My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

But he’d watch, just in case.

  * * *

  Remy glanced over as David stirred awake. Mya and Jenna crowded over David, asking if he was okay, feeling his forehead for a fever, and checking his pulse. Remy rolled his eyes at their mothering. The man was only knocked unconscious; he wasn’t sick. Even Greyson had gone back inside, most likely to settle any of the staff’s concerns.

  Waiting on the patio as the women fussed over David, Remy watched Ava’s window and tried to clear his head. But he knew it’d never fully clear, not with her trapped three floors above him. Not when he still had . . .

  He was the idiot.

  Remy laughed dryly as he pulled her gun from his waistband. He should just go ahead and lodge a bullet into his brain. The way he was going, she’d do it before long anyway.

  “Where is she?” David mumbled.

  “In her room,” Remy answered.

  David turned, retching over the side of the patio. “God, I forgot about her knockouts.”

  Remy cringed. Thankfully, he’d never had firsthand experience, but he had seen others who had. It was always the same.

  Mya handed David a glass of water. He took a sip, swished, and then spit it out.

  “Ava said you might need something for a headache,” Jenna said, holding out a pill bottle.

  “Thanks,” David said gruffly, taking the bottle. “I feel like road kill.”

  Remy kept silent and watched as David gripped his stomach, swallowing the pills.

  “Did she say anything?” David demanded after a shuddered breath.

  “Nothing important,” Remy answered.

  “Then why is she here?”

  “She said she wants help, but it’s just a lie.”

  “Help with what? Are there more people she’d like to assassinate? Are we next?”

  Mya squeaked. David looked over at his wife and winced. “Sorry, honey. Why don’t you and Jenna head inside? Remy and I need a few minutes.”

  “But—”

  “Please.”

  Mya sighed. “Only for a few minutes; not any longer than that.”

  After Mya and Jenna were out of earshot, David asked, “How long was I out?”

  Remy raised a brow.

  David nodded. “Twenty minutes. What happened in that time? When did you get here?”

  “I followed you here. I waited in Ava’s room when I realized she didn’t have her gun. I knew she’d come for it.”

  “You let her knock me out? I could’ve used your help.”

  “Can’t handle a girl?”

  David glared.

  Remy shrugged. “You should’ve told me she was here.”

  “I thought I’d be more levelheaded than you.”

  “And how is your level head now?” Remy questioned.

  David crossed his arms, his scowl deepening.

  “You were right, in any case,” Remy admitted. “I don’t know what to do. I thought a signed confession would settle the matter, but she refuses. You know her training. She won’t crack under pressure. Do we hand her over to the authorities?”

  David shook his head and then winced at the motion. “No. She’d be locked up already if there was any evidence against her. If we don’t have a confession then we’re back to where we started.”

  “None of the information from the file has been of any use,” Remy said. “The only way we’re going to find evidence is through Ava. I doubt she’ll help us.”

  “No, but she wanted help, right?” David asked, a smile growing. “Why don’t we help the poor girl out?”

  David was grinning in spite of his headache, but Remy felt as if a rogue wave slammed him on the rocks. Help her? After what she did?

  Dammit to hell!

  He hated the thought, but David was right. If they had any chance of catching Ava, it’d be by working with her. And if her plan was anything like what she’d carried out in Iraq, he knew they’d catch her at something. At this point, they had no other choice. But that meant getting close to Ava again, and that wasn’t an option. David would have to be the middleman.

  “Let’s go,” David said, heading to the door, a slight wobble in his step. “I want to get this over with.”

  Remy followed until they reached the patio door. David held it open for him, waiting for him to pass through.

  “Chicken,” Remy stated.

  David’s response was to push him through.

  “You’re going to have to take point on this,” Remy said as they walked up the stairs.

  “Now who’s the chicken?”

  “You were right before,” Remy admitted, hating the words. “You deal directly with Ava. I’ll back you up on whatever you decide.”

  As they rounded the second flight of steps, David said, “I don’t think we have to worry about that right now.”

  Ava’s door was open, hinges busted off. She, of course, was gone.

  “God dammit!” Remy cursed.

  * * *

  Ava was running out of time. She had to make Brock see reason, but he was still as stubborn as she remembered. If there was anyone else she could’ve asked, she would have. But it all centered on him.

  After escaping her room, she parked a mile away from the mansion, waiting for Brock to leave. She would follow him. Perhaps if he was tied and gagged, he might finally listen to her.

  She sat in her car, hidden behind an old billboard, and waited for an hour until two cars drove up the road. She spotted David’s black sports car immediately but wondered who was driving the tiny blue compact behind him. As they passed, Ava held back a laugh. It was Brock, crammed into the small contraption.

  Odd.

  The Brock she knew had an absurd love for Cadillacs.

  Ava waited a few moments before pulling out behind them, tailing Brock. If he suspected she was following, he never let on. After several miles, he parked in front of a warehouse and opened the locked gate.

  So this is where he’s been staying.

  Ava continued down the road and out of sight.

