Tristan stepped through the door cautiously. Considering the back door was still unlocked, it was by far the easiest place he’d ever broken into, but getting inside was only the first hurdle. Finding what he was looking for would be something else. It would be relatively easy considering the small amount of furniture inside the house. It also helped that he’d searched his share of homes.
Usually when he started a search, he had a better idea of what he was looking for. But he wasn’t clueless either. Something probably fireproof. Something inside the house. And, for whatever reason, something that Damask was unable to have his men remove.
As he stepped farther into the house, he listened carefully for anything to indicate that he wasn’t alone. So far he didn’t hear anything, but he didn’t let his guard down as he started on his search. There could be someone in hiding, and there was very likely a hidden camera alerting someone to his presence. He wouldn’t truly feel safe until he was looking at this place in his rearview mirror.
And that was exactly why he was here alone. Because he wasn’t about to let Shae put herself in the line of danger. Hearing her talk about leaving him had pushed him over the edge. He wanted to fight. To say this wasn’t just a one-off thing. That he had no intention of leaving her.
But to do that, they needed to solve the Damask problem. And he needed to solve that in a way she didn’t get hurt. He was sure she’d be pissed at him, but if she was alive, she’d be much more likely to get over it than if she were six feet under. It was apparent now more than ever that he couldn’t let her go. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to let Damask take her away from him.
He started upstairs. In his experience, most flame-proof safes were generally in bedrooms. People liked to sleep close to their valuables and dirty secrets. He went through the rooms carefully, checking for hollow spots in the wall or floor. He’d just finished the second story and was heading to the main floor when he heard someone enter the house. Automatically, he reached for his gun and held it at his side. He stood utterly still. From this angle, he wasn’t exposed on the stairs, but if he moved, he knew he’d make noise. Holding his breath, Tristan prepared himself as the footsteps got closer.
But there was no preparation for the death stare that Shae gave him as she rounded the corner. “You son of—”
“Let’s pretend we’re civil.” Hunter came up behind Shae and looked up at Tristan. “What the fuck, dude?”
Before Tristan could answer, he heard the sound of glass breaking, and the next thing he knew, Hunter was collapsing to the ground. Tristan immediately ran forward until he tackled Shae to the ground. It was only once he confirmed that she wasn’t hit that he could look around. Hunter had been hit in his left side, and from here, he couldn’t tell whether the bullet had pierced the heart.
“Tristan....”
Her voice brought his priorities home. He needed to keep her safe. If Hunter had found him, that meant Hart and the rest of the team would too. The bullet had come through one of the giant windows overlooking the ocean, which meant the shooter was out there somewhere with a high-powered rifle. Keeping his body between Shae and the windows, he rushed her to the closest door he saw, which apparently led to the basement. Shit. They were basically backing themselves into a corner, but he wasn’t about to go back out there.
He could just see Hunter’s shoulders and head. It looked as if he were still breathing, but he was definitely unconscious. Tristan repeatedly hit the stress beacon on his watch.
“Tristan,” said Shae from behind him. “I need to tell you something.”
“Not really a great time.”
“It’s about Damask. I know what he’s after.”
He turned to look at Shae, who was a few steps below him on the stairs. “Since when?”
“I had an idea yesterday, but I wasn’t sure. “
“What is it?”
Before she could answer, more footsteps sounded upstairs. Tristan hoped like hell it was backup, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. With a jerk of his head, he and Shae went down the stairs as quietly as possible. He ushered her to the darkest corner of the basement. “Stay here,” he warned.
“But—”
“No buts! Hart will be here soon. We just need to keep them busy until then.”
The door above them was pushed farther open, widening the beam of light shining into the basement.
Tristan pushed Shae into the shadows as he stepped back. “Don’t shoot!” he called up. “I’m not here to cause any trouble!”
He expected the careful footsteps of a mercenary, but instead a calm, relaxed gait came down the stairs. The second he saw the expensive European leather shoes, Tristan knew who it was. “Damask. Nice of you to join us.”
“You see,” said Damask as his well-armored backup appeared at the top of the stairs, the assault rifle pointed right at Tristan, “I think you’re lying. In fact, I think you’ve caused me nothing but trouble.”
Tristan went through all the different ways he could play this. “You got me all wrong, man. I’m just doing a job here.”
Damask reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. “This brings back memories.”
“You have a lot of good times in dark, deserted basements?” asked Tristan.
“Good is relative.” Damask gave a hand signal to the man behind him. “Let’s end this.”
The guy started to pull the trigger and Tristan held out his hands. “I—”
“You’re in my house.” Shae stepped out from her hiding spot. “I think you should leave before I call in reinforcements.”
Tristan’s body flooded with fear. What the fuck was she doing? Didn’t she realize what danger they were in?
Damask seemed shocked at her apparent misunderstanding of who had the upper hand here. “Miss, I believe you already know that the police don’t scare me.”
“Liar.” Everyone went so quiet, they would’ve been able to hear a pin drop. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with liars lately, and I like to think I’m pretty good at recognizing one now. I know what you want from this house. I know exactly where it is. Tell me, is it frustrating?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Damask, but this time with something else in his voice. This time with a hint of fear.
“You’re so used to having other people do your bidding. You threaten them, force them, write them fat checks. But you don’t trust any of them. Not really. Not enough to do the one task you couldn’t do yourself.”
“You don’t know—”
“The barrel. I’m talking about the barrel.”
Even in the dark basement, Tristan could see Damask pale.
“I found it my first week here. It was pretty well hidden in the storage room, but I do a thorough search of even the darkest places. I would’ve thrown it out if it weren’t so damn heavy. I bet you weren’t expecting it to be that heavy when you filled it. It’s why you left it here, hidden.” Damask started to say something, but Shae didn’t give him a chance. “You couldn’t let anyone else carry the barrel out because of what was in it. Your biggest mistake. The one thing they could hold over you.”
Finally Tristan caught on. “What did you leave in that barrel, Damask? Prints? DNA? I bet it’s a forensic team’s dream come true in there.”
Damask nodded. “You’re both smart. Too smart for your own good. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that I’m a winner. And the likes of you aren’t going to bring me down. We’re done here.” He lifted his hand and Tristan didn’t have to be trained to know he was giving a kill order. His first thought was for Shae and he went running for her. But the shot rang out long before he reached her.
––––––––
––––––––
Shae was shaking with the weight of the gun in her hands as Tristan reached her. She’d never fired a gun before, but when she’d seen Damask’s man aim at Tristan, she had gone on autopilot. She was pretty sure her aim sucked, but because she was just a few feet away from the stairs, she’d managed to hit the poor guy in the shoulder. She’d been aiming for a leg, but the gun had kicked up. Now that his giant rifle clattered down the stairs, she decided the shoulder was the better option.
Tristan took the gun from her and aimed it at Damask. “I think it’s time you learn your manners.”
“Don’t shoot!” Damask held up his hands. He suddenly looked so much smaller than she ever remembered him before.
Shae set a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Don’t,” she warned. “What we have on him is more than even Perlman can wash away. I think it’s time to call the police.”