Vengeance is Mine: A Jorja Rose Christian Suspense Thriller (Valley of Death Book 1)

by Urcelia Teixeira

  "I should just call Mad Dog and tell him what a traitor you are." She slipped her hand inside her jacket pocket.

  "No! Don't!" Zeus stopped her.

  "You're a traitor, Zeus. You betrayed Mad Dog and he should know he has a mole in his business."

  "You can't tell him, please! I'm sorry, okay? My family, they're all back in Jamaica, my sisters, my mum, they're all depending on me. Mad Dog will kill me and we will lose our house and the system will take my sisters."

  Jorja had him right where she wanted him.

  "Who hired you, Zeus?"

  He wrestled with his answer and once again Jorja's hand slipped inside her pocket to pull out her phone.

  "Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Just don't call Mad Dog, please!"

  "I'm listening."

  "Some Russian guy. He put the word out down at the corner shop about a week or so ago. When I called him up, he said he'd pay double if I got you before some guy called Uber or something got you."

  "Züber."

  "Yes, that's it. I told him I didn't know who that guy was but that it didn't matter because I already had you."

  "That's who you were on the phone with, back at the flat," she instantly recalled.

  He nodded. I called him to say I found you.

  "And? Where were you meeting him?"

  "I was supposed to take you over that way, to the middle of the woods. There's a brook running past a bench. I had to tie you to the bench and leave you there. He said he’d leave the money under the seat by daybreak."

  Jorja was quiet as she searched for a solution.

  "How far is it from here?"

  "Not far, maybe another fifty yards."

  "I should just tie you to this tree and have Mad Dog come get you," she said, suddenly struggling with what to do.

  "No, please, my sister, she's only twelve. She needs me."

  Jorja couldn't think straight. She had no reason to doubt that the Russian man he spoke of was linked to Artem Sokolov. Not many Russian-speaking people could afford that big a bounty. It would have taken him no effort at all to find out that there were only a few people in the UK who could produce quality fake identities to help her hide from him, and Mad Dog was one of them. Putting the word out on the streets was a smart move.

  She stared at Zeus where he awaited his fate. His eyes were pleading and she almost felt sorry for him. She thought of using Zeus and letting him carry out his plan. That way Sokolov's men would take her straight to him and it would save her the effort of getting into his house. Or she could continue with her own plans and hunt down the lesser of the two evils first—Gustav Züber. Once he was out of the way, she could go after Sokolov.

  She circled round to the other side of the tree until she stood just behind Zeus's right shoulder.

  "Get up," she told him.

  When he was standing, she wedged her gun firmly into his ribcage then spoke slowly next to his face.

  "Did you ever stop to ask yourself why someone is prepared to pay such a high bounty for me?"

  "He shook his head."

  "I'm not one to mess with, my friend. If you ever try to betray Mad Dog again I'll come for you myself, got it?"

  Zeus nodded.

  "You're going to go back to Mad Dog and tell him you lost me, that I got away from you. Then you're going to call your family and tell them you love them. Let this be the last stupid thing you ever do to Mad Dog or you will never see your family again."

  She let the threat sink in.

  "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

  Zeus didn't waste any time and spun around almost instantly, darting back through the trees toward the commune.

  Chapter Twenty

  When he was gone, Jorja was still wrestling over what to do. She stood in silence and gazed up into the darkness between the tall trees. Something was niggling at her but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Why would Sokolov offer a double bounty for her capture? Why not just let Züber do the dirty work, kill her, and take the fall for it? Surely it would save Sokolov from getting blood on his hands and running the risk of ruining his political reputation if he was caught?

