Page 75 of Point Blank

“Hey bro, we’re in place.” Brock’s voice crackled over the earbud and he pulled away. His senses kicked into overdrive, and he scanned the trees and gravel around them.

“Any problems?”

“No. It’s quiet on the hillside. I saw an SUV pull up, circle the area, and then park on the south side of the lookout.”

Serena’s hand caught his wrist. He watched her throat move on a swallow. He moved his hand over hers and squeezed it.

It was go time.

Serena clicked her seatbelt in place and closed her eyes, trying to slow her drumming pulse. The vehicle pitched as Milo drove over the gravel and pulled back onto the road. He hadn’t said a word since ending his call with Brock, but he still held her fingers in his. Their previous discussion had vanished from her mind. There was no way in hell she could think more about what he’d said—not until all this was over.

She cracked open her eyelids and nausea sloshed in her stomach. Milo squeezed her fingers.

“Remember, I need you to stay back. Don’t do anything rash. They might try to do something to get a rise out of you. Hold it together and know that Brock and Peyton have our backs—and Dani’s.”

Her free hand moved to the knife at her hip. “I know.” The road twisted upward, and her stomach coiled with it. At the top of the hill, Milo turned onto a gravel road with a sign pointing toward the lookout. Her gaze immediately sought the opposite side, scanning the dark shadows for any sign of Brock and Peyton.

Nothing.

Not being able to see them, it was hard to feel reassured that they were there.

“There they are.” Milo nodded at the waiting SUV. His hand fell from hers, and he pulled to a stop twenty feet away from the hood of the criminals’ vehicle. Their headlights stretched out to each other like long, angry arms. “Remember. They get nothing until we have Dani.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

“Serena.” His tone was pained. She turned to face him but leaned forward, ready to bolt when he gave the signal. “Will you please wait here?”

She wrinkled her lip. “No. Not a chance.” He’d lost his damn mind if he thought she’d come this far to sit and watch.

His hand swooped around the back of her neck. He pulled her face to his, crushing his lips against hers. His several-day-old scruff abraded her sensitive skin, sending all kinds of kinky images to her head even though several guns would be pointed at them in about five seconds.

This might be the last time she ever got to kiss him . . .

She moved her lips against his, swiping her tongue between his teeth and reveling in the strong scent of man and adrenaline. She brought her hand to his chin and stroked her fingertips over that mulish, hard line that had scowled at her more times than she could remember.

He parted their lips and pressed his forehead to hers. “Babe. I’ve always?—”

Honk! Honk!

Serena jerked away and looked at the SUV in front of them. Two men stood next to it, outside the open driver’s side door. Her throat constricted and saliva swam in her mouth.

From this distance, she couldn’t tell if either of the men were part of the group that had attacked her. She met Milo in front of the hood of his truck. He didn’t reach for her, probably so he could grab his gun if he needed. He strode half a pace in front of her, his body like a big, muscular shield.

He stopped where the beams shining from his headlights ended. Serena moved to his side. Tremors that started at her ankles wiggled up her calves. She locked her knees together to prevent her body from succumbing to trembles. She brought her attention to the two men. The one nearest the vehicle stood broader and several inches taller than the other man. Black ski masks covered their faces. Only their eyes and lips peeked through. The wind picked up, and the wisps of hair that had come free of her ponytail tickled her cheek and tangled in her eyelashes. She snagged the traitorous strands, forced them behind her ear, and glared at the men. Her senses prickled. The shorter man’s top lip raised with amusement, and his eyes bore into hers like they had through the ski mask—he was the one she’d spoken with on the phone, the one who’d hit Dani.

The Beretta at her spine burned through her skin, demanding her to grab it and shoot him. Never in her life had the need to commit murder coursed through her veins, but it did now. He would pay. She would make sure of it.

The taller man folded his arms across his chest, and Dani’s captor took a step toward them. “One of you, bring the diamonds forward. Keep your hands where we can see them—both of you.”

Serena lifted her chin. “Release Dani first.”

The two men looked at each other, and the larger one gave a curt nod and opened the SUV’s rear driver’s side door. Slim, feminine legs in pink yoga pants stumbled onto the gravel. Serena drew a breath into her lungs and skidded forward. Milo’s firm arm, suddenly around her waist, stopped her from charging the distance between them. She hung in his hold. Her eyeballs burned, but she didn’t dare blink.

The man’s meaty hands hefted Dani up by her biceps and moved her forward in front of him. A cloth bag lay over her head. Serena’s belly spasmed on every shallow breath she forced through her teeth. Milo’s steady voice spoke into her ear, but not a syllable penetrated the fuzz as thick as spun cotton around her brain.

“Release her!” Milo barked, shaking her chest.

His familiar scruff nestled against her ear. “Did you hear Brock? He and Peyton have clear shots of these guys. As soon as Dani is out of the way, they’ll shoot.” His whisper was barely audible, but it steadied her.