"Just because I said it."
"You know that's not true-not with this group."
The pain pills were working, the empty stomach aiding that along. But she continued eating the crackers, mainly because her stomach was growling. "Is everyone okay?"
"Worried about you, but they're all fine. No signs of anyone or anything suspicious. We're in a good place. Everyone wants you to take your time and heal."
She wanted that too, thought she'd want revenge so badly that it would heat through her like a white-hot fury, forcing her out of bed and into planning mode. By now she should've been insisting that they find Landon, stop him from ever hurting anyone again, the way she had that first night.
Instead, she was thinking about giving up S8. The fact that she could think about letting Landon take something else from her pissed her off.
"I have to tell you something, Gunner," she started, and she looked wary.
"I'm listening."
"When Landon was attacking me . . . he showed me a folder. He whispered, so you wouldn't hear. The folder showed a list of times and coordinates that a cargo ship with underage women was leaving Mexico for . . . shit, I don't know where. Or when. He said it was soon and I couldn't concentrate, couldn't see . . ."
He pulled her close, hugged her to his chest as quiet sobs racked her. Gunner hated that Landon tried the same psychological bullshit that he'd used so effectively on him.
He hated that it had worked.
"I should've told you earlier," she murmured when her breathing had calmed down, but she still wasn't looking at him.
"There's nothing we could've done without more information. And you don't even know what he was showing you."
"It was a cargo dispatch. I know what they look like."
He tugged gently, forced her to look at him. "You've let Landon wrap you up in this. You're not responsible for what the traffickers are doing."
She shrugged, moved back to the pillow. He ran a hand through his hair. "I know you're worried about me. But we have to stop keeping secrets. I started that, I realize, but I thought we agreed, secrets will kill us."
She curled up around the pillow, looking so pretty and so vulnerable. He knew that was all a smokescreen, that underneath it all, Avery had more strength than any of them. She had more of Darius in her than anyone realized, and that in and of itself could be very good . . . and also, very destructive.
Right now he felt like that sense of justice was killing her. "I understand what you're doing, Avery. I did it myself."
"When you were with Josie," she murmured. "That's why you wanted to go back to Landon."
Why he'd been pissed that Josie saved him.
He blinked again and realized that he was in goddamned pain, but there was no smoke or chanting. He'd made it through, with barely any memories of what had happened to him. But he had no doubts as to why he'd been beaten and left for dead in the first place.
His only question was why they didn't finish the job. It wasn't like Landon to leave things undone. Landon hated sloppy.
"Maybe you should've just let me die," he told her.
"If you mean that, I'll throw your ass out the door right now." Her eyes snapped fire and no, he didn't need this shit from some bossy thing.
"I'll show myself out." Would've too, if he could get up off the damned bed. His ribs felt like they were in goddamned pieces, and every time he tried to move, fire wrenched through his body.
Her hands were on his shoulders, pressing him down firmly. "Why are you being such an idiot? Most people are grateful to be saved. Or don't you know that?"
"You have no idea about my life or what I should be grateful for," he told her. "Where'd you find me?"
"You were near the back door, in the grasses. Petey found you," she told him. Petey, a bloodhound who'd remained firmly curled at his feet. "You were lucky."
"Yeah, lucky," he echoed. Tried to get up from under the heavy quilt. Somehow it was easy enough for the petite woman to push him back down.
"Stay."
"I'm not the fucking dog."
"You're acting like an asshole."
He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered, was Landon telling him that he was done.
The last thing he'd said to Landon was, "If you ask me to come back, I would."
"Landon brainwashed you," Avery said now.
"You think that all of this is Landon's fault," he started. "You want to believe that I'm a victim, dragged in against my will. But that's only a partial truth. That only applies to this last time, when I went back to Landon to save you and the others."
"So tell me."
"And risk having you never look at me the same way again."
"That could never happen, Gunner. I know who you are. In here." She pressed a hand to his heart. "And here." A hand to the side of his head. "Whatever you did that you think was bad, you've more than made up for it."
"Never." His voice sounded hollow. "I liked working for Landon. Especially at first. He was better than Powell. And I was able to justify what I was doing because we were giving criminals a new life, letting them escape justice. I didn't see their victims. And I got to blow the shit out of human traffickers. I got to save women and children. I was the good guy, and I told myself that the end justified the means."
"I think it probably does," she told him. "That's why I feel like such shit for not being able to see a damned line of numbers. I went through all that torture for nothing. If I'd been able to get those numbers . . . it would've been worth it."
He knew exactly what she was saying. Didn't agree, but understood. He didn't want to tell her, didn't even want to think about it. But he had to. Talking about it, remembering it was the only way to make sure he wasn't doomed to repeat the same mistakes.
He'd been so damned young that first time he'd taken down a trafficker. For two years, he'd roamed the goddamned globe, pulling off smaller jobs, helping Landon's merc for hire, Declan Moore. Dec was a good mentor, was in it for the money and the explosions.
"You're taking down bad men," he'd told Gunner.
"And leading others across the border."
Declan shrugged. "Karma. Give a little, take a little."
