Well, let’s lay the cards on the table then.
“Logan-“
“I’m just telling it like it is, man. They're not fucking around this time. Benson want’s something.”
I take a deep breath; “He wants what I found out in the jungle in Angola; what I’ve never told you about.”
He freezes; “What?”
I nod somberly; “It was right before we left, right before the Old Man got us out of there, when we were on contract to that Warlord.”
Logan makes a low growling noise, and I have to agree. Being a gun for hire is one thing, but doing it for the worst, most inhumane, corrupt, vile pieces of shit on the planet takes a chunk out of your soul. Pieces of shit like “General Rambo” in Angola; the one that had us on patrol near an archeological dig he’d “liberated” from actual scientists in the name of “freedom for Angola”, also known as “looting it for his own pockets.”
I rarely associated with Benson back then. He was just one of those over-the-top macho guys; loud, boisterous, aggressive, and all sorts of traits that really don’t mesh well at all with someone on heroin. But, I was on patrol with him that night; the night we found the car wreck.
I tell Logan about the military case stashed in the back, covered with tarp and handcuffed to a dead-man’s hand. He’s silent when I tell him about cracking it open with Benson and practically dropping to my knees at the sight of the absolute fortune in large, sparkling, uncut diamonds filling the case. Papers stashed with them have them coming from China, which is absolute bullshit, and pretty much the surest sign of them being conflict diamonds from the region.
My voice is icy as I tell about making the pact with Benson, as loathsome a person he is, to split it. This is pre-William, pre-sobriety, pre-new-life, and pre becoming the man I am today. I had two things on my mind back then: junk, and how to get money to buy more junk, and that case was my mother-load.
It’s barely a week later when William Archer shows up and changes fucking everything. Yeah, I’ve heard the story from Hudson and Logan a million times about how the Old Man “saw things” in people, but I’ll still never understand it. I don’t care how good a person is inside; a junky is first and foremost a junky, and by proxy, not a good person. Heroin exposes the worst parts of your soul and makes them your everyday, and what the fuck William saw in a cracked-out, strung-out, lying, broken, and abject waste of life like myself back then is Goddamn beyond me.
And then I tell Logan what I’ve never told anyone. I tell him about the night before we leave with William; the night before we just say fuck it and get the hell out of that hellish existence. I tell him about trudging out to the cave where Benson and I buried the case, half out of my mind with withdrawal already and somehow driving the case back to camp in the jeep; the case that’s under my feet when we leave the next day.
Logan swears; “Jesus fuck. Well let’s call them in here and just fuckin tell them! We’re literally billionaires, Bryce; we don’t exactly need the mone-“
“They’re gone.”
And now we come to the crux of it all.
There’s a beat; “What?
And then I tell him about the other shoe dropping. I’m clenching my fists tight as I tell him about detoxing, about screaming and sweating out my demons in order to come out on the other side, and how the case I’ve stashed under my bed at the Old Man’s estate is just one more thing to drag me back; one more thing that ties me to the worst parts of myself. Of course, the money comes later, when William puts us in charge of his company, but it’s before that, when I’m still a shadow of a person, when I go to see him with a request; a request for him to help me me make what’s probably the largest anonymous donation Doctors without Borders and the World Health Organization has ever even heard of.
And all he does is nod and smile, as if he was just waiting for me to come to this eventuality on my own, which, knowing William, he probably was.
“They were blood diamonds, Logan, and I had to make sure they were used to heal the damage they caused in the first place.”
He’s silent in the aftermath of my admission, as if mulling it over; “Well, fuck Benson then, huh?”
I smile, hearing the grin in his voice; “Yeah, but he’s not gonna like it.”
Logan laughs grimly; “Nope. Hey, Bryce?”
I arch an eyebrow.
“You did the right thing, you know, and I’m proud of you,” He chuckles; “Even if Benson’s probably going to kill us both for it.”
Fuck this, it’s now or never.
I can feel my pulse spike as I let the words stew in my throat, letting the words form that may actually destroy us both before Benson even has a chance to; “Hey, Logan?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
There’s a breath of silence; “Shoot.”
It’s weird, talking to a wall like this with him behind me, but it’s now or never; “You know I love you like a brother, man. You’re my best friend, and-“
Logan laughs; “Jesus man, we’re not dead yet-“
“This isn’t anything I meant to keep from you, it just happened. and it couldn’t be helped.”
