“Is she okay?” Sin asked rushing into Hunter’s arms. “Are you okay?”
“She’s exhausted,” Hunter replied before kissing her. “We all are, but everyone is back in one piece.”
Noah stepped off the boat and Sin hugged him too. It was always a relief when the team made it back to the Nest. They were alive, they could recoup, and figure out their next step.
“They didn’t…” Honey trailed off as if uncertain how to finish that sentence.
“No,” Miguel said sharply. “She fended off one of the bastards herself and we took out the rest.”
Honey walked over, adjusting the blanket around Cassidy, causing the blond to shiver.
“What about Ivanov?” Honey’s gaze darkened as she walked over to Cap, leaning into his embrace.
“He’ll be deported,” Cap said, holding her close. “And not allowed back on U.S. soil.”
She clenched her jaw. “That’s not good enough. After what that sick, twisted, son of a…”
“I know.” Cap hugged her tighter.
Miguel wondered about the darkness he sometimes saw in Honey’s eyes. It was familiar. Her bright and sunny nature seemed to hide something darker within. He didn’t press. It wasn’t his place. He had his own darkness to worry about, but more importantly, he needed to take are of Cassidy.
“Hunter,” Miguel said. “I need you to take me to my mother’s.”
Miguel didn’t want to see his sister, but Cassidy needed a safe place to rest. As much as the barracks suited the men, it certainly wouldn’t suit Cassidy in the state she was in, especially not with Cantrell occupying a bed. Jax also stayed there full time and if it was just Miguel, he wouldn’t mind sharing, but Cassidy was vulnerable, even if she didn’t know it.
“I can move my things,” Jax said. “Grab a motel for me and Jason. No reason to be put out.”
“He stayed then?” Cap asked.
Jax nodded. “I checked when I got back from watching Miguel’s family.”
They had sent word that the threat had been neutralized which meant that Jax didn’t need to stand guard anymore.
Everyone was there now. The entire Crow’s Nest Crew, along with the women, who had become very much a part of their lives.
“A man is never put out going home.” Ida smiled warmly at Miguel but walked over and linked her arm through Jax’s. “But we’re going to talk about your eating habits, young man. Fast food is not a well-rounded diet.”
Jax groaned, but Miguel saw the smirk tug at the man’s lips. Ida had that way about her. She snuck in, past all their defenses, and slowly healed some of the wounds they didn’t even know they had.
“Come on,” Hunter said to Miguel. “Happy to oblige.”
Miguel nodded. Sin said her goodbyes to Noah and Honey before taking Hunter’s hand. They walked over to the SUV, and Hunter held the door open while Miguel got in the back with Cassidy, laying her out so her head was on his lap.
The blond woman barely stirred, her face a bit pale, but breathing steady. Awake or asleep, it made no difference. She looked pristinely beautiful to him. His Sirena, and he had no intentions of letting the sea, or anything else, take her away from him.
Hunter got behind the wheel, while Sin slipped into the passenger side. She clasped Hunter’s hand and stared out the window. There was no tension in the silence. Everyone was comfortable, Hunter especially—and it was nice to see that for his friend.
They had all come to the Crow’s Nest with their own dark history, but they knew how to work on boats, and they were good at helping people, especially when the law couldn’t.
Miguel didn’t think he’d ever be healed. Not the way Hunter had been by Sin. The darkness stirred in him, even now. If he could crack a joke and flash a smile, he would, but the truth was, that darkness had become a part of who he was. It wasn’t an enemy—it was a strength that helped Miguel move on and keep others safe. He wasn’t ashamed of that, and no matter how much his sister wished he were different, this was who Miguel was now.
When Sin had been kidnapped by her stalker, Miguel had been furious. He hadn’t known her that well at the time, but it didn’t matter. Hunter fell for her, and the men at the Crow’s Nest were more than colleagues and wounded soldiers. They were brothers in arms, even if they were battles outside of war. But even then, Miguel hadn’t felt the darkness in him pulsing as hard as it was now. He would steady himself once Cassidy was tucked safely into his old bed.
