by Sybil Bartel
In the meantime, a pilot friend of Luna’s, some guy Roark, was picking Preston up in Miami and taking him down to the keys for a couple flyovers to see whatever recon Preston could get. Middle of the morning, I wasn’t hopeful he’d get shit. Anyone trying to get close to that island would get plugged full of bullet holes, and daylight only made you a bigger target.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I scrubbed a hand over my face. I hadn’t been able to sleep worth a damn since my last deployment. Every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares came. They were different each night, but they were always the same damn theme—my brothers getting killed and me helpless to do a damn thing to stop it. So I didn’t even bother trying to grab some shut-eye when Luna’d sent me home. I’d laid the fuck down and tortured myself, remembering every single detail about the brunette from last night. But now my two hours were up and I needed to move. Grabbing the envelope out of my desk drawer that I always left for Mercy, I put it on top of my dresser. Then I called her.
Sounding rushed as fuck, she answered on the third ring. “What’s up, Tyce?”
She sounded like our mother used to when she called me by my full name. “I put the envelope on the dresser where I showed you. I may be gone for a while. Luna will let you know if you need to open it.”
My sister sucked in a breath like she always did. “Hold on.”
Footsteps sounded before a door opening and closing came through the line. “Okay, I can talk. Where are you going?”
“Fuck, Mercy, come on. I’m not having this conversation.” She knew the drill.
Her voice pitched higher like it did when she was fighting tears. “Well, maybe if you got a regular job, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation,” she snapped. “You’re not in the Marines anymore. When are you going to put the guns down and step back from this kind of danger? What am I supposed to tell Nash if something happens to you? That it’s okay because you left us an envelope with your bank account number and the deed to your place?”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” I ground out, pissed she was taking this here.
“Jesus, Tyce.” Her voice broke before she whispered. “You’re all we have.”
“That’s not true.” Unlike me, she had friends, ones that were alive.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t go.”
I reached for a cigarette, but then tossed the pack back down when I thought of the brunette’s face as she’d watched me smoke. “I have to.”
“Why?” she demanded. “What’s more important than me or Nash?”
My gaze fell on the framed photo on my desk of me and my nephew, and my nostrils flared. I grabbed my 9mm off my nightstand. The weight of the cold metal familiar, my finger went to the trigger. “Don’t pull this shit on me,” I warned. She knew how I felt. I fucking lived for that kid.
“What shit? That we love you, that I love you and I don’t want you to keep doing this?”
Pissed off, I threw my own bullshit back on her. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I work for a legit security firm now.” She didn’t know what it was like to relive your worst fucking day every goddamn night and be helpless to change a damn thing about it.
“Oh my God, Tyce, you’re leaving the envelope on the dresser again! How legit can that be?”
I heard her name paged in the background.
“Shit.” My sister exhaled, and because she could never hold a grudge, resignation filtered into her tone. “I gotta go. How long are you going to be gone this time?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully only a few days.”
She was paged again. “Fine. Be safe. Call or text me when you get home.”
“Yeah, okay. See ya later.” I was about to hang up.
“Tyce?”
“What?”
“I love you, big brother.”
She knew I hated that shit. Telling someone you loved them as the last thing you said before you hung up was a bad fucking omen. “Get back to work, Mercy. I’ll see you in a few days.” Hopefully I wasn’t lying.
She exhaled. “Okay, but can you do me a favor?”
I glanced at my watch as I tapped the muzzle of my 9mm in a three-beat pattern over and over on my desk. “What?”
“Text Nash before you leave, let him know you’re going? He’s getting older, and he worries a lot now.”
Christ. “Done.”
“Okay, thanks.” She hesitated. “See ya.”
“See ya.” I hung up and texted Nash even though he was in school. He wasn’t allowed to have his cell out while he was there, but he had the smart watch I’d given him, so he’d see it.
Me: Hey little man, I’m going away for a few days for work. Take care of your mom. Make her dinner. She cooks like shit.
I paused.
Then I added two words.
Love you.
I sent the text, then dialed Luna.
He answered on the first ring. “You get some sleep?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “What do we know?”
My phone buzzed with a new text.
Nash: You owe the swear jar!
“Nothing good,” Luna said. “We weren’t able to get a clear view of her kidnapper, so we don’t know who he is, but security footage showed the same late model SUV pull into the marina. The driver got out, then took an unconscious female from the back seat and carried her to a boat. Preston confirmed the same boat is docked at Dante’s island.”
“Good. Now we know where she is. I’ll come in and gear up. Were you able to secure a boat for me?” I texted Nash back.
Me: Shit is a perfectly acceptable word, but fine, I’ll pay up. Now quit texting me before you get in trouble. Get back to your schoolwork. Talk later.
“We got a bigger problem than getting you a boat,” Luna clipped.
Foregoing the usual Luna and Associates uniform of black cargos and a black polo with his company’s insignia on it, I stepped into jeans. “What kinda problem?”
“There are three other boats docked at the marina, and Preston says the place is crawling with armed security.”
I yanked a T-shirt over my head. “Head count?”
“Sixteen so far, and that’s just outside on the grounds patrolling. We don’t know how many are inside.”
