A Perfect Storm
Page 117

Nothing that would slow her down once she was free.
“You’ve got something else on Quin, though, don’t you?”
Joel shrugged as if it didn’t matter, as if telling her would have no consequences at all. “He has a sister. Or rather, I have his sister.” He laughed.
“Huh? No kidding?” No way would she tell him that Quin had already shared that info.
She felt the binding loosen. Almost free. “Where is it you have her?”
“I keep most of the girls at my home, in the cool, comfy cellar.”
“Where is that exactly?”
He tipped his head. “Still plotting? Still thinking that you might get away?” His laugh had a demonic ring to it. “Foolish girl.”
“I know where he lives,” Quinto whispered, his gaze going a little wild. “I know.”
“Yes, but your sister isn’t there, is she Quin?” Smiling, he checked a nail.
“Why not?” Arizona asked as if it didn’t really matter. “You have her somewhere else?” Where?
“Actually, she was on a delivery truck due to come in, but with Terry Janes shut down…” He shrugged. “I’ll be able to find out, though, and then I’ll get her.”
Quinto deflated.
Arizona did not. She took great pleasure in saying, “Yeah…guess again.” She stared him in the eyes—just a minute more, and she’d have her hands loose. “That truck has already been recovered.”
“No.”
“Yup.” She turned to Quin. “Everyone on it is safe.”
“Safe?” For several seconds Quin stood there, then he collapsed to his knees beside her. “You are sure?”
“She’s lying!” Joel yelled. “She can’t know that.”
“Actually, I can and do know all sorts of things.” Through the window, in the distance, Arizona saw Spencer come over a crumbling concrete wall, Trace right behind him. That meant Dare was watching the back, and Jackson, no doubt, remained hidden with a sniper rifle.
Her priority now was getting Quin out of this cluster-fuck without him getting hurt. “Everyone who was on that truck is safe—and you’re as good as dead.”
Joel’s hands bunched into fists. “No one is going to kill me.” He took a purposeful, threatening stride toward her.
She was ready—but then Quin lurched forward, putting himself in the way. “No, don’t.”
God save her from heroes. “Uh, Quin…how about you move?”
Joel heaved with anger. He withdrew a small gun from his pocket. “Get out of my way.”
Quin braced himself, saying, “I cannot. You’ve done enough.”
Joel aimed the gun, and Arizona rushed to say, “Quin, seriously, dude, stand back, okay?”
He kept his back to her so he could continue to watch Joel. “I am so sorry.”
“I know. Don’t sweat it.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t understand you.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Just do me a favor and don’t stand too close to me.”
Before he could oblige, Joel slugged him in the temple with the gun, and Quin staggered, falling to one knee. Joel used his foot to shove him aside.
She felt for Quin, but she wouldn’t let him distract her. Her gaze bored into Joel. “You never stood much of a chance. But now you’ve sealed your fate.”
“Big talk—for a woman bound.”
Her head didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. Fury obliterated every other feeling. She held his gaze, refusing to let him look away. “Even with my hands tied, I will annihilate you.”
Quin groaned.
Joel said to him, “Shut up.” But then, showing his concern, he started to the front to look out the window, asking, “You were followed? You brought friends to help you?” He saw his two guards still standing there.
Reassured, even cocky, he returned to Arizona. The gun held loosely in his hand, he crossed his arms and grinned at her. “You almost had me. I was almost convinced that you’d brought along an army.”
“Not an army, no.” But given their skill, they might as well have been. “So, come on, then. I can see you’re feeling feisty. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Though she kept her posture relaxed, her hands behind her, she was ready, more than ready.
Haltingly, a little unsure despite his boastful words, Joel took a step toward her, raising his fist to strike her—and she kicked him hard in the balls. As he grabbed for himself, she kicked up again, and this time got him in the solar plexus. He wheezed and fell backward.
She was off the mattress in a heartbeat, her knife held in her now bloody hands.
Hysterical at seeing her free, Joel scuttled backward, screaming, “Guards! Get in here!”
One big bruiser burst in from the back, a gun in his hand—but before Joel could get too excited about that, the glass in the back window shattered. As if in slow motion, the man lurched forward from the force of a bullet. Blood bloomed on his chest—and he collapsed face-first to the floor.
Smug, Arizona said, “Told you so.”
Shaking, Joel took aim, but she moved fast, slicing his wrist with her knife. The blade cut through tendons and muscles with ease.
He screamed as the gun dropped from his hand, blood streaming along his arm, his face going white in shock and pain.
“Oh, my God,” he wailed. “What have you done?” Holding his wrist, big tears in his eyes, he whimpered as he fell back against the wall and then slowly slipped down to the floor. He looked at her, his expression wounded. “Oh, my God.”