Love’s Bounty (9 page)

“It seems, my dear, there is a thief in my organization,” Jameson said.

“Screw you.” Mark spit blood in Jameson’s direction and was rewarded with a fist to his battered torso. The sound of his knees slamming into the wood floor made Deirdre gasp.

“Gentlemen, please. Not in front of the lady.” Jameson clasped his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on either side of his plate. “It seems Mr. Pearson wanted to help himself to some extra merchandise without paying.” He turned to Deirdre. “You see, he’s been helping me distribute my product for several months now. He and some of his former students.” Jameson made ticking sounds with his tongue. “The only problem was his soft spot for you, Deirdre. It appears he set you up for the arrest by putting heroin under the seat and calling the police himself. He thought I’d fire you and get you out of harm’s way. Quite selfless on his part. But he didn’t count on my compassion or thoroughness.”

Deirdre couldn’t hide her confusion.

“He tried to stash away an extra kilo of heroine in the yard debris. My men found it when they emptied your truck.”

“Mark? I…”

“Oh, don’t judge the man. A teacher’s salary is hardly enough to retire comfortably on these days, Deirdre. Especially when one’s wife is in the last stages of cancer, and the medical bills keep mounting.”

Mark shook his head. She saw so much pain there. Deirdre didn’t know if it was from Jameson’s revelation or the physical agony of the beating.

“Get this man out of my sight; he’s ruining my appetite. We’ll deal with him tonight.” Jameson picked up his fork. “And since Deirdre’s decided not to eat, escort her upstairs as well. Lock them in separate bedrooms. We don’t need to have them chatting.”

* * * *

Adrenaline coursed through Ayden’s veins, heightening all of his senses. Ryan sat in the front seat of the Jag, his knee bouncing nervously. Ayden hoped he’d picked the right guy. Dave had been so nervous, he’d been vomiting since they’d left Jameson’s this afternoon. He was sitting with the backup team, ready to storm the estate when his computer guys made the bogus money transfer and the drugs were in Ayden’s possession.

The headlights of the Jag cut a large swath through the gloom of the pine trees lining the deserted road.

Ayden checked his wire by running each team through their paces. One group of men was positioned to stop any plane that landed at the Wesley airstrip. He had a second team sitting on a Coast Guard cutter, out of visual range of Jameson’s estate. But the bulk of manpower was poised to move on the mansion and bring down everyone there. That’s where Ayden would be, right next to Jameson, putting the cuffs on the slime-ball himself. Revenge was in his grasp. Nothing would go wrong tonight.

When it was finished, with Jameson in police custody and the drug shipment in DEA hands, he’d head straight over to Delmont and Deirdre’s arms.

He loved her.

Two days away from her had erased any doubts he might have had. He would make a life with her away from the lonely streets of
Boston. The DEA had offices here in
Maine
. A desk job would suit him just fine. A husband and father couldn’t be taking chances with his life. And that’s what he intended to be.

He hadn’t seen Deirdre’s truck at the mansion today, but it had only lightened his step knowing she was tucked away with her family and not anywhere near that asshole. Now, he could focus completely on bringing down Jameson’s drug cartel.

* * * *

Deirdre didn’t need to see the gun to know there was one trained on her. She felt it the same way she felt Jameson’s hand sliding up and down the inside of her thigh. His pinky stroked her sex with each pass. She wanted to throw up.

Mark sat across from them in the limousine. His battered body was slumped away from the muscled man leering at his boss’s hand on her crotch. Mark’s breathing was shallow, but steady. She thought probably he’d passed out again from the pain. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness since they’d been reunited an hour earlier. She wondered how much internal damage the beatings had done to the man.

The limo stopped. They’d left the mansion less than fifteen minutes ago. They must still be on the property, but the tinted windows made it difficult to see anything outside the vehicle.

“Do stay here, love.” Jameson brought his finger to his nose and inhaled. “Ah, Deirdre, such a shame to waste a prime piece of real estate. But sacrifices must be made. If only you’d chosen me instead of Schaeffer, things would have turned out so differently.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And do be a good little woman and keep your mouth shut. Anthony, you’re with me.” The two men climbed out of the limo. The snick of the locks followed their shadows into the darkness.

* * * *

“You understand we can’t be too cautious,
Austin.”

