Explosive Vengeance

by Kaylea Cross

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t mind if I witness it?” He wasn’t asking.

  She hesitated a second too long. “Of course not.” She focused on the tablet, her throat moving as she swallowed.

  He stepped closer, watching her, not the tablet she had turned on. She darted a sidelong look at him, her right hand on the screen as she pulled up the banking information.

  He stopped next to her, close enough to smell the sweet scent of her perfume and see the pulse throbbing too fast in her throat. And when she pulled up the banking information, she betrayed herself.

  “That’s not my brother’s business account, Camille,” he murmured.

  She went rigid, her eyes still on the screen. Caught in the act of trying to steal his money. “Oh. It’s not? My mistake.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled up a different account. Still not the right one.

  Guillaume seized her arm, banded his fingers tight enough around her right wrist to leave marks. “Who are you working for?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

  She wheeled to the side, her left arm flashing out. He hissed in pain as something sharp sliced through his forearm and immediately let go.

  Camille turned and raced for the gangway. Guillaume cursed, ignored Jean-Pierre as his head of security burst out of the bridge, and reached inside his jacket to draw his own weapon.

  Taking aim at Camille’s back, he fired.

  She crumpled to the ground feet from the gangway, blood blooming on the back of her suit jacket. Guillaume was on her in an instant. He grabbed her by the hair, and wound up with a fist full of wig.

  Enraged, he seized her real hair and wrenched her head back. She was choking, blood dripping down her lips and chin, her eyes filled with shock and agony.

  He leaned down to snarl in her face. “Who do you work for, bitch? Where’s Gabrielle?”

  She struggled weakly, fighting to breathe.

  He shook her, ready to strangle the life out of her rather than let her choke on her own blood. “Where is she? Tell me!”

  She thrashed in his hold, her mouth opening and closing. Beyond the ability to think. She wasn’t going to tell him anything, and he was out of patience—and control. This bitch knew who had killed his brother. He was certain of it.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled, then grabbed her by the back of her collar, dragged her to the edge of the deck and tossed her over.

  Her body hit the water with a splash and Guillaume turned to Jean-Pierre. She was a plant. There would be others watching nearby. Someone would have heard the shots, and might have seen what he’d done. He had to escape. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “What about the cargo?”

  “It’s being handled.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  No!

  Chloe watched in horror as Fleur hit the water and went under. She was too far away to help. A scream of denial locked in her throat as she raced down the dock.

  “She’s surfaced,” Heath said in her earpiece, his voice uneven, as if he was running.

  “Copy. We’re heading after Dubois,” Megan said.

  Chloe didn’t respond, her feet thudding on the wooden dock as she scanned the water for Fleur. She caught sight of her friend’s head bobbing above the waterline, one arm flailing.

  Reaching the edge of the dock, she vaulted off it, hitting the water in a clean, shallow dive. The shock of the cold water took her breath away for a moment.

  She knifed through it, staying beneath the surface, heading for the last place she’d seen Fleur. Only when her lungs threatened to burst did she come up for a breath, pushing her arms and legs to move faster, harder. She was vaguely aware of the roar of a boat motor somewhere nearby, her sole focus on saving her friend.

  The cold was already numbing her legs and arms. She wasn’t going fast enough. Fleur was getting weaker by the second. “Fleur! I’m coming. Just keep your head above water,” she shouted. Oh, dammit, she was still too far away. She’d never reach her in time—

  A dark head surfaced a few yards from where Fleur had just been.

  Heath. Somehow, he’d gotten there.

  He shook the water from his face and turned in a circle, searching for Fleur. Before Chloe could call out, he dived under the murky surface, coming up a few seconds later with Fleur, one hand on her forehead, her head resting on his shoulder as he swam to the gangway. Chloe choked back a sob and swam toward them, pushing herself as hard as she could go.

  Heath reached the gangway of the nearest ship. Two crewmembers were there to help pull Fleur from the water. Heath vaulted up and straddled her, immediately checking her vitals.

