Retaliate

by Kristin Harte

  Motherfucker. “You’ve got five seconds to decide if you’re ready to die.”

  “You shoot, and you hit the girl.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t completely right either. I could have taken a shot. Could have aimed slightly wide of her to hit him in the neck, face, or shoulder. Hell, when I’d been in the military, I had taken that shot. More than once. I could hit my target.

  But Anabeth’s eyes met mine, so wide and blue and scared that I couldn’t risk her. Couldn’t take that chance. Another color caught my attention, though. A deep red quickly turning purple on the side of her face. A bruise. Blade had hit her.

  I was going to gut him like a motherfucking fish.

  “You’re going to regret ever stepping into this house,” I said, keeping my eyes on his. Gage grunted behind me, probably with his gun still drawn on the two. A situation I needed to deal with. I took my finger off the trigger, widened my arms and pointed my gun to the ceiling, then moved to set it down. “Disarm, Gage.”

  Another grunt, but he followed my lead, setting his handgun next to mine on the foyer table. Far enough away that Blade couldn’t get to them before us.

  The jackass hiding behind Anabeth grinned as if he’d won something. “You the big, bad military guys we keep hearing about? Don’t seem so tough to me.” He pulled Anabeth closer, nuzzling her neck and breathing his last breaths against her skin. “This is your hero, Firecrotch? Because if you were pinning all your hopes on him, you picked the wrong guy.”

  Anabeth looked right at me, still so obviously scared but also fierce. Brave in the face of her fear. Refusing to back down. “He’s never been the wrong guy.”

  I stayed quiet, watching. Waiting him out. He’d make a mistake—the guy was too twitchy not to. He probably assumed his team of guards would back him up. The way he kept darting his eyes toward the open door behind me, I could guess he expected them to come barreling in to deal with Gage and me any second now.

  The thought made me smirk. “You waiting on someone?”

  He flicked his eyes to meet mine, looking more nervous with every second that passed. “I’m not alone here.”

  Gage leaned a shoulder against the wall, pulling out his hunting knife to calmly, patiently clean the dirt out from under his thumbnail. “I’m pretty sure you are at this point. Wouldn’t you agree, Bishop?”

  I nodded, refusing to release Blade from my stare. “Totally. See, you made the mistake of coming to Justice with bikers. You can’t win against the firepower we have here with that sort of crew.”

  “What, you got some sort of killing machine out in the woods?”

  “Nah, just a sniper up in the trees.”

  His face went pale, and his arms dropped from Anabeth’s. I saw my chance, and I wasn’t letting him get his hands on her again. I dove for them, grabbing Anabeth and tossing her behind me toward Gage. He’d keep her safe, get her the fuck out of the house if she needed to escape. My focus stayed locked on Blade.

  “You never should have touched her,” I said, crouching low and prepping for a little hand-to-hand combat. “I wouldn’t have let you live either way, but that bruise on her cheek means I’m going to make it hurt.”

  He didn’t seem impressed. “Fuck you.”

  “No thanks. My dick belongs to her.” I lunged and struck, my fist connecting with his jaw in a way that nearly knocked him off his feet. I took the opportunity to pull my knife, wrapping my fingers around the thick, black handle. I liked guns. I liked explosives too. But I excelled at knife fighting. Silent, sneaky, and able to be finished with an enemy in seconds right under the nose of their partners—something about that spoke to me.

  And something about my knife in my hand made Blade’s eyes go big.

  “Gage, move,” I called as I went in for the kill. I really hoped he shielded Anabeth, that he covered her eyes or took her outside or…something. Anything. I didn’t want her to see this, but it had to be done.

  My first strike landed almost exactly as I’d planned—hard and deep, just to the side of the man’s abdomen. He spun and swung his fist, but I won the battle in terms of speed. Ducking low, I pulled my knife and struck again before the blood had time to soak his shirt. Again before the first red drops hit the floor. And I just kept moving—staying out of his reach until I had a good shot at making contact, moving with him when he tried to bulldoze me and knock me down, stabbing in the good spots every chance I could find.

