Redemption River

by Lindsay Cross

  “Yep. And I caught a conversation on the radio that there’s a crack in it. So we need to shut up and drive.”

  Hunter assumed C.W. was referring to the type of radio a man could use to listen in on other people’s conversations, but this wasn’t the time to ask questions. He throttled the motor and shot into the middle of the river. Swerved just in time to miss a fucking trailer. Jesus.

  Hoyt fell in behind, following in his wake, and they floored it, topping the Mercury motors out at full speed. Jared sat at point, keeping his light on the water in front of them. They dodged more debris.

  “Damn, this place is a mine field,” Jared yelled over the roar of the engine.

  Hunter didn’t answer. He could not focus on anything beyond saving Evie.

  There had been a funny feeling in the pit of his gut when he’d realized Maxine’s house was empty, but that pit had opened up and swallowed him whole at The Wharf. He knew Evie had overheard their conversation. He’d seen the look on her face through the window of Hank’s truck.

  He had to find her. Tell her he was sorry. Tell her he didn’t mean it.

  Tell her he loved her.

  The thought didn’t catch him off guard. The knowledge had been creeping up on him for a while. He knew it just as surely as he knew she was in danger at this very moment. More debris floated past and Hunter steered around it. The last thing he needed was to get distracted and put a hole in the hull. He wouldn’t be able to help her if his boat was at the bottom of the river.

  Hoyt whistled behind him and Hunter killed the motor.

  C.W. piped up. “We better find somewhere to pull off and kill the engines if you don’t want him to hear us coming. We got about a half-mile to go.”

  Hunter nodded. “Okay.”

  He would slow down. The element of surprise was worth more than gold. That way he could slip up behind the bastard, stick a knife in his back, and have the pleasure of twisting the blade.

  A scream ripped across the water and Hunter jerked his head in the direction of downriver. “Evie.”

  33

  Evie stared in horror at Colette’s dead, mutilated body on Marcus’s covered porch. She covered her mouth, but it was too late to take back the scream. Marcus had killed her. Why? Why would he do that?

  “Nice work, huh? That bitch mouthed off to me one too many times.”

  Evie looked over her shoulder. Marcus leaned against the door jam, arms crossed, the pistol in his hand hanging loose in his grip.

  Evie stepped back, stumbled over Colette’s leg, and hit the ground. Snake. Monster.

  “And guess who I’ve got waiting inside?” Marcus pushed off from the door, his slacks pleated and his shirt without a wrinkle. Like killing was…easy. Pleasurable, even.

  “Let her go, you bastard.” The words scraped her raw. “Let her go now.”

  Marcus waltzed toward her, his movements as indolent as his tone. He stopped at her feet. “Why don’t we go inside and visit a while first?” His sickly-sweet façade disappeared in an instant. “I said, get up.”

  Evie grabbed the rocking chair behind the dead body and lifted herself up. She recognized this side of him too. The one that itched like poison ivy to cause pain, and she knew to keep silent. Or it would get worse. A lot worse.

  She followed him inside, head down, keeping her posture meek. Subservient. Just like he preferred.

  “Good girl. Now, how about a drink? I think I’ll have my favorite.”

  Evie walked past Marcus on wooden legs. He leaned against a velvet-backed barstool in front of the granite island. The wet bar, a masterpiece of mirrored tile and stone, stretched along the back wall of the kitchen.

  Evie poured him a Crown and coke, measuring the amounts by memory and put in three cubes of ice. Brought it to him. Marcus took a sip and sighed in appreciation. “That ditz out back never got it right.” Marcus sifted a hand past her cheek and into her hair. “Not like you.”

  Evie went cold at his touch. Ice-statue cold. He held her there as he took another sip. She wished she had filled it with poison.

  “Now, where is Brown?”

  Evie couldn’t tear her gaze from his steel grey eyes, but she wanted to look away so he couldn’t see her terror or disgust. When she tried to pull back, he tightened his grip.

  “He…went for a swim.” The image of Brown grabbing his throat, blood pouring through his fingers, filled her mind. She knew she should feel guilt. Or at least regret. She felt neither. She’d felt his bullet whizz by her ear. He’d tried to kill her. Too bad he didn’t know C.W. had taught her how to shoot…and she was good. Really good.

