King burst out with a placating laugh. Greedy jackoff would chuckle at his own mother’s funeral if somebody paid him for it. “Klaus, my friend! Such a show! So I assume you are…satisfied with your sample?”

Garrett didn’t spare a glimpse at the dickwad. “Ja.” Instead, he concentrated on getting Sage ungagged, blindfold-free, and off the cross. After removing the bindings off her head and face, he unfastened the four cuffs. She stayed plastered to the wood, unable to move on her own. Carefully, he peeled away her sweat-soaked body, turning her enough to gather her in his arms. “We have a deal, Mr. King. Now get me a damn blanket. I don’t want the toy damaged by the cold.”

One of the guards handed over a flannel blanket. Garrett wrapped it around Sage before pacing back to the little living room area. As he bundled her close, he settled into the corner of a couch located close to the bar area. Tucked behind the wide wood counter was a service door. He, Z, and Wyatt had spotted the portal the second they’d entered and exchanged glances to identify it as their best escape route—if they needed it. They conjectured, based on the exterior floor plan they’d memorized from the drone shots Franzen had ordered, that the door led to a service portico from the kitchen. From there, they’d have the option of making a break for the Escalade they’d driven here or signaling to the SOC-R boat waiting for them out on the lake, manned with a team who were ready to speed in for a water extraction.

But only if they needed it.

Zeke and Wyatt had used the distraction of the last half hour to get Josie and Rayna nearer to the door too. All looked good for their contingency plan, but a seamless mission was always much better than Plan B. As King settled into a chair opposite them, looking relaxed as Pluto gazing on the River Styx, Garrett could practically taste their hitch-free ending to this nightmare. All they had to do was pay the asshole off. They’d be out the door with the girls, and the FBI would take over for their part of taking King down.

Z stepped over and sat next to him on the couch. In one hand, he carried a sizable leather briefcase. Inside was the king’s ransom they’d be turning over to this gutter shit, along with the dozen tracking beacons that had been molded into the “rubber bands” around the bills inside. Even if King decided to split up the load, they’d be able to follow his money trails. Thank fuck for micro technology.

King cast a lingering stare on the case. Garrett wouldn’t be surprised if the snake started drooling next. “It is all there, my friend,” he assured. “Twenty-five thousand for each of the women and your finder’s fee of fifteen thousand.”

King spread his hands. “I have no doubt of that, my friend. I am simply perplexed we are discussing payment now.” He flicked his gaze to Zeke. “Surely you and Gustav are interested in having your own test sessions?”

Z cocked one brow with well-practiced ease. “Will the other two do what she just did?”

King flashed a dirty grin. “Absolutely.”

“Then take the money. I have plans for my new acquisition that do not involve putting my dick on public spectacle.”

Garrett was tempted to chuckle. He was damn glad they’d gotten a recording of that. Cover identity or not, he was pretty sure that was the first and last time he’d hear Zeke turn down an offer to play with a subbie for an audience. For a long second, King scrutinized Z as if he didn’t believe it either. But he’d seen Zeke maintain his cool in situations like this—hell, worse than this—for close to five years now. King wasn’t the first leech they’d had to pry off humanity’s ass. He wouldn’t be the last. Garrett just wished he could make it hurt a little worse for the bastard, like demanding he hand over his balls along with the girls.

Z unlocked the case by pushing on a remote fob that hung on a chain around his neck. When the lock buttons pulsed green, he pushed the case to King. Garrett half expected King to cackle with glee, and King’s smirk hinted that way, but the bastard kept his cool while popping the case latches.

Reverently, King lifted back the lid.

Whoa. Seventy-five thousand dollars looked nice when it was all pretty, lined up and bundled. But the only thing Garrett saw was Zeke and himself in the hallway outside Franz’s office, waiting to have their asses tossed into slings if King really got away with that money. But this was part of the process. One more step to cross off on the glitch-free list. He forced back an impatient sigh, but it pushed in his throat again when Sage started stirring in his arms. The endorphins she’d been swimming in were starting to evaporate. Her back and her ass would start stinging soon. Goddamn, how much longer?

