Page 51 of Queen's Ransom

“Out of options, Adrian?” She continued to loosen the second zip tie. Almost there.

He punched in another number. “Hey, it’s Adrian. I need a direct line to Hawes Madigan.” Helena detected a woman’s voice on the other end, but she couldn’t make out the words. Adrian’s reddening face told her enough, though. “I’m not telling you what for,” Zima said. Ransom, if Helena had to guess. “Just give it to me.”

After another few seconds, Zima jammed his finger against the screen and ended the call, cursing again as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Figured it out, did she?” Helena said as she eased her wrists free. She kept them behind her back, not yet letting on that she’d escaped.

“Look, Adrian,” Dex said, his tone escalating like the woman’s on the phone. “Just let me go. No one wants me. I’m no use to you or anyone.”

He turned away from the window, resigned. “Except as a witness.” One side of his face was cast in shadow, the other in the sickly glow of the streetlamp. “If I’m going to walk out of here, neither of you can.” So he’d decided fleeing was his best option, and killing them was his only option for making that plan work.

Helena couldn’t let either of those things happen. Not when she was sure her cavalry was minutes away.

He moved closer and drew the gun from his hip holster. The same gun, Helena would bet, that had been used to fire at the shop. He lifted his firing arm toward Dex.

“Really, him first?” Helena scoffed. “Come on, Adrian.” She needed him one step closer to her. “I deserve the first shot for all the trouble.”

Adrian considered a long moment, then swung the gun her direction. She braced for impact, just in case...

He took a step forward, right where she wanted him.

She planted one foot, stretched, and kicked up the other, knocking the gun out of his hand. Thinking she was still bound, he lunged at her, arms outstretched, hands poised to close around her throat. She intercepted him, relishing the surprised flare of his eyes as she grabbed him by the wrists. The terror in those same eyes as she pushed him up the couple inches she needed. Swinging her legs around his waist, she used her legs and her hands around his wrists to yank him forward and ram his face into the edge of the prep table. Bone crunched, blood splattered onto her, and Adrian screamed in pain. She released his hands and rolled out of the way, narrowly missing being crushed as he fell to the floor.

She wiped a sleeve over her face, clearing it of blood, and quickly scanned the surrounding area, looking for the gun. Her eyes locked on it under the wash table, and her ears locked on the twin roars of a Hog and a Ducati fast approaching outside. She scrabbled across the cement floor for the weapon.

“You bitch.” Adrian’s hand closed around her ankle.

She stretched for the gun and cursed her lack of inches, the weapon just out of reach. But it wasn’t the only weapon available. Twisting over and toward Adrian, she kicked out with her free foot, distracting him so he didn’t see the right hook coming. And he sure as fuck didn’t see the pen cap she had wedged between her knuckles coming either, the sharp edge connecting directly with his eye.

He roared in pain, and the grip on her ankle disappeared. Freed, she angled on her side and stretched the last few inches for the gun, grabbing it, righting herself, and training the weapon on Adrian as she rose. She had no intention of using it, but Adrian didn’t know that. She hadn’t fired one in months—they no longer used them—but it was enough to keep Adrian at bay until the overhead lights were flipped on from the breaker box and the building door thrown open. Hawes, garrote in hand, led the group in, with Chris and Avery on his heels, brass knuckles and knives respectively ready, and the rest of her operatives fanning out inside the narrow space.

“Nice of you to join us,” Helena said with a victorious smile.

“Looks like you had it handled, kiska.” Remy sauntered into the building last, and Adrian’s one good eye looked like it was about to blow. He was not happy to see her. Remy crossed to her first, shrugged out of her leather coat, and wrapped it around Helena’s shoulders. She stepped back and held out a hand. “I know you don’t like these anymore,” she said with a nod to the gun. “I can get rid of it for you.”

“Generally, true,” Helena said, “But I think we might need this one.”

She traded Avery the gun for her knife, then approached Dex, who tried and failed to huddle under the table. “Please, don’t!”

“I did not go through all this trouble just to kill you.” She reached behind him and cut through the zip tie that had bound him to the table, leaving the other ring in place and hauling him up by an arm. “I might want to, but I wouldn’t do that to Celia or the kids.”

“Oh, thank god, I thought—”

“Don’t think,” Helena said.

“And listen to me.” Hawes stepped directly in front of Dex. “You’re gonna tell the cops you shot up the shop.”

“You wanted to make sure no one was there so you could break in later,” Helena added.

“But—”

“No buts,” Helena said. “We’re gonna check with Celia, because this is her call, and if she agrees, that’s the story.”

Dex cut his eyes to Adrian, who sat bleeding on the floor and cowering from Remy. “But he—”

“Isn’t gonna walk out of here,” Hawes clarified.

The little color left in Dex’s face bled the rest of the way out.

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