Then, he had a few final details to take care of.
Miguel’s mother immediately let him in, and he carried Cassidy to his old room, tucking her into the bed. Tomorrow, every muscle in her body would be sore from her ordeal. Tonight, her body was trying to catch up on the rest it needed—and not just from the hunt, but from the last several months of trying so hard to avenge her sister. Months of not being believed, of fighting for every inch she could gain. Cassidy needed a nice long vacation once the loose ends were tied up.
He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Sand drifted from his fingertips, floating onto her skin. The mission was still on him. The dirt, sweat, and blood of it clung to him. And it wasn’t over yet. Not for him. There were still things that needed to be done before Cassidy would be safe. With The Cleaner still out there, there was a constant threat looming over them.
His mother, still hovering, put a hand on his shoulder. “Miguel, mi amor, go. Shower. I will stay with her until you return.”
Anyone else, and Miguel would have argued against leaving Cassidy, but if there was anyone he knew would take care of the woman he loved, it was the woman who raised him.
Even knowing that, he reluctantly stood, wanting nothing more than to stay by Cassidy’s side until she woke. Now towering over his mother, he pulled her into his arms for an embrace of thanks and reassurance. More for her than for him. His family had been through hell and back because of him. It didn’t matter that his captivity had not been his choice. The end result had been hard for everyone who cared about him. Miguel harnessed the darkness, and he would not bring it into his childhood home. Not to his mother, and not even to his sister.
After a few long moments, he kissed his mother’s forehead and walked out of the room. Before he could take three steps toward the bathroom, Maricela appeared in the hallway, blocking his path. Miguel felt his gaze darken with anger. His little sister didn’t even flinch. She never had, even when he was at his worst. Of course, in those dark times his ire hadn’t been aimed at her.
“I screwed up,” she said.
“Ya think?” Sarcasm laced his words. He shook his head, trying to move past her. “I am too tired for this, Maricela.”
She grabbed his arm, and even though it was his sister, Miguel’s muscles went rigid in response to her touch. It took everything not to react, not to unleash the darkness that was lingering just below his chest. If Cassidy weren’t unconscious in the bedroom, Miguel would find a boat, and race it to see if he could beat the sun. But he was here for his Sirena.
And Maricela wasn’t helping.
Her dark brown eyes softened as the wet sheen of tears reflected in the dim hallway light. It should have softened him some, but it didn’t. The anger of her betrayal still swirled deep in him, and Miguel didn’t know if he’d truly be able to ever trust her again. Throughout this whole ordeal, that was probably the thing that hurt the worst.
When he’d come back his sister had been a strong rock for him. Like now, she had never wavered—had never been afraid of him. But then, she had been there for him. Now, he didn’t know what she was.
“I’m sorry, Miguel.” The words came out thick with emotion. “I thought I was protecting you, our whole family. I thought she was going to take you back down that dark path.”
“That’s where you were so very wrong, mi hermana,” he said in a low voice. “If you had bothered to look, to open your eyes just a little bit, you would have seen that Cassidy isn’t leading me down that dark path. She’s brin
gs me into the light.”
“Really? And what will you do now?” Maricela asked in a harsh tone. “Will you go after the diplomat?”
Her accent thickened with each word. Miguel had to admit, his sister understood him very well.
“I’m not dumb,” she continued. “I know he won’t go to prison. I know none of them will be held accountable by the justice system.”
“The American citizens will be,” Miguel said. “The information has already been leaked to the press. They won’t be able to escape justice.”
They had no idea how lucky they were. If they weren’t going to prison, Miguel would take each and every one of them out. He didn’t care about the repercussions—and he was good enough at his former job that making them disappear, wouldn’t be a problem. The Cleaner, on the other hand, had no idea what was coming or him.
“And the Russian?”
Not as lucky as the Americans. Miguel went to walk by his sister, deciding silence was the best answer to that question.
