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Gabriel was waiting for Emery next to the black sports car, several guns in hand. His expression was stony, impassive. He'd had a long career with the FBI before they cut him loose. For some people, the agency was in their blood. Gabriel was one of those. No matter how far he went, he'd always carry the mark of a covert agent if you knew how to look for it. But then again, Emery was surrounded by people just like Gabriel, so what did Emery know?

“Ready?” He unlocked the GT-R and sank into the driver's seat.

“Yeah.” Gabriel handed over two 9mm Beretta handguns with silencers already in place. “Know where we're going?”

“Evers's girlfriend's place.”

They paused only to make sure the warehouse was locked up tight for Madison's protection before hitting the road. It was a calculated risk to leave her unprotected, but they had to take it. All hell had broken loose when she relayed their plan to the rest of the team. Even now, CJ and Julian barked demands at Emery, which he ignored. The facts were simple. The rest of the crew were a good thirty to forty-five minutes out if they pulled out all the stops and if they ran full speed behind the cops with lights on. Emery was maybe ten minutes away. And the armored cars would make the guys run slow, so it was a no-brainer tactical decision on his part to move without bothering for permission from the others.

The GT-R ate up the road as they navigated the city streets. He could totally understand the Nissan's appeal, but the roar of the engine was deafening compared to his Tesla. He could barely think over the sound, much less hear Madison or the others over the headset.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Why is the hit team going to Evers? Are they going after him?” Gabriel asked. Since his voice didn't also echo through the headset Emery double-tapped his to cut the feed.

“You tell me.” They were both smart, and this wasn't their first operation.

“Spitballing here, a trained hit team in town at loose ends, they can't go back to the mob because they'll be held accountable for Matvei's death. This Geezer guy wants to keep hold of the power.”

“And?”

“The FBI thinks someone else is in power. One theory is that Geezer is the boss and the hit team is his way of taking out a liability. But that doesn't add up. Yeah, Evers is a problem to whoever could be pulling the strings. Maybe Evers's operation wants to off him to prevent making themselves weak?” Gabriel's tone went from certain to unsure.

“Someone else
is
pulling Evers's strings.” They didn't have proof, but all things pointed that way.

“They could have a jail hit done on him for less than the Russians cost, so now it's personal.”

“Maybe. Don't know.”

“What if Geezer is organizing a coup? It makes a lot more sense that way. We know he's their import and export guy, how Evers got the drugs in and out of the country. What if Geezer's not happy playing the delivery boy role anymore and wants more power? What if he's offered the hit team sanctuary in exchange for helping put him on top?”

Everything sounded crazy at this point. They were burning rubber to save a piece of shit criminal from an execution squad—why? Because they wanted to see justice served? Because they might get answers someday? There were too many questions. If the FBI wouldn't answer them, well, maybe they could learn something if they had Evers in their custody.

“Emery. Emery!” Madison's panicked voice rose above the snatches of conversation the now-mobile crew was having in the background.

Emery activated his headset with a quick double tap.

“What?” He prayed Madison took a breath and calmed the fuck down.

“They've stopped. It looks like a bunch of houses. Nice ones. With gates and landscaping.” Her voice lowered, leveling out into the focused Madison he'd come to know. The one who knew roller derby strategy and numbers. Good.

“The girlfriend's house?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah. What else do you see?” Emery asked Madison while he focused on the road, sliding between two cars, using the shoulder illegally. Tori would be proud.

The way the dash cam was positioned, they'd only get to see the interior of the car. He should have brought up the feed showing the exterior, but he'd been of a single mind when leaving the Shop.

“They're in the car.” Madison paused. The line was quiet. The others must have muted so they could all hear what she was saying. “I think . . . I think they're watching the rearview mirror.”

“Which
they
?” he asked.

“The two younger guys. The car with the man in the suit is still moving. I don't think they're there yet.”

“Can you see anything out the back of the car?”

“A really big house. There are stone columns, but the gate is open. There's a white car, looks like a Bentley, maybe?”

“Is anyone there?”

“I don't see anyone besides the hit team. Oh, the other car just stopped. These guys are looking out the right side.”

Gabriel stared at him. “The two hit men on one side of the gate, the others across from it, that's a good setup to hit the drop car. They could tap Evers and get out of there before anyone calls the cops. Hell, before we get there if Evers's police escort is on time. Floor it.”

