Page 71 of Owning Nicci

I force all thoughts of Nicci from my head as we move forward again. My confusion over how I feel, over what we are—and what comes after this—hasn’t lessened. And it’s a distraction I can’t afford right now.

The trek to the back of the mansion feels as if it takes fucking forever. We have to pause twice more, hiding in the shadows as security passes by, before Jonas takes us along a zig-zagging path to a back door that keeps us out of sight of the cameras. Once there, he motions for Jake to move up, and the tech guy goes to disable the alarm.

“Staff entrance,” Jonas mouths.

I nod, understanding. This time of night, the staff will be few and far between. We’ll be able to move quickly through the house and, hopefully, grab Mr. Armand and his son without too much difficulty. So long as we can do it quickly and quietly, there shouldn’t be too much trouble.

Jonas tugs his balaclava up over his mouth, and I do the same. The staff door clicks open, and the six of us move silently into the mansion.

Nicci told me that no one other than she, her father, and her brother lived here. The staff came and went on shifts, as did security. The silence of the house at this hour seems to corroborate that. We creep through the kitchen, and Jonas motions for four of the men to head towards the upper level of the house, where they’ll likely find Nicci’s brother. Jonas and I will head to the study and see if Mr. Armand is still there. If not, we’ll start hunting for him and try to avoid any guards.

The other four men slink off, and Jonas and I head toward the study, me following Jonas’ carefully mapped path. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears as we approach the hallway where Mr. Armand’s study is, and I see a light under the door.

“Keep behind me,” I hiss through my teeth to Jonas as I move forward. I sweep the hall for guards, seeing no one, and take thelast few strides to the door, reaching out with one gloved hand to wrench it open.

Mr. Armand is lounging in a leather wing chair by a bookcase, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a cigar in the other. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, and if his gaze hadn’t snapped up at the first sound of my footsteps on the wooden floor, I might have thought he’d fallen asleep in his chair.

Before he can call out for help, I have my gun out and leveled at him, pointed directly at his head. “Don’t make a sound, Mr. Armand,” I growl, doing my best to keep my voice disguised, the hint of my Italian accent dropped. “One peep, and I’ll put a bullet through your head before anyone can get to you.”

I won’t, of course. Nicci would skin me alive if I killed her father for her rather than bringing him back to her, and frankly, I wouldn’t blame her. But he doesn’t need to know that. And, from the way his eyes widen as he looks at the barrel of the gun pointed at him, he believes me.

“My men are looking for your son right now. Once they’ve got him, we’ll all take a nice little walk.” I take a few more steps forward, ensuring that he’s well within range. If I did plan to shoot him, I wouldn’t miss, and he knows it. I can see the blood draining from his face, his skin going chalk-white as he sits there stiffly, his fingers clamped around the whiskey glass.

“Set it down,” I tell him firmly, nodding to the glass. “Nice and slow. Any of your men come in here, you tell them to back right off. Understood?”

Mr. Armand nods, and I catch his gaze flicking towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jonas moving into the room, leaving the door open just a crack for the rest of the men when they make their way down here.

“Get him secured,” I growl at Jonas as Mr. Armand sets the whiskey glass down. “Tight, but not too tight.”

Jonas nods, moving toward the chair with his own gun drawn. He shifts behind Mr. Armand, and I jerk the gun towards him.

“Stand up. Hands behind your back.”

It’s incredible, I can’t help but reflect how easily some men cave when a weapon is pointed at their face. Mr. Armand rises clumsily out of the chair, his movements clearly slowed from how much he’s had to drink, and he obeys my command. His face is bloodless, his eyes wide, and I can see his mouth trembling as he presses it into a thin line.

Nicci’s father might make deals with gangsters, I think with some amusement, but he’s far from one himself. He’s a coward, and I feel a rush of anger as I look at him, remembering everything that Nicci told me he’s done to her. Everything that he’s allowed tobedone to her. I have to bite back everything I want to snarl at him, all the threats I want to make. There will be time for that, but it’s not right now.

I hear the sound of footsteps outside and then a sudden shout. The door is shoved open, and Jonas twists toward it just as he finishes securing Mr. Armand’s hands behind his back. Two of our men shove a man in his mid-twenties into the room—clearly Nicci’s brother, from the look of him—wearing nothing but boxers. At the same moment, I hear gunshots going off in the hall. Jonas pushes Mr. Armand behind him, striding forward.

“Jake, get the window!” he snaps, just as Nicci’s brother lunges for him.

Jonas decks him with a hard right punch, sending him down to the floor. In an instant, he’s on the other man, rolling him to his stomach with a knee in his back as Jonas yanks his hands behind his back and zip-ties them. I hear three more gunshots as I hold my own weapon on Mr. Armand, and then our other two men come running into the room, slamming the door behindthem as Jake disables the alarm on the window. One of them has blood running down his temple.

“We’ve taken out three of them,” the man gasps. “We need to fucking go. More are coming.”

“Out the window!” Jake yells, shoving the huge bay window that opens out to the grounds open. It’s a very small drop down to the lawn, and I stride forward, shoving the gun into Mr. Armand’s face.

“You heard him,” I growl. “Out the window.”

For a moment, I think he might not comply. “Please,” he mumbles, his voice slurred from drinking. “I’ll pay—you don’t need to do this—whoever you are, we can make arrangements?—”

“This is the arrangement. Get the fuck out of the window.” I push the gun into his temple, and he staggers backwards, obeying my command as Jake vaults himself out of the window and onto the lawn.

Mr. Armand follows, tripping over himself and falling onto the damp grass below. Jake yanks him up, with my help as I follow, and I can hear Nicci’s brother struggling as the rest of the men get him outside. I hear the door slamming open just as the last of our group jumps out. Two of our men hang back, opening fire as Jake, Jonas, me, the two men, and our captives make a break for the tree-lined area where the cars are waiting.

Nicci’s brother is the most difficult. He tries to break away from the group, and Jonas and one of the other men wrestle him down to the grass, knocking him out cold. I hear a bullet whiz past us and swing around, firing in the direction it came from and sending one of the grounds’ security down into the grass, a spray of blood darkening the hedge next to him. I hear two of the men picking up Nicci’s brother, hauling him toward the SUV as Jonas and I herd Mr. Armand there. The other men lay down fire to keep us covered as we make our getaway.

“The two on the bikes will bring up the rear, keep the guards busy,” Jonas says as we all pile into the SUV, motioning for the driver to go. “Boss, directions?”

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