“Do you know who Venom is?” French asked.
“You have Venom cargo on deck,” Remy stated, eyeing French. Ava was right; he had changed. French was no longer the scrawny beanpole Remy remembered. He was now a man who had blood on his hands and vengeance in his eyes. And who owned a ship of stolen weapons. “You’re Venom.”
French’s gaze turned from flippant to curious. He smiled. “If I was Venom, I certainly wouldn’t want you on board.”
“Why not?”
French smirked, ignoring the question. He crossed over to the window and looked out. “We have a common enemy, and it seems you’re the only one who can find him.”
“You’re my only enemy, and you’re standing right in front of me.”
French shrugged. “Maybe I am. But have you ever wondered why you were the only one taken all those years ago? There’s something about you. Something you did set off a chain reaction.”
“What’s it to you, anyway?” Remy asked, wanting to know French’s motivation. Ava thought it might be personal; Remy wasn’t so sure.
“I’m trying to find out what’s so special about you.” His fingers trailed the desk, then moved over to an old-fashioned globe. He flicked it, sending it into a sluggish spin. “I’ve tried for years to track down Venom, but it seems you have the key.”
“I have nothing.”
French laughed, the sound grating against Remy’s ears. “You have the answer whether you know it or not.” His laughed died. “I won’t stop searching for him. And you will help, otherwise I have no use for you or Ava. Do I make myself clear?”
“Ava’s no longer under your control, and I already have no use for you,” Remy growled, furious by French’s threat. “Whatever you think you can get from me, I won’t give. Whatever threats you make, I will double. Whatever secrets I keep will follow me to the grave.”
Remy had no intention of helping French, no matter what he threatened. For right now, Ava was safe with the Coast Guard. She was out of French’s hands. It gave him time . . . until Ava came for Remy like she’d promised. Remy cursed himself a hundred different ways.
“I was hoping you’d be more reasonable, but time has not rid you of your stubbornness.”
“I see you for what you are, French. What I don’t know is why you turned from a young man with potential to . . . this.” Remy couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice, not that he tried very hard. The man who stood in front of him was a stranger. Remy didn’t like this stranger; he didn’t trust him.
But he knew he was going about this all wrong. He was so used to standing toe-to-toe with men of rank that a different approach was needed with French. Had Remy been on land, this conversation would have been over. He had no patience to follow the whims of another, especially one like French. “I had always liked you, you know?” The words were honest but also an experiment. They felt like ash on his tongue.
“No one liked me,” French snapped. “But we aren’t here to talk about the past.”
“I thought we were. You said I started something. What was it? The only thing I did was help a scared young soldier through war.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know you changed. How can a man start out searching for a traitor only to become that traitor himself, buying stolen goods? What is it about Venom that has the power to change people? Is it the money, or do you enjoy watching innocents get cut down with Venom weapons?”
French’s jaw clenched tight, his knuckles white from his tight fists. “I would think first about how you speak to me. I’m no longer the team mascot. I have an army of my own; one that isn’t swayed by our dear government.”
“This is no army. It’s a ship of greedy men whose only allegiance is to their cut. Do you have enough to keep them from turning on you?”
Remy blocked as French swung at him. Remy smiled, knowing he’d hit a nerve. So, French wasn’t as confident as he appeared. Good.
“What is it, French? Do you already feel the control slipping?”
“Take him away,” French snarled.
The guards jostled Remy from the room and down to his cell. Remy didn’t make it easy for them. While he didn’t fight, he made them work for it by dragging his feet, making the guards have to get up close, their hands wrapped around his arms. As they pushed him into his cell, Remy pilfered a radio from a guard’s waistband. They slammed the door shut, snuffing the light and sending him into darkness.
Remy had pissed off French and obtained a radio. He’d consider that a win. Now he had to figure out what Jeremy French was up to and send a message to Ava.
Remy would deal with French alone.
* * *
Remy turned off the radio and shoved it under his thin mattress as soon as he heard footsteps outside of his door. He thought it might be morning, but it was impossible to tell without a window. If French thought leaving Remy in the dark was a form of torture, then he was sadly mistaken.
The door opened. Three new guards stepped in, surrounding Remy, who was lounged on the bed, ankles crossed as if relaxing. He was anything but relaxed. The radio chatter had proved useless. It gave him nothing he could use against French. He had even tried several different channels, but it seemed as if they only used the one.
“Come with us.”
Remy stood and followed the same path as before to French’s office. It was going to be the same bullshit drill as the previous day. Remy blinked as they walked past French’s door. Where were they going? He followed, more aware of his surroundings than mere seconds before.
Something felt different; even the guards seemed more on edge. Whatever had happened in the hours he was locked up had spooked the crew.
“You’ve attracted attention,” French said when Remy stepped into a communications room.
The long room was filled with crew at their work stations, all watching monitors. The same image blanketed every screen.
Ava.