“Miguel!” She stepped in front of him. “You can’t.”
He slammed his fist into the wall next to her head. Maricela’s eyes widened, a sliver of fear slipping to them as she flinched.
“You don’t need to worry about what I do. You should worry about your own actions.” He dipped his head, so he was eye level to her and lowered his voice. “You betrayed me.”
His heart still ached with the pain of it. It was raw, unyielding, and how he would trust her again—Miguel just didn’t know.
A tear slipped down her cheek, and she shook her head. “No! I thought I was saving you.”
“By making a deal with the Russian?” The pain left, refilled with rage. “You almost got all of us killed. Cassidy twice over.”
“They just wanted her.”
“Do you know what they were going to fucking do to her? What they did to her? They were hunting her on an island, Maricela.” He scowled, not even knowing the woman in front of him anymore. “And that was only the beginning.”
When had she changed into someone so callous that she would give up an innocent woman—even if Maricela thought she was protecting him? It had been wrong.
“You are my brother.”
He punched the wall again when the rage surged. The plaster crumbled and dusted his hand white, leaving a gaping hole beside the other one.
“Miguel!” Momma stood at the open door to his room. “That is enough.”
He nodded, never taking his eyes off Maricela. “You’re right, Momma. It is.”
The pained look on his sister’s face didn’t stop him from walking around her. He’d fix the wall tomorrow. Right now, he needed to clean up and start his own hunt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two days later, after contacting Bridget Ellison, an old Marine pal, Miguel got a lead into The Cleaners location. Having Honey use satellite imaging and other crafty things he knew nothing about, Miguel took a boat from the Nest and headed to Cuba. It made sense that he would go there. The closest and easiest escape route. From there, The Cleaner could charter a boat anywhere. Miguel owed them both dinner. They’d probably both get along really well too.
Cassidy had wanted to come with him, but Miguel wouldn’t let her. He knew she needed some sort of justice for her sister, and Ivanov being deported damn sure wasn’t enough. One fucker at a time. Right now, The Cleaner was easy access. Unlike Ivanov, he didn’t have diplomatic immunity—so he would have gone to jail.
Even as Cassidy had stomped her foot and wrinkled her nose, the frustration reaching its peak, Miguel told her no. Then he kissed her, because she’d been absolutely adorable all flustered and red-faced. He promised to come back to her and when he did, they would get a new houseboat and stay out there without communication with anyone for at least a week.
Eventually she had given in, not because of the boathouse promise, but because she didn’t want to be a distraction. Cassidy knew full well what he was going to do—and she didn’t object. So long as he promised to come back to her.
Miguel docked his boat at an outdoor Cuban night club—not done as often as it had been in the 80s, but it didn’t take long for people to get to Cuba from Miami or Key West. Women danced and men smoked cigars as the music and lights pulsed around him. He politely grinned at a woman who asked to dance with him, telling her in Spanish that he would need a rain check.
Moving from the club, he walked through a few back alleyways before coming up to a desolate patio. The Cleaner sat on a stone bench, smoking a fresh Cuban cigar—the smell of it thick on the night breeze. Armed with guns, knives, and a few other make-shift weapons, Miguel watched him for several moments.
“I knew you would find me,” The Cleaner said. “Come. Enjoy a cigar.”
Not at all surprised, Miguel walked out of the shadows. He calmly strode toward the man who would not be leaving this island alive.
“Nah,” Miguel said. “Those things will kill you.”
The Cleaner smirked. “I thought after the first night I would be able to escape. But then, I knew you would come.”
“Then why wait two days? You could have left by now.” He stopped a few paces away, keeping an eye on The Cleaner’s posture. One hand held the cigar, the other lazily draped over the arm of the bench. It was as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Yes.” He took a drag off the cigar, holding the smoke for a breath before releasing it into the night. “But you would never stop searching. Not when you knew I could come back for…what do you call her? Sirena?”
Miguel’s gaze narrowed, his entire being filling with the darkness. “You’re right. I would never stop hunting you down.”
