Surrender A Section 8 Novel

Chapter Thirty-five





The ride through the bayou back to New Orleans was tense at best, but going during the daylight ensured that Powell’s men couldn’t make any major moves. Jem and Key both knew the bayou roads as well as, if not better than, Dare, and the brothers took them on a wild ride until they ended up in Gunner’s garage.

From there, Gunner guided them into his shop through the panic room. When Grace looked inside, she paused and moved backward quickly into Dare’s chest.

“I can’t,” she told him, and when he looked inside he saw exactly why. For a long moment, they all stood there, and then Jem said, “Can you just go through to the upstairs, Grace? We’ll all be with you.”

“God, I feel stupid,” she said.

“You shouldn’t,” Dare assured her. He took her hand, and Jem led the way in, looking around as if clearing the place. The door at the top creaked open and they could see Gunner at the top of the stairs.

“We’re coming up,” Jem told Gunner, who waved them through.

“Come on, baby—better to get inside fast while we haven’t been spotted,” Dare said, and that was the impetus Grace needed to get moving. Holding tight to his hand, she walked in front of him, almost at a march, with her head held forward. Key was the last in, securing things behind them.

Once they were all on the stairs, Gunner shut the big door leading to the garage. She jumped when it closed with a decisive bang, but she kept going. Finally, they were at the top of the stairs, and she breathed a small sigh of relief as Avery hugged her, and then Dare.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her while her arms were around his neck.

“I know.” She pulled back. “Grace, I’ve got some clothes for you.”

Grace followed Avery up another flight of stairs.

“They okay up there?” Dare asked Gunner, who nodded.

“It’s all bulletproof and tinted windows, but Avery knows not to take too long. We’ll sleep in the panic room, if you think Grace can handle it.”

“She’ll have to,” Dare said. “I’m going to go up and check on them.”

“Don’t blame you.” Gunner went back to scanning the monitors that showed the surrounding streets.

He heard them talking as he went up the stairs. They were talking about Darius, Grace sharing with Avery things she knew about him.

He tended to forget that Avery didn’t know the man she was risking her life for. It couldn’t be easy for her to know that Darius was the one who’d gotten her mother killed and put Avery’s back to the wall.

But Grace . . . she spoke highly of Darius. She was telling Avery how he played the guitar so loud, the neighbors would complain. And that whenever he tried to cook he’d start small fires in the kitchen.

She told Avery that she had his eyes. His smile. His laugh.

To hear Darius talked about in that way, a way he’d never known his father, was cool. Because his dad had always been rough, gruff, no-nonsense. But with Grace, Darius had obviously been different, no doubt treating her as he would’ve treated Avery.

The closest Dare had ever come to seeing his father’s softer side was when he played guitar. Sometimes he’d find the phone next to him while he played his music, and now, listening to Avery talk, he realized what Darius had been doing.

He would call Avery’s mom, not say anything, but rather, just play his guitar so she could hear him over the phone line. An I’m thinking of you thing, which was romantic and heartbreaking all at once . . . hell, it made Dare finger the pick around his neck and wonder how much a love like that might’ve changed Darius if he’d let it.

Dare’s whole life might’ve been different, no matter how often Darius told Dare that he’d been born ready for the military. There was truth in that.

Now he stood against the doorjamb, listening to Grace’s memories, watching Avery smile, knowing this was all the calm before the storm.

Avery would take care of Grace, would keep her safe. They would become friends—Dare knew that for certain.

It made the rest of his choices that much easier.


* * *

Jem and Gunner cooked, and by midafternoon, they were all eating in the back room with the monitors surrounding them. The mood was surprisingly upbeat, which tended to happen when everyone lived through a mission, no matter what other obstacles abounded. There was laughing and teasing and plenty of food to satisfy them.

Even Grace smiled a few times, seemed to feel as if the group trusted her.

Dare was as worried as hell about her. Held her hand under the table. Wanted to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay.

Wanted her to be able to see the future and know that it would. But she didn’t want that gift. Claimed he was the one bringing it out in her.

He finished his gumbo, drank his beer and switched to water. After dessert, which Gunner got from the restaurant he owned, it was time for business. Dare could tell by the way the men got restless and Avery fidgeted. Grace became quiet.

“You really think Darius is with Powell? That he’s the one feeding Powell the intel?” Avery asked finally. Jem pushed his plate away, and Key took a long drink from his beer.

“Yes—he’s doing it purposely,” Dare said after a long moment. “I don’t think he got captured on purpose, and I think he held out as long as he could.”

“What’s Powell’s next move?” Key asked.

“He’s going to ask for a trade,” Gunner said, and Grace paled.

“He’s not getting it,” Dare assured her.

“What is he getting?” Grace asked. Before anyone could answer her, Gunner’s shop phone rang.

“I think that’s for you,” Gunner said to Dare, who braced himself before picking up the phone.

“How does he know where we are if no one followed us?” Grace asked.

“I left the number where he could find it in the underground room,” Dare told her before he spoke into the phone. “Dare speaking.”

“Why don’t you put me on speakerphone so you can all listen?” Richard Powell suggested, and Dare did as he asked, Powell’s voice filling the room. “Hello, everyone. Hi, Gracie—I’ve missed you. I hear you’ve been doing well.”

