The first location was a bust. A small house in the middle of a slum with one guard sitting on the porch. I waited and watched for an hour. There was no movement inside, there were no other men patrolling. There was absolutely nothing going on. I was so hopped up on adrenaline that I’d almost lurched from the car, shot the man on the porch and busted my way inside to check it out just because, but somehow I’d manage to control myself.

My phone vibrates on the seat next to the gun. Liam.

I swipe the screen. “Do you have her?” The words rush from my lips.

“No. I’m on my way to the second property now.”

I swallow past the ever growing lump in my throat. “Me too. There’s nothing here.”

Hanging up the phone I eye the guy on the porch for a moment before putting the car in gear and pulling out. Two down, two to go.

The drive to the second property allows entirely too much time to think. I’ve made so many needless mistakes. Told so many lies. And all to the people I care about most. If Liam finds Aubry, and Detective Salve is called, I mentally vow to come clean and take whatever punishment is served. I never thought my piece in all this would be as severe or hit as close to home as it has. Smuggling was for fun. A cheap thrill and spending cash. I assumed it was drugs, which is bad enough, but if I’m honest, I didn’t really care about that. I never would have participated had I known I was smuggling people. A wave of nausea slaps me as I think about all the needless lives I’ve potentially ruined. I’m sincerely hoping Liam isn’t the one to find Aubry. I don’t want him implicated in my mess. I don’t want to face the look Nora will give me if I do. Irritation at myself and my choices eats my insides like a cancer. Before I could ignore the clawing dissatisfaction in my stupidity, my need for recklessness, but now I’m buckling beneath it. I focus on the road, my mind racing, my body on high alert.

I drive past the property the first time because there is no good place to pull off and park that is hidden. I leave the car a mile up the road on a dirt path between some trees. I hike toward the back of the property, mouth dry, heart pounding. From the tree line of the once stately farmhouse, I watch. Two guards circle the house, rotating clockwise. All muscle and masculinity. A thick silence settles around me. I itch to make a move but I need to do this right. I can’t make a single mistake. If I do, Aubry will suffer. I text Liam to let him know there’s a lot of activity at this house then set my phone on silent and tuck it in my back pocket.

Moving through pockets of waist deep grass, I crawl toward the house. Moving so slowly makes me feel like a caged animal. I’m ready to pounce. Halfway there I rip a piece of my shirt off and tie back my hair which keeps flopping in my eyes. When I’m close enough that I’m confident, I wait in the grass for the first guard to pass by me. Waiting is agony.

The first shot is a miss, and even with the silencer on the shot makes far too much noise, I stand, trying not to panic and take aim as the man scans for the source of the sound. My second shot pierces his neck. He drops his weapon, clutching at his throat as blood rapidly begins to seep out. My hands shake, my eyes dart and my body twitches as I watch him try to call for help. Unable to watch a man die, I crouch back down in the grass, waiting for the next man to swing around the house.

On one, I inhale, at two, I exhale, and on three, I stand, take aim and hold my breath when I pull the trigger. The second man drops to the ground, thick brown oozing from his head. Breathing hard, completely drained, I run to the house and press myself against the wood board siding. I allow myself a bone-deep sigh before I begin to slink around the exterior of the house. My hands tremble and I fight to slow my rapid breaths.

At the front, I’m surprised to see no one standing watch. I creep up the porch steps and listen. Shouts ring out, although I can’t understand them. Russian is a language I’ll never learn. I peek through the window closest to the front door.

Her swings are short and full of urgency. Aubry is at the bottom of the stairs with a short stick, standing nearly bare between three men. Her teeth are bared like a trapped animal and blood trickles down her temple. She’s wild. Pure rage and survival. My heart kicks into overdrive. No one touches her. No one.

My mind drills down until I can’t see anything but that what’s immediately before me.

Door knob.

Twist.

Push.

Man.

Trigger pull.

Man.

Trigger pull.

Man.

Trigger pull.

Aubry.

I pause and blink away the strange sensation of rage and tunnel vision. Her shoulders quake. Tears sprout from her eyes. She hurdles at me, slamming to a stop against my chest and sucks in a pained gasp. I’m dazed but manage to wrap an arm around her and hold her to me.

“Put the gun down.” The voice is throaty and menacing. My gaze snaps to the sound to find a pistol aimed at my head. Aubry whimpers in agony. Her wounded mewl snaps me from my stupor.

Yuri.

“Let us go.” My voice is firm but not menacing. He could. He could let us walk out of here.