  When Chloe got there twenty seconds later, someone grabbed her hands and pulled her up. Cold water sluiced off her as she pushed everyone aside to kneel beside Fleur. Her friend’s face was eerily pale, blood soaking the front of her clothing and the gangway beneath her.

  “No pulse and she’s not breathing.” Heath immediately started chest compressions. “Get me the ship’s portable defibrillator.”

  Chloe jumped to her feet and raced up the gangway. One of the crewmembers was already on his way down carrying a bright red emergency medical kit. She grabbed it from him and tore back to Heath, walling off the terror rising inside her. Heath had dried Fleur’s chest as best he could.

  Dropping to her knees, she ripped the kit open and pulled out the defibrillator, then reached around Heath’s hands to put the paddles in place. She hit the charge button, waited until the light came on to signal the machine was ready. “Clear.”

  Heath lifted his hands and she hit the button.

  Fleur’s chest jerked with the force of the electrical current.

  Chloe held her breath, fighting the urge to shove Heath aside and take over as he checked for a pulse, keeping one hand on the dressing he’d pressed to Fleur’s wound. He was a pro. She needed to let him work without interference, much as it killed her.

  Fingers on Fleur’s carotid pulse, he nodded. “Got a rhythm.”

  Battling tears, Chloe leaned over Fleur’s head, cupping her friend’s face in her hands. “Fleur, can you hear me? You’re going to be okay. I’m here.” She’d lost so much blood.

  Hazy blue eyes opened a crack.

  “That’s right, look at me,” Chloe continued, holding Fleur’s gaze while Heath set about stopping the bleeding from the gunshot wound in her friend’s chest. “I’m right here.”

  Fleur gasped, choked as blood streamed from her mouth and nose. Chloe bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and held Fleur’s face while Heath sealed the pressure dressing. The position of the wound told her Fleur had been shot through the lung, and the bullet might have nicked her heart or a major blood vessel as well.

  “Keep talking to her,” Heath urged as he worked, prepping a large bore IV.

  Chloe blurted out something, then just kept talking. She wasn’t even sure what she said, but she needed to focus Fleur and distract her from the terror and pain. She was dimly aware of the crowd gathered around them on the gangway, and another on the dock. In the background, the eerie wail of sirens echoed on the air. Hopefully coming to help Fleur, and to go after Dubois.

  Chloe and Heath looked at each other. Shit. She couldn’t be here when the cops or first responders arrived, but how the hell could she leave Fleur like this?

  Heath’s intense blue eyes held hers. “Go,” he said. “I’ve got her. Go,” he ordered when Chloe hesitated.

  Heart being ripped in two, she bent to kiss Fleur’s forehead. “Hang on, my friend. I’ll see you soon.” I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. She forced herself to her feet, refused to look back as she ran down the gangway to the dock, searching for an escape route.

  Just before she darted up an alleyway, she glanced back. Heath was still bent over Fleur on the gangway while a crowd of people gathered around, still doing everything he could to stabilize her.

  Chloe hurried away, a haze of tears blinding her. She’d lost her earpiece in
the water and her phone was shot, so she had no way to contact the rest of the team, who would have scattered or tried to follow Dubois. It was too soon to go to the RV point they’d established as a team prior to the op, and doubling back to the hotel to find the others was risky with Dubois possibly still in the area.

  She waited almost another hour before she couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore, and headed for the hospital. She grabbed some scrubs from the laundry in the basement, changed into them and tucked her hair up inside a surgical cap before entering the emergency department. Fleur wasn’t there. She’d been rushed to surgery as soon as the ambulance crew had brought her in.

  Chloe’s heart thudded as she found her way to the operating rooms. She pushed through a doorway, was about to stop at the nurse’s station to ask about Fleur when Heath stood up from a chair down the hall. He stared at her for a long moment, salt stains marking his still-damp clothes.

