Dark Vengeance

by Kristi Belcamino

My voice sounded weird. It had a slight echo.

  She stopped and kicked at the sand with her bare foot. “Used to be.”

  “What happened?”

  We both turned to face the storm whipping the ocean in front of us.

  My hair was blowing back in the wind and it felt amazing, but then again that might just have been the drugs. I noticed that her neat braids kept her long hair sleek down her back.

  She clasped her hands before her and pressed them against her mouth.

  “The pressure got too much. Instead of being my passion, surfing became a job. Something I had to do. I had all sorts of sponsorships and started hanging with the big names. They plied me with clothing, money, drugs, jewelry, everything. It went to my head.”

  She looked over and gave me a wry smile. “I couldn’t handle it. I freaked. Got hooked on drugs. I went off in a restaurant in Hawaii – broke things, screamed, ruined lifelong friendships. Then Bry took me in. I’d met him once, surfing in Sydney. He flew in, picked me up, brought me here, sat with me as I got clean and sober. But then … well, I’m sure they told you what happened.”

  “They did. I’m sorry.” She’d lost him after he saved her from herself.

  I suddenly wanted to cry. We’d both lost so much.

  “He was even better than me. He’d been pro for years, but had the same shitty experience with it that I had and left that life behind. We thought we’d found Paradise here. Soon, word spread and other people who wanted to escape came here, too. It was perfect until X arrived.”

  “It’s going to be good again,” I said. “I promise. I’m not leaving until his rule of fear is over.”

  She shrugged and gave me a wan smile. She didn’t believe me. That’s fine. She didn’t need to believe me.

  I took another drag off the pipe. All of a sudden I wanted to sit down, plop right down on the sand. I was bombarded with terrible memories—of people I had killed, of people I had loved who had died, even visions of how they might have looked when they died, images I did not want in my head. I winced and shook my head.

  She raised an eyebrow and looked at the pipe.

  “You know that’s not just regular weed, right?”

  “Yeah, I figured the THC was stronger than what I was used to, but …” even as I said it my vision began to swim. “I didn’t realize. I’ve only had something like this in Amsterdam, and it put me down for the count for a few hours. I don’t have time for that…”

  “You don’t have a choice. That weed was laced. Maybe acid, maybe something else,” she said and shrugged.

  Fuck. She was right. All of a sudden, the waves breaking were kaledioscoping and breaking off into fractals. I was tripping. The last thing I wanted to be doing right then.

  “Motherfuck.”

  She sighed loudly. “David should’ve known better than to hand you that pipe. Come on. Let’s head back. You probably are going to want some place to chill until that wears off.”

  “Damn it,” I said. “I need to be sharp. I need to go after him.”

  She took my arm. “We got time. Let’s go back to my hut. You can chill there. I’ll fix you some hot tea.”

  Makeda’s hut was warm and cozy. She had a small fireplace in one corner that had a makeshift chimney—a pipe that snaked up and out the one window. She had candles everywhere and the floor was basically a pile of mattresses, pillows, and blankets.

  In the galley kitchen, she used propane to heat a hot pad and made me tea.

  I slunk in one corner of the blanket and pillow fort and closed my eyes, listening to her hum and work in the kitchen area. Closing my eyes didn’t stop the visions, though.

  I put a pillow over my face. Of course, that didn’t help either.

  Makeda handed me some tea.

  “Sometimes the best thing to do is just to go with it. The more you fight it, the worse it can be sometimes. Let that shit fly.”

  “I’ve got some really dark stuff in my head, though.”

  She looked at me seriously and then nodded. “Yeah, I knew right away you haven’t had it easy. But you’re strong. You can handle it.”

  I put my face in my hands. I wasn’t so sure. When I looked up again, she was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

  “I’m not sure I can,” I said.

  “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

  “I don’t know if I believe in God anymore.”

  She laughed. “How can you not? Look outside,” she gestured toward her front door facing the ocean. It was propped wide open, letting the wind in. The storm had died down and passed, and now there was just a light breeze. I craned my neck and saw that the sun had come out again and lit the water up like it was a sea of fire. “How can that not be God’s work?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.” But then monsters like X kill innocents like Matteo.

  “Sheesh, no maybe about it.”

  I reached over for the cigarette pack lying on the blankets between us. After I got one out, she handed me her cigarette and I lit mine from it. I wasn’t seeing visions anymore. I was just feeling good.

  After I inhaled and exhaled loudly, I said, “I used to believe in God until he took away everyone and everything I loved.”

  “Shit,” she drawled. “God didn’t do that. Man did that.”

  “True.”

  “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a God.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t want to argue about God right then. What I wanted was to lose this buzz so I could go do something that God would never forgive me for. And I realized that was the crux of it: How could I believe in God when I was a killer?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Makeda said with a smile and stood.

  I scoffed.

  “No, really,” she said. “I don’t have an answer for you. All I know is that I know people and despite what you have done, or what you do, you are a good person, Gia.”

  “Thanks.”

