by Sky Winters
Thorne narrowed his eyes and balled his hands into tight fists.
"Personally, I don't give a fuck who you are and what you have to say. As far as I can tell, you're just some asshole shifter standing between me and getting the job done."
The man only chuckled.
"Exactly what I was expecting to hear," he said. "Thorne Lewis – one of the best mercs in the business, doesn't give a damn about anything but getting the job done. Anything for money."
Thorne was getting more impatient by the moment. He knew that each second that passed was another step the target took toward getting home and out of his reach.
"You here to bore me to death or what?" demanded Thorne. "Because if you're just gonna talk your fucking head off then I'm gonna get the hell out of here and do my goddamn job."
The man held up his hand.
"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Lewis. You see, you and I have the same assignment. That girl, this Ms. Wilson, you're not the only merc who's after her."
"What?" shot out Thorne. "What the hell are you talking about? Actually, you know what? I don't give a shit."
The man shook his head as if disappointed.
"You know," he said, "one day, you might find that your policy of only caring about getting paid wasn't the wisest call to make. You just might find yourself in the middle of situations you don't understand."
The man's smirk then turned into an even more sinister smile.
"And that day could very well be today."
With that, the man darted from his position with lightning speed, cutting the distance between him and Thorne.
Goddamn, he's fast, thought Thorne, struggling to keep tabs on where the man was going. I need to m-urk!
The thud of a fist into Thorne's gut cut him off mid-thought. The impact felt to Thorne like a small semi-truck driving right into his breadbasket at full speed. He staggered backward, struggling to catch the air that'd been blown out of his lungs by the punch. Then, another blow landed, this time on Thorne's upper back. The force dropped Thorne to his hands and knees, and he struggled to regain his bearings. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sleek, polished shoes of the man as he moved through the grass just to Thorne's right. Thorne was being circled slowly by a predator who was prepared to move in for the kill.
"You know," said the shifter, "when I learned that the great Thorne Lewis was going to be my adversary on this mission, I was a bit worried for a moment. I thought that I might have a little bit of trouble on my hands. After all, you're one of the most ruthless men in the game. How disappointed I am to see you on your hands and knees like this, struggling for breath."
Keep talking, asshole, thought Thorne.
"Oh well," the man continued. "So much the better for me. Farewell, Mr. Lewis."
With that, the man raised his fist in the air, preparing to bring it down hard on the back of Thorne's neck.
But he wasn't quick enough.
As the fist came down, Thorne moved, with expert fluidity, out of the way, the fist crashing down onto the ground so hard that vibrations rippled through the earth. Thorne saw a shocked expression appear on the man's face, his green eyes now wide with surprise.
"Farewell, asshole," said Thorne.
He then rushed in, pulled his fist back, and slammed it into the man's face as hard as he could. Thorne felt the crunch of bone and the tearing of skin under his knuckles, and he knew that his punch had done the job. The man flew backward, landing in a heap among the grass. Approaching him slowly, Thorne saw that man was now sprawled helplessly on the ground, his face a mess of blood.
Thorne knew better than to gloat in the way his opponent did. Without a moment's hesitation, Thorne reached down, grabbed the shifter's neck, and gave it a quick twist. Just like that, the man was dead. Within seconds, the man's body began to crumble into dust, leaving behind skeletal remains. If Thorne had any doubts that this man was a dragon shifter, they'd just been dispelled.
Once he'd confirmed that the enemy was down, he flipped back on his comms and started off in the direction of Adelaide.
"Boss! Boss!" shouted Corvo. "You there?"
"You know I'm here," Thorne said. "You've got all my vitals right in front of you."
"You went out for a few minutes," said Jace. "You cool?"
As Thorne ran, waves of pain ran through his body from where the shifter had struck him. He knew that it wasn't anything to be concerned about, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.
"Just had to kill some lone-wolf merc, but other than that, yeah, I'm cool."
"We're showing that it's just you out there," said Aurelius.
Thorne thought he might've just been imagining things, but he could've sworn that there was an edge of frustration to Aurelius' voice. But he quickly put the idea out of his head.
"Just me and the target," he said. "Assuming she hasn't gone into hiding."
"Nope," said Corvo. "We got her on the feed right now. She's hoofing it back to her apartment, but she's not there yet."
"Good," said Thorne, still hurrying in the direction that he last saw her. "I'll have her in a minute."
Thorne's mind raced with what had just happened. Seeing some other merc here meant that this op wasn't just some personal project of the Abruzzi – it was something much more than that. And whoever this girl was, she was someone important.
And the way she smelled the dragon scent in the air, thought Thorne. What the hell does that mean? Humans can't detect us like that.
He cleared his mind as best he could. All his attention now had to be on extracting the target without drawing attention to himself. He hurried through the alley leading to the street where Adelaide lived, turning the corner and catching a glance of her.
Gotcha, he thought, running silently as he cut the distance between him and her.
Soon, he was only a few dozen feet behind her. Just as before, she stopped and sniffed the air. Then, she turned around on her heels, a can of mace in her hand and raised toward Thorne.