  As she tried to unravel the myriad questions that now flooded her mind, a twig snapped from somewhere behind her. She spun round in alarm, instantly annoyed with herself for once again dropping her guard. With her gun pointed at the bush the noise had come from, she waited, searching the dark space between the branches. Another noise came from behind the thick shrubs next to it. Her body tensed as she tried to steady her heartbeat that now pulsed uncontrollably in her chest. Expecting Sokolov's men to pounce on her at any moment she flexed her now sweaty palms around her gun's grip. She knew firsthand how dangerous Sokolov was. She had heard the screams that echoed from his house when she was there once. To this day, they were all too vividly etched in her mind. She shoved the memory aside and focused on the bushes once more.

  When her body was ready to take action, ready to shoot at anyone who came out of those bushes, when she thought she would explode with tension, a fox crawled out from the undergrowth and scuttled away into the dark woodland.

  "Ugh, you little rascal!" she shouted after it.

  Although relieved that it was only a fox, the sobering experience quickly prompted her to get out of there before she did land up getting caught.

  Turning toward the leaf-covered ground that led her back into the woodland, she managed to find her way back across the open grassed park and onto the footpath between the dwellings. Her car was parked in the street on the other end of where the path would eventually end back at the commune. To get to it, she would need to cross through the courtyard and out the other side, and, unlike earlier, every money-grabbing hoodlum would've by now heard what she was worth. She would be like a sheep thrown to a pack of wolves. She paused briefly to gather her thoughts. Moving around by stealth was what she’d once done for a living. She used to be the best. There was no reason why she couldn't do it again.

  Aided by the dark shadows of the crisp night, Jorja didn't waste any time and she quickly moved between the first blocks of buildings. Her senses were on full alert, detecting every sight, smell, or sound around her. It was like riding a bicycle, she thought when she successfully moved toward the second block. In a dark corner beneath a set of stairs, low voices drifted on the icy breeze. She paused, planned her next move, then swiftly glided past them along the outside of the building.

  It took no time at all to successfully navigate the final block of flats and she soon found herself nearing the street where she had parked her car. It was well past midnight and, much to her relief—and aid—the streets were dark and quiet. When she was certain she wasn't followed, she turned the corner and hurried toward her car.

  She was tired as she neared Heathrow Airport. By now Andre would have already worked his magic online and secured a seat for her on the 7:40 a.m. flight to Geneva. She would use the few hours before daybreak to take a catnap in her car once she parked it at the airport, then sleep more on the plane, she decided. When she was almost at the airport turnoff, her cell phone rang. She tried getting her phone but couldn’t reach her satchel that was in the passenger side footwell. She unclipped her seatbelt then leaned over to pick it up, placing her bag on the seat next to her. With one hand on the wheel, she buried her other hand inside her satchel. As she blindly searched and found her phone, she wondered who would be phoning her at this time of night, not liking the uneasy feeling that had already made it into her chest.

  "Hello?"

  "Jorja, it's me." Charles's voice sounded numb on the other end of the line. "Sorry to call you this late, but... it's Ewan. I didn't want to wait until morning. I thought you should know. He didn't make it." His voice dropped toward the end and Jorja found herself unable to respond.

  "Hello? Jorja, you there?"

  "Yes, I'm here." Her voice sounded strange even to her.

  "Did you hear what I said? Ewan's gone, Jorja, he died."

  A lump forme
d in her throat when she tried to answer him and it took everything in her to force it down.

  "I... I don't understand. They said he was going to be fine. How did he... how could this be?"

  The road blurred in front of her as the tears pooled in her eyes.

  "I know, I know, I'm so sorry. We all thought he was in the clear but the doctor said several bone fragments had made it into his arteries. He removed as many as he could but one had already ruptured one of his blood vessels. They didn't catch it in time. Ewan had begun hemorrhaging while in recovery, after the second surgery. By the time they got to him, it was too late."

  Jorja could hardly breathe as the news of Ewan's death sank in.

  "I'm sorry, Jorja. I know how close you two were, but if it helps at all, he's at home with the Lord now."

  Charlie's words angered her.

  "You say that but how do you know, huh, Charlie? How do you even know Heaven exists, or God for that matter?"