  She headed for the door. “I’ll be back. I’ve got to go tell them about Matteo. I can’t put it off any longer.”

  I frowned. She saw it. “Don’t worry, I’m saving X for you to deal with. Be back soon.”

  I sat there for a while on the blankets and finally gave in to what I’d wanted to do for days. I dialed Ryder’s number.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey yourself,” he said. He sounded like he was sleeping. I was glad he knew who I was right away. It wasn’t like we spoke on the phone on a regular basis.

  “I’m really high,” I said.

  “I figured there was some reason you would call.”

  “I’m lonely.”

  “Hold up? Who is this again?”

  I crinkled my nose. Was he fucking serious?

  He burst into laughter. “This sure as hell isn’t Giada Valentina Santella. She would never admit any vulnerability like being lonely. You must be really high.”

  I made a snorting sound. “Like you know me so well.” I said. “We’ve spent a whole week together at the most. Maybe not even that. And how do you know my full name, anyway? Kind of creepy, Ryder.”

  “I know you better than you think,” he said it in a low voice that was way too sincere for my liking. In fact, it made me wince.

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “What do you need, love?”

  He called me love! I took another drag off my cigarette, exhaling before I answered.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I filled him in. It felt amazing to share all the details with him. It wasn’t like I could tell Dante or someone else all of it. With Ryder, I could just flat out state that I’d killed the bodyguard and found Matteo’s body as a matter of fact, without worrying about censoring my words or having him reel in shock. When I finished, he was quiet for a few seconds.

  “Wonder what this guy’s story is.”

  He was right. I hadn’t even tried to find out more. I thought about what Makeda had said: Everyone was h
ere hiding from something or someone else.

  “He’s definitely hiding something. That’s how I’ll get him.”

  “Obviously X isn’t his real name, either,” Ryder said dryly. “If you get me his fingerprints, I can do some digging—I’ve still got connections back in the states. You did say he was American, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So as soon as you’re feeling back to yourself, go get those prints, Sherlock.”

  I laughed. I was about to disconnect the call when he said in a low voice, “You sure you don’t need me to come out there and help you put suntan oil on your back.”

  Hearing him say that and imagining his hands slicking oil all over my body made me suddenly crazy with desire.

  “Damn you for putting that image in my head.”

  He laughed softly.

  I hung up without saying anything else.

  21

  The boy from the surf camp was so stoned, he didn’t even feel the needle that X slid into his neck. The boy’s head slumped to the side.

  It wouldn’t kill him, but it would keep him out of the way for the time being.

  X wanted him alive. He was a valuable asset—a mole in the surf camp. Once X had Rose, the boy’s life wouldn’t matter, but for now, he wanted him to be ears and eyes for what was going on.

  The kid was smart. As soon as he’d heard X wanted the dog, he’d broken into the vet’s office and stolen the dog. All he wanted in exchange was the girl.

  Fine.

  She was becoming a burden anyway. She was no good at blow jobs, despite those pouty lips and bedroom eyes, and since he wasn’t a boob man, her plentiful offerings did nothing for him.

  After years of pretending he was turned on by his marks, he was done. Faking enthusiasm for so long had made him lose interest nearly altogether. Except for women who had money. Now, they turned him on.

  He’d given the girl the same injection earlier and told Kue and Khan that when they woke he should drive them back to the surf camp but drop them off about a half- mile away, out of sight of the others. He’d told the blonde boy how to reach him in the event that he knew something about Rose.

  Now, he just had to make a public display of having the dog so word would get to Rose. He leaned down to scratch the dog’s ears and it licked his hand. The dog was sweet, but that wouldn’t save its life. He decided he’d do something he’d never done before: he’d drive into town and have lunch at one of the sidewalk cafes. With the dog by his side.

  That should fuel the gossip.

  Just as he was heading for the bathroom to shower, his phone dinged. He glanced down. Fuck.

  The text read “Midnight tonight.”

  It wouldn’t be enough time.

  22

  I woke with a dry mouth and Makeda leaning over me, handing me what looked like a glass of fresh-squeezed juice that was a pinkish orange color.

  “This will help replenish you and rebalance your electrolytes.”

  I sat up, blinking, and gratefully took the glass from her, gulping it down.

  “Thanks,” I said, wiping my mouth and standing.

  Her hair was wet and in a neat braid down her back. She wore her wetsuit. The light filtering in the open door was blinding. It was late.

  I scrambled to my feet.

  “Easy,” she said.

  “I’m fine. Stone cold sober. I need to go.”

  I pulled on my leather motorcycle jacket, grabbed my cross-body bag, and headed out.

  My bike was parked outside the hut on the street. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t sit there. I’d show up at X’s house and demand to speak to him. Why the hell not? I’d sit there with the goddamn barking dogs until someone came outside. Or better yet, I’d disable his laser system and then just march up to his house and break the windows until I could get in or he’d come out.

  I’d stop in town and pick up supplies—crow bars? A nail gun? That would be amazing if I could find…something, anything I could use as a weapon.

