Page 38 of Sawyer’s Mistake

“One, two, three … Push,” Sawyer grunted. This time, the heavy piece of furniture started sliding painfully across the floor.

“Again!” Sawyer shouted. All three men put their body weight behind the push. It slid a few feet further.

The armoire was barely in place when a body crashed against the door on the other side.

“Ok, what now? This isn’t going to hold them for long.”

“Check what Storme and Meir are up to. We need to find Paul and the women.” He’d only just finished the words when the second door to the library opened and Paul strolled in, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.

Sawyer smiled a wolfish grin. “Well, look at that. Paul.”

The older man’s eyes narrowed when he recognized Sawyer. The tumbler dropped out of his hand and rolled on the plush carpet, unbroken. Rich golden liquid stained the carpet. Paul made as if to turn around and flee.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake threatened. “I’d like nothing better than to shoot you.”

Paul turned around, his arms raised, palms up towards them. His pale blue eyes glinted coldly, showing none of the affability they’d shown the first time they met.

“Jake Sawyer. So you and your friends have come to cause havoc in my home.”

“You don’t seem scared enough.”

“Scared?” Paul laughed. “I’m surprised, I admit. Our friends have never let anybody else go before.”

“You call the Remur friends?” Meir asked, his face a mask of disgust.

“Don’t be so quick to judge. I’m doing what’s best for the people living here. For my people. Isn’t that the same thing you’re all doing?”

“We’re nothing like you,” Sawyer spat out. He looked at Kopf. “Let Storme know we found Paul.”

“Did the beautiful Saoirse also escape? Or did you leave her there? Perhaps she was the distraction that allowed you to escape …”

Sawyer gripped his gun forcefully. Hearing Saoirse’s name on Paul’s tongue made him want to punch the man in the mouth. “Don’t say her name again,” he warned. Meir stepped closer to him.

“You got her out, didn’t you,” Paul said. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. I knew you were trouble from the time I laid eyes on you, but Amélie and Miranda convinced me you could be controlled. I guess they were wrong.” He smiled and walked towards an ornate golden sofa, where he sat down, looking right at home. “So, what now?”

“You remember what I told you the last time we saw each other?” Sawyer asked.

Paul squared his shoulders, staring at Jake right in the eye. It was difficult to believe he’d ever seen Paul as a soft-spoken professor. “So that’s all? You’re here to kill me?”

There was a knock on the side door Paul had just walked through. Meir and Sawyer raised their weapons, until Kopf said, “Relax, it’s Storme.” A moment later, Storme walked into the room, leading Miranda in front of them. The beautiful brunette’s hands were zip tied in front of her.

“Paul!” she screeched, rushing towards him and falling to her knees in front of the armchair.

Paul ignored her, making no attempt to stand up, his eyes fixed on the five men in front of him.

“Messieurs, five against one doesn’t quite seem fair,” he drawled.

“We’re not here to kill you,” Sawyer said. “We’re going to tell your people what you’ve been doing, see what they think about it.”

For the first time, Paul looked uncertain. Miranda looked up at them, her brown eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You don’t understand! We’ve been protecting them!”

Before Sawyer could say anything, Storme took a step forward, towering over the woman. “Don’t bother putting on a show. We know exactly what you’ve been doing. Let’s see if your people agree with your assessment that the end justifies the means.”

“Please,” she begged, sobbing.

“You don’t need to do this,” Paul said in a conciliatory tone. “Miranda and I will leave. We won’t come back.”

Storme put the radio up to his mouth for an instant, nodding. “Zander just neutralized the last two guards. Are there any guards in the dining room?”