Jameson’s man tore open his shirt. He’d expected it. There was no visible wire, it was in his watch. The Jag was parked next to the scrub brush, the GPS in its chassis telegraphing their position. Ayden could see the lights of the mansion far up on the hill. He’d guessed right. They were coming in via the ocean. The sliver of moon hanging in the starry sky did nothing to illuminate their surroundings.

“He’s clean. This is his only gun.” The hulk of a man walked over to Jameson, waving his regulation Glock.

It wasn’t his only weapon. Only a fool would come armed with only one gun. There was a second one in the small of his back, but the bulk of the regulation shoulder holster had kept the thug from finding it.

“I don’t see any lights, Jameson,” Ayden said. “Are you trying to pull something over on me? We had a deal. You promised thirty kilos tonight. I have men ready to move on this shipment.”

“My, you are an impatient one, aren’t you, Schaeffer?”

Ayden heard the low rumble of vehicles approaching from the beach.

Jameson looked over the shoulder of his man clicking the keys of the laptop propped on the hood of the limo. The evil squint of his eyes was made more ominous by the blue glow of the screen. “Right on time.” Jameson turned back to Ayden. “Don’t look so confused, Shaeffer. Amphibious assault vehicles. I have men on the beach erasing evidence of their arrival as we speak.” With an absent wave of his hand, Jameson motioned to the computer. “Now, if you don’t mind, those account numbers, please.” He turned to his man standing in the shadows of the limousine. “And, Anthony, if you’d do the honors at the same time.”

The mountain man moved to the door of the limo. Ayden had all he could do not to grab the gun at his back.

“Hold it right there. I don’t know what you’re playing at Jameson. No one moves, and no money changes hands until I see my merchandise.”

“Oh, but I think you’ll like this little surprise I have for you.”

The man he called Anthony had opened the backdoor. Without any effort, he hauled a struggling woman from the car.

“Schaeffer, you remember my landscaper, Deirdre.”

At the sound of her name, Ayden lost focus and grabbed his gun, aiming it at Jameson. The night filled with the rolling clicks of guns being cocked. In the blink of an eye, Jameson had Deirdre positioned in front of his body, his gun pressed against her temple. For a brief moment, Ayden wondered if anyone else would materialize from the limo. When no one else moved, he focused his attention and assessed their situation.

Ryan and the thug had their guns pointed at each other. Even the computer geek had come armed, his gun sweeping between Ayden and Ryan.
Three to two; not good odds.
Even if Ayden called in his men, Deirdre would be dead before they hit the estate. How the hell had Jameson kidnapped her? Ayden’s stomach rolled, and he worked to swallow the panic leaping into his throat with his heart.

“An unfortunate standoff, I’d say. Wouldn’t you?” Jameson ran his tongue up Deirdre’s cheek. “Umm, good enough to eat. But you already know that don’t you, Schaeffer? Or should I call you by your real name, Ayden Scott?”

Ayden didn’t know if the rumble in his ears was from the approaching vehicles or the blood pounding.

“It’s been a while.” Jameson’s cackle rolled through Ayden’s clenched gut. “You almost had me in
Miami, Scott.
Almost.
But just like then, I’m going to disappear tonight, and you’ll be left with nothing but a body. Even the DEA won’t take you back this time, Scott.” He rubbed his face through Deirdre’s hair.

Deirdre struggled in Jameson’s arms. “Shoot him, Ayden. You can’t let him get away with this. Don’t let him go.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Jameson spoke through clenched teeth, moving the gun under her chin, pressing deeply into her tender flesh. “She is a feisty one, Ayden. I’m only sorry I didn’t get to sample the goods.” He leaned into her ear. “Did he tell you when he was fucking you that the two of us go way back? Further even than his drug addiction.”

Ayden watched Jameson palm Deirdre’s breast as rage replaced the panic. “Shut up, Jameson, it’s over. You’ll never get out of this one alive.”

“Oh, I take that as a ‘no.’” Jameson continued fondling Deirdre. “Right after his little brother died, he left the DEA for a life on the streets. Succumbed to the same drugs he’d been trying to keep me from selling.” He lifted his head and yelled into the night. “What was it, Scott? Six months? A year before you were clean and reinstated? Imagine my surprise when I figured out who you were.”

The rumble of idling motors filtered through Ayden’s haze of disbelief. He couldn’t shoot Jameson without harming Deirdre, but if he didn’t do something, she’d be dead, anyway.

