My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

  “He’ll manage.”

  “You’re not concerned?”

  “He’ll do better than I did.”

  “Remy might be strong, but Boyer can dig into a person’s head. He’ll twist fact and fiction until the person doesn’t even know his own name.”

  French’s jaw twitched, alarming Ava.

  “What is it? What do you know?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” His jaw twitched again.

  “Dammit, French! I know when you’re lying. Tell me what you know. I’m sick of being kept in the dark!”

  “It’s better that way.”

  “For who?” she demanded.

  “You.”

  Ava scowled at him, wanting to inflict damage with just her eyes since she couldn’t very well do anything else. She should’ve punched French when she’d had previous opportunities.

  “Don’t look at me that way.”

  “Then stop treating me like a dumb twit. Tell me what you know!”

  “Remy never was in enemy prison.”

  “Then where was he?”

  “Boyer injected him right before the raid. He was as crazy as David is now.”

  Ava’s stomach curdled. “How do you know this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know until days later. I really thought Remy would’ve died, given all that we discovered about Venom. I didn’t want you chasing him down only to discover . . . You know what the desert can do to a dead body.” He cleared his throat. “Boyer glossed over the report. I had thought it was to protect Remy’s memory. But now I know it was just to cover his own tracks.”

  “What part of the report?”

  “Everyone was killed by the same gun.”

  Ava shook her head, unwilling to believe what conclusion she was drawing.

  “Ava, it was Remy’s gun.”

  Chapter 18

  Remy stared at the shrub. Comprehension of what Boyer said was slowly seeping in like heated tar, coating his limited memories.

  “You’re full of shit!” Remy shouted, though lacking conviction. He didn’t remember. But he wouldn’t slaughter his men. He’d never.

  But with the drugs . . .

  “You’ll remember sooner or later,” Boyer said, gasping.

  Remy squeezed the trigger, but held off. It’d only prove what Boyer had said; that Remy was a killer.

  A force rammed Remy from the side. He skidded, the soles of his boots biting into the rocky soil as he held onto the attacker.

  David.

  Remy, at first thankful David was alive and moving, looked down at his hands, bloody from David’s shirt. Before Remy could register what was happening, David struck out. Remy sidestepped the swing just in time. Again and again, David came at him. And each time, David grew weaker and weaker as red ran down his arm.

  A flash of memory caught Remy off guard. It was him fighting with David. The rage that had burned through his body took over his mind. All he had wanted to do was kill the man in front of him. But it was David. He had wanted to kill David.

  At the time, David had blocked, never striking back. He took Remy’s relentless abuse.

  Christ. This had happened before.

  It was him.

  He was a murderer.

  Guilt, shame, and sorrow swallowed him just as David took another swing. Remy fell from the blow, tumbling to the ground.

  The bush rustled, gaining David’s attention.

  “David!” Remy called, wanting David to stay away from Boyer, who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot a deadly bullet at pointblank range. But his calls were useless; David was already on the move. “David!” Remy took off after him.

  Boyer screamed as David rounded on him, dragging him from his hiding spot. Both men were covered in crimson; Boyer’s injuries were worse than Remy had anticipated. Not only was he bleeding from deep gashes in his head and both legs, but his right arm was dislocated, making him a left-handed shooter. No wonder he had missed before.

  “Help!” he screamed as David continued to drag him.

  Remy was reluctant to help Boyer, but he also didn’t want David’s conscience as murky as Remy’s was now. If only someone could have stopped Remy before he . . .

  Remy pressed his lips together.

  Bang!

  A bullet ripped through David’s other shoulder. At first, David didn’t seem to notice it, but then he fell, trapping Boyer.

  Boyer’s breath grew labored, almost agonizingly so. He must have broken ribs as well. Remy kicked the gun from his hand and pulled David off. Boyer lay flat, unable to move.

  Stripping off his shirt, Remy tied David’s fresh wound. God, there was blood everywhere.

  He bent down and picked David up, groaning from David’s muscular weight. Christ, with all the blood loss, he should be a little lighter.

  “Help,” Boyer wheezed.

  Remy ignored him. Boyer wouldn’t be able to go far, and Remy had to deal with David first.

  “Brock,” Boyer pleaded.

  “I’ll be back for you,” he snapped.

  “Please. The gun. Let me die.”

  Remy didn’t bother answering; he was already on his way back to the lab, hurrying as much as he could with the added weight.

  Behind him, he heard Boyer’s cries and then a shot.

  Silence.

  Remy didn’t turn to look. There was no point. The coward had taken his own life instead of facing the consequences of his actions.

  Remy will have to answer for his own actions; the death of soldiers by his own hand.

  Ava would hate him. He wouldn’t blame her. He hated himself.

  * * *

  While Natan bandaged French, Ava’s thoughts were on Remy and David. She only blinked up when French groaned.

  “You’ll thank me later,” Natan said to French as he tightened the bandage. “It’s better if the wrap is secure so you don’t move as much.”

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t thank you now,” French muttered, his face so pale Ava could see thin blue veins.

  Remy stepped through the open door with David in his arms.