Grace held tightly to the bottle of beer she’d been drinking—it was slightly raised, as if she was ready to smash it against the phone.

“What’s your endgame?” Dare asked.

“Grace.”

“Forget it.”

“There’s someone I think you’ll be interested in hearing from,” Powell said. “Say hello, Darius.”

Dare’s gut tightened. Avery put a hand over her mouth, and Grace cried silently when Darius’s voice came over the line.

“Dare, I’m fine—”

“He won’t be,” Powell broke in. “And I wouldn’t call the shape he’s in fine, although I know he can handle more than the average man.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Grace said, even as Dare attempted to stop her from talking.

“Grace, you know how I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’ll bet you’ve been,” she said fiercely.

“You come back and it’ll all go away. Dare gets his father back and Dare gets to live, as do the rest of your new friends.”

“I need proof of life,” Dare cut in. “You could’ve taped his voice.” He gave Powell the number to a throwaway cell, and a minute later, Powell said, “Check your phone.”

Darius, holding today’s New York Times. Gunner pulled up the front page on the computer—a match.

Darius looked horrible, but Dare ignored Grace’s gasp of surprise behind him.

“Speak to me, Powell,” Dare told him. “Let’s keep it short and simple.”

“Short and simple? Fine. Grace for Darius. A fair trade.”

Grace shook her head at the impossible decision her stepfather had put out there.

“What’s fair about it?”

“Normally, I’d just take them both. It’s a onetime offer.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you?”

“You keep trying to kill me. And others around me.”

“You want me to call off the dogs? That’s not part of the deal.” Powell said. “Darius for Grace. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Feel free not to take that long—and I’ll feel free to proceed as I’ve been with Darius and hope he holds up.”

The last thing they heard over the line before it cut out was Darius’s screams.


* * *

Grace didn’t realize she’d dropped the bottle until she heard the crash and tinkle of broken glass on the floor. There was a long pause, and until Avery put a hand on her shoulder, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.

She exhaled, held on to the chair; her legs felt shaky.

“I’ll do it,” she said, and they all started talking at once. She put up her hand and told them, “I’m the reason you’re involved in all of this. I’m the problem. I’ll go to him and he’ll free Darius.”

“First of all, I don’t trust him to make that trade. Even if I did, I already told you, I’m not letting you go back there. It’s a death sentence, no matter how much you think otherwise. Manipulation only works to a certain point with Powell,” Dare told her.

“I’ll do better this time,” she said. “Look, if I can prove to him that not only did I survive, but my gift is fine, he’ll want to keep me alive, at least to test me. Sometimes a fake psychic’s better than a real one. People only want to hear good things—everyone says, ‘I really want to know,’ but no one does. So when you tell them something they want to believe, it’s perfect. Deal’s done—I’m a magician.”

“And when it doesn’t happen?”

“I always say, there’s no time limit.”

“Powell’s never going to buy that, Grace. He hasn’t even mentioned your gift as a reason to get you back. I won’t make the trade, even in the short term while we plan a rescue to get you back. You have enough nightmares.”

“So do you. So will Darius. So do all of us. You’ve done everything you could to protect me. Let me make this sacrifice for all of you. I trust you’ll save me.” Grace looked around wildly, hoping that one of them would be nodding. Instead, they all looked at her solemnly, with Jem shaking his head.

“Grace, honey, look—if I thought you had something to do with Powell, I wouldn’t let you do it because that would be suicide for us. But I do trust you and it’s still suicide for all of us, and even I’m not that crazy,” Jem said.

“Maybe that’s the problem—maybe we’re not acting crazy enough. I’m willing to do this—you all need to let me,” Grace insisted. “You have no right to tell me what I can’t do with my own life. For Darius. He saved me—it’s time for me to return the favor.”


* * *

They were all still arguing an hour later. It was exactly what Dare had been hoping for.

He’d remained quiet, watching Grace argue with Jem and Avery and Gunner. That was expected of him after hearing and seeing the condition Darius was in. He hated to see Grace and Avery so upset about it, but it was necessary.

Finally, he muttered, “I need some time alone to think,” and went into another room.

The arguing didn’t stop when he left. He just hoped Key would stop Grace from attempting to follow him.

He dialed the number, waited to hear Powell’s voice. “About time—I was just getting ready to kill your father.”

“Thanks for holding off on that.”

“You’ve thought about my proposal. I hope you understand that saying no won’t change anything you’re currently experiencing. In fact, I’m having a good time, so I might not want to stop at all.”

“Listen good, Powell, because I don’t repeat myself. Instead of the trade you proposed, here’s my proposal—me and Key for Darius and Grace.”

He forced himself silent, screwed his eyes tight and prayed Gunner would keep Grace away from him long enough for him to complete this deal. Lying to her was bad enough—having her know about it beforehand would break his damned heart.

Finally, Powell spoke. “None of you will ever discuss S8. Especially Grace.”

“Right,” Dare agreed.

“And I believe that because?”

“Grace hasn’t spoken about it yet, and she’s had the opportunity. They all know I’d be the first to die if they do. They know you won’t stop coming for them. All they want is to live out their lives with some semblance of normalcy.”

“What kind of life will you and Key be living?”

“Whatever kind you decide.”