Chapter 11
Static blurred and shifted the screen, but it didn’t matter. Remy could clearly see that Ava was being held against her will. She sat on a chair in a bare, dimly lit room. A bruise darkened her cheek.
The picture of Ava disappeared, cutting to a man cloaked by shadows.
“We have Ava Hunt,” a digitized voice said. “You have forty-eight hours to get us Venom or she will die.”
The screens shifted, and Ava was gone.
Remy turned his attention to French. He didn’t care how degenerate the man was, Remy was going to find Ava. If that meant helping French, then he would do it. But could he find her or Venom within forty-eight hours? It seemed like an impossible task.
“How far away from land are we?” Remy asked.
“About five days to the east,” French answered.
Remy felt his throat close. “We don’t have days!”
“Or, we could take the jet. We could be in Turkey in a few hours.”
“Why Turkey?” Remy stared hard at French.
French smiled. It was a smile that Remy didn’t trust, one that showed he knew he had the upper hand and wasn’t afraid to exploit it.
“Why are you willing to help?” Remy asked. “You didn’t even want Ava aboard.”
“I told you already. You have something that I want.”
“And I told you that I have nothing.”
“Are you sure about that?” he questioned. “Come to my office. I’ll tell you what I know. Maybe we can work out an arrangement. You help me, I help you.”
“I’m not interested in helping you. Only Ava.”
French shrugged. “For now, it’s the same path.” He walked out to the corridor, heading to his office. Remy followed, knowing he didn’t have a choice. Until he was off this floating hunk of metal, French ruled. Once he was on land . . . well¸ French had better run.
* * *
Ava sat tied to a chair, groggy from tranquilizers, and wondered how she was going to save Remy’s ass when her own was on the line. She wanted to know
who the video message was sent to. And why kidnap her? Who’d care enough to want to save her? Not even the CID would be able to meet demands, especially not in forty-eight hours.
She was as good as dead.
Ava wasn’t too sure who her captors were or even where she was. They wore none of the same markings as terrorist groups she knew about. They spoke a language she didn’t understand or could even peg. And since they wore masks, she could only judge by their eyes that they were of Middle Eastern descent. And even that could be wrong.
One thing was obvious: Venom had made some powerful enemies, including her.
She wasn’t going to sit idly by. If they wanted Venom, she would get Venom. She’d be damned if she was going to sit here, twiddling her numbing thumbs.
“Hey,” Ava called to the towering masked guard. “Bring me to the leader of this dump.”
* * *
Remy sat across from French. “Well?” he asked. If French lounged there with his smug expression for a second more, it would take an army to keep Remy from jumping over the wide desk to strangle him.
“How much did Ava tell you?”
“She told me she doesn’t trust you.”
French nodded. He reached down to a drawer and pulled out a glass bottle filled with an amber liquid. “Want a drink?”
Remy shook his head. Was French stalling?
Unscrewing the cap, he put it to his lips and took a long swig. “Did she tell you anything else?”
“You’re not concerned that she doesn’t trust you?”
“She was getting too close. I had to shut her out.”
“Too close to what?”
“Venom.”
“I thought that’s who you were looking for. Why stop her if she was close?” Remy questioned, but he knew he would have done the same thing. He was overly protective when it came to Ava. That instinct was still present.
“Venom is deadly,” French answered. “But then you should know that, shouldn’t you?”
Of course Remy knew that, but French made it sound as if Remy knew Venom firsthand. “Spit it out, French. I don’t have time for games. You know more about Venom than I do. You have a boat loaded with their cargo. Or is it yours and you’re just fucking with me? Are you Venom?”
French smirked, humor lighting his eyes, but then he shook his head. “I’ve been able to intercept a few exchanges.”
“Is that how you got this ship, how you’re funding it?”
French stared at Remy as if wanting to say something but then thought better of it.
“At least tell me who has Ava,” Remy said.
“It could be almost anyone. Venom has made enemies everywhere.”
“Then tell me what you know about Venom. No bullshit this time.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” French asked. “You might need it.”
The only thing Remy needed was a gun.
* * *
Ava sat patiently on the metal chair. It wasn’t as if she could go too far anyway. They had tied her wrists so tightly her fingers were numb.
She watched the door, waiting for it to open. After she had ordered the oaf to take her to the leader, he left, locking the door behind him. That had been at least an hour ago, and she hadn’t heard anything since. Clearly, no one wanted to talk to her. They were just using her for leverage.
She refused to be used, especially in such a pathetic role.
Ava worked at the ties on her wrist, thinking back to everything that had happened. She wondered where Remy was and who had taken him. If she ever saw French again, she’d make him suffer. He knowingly sent them. He knew what was going to happen.
But it wasn’t completely his fault. Ava could’ve put a stop to it if she hadn’t been so eager to learn more . . . to maybe even see Remy again.
She sighed. What was it about him? Why was he at the center of things?
She wanted to cry, or better yet, kick something. She felt useless not knowing even basic information. Not even knowing where she was or who her captors were. How could she help Remy if she couldn’t even help herself?