  “Oh, you’re bleeding!” Ava scanned Remy’s shirtless chest, trying to locate his injury. What she saw wasn’t new wounds, but so many old ones. Ones that weren’t there the last time she saw him shirtless. Violent, jagged scars spread up and down his chest, torso, and back. They were everywhere. How much pain had he been in? She wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss each gruesome scar away.

  “It’s David’s blood,” Remy said, hurrying to the table to lie David down. “Boyer shot him. Who the hell shot him the first time?”

  Natan flashed a nervous glance at Ava before looking down at David. “We need to stop the bleeding, but it looks like he lost too much.” He pressed a cloth hard against David’s open wound.

  “There are needles and tubes here,” Remy said, rummaging through drawers. “Do a transfusion.”

  “I don’t know what blood type he is.”

  “We’re the same,” Remy said.

  Natan looked as if he was going to argue but probably realized it wasn’t worth the effort. “Let me clean and bandage the wounds first. I can’t make any promises.”

  Ava studied Remy as he moved about the room, not acknowledging Natan’s response. She had a suspicion that he didn’t care what Natan’s answer was. He’d probably do it without Natan’s help if he had to.

  “Where’s Boyer?” French asked, clutching his side.

  “Dead,” Remy answered.

  “You killed him?” Ava asked, wanting to take back her words when Remy’s hard stare pinned her. His eyes were haunted. Did he feel guilty? He probably did it in self-defense. Remy wouldn’t have done it otherwise.

  “He shot himself. You can find his body just north of the helicopter,” Remy said to Natan. He turned his attention to David. “As soon as David’s stable, I’m taking him out of here.”

  “We all have to get out of here,” French said. “Unless we want to answer for this.” He waved
a limp hand at the lab.

  “I’ll deal with this later,” Remy said. “As soon as Natan is finished, I want you all out of here. We don’t know if Boyer had friends. It’s not safe here.”

  “He worked solo,” French said.

  “He had buyers and too many enemies. I don’t want to take the chance of us getting blindsided. You guys go, and I’ll get David out of here as soon as I can.”

  “I’m staying,” Ava said.

  “Your leg is broken,” Remy said. “You have to get it set properly. Natan and French can help you.”

  Ava wrinkled her nose. “I can take care of myself. I’m staying.”

  “You’re going.”

  “Staying.”

  “Going!”

  “I’m staying!”

  French cleared his throat, hardly gaining attention from the pair. “Ava, it’s not like you won’t see Remy again. You won’t be of any help in the condition you’re in. You’ll jeopardize both him and David if you stay behind. Come with me, and we’ll keep each other company at the doctor’s office.”

  Ava crossed her arms in sulky defiance, knowing he was right. But why was Remy glaring at French? Isn’t her going what he wanted?

  Remy sat heavily onto a chair next to David. He turned his arm over for Natan to access. “Do it now.”

  Natan finished dressing David’s wounds. “This might actually work in David’s favor. There’ll be fewer drugs in his system. I’ll have to try this on my cousin. I just hope it’s not too late. We’ve left him for far too long.”

  “Then go now,” Remy said. “I can do this on my own.”

  “A few extra minutes won’t change my cousin’s fate. But I am anxious to get back,” Natan said, pressing a needle to Remy’s vein.

  “What will you do now that Boyer is dead?” Ava asked Natan.

  “Help my cousin,” Natan answered with a shrug. “Then finally go home. I wanted to see Venom brought to justice.”

  “We all did,” Ava said.

  “It was my fault,” Remy said, focusing on the blood as it moved from his body to David’s. “None of this would have happened if I had saved Tommy.”

  “Tom was a thief,” French argued. “No one could’ve prevented his death. By the time you found out what had happened, he was already dead.”

  Ava studied Remy; his typically well-hidden emotions weren’t so hidden now. Must he always shoulder everyone’s burdens? “Tom was a product of Boyer,” she said. “He tried to prove himself so often that I think he forgot what he was trying to prove. This begins and ends with Boyer. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing?” Remy’s face set in stony determination, shutting everyone out.

  Ava silently cursed. Boyer had gotten into his head. It was the only explanation.

  “Will you be able to handle David on your own if this doesn’t work?” Ava asked.

  “He took care of me when I needed it,” Remy stated. “I will do the same, no matter what it takes.”

  Ava kept silent, knowing this was the end of the conversation. Remy wouldn’t budge. And she really did need a proper setting and cast. She wasn’t a superhero, not by a long shot, and her thread of vanity extended to her nicely shaped legs. She’d like them to stay that way.

  But still . . .

  Ava vowed to return if Remy didn’t follow within a few days. She wouldn’t give him up. Not now. And not without a fight . . . preferably without. She already felt every single bruise and break in her current state. She didn’t need more. But she’d be damned if she was going to allow him to shoulder every burden.

  * * *

  Two weeks later Remy could still remember the exact details as Ava was carried out of the lab, French close behind. She had looked back at Remy, but only briefly. French had said something, turning her soft brown eyes to him.

  They will be good together.

  They’ll have a future, something Remy didn’t have.

  Standing, Remy stretched and walked over to David. He was lying on a mat in a shallow cave. His pulse was still rapid, and his eyes were closed.

