by Krista Wolf
My stomach turned a little as his mouth curled into a wicked grin. I saw a flash of gold. His incisors, reflecting back the chamber’s dim light.
“Know what tipped me off?” asked Kyrkos. “Why I skipped our little rendezvous that night?”
“Couldn’t get it up?”
His smile faded a few millimeters. He caught it quickly though.
“You were too eager,” said Kyrkos. “A little too excited. Too quick to jump forward, when given the chance.”
“I could see that,” I admitted with a sneer. “After all, you’re probably used to dragging women into bed with you, kicking and screaming and…”
The pain in my head flared again, and I winced hard. I couldn’t help it. It was my first time standing in who-the-hell knew how long, and I was already growing dizzy.
“Looks like we’re both hurt,” said Kyrkos. He took in a deep breath and sighed. “Your father hurt me too. He hurt me very deeply when he—”
“FUCK YOU maniac!”
Kyrkos parried my outburst with several seconds of silence before going on. “As I was saying, he hurt me very deeply,” he continued, “when he ultimately chose to betray me.”
I wanted to rush him. For some reason he hadn’t bound me, hadn’t restrained me at all. There weren’t even any bodyguards in the room.
I could probably get my hands on him, I thought to myself. If I could ignore the pain for ten quick seconds, I could rip his fucking eyes out.
“My father wanted to leave Indigo,” I said. “He wanted to live his own life… and you wouldn’t let him.”
Kyrkos shrugged his thick shoulders. “He had secrets, your father. Too many to count.”
I watched as he marched confidently to one side of the room and grabbed a decanter off a nearby table. It was filled with an amber liquid. He poured two glasses and offered me one, but I only wrinkled my lip in disgust.
“Your father’s knowledge alone would’ve made the situation difficult,” said Kyrkos, “but there’s a chance I could’ve trusted him. I’d known Benjamin a long time. We’d been through a lot together.”
He walked back to his chair again and sank down, this time the right away. He leaned back a bit. Pushed up on the balls of his feet, while sipping his glass.
“I loved your father,” said Kyrkos “I gave him every opportunity to save himself.”
My eyes glassed over. I bit down hard on the sides of my tongue, to keep myself from crying.
“But if a man can’t save himself…” said Kyrkos. “What good is he?”
I flung myself at him. It happened instantaneously, before even I knew what was going on. Kyrkos reacted with surprising speed for a man his size. He would’ve stopped me, or sidestepped, but I had something else going for me as well.
He was leaning back in his chair.
“Andrea, I—”
I tackled him hard, slamming him backwards against the floor. I heard his head hit the flagstone. It made a very satisfying ‘thump’.
“Fuck you!” I screamed, reaching for him. “Fuck you and fuck you and fuck—”
His hands gripped my wrists, first one, then the other. When he had them both he gnashed his teeth together, leaned forward… and head-butted me as hard as he could.
HOLY. SHIT.
Pain — pain such as I never felt before — rocketed immediately through my brain. There was no stopping it. No setting it aside, either. All I could do was bow before it. Pay homage to it, as I dropped straight down, onto both my knees.
“UNGHHH!”
Before I could recover he kneed me, just under the chin. My teeth clacked, my head snapped back, and there was another violent explosion of pain… this time from somewhere within my mouth.
“I need this to be over!” shouted Kyrkos loudly. “This foolishness with you, and Alvarez, and your two other friends! This stupid, petty vendetta…”
Just as quickly as I’d fallen, he grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to my feet. I thought maybe he was going to strike me again, but this time he only pushed me away from him.
“Petty vendetta?” I repeated through a mouthful of blood. “Do you realize how many lives you’ve destroyed?”
“I’ve destroyed nothing,” the man snapped. “Most people are the architects of their own suffering. They choose their own path. Make their own choices. Just like your father.”
He winced as he applied pressure to his wounded arm. It was bleeding even more profusely now. Dripping all over the flagstones, making them slick and red.
“And who am I to change these people?” demanded Kyrkos loudly. “Should I pay the penance on their sins? Should I have allowed your father to just destroy me, simply because he was having second thoughts? A moment of weakness?”
Moment of weakness!?
I wanted to kill him. No, it was worse than that. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to—
“We’re going to sit here and wait,” he said, squeezing his arm. “Just you and me. Together. Alone.”
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything. The pain was just… just…
“We’re going to sit and wait for your boyfriends to come for you,” he said. “And when they do…”
Oh my God.
Suddenly I knew why we were sitting there, all alone. With no guards. No bodyguards.
“Because believe me, they will come for you,” Kyrkos continued, adding a sinister laugh. “They’re too stupid not to. The very men we’ve been hunting — the ones I’ve been holing up here, protecting myself against? They’re going to deliver themselves straight to my doorstep, straight to us…”
My skin shivered. I felt all the blood in my veins turn to ice.
“And in the end, it’ll be all because of you…”
Forty-Eight
HOLDEN
We took the front of the abbey easily, moving one by one, laying down double suppressive fire. Screening ourselves with smoke grenades, as we advanced into the abbey’s inner chambers.
