Guarded from Sabotage (Blade and Arrow Security Bravo Team #2)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

DANTE

I’m so fucking scared.

My Sarah—my heart —is at the mercy of a woman set on revenge.

In the forty minutes since we left the hotel, the reality of the situation has become terrifyingly clear. Blake Morris wasn’t just an unemployed drug addict living with his sister in Boston.

He was the man who assaulted Sarah in college.

Somehow, he convinced Tamara that Sarah was to blame. That she’d made up the accusations against him, and he was the innocent victim.

Because of Blake’s lies, the woman I love more than my own life is in terrible danger.

What is Tamara doing to her? What has she done already?

What if I’m already too late?

Speeding to the brink of recklessness, we’re now less than ten miles from Sarah, but it feels like we’re light years away.

So much could happen in the time it takes to reach her.

And with every minute, each mile, the terror inside me grows bigger.

The same question keeps ricocheting madly around my head.

What if I’m too late?

What if Tamara isn’t taking Sarah to the middle of nowhere to hurt her? What if she already has? What if?—

No. I can’t think about that. Sarah has to be okay.

With the help of my team, I’m going to bring Sarah home, where I can take care of her. I’ll hold her through the nightmares, tend to any injuries she has—shit, please let her not be too badly hurt—and do whatever it takes to make sure she’s okay. Movie marathons. Home-cooked meals. Flowers. Presents. Jewelry. Anything .

A tidal wave of emotion sweeps over me, stealing my breath.

Please let her be okay.

“Six miles out.” Rhiannon turns her attention from the laptop to look at me. “From the satellite images, it looks like the best rendezvous point is about a quarter mile down the road. There’s a mobile home in foreclosure—from the looks of it, abandoned—and if we park behind it, we should have decent cover.”

Erik leans forward between the front seats to peer at the screen. “I don’t love the open area between that house and the one Sarah’s in. What if Tamara is watching for us? There’s not enough tree cover for us to make a stealth approach.”

Quickly glancing at the laptop, I notice the expanse of grass and brush Erik’s talking about; definitely not tall or thick enough to hide us. “If we have to go to the road and approach from the other side, we can do that. But there’s a possibility Tamara has no idea we’re coming. If she doesn’t know about the earrings…”

But what if she does? A tech savvy person like Tamara might think of it. What if we show up to this little house on the outskirts of Harwood only to discover the earrings are a decoy, and Sarah’s not there at all?

Shit.

Is this what it feels like to be on the verge of a panic attack?

Almost like she’s reading my mind, Rhiannon pats my shoulder. “Don’t assume the worst, D. We’ve got a lot of things going for us. First, it hasn’t been that long. The last text from Sarah was at two-fifty-five, and it’s four-thirty now?—”

“That’s over an hour and a half,” I grit out. My jaw clenches as I try to keep from yelling. “Anything could happen in that time.”

“Yes,” Erik interjects. “But Sarah’s smart. She’s good with people. You know she’ll be trying to figure out a way to work Tamara. Convince her to let her go. Stall. Get the upper hand. Something.”

What he’s saying is true, except… What if Sarah’s hurt too badly? What if she’s unconscious? What if she?—

NO.

Not now.

This is not the time to let my fears overtake me.

This is the time to rely on my skills. My training. My experience on dozens of missions. To do what I’d tell any of my teammates to do—concentrate on tactics and details and laser-focused observation. Use everything at my disposal to get in, neutralize the tango, rescue the target, and get out.

But this isn’t just a target. It’s the woman I love.

“Xav wants to know where to stop,” Erik reports, glancing down at his phone. “Do we want to go with the location Rhi suggested?”

“Yes.” As the driver, I don’t have the luxury of meticulously studying the sat images to find the optimal RP. Besides that, I trust Rhiannon. One of her strengths is geographic analysis, so if she thinks this is the best place, that’s what we’ll do.

“It’s going to be about two miles ahead,” Rhiannon says. “You’ll come around a curve, go up a slight incline, and the driveway for the mobile home is on the right.”

Almost time.

Oh, please.

I can’t fail Sarah again.

As I make a right turn onto the dirt driveway Rhiannon described, I can see a small house in the distance to the west of it; ramshackle and overgrown, with a newer sedan parked out front of it.

Tamara’s car?

“Can you have Matt run the license as soon as we’re close enough?” I ask, directing my question to Erik. “To verify she’s there?”

“Absolutely.” Erik whips out a small pair of binoculars from the duffel beside him and peers out the window. Somehow, he manages to read the license plate numbers as we bounce down the bumpy driveway, and taps out a quick text to Matt.

Just as I’m parking behind the rundown mobile home, Erik says, “He got it. The car is registered to Tamara Morris, Boston address. It’s definitely hers.”

My heart jumps at the bit of good news. If Tamara is still here, it’s likely Sarah is, too. If this were just a decoy, Tamara would be long gone by now. And if she’d dumped?—

I can’t even think it.