  She’d be back tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Remy scanned the road from the warehouse door. It had been two days since he saw Ava at the mansion. He purposely led her back to the warehouse so she would know how to find him. But there was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if she’d vanished. He didn’t know what to think about that. She wasn’t the type of person to back down. If she said she needed something, she wouldn’t stop at one altercation. So, where the hell was she?

  Remy shook off the feeling creeping up his neck. Was she in trouble? Or was she out there, waiting for him?

  Slamming the warehouse door closed, he stormed back inside. He felt like prey, waiting for Ava to strike, not knowing when or where. And he was on his own. David, not liking Mya having been so close to Ava, had left town with her in tow. He promised to return and help, but who knew when that would be.

  Rat had fled as soon as he heard what had happened. Said he wasn’t getting paid enough for hunting the likes of Ava.

  Remy didn’t care. He was better off on his own. He preferred it that way. Only, he was still in the dark, not knowing anything useful.

  Well, he was done waiting. There had to be someone who knew something. Studying the wall, he tried to find a spot to begin.

  All of his men were dead. So, who else would know anything? Who could he get to without raising a flag that he was alive?

  Remy snatched his keys. There was one person he could talk to without worry. An officer who recently stepped into early retirement. He might know something, and he lived only a couple of hours away. Remy trusted him.

  It was time Brock Remington made a reappearance.

  * * *

  Ava clenched her fists into tight knots. She had been so close to Brock, and now this pale-faced bastard sitting comfortably in front of her had yanked her back. She wanted to punch that placid expression right off of him.

  “Did you get what I asked for?” Jeremy French asked, his words as calm as his expr
ession.

  Ava looked around the motel room before answering. Every time she had to meet him it was at a shabby old motel. She knew why. If anyone was to see her, it would look as if she was meeting a lover.

  Please. If she was meeting a lover, it wouldn’t be in a fleabag motel with broken beds and dirty linens.

  “You didn’t give me enough time,” she finally said.

  He raised a blond brow. “You’re slipping, my dear. When I give you a deadline, I expect it met.”

  “You know damn well Brock trained me. He can easily avoid me when he wants to.”

  “Don’t you mean Remy?”

  Ava started. How did he find out? Did he already know where Remy was?

  A silky smile curled on his lips. “You seem to forget that I’m always watching. Did you have a pleasant stay at the Miller mansion?” His tone mocked.

  “I was waiting.”

  “And it seems you waited long enough. So, how was our old friend?”

  “Angry.”

  “Well, you are a traitor,” he said, sarcasm thickening his voice.

  Ava’s fists clenched tighter. Not even the sting of her fingernails gouging her skin did anything to relieve the resentment for the man sitting in front of her with his smug expression. With his pallid features and frigid blue eyes, he looked as if he could fade into the air had his athletic frame not defied it.

  But that’s what he was—a faded image of his former self. She remembered him clearly. Six years ago he had the same light complexion, which was hellish in the brutal foreign sun. The years had not been kind to him. Heck, they hadn’t been kind to any of them. He had grown cold and bitter. Through his serene façade simmered a man teetering on a cliff.

  “If you knew I was so close, why did you pull me back?” Ava questioned. “I could have ended this by now.”

  “I have another task for you.” His fingers pressed into a steeple in front of him.

  “What could be more important than this?”

  “A transfer will need to be made in three days. I need you there.”

  A transfer? That caught Ava’s attention. She uncurled her fingers, stretching them.

  “What kind of transfer?” she asked, keeping her voice cool and steady.

  “Here are the coordinates,” he said, flicking an unmarked envelope.

  She caught it and quickly opened it. Reading the contents, she swore. If these were correct, she’d be in the Atlantic, way outside of U.S. territory.

  “Do you have a team ready or do I just row out there?”

  “Sarcasm?” he questioned, but didn’t seem to give it much thought as he stood.

  Ava scowled. It would be so easy to knock him to the floor, to plunge a knife into him. She could do it within seconds. She had never killed anyone, but he was quickly becoming a large, provoking target.

  “Plotting my death?”

  Ava glanced up to find him staring at her, assessing.

  A smile slid onto her lips. “I wouldn’t need to plot something so simple.”

  Fury flashed across his face. It was immediately smoothed. “You know what would happen,” he warned.

  Ava swallowed hard. “Do I have a team?” she repeated, drawing the conversation back to neutral territory.

  This time, he smiled, lighting his eyes with something that unnerved Ava.

  “Yes, and I think you’ll enjoy it. You’ll have plenty of time to reminisce with your old pal.”

  “Who?” Ava questioned, nervously watching the satisfaction grow on his face.

  “Brock, of course.”

  Ava crossed her arms. “Why him? You know what he thinks of me. He already said he wouldn’t help.”

  “Then you’ll have to twist his arm.”

  “Why Brock?”

  He shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.”

  Realization dawned. “You want me to kill him after the transfer. I won’t do it!” She could never. What had happened to French that would make him turn on Brock?

  “No. He is the transfer.”

  * * *

  “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” retired officer Jared Boyer said, eyeing Remy from behind his screen door.