It wasn’t enough to check our corners. We had to consider every target; every last shot had to be checked and double-checked, before it was ever taken.
And that’s because we couldn’t risk hitting her.
We couldn’t use the HE’s for the same reason. The 40mm high explosives might do more harm than good. No, it was going to be room by room, chamber by chamber. Mistakes weren’t allowed. We’d only get one chance.
Marcus and I were changing out the clips on our M4’s when two more men ran in from the outer parlor. Randall took them both in the chest with the Benelli. They practically flew backwards beneath the onslaught of the high-impact rounds, the combat shotgun barking loudly between each pump.
“Up,” said Marcus. “Top level.”
We passed a chapel, then hugged the stone pillars surrounding a central cloister. That part was too open. We’d cross it only if we needed to.
“Your six!”
I whirled and fired, all in a single movement, trusting implicitly in Randall’s judgment. The stream of fire caught another one of the dark-suited men mid-stride, sending him spinning one way, his weapon the other.
Marcus was on him in an instant, the barrel of his M4 probing the flesh beneath the man’s chin. He had his finger on the trigger…
“In or out?” I asked sharply.
Though the man’s head remained absolutely still, his frightened eyes kept darting between me and Marcus. He was wounded, but not badly.
“Hurry,” I warned. “My friend is low on patience.”
“Out.”
Marcus pulled the barrel back. The man got up, wheezing and bleeding, and bolted in the direction of the exit.
“Good choice,” I muttered after him.
We fled together up a stone staircase, carved into the mountain itself. It was older than time. Worn slick and smooth.
Randall pumped another smoke round into the next area, well before we poked our heads over the top. It ricocheted off the staircase wall and bounced left… where it was accompa
nied by a sharp cry and the sounds of a scramble.
Marcus leapt in with the Desert Eagle, and for a few moments everyone was deaf. The nickle demon was more of a hand-cannon than an actual pistol. By the time we’d kicked the smoke round back downstairs, two more of Kyrkos’s men lay crumpled in the upper landing.
“This way,” Randall indicated, nodding through a Gothic arch.
We leapfrogged our way through a long dormitory, covering each other nicely. Marcus’s moves came with smooth, practiced ease. He fit in like he’d been part of our original team, or—
“HOLD!”
Halfway down, three people came flying at us. Two wore non-tactical uniforms, one was a woman. All three were in-house staff. I motioned them quickly down the staircase, hands still on their heads.
Randall pressed forward, with Marcus just behind him.
“Stay tight.”
We passed through the refectory. Two long tables ran the left and right sides of the room, flanked on each side by a fixed bench. And beyond that…
“THERE!”
Another staircase came into view. We were nearly at the top.
Randall crept up slowly, shotgun racked. He reached the edge of the chamber, when suddenly…
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Three shots rang out, in rapid succession. I saw Marcus run. Not backward, but forward… directly at the man who was shooting at him.
CRACK!
He took another hit to the chest, glancing off the Kevlar surface of his tactical armor. I saw blood this time. The Ranger managed to get one hand on the shooter’s wrist, shoving the gun upward.
CRACK! CRACK!
His other hand wrapped around the man’s throat.
“Unnnggggffff!”
Marcus shoved, and the man fell backwards, striking the wall. He absorbed two more punches. The pistol fell from his hand…
“Step back!” I shouted. “Step back, I got him—”
“NO.”
Marcus leaned in with his body, crushing the man beneath his weight. I saw him fall flat against the floor. Heard the sickening crack of multiple ribs…
By the time his assailant regained any semblance of control, Marcus had a full mount position on him.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
The Ranger raised the Desert Eagle high overhead, threatening to bring it down on his face. The man only wheezed and gasped.
“TELL US WHERE SHE—”
“He can’t talk yet,” Randall said. “You knocked the wind out of him!”
Marcus slowly lowered the pistol, his whole body shaking with adrenaline. He grabbed the man by the neck again… then stopped.
“Riker...”
The Ranger’s shoulders slumped in what looked like disappointment, or exasperation. He let go of the man completely and stood up.
“You know him?”
Marcus nodded. “We worked together,” he swore angrily. “Back when I was still with Indigo.”
The man on the floor grinned up at us through blood-soaked teeth. He turned his head and spat.
“She’s not here,” he grunted, chest heaving. “They already left.” With a pained grimace, he shifted a little and turned toward Marcus. “Good to see you too, Alvarez.”
I stepped in quickly and knelt down hard on his chest. As the man gasped in horrific pain, I rolled my hand into his hair and pulled.
“I swear to God,” I growled, “If one of you hurts her, even a little—”
“Tell us where she is!” Randall interjected. “Hurry, we don’t have much time before—”
“Forget it.”
The two words came from Marcus. He was standing over the man, shaking his head. From what I could see, his left arm had been shot through.
“I know this asshole,” he said grimly. “He’s not going to tell us anything.”
I screwed my knee even harder into the man’s shattered ribs. He screamed.
“Wanna bet?”
I went again, and he screamed some more. But when I finally let up… that grin was back, even wider than before. And not only that, the psycho was even laughing.