Jesus Christ. I sat down on my bed. “Dante usually has three personal guards that go everywhere with him. He doesn’t take a fucking piss without one of them watching. If there are sixteen outside patrolling, there’ll be more inside. He’s expecting someone to come for her.” And the brunette was there unprotected with at least twenty fucking assholes.
“He may be expecting someone, but he won’t be prepared for us. I’ll pull together a team, and we’ll head out at sunset. If we—”
“Wait.” Fuck. I didn’t want to go in alone against sixteen fucking cartel pricks, but Dante’s promise to off her at the first sign of trouble was not an idle threat. He’d do it without hesitating. “Let me try another angle first.”
“What angle?”
“One of the assholes I used to work with. He left a year ago, and rumor was he took a job with Dante. If Dante’s on the island, chances are he’ll be there too. I’ll call him and tell him I need a job.”
“If that gets you on the island, then what?” Luna asked.
“I’ll hunt.” No other choice.
Luna exhaled then ignored my comment. “Twenty armed guards at the low end is a hell of a hot extraction.”
It wouldn’t be an extraction, it’d be a bloodbath. “I won’t leave anyone left to extract her from.”
“Jesucristo, Asher. You’re not gonna beat those numbers on your own, let alone get her out unharmed that way.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” I warned.
“I’m not, I’ve seen you shoot, but I’m being fucking practical. Putting aside the fact the client doesn’t want to start a war, you can’t—”
“Fuck the client.” Her father was stupid enough to not keep his own daughter protected. I didn’t give a
shit what he wanted. “I’m not gonna leave anyone left to have a war with.” This wasn’t my first rodeo. “Who the fuck do you think I used to work for?”
Luna didn’t say shit.
“Exactly,” I clipped. “These cartel assholes are all the same. I know what I’m dealing with.”
Luna didn’t buy into it. “You didn’t work for the cartel.”
“I worked for their number-one money launderer. Same fucking difference. They hire any gun willing to shoot first, none of them have skills past pulling the trigger, and they sure as shit don’t know dick about keeping a secure perimeter.”
“Then there’s no point in you going in solo if you’re just gonna shoot your way out. We’ll send in a team, break the perimeter, aim for containment, keep casualties to a minimum and extract her before calling the Feds and letting them handle cleanup.”
“Leave witnesses and give them enough time to scratch their ass while we try to contain them?” Was he fucking insane? “That won’t incite a war between you and Dante, it’ll guarantee it. Not to mention the second we pause to contain, they’ll hear us coming. She’ll be dead faster than we can cuff those motherfuckers.”
Luna didn’t say shit.
“You know I’m right.” With his plan, if we left anyone breathing, we were fucked.
Luna cussed in Spanish, then English. “Fuck. If you go in, can you get her out without tipping your hand?”
“What the fuck do you expect me to do? Tell her to swim her ass out to sea while I twiddle my fucking thumbs in front of sixteen armed guards and tell them I lost her?”
“Jesucristo, Asher, I know you like to pull the trigger every chance you get, but fucking work with me here.”
I was working with him. I was wasting my fucking time on this useless conversation so he could feel better about himself for walking through all scenarios. “I’ll make the call to the guy I used to work with, then get back to you.” I hung up before he could protest and had started scrolling through my contacts when a text came in.
Preston: You’re fucked.
Exhaling, I typed a reply.
Me: This is something new?
He responded almost immediately.
Preston: Three boats at the dock on the island. Two speedboats with five-to-seven person capacities. One cruiser.
The text came through, but then the three little dots cycled, telling me he was still typing. A few seconds later, another text came in.
Preston: The cruiser sleeps at least ten with a capacity of triple that.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Me: Sounds like my kinda party.
Preston: You go in solo, you’re fucked.
UNCLE DANTE SMILED, BUT IT didn’t reach his eyes. “Ludeviene.” He didn’t even glance at my captor or where he’d hit me.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and the split second of relief I’d had at seeing him sank faster than I could blink. My breath came shorter and my skin chilled beyond the too-cool forced air of the air conditioner. “What’s going on?”
Keeping his gaze on me, Uncle Dante barely nodded at the overly muscled dark-haired man standing to his right who had guns in holsters on either side of his chest. “Addis, relieve Gerald.”
Addis stepped forward.
The asshole, Gerald, let go of me. “I fucking get it. But for the record, you said to—”
“Addis,” Uncle Dante snapped, his expression flashing to fury before he carefully controlled it.
Addis unholstered one of his guns.
My blood ran cold.
Gerald threw his hands up. “Fine. Fuck, I get it. I get it.” Glaring at Addis, he stepped around him, muttering, “Fucking bitch ain’t worth shit.” He stormed toward the slider, and the man in sunglasses who’d been on the deck but who’d followed us inside opened the glass door.
Gerald strode out.
Uncle Dante looked over my shoulder at the man in sunglasses. “Tavish, take care of that.”
“Boss,” Tavish clipped before walking out the door and closing it behind him.
Uncle Dante’s gaze cut back to me, and a smile that made my skin crawl spread across his face. “Ludeviene.” He held his arms out. “Where were we?”
