Page 12 of Illusive
Ireland bit her lip to stifle her sobs of pain. She wasn’t sure she could put weight on her leg. If she couldn’t stand on two feet, how the hell could she run?
Sweat drenched every inch of her skin, dampening her clothes.
The tires squealed as they made a sharp turn and came to an abrupt halt. The driver cut off the engine and opened his door. “Let’s move.”
The other two doors opened and closed. A nearby car beeped as its locks were disengaged.
We’re in a parking garage.
Changing cars.
And every move they made, every misdirection, put home and safety further out of reach.
Smelling her own terror, Ireland gagged as bile filled her dry mouth. It was the fear of suffocating in her own vomit that pushed her past caring what would happen when the door nearest her opened.
Wild with desperation, she kicked out for leverage. Her stiletto heel ripped into the seat, and she launched out of the SUV into a hard, wide body. They toppled to unforgiving cold concrete with a sickening thud. Pain shot up her elbow, radiating like fire. Battling through it but hindered by the suffocating velvet, Ireland’s punches and kicks lacked full power. But her fist sank into a soft belly. Grazed a hard shoulder. Clipped a rib. Her knee rammed between two hard legs.
“Fucking cunt!” the man shrieked, rolling them both so that her spine and head were slammed into the garage floor. Her teeth clipped her tongue, and blood filled her mouth. Consciousness began to spin away in a kaleidoscope of darkness and oppressive, heated air. She tried to hold on but sank into oblivion.
Gideon was peripherally aware of the tornado of emotional chaos whipping through his office. His brother Christopher,who stood with his palms flat on his desktop, threw out recommendations as if the security team—comprised of former special forces or intelligence agents—wasn’t best equipped to manage the situation. But Gideon felt removed from the space, distanced by the shock of having everyone he cared for suffering at once. The possibility thathewas the reason his loved ones were in this horrific situation rocked him to the core.
Ireland. My god.
It was a struggle to remain standing still. The drive to do something,anything, was so strong he felt maddened by it, as if he were clawing into himself to stay in his office. All he wanted was to run after his sister, find the vehicle she was in, and rip apart the men inside it with his bare hands. His teeth.Anything.
Driven toward the edge of reason, Gideon found himself envying Boudreaux’s previous outbursts of anger and frustration because he couldn’t lose control. If he didn’t hold everything and everyone together—starting with himself—what little composure his family was holding on to would disintegrate.
Ireland. Was anyone as precious to him in quite the same way as his sister? She was the only member of his family with whom his relationship wasn’t tainted in some way. For a while, the age gap between them had been a distance too vast. Then, as she matured into adulthood, he’d feared ruining anything they might build between them just by being himself. It was his wife who brought them together and made him believe he could be a worthy brother without completely fucking it up.
Damn it.
The feeling of inertia became unbearable. And yet he knew the very best people were doing everything possible to recover his sister. He couldn’t be there and here at once, and while he craved violence against the men who’d dared to attack his family this way, securing everyone else’s safety was what he had to do. He wasn’t trained in tactical pursuit and recovery.
“Hey.” Eva startled him with her sudden appearance at his side.
Gideon realized he’d lost focus, something that never happened. Being present, aware, and observant were tenets in his life. He’d survived a sexual predator in his childhood, and from that, he’d learned to be vigilant always. That he was so lost as to be disconnected from the situation around him made him wonder if he was up to the task ahead.
He turned to face his wife. She looked up at him with those lovely gray eyes, so stormy now with worry and fear.
He never wanted her to know a moment of distress, yet too many times he’d seen that look of apprehension on her beautiful face. And too many times, something in his life had caused her to look that way.
Unbuttoning his jacket, Eva parted the halves and slid her hand underneath to press her palm over his pounding heart. He saw determination in the set of her jaw. And in those expressive eyes reminiscent of overcast skies, he saw her love for him, warm and unwavering.
She cupped his nape and held his gaze, reading him. Connecting.
“Come here,” she said quietly, urging him against her.
He allowed her to draw him closer, bending to press his cheek to hers. He breathed her in, so familiar and beloved. His system recognized the feel of her body, the scent of her skin, and the pressure of her embrace as safety and comfort. He felt some of the tension leave him, the vibrating agitation easing enough that he felt less overwhelmed.
Clutching her tightly, Gideon closed his eyes and paid attention to how she calmed him. The feel of her fingertips sifting through his hair. Her hand caressing his back beneath the weight of his jacket. He wasn’t alone in whatever they faced. Evawould stand beside him always. And if he faltered, she would help to secure his footing.
He sighed deeply, drawing strength from her partnership. Lifting his head, he assessed the rest of his family. Daniel had wrapped his arms around Elizabeth, his chin atop her head as she sobbed. The man was ten years younger than Gideon’s mother, though you’d never know it from looking at them. Her fiancé had gone prematurely gray, while she looked nearly as youthful as Ireland. The returning look Daniel gave him was reassuring. His mother was in good hands, and he could rely on the other man to hold her up. A blessing considering his own state of distress.
Christopher had fallen silent and now half-sat on the edge of the desk, his frame tense and his hands white-knuckled where they clutched the lip of the desktop. His head hung low, his chin almost touching his bowtie. He and Ireland were close, much closer than Gideon and Ireland were, because they were nearer in age and grew up together. As devastated as Gideon was, he knew it had to be much harder for his brother.
How could this have happened? Not just anywhere, but on a property he owned, during an event with extraordinarily heightened security. Not just his own personal and hotel teams, but also those providing personal security to his prominent guests. Too many breaches in recent days had cracked the foundation of his well-being, leaving him to question whether safety had always been an illusion.
Natalie, his sister-in-law, stood beside Chris Sr. and spoke quietly, her tone soothing. Her presence and support were greatly appreciated, and he attempted to convey that when her brown-eyed gaze met his. Christopher’s wife was blessed with a calming aura and an even temperament, which made her such a good match for his hotheaded brother. Nat was a majestic woman, as tall as Ireland but with Eva’s lush curves. Her skinwas like polished ebony, her only enhancement a slick of bright red lipstick that matched her Grecian-style gown. She’d pulled her gleaming black curls into a ponytail at the base of her neck and projected an air of cool stability in the chaos of the moment.
