The Vigilantes Collection

by Lake, Keri

  I kicked my head to the side, catching the shake of Elodie’s head.

  Tears formed in her eyes as her lips firmed in a hard line. “You’re a bastard, Viktor. A rotting piece of shit!” she spat out.

  “She looks so clean and pure,” he continued. “Don’t let her fool you.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “She was always his favorite.”

  “Fuck. You!” A rustling at my holster had me reaching for my push knife, but before I could grab it, Elodie slipped from behind me, arm drawn back as she rushed toward Viktor.

  “Elodie! No!” I shouted.

  Two bullets hit the side of her skull.

  One of the gunmen at the door lowered his piece, and I popped him twice in the chest. At the first shot of return fire, I dove behind the steel cabinet. As bullets poured in on the room, Dax hunched beside me, and we both volleyed shots.

  Two fired from the hallway, hiding behind the wall at either side of the door. We waited, and when one of the men crept into the room, Dax snuffed him with a bullet to the throat.

  The last took off down the hall, presumably to get more firepower, and Viktor spun to follow.

  Before he could get far, I stalked toward the door and nailed a shot in the doorframe, narrowly missing Viktor’s skull. He spun around, gun pointed in my face.

  Both of us stood deadlocked, no more than a handful of feet from each other, until Dax cocked his pistol beside me.

  “Drop the gun,” I commanded.

  “Go to hell.”

  I shot a bullet in Viktor’s thigh, and the bastard cried out, dropping the pistol as he gripped his wound. Lifting a hand to shield his face, he shifted to his good foot, and I pushed him forward toward Dax.

  I jerked my chin toward where we’d come in. “Let’s get out of here before they come back.”

  Gun propped and ready to fire, I brought up the rear, as Dax led the way out of the room, his rough grip dragging a hobbling Viktor along with us, and back down the hall to the other side of the building, where we climbed the stairs.

  The thud of boots trampling down the hallway piqued my alarms, and I knocked Viktor in the back with the barrel of my gun. “Move!”

  Two flights below us, at least four other bodies plowed through the door and up the staircase after us. Gunshots pinged off the concrete, as Dax, Viktor and I rounded each stair toward the floor to the factory we’d accessed. Through the door, we burst into the darkness and dashed across the open space, rounding columns and debris, while the sounds of gunshots echoed out from the stairwell.

  We reached the window we’d crawled inside, and I pointed for Dax to climb through first. “Go!”

  Behind us, our pursuers slammed through the door, and I spun around and bump fired my AR.

  One of the gunman collapsed, tripping up the one behind him, who stumbled forward. Two more entered behind, ducking out behind an old machine propped against the wall.

  The whizz of a bullet slid past my ear and a wicked burn grazed my cheek. I slapped a hand to my face where the burn intensified. “Fuck!”

  Once outside, Dax reached through, and when I pushed Viktor toward the window, Dax pulled him to the other side. While Dax provided cover with a round of gunfire, I climbed through the adjacent window, and the cold hard ground slammed into my face as I dropped. I shook it off, pushing to my feet, and just caught Viktor limping across the open lot.

  I lifted the gun and shot the back of his calf in his good leg, and he stumbled forward, face-planting the ground.

  “Nice shot,” Dax said, patting me on the back, and we both booked it across the weeds and dirt after him.

  Shots pealed out from behind us.

  “Goddamn it! Fuck! Fuck!” Dax cradled his arm like his bicep had been hit.

  Reaching Viktor, I gripped the back of his shirt, and holding back the chain link, pushed him through the gap in the fence and followed behind him. With a tight grip, I dragged him toward Dax’s car and shoved Viktor into the backseat, as Dax plopped into the passenger’s seat. A bullet hit the Cuda, as I rounded the vehicle, and I clambered into the driver's seat and fired it up. Tires squealed as I spun the car around and took off down the side street.

  Slipping the gun between us, Dax twisted around.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, I watched for any vehicles that might’ve followed behind. “You all right?” I asked him while my attention bounced between the factory fading in the distance and the oncoming vehicles.

  “Yeah, I’m all right. Looks like they got you, too.”

  I shifted my jaw where the bullet had grazed my skin. “Just a scratch.”

  He turned back toward Viktor. “Where is Pasák?”

  “You won’t find him. No one knows where to find him.”

  “Is he the one who had my family murdered?” I shifted my gaze to Viktor's reflection in the mirror. “My brother Reed?”

  “He is the one who took my girl. He is the one who will pay for what he did to me all those years.” His gaze fell from mine. “Elodie was as much a victim as I was. As all of us were. Livvie. Reed. Jolana. We were just doing what we were told. Climbing the Ladder to get out of his cesspool of bullshit lies. He was the director, and we were the cast of his twisted fucking fantasy.”

  “Who? Whose fantasy?” Dax lifted his gun when Viktor didn’t answer. “Don’t make me spray your fucking brains all over the back window, asshole.”

  “Who else?” he said, meeting my reflected stare. “Kelley.”

  55

  Lucy

  I arrived at the address Jolana provided—an old mansion set in the Palmer Woods section of Detroit. I’d always thought of the place as a secret club of auto execs, politicians, the rich folk of the city. How the hell Jolana had managed to snag one of those guys was beyond me, though she did have some pretty decent connections with bigwigs through her father, from what I’d gathered.

  As I pulled into the circular drive, completely open and exposed, a thought crossed my mind—what if she hadn’t told the guy I was coming? What if he didn’t want her to leave?

  Instead of strolling up to the door, I called her number.

  No answer.

