Now, two weeks later, she had more regrets than she could stand. And obviously, so did he.
She could believe the flowers were from him. But the bomb . . .
She wouldn't stand here waiting for death. She was going to grab that bitch by the balls.
She raised her arms above her head, felt her body shift into gear as adrenaline raced. And then she read the note one last time before throwing the flowers into the air and letting go.
Chapter Six.
Avery was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. The only thing that kept her from falling apart completely and immediately was the thought of Billie Jean and her text, sent right before the knock on the door from the flower delivery.
Someone's been here asking questions about you.
She raced out the door of the panic room that led into the garage, took the alley away from the street and headed to find Billie Jean.
She only hoped she was wrong about not being the only target, that she wasn't too late. The fact that whoever did this to her tried to make her think Gunner did this to her made her angrier.
The door was locked. She banged on it, tried to see inside but it was dark.
"We're not open."
She whirled around to find Lenny getting out of his car.
"Please, I think Billie Jean's in trouble."
"She's not supposed to come in until seven," Lenny told her. She wanted to shake him, almost grabbed the keys from his hands as he jangled them, looking for the right one.
"Please. Someone tried to kill me. I think Billie's in real trouble."
She pushed past Lenny into the darkened bar, listened, heard a moan. Weapon drawn, she motioned for Lenny to stay outside as she cleared the room.
A light that escaped from the partially open kitchen door allowed her to see that there was no one in the main dining area.
She looked behind the bar. Nothing.
She peered into the kitchen. Saw the blood on the floor by the industrial stove. She kicked the door open, ready to take anyone out.
The only one there was Billie, lying on her side on the floor.
"Billie, I'm here. Lenny, call the ambulance and police now!" she yelled, and Lenny came rushing in.
"Shit," he said, grabbed the cordless phone from its holder and began dialing as she opened the door to the alley. It was well lit and empty.
She closed and locked the door behind her and grabbed clean towels. She put some under Billie's head, used the others to press the wound in her belly.
Billie's eyes fluttered open and she laughed weakly. "Guess this ring's not such good luck after all."
"You're still breathing, so I'd say it is." Avery looked around. Where was the goddamned ambulance? "Billie Jean, help's coming. You stay with me."
"Trying." She gave a short laugh. "Funny, but I thought it'd be you who'd do me in when I first met you."
"You're going to be fine," Avery told her.
"You're not," Billie rasped, clutched Avery's wrist. "Avery, something terrible's going to happen to you."
"It already did. I got away," she quickly reassured the woman.
"Avery, there was a guy in here the other night asking about you. He wasn't Cajun but he lives here. Has for years. I got the feeling he might know Gunner."
Billie Jean's mother had been psychic, and although Billie Jean told Avery she didn't have skills anywhere close, she got strong feelings at times. It was how she'd known Gunner was in love with Avery. It was how she'd known Gunner loved her but wasn't in love with her. "You concentrate on yourself."
"Not . . . okay," Billie persisted.
"You will be," Avery reassured her.
"Man . . . looking for you."
"Is he the one who did this?"
"Not sure. He left . . . then someone came up . . . from behind. It was dark." Billie closed her eyes then, her breathing labored.
The ambulance came ten long minutes later, although the fire and police were already there, helping Billie, talking to Lenny and Avery. By that time, other staff had started to arrive and one of the other waitresses went with Billie in the ambulance.
She'd whispered to Lenny to say she was staff, and no one seemed to question that. Not yet, anyway. She owed Lenny, but he probably thought she just didn't want trouble. He didn't realize Avery was somehow the trouble.
Before he wandered off, because the man was in a daze, she asked, "Did anyone come in here over the past couple of days asking about me? Or asking Billie about me?"
He didn't want to answer, she knew, but he finally wrote something down and handed it to her. "I didn't see him talking to Billie at all. This was about a week ago he came to me. You didn't hear shit from me, hear?"
"I hear." She turned and found herself with a face full of Jem's chest. He grabbed her, pulled her tight to him and she hugged him back. He kept her face tucked against him and she felt the change in the air as he brought her outside the restaurant, away from the chaos.
And then he pulled her away and asked, "What the hell, Avery? I heard the explosions when I was halfway to the shop. I wanted to surprise you and got the surprise of my goddamned life." He looked shaken and she knew from experience how hard that was to do. He took her by the shoulders and stared at her. "Are you okay?"
"It's not my blood. It's Billie Jean's-one of Gunner's ex-wives."
"And the shop?"
"Gunner sent me flowers."
"Flowers don't do that kind of damage."
"There was a bomb." If she said more, she'd break down. She pressed her lips together and let Jem lead her away.
