Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Read online

  The credits rolled on My Neighbour Totoro when Luc rolled over, propping a hand on the side of his head.

  “Can I come here? After the… party on Saturday?”

  “Part− oh.” Luc meant after they took down Simon Esso. I bit my lip.

  After an operation you were jazzed, needed to talk it out. If you didn’t have a long-term partner you reached out to a friend. Esso’s operation was going down on Saturday. It would be over late Saturday night.

  And Luc wanted to come and wind down with me.

  Say no.

  “What about Paxton?”

  “Pax is busy with Jetta.”

  “Right.” The blush warmed my cheeks.

  “Saturday?”

  Say no. It’ll only make it harder to leave.

  “Saturday night.” I agreed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emmie

  I looked at the clock for what felt like the millionth time. The evil red numbers told me the truth.

  Luc wasn’t coming.

  I wheeled my chair around, rolling into the kitchen.

  Today had been a hard session. I’d tried a walking stick for the first time and fallen twice –thankfully landing on my good side. Amy had told me I’d pushed myself too hard and ordered me to rest for the next two days. No walker or stick.

  I picked up the apartment’s phone and hit Luc’s digits, listening to the dial tone.

  “This is Luc, leave a message.” The beep sounded, waiting for me to speak.

  “Luc, it’s Emmie. I guess things didn’t go to plan. I’m off to bed. Call me tomorrow. Hope nothing went wrong.” I hit the end button, hesitating at putting the phone down.

  Should I call Addie or Jarrett or one of the others and check if they’re okay?

  Tonight was Jetta’s big concert. Tonight, we were meant to be taking down Simon Esso and his entire operation. Tonight, I would have an answer. Tonight, I would know if the men who shot me were the same men that were after Jetta.

  And if they weren’t…

  I shut that thinking down.

  You can’t do anything right now. Not while you could barely hold your own body weight.

  But what if…

  “They’ll call. You can’t be distracting them just because you’re feeling paranoid.”

  I placed the phone back on the counter and wheeled myself to the door. For the fifth time that night, I checked the locks, moving around the apartment to check the windows as well. Nightmares, paranoia, and fear.

  What if…

  In the bedroom, I hauled myself out of the wheelchair and onto the bed. I lay staring at the ceiling wishing I knew what had happened, wishing someone would call.

  Finally, hours later, I fell asleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luc

  “We’ll find her,” I assured Pax as he sped down the dark road.

  The concert was over. Jetta had rocked out, and we’d taken down Simon Esso exactly as planned. But in the chaos Jetta had disappeared.

  Pax hunched over the steering wheel, his eyes on the dark road as we drove towards Fairburn. I texted Sawyer, trying to get an update on Jetta’s mobile.

  “I should have seen it,” Pax muttered. “I knew the uncle was shifty as fuck.”

  Jetta’s uncle, Paul White had kidnapped her. This whole time we’d been chasing Simon Esso when it was Paul White who had planned this shit.

  A call lit the screen of Pax’s phone.

  “Why is Dylan calling you?” I asked, hitting accept and putting Dylan on loud speaker.

  “His facility is where we put Courtney.”

  Dylan was an ex-colleague. He’d retired from the forces a year after us and set up a rehab clinic with his wife.

  “Pax?” Dylan asked.

  “Yo.”

  “Courtney’s gone.”

  Pax pulled the SUV off to the side of the road. “She’s what?”

  “She’s gone. Disappeared. We’ve looked everywhere. She went out for her meditation walk and never came back. Jeanette is beside herself.”

  “Motherfucker!”

  I looked down at my phone, thumbs typing out the new information for Sawyer.

  “’I’m sorry, Pax. I’ve let you—”

  “No.” He cut off Dylan’s apology, swearing again. “No, Dylan. She’s been kidnapped. Jetta’s missing too. Shit is going off down here. It’s not your fault. We dropped the ball. I underestimated our opponent.”

  Silence met this declaration. Finally, Dylan coughed, clearing his throat. “What can I do?”

