“I couldn’t—I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did exactly the correct thing, Miss Kennedy. Kill or be killed is the rule of law in the world in which Duke and I live. They would have killed you or worse. It was unpleasant, but necessary.”
“His head—god, I’ll never be able to forget the way his entire head just—” I heaved again as the image burned through me.
“Would you care to hear my advice?”
“Yeah, please,” I said, finally feeling like the vomiting was over. I sank to my butt on the floor, wiping at my mouth.
Anselm left and returned with a new, sealed toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, handing it to me. I stood up and began brushing my teeth while Anselm sat on the edge of the tub and watched, his huge rifle cradled easily in his arms.
He let out a breath and then began speaking. “To kill, it is not an easy thing. It should never be easy. But when you are faced with a situation in which you have no choice, well…you must constantly remind yourself that you did what you had to do to remain alive. When your mind attempts to remind you of the events, showing you what you did—then you must force the images away. Refuse to think about them. Do not give the event power over you. You did not choose it, you did not do it out of malice. You must not allow guilt to enter you.”
“How do you deal with it? When you do it for a living?”
“For us who make war professionally, it is different. It is still never easy, but I think we have learned to…separate ourselves from it, in a way.” Anselm passed his hand through his hair, ruffling it. “When we work, when we fight, we are a different person than when we are idle, or at play. But sometimes, for me at least, things have a way of coming back to me in the quiet hours of the night. This will happen to you, I should say. Expect it, deal with it as well as you can, and know that you will be okay, in time.”
I rinsed my mouth, washed my hands, and finger-combed through my hair. “What do we do now?”
“Now? I call Harris, and we formulate a plan to retrieve our comrade.” He moved out of the bathroom, and I followed him, doing my best to not step in anything messy while keeping my eyes off the yucky stuff.
The hallway was…there weren’t words. Bodies were piled on the floor, blocking the way forward, bullet holes pocking the walls, blood everywhere.
I stumbled to a stop, hand over my mouth. “Jesus. What…? What the hell happened here?”
Anselm grabbed me around the waist and lifted me past the worst of it, then set me down facing away from the ruin of battle. “Duke Silver happened.”
“He did this?” I glanced behind me, trying to fathom how it was even possible; there had to be at least ten or twelve dead men in that hallway. “By himself?”
Anselm nodded. “In less than a minute, with his bare hands and a single pistol.” He gestured at the front of the house, which I now realized was… essentially gone, shredded by that machine gun. “There is no way to shield you from the unpleasantness, I’m afraid. There is more out there.”
I nodded and followed Anselm through the wreckage that was the front end of Harris’s house and out into the yard. What I saw made me feel faint. The wooden porch we stood on was so full of holes it was a wonder it still stood. An SUV sat upside down, full of bullet holes. Another vehicle was burning several yards away, the flames flickering orange, sending black smoke into the sky. Behind that was another heap of burning wreckage, along with the remains of the helicopter. There was a bit of rotor hanging limp, the end broken and dangling, flames crackling and leaping, the skeleton of the aircraft blackening.
There were bodies everywhere.
I saw more smoke skirling skyward from the direction of the gate.
I leaned against Anselm. “You and Duke…you did—all this?”
“Mostly Duke,” Anselm said. “I contributed to a portion of the body count, and that burning vehicle by the gate, but the rest of what you see was caused by Duke.”
“Why is all this happening? What do they want?”
“I am not sure anymore.”
An electronic trilling sound came from inside the house, a phone ringing. Anselm trotted in and retrieved the ringing device and answered it.
“Ja, Harris, was geht ab?” He paused to listen, then answered in English. “Things are not so good on this end. They came in force. We held them off, but they managed to take Duke….No, they captured him alive.” He glanced up at the sky, and that was when I heard the sound of a jet overhead. “You have some rebuilding ahead of you, let’s just say that, ja? You will see what I mean. No, she is with me. Ja, see you shortly.”
I took a seat on the step of the porch while Anselm spoke to Harris, and finally had a moment to get a good look at the man.