In the side-view mirror, I watch as Niall and Xavier pull up behind us. They’d both been in San Antonio when Erik called them, picking up some security equipment for their upcoming job, so they were an hour out from Harwood, just like we were.

Rhiannon lifts her chin in the direction of the mobile home. “See the notices on the door? And all the curtains are gone. It’s definitely empty.”

Shutting off the SUV, I turn to her before getting out of the car. “This was a good call, Rhi.”

She gives me a quick nod. “Let’s get in there and rescue Sarah.”

Once we’re huddled together by the front of the house, I look around at my teammates. “Okay. We need one person to recon the house Sarah’s in. Coming in, it looked like most of the windows were boarded over, but we need to be sure. If they’re blocked, that makes our approach a lot easier.”

“I can do it,” volunteers Xavier. He meets my gaze, waiting for an answer.

While a part of me wants to go myself, to put eyes on the house again, I know I can’t do everything. So I give him a quick chin lift in affirmation. “Do it.”

He’s back before we’re even done checking our weapons, a grim smile touching his lips. “The two sides of the house I could see were all boarded up. The grass and shrubs have grown up along the walls, so they’re partially blocking the windows, too. And there’s a small shed that will add some cover on our approach.”

Rhiannon pulls out her phone and shows us the satellite image of the house on her screen. “Front door and back. I’m thinking we meet behind the shed, then split up to both doors.” She looks at me. “What do you think?”

Instinct urges me to sprint over there, strategy be damned, break down the door and take down Tamara with whatever methods necessary. To bust inside like an avenging hero and rush my Sarah to safety.

But I know what needs to be done, and it’s not following my emotions. “It’s a good idea.” Pausing, I take a moment to sort through my thoughts. “We stop behind the shed, like Rhi suggested. Then Xavier and Niall head to the front porch. Erik, Rhiannon, and myself will head to the back. Once we determine where Tamara is, we’ll decide who moves in first.”

Casting a quick glance around our small huddle, my voice gets rough as I add, “We’ll try for non-lethal, but if it comes to Sarah’s safety…”

Niall’s gaze is filled with somber understanding. “Whatever it takes to protect Sarah.”

“Are we ready?” I ask. My hand settles on my Sig. “Everyone good with their gear?”

A chorus of low yeses follows.

“Okay.” I raise my hand in a hold gesture as I meet the solemn gazes of my teammates. Like me, their expressions are stony. Determined. Shoulders are set. Muscles tensed.

On a silent prayer, I drop my hand.

Please. Let me not be too late .

We sprint across the grassy field, one after another, our steps silent and steady just as we’ve been trained. Once we converge behind the tiny shed, Niall pulls out a thermal camera and points it at the house. “Looks like two heat signatures in the front,” he says quietly. “Based on the pictures we saw online, they’re in the living room.”

My legs go weak with relief. Two heat signatures. Which means Sarah’s still alive.

With a quick nod, I say, “Then it’ll be me, Erik, and Rhiannon entering first, from the back. We’ll move through the kitchen and into the dining room. If Tamara is unarmed, we’ll take her down right away. If not… we’ll have to assess once we’re inside.”

Xavier touches the tiny communication device pinned to his collar. “Just give us the signal when you want us to move.”

“Will do.” My jaw sets as I prepare for the next stage of our plan. Turning to Niall, I say, “If it comes to it, and you need to take a shot…”

As our resident sniper, Niall immediately knows what I mean. “I will.”

“Alright.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “It’s time to get in there and rescue Sarah.”

On my downward gesture, we move out again, this time crouching low as we run towards the house. Up close, it’s in worse shape than I realized—pieces of paneling falling off, shingles missing, trash and broken glass amid the overgrown grass—and I feel sick to think of Sarah inside, frightened and possibly in pain.

Lock it down.

Don’t think about that now.

Focus on getting Sarah out. Worry about the rest later.

As we round the side of the house, I can hear the faint sound of a woman’s voice through the boarded-up windows. It rises and falls, angry at one moment, calm the next.

Not Sarah’s voice. It must be Tamara’s.

If she’s talking, that must mean Sarah’s conscious, right? Why else would Tamara be talking?

Unless she’s talking on the phone. Or she’s had a psychotic break.

At the back door, I stop and turn to Erik and Rhiannon. Pitching my voice low, I say, “Once we get inside, I’m going to try to get a bead on Tamara. Find out what kinds of weapons she has. Stay back in the kitchen until you get my signal.”

They both nod and murmur in unison, “Got it.”

As I put my hand on the doorknob, I hold my breath.

Is it locked? Will I have to waste precious seconds picking it? Are the hinges still oiled or rusty? Can we get inside without making a sound?

Luck is on our side again.

The door opens smoothly, and we slip inside; first me, then Rhiannon, and Erik at our six. As we enter the barren kitchen—all the appliances are missing and a wire hangs from the ceiling where a chandelier used to be—I can hear Tamara speaking from the front of the house.

“It’s funny really, how easy it is to get a cell phone jammer. And they’re surprisingly effective. It was a nice touch, that you tried to call for help and couldn’t, wasn’t it?”

