by Lasky, Jesse
“Please,” she begged. “You can’t stop these people this way.”
“It’s none of your business,” he said, his brown eyes cold. “I need to do this. It’s the only way to make things right.”
She took hold of his arm again. “If this is about last night… if you feel guilty…”
“Last night has nothing to do with this!” he shouted.
She reached up, putting her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her, ignoring the connection that crackled between them even now.
“You feel guilty,” she said. “For living, for feeling, while Courtney can’t. I get that. But being stupid isn’t going to solve anything. If you want to make them suffer the way you have—the way Courtney has—this isn’t the way.”
“That’s all you do, Ava. All any of you do; talk and think. And talking and thinking isn’t going to give Courtney the justice she deserves.”
“We’re supposed to be a team!” she yelled. “If you do this, you’re making the decision for all of us.”
Jon pushed past her, heading for the door of Tavern Red.
She stepped in front of him, putting a hand on his chest. “Please.”
“Step aside, Ava.” His voice was flat and cold, no sign of the affection and friendship that had grown between them.
“They’ll kill you.”
His eyes burned through her with dire conviction. “Then so be it.”
Ava was trying to think of something to say, anything that might get Jon to listen to reason, when an ominous thud sounded behind them.
Ava turned and found herself staring into the barrels of two cocked pistols. One of them was held by a massive guy with arms like tree trunks. The other by a man with a beard, his head shaved clean.
“Well, well, well,” the guy with the beard said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“So,” The bigger guy said, “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
They had forced Ava and Jon inside, tying them to two chairs in the middle of the pub. The two men still pointed guns their way, but other than that, the mood was calm. Too calm. An older man sat with his back to them at the bar, and a group of men sat calmly at a back table as if Ava and Jon weren’t being held at gunpoint in the middle of the room.
The man with the beard—Ava thought she had heard the other guy call him Lee—smacked Jon in the face with the butt of his gun.
“Are you deaf? I asked you what you were doing here. How did you find us?”
Jon didn’t say anything, his face impassive as blood trickled from a cut on his temple. He closed his eyes as the man named Lee raised his gun to hit him again.
“Lee, Vic,” the man at the bar called to them. “Come here.”
Vic waved the gun at Jon and Ava. “Don’t even think about moving.”
“Don’t say anything to them, Ava,” Jon whispered as they walked away. “No matter what they do to me.”
Halfway to the bar, the big man named Vic turned back, leering at Ava, but talking to Jon. “She’s not bad, West. Although I have to say, I’m kind of surprised you brought us another girl after what happened to the last one.”
Jon thrashed in the chair, an expression of pure fury on his face.
Vic neared Jon again, pressing the gun against Jon’s still-bleeding temple. “Courtney, right? Was that her name? How’s she doing, anyway?” Vic’s finger rested on the trigger. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Cain!” Jon yelled. “Why don’t you stop hiding behind your hired goons and come do your own dirty work?”
Ava’s head snapped up, her attention drawn to the man at the bar. So that was Frederick Cain. The hired killer who had murdered Reena’s mother for Jacob Wells.
Vic kept his eyes on Jon as he called out to Cain, still at the bar. “Hey, boss, can I waste this guy?”
Cain didn’t even turn around. He just raised a hand, his back still to them. “As long as you clean up your mess.”
Vic aimed the gun, level with Jon’s head, as Ava looked around, frantically searching for a way to help Jon, to get them both out of this mess.
She was bracing herself for the explosion of gunfire when something came swinging from the rafters, crashing on top of Vic.
Not something. Someone.
It was Jane, her momentum knocking Vic to the floor, where he lay unconscious. Ava stared at her in shock. Jane was hardly recognizable, her hair wild, her face expressionless and cold.
She turned toward Jon and Ava, whipping a knife out of her belt and cutting the ropes that bound them as Cain and Lee rose from the bar.
Lee pointed his firearm at Jane, but before he could squeeze off a shot, the large open window to his right shattered, glass falling to the ground like rain as Reena catapulted through it, crashing into him.
The gun flew out of his hand, landing just inches from Ava’s feet, and all at once her mind started working again, Takeda’s training taking over as she bent to pick up the weapon. The metallic barrel was cool to the touch, the rubber grip firm as she wrapped her hand around it.
Ava was surprised to see Cruz. She hadn’t seen him enter the bar in the commotion. He headed straight for the bar and Reena, landing a wicked punch to Lee’s face, knocking him out as Cain turned toward Jon and Ava.
Cruz registered the chaos around him. “We really should’ve slept in,” he said dryly, jumping onto the bar and launching himself at Cain.
Cruz slammed him against the bar. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”
Cain was surprisingly calm. “Should I?”
Reena moved next to Cruz, grabbing Cain’s arm and twisting it behind his back. “What about me?” she asked. “Recognize me?”
Recognition lit his eyes. “You’re that senator’s daughter.”
“Yeah,” she said. “The senator you had killed.”
The man named Vic groaned, writhing on the ground as he gained consciousness. Jon moved in, slamming his foot into the man’s back, sending him sprawling back to the terracotta tiled floor.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jon said. He looked at Ava. “I’ve got this guy. See if the others need help.”