Ava turned her frustrations to the knot, digging in with her nails as her fingers strained in awkward positions. The knot slipped slightly. It was just enough to give her the extra grip she needed. She would be out of these binds in a few seconds.
The door swung open. Ava stilled as three men walked in. Two were masked by a black cloth draped over their faces like a veil so that only their eyes were visible. One wore none. He was not the biggest of the group, but his presence filled the cramped space. He was definitely the leader.
“It’s about time,” Ava said, keeping her irritation and fear at bay.
The leader studied Ava as hard as she studied him. At first, she had suspected that she was held captive by Middle Eastern terrorists, but after looking at him, she wasn’t so sure. He still had a dark complexion with raven hair and eyes to match, but his features could be considered European. He wore black slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt. An oddity among the mix of flowing garb and swat gear she had seen the other men wearing.
“I’m not normally summoned by a prisoner,” he said in a British accent that made Ava even more confused as to who this man was.
“I’m not normally kidnapped,” she retorted, feeling the binding loosen as she kept working at it. If she tugged hard enough, she could free herself.
“And I normally would’ve refused to speak with you.” His tone was biting. Ava felt the rage.
“Then why are you here?”
“What do you want?” he asked.
“You want Venom.”
“That was clear in the ransom video.”
“I want Venom too. We can work together.”
His laugh echoed through the empty room. Ava didn’t think he’d agree, especially not right away, but he didn’t have to laugh as though she’d said something humorous. If it meant taking down Venom, she would help them . . . for now.
He turned to leave.
“I’m serious,” she said, halting his footsteps. “I have information, and I can help.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Why? Do you know who we are, what we are fighting for?”
“I don’t need to know. I don’t care who you are.”
“Then why?”
“Revenge,” Ava said. It was a simple answer, and it was true. They didn’t need to know anything else.
The man uncrossed his arms. “I don’t need your help,” he said, turning once again to leave.
“Don’t make me your enemy,” Ava warned.
“You already are.”
“At least tell me your name.”
“Natan.” He flicked his gaze on her one last time before he left. One man trailed after him, leaving the other behind to guard her.
She smiled prettily up at the man who towered over her, allowing her binding to slip free.
He looked tired. Perhaps a nap might cheer him up.
* * *
“Ava was sent in from CID. It was assumed someone from our platoon was leaking information. Weapons were being stolen from under our noses, and it always linked back to us,” French said. His fingers listlessly spun the globe.
“I know this already,” Remy said. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“It was never us. Ava and I came to the same conclusion. We were being watched and used.”
“By whom?” Remy asked.
“By Venom.”
“Ava had said there was a cover-up, that someone listed us as dead.”
French nodded. “It was a botched job. Ava was called back to CID, and David wound up in the hospital. Luckily for them, they both escaped in time or I don’t think they’d be around today.”
“Where were you?”
“Hiding. Waiting,” French said, taking a pen from his desk. He mindlessly flipped it back and forth through his fingers. “I still see them, you know? Dead. Time doesn’t erase all memories.” His hand gripp
ed the pen, grasping it as if it were his only lifeline. His jaw muscle twitched as he held on.
Remy watched and waited, searching for a glimpse of the Jeremy French he once knew. But the man before him, fighting a battle in his mind, was no longer the timid soldier. Remy didn’t know what to think or even whether to trust his instincts. Everyone had changed, but what he saw in French was dark and consumed. Bitter. He could sense the rage simmering, even though French tried to hide it with unaffected shrugs and smirks.
“There must be more,” Remy said, bringing French back to the present. “Why would you continue for so long? It won’t bring anyone back.” Remy understood the need to right the wrong, but the Jeremy French he knew had been lost along the way. What kept propelling him on this path?
“Because it hasn’t stopped,” French answered. “Even after the massacre, the stealing hasn’t stopped. There’ve been a few ambushes like ours, made to look like the enemy. But it’s not. It’s Venom.”
Remy nodded in understanding, yet still questioning French. “We’ve been given forty-eight hours to take him down. But if I’m the key, as you say, then I need to know everything you know.”
“I stayed behind. I was considered dead anyway. And it’s not as if I had family to return to. Who would miss me? You and I are kind of the same like that.” He shrugged as he twisted the pen in his hand. “And I was caught, hooked by the stories I had been told by the locals. The tales sounded like they came from the pages of a science-fiction novel. At first, I was going to give up, but then stories began to align, and I knew I was getting close. As far as I can tell, Venom’s work began ten years ago, but it wasn’t weapons he was stealing. He only turned to that after his failure.” Remy felt the weight of French’s stare. “But now I’m wondering if it was actually a success.”
“What was it?”
French tapped the pen on the desk, the rhythm fast and steady. “None of what I’m about to tell you is documented. There are stories about Venom aiding remote villages that were ravaged by war in return for help by a few of their strongest men. He left with those men, never to return.”
My Traitor Page 9