get back, I want a wide web tossed over the city and beyond. Someone heard or noticed something and they're either too stupid or too afraid to come forward." Nothing usually happened in my family's town without one of us being notified.

People were scared of us. They knew what we were capable of. In turn for them looking the other way and remaining obedient, we'd uplifted the economy significantly, providing jobs to thousands of people. That in turn had driven the tourist faction up by two hundred percent. New Hampshire had become a destination.

For everyone to go silent collectively meant they were terrified. Of what and whom? I'd taken a photo of the branding marks, but so far had yet to find anything useful. It could be a new cartel or another organization, but it continued to bug me. The enemy soldiers had all been dressed alike, carrying the same weapons. Hell, they even looked alike, as if they were clones. It was ridiculous but noteworthy. I'd even called one of my brothers to try to check into whether there was a new group we should be worried about.

"Why hit the recording studio, boss?" James asked from the back.

"To make a statement that they could get to us any time and any way they wanted." Which was true in my mind.

"Who are they? Any idea?" Camden threw in, although my guess is he already knew the answer.

"I wish I did." I took a deep breath, glancing at my watch. It was already twilight, full darkness only minutes away. I hated flying at night. It had to do with a plane crash into the Atlantic when I'd been ten. It had taken me six years to get over the nightmares.

Jeff sucked in his breath minutes later, making an unexpected turn.

"What are you doing?" I pushed. "And where are we going?"

"See the headlights? I'm ensuring we aren't being followed."

I glanced into the passenger mirror before turning around. The driver was currently keeping a respectable distance, but we'd seen so few people on this road, I knew why he was concerned.

When the two of us noticed the driver also made the turn, I immediately pulled out my weapon.

"Shit. I might need to head into Camden," Jeff growled at the same time I noticed the sign indicating we were a couple of miles away.

"Hey, my namesake," Camden laughed from behind. "Story has it my parents conceived me in a quaint bed and breakfast right at the shore. Beautiful story."

"Yeah, well, maybe you can show us around your spawning place another time." There was no doubt the vehicle behind us was speeding up. So was Jeff, now flying around the curves.

I threw open the side compartment between the driver and passenger seats, finding what I was looking for. A single flashlight. "Slow down a little bit. I want to see what they do," I told him.

"You sure, boss?" he barked.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I watched the side-view mirror carefully. Almost at the same time the driver slowed, as if he or she knew what speed we were going.

"It looks like your instincts were right. Shit." Jeff slammed his hand against the steering wheel three times.

"Don't break the rental car," I grumbled. "Get ready just in case. I have a bad feeling things are about to get dicey."

Everyone had a weapon in their hand and within seconds, the vehicle behind us was speeding up again. And wouldn't you know it? Shots were fired.

"What the fuck?" James exclaimed.

Jeff swerved back and forth on the road, narrowly avoiding driving into a ditch. At least the bullets hadn't penetrated the hull. The one real advantage of using our own vehicles was that a solid portion of each one had been made mostly bulletproof. That prevented a random strike in the middle of a beautiful afternoon. But getting a rental car was dicey as fuck and not something I liked to do.

Being shot at was something our family hadn't experienced in a long time. Why now? We weren't suddenly getting into the political arena. We were simply good folks trying to make a living. I was able to grin at the thought.

"Par for the course." I unrolled the window, studying how fast the unwanted visitors were going. "Allow them to gain on us."

"You like rolling the dice, boss man," Jeff teased.

Yeah, I often did. The fact whoever the assailant was had managed to tail us meant they'd been watching us every step of the way. It was quite possible they'd been at the bar.

I shoved half my body out the window, pointing not only my weapon but the flashlight beam toward the driver.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

At least one bullet hit their vehicle, maybe two. The driver swerved as we'd done, and I noticed at least three people in the vehicle. Thankfully, the odds were in our favor. I fired off two more rounds as Jeff sped up then slowed down, just as he'd trained himself to do.

When I popped off three more shots, one hitting directly in the windshield, I hissed. But that's the moment one of the bastards appeared from the passenger window. He had something in his hands.

I shifted the beam of light and groaned. "Speed up, Dale Earnhardt. Drive like the wind. When you manage to lose them for a second, find a place to pull over. Fast."

"What?"

"Do it now!" The fuckers had a bazooka-style weapon, which would blow the SUV into a million pieces.

Jeff careened around a corner, flooring it to get some distance then heading off road. When he slammed on the brakes, there was a collective moan from two others in the vehicle. He went off road onto a gravel driveway. How the hell had the man seen it? I was just grateful he had.

"Get out. Get out. Get out!" I yelled, not wasting any time to throw open the doors. As soon as we all jumped out, I heard the whistling sound as the launch ensued.

We'd had not a second to spare, the missile hitting its target.

The explosion was immediate and powerful, pitching all four of us into the surrounding trees. I rolled several times, the flashlight flying from my fingers, before being slammed against a tree, jarred but completely in control of my senses. Thankfully, my weapon was still firmly planted in one hand. When I heard a screech of tires as the driver slammed to a stop, I did what I could to jerk to a standing position. "Kill the motherfuckers."

