Page 50 of Remote Access

Quincy, gun at the ready, stepped out of the room. “She didn’t have a choice, Letsen. I had a gun on her.”

Hayrick Letsen and one of his goons stood just inside the door leading from the basement. The goon already had a gun trained on him like he’d expected Quincy to appear.

Hayrick was as impeccably dressed as always, his short, slim body decked out in a black suit, his bald head shiny. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. “Now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events. If you’re here, Holt, then my littlest thief must be as well. You may as well join our little soiree.”

Quincy’s heart picked up as he hoped Lane wouldn’t move, but they were found out and they both knew it. He felt the heat of Lane’s body as he came out behind him, so he kept his eye on the man with the gun. One move and Quincy wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

“I knew you would come for that silly poster,” Letsen said as he leaned insolently against the wall.

Lane moved out from behind him and the asshole aimed his gun at Lane.

“Don’t even think about it,” Quincy said, threat dripping from his clipped words.

Lane took another step—just enough for Quincy to see that he had his gun raised as well. His hand wasn’t even shaking and the look of fury on his face was something to behold.

“Stop right there,” Hayrick ordered. “Not one more step you stupid, silly boy. I’m surprised you would put your mother in danger.”

“My mother is dead,” Lane spat.

Surprisingly, Letsen’s expression went slack. A brief look of grief flashed across his face and was quickly overshadowed by a smile. “So the bitch is gone. I didn’t even know she was ill. You’ve been a naughty boy in keeping that from me.”

“She was killed in a car accident. You have nothing on me now.”

“Don’t I? You don’t think I have precautions in place for situations such as this one? Years of information about all the things you’ve taken. Camera footage…”

“Look, I just want that poster and you know why.”

Letsen made a tsk-ing noise. “What have I told you about the power of guilt? You let it rule your life and nothing is accomplished. It’s a wasted emotion.”

Lane’s gun hand wavered and Quincy knew he was thinking of pulling the trigger.

“Looks like we have a standoff here, Letsen,” Quincy said. “Why don’t you give him the poster and let us go?”

The man’s laugh sounded more like a bark. “You took my files and you expect to just walk away. Where are they?”

“Someplace safe and if we don’t show up to get them, they’ll be turned over to the proper authorities.”

The fury that spilled over Letsen’s face made Quincy’s back draw up.

“You know, you look like him,” Hayrick said, beady eyes on Quincy. “Gerald. It took me a while to figure out why you first came after me because nothing I did would have set the cops on my shops. It was your cousin, wasn’t it? I never even put two and two together with the name Holt. He was a petty criminal sitting on something he didn’t even know he had.”

“You admit to killing him?”

“Why not? It’s not as if you’re getting out of here. Your stupid relative told me all about the underground market for stolen collectibles. He had a contact on the outside and he’d planned to join the ranks of the elite thieves once he got out. Imagine going from robbing gas stations to the kind of finesse it takes my people to pull this off. He was really stupid—the world is better off without him.”

“You’re saying my cousin set you up?”

“Inadvertently, I suppose. And imagine my joy when I realized I had a way to pay back those who had betrayed me and get what I want. Sad really that I’ll be losing my best thief and my Shelli.” He looked at Lane. “You should have run while you had the chance.” He snapped his finger and the snake-tattooed man who walked into the room behind him brought with him a world of pain and fury. Half his head held raw-looking burns that had barely started healing. The hair would never grow back and he hadn’t yet taken the time to shave the other side, so he looked lopsided.

And insane.

Quincy realized he’d get one chance, so he didn’t wait for the gun the man was reaching into his shoulder holster to pull out. He shot the first man in the chest and didn’t wait to see him go down. He was across the room, rushing Rasputin,or Fallon, with his shoulder down, slamming the man into the wall with a solid blow.

Fallon grunted and brought up a knee. Quincy barely managed to protect his balls, but a quick maneuver had that knee crunching into his abdomen. All the air was wrenched out of him, but still, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. Lane’s life depended on him. He slammed his fist into Rasputin’s face, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone under his knuckles. The asshole came back with a punch to his gut that half spun him around, followed by a jab to his kidney.

White hot pain shot through him. Quincy hit him with a double shoulder slam, the guy hitting the wall hard twice. Quincy jumped back and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lane grappling with Letsen.

A third man came running into the room.

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