At first glance, Anselm seemed average and unremarkable. He wasn’t overly tall or muscular, not like Duke, and nor was he as stunningly, classically handsome in the face like Duke was, but once you took a closer look, it became obvious that Anselm was anything but average, and far, far from unattractive. His attractiveness was understated, is how I’d put it. He had a strong, angular jaw shadowed with stubble, vivid, dark brown eyes, clean, symmetrical features, and an artfully messy crop of brownish blonde hair. He was clearly in incredible shape, as well, judging by the way he filled out the black para-military clothing.
Made me wonder what the rest of Duke’s…friends…were like.
I’d soon find out, I realized, when the sound of the jet approached, the aircraft appearing on the horizon, flying low and fast. It was a private passenger jet, but it was being flown more like a fighter jet, skimming the treetops at breakneck speed, and then when it neared the clearing it slowed and began a lazy bank, tilting and circling—so the pilot could get a look at the mess, probably. It made a partial arc around the clearing where the house sat, and then the jet took off at an angle, skirting wide before banking back around far in the distance. There was a landing strip out there somewhere, I assumed, since the jet was now approaching from the opposite direction, landing gear down, nose up, speed slacking off as it descended. It vanished under the trees, and then the sound of the engines faded. A few minutes later, I heard a different engine approaching, this one smaller and thinner; it sounded kind of like an off-road vehicle.
When it appeared, it was exactly what I thought, an off-road utility vehicle. It had no doors, only a roof supported by black bars, and a green body with yellow trim—something made by John Deere, though I knew nothing of that kind of vehicle, obviously. It was occupied by four people, one of them head and shoulders taller than the rest and nearly twice as broad, so big he had to sit in the pickup truck-like bed, and was big enough that his weight made the entire back end dip significantly. That must be Thresh, Duke’s monster of a best friend. The other three were two men and a woman.
The utility vehicle braked to a halt a dozen feet away and the four occupants got out. Thresh, the big one, was indeed a literal giant of a man, standing seven feet tall and so packed with muscle I’d believe him capable of lifting this entire house off its foundation with his bare hands, if he wanted to. His hair was white-blond and spiked in a three-inch wide mohawk, the sides of his head shaved to the scalp, although he obviously hadn’t had an opportunity to shave it recently, judging by the short stubble growing there. He had an arm in a sling and cast, held close to his body, and his eyes were so pale blue they were almost white. Those eyes were piercing, frighteningly intense and cold and hard as they scanned the battlefield wreckage.
The woman hopped out of the UTV and went to Thresh’s side, and his arm went around her, tucking her against him. She was stunningly gorgeous, with flawless caramel skin and thick inky-black hair done in a loose braid. She was tall, too, nearly six feet herself, and looked seriously buff as well as stupidly well-endowed in both boobs and butt while still maintaining a trim physique; I was a little jealous, if I’m being honest.
The other two men circled the front of the vehicle to stand by Thresh, shaking their heads and staring at the
ruin. One was tall and thin and hard, with messy brown hair and a short beard, both shot through with hints of gray, wearing an all black paramilitary uniform; the other was shorter but nearly as broad and heavily muscled as Duke and Thresh were, though he stood maybe five-nine at most, and had an epic beard, his head shaved bald, the beard thick and black and braided to hang down to mid-chest—he wore a pair of black military pants with sagging-open cargo pockets and a black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, some kind of gory, scary looking symbol on the front, probably advertising a heavy metal band, tattoos covering one arm. Each man looked hard, deadly, and dangerous in his own unique way—although, if you asked me, none of them could match Duke.
Duke was dangerous, obviously, but he was just gorgeous—pure, unadulterated sex appeal, sharpened by the fact that you couldn’t miss how rough, rugged, and dangerous he was, which only made him sexier.
But god, thinking about Duke brought tears to my eyes. Before that rifle went off, breaking the moment, Duke and I had shared something. We’d…gone beyond just sex, although now I wasn’t really sure it had ever been just sex between us, even from the very first time I’d touched him.
My head was spinning as everything started crashing in on me, mentally, emotionally, and physically. I mean, it was early evening at this point—six? Maybe seven?—and I’d been through more trauma and emotional rollercoasters in the last ten or twelve hours than in my entire life up until now.