“See?” said Marcus. “Trust me. You could pull him into five fucking pieces. He’d never betray Kyrkos, even if—”
“The marina.”
We all whirled to look at him. The man Marcus had called Riker was nodding, laughing.
“He took her to the marina.”
I let up. He looked up at me gratefully, but still in tremendous amounts of pain.
“The bigger moorings are to the south, just a few miles outside of town.” He coughed into his hand, and his fingers came back with flecks of blood. “He took her to the yacht. Berth six.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Marcus demanded.
“Because fuck Kyrkos,” Riker swore emphatically. He did it with such anger, such vehemence, it launched him into another coughing fit. Eventually he stopped, and his eyes shifted to Marcus. “Believe me, I’m just as through with this shit as you are.”
We looked at each other, all of us thinking the same thing.
A few miles…
“Here.”
A set of keys suddenly flew through the air. Marcus reached out and caught them. The effort alone sent Riker’s face twisting in pain.
“You’ll find two Jeeps around back,” he coughed, nodding to Marcus’s outstretched hand. “That’s for the black one.”
Marcus knelt. He did it swiftly, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Just go,” said Riker. “You don’t have a lot of time.”
We nodded, spinning away. Just before the Ranger stood up however, the man grabbed his arm.
“Oh, and Marcus?” He coughed again.
Marcus glared back expectantly.
“Don’t miss him this time.”
Forty-Nine
ANDREA
We left at the first sign that things weren’t going well. And I guessed that was after the shots, the screams, and the smoke rising up through the abbey’s lower floors.
He wouldn’t have been able to take me on my own. I wouldn’t have gone. But there two other men. Not the dark-suited bodyguards I’d seen before, but employees of Indigo who zip-tied my hands behind my back and ushered me down a back staircase, and out through a rear entrance.
I wanted to scream, but my throat was raw. Maybe yell as loudly as possible, but my mind was still too foggy. I had a concussion at best. Possibly even something worse.
They dragged me the last few stairs on my knees, then shoved me face-first into a car. I was held down by someone as the vehicle lurched forward with the screech of tires, and began the winding descent down the hillside.
I couldn’t see much of anything. The man with the mirrored sunglasses next to me looked very scared and nervous. The driver was arguing loudly about something with Kyrkos, but in Greek. I couldn’t make out much, but the few words I did know told me he was coming under protest. And that Kyrkos was threatening him with something terrible if he decided to leave.
Not being able to see was making me car sick. Between being already dizzy and all the twists and turns, I couldn’t even tell how long we’d been driving. Despair washed over me. My boys were back at the abbey, fighting to get to me, putting their lives on the line.
And I wouldn’t even be there for them.
Suddenly we rolled to a stop — way sooner than I’d anticipated. I expected them to drive forever. To be halfway across Sicily by the time the guys finished clearing whatever was left of Kyrkos’s men.
Then I was pulled into the sunlight… and when my eyes adjusted, I was staring at a yacht.
I started laughing right away.
“You think you’re going to just sail away with me?” I taunted Kyrkos. “Into the fucking sunrise?”
He looked absolutely furious. His arm was still bleeding profusely. That entire side of his body was covered in blood.
“Let me go,” I said, in low, even tones. “Leave me here right now, and I’ll tell t
hem not to chase you.”
The other two men sprinted up the ramp, and jumped on board. No one was untying the moorings. No one was prepping the yacht for departure.
And that’s because there was a helicopter resting at the back end of it.
Fuck.
Xander Kyrkos laughed, gruffly, as he saw the hope go out of my eyes. “Now do you get it?”
He grabbed me by my bound wrists and shoved me forward. When I dropped to my knees, he started dragging me. I would’ve screamed despite the pounding in my skull, but the dock was empty. It still early. There was no one around.
Eventually I was pulled on board. Dragged along what I knew to be the starboard side, to the wide open aft. The man in the mirrored sunglasses was nowhere to be found. Kyrkos began cursing and screaming, mightily.
“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” I sneered.
It felt good, tormenting him. But every time I did…
Kyrkos shoved me down to the deck with an angry roar, and my knees exploded in pain. I was already bleeding from being dragged. It didn’t much matter at this point.
“WATCH HER!”
The driver appeared again, nodding as he moved near me. Kyrkos scrambled up a nearby ladder, and disappeared quickly through a doorway.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said to the man immediately. I got up and scrambled backward until my ass was touching the rail. “You haven’t done anything wrong yet.”
I slid slowly along the back curve of the boat, feeling around for something sharp to cut my ties against. A minute went by. Two minutes. All I could feel was cold steel of the smooth, curved rail.
The driver was taking a slow step forward for every one of mine. He looked apprehensive now. Unsure of what to do.
“Untie me,” I offered, “and we can both get out of here. It’ll be like you never—”
Kyrkos re-appeared abruptly, shoving the man in the sunglasses forward. His sunglasses were gone, though. His lip was also split, and his mouth was dribbling blood.
“Get it ready,” he growled, pushing the man toward the helipad. “Do whatever you need to—”