“Fuck. That’s what he meant. The little fucker said he didn’t know anything. I hope Chazz freezes his balls off.” McKay stopped. “If you’re lying to me, you need to know that I will…”
Jesse could finish that sentence. “Do all kinds of things that will make me wish for death before you actually kill me. I get it. Now hear me. I swear on my father’s honor that I am telling you the truth. I will do anything to make up for my mistakes. From what I can tell, Petty is alone and Chazz talked about the fact that Evans usually brought five guys with him. You need me.”
McKay snorted. “I think I can handle it.”
“I have an armory.”
“Like I didn’t come with guns.” McKay started for the door. His cell trilled. “It’s Adam.”
He stepped outside, leaving Jesse alone with Sean and the one called Jake.
“Do you have a sniper rifle?” Sean asked. “We’re good on handguns but we could use something with a scope. Alex isn’t thinking.”
“Alex probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with the kid who nearly killed him,” Jake mused.
But Jesse was already going for the rifle. He had more than one. His little piece-of-crap loft didn’t have books or movies, but he had a metric shit ton of weapons and ammo. He opened the door to the closet he’d made into his own private supply shop.
Jake whistled. “Is that C-4? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Jesse shrugged. Everyone needed a hobby. “I like to be prepared, sir.”
“We’re not your superior officers, man. It’s just Jake.” Jake practically salivated. “Is that a fucking P90?”
Jake caressed the Belgian made submachine gun. It was highly restricted. Jesse had spent a lot of money buying it on the black market.
“You can take it. It might come in handy.” God, he sounded like a five-year-old trying to make a friend.
Sean nabbed his SR-25 and an extra cartridge. “This should do it.”
Jake sighed and Jesse would almost have sworn he whispered something to the P90 before moving away.
Alex opened the door again, his big body leaning into the room. “Adam has a line on that asshole we tagged. He just touched down here at Bartwell Farms.”
A relieved grin came over Sean’s face. “Don’t you mean the asshole Evie tagged? You won’t hear the end of this, man. Let’s go get your girl.”
“Thank god,” Jake said, following.
They would leave him behind. He put a hand over the little hole that the bullet had left. His ribs ached, but that didn’t matter. The three men were at the door, leaving him behind, and he did the one thing he hadn’t done in years. Not through torture or death. Not when everyone he cared about had turned away had he said one little word.
“Please.” It was his last chance.
McKay walked through the door. His voice floated back. “If you can make it to the car before I leave, I might think about using you as a human shield. And, Murdoch, if my wife is dead, I’ll take you apart myself.”
He got to the door, practically running to keep up.
Whatever happened, he would deserve it. One way or another.
Chapter Eighteen
Her wrists were bleeding and still she couldn’t get them to slip out of the bonds.
“Come on, Eve. We need to move.” Warren had been oddly polite ever since he’d shot Jesse. He reached for her hands and pulled her upright.
He’d knocked her out again. She was really damn sick of being rendered unconscious. Still, it gave her a realistic ploy. The longer she stayed away from Michael Evans, the better chance Alex had of catching up. She shook her head as though trying to clear it. “So woozy. What did you use on me?”
“Nothing that will kill you.” He caught her arm under the elbow, stabilizing her. “Come on. You need to get out.”
Slitting her eyes open, she could see that the afternoon sun was waning. Between Jesse knocking her out and Petty shoving a needle in her arm, the day had wasted away. She seemed to be in the back of a car. Her feet were untied, but her hands were still in the damn zip tie Jesse had placed them in. Where was she now? And how far behind was Alex?
“Evie, please.” His voice had gone oddly soft. “Come on, honey. We have to move. His plane is already here.”
He was trying to charm her to her own doom? Knowing that Evans was waiting for her didn’t make her want to move any faster. She decided to play dumb. She put her hands to her head. “Who are you talking about?”
“You know who, Eve.”
“I don’t know why, Warren.”
Warren Petty had gained some weight in the last few years, a paunch forming around his midsection. And time had not been kind to his hair. What he had left was rapidly going gray, but Eve could still see the bull-like strength in his meaty arms. “Does it matter?”
His eyes had shifted away as he asked the question. Guilt. He felt guilty. Which was a good thing since he was obviously guilty as hell.