"Stop!" she shouted. "You take another step and…and…I'll fucking mace you!"
Then she realized just who she was facing down, and her expression crinkled in surprise.
"It's you!" she said. "Thorne! From the bar!"
"That's right," said Thorne before rushing with blinding speed to Adelaide. "And you're coming with me."
He placed his hand over her mouth and rendered her unconscious within moments. The target secured, Thorne hurried toward his ride.
CHAPTER 4
Everything passed for Adelaide in a blur. She slipped in and out of consciousness, only faint glimpses of whatever else was around her sticking in her mind. Eventually, she came to in a strange room. Looking around the place, she saw that it was a well-appointed bedroom decorated with upscale, modern furniture. The window looked out onto a wide stretch of lawn. Even the bed was surprisingly soft.
There was only one problem: she was tied down to the posts.
Adelaide opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out but a muffled cry. Not only was she tied down, she'd been gagged. Fear gripped her, and she frantically tried to piece together the last events she remembered in order to figure out just what the hell was going on.
OK, she thought, attempting to calm herself. I remember the bar. I remember the girls getting way too drunk. I remember that gross asshole trying to hit on me. I remember…
The realization hit her hard.
Thorne.
The next hour of memories came back in pieces. She remembered walking toward her home, feeling like she was being followed. Adelaide recalled, with clarity, that strange smell, metal and flowers. The rest of the walk home was spotty, but she did remember the last thing she saw before she was knocked out: Thorne.
She struggled against her restraints, every instinct in her body telling her that she was in major danger, that she needed to do everything she could to get the hell out of this place where she was being held and get to the nearest police station.
But whoever had tied her down did a hell of a job at it; she realized quickly that there was no way she'd be able to get herself free.
After a time, a heavy thud sounded from the door, and the knob twisted. The door opened slowly, and Adelaide watched with frightened eyes just who was about to enter.
Sure enough, it was Thorne. She struggled again against her restraints as Thorne entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her with a mildly annoyed expression, as though he were watching a kid throw a fit after not getting her way.
"Now," he said, his eyes fixed on her. "I can take that gag off your mouth but let me make something clear: we're in a massive house on an even bigger lot, miles away from anyone else. You can scream all you want, but it's not going to do any good. It'll just wear out your throat and annoy the shit out of me in the process. So, if I take that off, you're gonna have to promise me that you're not gonna shriek in my fucking ear when I do it. Got it?"
Her eyes wet with tears, Adelaide nodded slowly.
Thorne then approached her, reached down, and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
Without any control on her part, Adelaide let out a scream of terror.
"Fuck!" shouted Thorne. "What the hell did I just say?"
But before Thorne could put the gag back on, Adelaide calmed herself and stopped screaming. Her chest rose and fell as she took breath after breath, and her eyes were fixed on Thorne. He stood still for a moment, as if making sure she wasn't going to make another noise.
"There," he said, nodding slowly. "Much better."
"Who the fuck are you?" demanded Adelaide. "And why am I here?"
She feared the worst, that she was being kidnapped by some psycho murderer who wanted to kill her and cut her into little pieces – after raping her, of course. But the more her mind raced with horrible possibilities, the more she felt that Thorne didn't mean her any harm. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't sense danger from him.
"You're here because I was paid to bring you here," said Thorne. "And that's all you need to know."
"All I need to know?" asked Adelaide. "You kidnap me and tie me up, and then you tell me that I don't need to know anything?"
"That's pretty much what I just said, isn't it?"
Adelaide scowled.
"Let me go. Now."
"Not gonna happen," said Thorne, crossing his arms over his chest. "My clients want you, and they're paying a huge fucking payout for me to bring you to them. So, that's what I'm going to do."
"What? What clients? Where?"
"New York," said Thorne. "Once things cool down here, that's where we're going."
Silence hung in the air as Adelaide attempted to process everything that was happening.
"Now," said Thorne. "I'm sure you want to get out of those restraints, but I'm not going to do it unless you promise to cooperate."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that you don't try any bullshit," said Thorne.
"Like escape?"
"Escape's not what I'm worried about," he said. "Like I said, we're out in the middle of nowhere, and I've got this place locked up like a fortress. Even if you did manage to sneak out, even if you did manage to get past the fence, you'd be stuck in the middle of miles of bayou. No way you'd manage to find your way to the nearest town.
"No," he continued, "what I'm talking about is you trying to sneak up on me with a knife or a frying pan or some shit. You seem like the type, so let me just say, it wouldn't work out well for you, and hope that's enough."
Attacking Thorne and getting the hell out of here was on Adelaide's mind, but she could sense that he wasn't screwing around. He was about twice her size, after all, and an overpowering muscle-bound man like him wasn't someone it looked like she'd have an easy time with.
"Now," said Thorne. "You ready to play nice, kiddo? Because one fuck-up and you're going right back in those restraints. Got it?"
Adelaide realized that she didn't have another option. She sighed then nodded. Thorne reached down and undid the restraints one by one, Adelaide rubbing the raw skin as soon it was exposed. Once all the restraints were undone, she scrambled to a sitting position at the headboard, tucking herself into a tight ball. Thorne still standing over her, Adelaide shivered with fear.