“Bryce, Jesus, spill it alr-“
“It’s Peyton.”
The room goes dead silent. Logan says nothing, and I swallow heavily; “It’s Peyton and me, actually.”
The shrouding silence continues, and I wince. Fuck, this is it; the calm before the Logan storm when he explodes; “Logan, I-“
And then he starts laughing.
Fuckin’ laughing.
“Look, I-“
He snorts, choking on the laughter; “Jesus that took you long enough.”
I frown; “Huh?” A million thoughts blow through my mind at once, but there’s only one thing I can think to say; “You knew?”
“Bryce, for fuck’s sake, yes I knew. Of course I knew.”
I’m actually at a loss for words; “But-“
“But I didn’t kill you?”
I’d laugh, if I wasn’t still totally fucking confused about what was going on; “In a nutshell, yeah, pretty much.”
I can hear him sigh; “My sister means the world to me, man.”
I shake my head; “Logan, I know, and I’m so-“
“Just shut up for a second. Look, you’re the strongest, most loyal, and most dedicated guy I know. You’ve seen and been able to walk away from shit that would’ve cut most guys off at the knees, but you’re still standing. A guy like you with a girl like Peyton? Are you kidding me? She’d be lucky to have you.”
There’s a moment of silence where I try and process all of this; “Hold up, so you’re not mad?”
“Am I mad? Fuck yeah I’m mad.” He sighs; “But I’m only mad because you weren’t man enough to make it work, and you let her get away.”
“It’s more complicated than-”
“No, it’s not,” He says sharply; “It never is. You still care about her?”
I clench my hands into fists, and the fact that I’m stuck in here away from her comes rushing to the surface. And suddenly, I’m just saying it; “I love her, Logan; more than anything in this world.” And as soon as I say it, I realize how true it is. I don’t just love Peyton Rivers, she’s everything; she’s the end game for me.
I can hear him chuckle behind me; “Good fucking answer.” He clears his throat; “Look, I don’t have to come up with some hardcore, menacing shit to scare you with about what happens if you hurt her, do I?”
I laugh; “Believe me, I’ve already run through anything you could possibly come up with in my own head. Consider the job already done.”
I can hear him snort; “Deal. Now let’s figure out how the fuck we’re going to get out of here and go find my sister.”
“Take your time; you don’t want to go all-in right away.”
I groan as the big man’s fist slams into my gut, doubling me over as far as I can go with my wrists chained to the wall be
hind me. Benson chuckles and shakes his head as Anderson’s fist connects with me again, making me see black spots with the air already gone from my lungs.
“Easy, Anderson, easy. The idea is to hurt him, not knock him unconscious on the third hit.”
Anderson’s face is still a mess - and I mean a fucking mess - from that night at the cafe, and it’s really the only consolation I’m taking from any of this right now. Black bruising still rings his eyes, and a stiff white plaster bandage covers his nose, making him appear like some sort of cartoon character. He makes a face at Benson before turning back and leering in close; “Aww, am I going too hard, you little pussy?”
I grin through the nausea and the throbbing pain in my gut as I look up at him; “Wait, aren’t you the crying guy that offered to pay me not to hit you again back at the restaurant?”
Logan snorts from the wall next to me, and I watch Anderson’s piggy red face go a shade darker as he turns and slams a fist across Logan’s face. He turns back to me, wiping his hand off with a towel; “Yeah, Benson, I’m gonna have to take my time here.” He leans in close, his black-rimmed eyes narrowing at me and making him appear ghoulish; “But I ain’t gonna take my time with that little lady friend of yours, you get me?”
The grin drops from my face, and red mist clouds my eyes. Instantly, I’m thrashing at my chains, heedless of and ignoring how fruitless a motion it is, because all I can think about it killing him with my bare hands in that moment.
Anderson laughs, stepping just out of reach of my bound fists and grinning wildly at me; “Oh yeah, me and her? We’re gonna have a real good time together.” I jerk forward again, snarling at him as the chains bite into my skin. Anderson laughs and then swings again, connecting with my face and knocking me back against the wall as he lets out a laugh.
“OK, enough of this.” Benson steps forward and pushes Anderson aside, and as I shake my head clear of the hit, my eyes suddenly focus on the glass and metal in his hands and I freeze.
He grins at me as he holds the needle out; “Hold him.”