  How could Boyer expect to see him when Brock was dead? Remy stood silent. He wouldn’t say anything until Boyer explained.

  “Still the quiet, stoic one?” Boyer laughed and swung the door wide open, motioning for Remy to enter.

  Remy stood his ground. “How did you know?”

  “I believe you asked me that same question nearly a decade ago after the rocket launcher incident. I’ll tell you the same thing as I had then. I know everything.”

  Remy stared, flummoxed. How could he possibly know? And the rocket launcher incident was an accident.

  Boyer laughed again. It was deep and rich. Soulful. It was as if nothing had changed. “Come on in,” Boyer said. “Miller arrived an hour ago.”

  David?

  Dammit to hell!

  Remy pushed through the door as Boyer stepped back, his brown eyes filled with laughter. Remy saw the same humor in David’s eyes and swore.

  “Why are you here?” Remy demanded.

  “I guess for the same reason you’re here.”

  “I thought you were with Mya.”

  “I was. Now I’m not.” David’s impish smile had Remy clenching his jaw. “She’s tucked away at my mom’s house.”

  Remy grunted.

  David grinned. “Boyer was on the way home, so I thought I’d stop by for a quick chat.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Boyer scoffed, making his way into the living room. It reminded Remy of a hunting lodge, complete with mounted trophies of various sizes. A stuffed squirrel in the corner was looking at him funny. “He’s been drilling me with questions for the past hour. I haven’t been interrogated this hard since my old sergeant caught me pilfering from the mess hall.” He clapped Remy on the shoulder. “It’s damn good to see you. And Miller. Damn shame about the whole incident. Damn shame.”

  Remy gave a quick nod, not able to look into Boyer’s eyes. He couldn’t. The jagged guilt whenever he was around Boyer rushed back. Boyer never said much about his son Tom who had died on Remy’s watch several years before the raid. He didn’t have to. Remy felt the silence more than any words could convey.

  But Remy wasn’t here to rehash the past. Still, it was good to see Boyer, despite their turbulent history. He had always been the solid bridge over rapids and had helped a young and brash Brock out of several scrapes. It felt good to be in his presence again.

  “Have a seat,” Boyer said. “Let’s see if we can’t sort this out.”

  “What has David told you so far?” Remy asked, sitting on a worn red-plaid armchair.

  “Not much,” David answered. “I told him about Ava and asked about the file. He knows exactly what we know.”

  “Which is nothing,” Remy sighed, running his hand over his head.

  “I was surprised to hear about Ava,” Boyer admitted. “She had been questioned after the attack, but no one ever thought she might be behind it. She looked pretty shell shocked.”

  “She had everyone fooled,” Remy said.

  “Especially you, it seems,” Boyer said, keeping his voice light, but Remy could see the questions in his eyes.

  “Why is she looking for me?” Remy asked.

  Boyer shrugged. “To rekindle an old flame?”

  Remy shook his head. “I’m more apt to believe she’d rather snuff the flame. But she asked for help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “I don’t know. I went to go check on David, but she escaped before I returned.”

  “Escaped, huh?”

  “Tore the hinges right off the frame,” David said.

  Boyer’s lips twitched. “Never one to stay put. But what’s this about checking on David?”

  “Ava got to him first,” Remy answered.

  David frowned. “I only held back because there were women present.”

  “Like A
va?” Boyer asked.

  “No. Like my wife, who happens to be pregnant.”

  Boyer smiled, though his eyes were dimmed. “Congrats, my friend.” He stood to walk to the kitchen nook, where he cracked open an olive-green refrigerator. After pulling out three bottles of beer, he returned with his haul and popped off the caps using the marred coffee table.

  Remy took the cold bottle offered to him and sipped the watered-down piss that Jared confused with beer. Ignoring the skunky aftertaste, Remy took another swallow and placed the foul beer on the coffee table where Boyer’s large booted feet now rested.

  “When’s the baby due?” Boyer asked, his beer half gone in one gulp.

  “I want to say four months,” David said, his brows pinched together.

  “You don’t know?” Boyer questioned.

  David sighed. “I’m going to screw this poor baby up. I’ve already warned Mya.”

  Boyer chuckled.

  “If it’s your offspring, the kid didn’t have a chance either way,” Remy said. “Have you thought about the security director job? At least if you were out of the house working the kid might have a chance.”

  “I will kick your ass,” David warned.

  Remy motioned for him to come and try.

  “What’s this about a security director gig?” Boyer asked.

  “I’m going to give my notice at my job,” Remy explained. “With Ava on the move, I’m running out of leave.”

  Boyer scratched his stubbly wide jaw. “I’d be interested, but even in retirement I seem to have my hands full.”

  David kicked his feet on top of the table, mirroring Boyer. “I’m quite content with my unemployed status.”

  Boyer’s mouth broadened into a wide smile. “Yeah, we already know you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

  Remy cleared his throat, shifting in his chair to lean forward. “Can we get back to Ava? I have to find out what she’s up to and where she is. For her to ask for my help, she’s either stupid or desperate. We know she’s not stupid. So, what has her so desperate that she’d seek me out?”