  The suppressed anger in her voice took Charlie by surprise but he answered her the only way he knew how.

  "Do you believe he loved you, Jorja?"

  His question stung and she sat up in defense, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand.

  "What's that got to do with him dying?"

  "Just answer me. Do you believe he loved you?"

  "Yes, of course. I know he loved me!"

  She was shouting.

  "How do you know? Did he ever tell you?"

  "Once."

  "Once, then how do you know that was true?"

  "Because he expressed himself. I felt it when I was with him. What are you getting at?"

  "Exactly, he showed you how much he cared about you. Every time you were together you could feel it, sense it, heck we all could, every time the two of you were together in the same room."

  She started crying again, as she recalled several moments they had shared over the years.

  "God's love for us is the same way. We feel it, sense it, see it, if we allow ourselves to. Ewan was a child of God, Jorja. He's in Heaven."

  Her shoulders threatened to shake with the weight of her sadness but she reined herself in, desperate to keep her car on the road.

  "Then why did God take him? Why let him be shot in the first place? Ewan was the kindest person I knew. He didn't deserve to die, not like this."

  She was sobbing now, unable to hold it back any longer.

  "God's ways aren't always known to us, Jorja, but we have to trust that he does know what he's doing. Sometimes he reveals it to us and his reasons become clear to us at some stage, sometimes not. I know it won't take the pain away but I am going to do everything in my power to catch the guy who did this. I give you my word. And when that day comes, I will make sure he goes to jail for what he's done."

  Charlie's oath weighed heavily on her heart. She knew exactly who’d killed Ewan and she was going to make him pay for it.

  When they ended the call Jorja was no longer crying. Tears had made way for blind rage, hatred even. Charlie's words about God rang in her head and she pushed them aside. It meant nothing. God could have prevented Ewan from getting shot, stopped him from dying, saved him. But he hadn't. He’d let him die a horrible death all alone in the hospital without her even getting the chance to say goodbye. So strong were the emotions that now flooded her body that she had lost all sense of her surroundings. Overtaken by rage, regret, and plans to take revenge for her dear friend, her foot stepped down harder on the accelerator. She sped toward the airport, determined to give his murderer exactly what he deserved.

  Blinded by her goal to take revenge for everything Gustav Züber and Artem Sokolov had taken from her, Jorja didn't see the vehicle speeding toward her car until the headlights were on top of her, and it smashed into the driver’s door next to her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A million glass fragments exploded into her face moments before Jorja's body was flung to the left, then came smashing into the driver’s side hard steel door. Pain ripped through her head for the briefest of moments as her body lifted off her seat and hung weightless in the car before she came crashing down onto the dashboard. Feeling like she was inside a washing machine being pummeled on all sides by concrete boxing gloves, she tumbled and tossed out of control inside the tight space. Barely conscious of her surroundings her body left the car then slammed face-first into thorny foliage before she flipped over and thudded onto her back. Unable to breathe much she lay still, willing her mind to catch up with what had just happened. As her thoughts became clearer and the dark sky above her head came into vision, she knew she had been in a car accident. At first, she thought she might have been the cause since she was so distracted by the news of Ewan's passing. But then she recalled the deliberate thrusts into the side of her car by a silver pickup truck that had followed the initial collision. Someone had intentionally run her off the road.

  She coughed, tasting the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Ejecting it out the side of her mouth she tried sitting up but couldn't. Something was trapping her legs. When she lifted her head to see, she saw her legs had been caught between the branches of a small tree that had twisted round her legs, trapping her. Further inspection revealed the tree had saved her from rolling down a steep hill toward several sharp boulders that lined the edges of a large piece of rural land. Heaving hard as her torso twisted to one side she tried to free one leg. Pain shot through her ribs and she could hardly breathe. Again, she tried, this time trying to free the other leg instead. It worked, but she was now upside down lying headfirst toward the large boulders at the foot of the cliffside. One slip of her still trapped leg and she would slide down into the rocks below.

