Love. God, he loved her. And it had to hit him now? When he was about to put her in danger? He looked away from her because if he didn’t, he was going to lose it.

He had to pull it together. He could not go into this with his head so goddamn messed up. He had to forget love. He had to forget about his mother. He had to forget about Sophie, and oh God, he had to forget about his child.

Just a job. He had to keep objectivity or he was going to make a mistake and he’d lose them all.

Only, his pulse wouldn’t slow, and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Over fourteen goddamn years of being fearless and stoic in the face of danger, and he was going to fuck it all up now when it mattered the most.

There were three armed guards at the heavy metal gate. The tension level in the SUV went through the roof. Garrett pulled to a stop and cracked the window.

“We’re here to see Tomas Mouton,” he said coolly.

Sophie went rigid next to Sam.

The guard’s gaze swept the SUV, and he gestured for Garrett to open his door.

“Not going to happen,” Garrett said. “Tell Mouton we’re here. He’s expecting us.”

The guard’s nostrils flared, but he picked up a radio and relayed the information. A moment later the gate began to sweep open, and they were motioned through.

“You stay behind me at all times,” Sam said to Sophie, though he’d already gone over the plan a half dozen times. “You don’t move, you don’t do anything until we tell you, and if I tell you to get down, you drop immediately.”

She nodded but never looked away from the house that loomed closer in the windshield.

They stopped directly in front of the main entrance, exactly in the location they’d pinpointed so that Cole and P.J. had clear shots to the front steps.

Everything hinged on a game of chicken and KGI not flinching first. Sam hoped to hell Tomas was the nervous type.

Garrett got out first but stayed behind the open door. Resnick popped out on his side, and then Donovan got out on his side and knocked the seat forward for Ethan.

“Stay in the truck until I tell you,” Sam murmured to Sophie as he too opened his door.

Sam stepped into the morning sun, glad that the light was behind them. He’d take any advantage he could.

The seconds ticked into minutes until finally the front door opened and Tomas Mouton stepped out, flanked by two guards. He looked nervous—a good sign—and when he caught sight of the men surrounding the SUV he halted, and for a moment looked uncertain.

Sam stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Garrett.

“Where is my mother?” he called out.

The two men were separated by a good twenty yards and a row of four steps leading up to the concrete landing outside the front door.

“Where is my niece?” Mouton returned.

Sam gestured at the truck. “She’s inside.”

“As is your mother.”

Silence yawned, and Sam said nothing, waiting for Mouton to make the next move.

“Bring her out. I want to see her. If you’re trying to pull something, Kelly, I’ll have your mother executed on the spot.”

“As a gesture of good faith, I’ll bring Sophie out. That’s all. She doesn’t make a move toward you until I see my mother. Understand?”

All the air left Sophie’s lungs as Sam backed toward the truck and extended a hand inside. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t want him to witness the terrible fear that streaked through her veins. She grasped his fingers and slid over until she stepped out of the truck.

“Stay behind the door,” Sam directed.

When he was satisfied with her position, he moved back ahead of her to face Mouton.

“You see her. Now I want to see my mother. And she better be unharmed, Mouton.”

Sophie’s uncle’s mouth drew into a frown. No, he didn’t like threats. She’d seen that look countless times when her father had issued a set-down to his younger brother.

Tomas ignored Sam and looked directly at her. He had a distinct look of unease on his face. And fear. She could almost smell his fear. His forehead was shiny in the sunlight, and when she looked down at his hands, they were balled into fists at his sides.

“The key, Sophie. Show me the key.”

Not waiting for direction from Sam, she slowly held her hand up, flashing the metal in the sun so he could plainly see the key and the leather band that had secured it to her father’s neck.

The door opened again and the men surrounding her and the SUV all tensed, each reaching for his gun. The guards at Tomas’s side reacted by drawing their rifles.

Marlene Kelly came into view looking pale and haggard, but Sophie didn’t look at her. No, her focus was on the man nearly covered by Marlene. The man holding one arm tightly around her neck and pressing a gun to her temple with his other hand.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her palms went damp, and her stomach clenched in a knot so tight she thought she was going to puke.

It wasn’t possible.

She’d killed him.

Sam froze when he saw the man holding his mother like a human shield. Not much of him was visible, but he could see enough to know he’d been had. Not just had, but truly and royally fucked.