  “Look after Jeanette. We’ll call you as soon as we know.”

  “Good luck.”

  Pax hit the end button, muttering, “Fuck.”

  “Fuck about covers it,” I agreed.

  “This is escalating.”

  “We’re on it,” Brean assured from the backseat.

  “It was meant to be me.”

  “What?” I twisted to look at my best friend.

  “This whole thing. It’s meant to be me,” he muttered, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

  “What are you on about?” Brean leaned between the seats, frowning.

  Pax turned the car, merging back into traffic. “Nothing, forget it.”

  Forget it?

  “Seriously, Pax?” I shook my head. “After this is said and done, we’re sitting down for a beer and you’re talking that dark shit out.”

  We arrived at the office to a packed room. AFP and our guys were frantic as news trickled in. Our lead said it was likely Jetta and Courtney would be held at White’s Thredbo property. Sawyer had sent through a schematic of the building. A large property with three wine cellars scattered across the grounds, the place was heavily fortified.

  “Who the fuck needs three wine cellars?” I asked, frowning at the damn map.

  Rich fuckers.

  Swat arrived, readying for the extraction. They planned to squeeze us out, push us to the back.

  Fuck that.

  I pulled Pax aside.

  “Plan?”

  “I’m going in. Fuck what they say.”

  I nodded. “I got you. Whatever you need.”

  Pax clasped my forearm. “You’ll take care of her, yeah?” His eyes were dead.

  “Yeah. But, dude, you’ll be here to take care of her yourself.”

  He looked away. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luc

  Wind whipped through the helicopter. Paul White, kingpin of a fucking drug cartel. He’d had Jetta and Courtney under his thumb for years. Simon Esso had been nothing but a figure head, a pawn used by Paul for his ultimate purpose. What that was? We had no idea.

  The helicopter banked, starting to descend.

  I adjusted my grip on my gun, jerking my head up at Pax. He nodded.

  Let’s do this.

  We bounded out, racing down the hill towards the cellars.

  I hesitated, slowing as a figure appeared in the doorway of one. Paul White held a gun to Jetta’s head.

  “Fall back!”

  Paxton powered forward, ignoring the directions.

  Jesus fuck.

  I shook off my unease, following Pax, trusting his instincts.

  Paul had a gun pressed to Jetta’s forehead. His eyes were wide, crazed. I breathed, stopping, lining up my shot.

  Breathe. Look for the gap.

  Years of training took over, I tuned out Paul’s rants, my eyes sharp as I watched the scene play out. Body language told me more than a person’s words.

  He ranted, Paxton watching. Jetta’s eyes were firmly trained on Pax, hope and fear warring.

  Paul pressed the gun harder to Jetta’s temple, his body language changing. I raised my pistol, squeezing.

  Paul’s gun stalled in the chamber, jumping. My bullet grazed his cheek as he flinched.

  Fuck.

  Pax’s bullet hit Paul’s shoulder, another his arm, while my second embedded in his chest. He stumbled backwards, Jetta still clutched t
o him.

  I moved, watching as they struggled, Jetta desperately squirming to get away. Paul tripped, pulling them both down into the cellar.

  “Fuck!”

  I chased Pax down the stairs, finding him at the bottom, blood decorating his body, Jetta moved into the recovery position.

  “It was meant to be me. It was meant to be me,” Pax chanted as Jetta spluttered. I moved immediately to Paul, taking their back against the potential danger.

  I dragged Paul away, pressing a hand to stem the bleeding at his chest. The man gasped, his eyes wide with fear.

  A woman crouched behind me while the tactical team swarmed the cellar, securing the room.

  “You the sister?” I barked.

  She nodded, eyes narrowed on Paul. “Courtney.”

  A man dropped beside me, pulling out a first aid kit.

  I raised up, letting the medic work. Moved to the younger Oliver.

  “You good?”

  She nodded, eyes still on her uncle.

  “Courtney?”

  She finally turned, blinking up at me. “Sorry?”

