Page 30 of Descent
“Drop your fucking weapons,” said a voice from behind me. A voice I recognized.
The cold press of Military Dude’s weapon bit into the back of my head, but the gun-cock I heard didn’t come from him.
“We already killed the rest of your guys,” Jax said. “We don’t have a problem taking the two of you assholes out. Drop them now!”
Shelton dropped his gun before lifting his hands in the air. “Stand down,” he told Military Dude.
The guy at my back shifted, and I detected the thump of his weapon hitting the ground. Pulse ratcheting, I turned and stepped to the right, bringing Jax and another guy into full view.
His gaze drifted over me, cataloging the mud and blood, and he raised his brows at the sight of my busted up face. “You okay, man?”
“I’m alive.” I gestured toward the outbuilding. “How’d you find me?”
“Alex got creative with a skillet. Your woman’s got balls.” He stepped forward and shoved Military Dude to where Shelton still stood with his hands in the air. “She dragged that fucker down to the cellar and locked him up. If not for her propensity for survival, I wouldn’t have known you guys were in trouble.”
Pride for my wife rose in my chest. “They have my son.”
“We already got him out.” As his buddies retrieved the dropped weapons, Jax nodded in the opposite direction of the outbuilding. “He’s with Alex and Angel.”
“She’s here?” I glanced across the field, as if she’d magically appear in the overgrown grass, just like Jax and the other three men had.
“Yeah, but before you run into her arms, what should we do with these assholes?”
I shot a glance in Shelton’s direction, noting the furrow between his brows. He looked a little worried, and he should be. Jax passed me a handgun, and I sauntered up to the bastard.
“I should toss your ass into the dog pit.”
“Don’t be rash, Mason. We can make a deal. I’ve got money.”
“You’ve got nothing I want.” I raised the gun, and his eyes widened, alarm registering an instant before I pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his skull, and Shelton dropped to the ground.
Military Dude took off running, and before I could aim, Jax got out a shot that sent him into the grass as well.
Instant death was better than they deserved, but I didn’t have the stomach, or the time, to make them suffer. I needed them dead, unable to come after us while I got my son to safety.
Meeting Jax’s gaze, I spanned the feet between us and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I’ve never been more happy to see you, man.”
Clearing his throat, he stepped back. “I had some help.”
“You saved our asses,” I said, taking in the small group. “If you’re ever in a bind and need a guy…”
“We’ll let you know,” said the dude sporting two arm sleeves of ink. He slapped Jax’s back. “This fucker’s always had our backs.”
“Same here,” I said.
Of course, there was a time when Jax hadn’t had my back, and Alex and I had ended up enslaved in a sex ring nightmare, but he’d more than made up for it in the past year.
Jax nodded toward the line of trees on the other side of the field. “Go see to your kid. We’ve got this.”
“Did he see your faces?”
Jax gave a solemn nod. “Wasn’t about to traumatize him with a blindfold. Kid’s been through enough.”
I was grateful for his care in getting my son out of that place, but the question was on everyone’s minds, and it begged to be addressed.
What the fuck would we do if Will returned home to his grandparents and implicated us all in his kidnapping?
16. Reunion
Alex
Twenty minutes ago, I spied headlights on the north side of the field, but there’d been no movement since, no signs of life in the tall grass.
“Do you think the kid’s okay?” Angel asked, interrupting my obsession with the view on the other side of the glass.
“I hope so.” My attention veered to the SUV in front of me, where the guys had stowed Rafe’s son. I’d expected him to run for it the instant they left, but he hadn’t budged, so I figured the ponytail guy’s sharp order to stay put had gotten through to him.
I could have checked on him, could have made sure he was okay—that he wasn’t scared or cold or sick to his stomach from the trauma—but truth be told, I had no idea what to say to a kid who’d just been rescued from the type of harrowing situation he’d come from.
I was too traumatized myself, too much of an emotional wreck, and that made me question if I had what it took to be a mother. The negative thoughts arrowed straight to my belly, and I slid a hand over the life growing there, praying that I’d get it figured out by the time the baby arrived.