Kidnapped, waking up in a strange place, handcuffed and gagged with a man I didn’t know—the escape, the sudden and gory violence of Duke killing those men…and then realizing I was attracted to Duke more intensely than I’d ever been attracted to anyone, and that he returned it in spades…followed by a series of mind-altering orgasms and giving Duke not one but two blow jobs within the span of a few minutes…god, what was wrong with me? This was, as my kid brother might say, batshit crazy. Duke had killed so many men—I couldn’t even begin thinking about the number, and that was just today. But he’d done it all in self-defense, and in defense of me. He’d protected me. Taken care of me. Showed me that he had a tender side, that he did have a big heart, but it was buried deep beneath his arrogance and machismo.
But…more than just sex? How could I be thinking that, feeling that? What the fuck was wrong with me? You didn’t just meet a guy and fall in love on the same day.
Except that’s what was happening, and it was fucking stupid, fucking crazy, and fucking scary.
I could go home, right now. I know these men around me would take me home and have someone watching in case this Cain guy tried to come after me. I didn’t ever have to see Duke or these guys again. I could forget this whole thing. Accept that I’d had the best, most life-changing sex of my entire life, and just go home.
Go back to my life, to my rules.
I could go back to picking up losers at shitty dive bars, go back to quick, passionless sex, devoid of emotion or meaning.
I could go back to my show, my infinity pool, my Bentley, my fifteen-thousand square-foot Malibu beach-front mansion, my rich, fake, shallow bitchy friends and their rotating roster of rich, fake, shallow, douchebag Beverly Hills boyfriends.
I didn’t want to go back. Not to any of that.
I wanted to get Duke back. And I discovered, as I searched myself, that I was willing to pick up that shotgun again, if I had to, if it meant getting Duke back in one piece.
I felt someone sit down beside me. “You look shell-shocked, sister.” It was the exotic-looking woman, Thresh’s girlfriend.
“Yeah, that’s about right.” I picked up a brass shell casing from the ground and stared at it. “Less than twenty-four hours ago my life was neat, normal, predictable, and safe. Today?” I waved at the mess around us. “This.”
The woman sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I can identify. Not even seventy-two hours ago, I was doing rounds in the ICU and, like you said, my life was as normal and predictable as you could ask for. And then that big beautiful bastard showed up asking for me. Next thing you know, people were chasing us and shooting at us and Thresh was killing people like it was the most normal thing in the world, when it’s just fucking not, right? It’s not, but he makes it look easy. And not only that, but Thresh is—well, look at him.” Our gazes met, and an embarrassed but salacious grin crossed her face. “And yeah, the rest of him is just as big, if you know what I mean.”
I stole a glance at Thresh, did some quick mental measurements, and shot her a look that meant something like holy shit, woman, how are you able to walk right now? And she shot me a look back that meant sister, you have NO idea, and then we were both giggling like women who’d known each other for ten years.
“Temple Kennedy.” I stuck out my hand, and she shook it, her grip punishingly strong.
“Lola Reed.” She took her hand back, but the look on her face told me what was coming. “So, I promise I won’t say another word, but I have to say that I love your show. I watch it after work, like, every day. And I hope it’s not too forward of me to say, but I really like the show a lot better now that Lane’s not in it. And—yeah. So I’m kind of a fan.”
I started laughing and couldn’t stop laughing until I was out of breath. Lola and everyone else was staring at me by the time I got myself together. “Sorry,” I breathed, “Sorry. I just—after everything I’ve been through today, I don’t even feel like the same person I was yesterday. The show, Lane, everything, none of it feels real, after Duke and all the shooting and everything.” I felt myself shudder, the aftershocks of laughter threatening to become sobs. “I think I might be cracking up a little.”
Lola leaned into me. “Now that I can identify with. I’m not sure my life will ever go back to the normal I used to know, and honestly, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.” She eyed me with curiosity in her eyes. “What’s Duke like? Thresh talks about him like he’s…I don’t know, some kind of demigod or something.”