  Marcus threw his head back and his high-pitched laughter grated across her nerves like a cheese grinder. It took every ounce of her willpower to hold still. “You killed him? You?” He shook his head.

  Evie eyed the revolver on the island behind him.

  “My, my. Haven’t we changed?” Marcus sat his drink down, followed her gaze, and picked up the gun.

  She swallowed. “He tried to shoot me. I just got to him first.”

  Not that Marcus would care unless it affected him in some way.

  “I’ll have to thank you for that. That little pissant was getting on my nerves. I was planning to kill him when he brought you to me. Now I don’t have to bother.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Evie smelled his cologne. The same one he’d worn while they were together. Her stomach churned. “My little pet has turned into a stone-cold killer.”

  “Marcus.” What could she do? She had to get him to take her to her mother. Had to get his gun. Think, Evie, think. She’d almost married the man, so she knew things about him no one else knew. She knew he liked to hurt people. She knew he liked power and money. But what he loved more than anything else was himself.

  Evie laid a hand on his chest, gently, and he let her push him back. She cleared her throat. “Marcus, your shirt is clean. I’ve been in that filthy water outside. I don’t want you to get dirty.”

  Her disgust was too obvious. Crap. Evie dropped her eyes, hiding her gaze. Breathe, Evie. Compartmentalize. Put it in a box. Marcus had taught her how to do that.

  When she looked up, her eyes held a smile like her lips, thin and fake, but real enough for him to buy it. He had no ability to recognize real happiness. To do that, he would have needed a soul.

  “How thoughtful of you.” But he didn’t put down the gun or take his assessing gaze from hers.

  “Why did you send that sleazebag Brown in the first place? I can’t stand him. He is so coarse. So…ignorant.”

  Marcus’s chest puffed up. A chest that didn’t hold a candle to Hunter’s. “You know I don’t deal directly. Besides, he’d been effective enough before.”

  “Brown was going to kill you when we got here. He was planning to take the drugs himself.” The lie slipped past her lips without even her conscious design. Marcus’s grip on her hair tightened ever so slightly.

  “So you killed him to save me?” His tone was disbelieving and Evie knew he would never buy it.

  “No. I killed him because he pointed a gun at my head.”

  Marcus pulled her in close. Her scalp burned, her side burned, but she ignored the pain. “I know when you’re lying. I’ve always been able to tell.”

  His eyes had gone light grey and angry. He tightened his grip more and Evie let the tears sting her eyes. He wanted to see her cry. She would let him. And then she would blow his head off his shoulders.

  “I’m not lying. I did kill him. Shot him in the throat and he fell into the river.” She gasped and grabbed his hand, her natural reaction to fight barely suppressed.

  “So now, my ex-fiancée, the killer, is worried about my shirt getting dirty.” His eyes went hard.

  Shit, she was losing him. Evie let the tears fall. “No. No, Marcus. I just know you don’t like to get dirty. And…and…the bar is sinking. We’re running out of money. I know I held back at first, but I need this deal to go through.”

  “You need me. Say
it, Evangeline. Tell me you need me.”

  Evie pushed words past the bile lining her throat, past her trembling lips. “I need you, Marcus. Please. I need you. I should have never left you.”

  He smiled then. That smile reserved for those special nights. The nights that haunted her nightmares. “I know you need me. You’ve always needed me. I was the one who caught you when that idiot ran from you in the first place. I was the one who taught you to be a lady. I was the one who gave you a nice house, a nice reputation.”

  He threw her back and Evie fell to the floor. Marcus stalked after her, leaving the gun on the counter. “And now you’ve come running back after you’ve been slumming at that trashy…bar.” He said it like the words were filth and he couldn’t believe he’d let them past his lips.

  Evie scrambled back, flipped to her knees, and crawled frantically into the dining room. He planted a foot on her behind and pushed. Evie sprawled forward, her arms out, legs behind, her injured ribs taking the brunt of the fall. She blacked out long enough for him to pull her to her feet by her hair. “Please. I was scared. You branded me. I didn’t know who to turn to after that.”