  Though they were only the good spots if you wanted someone to bleed to death…quickly.

  Blade wasn’t going down without a fight, but he had no weapon, no real skills, and a brute force that exhausted quickly. In the end, I knelt over his body, his blood pooling on the floor and splattered across my chest. His eyes blank and staring. And my knife—the same one I’d been given as a newbie SEAL recruit—sticking out of his chest where I’d plunged it into his heart.

  Mission accomplished.

  I yanked the knife out of Blade’s chest and rose to my feet just as Deacon came strolling in from the kitchen with what looked like a bag of chips in his hands. Eating. The man had just killed three people, walked in on another body on the floor, and he was eating. He didn’t even blink as he took in the room.

  “We’re gonna need some serious disposal,” he said before shoving another handful of chips into his mouth.

  I grunted and backed up, shaky as the adrenaline wore off. Anabeth…my sweet, beautiful girl…stood just behind Gage. Her eyes locked on me. Looking absolutely terrified. Fuck.

  “I say we use a chipper at the mill,” Gage said, stepping away from Anabeth and frowning down at Blade’s body. “We can burn the pieces after.”

  “So long as it’s done,” I said, still staring at Anabeth. Unable to look away. Scared to death that the fear on her face when she looked at me would never leave. But something about my voice or my words seemed to bring her out of herself. He face pinked up a little, and her eyes calmed. Her body settling slightly. Still uncomfortable, but no longer terrified. I’d take that.

  “We should move,” Gage said, bending to grab Blade’s arms. “Deacon can stay as guard. My Jeep might be the only vehicle capable of crossing the road at this point. I really don’t want to get stuck in a flooded creek while sitting on four bodies.”

  No doubt, and no need to worry about my truck. The vehicle could be replaced. The girl watching me couldn’t. She never had been replaceable. I wanted to ask Anabeth if she was okay, but I knew that answer would have to be no. How could she be after seeing what we’d done? I wanted to soothe her, to wrap my arms around her and pull her close. To protect her. But I was covered in blood, and there were bodies to deal with.

  Soothing would have to wait, and I had no idea what her mind would come up with about me during that time. Other than that I’d failed at one simple task—keep her safe. The bruise on her cheek proved that.

  As the guilt of failing her flowed through me, as Deacon and Gage scuttled out the front door with Blade’s body hanging between them, I approached the one woman I knew I could never live without. The one who now might not ever be able to see me as anything other than a killer.

  “We’ll handle this mess. You go make some tea—it’s going to be a long night.”

  She stared up at me, silent, her eyes so damn wary. But then she nodded. A simple head movement that brought her fiery red hair over her shoulder. I reached out, unable not to, and wrapped a single lock around my finger before tugging lightly.

  “Be safe, Firefly. I’m coming back for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bishop

  No matter what horror movies and novels claimed, wood chippers were not the most convenient way to dispose of dead bodies.

  “I need about six more showers,” Gage said, rubbing his hand roughly over his bushy hair as he stared out the windshield.

  “Maybe if you shaved now and again, you wouldn’t feel so filthy.”

  “Women love a beard.”

  I wouldn’t
know, seeing as how I hadn’t grown one in a few years, but I didn’t give a fuck about women anyway. Just the one woman sitting back at the house we were slowly heading toward. The one who might not want to see me again—bearded or not.

  When he hit the road leading up to the ridge, Gage went silent. Focused on the nonexistent path that would take us up to Anabeth’s. Water still covered the road, and the rain just kept feeding the overflowing creek, but the flow wasn’t as fast as before. It wasn’t as bad as when I came through and lost my truck to the force.

  “One of the earthen dams upstream must have broken,” I said, nodding toward the evidence of a wider, faster body of water moving across the gravel. “That’s why I couldn’t make it through.”

  Gage grunted, downshifting as the Jeep crawled through the standing water. “Looks like it. Wonder what’s going on in town.”

