four large Winter men.
“Do not betray our trust, Sutton,” Devil warned, an icy edge to his voice just before the door closed.
Trust and Sutton? Once, those two words would never have been married in a sentence. But now…well, Gavin did trust the man. If he wanted to save Caro, who was also a Sutton, he had to.
“Are you ready, Winter?” Sutton asked, taking up his position behind his desk.
“Ready,” Gavin said, feeling for the tiny pistol hidden in his coat.
Another knock sounded. Just one.
“Come,” Sutton called.
Everything within Gavin tensed and tightened as the door opened.
Caro stood on the threshold, a pistol pressed to her ribs, hands bound by a bit of dirty cloth, and a bruise on her cheek. Gavin’s heart lurched. At her side was Jeremiah Jones. The bastard was grinning as if he had just been declared the champion. The two of them crossed the threshold as one. Sutton nodded for the guard to close the door to the office.
Holding himself in place required all the restraint Gavin possessed. He wanted to run to Caro, to haul her away from Jones, but he didn’t dare move. Not with the pistol in her side.
“Gavin Winter,” Jones said. “We meet again.”
“Jones,” he spat. “Let her go. Your quarrel is with me.”
“You promised to exchange my sister,” Sutton added, his voice hard. “Release her now.”
“He means to kill you, Gavin!” Caro blurted, her voice choked with fear.
“Shut your gob, or I’ll shoot you,” Jones threatened, tightening his hold on her.
“I won’t.” Caro shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I won’t let him hurt you again, Gavin. He’s the one responsible for the attack on you, for the attack on your brother.”
“Here now,” Sutton said calmly. “That’s enough out of you, sister. Who gives a goddamn if Jones aims to murder Winter? One less bastard in the world.”
Caro gasped, turning her gaze on her brother. “Jasper, how could you say that?”
“Easy,” Sutton claimed. “I’m a Sutton, ain’t I? My loyalty is to you.”
Gavin forced himself to recall the plan, just as Dom had urged him. “You lied to me, you whoreson,” he said to Sutton. “You told me I’d not come to harm beneath your roof.”
Sutton shrugged, his countenance devoid of emotion. “I lied.”
“Time to face me,” Jones taunted Gavin. “A final match.”
A shiver passed down Gavin’s spine, for he knew Jones had no intention of fighting him fairly. He meant to see him dead, one way or another.
Sutton withdrew a pistol, pointing it at Gavin’s heart. “You’ll go with Jones now, and I’ll have my sister back, and whatever the hell he does with your arse is your problem, Winter.”
“No!” Caro cried out. “Gavin, you cannot go with him. I beg you.”
“I ain’t stupid, Sutton,” Jones said. “Place your bleeding pistol on the desk, and then I’ll release the girl.”
“More than ’appy to, my fine fellow,” Sutton said, making a grand show of lowering his weapon and sliding it to the very edge of his intricately carved desk, well beyond his reach. As he did so, he knocked on the surface of the desk, just beside the weapon.
It was a curious gesture, but Gavin was too caught up in watching Caro to give a damn. As long as Jones released her safely, he would take his chances with the bastard. He had a pistol hidden in his coat. The moment they were no longer in danger of Caro or anyone else being harmed, he would try to defend himself.
Unease swept over Gavin, and he sent up a silent, desperate prayer as he watched Jones lower the pistol and give Caro a shove toward Sutton. Caro moved in the direction of her brother, and then suddenly stumbled, falling to the floor.
Scarcely a moment passed between Caro’s fall and the gunshot which followed. Terror clawed at Gavin, and for a moment, he believed Caro had been wounded. His mind was scarcely able to comprehend what had happened. A panel of Sutton’s desk had blown apart, splintered wood littering the carpet. Crimson was spreading on a dazed Jones’ shirt, his chest covered in gore. The gun he’d been pointing at Caro had fallen to the floor. Gasping, and making the most wretched of sounds, Jones collapsed. Caro’s head had popped up.
Relief washed over him as understanding gradually hit. Somehow, Sutton had fired a weapon which had been secreted within his desk, because the pistol he had willingly capitulated remained on the surface, untouched. But the particulars didn’t signify to him at the