Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(64)

“It’s done,” he said.

“Good. Very good. Glad to see you still have it in you.” Sullivan’s voice rang with approval. “Now let’s talk about the body . . .”

“Taking care of that. I’m on the way to you with her now.”

“What?” Sullivan sputtered. “You can’t do that.”

“You have that fat house on Desert Lane, right? I’ll be there soon.”

“Do not come to my house, Allister. You hear me?” An edge of panic entered his voice.

Reid hung up, a grin playing about his lips. Now he only had to wait. And it didn’t take long to wait for the rats to scurry.

A few moments later, as he’d hoped, the side door opened and Sullivan exited with two other men close at his sides. More men poured out of the house, taking positions around the perimeter, presumably readying themselves for Reid’s arrival.

Sullivan and two of his thugs hopped in one of the SUVs, clearly in a hurry to get him away from the house. Sullivan wouldn’t want to be at any location where a dead Grace Reeves could potentially show up. He wanted to hurt the president in the worst way by killing his daughter, but he didn’t want to take the blame for it. The bastard would want to be someplace public and, more important, far away. Even if that meant he had fewer men guarding him.

Reid watched as the vehicle passed, then he started his bike and turned down the street, following the black SUV, keeping a careful distance as he trailed them through town. It was a short drive. Ten minutes later Sullivan pulled up in front of his office, a squat brown building.

Reid parked at the corner and climbed off his bike. Sullivan and his men went in through the front door, which was the point—letting himself be seen by witnesses. He was counting on his men back at the house dealing with Reid and the corpse he was bringing.

Reid checked his gun under his jacket, verifying it was still in position, tucked in the back of his jeans. Then he crossed the street and walked around to the back of the building advertising Sullivan Realty.

The back door was unlocked. He eased inside, making his way through an empty employee staff room. He rounded a corner, his hand behind his back, gripping his gun. He heard voices near the front, easily picking out Sullivan’s ringing tones.

He stuck close to the wall, moving down a hall. His goal was Sullivan, but he knew he might have to take down his thugs, too.

His heart thundered in his chest the closer he inched toward the door where he heard Sullivan speaking. Inconveniently, he also heard another voice. This one in his head. Soft and familiar. You’re not a killer. Damn it. It was bad enough she’d gotten beneath his skin. Now she was in his head, too, distracting him, softening him when he needed to be hard and calculated. When he needed to be the man he was at Devil’s Rock, who kicked ass and took names and never thought twice about it.

He paused, squeezing his eyes in a tight blink. Exhaling, he let his head drop against the wall. Christ. He couldn’t do it.

Eleven years he’d been dreaming about this moment and she’d ruined him.





Twenty-Two




Grace stood outside a nail salon just one block down the street from Sullivan Realty. She’d parked the van haphazardly in front of the salon, one tire rolled up onto the sidewalk. Several faces pressed against the glass, gawking at her. She’d made a spectacle of herself, running inside and using the phone to call her personal aide and give her instructions and her location.

She knew it was going to take a while for the Secret Service to show up, but she also knew they would contact the local police. Surely they would be here any second.

She paced in front of the salon, dragging a hand through her hair, her pulse hammering at her neck every moment Reid was inside that building. Where were they?

Damn it. She couldn’t stand it. She had to do something. Shooting a quick glance left and right, she darted across the street, her mind racing, trying to formulate a plan that wouldn’t endanger Reid or herself.

As her gaze narrowed on the door that read Sullivan Realty, she arrived at something that could work. Hopefully.

She would walk into the lobby and demand to see Otis Sullivan. Reid had gone around the back. Hopefully, the two had not come face-to-face yet. Or at least Reid had not committed murder yet. She would look Sullivan squarely in the face and tell him she knew who he was, what he had done, and that the police were on the way. It was over. There had to be witnesses inside that building that weren’t criminals. He wouldn’t harm her in front of them.

Nodding, convinced that this was a solid plan, she reached for the door.

Her hand never made it to the handle. A fist grabbed her by the hair and yanked her around. She yelped and clawed at the hand buried in her hair, her feet scampering over the ground, fighting for purchase as she was hauled back around the building.

“What the hell are you doing here?” a familiar voice snarled into her ear. “Shouldn’t you be dead, you little bitch?”

She started to scream, but Rowdy’s hand slammed over her mouth. He continued to drag her to the back of the building. There were other footsteps and she tried to twist her head to see who and how many she was up against.

Where were the police?

Once in the back gravel parking lot, Rowdy spun her around to face him. “Where the hell is he?” Zane and another guy she vaguely recognized as one of her abductors stood beside him. Rowdy jerked his chin at them. “Good thing we decided to come by right now and pick up the money Sullivan promised us for grabbing her.” He turned his gaze back on her, full of blistering wrath. “Now answer my question. Where the f*ck is he?”