But I keep weeping. I’ve been so utterly terrified and seeing him brings it all to the forefront again.

I twist in my bonds, anxious as Daniel hugs his sister, and I see the relief and happiness in his face as he pulls her close. I know that look—he’s accomplished his goal now. He’s found his long-missing sister. He can go home now.

Strange how that scares me. If Daniel’s done here, what does it mean for me? Is he going to send me home with a pat on the back and a few memories?

Now’s not the time to think about it, though. Just as quickly as he hugged his sister, he heads over to me, and his knife rips apart Naomi’s careful knots in a matter of seconds. Then he drags me into his arms and buries his face in my neck. I feel a tremble rush through him, and I realize with wonder that he was as scared for me as he was for his sister.

And my tears start all over again.

“I’m sorry,” I say, huddling against Daniel. “I was trying to be a fighter, but they took my clothes and chained me in that room, and I-I couldn’t—” A broken sob escapes my throat.

“Shhh.” He strokes my hair. “You’re the bravest girl I know. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

I cling to him and then begin to press frantic kisses to his face, his throat, anywhere I can find skin. I’m so relieved to see him. I knew he’d come back for me, but knowing and seeing are two different things—and in the long minutes when I was trapped, naked, in Hudson’s sex prison, I worried that my luck had run out. That there would be no happy ever after for me.

Naomi makes a disgruntled noise at our hugging, so Daniel reluctantly pulls away, dragging me to my feet after him. His hand clutches mine tight, and I’m so glad. Then he releases it and offers me a gun, which makes me almost as happy.

He goes back to Naomi and looks his sister over. She cringes, wrinkling her nose as he hugs her close again and touches her, looking for bruises. “You’re okay, Naomi? You’re not hurt?”

She holds up a finger. “I have a paper cut.”

He laughs, and for a moment he looks so relieved that I want to laugh, too. “No, I mean, did these assholes hurt you? Did they touch you?”

“I don’t know why you’re discounting my paper cut,” Naomi says, disgruntled. “It’s quite deep.”

Daniel leans in and gives her a rough kiss on the cheek. “I love you, you nut. You know that, right?”

“I’m fine,” she says in a softer voice. “If that’s what you’re asking. No one has hurt me.” She puts her hands out and begins to straighten Daniel’s clothing, adjusting his collar and smoothing a wrinkle out of his sleeve.

“Thank God.” He seems to visibly deflate for a moment, and then he looks over at me. “Come on,” he says. “We need to get out of here. We’ve got one more guy to find, and then we’re busting out of this turkey farm.”

“This is not a turkey farm,” Naomi says, a furrow of concern on her brow. Her fingers dance along the brim of her cap again, apparently a nervous reaction. “This is an extremist compound. And if they find out I’ve escaped, they will kill Mom and Dad. I can’t leave.”

“They’re not going to kill anyone, Naomi. I promise.” Daniel’s words are so confident, even I believe them. “Now, come on. We have to get out of here.”

But Naomi hesitates, then shakes her head. She turns back to her desk and begins to straighten things, as if a tidy room will stop the anxiety she’s feeling. “I can’t leave. I can’t. Everyone gets hurt if I leave.”

Daniel casts his sister an exasperated look when she sits back down again and then moves to my side. “You okay, fighter?”

I nod, unable to do much more than that.

“Good. Okay. Stay here and shoot anyone that comes through that door unless it’s me or Petrovich. Hell, shoot Petrovich. I don’t give a damn. Keep yourself and Naomi safe and don’t worry about Petrovich. All he cares about is finding the hacker.”

“Here,” Naomi calls from her desk. She raises her hand as if we’re in class.

Before Daniel can say anything in response, a massive form fills the doorway, and we all turn, pointing our guns there.

It’s Petrovich, and for a moment, my finger itches on the trigger. He’s got blood splattered on his face, and he’s wearing the same ridiculous waiter uniform that Daniel is. Except on his enormous body, it’s tight over the arms and looks as if he’s been stuffed into it. Not much of a disguise. He’s got a gun held aloft, and there’s a wild look in his eyes.