As I inch forward through the kitchen and towards the dining room, silence falls as Tamara stops talking. Then, in a biting tone, she asks, “ Wasn’t it? You must have been so confused by then. Scared. Did you know you’d been drugged yet? Did you?”

After another brief silence, Tamara barks, “ Did you?”

There’s a pained yelp, and then a soft, “No. I didn’t know.”

Sarah!

Though every muscle in my body is shouting at me to run, to get to Sarah right now , I force myself to move slowly. To edge my way along the interior wall of the dining room and towards the open doorway to the living room. To carefully peek around the doorjamb instead of racing in there, like my heart is urging me to.

And then.

I see Sarah.

She’s laying on the floor, her hands and ankles bound, shaking and crying softly. Tamara is pacing in front of her, gesturing with a gun, and as I’m watching, she kicks Sarah in the side, snarling, “Do you think you’re smarter than me? Do you?”

Sarah yelps. Pain laces her voice as she replies quietly, “No. I don’t. But… I just want to know how?—”

Tamara kicks her again.

This time, Sarah screams in pain.

Red fills my vision.

She’s hurting Sarah.

I’m a second from storming in there when a rush of cool logic tamps my rage.

The gun. I can’t risk her shooting Sarah. If I run in there, Tamara will use Sarah as a shield. I’m sure of it.

So I force myself to back away, each step more painful than the last.

Once I get back to the kitchen, Rhiannon and Erik converge on me, both of them looking absolutely furious.

“She has a gun,” I grit out. “And Sarah has her back to the doorway, so Tamara will probably see us come in. Either we have Niall come around back and try to take her out, or…”

I hate the other option, because I know it’ll terrify Sarah. But I think it’s the safest. “I’m going to throw a flashbang in there.” Touching my comm, I murmur, “Tamara is armed. I’m using a flashbang. Xav, Niall, move in and restrain Tamara. I’ll get Sarah. Erik and Rhi, you’re my backup.”

Xavier replies in a nearly inaudible tone, “On it.”

Erik and Rhiannon meet my gaze, sharing their silent agreement.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab the flashbang and pull it out.

I can’t screw this up.

I won’t.

What have all the years of training been if not for this?

With a sharp lift of my chin, I move.

From there, everything happens quickly.

I fling the flashbang into the living room and turn my head.

Before Tamara can get out, “What—” it goes off in an explosion of blinding light and deafening noise.

My own ears are ringing, but it doesn’t slow me down. I race into the living room and fling myself over Sarah just as Xavier and Niall come bursting through the front door.

Niall wrenches the gun out of Tamara’s hand and takes her to the ground, holding her down while Xavier restrains her with zip ties.

Rhiannon and Erik surround me, both of them with their Sigs at the ready.

And cradled carefully beneath me is Sarah, making these terrified little sounds that make me want to break things.

I know she’s disoriented, that she can’t see or hear, so I stroke her cheek and gently press my lips to her forehead. “It’s okay,” I murmur, even though she can’t hear me. Between kisses I repeat, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

“Tango neutralized,” Niall calls out. He sounds darkly satisfied as he adds, “She’s not going to hurt Sarah again.”

I move off Sarah and kneel in front of her, my gaze skimming across her body, searching for injuries.

Rhiannon says from behind me, “I’m grabbing the medi-kit. I’ll be right back.”

Sarah blinks at me as her pupils start to return to normal. Her voice wobbles. “Dante?”

My heart.

“Yes, beautiful. I’m here.” Tears threaten, but I swallow hard against them. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

“I knew you’d come.” She looks up at me, her chin quivering. “I was trying to stall.”

“You did such a good job.” As I move my hands over Sarah’s body, my heart fractures at each cry of pain that escapes. “I’m so sorry. I know it hurts.”

My poor Sarah.

It’s horrible, seeing her hurt like this.

Guilt and rage war for dominance as I discover the huge, blossoming bruises all along her side, a sign of at least fractured ribs, if not broken ones.

When I touch her shoulder and Sarah instinctively jerks away from the pain, it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut.

Then I see the foot shaped bruise rising on her stomach, and my molars grind to dust as I try to keep from howling in fury.

“An ambulance is on the way,” Erik says, leaning down to speak by my ear. “And the police. Xavier and Niall took Tamara into the kitchen, so Sarah won’t have to see her.”

When I try to answer him, nothing comes out at first. My throat is too thick.

Sarah reaches out to me with her good arm—Erik got the zip ties undone first thing—and touches my cheek. “Can we go home, Dante? I just… want to go home.”

Oh.

Don’t cry. Not now.

“Of course.” Thumbing the tears from her cheeks, I kiss the damp streaks left behind. “We’ll get you checked out at the hospital, and then we’ll go home. I promise.”

Her gaze meets mine, filled with pain, but also so much love. “I thought about you. The whole time. How I needed to stay strong for you.”

Shit.

Forget not crying.

My eyes go damp as I press my lips to hers. “I love you, Sarah. Thank you for hanging on for me.”