Pain racked my body, but I refused to be held back, stumbling into the road along with at least two of my other men. The vehicle with the wretched bastards had flown past, skidding to a stop, their engine idling. I wasn't in the mood to waste a single second. I held the weapon in both hands, taking long strides in the dark toward the assholes, not hesitating to fire at will.

So did Jeff and Camden, both my soldiers flanking my sides.

Camden was even more of an expert marksman than I was, firing off enough shots that within seconds the windshield had been completely shattered, the vehicle itself riddled in bullets.

There was no movement inside the vehicle from what I could tell but that meant shit to me. You never walked away from a man with a gun until you saw the whites of his eyes.

Refusing to back down, I advanced. As soon as I reached the oversized SUV, I threw open the driver's door. That's when I noticed blood covered the windshield, a large hole in the head of the man in the driver's seat.

Camden threw open one of the other doors, checking the two men's pulses.

"They're dead," he said. He had a flashlight of his own, shining the beam from one side of the vehicle to the other. "Same branding as the others. What the fuck is this shit?"

"What the fuck is that ticking sound?" Jeff asked.

This was likely just another lure to a fiery death.

I homed in on what he was talking about, half laughing. "Back away. The fucker is about to blow." We ran in the opposite direction, but I stopped and turned back toward the spectacle seconds before another massive explosion rocked the countryside. I lifted my head, watching as the flames licked toward the star-filled sky.

"Jesus Christ. What the hell?" James asked as he finally lumbered beside me.

The entire night sky was lit up by the explosion, which allowed me to see the poor guy had blood covering half his face. It was impossible not to laugh. "It's called a suicide mission."

"Who the fuck does that?" he pressed.

"The practice was done all the time not so long ago," Camden insisted. "They knew there was a chance they'd die."

"Well, how the fuck are we going to get out of here?" Jeff snarled. "On top of this shit, there's no phone reception."

This was the epitome of being caught with my pants down. I'd grown far too cocky in my time on this earth, especially during the last few years of increasing wealth. I'd lived a posh life even by rich men's standards, purchasing whatever toys I wanted on a whim.

Getting soft usually led to a higher chance of being killed. But something continued to nag at me. If the fuckers had wanted me dead, they seemed to have an endless supply of soldiers. Why not attack all at once?

They were probing me for weakness.

"We walk," I told them. "We find a place to hole up for the night and regroup. Then we begin a hunt."

Kenya

I continued glaring at the sky even after the two bright orange balls had faded. Even though the property was surrounded by trees, the explosions had been powerful enough both had lit up the sky. Jesus. What the hell had gone on out there?

After taking another sip of wine, I adjusted the flow of bubbles and eased back against the hot tub's side, trying to imagine what had caused the horrific gas explosion. How horrible for the people living or working there.

The community was small. We'd rally around whoever it was to try to help them as much as we could. That's one reason I loved living in a small town. People cared, which was a far cry from living in New York where barely anyone knew your name and couldn't give a shit if you were hit by a stray bullet on the street.

Considered a summer tourist spot, the locals hunkered down during the fall and winter months. That was why this late spring and summer was so important. I had to bank my proceeds because winter meant fewer tourists.

The one thing I didn't like about living in a small town in the USA was that everyone knew everyone else's business. The baskets and cookie plates had been nice when I'd arrived in town, but I'd quickly learned the oh-so nice neighbors were simply trying to get the scoop.

My scoop was easy, but not scandalous.

Well, at least it hadn't been for the last few years and I refused to head back to the girl I'd once been. She was dead and buried.

Leave cheating boyfriend by the wayside—check.

Depart job that, while it had made me a lot of money, had been soulless—check.

Sell half my belongings, including the artsy-fartsy paintings I'd spent way too much money on—check and then some.

This was exactly where I was supposed to be.

To think the asshole of an ex had dared call me not once but three times.

Okay, it wasn't just because he'd been calling to apologize or crying the blues because he was missing me. It had been all about the items belonging to him I'd made a point of taking with me when I moved.

Including his prized record collection that he'd insisted be stored at my place.

Wasn't this far more luxurious than listening to his constant phone calls to his unscrupulous clients when we were supposed to have been out on a date?

Yep.

Hands down.

However, if I didn't climb out of the hot water, I was going to turn into a prune. Laughing, I eased my almost empty glass of wine onto the small table before turning off the jets. As the whirling began to subside, I relished the crisp air hitting my half naked body and the quiet peacefulness the area offered.

Other than the ocean waves crashing against the rocks below, the serenity was amazing. I grabbed my towel, drying off as I took a few seconds to glance toward the churning ocean. Yes, I had to admit it. Life was good. And yes, I had wallowed in self-pity for a while after arriving, but I was finished with that shit. I was stronger than that. Time to take some risks for a change.

I grabbed the big fluffy robe I'd purchased just for use after enjoying the bubbly water and slipped into it. I was more relaxed than I'd been in a long time and Janie was right. Second guessing myself wasn't doing me any good. Besides, at this point it wasn't necessary.

