by Carly Fall
He lifted his head and looked at her. She certainly hadn’t been expecting that. It reminded her of old warrior movies one could find on Turner Classics.
“It’s nothing illegal, Beverly,” Faith said softly. “I promise you.”
Beverly nodded, turning back to Hudson. She couldn’t believe she was going to
do this, and wondered where it ranked in the stupid things she had done in her life. She guessed it probably made the top five, easily.
Turning back to Rayner and Faith, she said, “Let’s go.”
Rayner smiled, then pulled a gun from the back of his jeans.
Beverly jolted, suddenly afraid.
“Relax, Beverly. I’m a man of my word, and I told you that you wouldn’t be
hurt.” He turned to Faith and handed her the gun. “Love, you need to stay here while I get the car. If anyone comes through that door, you use this just like you’ve practiced.” He flipped a switch on the gun. “The safety is off, so all you have to do is point and shoot.
And don’t stop shooting until you’re sure they’re down, okay?”
She nodded and took the gun.
“I’ll knock six times to let you know it’s me.”
She nodded again, and he gave Beverly one last quick grin, then he left.
Beverly watched as Faith took a deep breath and met her eyes. Neither said
anything for a moment, then Beverly said, “What’s a Colonist?” She turned back to Hudson and began dabbing the blood off his face, trying to stop the flow from some of his wounds.
“A killer,” Faith said in a small voice. “A vicious, brutal killer.”
They fell into a silence while Beverly worked on Hudson, and Faith stared at the
door, the gun in her hand by her side.
A few minutes later, the knock on the door startled both of them. Faith brought up the gun, and Beverly prayed she wouldn’t shoot. Faith held the gun out, her arm steady, her face calm.
Six knocks, and Faith put the gun down by her side and went to the door. Rayner
walked in.
“Okay, ladies. This is going to be interesting.” He looked at Hudson. Beverly had cleaned up his face to reveal some bruises and a swollen lip.
He stepped over to Hudson. “Beverly, you and Faith go to your room. Get your
stuff. I’ll get him in the car. Take the gun, Faith.”
The rest was a blur—Beverly and Faith charged down the path, and when they got
to Beverly’s room, they haphazardly threw all her things into her suitcase, and Beverly was packed in mere minutes. Beverly hauled the suitcase off the bed and followed Faith out the door. Rayner stood at Hudson’s door, waiting for them. Beverly noticed he scanned the area, as if he were looking for something…or someone.
Rayner took the gun from Faith and kissed the top of her head. Then he grabbed
Beverly’s suitcase.
“Let’s get out of dodge, ladies.”
Chapter 11
Charles El Asesino Taylor watched from afar as the Warrior named Hudson was hauled into a SUV. He thought about attacking the Warrior carrying him, but decided against it. What if more were hanging around? That could lead to nothing but trouble for him. Besides, he knew exactly where they were going, which was back to their missile silo. That was how he had followed Hudson—he had been watching the place for about a week now. Man, he enjoyed slicing Hudson with his knife. Too bad he never got to finish the job.
And wouldn’t you know…there was the fucking redhead bitch who had started
this whole thing. She was the catalyst for his plan to kill them all, and he had very special and very painful plans for her.
He sighed as he watched the SUV leave, aware of how he had messed up his
plans. After knocking Hudson cold, he had gotten hungry, so he went to eat before resuming the torture. He arrived back at Hudson’s room too late.
He realized he had become obsessed with killing the Warriors. Nothing else
seemed to matter to him anymore. Not the Mexican cartel he killed for, not Diego, the head of the cartel’s threats of death if he didn’t go back to Mexico…nothing mattered to him anymore.
But it should.
Becoming an assassin for the cartel had worked out very well for him. He fulfilled his urges to kill—it didn’t matter if it was man, woman, child, dog, goat…whatever.
Because he didn’t care, he had moved up quickly within the ranks of the cartel, and the head honcho, Diego, had taken notice of him. Charles soon became Diego’s right-hand man. Diego had a thing for redheaded women, which he went through almost as fast as shit through a goose. He was really rough on his women, and most never lived for more than a few months. It became Charles’s job to get Diego redheads.
Finding a redhead in Mexico was like trying to find a hooker in church—there
just weren’t many around.
Because of his unassuming guy-next-door looks, he was able to move through the
border with usually no more than a wave and a “have a nice day.”
His phone rang, blaring a “Highway to Hell” ringtone. He knew it was Diego.
“What,” he said.
“I need you back here,” Diego said calmly.
“Can’t. I’m busy.”
There was silence on the other end. “Once you are in the folds of my cartel, you
know you can’t escape, Charles. You belong to me, just as every other assassin does.”
“Are you threatening me, Diego? Because if the answer is yes, you better rethink
that. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
Diego chuckled. “If that’s the way you want to play it, then fine.”
He hung up.
Charles’s left eye began to twitch. Now not only did he have the Six Saviors after him, he had a drug cartel.
And he didn’t care. Nothing else matter except killing those Warriors.