  As soon as I reached the main part of town I slowed down, eying the small group of buildings. The auto garage was my best bet. The mechanic would have some tools that could be used as weapons. But his large garage door was locked tight.

  I’d have to try the small general store. Inside, I found some old fashioned straight-edge razor blades, a spade and a pair of pliers. Not the best weapons ever, but not the worst, either. I shoved the razor blades deep in my jeans’ back pocket, hoping I didn’t cut my ass wide open by accident.

  The clerk was an older man I didn’t recognize who barely glanced up when I plopped some money down on the counter. I didn’t know the exchange rate, and when he took all the bills without giving me change, I knew I was being ripped off and didn’t care.

  As soon as I walked outside, I froze.

  X was sitting there eating lunch on the deck of the one restaurant in town. He was facing me, one leg crossed over the other, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a gold necklace and slight tuft of dark hair. His eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses. His elbow was resting casually on the table with his hand up holding a lit cigarette that he now slowly brought to his mouth. He was staring at me and gave me a slight smile as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling a puff of smoke in my direction.

  He flicked the ash on the ground beside him, and that’s when I saw it.

  A leash wrapped tightly around his other hand. And then Dylan, partly under the table, lying there with his head on his paws.

  Motherfucker.

  Even as I thought these words, I felt a whoosh of air behind me and whirled in time to take the blow to my face. As I crumpled to the ground, the edges of my vision grew black. I fought it, but as soon as my face hit the pavement it took over.

  23

  X frowned, examining the woman splayed on the bed before him. He took the fireplace poker he was holding and nudged at her chest. She didn’t move. He needed her alive. He’d told Kue and Khan to be sure not to kill her, just disable her.

  Now, her wrists and ankles were tied to the bed’s four corners.

  He watched her face closely and poked her again, pushing aside the opening of the leather jacket she still wore to reveal her chest. She didn’t flinch. Her breathing was steady. He watched her chest rise up and down.

  Despite himself, he used the end of the poker to lift the bottom of her black T-shirt up, revealing her abdomen. She was in excellent shape. A fighter for sure.

  He was horny, but not for the woman in front of him. He hadn’t managed to talk Ms. Mercedes into his bed yet. The thought of her aging flesh and the money in her bank account was what really turned him on. It would be as soft as a baby’s and he would bury his face in her skin. He preferred feminine softness and curves over hard abdomens like this woman had. He wanted something he could grab hold of when he was fucking a woman.

  Even so, as a fitness enthusiast, X admired this woman’s body. She obviously took good care of herself, and he had to give her credit for that.

  A throat cleared behind him, and he startled.

  X turned.

  “Do we have something to wake her up early?” he said briskly and put the poker back in its holder by the fire. “I am short on time.”

  Kue walked over and began to shake the woman. X sighed. That hadn’t been what he had in mind, but it would work.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Kue said in his gravelly voice.

  The woman blinked and made a face. She lifted her head as far as she could off the pillow taking in the room with her gaze. Her eyes widened and her face stilled when she saw X.

  He could tell she was fighting against the pain. She had a large bruise around one eye. She’d managed to take Khan’s punch right in the temple. Knock out.

  Kue had immediately leaned down and stuck the needle in her neck, which had been the plan the entire time - to drug her enough for them to get her back to the house.

  As soon as the punch had landed, the
entire street had cleared. The waiter who had been at his side refilling his water had disappeared. The old man sitting out in front of the store on a bench? Gone.

  The islanders were well trained. Like those monkeys: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

  It hadn’t taken long for X to get them in line. A few spectacular murders had done the trick. He’d been careful to only murder visitors to the island. That way he instilled fear in them but didn’t give them ammunition to take up arms against him like they might have had he killed one of their own.

  Now the woman, Gia Santella, looked like she was ready to talk.

  He was eager to hear what she had to say.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Care for some tea?”

  “Fuck off,” she said.

  24

  I was well and truly fucked.

  Not only was I tied up, but he showed me just what would happen if I tried to get away. He had left the room, his face red, after I told him to fuck off, but now he was back.

  The two brutish brother bodyguards were behind him. Holding Dylan.

  My breath caught in my throat. If they hurt that dog, they would both die terrible deaths if it was the last thing I did.

  Dylan whined and squirmed when he saw me.

  “Ssshhh, boy, it’s okay,” I said.

  “He will not be okay if you try to escape. He will not be okay if you fight me. He will die, and then Rose will die,” X said. “And then you will die.”

  I glared at him.

  “Do you understand?”

  I thought about it for a few seconds. I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to, but I nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “I’m going to untie you. But if you try to escape or do anything hinky, I’ll kill the dog and you.”

  He was a fool if he was untying me. Hope rose in my throat.

  “Your hands will remain bound behind your back but I will let you up and you have the roam of the house. An alarm will go off if you open any doors to the outside, and we will find you before you make it to the driveway. The only reason I’m keeping you alive is that you are my bait. I don’t care about you. But I suspect Rose does. And she is who I want.”