  I frowned. “You hit your head?”

  “I…” She swallowed. “I don’t think so?”

  I shrugged off my jacket, wrapping her in its warmth.

  “Let’s get you above ground and in a chopper. They’ll be dropping Jetta at a hospital. Let’s make sure you’re there too.”

  She allowed me to escort her up the stairs, her teeth chattering. The shock kicking in.

  Pax had tucked Jetta into a seat, the pilot turning to watch. I strapped Courtney in, jumping into the seat next to her. Pax looked at me, his arms around his girl.

  “You good?” I asked.

  He nodded, giving Jetta a tight squeeze. “Solid, mate.”

  I nodded at the pilot. “Ready when you are, chief.”

  The helicopter lifted, starting the journey back to Canberra.

  Jetta leaned against Pax, her eyes drifting closed. I watched as Pax leaned down, pressing kisses to her hair. The relief on his face was painful. It was as if a burden had been lifted.

  At the hospital, they rushed Jetta and Courtney off for testing. Pax stood outside the theatre while they were in getting X-rayed. Jetta had injured her wrist in the fall down the cellar stairs.

  I leaned against the wall next to him, hands in pockets as I watched his face.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I should have told you.”

  “Of course.”

  He shoved my arm. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You should have told me anyway.” I bumped his shoulder. “We’re in this.”

  Pax blew out a breath. “I need therapy.”

  I nodded, biting my tongue. He glanced at me, then huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. You told me so.”

  I shrugged. “We can’t all be perfect.”

  He snorted before sobering. “It’s fucked up, but after the incident… I thought I was on a countdown.”

  I raised an eyebrow. The incident. Two words to describe the event that changed our lives. Two of our best friends ripped from this world. The trajectory of our life changed as Pax suffered a life changing injury, and we were both left to deal with memories that in war were all too familiar.

  “PTSD?”

  “I guess.” He rubbed his chest. “You ever think about it?”

  “All the time.” I swallowed. “But I also think about Brick and Limo. I try to be and live the life they didn’t get. Do them proud and all that shit. You know?”

  Pax sighed, slumping into the wall. “I was prepared to die. I’m not sure I know how to live.”

  “We all gotta go sometime, bro.” I jerked my head towards the theatre. “You ask Jetta for help?”

  “No. But I’m gonna get her to go to therapy with me.” He pushed off the wall. “Gotta get mine and her heads right if this thing is gonna last.”

  I chuckled. “Bro, you’ve been hung up on her for ten years. If it wasn’t going to last you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  He rolled his eyes. The doors behind us opened, a bed rolling out. Jetta smiled from under a pile of blankets.

  “You good to look after them if I take off?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Come over tomorrow. They’re gonna need the love.”

  “Of course.” I clasped my forearm to his, squeezing tight. “One day at a time, Paxton. That’s how we get through this.”

  He nodded, lips thinning.

  I squeezed once more, dropping his hand to slap him on his back.

  I turned, waving to Jetta as I headed for the exit. “No more adventures, Missy!”

  She laughed, offering me a wave.

  I walked out of the hospital, heading for my car. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving only guilt and anger in its wake.

  “Fuck.” I glanced at my watch. Late.

  As I started my car, I debated the merits of visiting Emmie. My stomach clenched as I remembered Pax’s face, his mutters as he positioned Jetta’s body.

  “Fuck it.” I turned left, heading for Em’s respite centre.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emmie

  The bed dipped, ripping me from a deep sleep as I rolled into a hard body. I hit out, my hands automatically trying to fend off the intruder.

  “Oof.” The body let out an expletive before hands came up to restrain my struggles. “Emmie! Stop! It’s me!”

  I froze. My heart thumped uncontrollably in my chest. In the soft light of the bedside lamp, there he was.

  Luc.

  He looked horrible. Exhausted. A quick glance at the clock said it was close to 5:00 a.m.

  “What are you…?” I choked out the words, my voice strangled, still tight with panic.