  I checked my phone. “Nothing from Alder or Finn.”

  Gage kept driving, kept keeping us moving. Kept holding his tongue and focusing on the road. Until…

  “Text Katie. Make sure she’s okay.”

  I didn’t argue, pulling up her info and typing out a message as he’d asked, but there was no way I could just let that slide. “You sweet on our restaurateur?”

  He didn’t answer, which only made me more curious. And cautious.

  “She’s the sheriff’s niece.”

  “I know that.”

  Good. It needed to be a consideration. “Just making sure you know. Their relationship could be a problem for you.”

  Gage kept his dark eyes on the road, his face set in a tight, angry expression. “There’ll be no problem. I’m just looking out for the newbie.”

  There was no way I was buying that horseshit.

  But as we finally made it through the water flowing over the road, I set aside my thoughts about Gage and Katie to focus on what was truly important to me. Anabeth. I needed to know that she was okay, that she’d calmed down since we left her. That Deacon had taken care of her without taking care of her. The man had charm—anyone would agree—and though I trusted him, Anabeth was mine. Some sort of primal, animal urge to mark her, claim her, and keep her all to myself flowed through me whenever I thought of her with someone else. Something I should probably push down until I convinced her to stay.

  Or convinced her to take me with her when she left.

  Leaving Justice for good had never seemed like an option before, but after the past few days? After Blade had taken her hostage? After even the thought that she might not have made it out of that house alive? There was no way I was letting her go without a fight. One that hopefully didn’t end in bloodshed.

  Deacon opened the front door as we pulled up in the Hansen driveway, leaning a shoulder against the jamb and watching us with a slight smile on his face.

  “She drinks a lot of tea,” he said, his eyes on mine when I stepped out of the Jeep.

  “Always has. So did Miss.”

  He shrugged, switching his focus to Gage. “We all good?”

  “Yeah.” Gage climbed onto the porch, running his hand over his wet hair again. “I’ve got a couple little things to deal with, but those four won’t be telling any tales.”

  “Good.” Deacon nodded and stepped out onto the porch. “I think you need some time with your girl, Bishop. Or maybe she needs time with you.”

  Yeah. I definitely needed that. “You two sticking around?”

  “Nah,” Deacon said, shaking his head. “Gage and I will take Rex out for breakfast.”

  My lips kicked up in a smile, and I darted a look at Gage. “To Katie’s?”

  Deacon shrugged, looking like he knew exactly what he was planning. “Yeah. It’s close enough, and they’ve got good food. Plus, she doesn’t seem to mind the mutt running around her restaurant. You down, man?”

  “Could eat,” Gage said, not looking at either of us as he nodded. Too stiff to be casual. The man wanted to do more than eat, but he wasn’t admitting it. He whistled, and Rex came racing out from the hallway, jumping and slobbering all over his owner.

  “So,” I said, focusing on my friends instead of the mutt at my feet. “You two are going to breakfast, and I’m—”

  “Walking the plank.” Gage smirked.

  Accurate. “Jackass.”

  Deacon chuckled and smacked my shoulder as he walked past me. “She’s something else, that’s for sure. I can see why you’re stuck on her. Good luck, man.”

  I had a feeling I’d need it.

  Gage bumped into me, holding on to my elbow as he did. Supportive but putting me in my place. “Now I know why you never dated redheads. She’s pretty fucking unforgettable.”

  I huffed, knowing there was no way to deny that fact. “Completely.”

  He stared hard, his face serious, his hand steady on my arm. “I’m glad I didn’t fuck up and get her killed.”

  That was about as close to emotional as I’d ever seen the man.

  “Me too.” Understatement. Because if she’d died last night? My world would have ended right there where it had truly begun.

  Gage gave me a clap on the shoulder then stepped out into the rain, following Deacon across the driveway. They left me alone on the porch, heading off for food and time with the little brunette who’d moved back to town. Me? I was more interested in the redhead inside the house.