  And that was one fall she knew she would not survive.

  Overhead a jumbo jet flew low, its powerful turbines vibrating throughout her body. The plane's positioning and direction of flight indicated that she was on the east side of the airport, which meant the runway was just on the other side of the land below her.

  Steeling herself, she tightened her stomach muscles into a sit-up and reached toward the tree trunk, relying on every bit of muscle in her abdomen to pull her upright. But the attempt proved futile when pain ripped through her left arm the moment she tried to take hold of the tree. Cringing in agony, she collapsed onto her back and clutched her arm to her chest. Although not broken, her arm was severely sprained, rendering it entirely unusable. Tears welled in her eyes and a sense of utter hopelessness and fear overwhelmed her.

  Another plane took off and roared overhead. She couldn’t give up, she thought. She had to fight and do what she needed to do, now more than ever. For Ewan. For Ben. For herself.

  Using her uninjured arm, she attempted to sit up again, reaching into a cross-body crunch to grab hold of the tree. When her fingers eventually curled around the young tree's nearly smooth stem she pulled her body toward it, hugging it for dear life when she finally managed to sit up. Blood smudged tears ran down her cheeks and she caught herself thanking God for his help. It puzzled her, surprised her even. Almost as if the action was on autopilot and came from somewhere deep within her. She knew she could have died, should have died. The tree had saved her life. As she took a moment to make sense of it all, she couldn't help being reminded of a sermon she’d once heard about the tree of life. In the beginning, God had given it to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, representing man's dependence on God. Then, in the middle of the Bible, he reminded his people of the wisdom and guidance the tree of life offered. Until finally, in Revelation, God told his people that he restores lives through the same tree of life, by offering eternal life in Heaven through his Son, Jesus Christ.

  She recalled the conversation she’d had with Charlie. If what he said was true, and Ewan was in Heaven, what about her? Where would she have gone if she had died?

  Voices coming from somewhere behind her startled her into the present. It was dark and she couldn't see that far up the side of the hill. She listened. They were male voices. One was sho
uting something at the other, then a door slammed. Moments later a beam of light shone down the hill.

  It was them! The men who’d run her off the road. It could have only been Ludwig and his gang. Andre had mentioned that his methods were ruthless.

  Gripping the tree between her legs and leaning her shoulder against the stem, her healthy arm went to find her gun in her waistband. But it was gone. It must have fallen out during the accident. Her passport! The thought echoed in her mind. It was in her bag, in the car, along with a few staple tools she would need to get into Züber's estate. Without her bag, she would not be able to get into his property, much less onto her flight for Geneva. Her eyes searched frantically for her car and almost immediately found it at the bottom of the hill where it had landed upside down against the boulders. Between where she was flung from the car and where the wreckage had come to a halt were several yards but it wasn't impossible to get to it—difficult, but not impossible. Using one arm only, she freed herself from the tree then used the slope to diagonally slide-shuffle down toward the car. From high above her, a flashlight beamed down in search of her until it settled on the wreck. Shielded only by the pitch-black darkness, she continued shuffling her way toward the car, briefly pausing only once when the flashlight's beam nearly exposed her. It wasn't a very bright light but it was strong enough for them to discover her. Adrenaline pumped violently through her body, numbing the pain in its wake. The gun was no longer of concern—she would have had to leave her gun behind in any event. All she needed to do was grab her bag and make a run for it across the acreage. Once she got to the airport, she would be safe. She had a passport and a valid ticket, that's all she needed.

  But, in the distance behind her, at the top of the hillside, loose stones noisily rolled down, soon followed by more. The closer she came to the car the closer the tumbling stones rolled toward her, evidence that the men were climbing down to the car. She increased her speed, risking life and limb to get there first. If they caught up with her now they would finish the job and kill her, using the accident as the perfect cover-up. Her legs scraped across the rough terrain, slicing into her bottom and healthy hand along the way.