Son of a bitch.

He glanced sideways at his brothers, but he refused to look back at Sophie, refused to give her or her bastard father the satisfaction.

God, when he remembered the tears Sophie had conjured as she fed him that sob story about her home life and how she’d shot and killed her father, it made him want to puke. She was good, and he’d been sucked in, hook, line and sinker.

Was the baby even his or had she lied about that too?

“Jesus,” Garrett muttered.

It echoed Sam’s own thoughts perfectly.

“I believed her too, man,” Garrett said quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

Sam went cold. Utterly still, and he turned it all off. Right now nothing mattered but getting his mother to safety.

“Let her go, Mouton,” Sam called. “Let her go, and you’ll get what you want.”

“Welcome home, daughter,” Alex called out.

For the first time, Sam turned and put his hand out to Sophie in a stopping motion.

“You don’t move a fucking inch until he lets her go.”

Sophie stood, stock-still, her face pale and drawn. Her hand clutched the key, that goddamn key—did her father even need it? Was the whole thing an elaborate ruse to get Sam and his men in a vulnerable position?

There was too much Sam couldn’t wrap his brain around, but it didn’t matter. His mother did.

While he was still faced away from Mouton, he ordered in quick, urgent tones, “P.J., Cole, take the goddamn shot.”

“I do not have a shot. Repeat, I do not have a shot,” P.J. said.

A split second later, Cole’s voice bled through the receiver in Sam’s ear.

“Negative on a clear shot.”

Sam swore under his breath. He turned back to Mouton, ignoring the pleading in Sophie’s eyes.

“It would seem we’re at an impasse, Alex.”

But were they? Did the bastard even want Sophie? Was he willing to sacrifice her to achieve his means? And what was his purpose? Revenge? None of this made any sense. Why go through such an elaborate charade? Doubt crowded Sam’s mind. Had Sophie really betrayed him?

Pushing aside his emotions, he stared Alex Mouton down. Sam needed to get him talking, needed him to make a mistake so P.J. and Cole could take him out.

“No, we aren’t,” Alex said indifferently. “It really doesn’t matter to me one way or another if your mother dies. Can you say the same?”

Marlene made a sound of panic as Mouton dug the point of the pistol harder into the side of her head.

Sam zeroed in on Mouton’s hand, how it tightened around the stock. His finger hovered and then closed around the trigger. He was going to kill her. Right here in front of Sam and his brothers. And Sam was helpless to do anything but watch.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Garrett whirled around, his hands going to his pants just as Sophie shot past him, one of the grenades from Garrett’s belt in her hand.

And so she’d made her move.

She yanked the pin and clutched the grenade in the same hand as the key. Only the leather tie was visible, squashed up next to the grenade.

Her hands trembled and her eyes were wild and fierce with determination. Her gaze connected with Sam’s, and he saw so much pain and sorrow that it sucked the air from his lungs.

And he knew. Knew in that moment that he’d made a terrible assumption. She hadn’t betrayed him.


SOPHIE couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t process the nightmare unfolding in front of her eyes.

Her father was going to kill Marlene. She knew it without a doubt. No matter what happened, he would make a statement. Don’t cross him. Ever.

She wanted to vomit, but right now she had to be strong. She had to think fast and not betray her gut-wrenching fear. That she could do. She’d hidden her fear and weakness from her father for years. She wouldn’t fail now.

Holding the grenade close to her now that she was sure her father had seen it, she leveled a cool stare at him and voiced her demands.

“Put the gun down and let her go.”

Marlene’s eyes drew up in horror as Sophie walked toward the front steps. Sophie ignored her. She couldn’t think about Marlene or offer her any reassurance.

“Let her go or I blow us all up,” Sophie said in a voice devoid of the horrific fear that rolled through her body.

“You’re bluffing,” her father bit out.

“Am I?” She gripped the grenade tighter, her thumb now numb from the pressure she exerted on the handle. “You think I don’t know that I die either way? If I go with you, you’ll kill me. I have nothing to lose. But you have a choice. You can let Mrs. Kelly go and I’ll put the pin back in the grenade and go with you. Or I’ll relax my grip and blow me and you and the key to smithereens. Either way I die. If you let Mrs. Kelly go, you don’t die. Now, what’s it going to be?”