Ava looked around, spotting two men approaching from behind Cruz and Reena, who were still holding Cain against the bar. Remembering the men who had been drinking at the table in the back, Ava shouted a warning.
“Cruz! Behind you!”
But she shouldn’t have worried. Jane was on it, using the kicking and punching techniques Takeda had taught them to keep the men at bay. Cruz moved in to help but was quickly sidelined by three broad-shouldered men armed with pool cues.
Remembering the gun she was holding, Ava turned it on them, power moving like liquid ice through her veins. The gun felt good in her hands. Solid. Finally, she was in control.
The men froze, staring at the gun aimed their way.
“How does it feel?” she asked them. “I could kill you right now, just like you’ve killed for that bastard you call your boss.”
She contemplated doing it. Pulling the trigger and delivering justice in one shot.
“Ava…” Cruz’s voice was a warning. “Don’t do it. This isn’t how we were trained.”
Over by the bar, Jane grabbed one of the men and slammed his head into the jukebox as Reena held a knife to Cain’s throat, her face distorted by rage as she tried to get him talking.
“Admit what you did!” she screamed. “Admit it or I’ll kill you!”
But Cain must have had nerves of steel, because he remained silent, his face pressed up against the bar, a rivulet of blood running down his neck as the knife in Reena’s hand nicked his skin.
And then, someone else appeared, rising like a shadow from behind the bar. The bartender, Ava realized. He moved quickly, grabbing the knife out of Reena’s hand in one swift movement.
But it was more than the activity that had Ava’s attention. She was frozen, her eyes glued to the bartender’s face.
What the
hell was he doing here?
The momentary distraction was all Cain’s men needed. One of them lunged for her, knocking the gun from her hand as they both hit the floor. The gun slid across the tile, out of reach, as Ava kicked the monster off her with a move she’d learned during her third week on Rebun Island.
Jon and Cruz moved in, punching the other two men while Jane jumped on one of the tables, scanning the room like she was trying to get her head around all that was happening.
And then, everything seemed to slow down as Cain’s eyes stopped on Jane’s face, his expression turning to one of disbelief.
“My God. It can’t be…,” he said.
Wait a minute… Did Cain recognize Jane?
Jane, oblivious to the recognition in Cain’s eyes, flipped off the table, dealing quick, lethal blows to the last two of Cain’s men still standing.
Takeda’s group of revenge-seekers stood, breathing heavy and surveying the carnage, until the sound of rusted metal scraping against concrete screamed through the air.
Ava turned with the others toward the back door, where Cain, taking advantage of the chaos, was making his escape.
Jon took off like a shot.
“Jon! Don’t!” Ava called out.
Reena shoved the bartender off her and sprinted after Jon. Ava wasn’t surprised to see the bartender step aside now that the danger had passed. Jane’s gaze locked on him, and for a moment, Ava wondered if Jane recognized him, too.
Ava’s attention was pulled away from them as Lee stumbled up from the floor, blood pouring from his skull. She only had time to shout as he reached for the gun lying on the floor near one of the tipped-over tables.
“The gun!”
But it took him only a second to raise the weapon, pointing it at Reena as she chased after Cain with Jon. Lee squeezed the trigger.
“Reena, no!” Cruz screamed, lunging for her, pivoting his body in front of her just as he did on the cliff on Rebun Island.
The bullet slammed into his chest. He froze, shock written all over his face as he looked at the wound on his chest, already seeping red. A second later, another shot roared through the air, piercing his skin two inches to the right of the first shot.
Cruz was down.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Reena’s scream tore through the air as Cruz fell to the floor. She dropped next to him, cradling his head in her lap.
“No, no, no…,” she muttered, touching his face. “You can’t do this to me, Cruz. I need you.” Her voice rose. “Do you hear me? I need you! You can’t go!”
Two more gunshots ripped through the shocked silence. Ava was so disoriented by everything that had happened—by everything that was still happening—that it took her a minute to trace the shots to the bartender’s gun. She followed his gaze and saw Lee, crumpled on the floor, the gun that had felled Cruz still in his hand.
A crash sounded near the bar as Vic tried to stand, knocking glasses to the floor as he staggered to his feet. A second later, he lurched for the back door, following his boss out into the hot Sonoma afternoon.
“Come on, Cruz,” Reena said. “It’s time to wake up now. We still have work to do. Simon needs you. I need you.”
His face was gray, his eyes closed. Ava lifted his wrist, feeling for a pulse. When she couldn’t find one, she lowered her head to his chest, listening in vain for his heartbeat.
Ava took a deep breath and laid a hand on Reena’s shoulder. “He’s gone.”
No one moved, Reena’s quiet sobbing the only sound in the once-chaotic tavern. Ava was surprised to feel the ache of something unfamiliar, almost forgotten: loss. She didn’t think she could feel it anymore. Didn’t think she was capable of caring about anyone enough for it to matter if something happened to him.
But somehow, they had become comrades in arms. The loss of Cruz and Reena’s heartache sat like a stone on Ava’s chest.