He knew that in order to do that, he either had to take them out one by one as they left the missile silo, or he had to get in there. When he watched Hudson leaving the silo alone, it was simple to follow him. Of course, a little bribe to the front desk and concierge didn’t hurt either. He knew every move Hudson made, every phone call, and every
request to the hotel staff. When Hudson had asked for a concierge, he had known his opportunity to get Hudson had arrived. He slipped the real concierge a twenty to stay at his desk, which the guy was happy to do since it was about one-hundred-and-ten-degrees out, and Charles had gone to Hudson’s room. The look of surprise on Hudson’s face made him so giddy, he almost forgot to Taser him.
He had been certain that Hudson would break. Yes, he was physically large, but
that didn’t matter when it came to torture. Charles sensed that Hudson was mentally weak, and he was surprised Hudson had held out as long as he had. It actually infuriated him, and he wanted nothing more than to gut the Warrior. However, he was sure that Hudson would eventually give him the code he needed.
He had dreams of breaking into the silo and gunning down anything alive, then
setting the place on fire, or throwing a Molotov cocktail in there and watching the whole thing blow up. He imagined the carnage and the smell of burnt flesh, and it made him giggle like a little girl.
Charles headed back to his room for the night and decided he would make his
way to the silo again tomorrow for a little recon. However, the urge to kill was
overwhelming because he had held back on Hudson, and it needed to be addressed.
Sighing, he looked around and saw a little Mexican maid pushing her cart. She would be easy to dominate and carry out to the desert once she was dead.
“Excuse me, senorita,” he called.
The woman turned around and smiled.
“I need more towels, por favor.”
“Of course,” said, reaching into her cart and pulling some out.
That wouldn’t do.
“I also seem to have
an issue with some bugs in my bed,” he said quietly, stepping close to her. “I’d hate get anyone in trouble because of it.”
Her eyes widened, and he could see the realization in them. If one of her rooms
were caught with bed bugs, she would be out of a job.
“Of course, sir,” she said, putting the towels away and turning her cart around.
Whistling softly, he led her to his room, and he felt the rush of the impending kill flow through him.
He would take down the Six Saviors once and for all if it was the last thing he did.
And it most likely would be.
But for now, he had to sate his urges, the very make-up of his being, the darkness in his soul.
Chapter 12
Beverly carefully tied the last stitch in Hudson’s chest. Her back ached, her
fingers were numb, and she had lost count of the stitches at one hundred and twenty.
Rolling her neck, she placed the needle and thread on the silver medical tray next to the bed along with the latex gloves she had been wearing.
She looked around the room again. It was nice. Deep, dark, desert reds, and rich
desert greens complimented the blacks and tans. She took off her shoes and squeezed her toes in the plush dark green carpet.
She desperately needed a shower. Or bath. She just needed water.
Padding over to her suitcase, she took out some sweats and a t-shirt and went into the black marble bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her. She stripped and decided on a bath instead of a shower, as she needed to sit and think and try to relax.
She looked for some bubble bath under the sink, and found none. She did find
some soap with a French name she couldn’t pronounce and decided that would have to do. It had a light scent, nothing too flowery or feminine. When the tub was full, she undressed and slipped under the comforting warm water.
Heaven.
Closing her eyes, she thought about the past few hours.
Her, Rayner, Faith, and Hudson had ridden in silence for a good half hour. Since
Beverly wasn’t familiar with the area, she had no idea where they were going, but she noticed signs that they were on Interstate 10 heading west. Rayner had put Hudson in a bathrobe and strapped him in with the seatbelt in the back seat. Beverly climbed in next to him, somehow feeling protective of her patient, even if she was a fraudulent doctor.
She wondered what would happen to her if they found out.
Hudson had let out a groan, and Beverly made some soothing sound she had
never made before while pushing some hair out of his face. She remembered the beauty of the man that he had been, and she could still see some of it under all the black and blue bruises.
“Beverly,” Rayner had said, breaking the silence, “I need you to put this on
around your head like a blindfold. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you see where we’re headed.”
Fear clenched her gut, and she shakily took the pillowcase from him, running her
finger over the Four Seasons emblem stitched in the fabric. “I don’t know where we are, Rayner. I’m not from the Phoenix area. And why wouldn’t I be able to see where we’re going?”
“Let’s just say that you’re going to a…private facility.”
Beverly was stunned. What did a private facility mean? Military? Government?
He didn’t look like any government or military guy she had ever seen. He and Faith looked like two people who loved to have fun and also loved each other. Government?
No.
“What does that mean?” she asked incredulously.
Rayner nodded, brushing off her question. “I told you, nothing illegal.”
Faith had looked over the seat with kindness in her eyes, but Beverly’s heart
pounded with nervous energy as she folded the pillowcase in half and tied it around her eyes, and that little voice that was constantly nagging her about finding some pain pills grew louder.
What had she gotten herself into?
She remembered bouncing up a dirt road, stopping, going a little farther, and then coming to a stop. “Beverly, I’m trusting you to keep that thing on. I’m coming around to get you and lead you inside.”