“We need to leave right now,” he says in that ominous, deep voice.

“Goodbye,” Naomi says from her workstation, and her voice is sad.

“Did you find the hacker?” Vasily asks.

“Here,” Naomi says again and raises her hand. She doesn’t look at either man, just goes back to typing.

“Naomi’s the Emperor,” I whisper to Daniel, moving closer to him as Petrovich pushes his way into the room. “She’s the hacker. They’re the same person.”

“I know.” He sighs.

“Then she is mine,” Vasily says in a satisfied voice. To Naomi, he says, “You come with me.”

“Now wait a goddamn minute,” Daniel begins.

Naomi stands up, eyes Petrovich in that weird, not-quite-looking-into-your-face way of hers, then reaches out and straightens his collar. “I’m not going with you.”

Daniel

“CAN WE FUCKING TALK ABOUT this later?” There’s no way my little sister is going with that fuckhead Petrovich. I’ll kill him myself if I have to, but I need his muscle to get out.

“There is a caterer’s truck that is stalled, and they have abandoned it. Come now.” Petrovich orders.

“Go.” I gesture toward the women who, after a stalled pause, scamper after Petrovich as he barrels down the hall. We race toward the cellar space beneath the kitchen. Petrovich is first up the stairs. He fires two shots and then curses. When his magazine tumbles down the steps, I realize he’s out of bullets.

“Give him your gun,” I order Regan.

“What?” she clutches the black stock tighter between both hands. “No!”

“Give me the fucking gun, you stupid woman,” Petrovich grabs for the gun, but Regan resists.

“Don’t call her stupid, you asswipe.” I barrel up the stairs past Naomi and pull Regan away. “Here, take my gun. You’re the stupid fuck who ran out of bullets.” Regan scrunches her nose and reluctantly hands me the Ruger. “Thanks, fighter.” I give her quick kiss on her lips and push Petrovich in front of us, using him as a shield. What do I care if his bear of a body gets riddled with bullets? I only want to get my girls out of this fucked-up place.

Two of Hudson’s men are barricaded behind the center kitchen island and fire off a series of rounds when Petrovich’s head peeks out.

“Ebanatyi pidaraz,” he roars and then dives out, shooting five bullets quickly. I hear return fire and hold Regan back. Behind me I hear the harsh breaths of Naomi as her anxiety ratchets up.

“Fucking motherfucker,” she translates unnecessarily or maybe for Regan’s benefit, and then she begins rocking on her heels. “Too loud,” she’s saying repeatedly, her hands over her ears. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I yell the last profanity out loud. I have to get them out. Regan’s crying but places a comforting arm around Naomi’s shoulders. I don’t have time to tell Regan that Naomi isn’t a fan of touching before Naomi lets out a piercing scream.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Naomi,” Regan says, releasing Naomi immediately. My sister is rocking back and forth on her feet, her hands over her ears.

Petrovich is looking at us like we are a circus troupe. A really bad one that he’d like to shoot to put out of our misery.

Fuck this shit.

“Stay here,” I order, and then I dive out toward Petrovich. More rounds are fired off, and I feel a fire in my side. Fuck. I’ve torn open the glued wound. Army crawling toward the back of the island, I can feel tile chunks and plaster pieces raining down on us. “What I wouldn’t give for some C4 right now,” I joke to Petrovich, who merely grunts. “You got a plan?” I ask.

“Shoot. Kill. Leave,” Petrovich answers.

“Nice plan. On two?” I point upward.

He nods in understanding.

“One. Two.” We both spring upward and over the counter. Hudson’s men are still looking to the sides, and it is too late for them because by the time I’m over the counter, I’ve shot both in the head. Petrovich shoots another man at the entrance. For a moment, there is silence. Only the echoes of the bullets remain.

“Now,” I gesture toward the girls with my gun, but Naomi isn’t moving and Regan seems uncertain about following my command and leaving Naomi behind. If I didn’t love her before, my heart about seizes now as I see the care that Regan’s showing toward Naomi. Yeah, Regan’s never getting rid of me.