“Now, I think we’ll just climb right back in the limo and follow my shipment.” Jameson sidestepped around the front fender of the limo. He stopped to let his man shut the computer. Jameson had no intention of selling him the drugs. This was all an elaborate setup to expose him and ruin his career. Now Jameson intended to kill them all. Frustration and fear gnawed at Ayden’s gut, and he had to fight to tamp it down.

“I’ll just take little Deirdre with me.” Jameson’s voice vibrated with the thrill of victory. “You can pick her body up at the mansion. Though shooting her won’t be quite as satisfying as plunging that needle into your little brother’s arm.” Jameson stopped moving.

“You didn’t know that part did you, Scott?” His hacking laugh crawled up Ayden’s spine. “He wasn’t addicted to heroin until I got a hold of him. Oh, you would have been so proud of your baby brother, Ayden. After I forced him to feed you the fictitious drop information, and he knew his life was over, he kept telling me you’d find me. Even as the heroin coursed through him, sucking the life from him, he talked about his big brother—the DEA’s rising star.”

The darkness faded away, and Ayden saw only red. He couldn’t let the bastard get away. But with Deirdre complicating the situation, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He would sacrifice his career before Deirdre.

“I’m here, Jameson. You need any help?’

Jameson turned to the sound of a man’s voice. “Emilio, right on time. We’ll take the limo; you stay here with Anthony and take care of this garbage. Dump everything in the ocean. There’ll be nothing left of their bodies after the fish have had their fill. Be sure to ditch the Jag as well. Meet us back up at the estate”

The man Ayden had seen Deirdre with on Saturday materialized out of the shadows, probably coming from one of the vehicles. He held a gun aimed directly at Ayden’s head.

“Four against two. I think we’re in deep shit,” Ayden mumbled.

Without warning, the limo door swung open, shoving Anthony backwards and pulling Jameson’s attention away from Ayden. Glass shattered as Anthony’s gun discharged, starting off a volley of shots. Shit, there wasn’t supposed to be any shooting.

Ayden pulled off two rounds. His second shot took down the computer guy, silencing his gun. He hoped his first bullet had done some damage to Jameson before the man took cover behind the stretch limousine. Ayden’s feet carried him around the back fender of the car. The night had gone deathly still.

Emilio stood over Mark, the smoke of his gun illuminated in the faint glow of the interior lights slanting through the open backdoor. Blood oozed from the old man’s chest. Emilio looked up at Ayden, his eyes wide.

“That wasn’t in the plan.” Emilio’s voice shook with emotion. “It must have been the first shot from Jameson’s henchman.”

“Deirdre, where’s Deirdre?” Ayden pushed around the stunned man, stepping over Anthony’s dead body. Blood ran from his neck where Emilio’s bullet had penetrated. This thing was a mess. A goddamn mess.

Jameson lay face down. The back of his head was missing where Ayden’s bullet had exited. He rolled Jameson off Deirdre’s lifeless body and saw the entry wound just over the man’s right eye.

Goddamn bastard may have killed her. Fear stung the back of Ayden’s eyes and filled his mouth with sand. Blood, there was so much friggin’ blood. It covered Deirdre’s face, clumped in her hair and ran in streaks across her eyelids and nose. She was so still.
Please don’t let her be dead
.

“Someone call an ambulance,” Ayden shouted at Ryan as he came around the front of the limo. Ayden fell to his knees on the sandy soil. He couldn’t lose another person he loved.

Training took over. His hands searched for bullet wounds. He leaned over, listening for the sound of breaths as his fingers checked her supple neck for a pulse. She inhaled sharply. Her arms flailed in the air and pushed him away.

“Deirdre, it’s Ayden. Baby, shh. You’re hurt. Lie still.”

“My head, oh, my head.” Deirdre rolled to the side. The rock beneath her hair was covered in her blood. She hadn’t been shot, just knocked unconscious when Jameson pulled her down. The blood on her face must have been Jameson’s. Relief flooded through him.

“Ayden?” Her eyes worked to focus in the murky light. “What the…?” He watched her face contort with confusion, the lines morphing to reveal her concern as the memories of the last few minutes worked themselves into her consciousness. “Ayden, are you all right? Jameson?” Deirdre pushed away from him, her head swiveling in all directions. “Emilio’s here. Watch out, Ayden, he has a gun.”