  She hurried toward him, and he held a door across the hall open for her. The room was thankfully empty. “When did you get here?” she asked as soon as it closed.

  “Came with the ambulance.”

  “She’s still in surgery?”

  “No.” His eyes were somber, full of empathy. “Chloe…”

  She shook her head, took a step back. “Don’t say it.”

  He was quiet a moment. “I’m sorry. We revived her twice on the way here, but her heart gave out on the table. She’s gone.”

  Grief sank its talons deep into her chest, piercing her heart and lungs. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Everything burned.

  “When I finally met up with the others, I told them I’d wait here in case you came by.”

  Her throat was so tight she had to swallow twice to clear it. “What about Dubois?” she whispered. Please tell me that bastard hadn’t gotten away at least.

  Rather than answer, he stepped forward and gently took her by the upper arm. “Let’s go back to the hotel. We’ll talk to the others there.”

  She ripped her arm free, anger punching through the pain. “What. Happened?”

  He released a hard exhalation. “Dubois is in the wind. Amber’s trying to track him, but so far, nothing.”

  The news hit her like a blow. But there was something else. Something he was holding back because he didn’t want to tell her. “And? Just say it,” she snapped when he didn’t answer immediately.

  “Megan and Ty searched the hold of the ship. They found male migrant workers being smuggled here. The women weren’t on board.”

  Chloe stared at him while that horrific final blow sank in. The women hadn’t even been aboard. So Fleur had died for nothing.

  “Come on,” he said softly, and took her hand this time.

  Numbness threatened to swallow her. Her core temp was still low from being in the water and then staying in her wet clothes for so long, but the shock and horror were the most dangerous. It took everything she had to compartmentalize all of it as she walked with Heath out to the parking lot.

  You can’t fall apart. You can’t.

  They took a taxi to a restaurant a few blocks from their hotel, paid in cash, then walked the rest of the way.

  “My phone’s trashed from being in the water,” she said to Heath when they entered their room. It was untouched, her normal anti-trespassing measures still in place. “I need to make a secure call.”

  “Here.” He handed her his—another burner phone Megan or Ty must have given him. “The others are waiting for us. When you’re ready, we’ll call them.”

  She nodded woodenly. “We’ll need to talk about our next move. But first we need intel on those women, and Dubois.” She sat on the foot of her bed and called Trinity. The other Valkyrie already knew about the failed op and what had happened, so Chloe didn’t have to rehash anything.

  “Are you all right?” Trinity asked her.

  “Yes.” But no, not really. How could she be? “I need you to make arrangements to have Fleur’s body transported back to Paris for burial. Her parents are gone, but she has a half-sister who should be contacted.” Chloe would have handled it herself if she could have.

  “Of course. Give me her name and I’ll handle everything.”

  It felt wrong. So wrong to hand over something like this to someone else. Fleur had been her friend. Her responsibility. Not only had Chloe failed to protect her friend, she couldn’t even see to her burial. But under the circumstances she didn’t have a choice, and she had to trust that Trinity would handle everything.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, aware of Heath watching her from the doorway between their rooms. A strong, steady presence to anchor her in the midst of this emotional hurricane.

  “Amber’s been trying to track Dubois. All evidence indicates he’s still in the area, possibly even staying in Marseille.”

  Chloe tightened her jaw. Would the bastard do that? It made no sense, was too stupid a risk after what he’d done, even if he thought he was above the law here. “Keep me informed.”

  “I will.”

  Ending the call, she lowered the phone to her lap and stared at the carpet. Heath was still there, his wide shoulders all but filling the doorway. She couldn’t summon the nerve to look into his face. “It should have been me. I should have met with the broker.” Things might have ended differently. And if not, at least it would be her dead instead of Fleur.

  Quiet footfalls on the carpet made her stiffen. Her muscles were rigid as blocks of concrete as Heath sat beside her and tried to ease her into his arms.