  He didn’t slap her like Brown had. No, that was too subtle for Marcus. He punched her, her head flew sideways, and her body followed. Evie landed on her arm and hip, the impact sending pain through her entire body from face to feet.

  “I blessed you with my mark. And you acted like it was a disease. My mark!” Marcus roared and Evie had enough awareness to scramble through the dining room door and into the living room. Marcus had always skated the line between sanity and insanity, but he seemed to have finally chosen his side.

  He grabbed her shirt; she felt the cool blade of a knife, followed by cold air on her back and chest. He cut her shirt off and yanked her to her feet, his arm wrapped around her middle, a knife pressed to her side. “This. This will stay with you forever. You will always know who you belong to.”

  Marcus traced her scar with the tip of the knife and Evie froze again, afraid he’d want to re-open the wound. “Marcus. I was just scared. I know I screwed up. Please let me have another chance.”

  He spun her then, his fingers digging into her jaw, his face suspended an inch from hers. “Why should I give you another shot? I can have any woman I want.”

  “I…I brought my boat. I can transport the drugs. I can launder your money. Whatever you want.”

  He shoved his lips to hers and invaded her mouth with his tongue. This time she couldn’t stop herself from gagging. When he pulled back they were both panting. She could see the desire in his gaze and prayed he couldn’t see the disgust in hers.

  “Yes. You can. But it won’t be drugs, my dear. You will transport a shipment of weapons to Mexico. And, you will service me in any way I see fit.” He let the words hang between them, power radiating from every square inch of his body.

  “Yes. Yes, I will,” she whispered. Oh. My. God. It wasn’t innocent pot. He didn’t have drugs. He had weapons. Weapons that could kill Americans.

  He squeezed her jaw until she cried out and then pushed her away. His gaze raked hot coals over her body, but she shivered. “But not like that. You smell disgusting.”

  Marcus grabbed her again and dragged her upstairs. Evie followed, compliant. She knew he wouldn’t touch her like this. Not intimately. She wasn’t surprised when he pushed her into their old master bathroom. “Shower. You have five minutes.”

  “Please, let me see my mom.” Evie covered her chest and hunched forward.

  “When I’m satisfied, you will be allowed to see her. Now clean up.” He shut the door and she heard the lock fall into place. The room had no windows. No other exit than the solid six-panel wood door.

  Evie turned around in a frenzied search for a weapon. Any weapon. He’d left the gun downstairs. She just had to knock him out for long enough to get her mom. Or the gun. Her gaze fell on the two-foot bronze statue in the corner next to the walk-in shower. He’d always been so proud of that piece.

  Evie turned on the shower, grabbed the statue, and flattened against the wall beside the door. She knew Marcus wouldn’t wait. He wouldn’t be able to resist torturing her with his hungry gaze. His touch.

  She waited. And waited. Time stretched out so long it felt like thirty minutes had passed rather than two. The door latch clicked and she lifted the weapon overhead. Held her breath.

  He slinked inside slowly, the smile curving his lips apparent in the mirror. Oh shit. The mirror. She saw his smile disappear as she slammed the statue down. He ducked to the side just in time and her blow glanced off his shoulder.

  Evie threw the statue and ran through their old bedroom and out to the staircase. Marcus’s footsteps pounded behind her. “You’ll pay for that.” His yell filled her ears but she kept going down. Down the grand staircase. So many steps. She reached the bottom, tripped, but righted herself. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. Marcus was right behind her.

  She gasped and took off, running for the gun. She almost made it.

  Marcus grabbed her hair and yanked backward. Evie’s feet flipped up and she slammed into the polished hardwood floor. All the air left her lungs in a whoosh and she lay paralyzed. Marcus grabbed her hand and dragged her into the living room. She heard a drawer open and started to struggle. Too late. He latched an iron cuff on her wrist.

  She tried to get to her feet, but he pulled the chain attached to the cuff and her momentum drove her forward. She hit her knees. Marcus had the other cuff on her before she could move. He pulled her, on her stomach, down the hall attached to the living room.

