“Listen to me, King.” Garrett’s assertion pounded the air with shockingly calm command. “This changes nothing about the deal.”
He grabbed her and tucked her tighter behind him, but not before Sage got a longer look at his profile. Between the ruthless granite of his gaze, the rugged set of his mouth, and the maturity added by the false facial hair, he really had been transformed into a different person. Yes, she realized that was the whole idea of undercover work, but this makeover was different. Some parts of him weren’t makeup and costume glue. Some parts were wholly the man he’d become—the man who, crazily enough, had to be in disguise for her to see clearly for the first time. Gone was the reckless soldier boy who’d battled bar drunks for her. This was Garrett the man, sitting in front of a madman’s gun for her. Who might still take a bullet from that gun for her.
The man she loved so deeply, now more than ever.
King’s hyena laugh sliced her thoughts apart. The man poked his gun harder at Garrett in emphasis. “This changes nothing?” he barked. “Is that so? On what fucking planet does it change nothing for you, Sergeant Hawkins?”
Garrett’s composure stayed as resolute as the heights of Rainier. He nodded at the briefcase. “You have your money. We have what we came here for. This doesn’t have to get messy. Take your payoff and go.”
Sage expected another of the man’s smarmy chortles. When King’s response was a glowering silence instead, she admitted a jolt of bafflement—and terror. She didn’t like being wrong or scared about a monster like him.
“Is that what you think?” asked the bastard. “You truly deem that I got what I came here for?”
“He’s on the straight up, dickwad.” The intrusion came from Zeke, who also looked five times more menacing despite a beard and nose that must’ve been stolen from an Abraham Lincoln costume set. “The money’s all there. And it’s all real.”
“Oh ho, no doubt it is!” King rebutted. “Just as it is all marked, no doubt, by the—how did you put it—asshats who supplied it to you.”
“Guess I should take that as a compliment,” Wyatt spoke up, likely as a calculated move to swing King’s head around to where he still stood between Josie and Rayna. “The wrapping job is mine. Took a long time too, when we got all that flow from the bank after selling off Garrett’s condo.”
Sage’s heartbeat seized again on the stunned setting. Garrett sold the condo to do this? He loved the condo even more than she did. Stupid, sacrificing, amazing man. She would’ve battered him raw if he wasn’t sitting there with nearly ten guns aimed at his beautiful heart.
Damn it, she had to help fix this! But how? She was sitting here, literally a sitting duck, trapped naked in nothing but a flannel blanket, and—
Wait.
Naked. Blanket.
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. She had more than what she needed, didn’t she?
King’s distraction with Wyatt gave her the ideal opportunity to start repositioning herself, inch by inch. Garrett felt her shifting and tried to grab her ankle in the guise of soothing her, but she dug her heel into his fingers with rebellious resolve.
“So should I now call you the rubber-band man?” King cracked at Garrett’s uncle. “Surely you don’t still prefer Gustav? Or maybe you’ll just tell me who the fuck you really are.”
“No need to get testy. The name’s Wyatt Hawkins. You won’t mind if I continue to call you Mr. Cocksucker, right?”
“Hawkins,” drawled King. “So big daddy bear has come to save the wee one?”
“I’m his uncle. And he hasn’t needed saving since the days I was balls-deep in your mama, assface. I came for her.” He cut Josie out of her blindfold and cuffs and then did the same to Rayna. “And her.” He nodded toward Sage. “And her. And needless to say, my trigger finger gets awfully twitchy when it’s covered in rubber-band burns. So if you don’t mind, we’ll be toodelooing now.”
King responded to that by raising a hand. As Sage expected, all the guards jumped to high alert. Three of them lurched toward Wyatt, Josie, and Rayna. There were two dedicated to Garrett alone. The rest lurched into the same raised hackle mode, covering both doors, ready to shoot an ant on the wall if it moved.
None of them were paying attention to the naked girl in the blanket.
Which made it completely easy to sneak along the back of the couch. And surprisingly effortless to take a stance on the armrest as she peeled the blanket loose, spreading it outward, exposing her nudity in full glory. And outright fun to watch at least three of the soldiers turn to her with worshipful gapes.
And completely awesome to leap forward on a wild yell as she tossed the thing onto the idiots.
She jumped down to advance on the other guards, who struggled to comprehend that bare tits, ass, and other accessories were coming after them like a banshee on a vendetta. That was fine by her. She was a banshee on a vendetta.
She veered to the left, back into the dungeon area where Garrett had taken her to the moon and back. The whip rack lay two steps in. She grabbed a couple of the shorter single tails before turning back to face the three goons who’d followed her.
“Who wants a crack at me first, gentlemen?” She braced her legs and snapped the poppers on the floor, splitting the air with a pair of frightening cracks. “Huh. That was pretty cool, huh? Must’ve been beginner’s luck. You know, these things take practice. I’ve only played around with one, years ago. I’m not very good at all. God only knows what I’ll hit in my current delirium.” She flicked the leather lengths again. The soldiers scampered backward.
“Sage. Holy fuck!” The bellow came from Garrett, but she didn’t take her sights off the three henchmen in front of her.
“Do not listen to the bitch!” King screamed. “Take her down, damn you. Take her down!”
“The only things going down are your weapons, assholes.” She took a second to pray before cutting one of the whips at the closest guard. The lash came nowhere near her intended target, the guy’s gun hand, but it did flick into his crotch, making him fall to the floor in groaning agony. His gun slid away as he grabbed his balls and sobbed. Her heartbeat roaring, the heat of her terror burning behind her eyes, she bared her teeth at the remaining pair of goons. “Who’s next?”
The guards vacillated. They looked to King, only to discover that Zeke had used her antics as the ideal distraction. Their boss’s glare had a distinct new accessory—the butt of Z’s pistol.
“That’s such a pretty forty-five, cocksucker,” Zeke murmured. “I think my buddy would dig getting a closer look at it.” He dipped a glance at Wyatt. “Why don’t you set it down on the floor now. Yep, right there is fine. Do me a favor and slide it over to him.”
When King obeyed the first part of the demand but defiantly kicked the pistol in the opposite direction from Wyatt, Z let out a chuckle. “Ooohhh, you’re so cute, King. I love how you make me giggle in girlish delight.”
The guards in front of Sage huffed in frustration. “Screw this,” one of them blurted. He bolted from the building. The other three, including the guy she’d just whipped in the balls, rushed out after him. King roared in rage when the sound of a started car came from the open door. The engine purred, likely that of a Jag, BMW, or high-end Mercedes. Obviously, the goons had chosen King’s personal car for their escape.