  “How are you feeling?” Remy asked.

  Gibberish dribbled from David’s lips. Remy wondered how long this would go on. David had to get better soon. But the fact of the matter was that David was barely eating or drinking. Remy had to force liquids down David’s throat just so he’d stay hydrated. Not a pleasant task, Remy thought as he ran a hand over his sore jaw.

  Remy had thought of seeking medical attention for David, but if they couldn’t save any of Boyer’s other victims, he doubted they’d be able to heal David. Time, however, might be exactly what he needed. It had worked for Remy. At least the parts he remembered, which wasn’t much.

  As the days drifted from one to the next, a few more memory fragments had returned, but there were still giant holes.

  “We have to get you back home to Mya,” Remy said, talking just to hear something other than babbling or silence . . . or memories.

  He used to like silence. But that was when he had so many demanding people around yapping at him. He missed them now. He missed David.

  And Ava.

  He missed them all even more now that he knew he’d never see them again. Not after he turned himself in. It was the right thing to do, especially for the families of his victims.

  Remy’s stomach lurched.

  Victims.

  He had victims.

  Just like Venom.

  Chapter 19

  Ava stabbed the brake pedal with her crutch. Stupid thing came in useful from time to time. Shifting the jeep into park, she reached over and grabbed the binoculars, lifting them to her eyes. She swore she had seen something in the hills a little to the west.

  As she focused the lenses, a cave came into view. Smiling, she tossed the binoculars back onto the seat. Ava turned the jeep off-road, finding her own path to the cave. Her skin lit with tingles, telling her she was on the right track. She didn’t bother circling the hill and coming around from the backside. There was no point in sneaking up on Remy. He would’ve spotted her already.

  Not knowing what kind of reception she’d receive, Ava squared her shoulders with determination. She’d known it’d take Remy a little longer to get back with David in tow, but two weeks and still no sign of either man tested the limits of her patience. He was stalling, and she had a bad feeling as to the reason why.

  The jeep bumped along the craggy ground, jarring Ava. She held on tight to the crutch, propelling the vehicle forward. Using the crutches to control the gas and brake pedals took some getting used to. If Remy didn’t see reason, her crutches would find another use.

  Thankfully, the slope up wasn’t too steep and, with enough gas, Ava was just able to reach the top without skidding back down.

  She wrenched the door open, holding it with her good foot while she gathered both crutches.

  “How did you find me?” Remy asked, peering down at her as she was in the midst of an unflattering twist. She groped for the crutch in the backseat.

  Ava arched her brow, wondering at his question. Did he really think that just because he was living like a bear she wouldn’t find him? “Do you want me to answer that, or is this your way of saying hello?”

  “It’s my way of saying good-bye.”

  Ava shrugged off the stinging words. “I just got here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re not welcome.”

  “Listen, you giant ass,” Ava snapped but stopped when Remy blinked as if confused.

  “French called me that once,” he said.

  “Maybe because it’s the truth,” she said, kicking the door open wider so she could get both crutches through.

  “I said you’re not welcome,” Remy snarled. “Go home to French. He’ll take care of you.”

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!” Ava shouted. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.” As she stood, a crutch slipped out from under her, launching gravel down the hill. Remy grabbed her arm to steady her. She shrugged
away. “I’m fine!”

  “You’re not fine,” he said. “You have a broken leg. You can barely drive.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You were weaving all over the place.” His fists planted on his hips.

  “I was avoiding potholes.”

  “By the way the jeep was bouncing, I think you found all the holes.”

  Ava’s brows pinched together. Must they quarrel at every encounter? While their spats were sometimes entertaining and with marvelous outcomes, this wasn’t one of them. He was deliberately pushing her away. The sadness in his eyes warred with his wide, battle-ready stance.

  She motioned for him to stoop down. “You have a bug right there,” she lied softly, pointing to his forehead.

  He stepped away from Ava and reached up to run his hand over the spot she had indicated.

  “Great. Now it’s squished on your head,” she huffed. “It’s a good thing you shave your head or you’d have a mess. Come here, and I’ll get it off.”

  He inspected his hand for bug residue. “Just go. I’ll take care of it later.”

  Ava bristled. He had pushed her away before, but never like this. And if it wasn’t for his eyes that so thoroughly contrasted his words, she would’ve been devastated. Now, she was furious. This was her life he was messing with too.

  “Brock, get over here, or so help me I’ll climb up your sorry ass — broken leg and all!”

  “Remy.”

  “You’re whatever name I call you,” she snapped. “Bend down!”

  He studied her for a moment before leaning down. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him close. Stumbling, Remy held both arms out to catch himself on the jeep, effectively trapping Ava in between.

  Perfect.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper.

  Ava shook her head no.

  “Your leg?”

  Ava shook her head again.

  His hand traveled down her arm. “Where?”

  “Here,” she said, pressing her lips to his.

  He stood motionless for a surprised moment before muttering a curse and deepening the kiss as if he’d never have the chance to kiss her again. Ava tasted a few glorious seconds of victory before Remy stopped, his forehead resting on hers.