Once in the privacy of the truck, she told him what Billie and Lenny told her, about the man asking questions about her.
"So we're taking a trip into the bayou." Jem sounded resigned. "First, you need a shower and new clothes."
She didn't argue. "If we can get into the panic room-"
"Forget it. Place is still crawling with cops and arson investigators. And the bomb squad."
"I wonder what the new owner will do," she murmured, and Jem pulled the truck over.
"New owner? Start from the beginning. Where's Gunner?"
"He's gone."
"When?"
Twenty-four hours ago. "Three weeks ago," she admitted, because it wasn't a complete lie. "He left without saying anything. Left me the sale papers."
Jem gritted his teeth but put the truck back into drive again, not asking any more questions. An hour later, she was showered and changed into a shirt and cargo pants Jem had in his bag.
"Why do these fit me?" she asked.
He looked slightly embarrassed. "I figured, two women on the team . . . I always carry extra gear so . . ."
She hugged him.
"Hey, no crying or hugging on the team," he protested when she let him go, but he smiled.
"So, did you call Key and tell him any of this?"
"No. I figured you were pretty adamant about us making up our own minds. I've already done it. Just tied up some loose ends and was headed back here to look at places to rent." He paused. "But they're all going to be pissed if we don't tell them."
"I know. But not yet. They wouldn't get here in time to hunt these guys in the bayou, and I'm not waiting. Plus . . . this might color their decision to come back."
Jem, out of all of them, was the most open to keeping secrets and working on an alternative program. He would tell her it was because of his CIA training, but she had a feeling that was Jem's way from the cradle.
"I've got weapons." He paused. "You realize this could be a trap."
She'd considered that. But the man who attacked Billie might not be the one looking for Avery. There were too many people in play. "You don't know Gunner's other ex-wives, do you?"
"No."
"We have to ask Billie when she's out of surgery."
Jem was staring out the window. "Do you remember who the new owner was?"
"I took pictures of the sale papers." She handed him her phone as he opened his laptop. He typed something on the computer and frowned. "This guy's clean. And no doubt pissed."
"Good. Maybe he'll back out of the deal."
She paused a beat, then asked, "Jem-how did you know?"
"I've been there," Jem said. "I could see the signs. I stayed close, waiting for you to need me."
"Thanks."
"That's what we do for one another, right?"
She could only nod.
"We'll get him back, Avery."
"Does Dare know any of this?"
"I didn't want to disturb him or Grace. It's just you and me, kid."
"Then let's figure out a way to get Gunner back."
Soon, the jobs would blend until he could barely see straight. When Landon called him back into the house after he'd walked off, he'd braced himself for the inevitable, but he'd gotten the keys to a safe-deposit box where his cash was kept and his keys.
"The guesthouse is yours, James," Landon said. "Welcome home. You've earned it."
Did Landon have any idea how those words would eat away at him? He was going to say no, but the amount of time he'd be spending in the house would be nil if these last jobs were any indication of that. Easier not to fight. Instead, he took the keys and turned to leave.
"And, James? You've got a full plate for the next several weeks. Make sure you get enough sleep."
Sleep. Yeah, like that would ever happen. He nodded and went on his way, bag slung across his body, and walked across the lawn barefoot, boots in his hand. The grass was sharp here, cut into his feet as he strode, the lights on the guesthouse blazing. Landon had been waiting for him. Gunner had no doubt he'd find a fully stocked kitchen and a hot meal in the oven.
He'd done the same for Gunner when he was sixteen and had no fucking clue what was going on.
He put a hand up to wave to one of the guards who was walking toward him, but the guy moved fast, put a hand out to stop him as he crossed the property. Another came up from the side and he tried to remember if either of these men was one of those who'd had a hand in beating him.
As much as Landon denied it, there was no denying he'd almost died the night he'd left this property all those years before.
"Where're you going?" the man in front of him said.
"My fucking room." He held up the key. "Check it with Landon."
"Oh, we will. Don't much like disloyalty here."
Gunner tried to step around him, but the asshole moved and blocked him. Gunner went left; so did Asshole. The second guy scoffed and Gunner noticed a couple of the other guards had come out of the woodwork.
"Hear you're some kind of hotshot," the asshole said. "Hear you're, like, some kind of expert."
"And I hear that you're going to get your ass kicked through the side of this building if you don't move it out of my way," Gunner told him calmly, as though he were reading a weather report. The anger that built inside him had had zero outlet, not until this moment. The guy in front of him had no idea what he was in for, and for his own sake, Gunner prayed he'd reconsider his decision to poke the lion with the stick and simply move.