Hearts and Aces (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 7) by Kaylie Hunter (great books for teens txt) 📗

“Got it. You think it’s safe enough with all the windows?”

“I had bulletproof glass installed in the atrium when we installed it on the sliding doors.”

“Always one step ahead of me,” Tyler grumbled.

“I trust you to catch the things I miss, Tyler, and you excel at it. That’s why we make a good team. Now, if you’re not too busy with your pity party, can you help convert the atrium into a nursery?”

Abigail squealed, delighted. Tyler smirked and walked out with her.

I turned to move one of the boxes when Storm started barking. I stepped into the hallway to find Storm frantically scratching at the furnace room door.

“Get the kids upstairs! Lockdown!”

Several of the Devil’s Players grabbed Beth and the kids, running for the stairs. Wild Card ran into the gym and activated the security alarm. Bridget or Alex would protect Hattie. I glanced back at Wild Card, confirming he’d also pulled his gun.

The second I opened the furnace room door, Storm took off at full speed down the tunnel leading to Donovan’s house. I glanced briefly in the tunnel, seeing it was empty except for the dog, before following.

“If someone shoots, we’re trapped with nowhere to duck and hide.”

“No worries. I plan on shooting first,” I called back as I neared the end of the tunnel.

“Let me go first,” Wild Card said when I slowed to peek out.

He didn’t give me much of an option as he stepped in front of me and into Donovan’s basement family room. I stepped out behind him. Storm had run to the back corner of the room and stood with his thick fur hiked and teeth snarled in front of the closed closet door.

“Storm, release,” I ordered, remembering some commands Beth had taught me. Storm took two steps back and stopped growing. “Heel.”

The German Shepherd made a one-eighty turn and ran over to my side. His fur was still hackled, but he was silent, waiting for his next command.

“Stay.”

Storm whined but stayed in place as I moved beside the door and raised my gun.

Wild Card moved in front of the closet; his gun aimed at chest height toward the door.

“We have three options,” I called out. “One, I open the door and let Storm attack.”

Storm barked twice.

“Two,” Wild Card said, grinning at Storm, “I empty my entire clip through that cheap ass hollow closet door.”

Storm growled.

I looked at Wild Card, and we shared a grin. “Or three, you surrender and come out with your hands in the air.”

Storm whined and sat.

“I’m coming out,” a man called. “Don’t shoot.”

One of the cartel men who’d kidnapped me the night before came out of the closet with his hands on his heads. One of the handcuffs swung freely from his wrist.

“Are you the only one in there?” I asked, holding a gun to his head.

“Si. Si. I left the others in the storage room.”

“Move forward three steps and then right two steps,” Wild Card ordered.

The man complied and while Wild Card secured his other handcuff, I swept the closet. It was empty except for some of Donovan’s camo gear.

“Did Donovan store any weapons in here?” I asked.

“No. He has a safe. Lisa had a fit the last time he left a knife out.”

“Abigail can’t even crawl yet.”

“Yes, she can.” Wild Card said, laughing. “They just don’t put her down long enough to let her.”

“Seriously? She can crawl?” I grabbed the guy and jerked him toward the tunnel that led to Alex’s house, nudging him with the barrel of my gun to move.

“She’s pretty good at it too,” Wild Card said as he followed us down the tunnel.

I heard a noise ahead and grabbed the guy in front of me to stop him.

“Who’s out there?” I yelled down the tunnel.

“Shipwreck!” a voice called from Alex’s house. “All clear on this end.”

I nudged my guy again, and we exited the tunnel a minute later.

Shipwreck grabbed my guy and manhandled him into the storage room. “I heard the alarm and decided to check on the prisoners. How’d this one escape?”

“Don’t know. You can ask him while I get a garbage bag.” I walked down the hall and into the small basement kitchenette. Under the sink, I found a box of garbage bags. I grabbed two before returning to the storage room. “Strip,” I said to the prisoners. “All of you.”

“What?” one of the guys said.

“You heard her!” Shipwreck yelled. “Strip! Now!”

The men started to remove their shoes and socks, and I turned to Wild Card. “Can you call Tyler with the all clear?”

“Gladly,” Wild Card said, looking at the prisoners as they started unbuttoning their pants. “I have no interest in watching to see what comes next.”

The men in the room had removed their jeans and socks, but still had their shirts and undershorts on. “Naked, boys. Nothing but your birthday suits.”

“We can’t take off our shirts without the handcuffs being removed.” Each had one wrist handcuffed to a six-foot chain which was bolted to the floor.

I reached into my boot and pulled a switchblade. Hitting the release, the blade snapped loudly. “Either you figure it out, or I will.”

The men started tearing the seams of their shirts and stripping off their underwear. I put on a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves and emptied the shit buckets while Shipwreck gathered the clothes in the garbage bags and shook out pillows and blankets. After the buckets were emptied, we refilled jugs of water and left food in the room before locking the door.

“Did our escapee tell you how he freed himself?” I asked Shipwreck.

“He picked the handcuff lock with the spring from a pen he had on him, but it wasn’t until the guy who dropped off breakfast this