Addis stared me down, but the other bodyguard who was on Uncle Dante’s left leered at me as Uncle Dante approached. I stood rooted in place as a thick stew of panic and disgust churned my stomach. Forcing my voice to stay even, I glared at the man I’d been raised to call uncle. “You were about to tell me what’s going on.”
“Ever curious, I still see.” Grasping my shoulders, Uncle Dante kissed each of my cheeks as if I hadn’t been hit on both sides of my face.
Refraining from flinching at the slight contact with my sore flesh, I kept my arms at my sides. “Why did you have that man take me?” I refused to say his name.
Uncle Dante laughed. “Is that what Gerald told you?”
“He hit me,” I ground out.
His expression sobered. “He will be dealt with.”
This man no longer deserved to be called my uncle. He probably never did. As a little girl, I’d found his smile charming and his attention flattering. But now I was looking at a man in his fifties whose evil was showing through the polished exterior. No normal person needed three bodyguards, let alone the men I’d glimpsed keeping to the shadows around the grounds as the asshole Gerald dragged me up here.
“He should’ve been dealt with before he hit me.” Angry, I bit the words out without thought of consequence.
Dante cocked his head and gave me a look that I was sure was supposed to make me think he was being pensive. “You are not the same young lady I last saw at her high school graduation.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, scratching the slight stubble that was more for effect than the result of a man who’d gone a day without a shave.
“That was a long time ago.” And if this was the type of thing Dante had been up to, I understood why my father had not mentioned him nor brought him home for dinners recently, not that he brought many people around, business associates or friends, since my mother’s stroke.
“Ah.” He smiled wide. “Not so long that you don’t remember how to be a lady.”
I wanted to hit him. “Call my father. Take me home.”
Dante kept going as if I hadn’t said anything. “Where are my manners? Are you thirsty? Hungry?” He gestured toward the kitchen behind him without sparing it a glance. “I’m sure Addis or Santos can get you something.” He nodded at the third bodyguard, who had crazy eyes and looked like a serial killer on steroids. “Santos, please get our guest something cold to drink.”
With an evil smile, Santos strode toward the kitchen.
I fought for patience. “I don’t need a drink. I need to go home.” My mother would be beside herself, and stress was the last thing she needed.
Smiling again, Dante put his arm around my shoulders. “Come, sit.” Gently, but with enough pressure to know I didn’t have a choice, he urged me toward the couch.
My dress a mess, blood on the back of my arm, my feet filthy, I pivoted out of his grasp and opened my mouth to tell him I needed to clean up before I sat on a white couch, but I never got the words out.
The second I turned out of Dante’s hold, Addis drew his gun on me.
Dante chuckled as if this were an everyday occurrence. “Addis, please. You’re going to frighten our guest.”
A cell phone quietly rang.
Addis glared at me as he holstered his gun.
Dante gestured toward the couch. “Sit, Ludeviene.”
The cell phone rang again.
Addis’s jaw ticked.
Dante snapped at Addis, “Answer your phone.”
His glare on me, Addis pulled his cell out and held it to his ear. “What?” He listened a moment, then turned and walked a few paces away.
Dante grasped my injured arm with no amount of gentleness and forced me down to the couch. “Let’s talk.”
The back of my bare legs hit the co
ol leather, and I fought a shiver.
Walking back toward us, Addis still had his phone to his ear. “Hold on.” His gaze drifted a moment as he listened to whoever was on the other end, then he looked at Dante. “Boss,” he clipped. “Situation.”
“Not now,” Dante replied.
“If you want to maintain head count, we need to—”
“I said not now,” Dante interrupted, sitting down next to me. “Handle it.”
Santos came back with a glass of water and silently held it out to me.
I ignored him.
His smile, sinister and off, tipped half his mouth. “I can make you drink it if you prefer.”
Glaring at him, I took the glass as Dante sat next to me not making a single comment about his bodyguard’s threat.
Smirking, Santos moved behind Dante, and Addis walked out of the room with the phone still to his ear.
I was thirstier than I’d ever been, but I set the water on the coffee table without touching it. You couldn’t pay me to drink anything one of these men handed me. Getting kidnapped before dawn, then waking up on a boat with the midday sun high overhead and no recollection of how I got there, I knew that asshole Gerald had done more than hit me. He’d drugged me, and I wasn’t about to risk letting that happen again.
Instead, I clasped my hands, crossed my ankles, and sat perfectly straight like my mother had taught me.
Then I looked Dante in the eye. “What do you want from my father?”
I DIALED THE GUY I used to work with.
Addis picked up on the third ring. “What?”
“It’s Ty. I need a job, and I hear you got one. How about you help me out? You know my reputation.”
“I’ve got nothing.”
I called him out. “Bullshit.”
“Hanging up,” he said dryly.
I used the only play I had. “How’s the girlfriend?” Any attachments in this line of work were a death sentence for them if your shit went FUBAR. And Addis had made a mistake a little over a year ago and fallen for one of my old boss’s castoffs. I’d helped him get her out before she’d been made an example of and wound up at the bottom of the ocean. I was taking a chance he was still with her.
“You motherfucker,” Addis ground out under his breath. “Leave her out of this.”