After turning off the spa altogether, tugging the cover over the top, I took a deep breath before grabbing my wine and heading inside.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I sensed something was off, my skin prickling because of it.

I wasn't necessarily prone to premonitions, but this go-around, the creepy crawlies were definitely trying to tell me something.

Like I wasn't alone.

Very carefully I placed the glass on the table before glancing around the entirety of the kitchen.

I'd even purchased a weapon, but this was a small town, for God's sake. It's not like I needed to always carry it around with me. Now, I regretted my decision. I was certain I'd locked the front door to keep unwanted potential guests from wondering in. I did get that from time to time. Had I left a window open? Was I losing my mind thinking someone was inside the house?

And if I grabbed a knife, brandishing it as I went to confront the possible unwanted guests, would I get a bad review on Yelp?

I silently laughed at the ridiculousness of my thoughts. Random ones usually formed when I was nervous. For some crazy reason, I felt as if I was prudent for feeling that way.

Trying to remain as quiet as a church mouse, I headed to the massive knife block. I wasn't certain what I would do with the weapon other than brandishing it as if I knew what I was doing. However, it gave me an odd feeling of comfort the moment I had the solid wooden handle in my hand. I noticed my cell phone was exactly where I'd placed it. Snagging it with my other hand, I decided it was best holding off calling the police for now.

The last thing I wanted was to be known for being a crackpot. That wouldn't bode well for obtaining new clients.

I tried to act as if I knew what it was like to be in stealth mode, moving slowly toward the main corridor attached to the foyer. Quivering, I held my breath as I walked toward the dining and living rooms. The massive dining room was equipped with several tables instead of one, a huge buffet filled in the morning with delicious foods for guests. There was no wayward homeless person or worse lurking inside.

When I heard something, a slight noise, I lost all hope I'd been losing my mind or hearing things. Now I was pissed. If some asshole had broken into my place of business, something I'd worked hard to improve, losing three months of my life to scrub and wash, decorate and design, I'd prosecute to the full extent of the law.

God help anyone who made a woman like me angry. The outcome was usually bloody. Sadly, I was shaking, the strangled breathing sounds slipping from my lips impossible to squelch. If the boogeyman was hiding in the living room, I was already a goner.

Yet I took what could be my last step inside and was immediately struck by the heavy load of testosterone in the room. Four gorgeous men were in position, three of them standing while the other appeared to be holding court in one of the leather chairs with a drink in his hand.

As if they owned the place.

Drinking my liquor from my bar that they obviously hadn't paid for.

While their appearance was disturbing enough, I was strangely drawn to the man sitting in the chair, his stunning good looks almost as shocking as the smudges of smoke on all four men.

But the man seated was obviously the one in charge, as comfortable as could be after breaking into my place of business.

As the three standing men turned in my direction, my attention wasn't drawn away from the gorgeous guy perched on his throne, my throne. With shaggy chocolate brown hair that appeared as if he'd just rolled out of bed, eyes the color of burnished whiskey, and a smile that could light the fires of every nun on the planet, he knew he was a charmer.

But that didn't deter the facts.

"You must be the owner of this fine establishment," leader boy said in a far too seductive voice that reminded me of refined velvet slipped over a leather sofa. The worst thing about the vision in front of me was that he had a weapon placed on his lap, easily accessible.

He wanted to ensure I knew he was in charge of the entire situation.

I gritted my teeth, giving him a nasty glare.

"I am and you boys are in the wrong place. I suggest you get out before I contact the police." I held up my cell phone, waving it back and forth. Dumb idea. Really dumb. The biggest of the other three immediately moved in my direction, making a tsking sound as he removed the phone from my hand, snapping his hand around the other before I had a chance to stab him in the chest.

The dude was stronger than an ox, his grin positively evil.

When the leader finally stood, slipping the weapon into his suit jacket, I threw out a couple of curse words.

"You're a fucking asshole son of a bitch if you think you're going to get away with this."

"Such a trashy mouth on a woman so beautiful." His grin was even wider as he swaggered toward me. One of his other men took the drink from his hand as if on cue. As if leader boy was royalty or something.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing inside my bed and breakfast?" I demanded, although I had a feeling my bravado was going to be short lived.

He cocked his head, daring to finger my wet hair, flipping long strands back and forth.

I dared slap his arm and in the next two seconds, his massive hand was wrapped around my throat, the large man pushing me against the wall. I was trembling all over and I sensed the holier than thou asshole could tell it by the smile crossing his face.

He took a deep breath, lowering his head as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across my lower lip roughly. "I'll put it to you this way. Consider the four of us guests for the evening."

"And if I don't agree?"

There was something so enticing and very dangerous about the laugh erupting from the very depths of his being. I could already read exactly what was on his mind and it angered me as much as the fact they'd broken in.

The unknown jerk believed I should bow to him.

"Let's just say you won't like what happens should you dare to refuse."

Instead of shuddering in fear, which was obviously what he wanted me to do, I offered a bright, sunny smile.

Just seconds before I punched him hard in the gut, turning swiftly and racing from the room.

If the brutal men thought I was a pushover, they had another think coming.

My daddy had taught me well.

Always fight to win.