Emery downshifted and he took a turn into the ritzy development. Granted, most of Miami was blanketed in homes that cost a fortune, but some were more outrageous than others. This particular one was one at the top.

“Gates. Gates!” Gabriel yelled. He braced a hand on the top of the car and his feet on the floorboard.

Emery accelerated, the car roared, and they hit the fancy wrought-iron gate at full speed. It was a calculated risk. If it was a solid system, they were toast. However, the electric gate whined and popped as it bounced open, not even strong enough to trigger the airbag deployment. The metal on metal squealed and he no doubt lost a lot of paint. Yeah, Julian was going to hate him.

“They're getting out of the car. Emery! They're out. I can see Evers. He's there. Oh my God, Emery!” Madison's panicked voice rose to a shrill note. “Holy shit!”

He could hear the
pop pop pop
of gunfire now. Gabriel rolled his window down, guns in each hand.

“There are others,” she continued, speaking in a rush. “Men. Three, no, four of them. They're all shooting.”

Emery rounded a turn. Luxurious mansions lined the intercoastal waterway. Three months ago they'd picked up Evers in a similar situation at a more modest house. Coincidence? Not so much. The waterways and abundance of boats made trafficking hard to combat and easy to hide. Was it time they looked into the girlfriend? After this, she was sure as hell going to get more scrutiny.

“I see them,” he said over Madison's narration.

The scene was more chaotic than Madison had related to him.

The mansion was on a slightly larger plot than its neighbors, with ten-foot brick walls surrounding the property. The house itself was a three-story, white-and-peach construction reaching for grandeur. The men in black with guns ruined the image.

A beat-up blue sedan sat halfway through the front gate, abandoned. The two stolen cop cars were exactly where he'd envisioned them outside the fenced and gated property. One was a dozen or so yards on the other side of the gate and empty, while the other was across from it. The old man and two hit men were poised around the entry to the property, exchanging gunfire with whoever was inside guarding Evers.

“We want Evers,” Emery said.

“Good luck getting him,” Gabriel replied. He stared down the barrel of his gun.

Emery shifted, pulled the handbrake, and the car pivoted a neat ninety degrees, blocking the street while also providing cover. This wasn't the kind of neighborhood where people just parked along the curb, either.

One of the Russians crouched and fired at their car. Emery took aim and returned fire, but the three dove inside the perimeter. Chunks of masonry exploded where his bullet hit, sending shards of stone flying.

Emery left the vehicle and jogged to the wall, Gabriel close on his heels. It had to grate Gabriel to not be in the lead, but his injuries were a detriment to their goal. Emery slowed as they neared the entrance. For the span of several seconds, no one fired, but he did hear a man yelling inside the house.

“One down,” Emery said. He visually swept the scene. The poor driver of the sedan never had a chance. The man slumped over the wheel, missing a very important part of his skull. The hit team probably got him first, thinking to disarm the car and snatch Evers for an execution-style job.

Madison muttered something too low to hear.

“Where is everyone?” Gabriel demanded.

“They're almost there. Just, maybe, ten more minutes?” Madison replied, somewhat calmer, but still on edge.

“That's not fast enough,” Gabriel said, frustration lacing his tone.

“We're more like fifteen out,” Julian said over the line, a muted roar in the background.

Tori and Roni would be faster. Not that he wanted them anywhere near this place. They weren't traveling in a vehicle weighed down by armored panels, but still were too far away. He and Gabriel were doing this rescue on their own.

Emery reached the edge of the gate, or where the gate would be if it were closed. It stood open for anyone to enter. Either Evers had a security team here to meet him, or his people were prepared for this kind of attack. Either way, Emery saw their chance to grab him slipping away.

“I don't see anyone,” Emery said, more for Gabriel than the others.

He pivoted, stepping into the entrance, guns raised.

“FBI, ma'am, go back into your home,” Gabriel yelled at someone across the street.

Emery didn't pay the woman any mind. His focus was ahead of them. Where was the third Russian? They'd only seen the two with the man in the suit. Was the third dead? Or was he ahead of them?