The Cleaner nodded.
“And if you dare utter her name again, I will cut your tongue from your mouth before this is over.” Every word was crisp, concise, and calm. There was no threat behind it—only a sharp promise of pain that Miguel would live up to.
His lip quirked, and he stubbed out the cigar on the bench. “Well then, I suppose we should just finish it, yes?”
Miguel nodded. “Yes.”
“No guns?”
“No guns.” He agreed. “Knives, and anything else, is fair game.”
“It will be an honor to battle with a worthy opponent such as yourself, Miguel Cortez.”
“Don’t lie,” Miguel said. “There’s no honor here, Sacha Kalashnik. Only an ending.”
He raised his brows then, clearly surprised that Miguel had been able to find out who he was. Kalashnik wasn’t officially on Ivanov’s payroll. That would make it too easy for him to be noticed. So would coming to America under his real name—which he hadn’t. Kalashnik’s work Visa had him as Michael Volkov. A corporate man who had been here for the past year, selling and trading companies as needed. Most days he didn’t need to be in the office, giving him a good cover, but Honey followed the paper and money trail.
“You have done very well.” Kalashnik stood up, taking off his white jacket to lay over the seat of the bench. “Ivanov should have had a man like you in his payroll as well.”
“Men like Ivanov should be dead,” Miguel sneered.
“Yes. But he is safe, and we are here.”
“One of us won’t be for long.”
Kalashnik rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top of his shirt as he walked toward the center of the court yard. Confidence exuded from each of his pores, but Miguel didn’t pay it any mind. He had confidence too, but he also had more than that—multiple reasons to make sure Sacha Kalashnik didn’t leave Cuba. Not only would Cassidy be in danger, but Miguel knew his entire family would be as well. The Crows would protect them, but what Kalashnik had said before was true. Miguel would not stop hunting until he was dead.
Besides, he made a promise to Cassidy that he’d come back to her.
Miguel would never break a promise to his Sirena.
Without warning, Sacha Kalashnik lashed out with a knife Miguel hadn’t seen. The blade barely grazed his arm, but it was sha
rp enough to draw blood. Miguel drew his own blade and the world around them faded until it was nothing but two men, striking, kicking, punching, and stabbing. If anyone witnessed it, they didn’t say anything. This wasn’t America. People didn’t record everything on their phones. In a place like this, it could cause a lot of trouble.
If anyone saw, no one would say anything.
At some point, Miguel took a knife to the belly. He was unsure as to how it happened, but when you’re in combat, that’s often how it goes. Everything is in your favor until it isn’t. Pain flourished through his abdomen as he stumbled back, warm blood soaking through his shirt, the blade still stuck in his skin.
Kalashnik had a feral grin on his dirty face—bruises already starting to form. He had his own variations of cuts and bloodied parts. But there was no stab wound.
Miguel’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t break his promise.
“Now,” Kalashnik said, pulling a fresh knife from the back of his pants. “We finish this.”
The floor of Hunter and Sins ranch-style home in Davie should have a hole in it from as much as Cassidy paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. She’d been biting her nails, but then she’d made them bleed, so opted to wring her hands instead. Miguel had been gone for two days. Two long days. He’d said he’d be back in one. Cassidy gave in to him going alone, but now, she had no idea why she’d done that.
Or why he wouldn’t take anyone else with him. When she’d asked, he said that this wasn’t a Crow’s task. This was personal. She understood, of course. And he’d been up front with his plan to kill The Cleaner. It didn’t bother Cassidy. As good-natured as she was, she had to admit to herself that she was ready to kill someone in cold blood. Vengeance for what justice couldn’t provide. Before Meredith, Cassidy never would have thought herself a vengeful person, never would have thought herself capable of the things she’d done.
But she had done them. Cassidy didn’t think it made her a bad person—human maybe. Not bad. After everything she’d seen, Cassidy knew there were a lot of gray areas when it came to people. Sometimes what people perceived as bad was just something that needed to be done outside the law.
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