I chuckled. “He kind of is, honestly. He’s huge—not as big as Thresh, but huge.” I leaned closer and whispered confidentially to her. “And by huge, yeah, I mean huge.”
Lola tried to stifle her laughter, but couldn’t quite manage it. “So you and Duke—”
“Oh yeah.” Images of Duke and me flashed through my head. “Yeah. Which is…part of what’s got me shell-shocked, I think.”
Lola nodded. “Same here. It all happened so fast, but it just seemed…” she trailed off, hunting for the right word.
“Inevitable?” I supplied.
“Yeah, exactly,” Lola said. “So…aside from having a monster cock, what’s he like?”
“Complicated,” I said. “Arrogant, sarcastic, funny…sexy, even sweet when he wants to be…and really, really scary.”
“Sounds like Thresh.”
We sat side by side in silence, then, watching Thresh, Harris, the bald bearded guy, and Anselm conferring. None of them seemed especially bothered by the fact that there were dozens of dead bodies everywhere, and Harris had barely given his house a second glance.
“What do you think they’re going to do?” I asked.
Lola shrugged. “Hell if I know. Some kind of fancy commando shit, probably.”
Harris sidled over to Lola and me. “Ladies, we have to get moving.” He extended his hand to me. “My name is Harris. Sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances, but nonetheless, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kennedy.”
I shook his hand. “Call me Temple. And yeah, despite the weird and scary circumstances, it’s nice to meet you.” I stood up, brushing off the seat of my pants. “I’m sorry about your house.”
Harris waved it off like it was nothing. “It’s just a house. I can rebuild it. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
“They took Duke, though.”
Harris’s shrug wasn’t dismissive, but a little more nonchalant than I would have liked. “It’s Duke. I won’t say I’m not worried, but…it’s Duke. He’s unstoppable.” He waved a hand around us. “Look around. He’ll be f
ine.”
“But you do plan on rescuing him, don’t you?”
“Of course. That’s where we’re going now.”
“Which would be where?”
“Anselm got a look at a few license plates as Cain’s guys left, fed them to Lear, our computer expert, and he’s tracking them via satellite. It looks like they’re planning on taking him to an airfield an hour and a half from here. We’re getting into my helicopter and we’re going after them. If we can’t catch up in time, Lear will keep track of their flight and we’ll regroup.”
Thresh came over, then. “And we’re doing all this with a couple of civilian women along for the ride?” He glanced at Lola apologetically. “No offense, babe, but—”
She raised her hands. “Hey, I don’t want any part of the action. That’s your thing, not mine. You gotta go get your buddy back, I’m happy to be left out of it. I’ll be on the ground waiting if you need stitching up.”
“I’m with her. I’ve already shot two people today—I’m not exactly itching to do it again, like ever. So, if there’s somewhere safe we can hide out, that’s totally fine with me.”
“Problem is, you’re both on Cain’s radar now,” the bearded guy said, swaggering up to join the conversation, with Anselm close behind. He shook my hand. “Name’s Puck, and if hot women like you and Lola here are gonna keep popping up in this little adventure we’re having, I volunteer to be next.”
I gaped at him. “You call this an adventure?”
“It’s a hell of a lot more fun than sitting around with my thumb up my ass.” He examined his thumb suspiciously. “Tried that once. Do not recommend it.”
I looked at Lola for help, and she just shrugged. “Don’t look at me, sister, I just met him myself.”
Harris laughed. “Puck, can you rein in the weird just a little? You’re creeping out the new girls.”
Puck dug the stump of a cigar out of a pocket, examined it, picked lint off the charred tip, and then lit it with an electric lighter he’d produced from nowhere. “Boss, the weird cannot be contained. The weird abides, man.” He puffed a noxious cloud of smoke skyward, eyeing us all expectantly, as if he’d made a point we were all missing. “No? The Dude? Nothing? Okay, whatever. Point I was making is, we need all hands on deck to go after our boy Duke. Not sure who we can spare to escort them somewhere safe, and where safe even is at this point. If they’re capable of this bullshit? Your compound was the safe spot, Boss.”
Duke: Alpha One Security: Book 3 Page 22