The thick foliage made it difficult to tell who might be hiding on the edge of the property. If the hit team's focus was Evers, and since they were outmanned, he doubted they'd leave even one valuable member to guard their back. If the Russians had still had Matvei, Emery would be willing to bet they could take the whole situation easily in hand, but Matvei had likely been the brains behind the bunch. Without him, they were just men with a few kills under their belt.

Voices farther back on the property rose, yelling at one another. The fronds of a large-leafed plant were broken by the passing of others along a narrow path leading around the house. Emery crossed the circle drive, Gabriel walking almost backward to cover their six.

“I can't see you anymore,” Madison said.

Emery ignored her statement, straining to make out what was being said.

“Shh,” Gabriel whispered.

They progressed along the side of the house. A patio and pool stretched along the side, bordered by hedges that would provide a green shield to keep anyone on the outside from looking in. It was a home designed to hide the activities of the inhabitants. What did Evers's on-again, off-again girlfriend have to hide?

A gunshot rang out, followed by two more, breaking the eerie silence. Emery dove forward, dodging behind the hedges. There were neat breaks every six feet. He took a knee, peering through one as a boat motor revved to life. A speedboat shoved off from the docks at the rear of the house. It was weighted down with six men, one of whom stuck out in dull, blue scrubs.

Evers.

The others had to be his protective detail. They were too far away for Emery to ID them on sight alone. This must have been the plan all along, to have Evers delivered here, then use the water to get somewhere else. In Miami, a guy could get almost anywhere out on the water.

The remaining three hit men, plus the man in the suit, stood behind whatever they could for cover near the water's edge, firing at the boat. At least one of the people guarding Evers was injured, judging by the red streaks over the white fiberglass sides of the boat.

Damn it.

Evers was the key to whatever the hell was going on.

“Get down.” Gabriel shoved Emery to the side and they rolled on the hard flagstones. A bullet ripped through the bushes where they'd been moments ago.

“There!” one of the hit team yelled.

“Through the house,” another called.

Bullets peppered the bushes, pool, and low retaining wall in front of them. Emery and Gabriel crawled for their lives to the relative safety of a poolside bar, built out of heavy stone with a wooden counter. They tumbled over each other getting behind the makeshift cover.

“Fuck.” Gabriel sprawled on the floor of the bar, gripping his ribs.

At a glance, there didn't appear to be any blood on him save a few scratches.

“Stay there.” Emery crouched, ducking his head under the teak bar, listening—but there were no sounds.

He lifted his head, images of the poor sedan driver sticking in his mind. Near the house, someone moved. He ducked reflexively and the stone bar exploded, sending chunks of rock flying in every direction.

“Shit.” Gabriel kneeled, watching the front of the house. A gash on his head dripped blood down the side of his face.

“Think they're going through the house?” Emery asked.

“Fuck if I know.”

Glass broke somewhere in the vicinity of the house. Both Emery and Gabriel pressed themselves to the stone as three shots hit the side of the bar.

“That answers that question.” Gabriel swiped the blood off his brow.

“Gabriel? Emery? Are you okay?” Madison's voice was calmer, but there was still strain there. With Kathy gone, the roller derby queen was going to have some big shoes to fill.

“Still breathing,” Gabriel replied.

“Keep an eye on the dash cams. Where is everyone?” Emery peered around the corner but the hit team was gone.

“They're in the car. They're in the car!” Madison chanted.

“Which car?” Emery hunched, keeping low, and stepped out from the bar. He kept his gaze on the front of the house, finger on the trigger and gun pointed at the ground.

“The . . . uh . . . all three of them are in the—oh my God!”

A loud crash, scrape of metal, and tinkle of shattering glass made Emery's stomach drop.

“Oh my God,” Madison said over and over again.

Maybe she wasn't the best for the gig, but she was all they had.

“What happened?” Gabriel snapped.

“They—oh my God—” Another crash and the sound of tires peeling drowned her out. “They hit Julian's car.”

That's what Emery was afraid of.

He jogged around the house in time to see the back of the cruiser turn the corner at the end of the street.

“Damn it,” Emery growled.

Gabriel headed for the other cruiser and jumped in the driver's seat.

Julian was going to kill them. He loved that damn car.

The second cruiser screeched to a stop next to him. Emery grabbed the door and slid in, Gabriel accelerating the moment most of Emery's body was inside. The door banged his leg, but they were gone. The beaten-up shell of Julian's sleek, black GT-R sat to the side of the road.