  She pushed away and stood, avoiding looking at him. She didn’t deserve comfort. This was her fault. Fleur was dead because of her, and there was no escaping that hard truth.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, it was.” She turned away, unable to bear his concern. Then she stopped. “Thank you, for everything you did for her. I owe you.” Oh, shit, her voice was shredding, the wall holding her grief back bowing under the weight of the guilt and pain. And she had nothing to go on at the moment as to the whereabouts of the missing women or Dubois.

  “Like hell. Chloe—”

  “I’m gonna have a shower.” She hurried to the bathroom, locking the door behind her for good measure. It wouldn’t keep him out if he wanted in bad enough, but it helped give the illusion of more privacy.

  Was Dubois really still in Marseille?

  His brother had stayed here many times during business meetings. And Guillaume’s ego was just as big as Dominic’s had been. They’d both thought they were untouchable. That their money and influence could protect them from any threat.

  Not this time.

  The hair on her arms and the back of her neck rose as an iron determination formed in her gut.

  She glanced at the small window on the far wall, the pressure of her weapon a reassuring weight against the small of her back. There was a fire escape below it that led to the alley beside the hotel. The others would want to wait until they had a solid lead, then come up with a plan before acting.

  Chloe was done with that. She’d been trained to be a lone wolf. And she was a damn good one.

  Reaching into the tub, she turned on the shower, then pulled the curtain shut and started for the window. If Dubois was still in the city, she had a fair idea of where she’d find him.

  And once she did, he was a dead man.

  ****

  Alone in the adjoining bedroom, Heath sank onto his bed and pushed out a deep breath as he ran his hands over his face. They smelled of the harsh disinfectant soap he’d used to clean up at the hospital earlier.

  Fuck, what a mess.

  He’d done everything he could to keep Fleur alive, even on the way to the hospital, trying to buy her enough time for the surgical team to repair the internal damage from the bullet wound. But it hadn’t been enough, and now Chloe blamed herself, shutting herself away in the bathroom when all he wanted was to hold her tight and comfort her in any way he could.

  The anguish in her eyes when he’d
told her Fleur was gone would stay with him forever. But that haunted, devastated look when she’d found out her friend had died for nothing was even worse.

  He flopped back onto the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. He was exhausted, but Chloe had to be worse and he didn’t know what the hell to do for her. Megan had offered to come stay with her, but he’d turned the offer down because he wanted to be the one to help Chloe.

  He’d already been seriously into her last night, but now, after watching the way she’d instantly raced to save Fleur… She’d risked everything to help her friend. Hadn’t hesitated, had placed herself in serious jeopardy without a second thought.

  Heath had no defense against that kind of loyalty and bravery in a woman. People showed their true character when tested in times of danger and severe stress. What he’d seen from Chloe today had shifted something deep inside him. There was no way he could just walk away and move on when this was over. He would never find anyone as amazing as her.

  He waited a while, then glanced at his watch. Frowned. She’d been in there for almost half an hour now. More than enough time to grieve in private in the shower. The thought of her crying alone in there damn near shredded his heart.

  He got up and walked through the connecting door, heading for her bathroom. The door was still shut, the shower still running. She had to be out of hot water by now.

  Pausing for a second, he knocked twice. “Chloe? You okay in there?”

  Silence.

  He waited a beat, trying to think of something comforting to say, and came up blank. “Chloe.” He knocked again. “Just answer me and I’ll leave you alone.”

  Nothing.

  Dread gathered inside him. He tried the door, but it was locked. Muttering a curse, he took a metal coat hanger from the closet, straightened the hook, and managed to jimmy the lock free.

  Pulse tripping, he pushed the door open. “Chloe?”

  The shower curtain concealed the tub. He gripped the edge and pulled it aside, cursed even as his gut clenched.

  Empty.

  Whipping out his phone, he dialed Megan. “She’s gone. Must have climbed out through the bathroom window.”