  Evie’s stomach bottomed out and she screamed. She knew where he was bringing her. He’d had the room built just for her. She screamed again.

  “Keep it up. No one will hear you. Well, except for your mother. You wanted to see her, right?” His smooth golden voice had disappeared into a snarl.

  He yanked so hard it felt like he’d pulled her shoulders loose. He stopped at the third door on the left, inserted a key, and pushed the door open. The lights were on, low and barely bright enough to highlight his torture chamber. He dragged her inside, used her hands to pull her to her knees. He grabbed her jaw and forced her head to the side. “Look. She’s been waiting on you.”

  Maxine’s brown hair was tangled and her eyes were wild. Duct tape covered her mouth. Her hands and legs were tied to a chair. Tears fell down her cheeks and Evie felt a sob rise in her chest. Her mom was alive. For now.

  Maxine leaned forward and yelled behind her gag. Evie realized how it must look. Her daughter shirtless, beaten, bound and bloody.

  “Keep it up. I’ll start in on you when I finish with her.” Marcus’s voice was pure menace. Evie tried to get to her feet, but he just dragged her forward again, throwing her off balance, and her stomach scraped against the floor. No more smooth hardwood. No. He’d wanted something easy to clean, easy to bleach free of blood. This floor was polished concrete.

  Marcus pulled her up and she fought. Evie summoned every reserve of strength she had left. But he was too strong. He got her hands overhead and she managed to aim a kick at his groin. He deflected the blow with his thigh and yanked her hands overhead. Latched the chain on her cuffs to a hook dangling from the ceiling.

  Evie spat in his face, unable to hold back her disgust. Marcus merely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped her spit off, and calmly returned the cloth to his pocket. He kept his arms at his sides. Loose. Then he punched her in the stomach.

  She couldn’t bend forward, but brought her knees up and gagged.

  “Looks like we will have to start over with your lessons.” Marcus walked away and Evie frantically looked at her mother and shook her head. Maxine needed to keep as quiet as possible. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her now.

  He crossed to the wall nearest Evie and selected the longest, thinnest cane from the group.

  Oh no.

  “That’s right. You remember this one. This one leaves the best impression.”
<
br />   34

  No matter how hard he listened, he couldn’t hear her screams any more. He prayed it meant she was safe. But in reality, he knew it meant she was either dead or unconscious.

  He prayed silently for the latter.

  “Fuck, row harder,” Hunter ground out. Tension coiled his entire body tight.

  “Take a left between those two cypress trees,” C.W. called out from behind them.

  Hunter plunged the oar into the water on his right and steered the boat between the trees. As soon as they rounded the corner, he saw the lodge. Lights lit the inside, but the front porch was bathed in shadows. Even so, he couldn’t miss the empty boat floating in front.

  “That’s Betsy. Evie is here,” C.W. said. Hunter could hear the alarm in his voice. It was the same alarm crawling up his spine. They glided silently beside Evie’s boat and tied off to the porch. The men unloaded one by one onto the porch.

  “Dead woman.” Jared kneeled over a body, hiding her from view.

  Hunter’s heart plummeted into his feet. “Evie?” he croaked.

  “No. Brunette. Pale. Tall,” Jared said.

  Hunter reached out for anything to hold himself up straight. His hand landed on C.W. He nodded, got his feet straight and they eased their way to the door. Hunter tried the knob and found it open. He nodded to his team and they fell into place, Ranger behind him. Jared and Hoyt ran around to the other side of the house.

  “Dad, C.W., follow us in. Stay down. Keep your gun down, but be ready.” Hunter waited for their nod of understanding before proceeding. The door swung open silently. He stepped inside, pistol raised, and walked into a gourmet kitchen complete with stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops, and a pistol on the island.

  Hunter swept right into the dining room, and Ranger swept left, through the open door out of the kitchen. C.W. and Hank split up and followed. The kitchen led to a grand dining room, complete with a crystal chandelier, then continued around into an open formal living room. Dark leather couches were placed in perfect lines. A stone fireplace dominated the main wall and climbed up the vaulted two-story ceiling. Ranger and Hank started up the staircase to their left. Hunter and C.W. moved through the living room, heading toward the connected hall.