  “We just got back.” He let my hands drop. “Everyone’s okay.”

  “But if you just…?” I pushed to sitting.

  He pulled me in, avoiding my hip as he tucked his face in my hair, shuddering.

  “It all went south. We got Esso and his whole operation. Turns out the AFP were right, Esso was a puppet. The master was Paul White, Jetta’s uncle.”

  I brushed hands over his back, frowning at the rigidity of his muscles. “Fuck. Just, fuck.” His arms flexed around me. I pulled him tighter.

  “I’ve never seen Pax like that. Not since… he was… I couldn’t do anything.” He pulled back, shaking his head. “We nearly lost her, Em. Paul, he kidnapped Jetta while we were busy with Esso.”

  “How?” They’d had people on her. We weren’t some half-bit operation.

  “Her guard got caught in a distraction. It was like Paul was three steps ahead of us, pulling all our strings. It was…” He didn’t say anything for a long moment, letting me stroke his back.

  “He took Courtney too. Wanted them dead.”

  “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “It’s fucked. The whole thing is fucked. A twisted, fucked-up revenge ploy. The guy’s deranged. Jetta’s mum left Paul for her dad. Paul and the dad were band mates. Paul stayed with the band but came up with this plan to get her back. It involved drugs and shit. I don’t fully understand. When they died, Paul had nothing. He transferred all those years of hate and loathing to Jetta and Courtney. None of it makes sense to anyone but Paul White. There’s no logic or reason or…” His voice trailed off.

  “Sick people do evil things,” I whispered.

  “Esso’s people talked. Paul organised the shooting. It was a warning for Jetta.”

  I closed my eyes.

  Safe.

  That doesn’t mean you get to stay.

  “He pulled a gun on her.”

  “Jetta?”

  “She’s fine. The bullet stalled in the chamber. Pax shot him. One in the shoulder, one in the arm. I got him in the chest. The bastard isn’t even dead. He’s in surgery. ICU. Fucker will probably live.”

  His bloodshot eyes looked weary.

  “I wante
d to kill him. I was second down into the cellar, saw Pax freaking out over Jetta. Her covered in blood, seeing my best friend getting blood all over himself, crying, rocking. I–” He turned away, fists clenching.

  “It’s okay, Luc, it’s okay.” I lifted a hand to cup his jaw. “Let it out.”

  “I haven’t fucking seen him like that since Afghanistan. He lost it tonight. Fucking broke down. The shit he was saying. He thought he was going to die. PTSD. PT-fucking-SD. Jesus. Do you know how many friends I’ve lost from that? From the fucking voices in their heads? And here I am, my best fucking friend, and I didn’t know. I didn’t even fucking know. If Jetta–”

  “She didn’t. They’re fine. You said they were. All of them. If White lives or if he dies, it doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s over and they’re good. Pax and Jetta will work it out. They will, because they deserve a beautiful life. We all do.” I tried to soothe him.

  Luc’s eyes searched my face once, twice, three times. Like he was memorising it. Unable to bear the intensity I settled into the bed, pulling him down beside me.

  “Sleep. We’ll see them when you’re rested.”

  “Emmie…” He fell silent. His hands roamed my body, brushing my side, back, and face while he fidgeted, shifting about. Eventually his hands slowed and his breathing evened out. I lay like that, Luc wrapped tight around me, my fingers gently combing his hair, keeping watch as he slept.

  This was what friends did. Right?

  You keep telling yourself that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emmie

  I was bored. Bored out of my brain.

  The respite facility had a recreation centre. The centre was a gathering place for those who stayed here. The room consisted of faded vinyl floors, baby-blue walls, a TV, and some old couches. Scattered here and there were a few tables and chairs for coffee or tea, reading or playing board games.

  I’d waged war against Zac, a sassy fourteen-year-old stuck here while undergoing treatment for leukemia. I don’t want to brag, but I was whooping his arse in chess. Granted, his eyes kept wandering to fifteen-year-old Sonya. I’d noticed her eyes wandering his way occasionally.