"Come on now," he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"How the hell do I know that?"
"Because I would've done it already. My job is to bring you to New York without a scratch on you, and I'm not about to fuck up my payday."
"Then you're, what, some kind of escort?"
"In this particular case I am," he said. "But I'm a mercenary. Clients pay me to do whatever they need. In this case, I'm something like a bodyguard, I guess."
He thought about it for a moment.
"And that's truer than you know; I had to fight off some other asshole when I snatched you up. And he didn't seem like the type who'd treat you all that nicely."
"What?" asked Adelaide. "Someone else?"
"We can talk about it in a minute," he said. "But let's get the fuck out of this bedroom. Too cramped for my tastes."
He extended his hand toward Adelaide and, with a moment of hesitation, she took it. Thorne effortlessly pulled her off the bed, and she took a moment to steady herself on her feet. Thorne had already left the bedroom by the time she finally felt right enough to walk, and she scrambled after him with all the grace of a newborn deer.
Stepping out into the hallway, Adelaide gasped. The house was one of those old mansions that dotted the Louisiana landscape, and a quick scan of the place gave her the impression that it was easily a hundred years old, if not older. The main entryway was a grand hall, a massive chandelier hanging from the rotunda ceiling. The décor was a strange mixture of modern and old, with oil-paintings of aristocrats hanging above modern furniture.
"This place is…pretty amazing," said Adelaide, following Thorne down the stately spiral staircase in the middle of the entrance hall.
"Sure is," said Thorne. "And it's just one of the many homes my clients own. Told me they hadn't used it in years, so I might as well put it to good use if I'm gonna be in the area."
Adelaide followed Thorne through the hallway, then through the elegant living room, finally ending up in a large kitchen full of modern, stainless steel appliances. The space was filled with natural light, and the large bay windows looked out over the massive, emerald grass of the backyard. Adelaide spotted a huge, rectangular pool in the back, the water as blue as sapphires.
"Just…who are these clients?" asked Adelaide. "And what do they want with me?"
"I told you, I get paid to do what my clients ask. And part of the reason why I get paid so much is that I don't ask questions that I don't need to know the answers to."
"So…" said Adelaide, worry creeping into her voice, "how do I know that these clients aren't going to, um…"
She didn't want to finish the sentence; it was too much for her to even say out loud.
"What, are you thinking that they're doing some kind of ‘hunting humans for sport' thing?"
A small smirk formed on Thorne's face.
"I don't know!" shouted Adelaide. "And this isn't funny! I've just been kidnapped by some asshole and now you're cracking jokes?"
"Chill out," said Thorne, placing a pair of white ceramic mugs under the spouts of a very fancy-looking coffee maker and pressing start. "We're gonna be spending at least the day with one another, and I don't feel like dealing with you freaking out."
"I think I have a right to be a little bit freaked out," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I have no idea what's going to happen to me."
"Well," said Thorne, crossing his arms as the coffee maker whirred to life, "I can tell you that this family ain't the type to go in for sadistic shit like that. Or if they were, they wouldn't go to all the trouble of paying some merc team big bucks to haul some college co-ed in all the way from fuckin' New Orleans."
The c
offee maker finished, and Thorne placed a steaming cup in front of Adelaide.
"Wait, merc team?" she said, looking around. "There's more than one of you?"
"Yup," he said. "They're back in New York. You'll meet them before too long."
He then turned his attention to the coffee.
"Drink that," he said. "You're probably woozy after what I did to you?"
"What you did to me?"
"I put you to sleep," he said. "You were out for twelve hours."
"How did you do that?" asked Adelaide. "Chloroform or something?"
Thorne looked away for a brief moment.
"Just, ah, a trick of the trade."
Adelaide could tell right then that there was something that Thorne wasn't telling her. But she got the distinct impression that trying to get answers out of him would be like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. A totally pointless exercise.
And as much as she hated herself for thinking it, she couldn't take her eyes off Thorne. Her gaze was locked onto the ropy muscles of his forearms as he crossed them under his beefy chest. He wore a rugged denim button up, the sleeves rolled up, and the buttons undone just enough for her to have something to feast on with her eyes. She couldn't believe she was thinking such things in the midst of being kidnapped, but she couldn't help it –Thorne was about the hottest man she'd ever laid eyes on.
"Then what's next?" she said. "We go to New York and you just drop me off with my new…owners?"
"More or less," said Thorne. "I need to check in with the client; they're gonna want to get a good look at you. Then they'll let me know what the next move is. Hopefully, we can take off in the morning."
"How are we getting back? Plane?"
"Nope," said Thorne. "Too much heat at airports. And I don't trust you to not make a scene and get us both in some serious fucking trouble. We're gonna drive."
"Great," said Adelaide. "Twenty hours in a car with my kidnapper."
But as much as she hated to admit it, the thought thrilled her a little bit. Before she could give the matter too much consideration, however, a chime sounded through the house.