Page 73 of Nanny for the Single Dad Cowboy
I glance in the rearview mirror. The hills behind us are black and empty, safe for now. In front, the villa waits, lights glowing like a trap. And somewhere in there, Richard Kane is about to realize he’s run out of time.
I exhale slowly, letting the tension settle just enough to move. Then I nod to Beck and Zane. “Let’s go.”
Engines hum lower, tires crunch gravel, and we begin the slow, deliberate descent toward the villa, toward the storm waiting at the top of the hill.
We hit the final curve before the villa and cut the headlights. The moon is thin tonight, barely enough light to see the terraces, but we have our night vision gear on.
Ryder’s voice comes through the earpiece, clipped and calm. “Perimeter clear. Guards are in position. Side gate for entry, you know the drill.”
I nod, though he can’t see it. Beck slings his rifle and gives me a quiet, “Ready?” Zane’s fingers hover over the tablet, scanning heat signatures through the walls.
I check my own gear one last time. Rifle loaded. Sidearm ready. Adrenaline pumping, senses sharpened. One wrong move, one misstep, and we lose the element of surprise.
We move as one toward the side gate. Beck covers the approach; Zane hacks the security feed, looping camera footage like a phantom. The gate clicks quietly, just enough for us to slip through.
The villa is eerily still. Only the faint murmur of conversation inside hints at life and danger.
A guard rounds the corner first. Beck is already there. A swift strike, precise, silent. The man crumples before he can call out. I feel my pulse spike anyway—that’s the real sound of war, heart hammering even when the fight is clean.
Another guard steps out onto the terrace. Zane has him. A taser bolt hits, electricity making the man convulse and fall. No gunfire yet—we’re ghosts tonight.
Ryder’s voice whispers over the radio. “Three inside, two on the balcony. Helicopter ETA three minutes. Move fast.”
We split. Beck and I cover the main hall, Zane loops around the second floor, radio in hand, monitoring every angle. I move up the steps, keeping low, rifle tight. Every creak of the floorboards under my boots echoes like thunder.
Then—a shot. A graze. Pain slices across my shoulder and ribs. Hot, sharp, immediate. My breath catches.
“I’m hit,” I hiss into the radio, crouching behind a wall.
“How bad?” Ryder demands, as I watch Beck take out the guard who shot me in one swift move.
“I’ll live. I’m fine. Let’s keep moving,” I answer him now that we’re clear.
Beck glances at me briefly, nods, then continues clearing the hall. Zane signals that Richard is approaching the helicopter.
I push through the adrenaline haze, forward, climbing the last set of stairs. There’s no time to think about pain. Only focus. Only the target.
We breach the room swiftly. Richard freezes, seeing the rifles aimed at him, the brothers flanking every exit, taking the guards by his side. His eyes are wide, panicked, searching for an escape. The helicopter has just landed outside, ten meters from him.
He hesitates, calculating his escape, but it’s too late. Beck intercepts, pinning him against the wall. Zane moves to secure the second exit. I step closer, my gun trained, my pulse still high, my shoulder stinging with the bullet graze.
Richard’s bravado is gone. Now there’s terror, and he realizes he’s trapped, and not by the police. By us—the men who don’t negotiate with scum.
“Who are you?” he asks, face ridden with fear.
“A family you should not have messed with,” Beck spits at him.
The world narrows to the sight of Richard Kane, once a powerful CEO, turned into a scared rat—desperate, pale, pathetic. Wind from the rotors whips through the clearing, stinging my face, but all I can see is her.
Her face when she told me how he’d hunted her, voice trembling as she begged me to let her stay hidden. Her running for her life while this coward slept easy.
Something inside me snaps.
Bridging the gap between us, I grab him by the collar before he can say anything else. My fist connects with his jaw, and the sound it makes is all bone and finality. He stumbles, spits blood, and looks up at me like he doesn’t understand how the tables have turned.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Wait, let’s talk about this. You don’t understand what’s going on here. I was—“
“Save it.” My voice comes out low, cold, and unfamiliar, even to me. “This is for her,” I growl, slamming him against the wall of the villa. “For every night she couldn’t sleep. For every time she thought you’d find her.”