She heard another male voice outside the car. “What the fuck, Rayner?”
“Later, Noah. Like you can see, we’ve got company.”
Then Beverly’s door opened and she heard a sharp inhale, as if whoever was there
was shocked by what they saw. Then a female voice greeted her. “Hi. I’m so terribly sorry about this. What’s your name?”
“Beverly,” she said quietly.
“Beverly, I’m Abby, and I’m sure this must be very scary for you. Please, let me
help get you inside and we can get that off your eyes.”
Beverly felt Abby grab her hands, and she was led across some gravel and up five
stairs. She could hear Rayner and Noah talking in the distance in hushed tones. A few steps later, they had reached another staircase heading down, and Beverly couldn’t hear them any longer.
“Let’s get this off you,” Abby said, untying the pillowcase.
Beverly was met with a smile from a woman in her mid-twenties with long, thick
auburn hair, a plastering of freckles across her nose, and warm brown eyes. She stood a little taller than Beverly, and wore black shorts and a pink t-shirt. “Hi, Beverly,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Abby.”
Beverly shook the delicate hand while looking around the room. She had landed
in some type of great room and kitchen area. The low lights provided a comforting glow, showcasing the state-of-the-art, top-of-the-line kitchen stainless steel appliances, a shiny black countertop, and comfortable, yet elegant furnishings. The place was breathtaking and she was certain that military facilities didn’t look like this.
She didn’t think they did, anyway.
A large, black cat sat in the middle of the kitchen floor staring at her.
“That’s Neptune,” Abby said. The cat meowed a hello.
She heard cursing behind her and turned to find Hudson slung between Rayner
and another man. They were struggling with Hudson’s girth and weight.
“Jesus, what the fuck has he been eating? He’s about as easy to move as a truck,”
the other man said. He was tall and large with wavy brown hair and dark eyes wearing jeans, combat boots and a black shirt that had Affliction across the chest in white. That must be Noah.
“You eat what he cooks,” Rayner had grunted. “You know exactly what he’s been
eating.”
“We’re almost at the elevator. Let’s just get him in his quarters,” Rayner said.
“Follow us, Beverly.”
She did as she was told, noticing that Abby and Faith trailed after her in silence.
She turned, and both of them gave her a small smile, then fell in step on each side of her.
“I’m so sorry about this, Beverly,” Abby said in a low voice.
“I am too,” Faith said. “But thank you for helping our friend. It means more to us than you’ll ever know.”
They all piled into the elevator, and Hudson let out another groan. “We got you,
man,” Rayner said, “you’re solid.”
“No,” Hudson moaned as his head lolled to the side. “No, I’m not.”
The elevator came to a halt, and Noah pulled out some keys from his jeans pocket
and unlocked the heavy wooden door.
They led Hudson to the bed and laid him out, both of them breathing hard.
“I think I just messed up my back,” Noah grumbled. Then he turned to Beverly,
grimaced, and then smiled.
“I’m Noah, by the way. I’m Abby’s…husband.” He stepped forward, keeping one
hand on his lower back and offered her his other hand. She shook it, but didn’t say anything. “I’ll go get some knitting tools. What else do you
need?”
Beverly looked at Hudson, going into full doctor mode. She did a more in-depth
examination of his wounds and listed a few things she thought she might want and then met Noah’s eyes. They were the same dark color as Hudson’s and Rayner’s.
She wondered again what she had gotten herself into and who these people were.
But it was odd, because she wasn’t afraid. She had surprised herself with the calm that came over her in spite of the fact that she was in a strange place pretending to be a doctor.
She reached up and turned the hot water lever, hoping to soothe the kink in her
upper back.
Everyone had stayed with her for about an hour or so, talking in low tones as she stitched up Hudson. She didn’t participate in the conversation, and eventually Abby had said, “Let’s leave Beverly alone so she can concentrate, and we can start getting dinner ready.” Faith agreed, but Rayner didn’t.
“I’m staying,” he said quietly, leaning up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
Beverly had wished everyone would go, but she didn’t say anything.
“Rayner, you aren’t helping by being here,” Faith had said.
“I’ll stay to make sure Hudson’s okay.”
Faith gently touched his hand. He bent his head down, and she said something in
a low voice to him.
“All right,” he had said with a sigh. “We’ll be back about dinnertime, doc.”
It had to be about dinnertime.
She was a little hungry, but she really didn’t feel like seeing anyone. Not for a while, at least.
She was having trouble with her thoughts and feelings about the man who looked
like he had been through a paper shredder.
As she had stitched the massive planes of his body, she couldn’t help but admire
the deep cuts of muscle and tendons. The guy was in phenomenal shape. And that same word came back to her that she had used to describe him before: beautiful. Flashes of watching him have sex the previous night ran through her head non-stop, leaving an ache in her lower belly.
The last thing she should be thinking about was sex, but Hudson had made that
nearly impossible.
She thought back to the last time she had sex. It had been about six months before her mother died, so that made it...almost a year and a half. She rarely dated because of time constraints and sheer exhaustion, and forget about having the energy for one-night stands.