Anderson storms towards me and doubles me over with another slug to the gut before he slams his forearm across my neck and holds me hard against the wall. My arms are chained outstretched on either side of me, and I start to roar as Benson steps closer to me, the needle in his hand and his eyes on my open, outstretched arm. Logan is thrashing at his restraints now, his eyes wild as the look of helplessness washes over his face.
“Remember what I promised you, Connors?” Benson steps closer and taps the needle against my arm. And suddenly, I don’t even need Anderson holding me down, because I can feel that suffocating, arresting feeling of helplessness start to grab ahold of me. I’m frozen, breathless and drowning as the metal and the sweet release it holds inside drags across my skin, and I’m staring at it with a mind-numbing blend of fear and hunger.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Connors; where the fuck are my diamonds.”
“Get the fuck away from him!” Logan growls, but I barely hear him as the rest of the world slides away into darkness. There is nothing except Benson’s voice and the sweet release the demon inside craves just millimeters away.
“Where are they.”
“I don’t- I- They’re gone.” I force the words from my mouth.
“Wrong answer.”
The needle moves up my arm to the crook of my scared elbow where the veins stand out the most. And I can feel it, and Goddamn if I’m not ready for it.
The door to the cell slams open and a man in a Blackriver tactical vest runs in; “Sir?”
Benson whirls, fury on his face; “What is it?”
The man swallows; “Sir, there’s- uh, there’s something heading right at the front gates you should come see.”
Benson frowns and starts to turn back to me; “Then deal with it, captain.”
“It’s a tank, sir.”
Benson turns sharply; “Excuse me?”
“A tank sir, and it’s headed right at us.”
And then I’m laughing. Logan looks at me like I’ve lost it, but I just grin and wink at him as Benson runs from the room; “Your sister is Goddamn nuts, you know.”
We’re coming.
The tank bellows and rumbles around us like some sort of nightmare creature, belching black smoke and probably leaving a trail of nuts and bolts from here back to Fairuza Kartal’s house. But that doesn’t even matter, because the looming double-door to the fortressed monastery is coming right for us.
Or rather, we’re about to crash through it.
We can’t shoot it - as if we even knew how in this thing - but we’re barreling at it as fast as forty-five tons of steel and iron wrapped around a diesel engine can. And I’m pretty certain that when push comes to shove between a Soviet-era metal tank and a 12th century wooden door, the tank is going to smash some shit up.
Or at least, let’s hope so, or this is going to be the most embarrassing rescue attempt of all time.
“You ready for this, darling?” I glance over towards Sasha, who looks absolutely insane sitting in the driver’s seat of the tank. With the goggles, the scarf around her neck, the cigarette dangling from her lips, and that persistent aristocratic accent, she almost looks like some sort of eccentric fighter pilot ace from the same war that this tank is from.
“Ok, I think I get it now,” I say, shaking my head.
“What’s that?”
“Why you and Bryce got along.”
She grins; “Enlighten me.”
“You’re both completely nuts.”
Sasha laughs as she turns towards me and winks; “Oh, dear, I am far crazier than that man could ever hope to be.”
I wince as bullets being to pepper the outside armor of the tank as we break through an old wooden fence and make the final approach, but Sasha just laughs and guns the engine into the highest gear, belching smoke as the thing roars towards the massive wooden gates of the stronghold; “Hold onto your ass,” She mutters.
The doors come rushing towards us, and I shut my eyes as my fingers dig into the seat beneath me; here goes nothing.
There’s a wrenching shudder as the massive tank goes crashing through the doors, splintering ancient wood and mortar across the courtyard as we come barreling through. There are men in black uniforms running everywhere, bullets falling like hail on the outside of the tank, and I can feel the rush of the adrenaline slamming through me. Sasha’s hooting out loud and she revs the engine as she points us towards the wall of the main building.
“How close to the outside wall are they?” I say suddenly, as she begins to roar the tank across the courtyard, Blackriver personal scattering away from us.
She’s quiet.
“Sasha!” I yell, the wall rushing towards us.
She shoots me a quick look; “Well how the bloody hell should I know?”
Oh shit.
We hit with the sound of a bomb going off inside my head. The tank lurches and wrenches wildly as we go crashing through brick and mortar, white stone dust pouring into the tank as the whole thing tips at an angle and comes crashing to a halt amongst the rubble. The ancient engine finally gives out as the rumbling, hulking thing shudders still.
Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4) Page 15