My side is aching like crazy, but I run toward Naomi—only Petrovich beats me there. He picks her up and slings her over his shoulder as if she’s a sack of rice. “Let’s go.”

I don’t wait for another invitation. Grabbing Regan’s hand, we run outside. The caterer’s van is still there, doors completely open and the metal siding riddled with bullets. I throw Regan inside and Petrovich does the same with Naomi. We slap the doors shut, and then Petrovich heads for the hood. He fiddles with something before coming around the driver’s side.

“Distributor cap?” I ask.

He nods, puts the van in reverse, and floors it. The girls fly backward against their seats. “Get down,” I bark. Regan pulls Naomi down as I lean out the door to shoot at the guards by the front gate that is closing. “Don’t fucking stop this vehicle.”

Petrovich grunts but doesn’t slow. I have six bullets left. There are three guards. The van is swaying like a drunk trying to walk on the train tracks. Lifting the gun, I sight the first guard, the one almost squatting. I shoot his kneecap off, and he topples over. The van lists to the side as Petrovich runs him over.

The guard by the gate is next. He gets two shots. One in the forehead. Poof. One in the chest. For surety. The third guard is on Petrovich’s side, which requires me to haul my ass out of the van and sit in the window so I can shoot him over the top of the van. A lucky return shot wings me in the shoulder and makes my first shot go wide, but I correct and the next two take him down as Petrovich slams into the now-closed gates. The force wrenches me forward, and I would have fallen out of the van window if not for Petrovich and Regan dragging me back inside.

“Thanks, fighter.”

Regan gives me a wan smile. Turning around, I see Naomi curled in a ball on the floor. The only thing that matters is she’s alive. Holy hell. We’re all okay. Petrovich drives like a madman for Tears of God favela and it still seems like it takes too long. “I think I ripped the glue on my side,” I tell Regan.

She looks worriedly at me. “Let me see.”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Although I do feel light-headed. It’s the result of being whipped around outside of the van. Maybe I knocked my head and can’t remember it. “I want you to know that you were fucking amazing back there.”

“Rrrright,” she snorts. “I ran. I screamed. I wouldn’t give the gun to Petrovich.”

“You were trying to take care of my sister in all that bullshit. Thank you,” I tell her. “Now come over here and kiss me like the hero I am.”

This puts a smile on her face, and she clambers onto my lap. I ignore the fierce burn on my side and the one in my shoulder, because who cares about that? I’ve got a warm armful of Regan Porter in my lap. Fighter. Survivor. Kickass human being. “I tell you I love you?”

“Not yet.”

“Love you, babe,” I croak out. Pulling her down, I part her lips with my own, and her tongue slides along mine, sending happy bolts of electricity down to my groin. She arches against me, and I revel in the feel of her slight breasts rubbing against my chest. The memories of our heated night together run in a loop behind my closed eyes. My hands drop down to cup her ass cheeks and pull her closer to me.

“Ow,” I grunt when her hand presses against my shoulder. She starts to move away, but I draw her back down. I can’t get enough of her. I want to lift her shirt and cover the tip of her breast with my tongue, suck her whole tit inside my mouth until I’m stuffed full of her. “Uhh,” I grunt again, the pain in my shoulder more acute. Shifting her to the side, I manage to dislodge her hand, and the relief is immediate. But I can’t stop kissing her. I don’t care that Petrovich is two feet away from me. My only thought is getting her closer to me. Her soft hands are cupping my face, and I’ve got sweet ass in my palms. I try to open my eyes to stare at her, to watch her lust-filled gaze as she grinds down on me, but there’s a fog that’s obscuring my vision. The pressure of her lips is decreasing, and she’s calling my name. I struggle to respond. My mouth is open, but there’s no sound coming out of it. Regan. I call to her. Regan. Regan. Regan. But there’s no response. No sound. Only a roaring in my ears and then . . . nothing.