Apparently, much longer. With the speed of a turtle in the sun, King took out a map magnifier. He perused several hundred-dollar notes from the top of the stacks. After verifying the authenticity of the money, the guy looked back up and smiled again. “It is an immense pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen.” He pointed at Z’s chest. “And I shall take that little toy of yours now too.”

Zeke closed his fist over the fob. “You get the toy when we leave with the merchandise.”

King pouted. “Come now. Is that any way to treat a new friend? I have shown I can be trusted, have I not? Tit for tat is in order, gentlemen, if you desire to earn the same from me. Or perhaps you do not desire to earn the same?”

The bastard’s gaze narrowed. The expression had “glitch” written all over it. Instinctively, Garrett pulled Sage in tighter. He felt a matching degree of tension roll off Zeke. His friend emitted a growl. “You have seventy-five thousand reasons to trust us, friend.”

King backpedaled fast. With a nervous laugh, he spread his hands once again. “But of course. I wasn’t implying—”

“Mmmm.”

Sage’s groan, while loud, wasn’t what yanked King to a stunned stop. It was the hand she slinked up around Garrett’s neck, trying to pull him down for a fierce kiss. Garrett acted on sheer instinct in complying with her behest, hoping their long, tongue-tangling embrace swirled enough happy subbie mental mist back into her that she dropped into blissful silence again.

He should have known better.

The strength of her grip, the passion of her mouth, the undulation of her body… They all should have blasted one massive warning sign in his senses. Massive Glitch Ahead.

It happened as soon as he tried to clear the hair from her face. Her eyes, still glassy and lost, focused on him like some cravat-necked lord from one of her costume romance movies. Her lips, shiny and swollen, lifted in a dreamy smile.

“Garrett.” Her breathy inflection didn’t prevent the word from reverberating throughout the room like cannon fire. “Oh Garrett, thank you, baby.”

One second of total silence passed.

In the next, the air crackled from at least a dozen rounds getting chambered into rifles, along with the clicks of three hand guns. His, Zeke’s, and King’s.

“Shit,” Garrett muttered.

“Sounds about right,” Z returned.

Chapter Eighteen

Shit, shit, shit!

Sage dragged a hand through her hair as Garrett swung her next to him and whipped out a gun from under his pant leg. Thirty seconds. She couldn’t believe it. That was all the time it had taken for her senses to tumble from their cloud of satiation and endorphins into an ocean of dread, lined on the bottom by rocks of raw remorse.

I’m sorry. So sorry!

It was an apology Garrett would never hear aloud. He couldn’t afford the time or the distraction now that he and King glared down their gun barrels at each other. There was just one huge discrepancy in that. King and his .45 caliber were backed up by at least ten semiautomatic rifles brandished by guards who imagined this all as some grand adventure instead of a very real, very dangerous standoff. Sage gulped as she watched their untrained bodies twitching and their trigger fingers behaving worse.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Listen to me, King.” Garrett’s assertion pounded the air with shockingly calm command. “This changes nothing about the deal.”

He grabbed her and tucked her tighter behind him, but not before Sage got a longer look at his profile. Between the ruthless granite of his gaze, the rugged set of his mouth, and the maturity added by the false facial hair, he really had been transformed into a different person. Yes, she realized that was the whole idea of undercover work, but this makeover was different. Some parts of him weren’t makeup and costume glue. Some parts were wholly the man he’d become—the man who, crazily enough, had to be in disguise for her to see clearly for the first time. Gone was the reckless soldier boy who’d battled bar drunks for her. This was Garrett the man, sitting in front of a madman’s gun for her. Who might still take a bullet from that gun for her.

The man she loved so deeply, now more than ever.