Declan was killed the week before the transfer. Gunner swore to Landon that he was ready, that he wouldn't fuck anything up.
But he'd fucked up big-time. Gotten the client arrested and nearly gotten himself killed in the process. By the time he'd made it back to Landon's three weeks later, after hiding out in random safe houses, his name was mud and Landon was furious.
"But he called you back," she said. "Is that when you tattooed him?"
He went cold. "I never tattooed him."
"Good."
"Why'd you think that?"
"I needed something to focus on. He had the tribal sun on his shoulder . . ."
Gunner stood, took two steps back as if someone had physically pushed him. "Was it a new tattoo?"
"No. It was actually faded. Looked like it needed a touch-up. Gunner, you're so pale-what's wrong?"
"Landon doesn't have any tattoos."
As soon as Avery told him about the sun tattoo, Gunner was up, grabbing for his laptop, pulling up a picture of Landon. "Was this him?"
"Yes, it was him. The guy from that picture's the guy who hurt me. I'm sure of it," Avery insisted.
"I believe you." He got up and called into the living room for Jem, keeping his voice low. He wasn't ready to let the others in on anything. Not until the three of them dealt with this new information.
"Dude, what's up?" Jem asked, his voice rough from sleep.
"Come in here."
Jem did and Gunner motioned for him to close the door. Since he held the small surveillance camera in his hand, he did so. Placed it where they could all see it but remained standing.
"Landon's brother-any way he could be a twin? Identical twin?" Gunner asked, and Jem froze.
"Fuck me," he said finally, and Avery covered her mouth with her hand. "You think he's pretending to be Landon?"
"I think he's been around, watching me for a lot longer than I realized," Gunner said grimly. "Drew Landon's a bastard, but he's not a liar."
"The question is, if Donal's pretending to be Drew . . . where is Drew?" Jem asked.
"Last I saw him was right before you grabbed me in Bali," Gunner told him. "I saw him hours before. No tattoo. He was heading back to his island."
"So wait, did Donal order the beating?" Avery asked. "Because . . . would Drew's guards take orders from Donal?"
"No, they wouldn't have," Gunner said, looked slightly sheepish. "I might've mouthed off."
"To four men with weapons? And they say I'm the crazy one," Jem muttered.
"None of them really talked to me," Gunner said. "I was the favorite. They all resented the shit out of me, mainly because I could beat the shit out of them."
"And Donal got kicked off the island when you arrived," Jem reminded him. "That's a damned good reason to resent you. You cost him the family fortune."
"How do you know he didn't have money of his own? A business of his own?" Gunner asked. And then he froze in place.
"Gun? Shit, Gunner, what the hell?" Jem shook him and Avery was grabbing his hand as he nearly fell over as the memories hit him.
"The sun," he whispered. "It was him. It was Donal the whole fucking time."
Jem and Avery just sat next to him patiently as the slices of memory crowded his brain like a fast-moving slide show, all the pieces falling into place like so many clicks.
"He . . . When I found her . . . Shit . . ." He rubbed his forearm. "It was carved into her arm. The tribal sun. I didn't even . . . Fuck. I guess I assumed maybe she'd been tattooing herself or . . ."
"Or there was so much going on that night, you didn't even give it a second thought," Avery told him firmly. "Donal had to have gone back working for Drew. Got pissed that Drew gave you a second chance and made sure Josie paid for it."
"He also fucked the job up so badly," Gunner said slowly.
"Ensuring Landon's being pissed at you. He figured you'd stay away from Drew because of Josie and because of the fuckup," Jem finished.
"Strange fucking bedfellows," Jem muttered.
"So we find Drew or Donal or both. And they both go down," Avery said decisively.
Gunner nodded. "It's time to bring this to the group."
Chapter Twenty-three.
They'd been circling one another for the week, not wanting to rile anything up. Gunner refused to leave Avery's side and, for her sake, peace was kept. That was mainly thanks to Grace, who kept Dare as calm as possible.
"We keep this about Avery for now," Jem told all of them quietly that first night. Gunner and Dare shook on that.
But now things were coming to a critical point. With Avery resting in the other room with Drea, and the door partially open, the other members of S8 sat at the table and listened to the story Gunner and Jem laid out.
Gunner felt like he was in front of the firing squad-would've been, if Jem hadn't sat next to him, as if ready to defend him.
Crazy, but loyal to a fault. Even when Gunner couldn't have blamed him if he wasn't.
So he laid out what happened to Dare, Grace and Key, pausing in places to keep himself together, especially when he spoke about Avery's attack. "I shouldn't have left her alone like that. But I'd always been safe there. No one followed us. I don't know how in the hell Landon knew about that place."
Dare was struggling with what had happened to Avery. This was his flesh and blood, his responsibility. She'd been brought into this through no fault of her own.
He stared into the man's eyes now. "Dare, I'm sorry."
"And you didn't call us immediately after Avery and Jem brought you back why?" Dare demanded. Grace put a hand on his arm, her face drawn tight. Then she got up and left the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.
Dare watched her leave, then stood and faced away from the group. Several long moments later, he sat back down, his eyes red rimmed. "She'll be okay," he said firmly.