  I stared through the open door for a handful of long minutes—nerves firing and anxiety creeping higher, almost drowning me. But like when the water busted over the road, there was no way through but forward. No way to know if she could get past what I’d done to Blade if I didn’t deal with it head on. No way to convince her to stay with me if I didn’t fight.

  So I put one foot in front of the other, stepped inside, and closed the door behind me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anabeth

  Cleaning the blood of a dead man who’d pulled a knife on you off your grandmother’s wood floors had never been on my list of things to do before. Doing it while trying not to show fear to the friend of your ex who’d killed the man was about as bad as it sounded. And exhausting. The alternate reality I’d found myself in really sucked except for the fact that Bishop would be coming back to see me soon. Or at least, I hoped he would. God, if he didn’t—

  “Another cup of tea? You’re going to float away from us.” Deacon—handsome, charming, and way too smooth for the likes of Justice—shot me a teasing grin across the kitchen table. I didn’t return it.

  “Tea calms me.”

  And it did usually, but not then. I’d been in the kitchen since we finished bleaching the floor. I’d made my first cup while Deacon had been outside, burning our bloody clothes and towels. As the hours had passed and Bishop hadn’t returned, I’d kept drinking. I was on cup number eight. Maybe nine.

  I was also out of my favorite tea.

  I clung to that last mug, almost afraid to take a sip. Not wanting the comfort it offered me to end. I’d always liked minty teas. They had been a link to Bishop. He’d been chewing spearmint gum the day I met him, had been doing it again the first time he’d kissed me. When I left him, I couldn’t listen to the music that reminded me of us or watch the movies and TV programs we’d watched together. But the spearmint…the warmth inside of me as I drank the tea that tasted like him…that stayed. It became a constant in my life. A little bit of Bishop with me no matter where I went. And it was about to end for this trip because Bishop might not ever want to talk to me again.

  The thought gutted me, left me unable to think or do or pay attention to anything as the tea in the mug grew cold. As Deacon came and went. As the light began to peek over the mountains and brighten the morning sky.

  As Bishop suddenly appeared in the entryway to the kitchen.

  Big and tall, with rough edges that counteracted Deacon’s smooth ones, Bishop stole all the air from the room before breathing it back in. Something like calm settled over me as I sat there under his steely gaze. Something familiar and comfortable. Something I
would hate to give up if he didn’t forgive me for what I knew I finally had to tell him.

  “I know that had to be scary,” he said, looking almost stuck. As if I would kick him out instead of invite him in. I did that to him—made him doubt. That was all on me.

  I hated myself sometimes. “It was very scary.”

  He nodded, hanging on to the wall. Bracing himself as the muscles in his biceps bulged. He stood and he blocked the door and he stared. And he dropped words like bombs in the quiet of the kitchen.

  “I don’t like killing.”

  My stomach knotted up as I took a sip of the too-cool tea to grab hold of one last little bit of calm before I dove in.

  “Yeah, well—you killed for self-defense.” I set the mug down, my hand already shaking. “I don’t have the same excuse.”

  His brows dropped, and his shoulders relaxed. Not a ton, but enough. He was with me. Paying attention. “What do you mean?”

  And there it was. My opening…my chance to lay everything out. To tell him the truth and deal with the repercussions of it. To atone for my sins. The words were hard to find after so many years of hiding them, though. Almost impossible. At least at first.

  “Anabeth?”

  Sink or swim time.

  “Finn started using drugs right after Thanksgiving of our senior year. At least, that’s when I knew he was using.” A hard, sharp pang of guilt washed over me at the shock on his face. They hadn’t known—from what I’d found out later, Finn hadn’t told his family he had a problem until much later. Months. By then…

  “Okay.” Bishop inched closer, coming to sit down in a chair beside me. Keeping his distance, though. The space between us yawned, and his eyes went flat and wary. “We didn’t find out until late that summer.”

  “I know.”

  “You were gone by then.”

  “I kept in touch with a few people, and Finn…wrote me letters.”