Suddenly, two more gunshots sounded, muffled this time, coming from outside.
“Jon!” Ava jumped to her feet, crossing the room and grabbing the weapon in Lee’s lifeless hand.
She looked from Jane to Reena, hesitant to leave her after all that had happened. But Reena just nodded.
“I’m fine. Go.”
Ava knew it was a lie. It would be a long, long time before Reena was fine. But losing Jon wouldn’t change what had happened to Cruz.
“I’ll stay,” Jane said, dropping to the floor next to Reena. “Go get those bastards.”
She was almost to the back door when a familiar voice called to her from the bar.
“Don’t do this, Ava,” the bartender said.
“Don’t try to stop me, Shay.” She raced toward the exit, the weapon surprisingly comfortable in her hand.
Bursting into the alleyway behind Tavern Red, she looked around, trying to find the source of the gunshots. The sun was low in the sky, shrouding the alley in shadow, a lone Dumpster the only possible hiding spot for Cain.
She made her way toward it, gun drawn. Creeping up on the hulking piece of orange metal, she placed her back against it, preparing herself to come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. But when she looked behind the Dumpster, weapon extended in front of her, no one was there.
Tires screeched from the end of the alley, pulling Ava’s attention away from the Dumpster. She ran toward the noise, spotting a black Lincoln racing away from Tavern Red. She could make out Jon’s head in the passenger seat, which meant Cain must be driving.
She ran after the car, but only managed a few steps before nearly tripping over something. Stumbling, she looked down to see a body lying facedown in the dirt, surrounded by blood.
The Lincoln long gone, Ava bent down and turned the body over, coating her hands in blood.
It was Frederick Cain.
But then who took Jon?
She didn’t have long to consider the question as a viselike hand wrapped around her neck from behind.
“Now it’s your turn, bitch.” Ava dimly recognized Vic’s voice as he pressed her against the harsh metal of the Dumpster, forcing the life out of her.
She was only scared for a minute. Then her fear turned to anger. Anger that she wouldn’t get to finish her path of revenge. That she wouldn’t be able to make Reinhardt and Charlie pay for what they did to her.
What they did to all of them.
But even her anger was short-lived, followed by a sweet flood of tranquility as she began to lose consciousness.
Now she didn’t have to fight. She could just let go.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jane grabbed the bartender’s arm as he hurried after Ava.
“Who are you?” she demanded, studying his face, trying to figure out why the dark hair and ice-blue eyes seemed so familiar.
He hesitated. “Let go, Jane.”
She kept hold of his arm. “How do you know to call me that?”
He moved so fast, flipping her over on to her back, that she didn’t even see it coming.
And there was something else; Jane knew that move. They all did.
He pressed one black boot against Jane’s neck as she lay beneath him. It was heavy, rigid, and put her in an inescapable state of immobilization. But she sensed restraint in his muscular legs. He was being careful, trying not to hurt her.
“Stay still. And stay here.” He looked from Jane to Reena, his voice low and rough. “I need to go after Ava, but it’s not safe. Do you understand? You need to stay in here until I get back.”
And then he was gone, leaving them both to wonder how he knew them. And how he knew Takeda.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“You said you know my story. How?” Ava asks the stranger at the shelter.
He tells her it’s not important how he’s come to know her story. What’s important is doing something about it. He wants to know what Ava’s been doing to get Starling Vineyards back. What she plans to do to right the wrongs committed against her.
She blanches, shrinking in her seat. As far as she’s c
oncerned, there’s nothing she can do about it.
“Is there something you’d like to do?”
Ava’s heart thuds excitedly at the possibility. It’s not about the estate or the money. It’s about what it symbolizes. About the fact that people she trusted betrayed her as if she meant nothing, treated her life like some kind of game that they’ve now won.
Talking to Shay, she moves past heartbreak to red-hot anger.
“So what do you really want?” he asks her.
“I want to make them pay.”
“You’re talking about fukushuu,” he tells her.
Ava doesn’t even know what that means. She doesn’t care. She just wants to know who sent him.
Shay leans forward. “His name is Takeda. Satoshi Takeda.”
Shay says he can help her, his voice growing low to avoid the surrounding women, all of whom are in need of a hot meal on a cold night. He explains that Takeda specializes in the sort of retribution Ava wants, even if she hasn’t fully realized she wanted it until now.
“Not a second goes by where I don’t consider going after the people who did this to me,” she confides.
“Then why don’t you?”
Ava considers his question. She explains that she has no means. No expertise.
But Shay does. More importantly, Takeda does.
“I don’t know about this…,” Ava says.
“Sure you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be sitting here with me.”
“So you’re going to take me to Japan?”
“No, I need to stay here.”
“How can I trust you?”
“Because I know what you’ve been through,” Shay tells her. “And the fact that no one’s investigated the bastards who conned you out of your life, who show no remorse or regard for you or your family… Well, that’s why I’m doing this instead of still…”
“Instead of what?” she asks him, intrigued.
He shook his head. “It’s not important. What’s important is that I want to help. Takeda wants to help.” He pauses. “Close your eyes.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it,” he says gently. “Trust me.”