  Peering through the passenger window, I caught a flash of movement from the mansion’s first level window.

  One more time, I dialed the number.

  Still no answer.

  A text popped up on my screen: Just packing up. Come in front door. He’s not home.

  Blowing an easy breath, I relaxed a little, but brushed my finger across the Glock still tucked in my waistband as I exited the car. I also left the keys in the ignition. I’d seen enough horror movies to know the one thing always holding up escape was not having the goddamn keys at the ready.

  With careful steps, I made my way to the front door, noticing the small crack where it'd been left open. Every alarm inside my head told me to abort mission. Return to the car and drive as far away as possible.

  I glanced back toward the drive and spun around to do just that. To hell with the hero shit. I’d call the cops and have someone come get her.

  A scream from inside steeled my muscles.

  Jolana?

  Fight beat out flight, and I tugged the gun from my pants and pushed through the heavy wooden door into what appeared to be a foyer. Thick mahogany wood made up a staircase to the right of the hallway, which split into two separate rooms, an empty parlor-style room to the left of me. The place didn’t feel as though anyone lived inside, with its thick coating of dust on the wood and sparse furniture.

  The dimly-lit space swallowed me as I stepped deeper inside, but streetlights streaming through the front windows allowed me to see a door just below the staircase, left slightly ajar.

  “Jolana?” I called out, holding the gun in front of me. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

  Another scream, more faint than the first, rose from below ,and my gaze locked on the door beneath the stairs.

  Shit.

  I paused, staring at it. No doubt, it'd lead to a basemen
t. All the creepy, old houses had doors beneath the stairs that lead to dungeon-style basements.

  “Lucy! Help me!”

  At the sound of my name, I raced forward, throwing it open, to reveal a winding staircase. Only a single silver light from below cut into the shadows, revealing a pipe railing that stuck out from a wall made of old chipped stones, striped with water stains. The rickety stairs groaned with my weight as I took one at a time, my gun leading the way.

  A high-pitched grinding noise punctuated the rapid beat of my heart, as I paused and took a breath, not daring to call out to her. I had no idea who owned the house, or if there were others. The grinding stopped, and sobbing replaced the mysterious sound.

  I had to be close.

  Another round of stairs took me to a landing that opened up to a large arched doorway, like something out of the medieval era, where a sliver of light bled through a gap at the bottom. To my left, a shallow, brick alcove housed stacks of wooden barrels. A wine cellar?

  The grinding noise started up again, and a scream vibrated down my spine.

  Jolana!

  I pushed at the door, the creaking, thankfully, drowned by the grinding from within the room. Light from inside bled into the surrounding darkness, and as I peeked through the small crack I’d made, my eyes widened. My throat went dry.

  My heart pounded a rhythm of terror.

  Oh, my God.

  56

  Jase

  I circled Viktor, who sat propped on a dirty chair in the abandoned cold storage building. Soot coated the floor between rows of columns, and half the ceiling had collapsed after the building caught fire a few years back.

  “Motherfucker!” Dax paced beside me, while I struggled to make sense of everything. “That dirty cocksucker was behind the shit all along!” Rubbing his skull, he paused his pacing, his lips twisting into a snarl. “He killed Olivia. In the video. He was the fucking voice.”

  Viktor nodded, a grin still plastered to his face, despite the split to his lip where Dax had already drilled him once. “Shocker, isn’t it? Kelley used to have these little retreats, as he called them.”

  My stomach twisted at the thought that Reed had gone on a few with the bastard. Fuck, I’d even praised him for getting his ass out and making friends.

  “Bridger had it bad for Livvie, and Kelley knew it.” Viktor shook his head. “Coward. Always willing to do as Kelley told him.” He gave an exaggerated sigh that probably had Dax ready to split his skull open. “Shame what happened to her.”

  “Where can we find Pasák?” I held the barrel of the gun to his forehead. “And don’t fucking lie to me.”

  “I already told you. No one knows.”

  I shoved the barrel into his mouth instead. “Any idea what a rifle might do to your skull?”

  He held up his hands in surrender, and I slid the gun from his mouth, knocking the back of his tooth on the way out. “It’s never the same place. Beauty about Detroit, right? All those abandoned houses. Where else can you get away with a crime?” His voice echoed through the building. “He’ll kill you before you find him.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” I slid the gun-strap over my shoulder and switched to Black Betty, holding the blade level with his throat. “What is your role in Seventh Circle?”

  “I’m the entertainment director.” He sneered and spat blood on the ground.

  “What was Reed’s role?”

  “Reed never had a role.”

  I hoped that was true. “But he had the tattoo.”

  “To protect Livvie. Always protecting little Livvie.”

  “Who trains the girls?” I lifted the blade higher.

  “Conall. Kelley’s right hand man and kidnapper.”

  “Why Elodie?”

  His lips twisted with disgust. “Because he stole Jolana from me.”

  I glanced back to Dax. “You said … Jolana was safe? Where’s Lucy?”

  “She said … fuck, Jase.” Frowning, he shook his head. “She said she’s going after her.”

  Viktor chuckled. “Save yourself the trouble. She’s probably dead by now. I’m sure you can catch the reruns on the website, though.”

  Rage burned inside my veins, and I hammered a fist to his face, knocking his head back. Twisting around to Dax, I slid Black Betty back inside the holster and nudged my head toward Viktor. “You got him?”

  Dax rubbed his knuckles into his palm. “Yeah, I got this. I’ll have Rhys come join the party.”

  “There’s supposed to be an auction in two days,” I said, backing away from them, my nerves rattled over Lucy. “Find out where it’s to be held.”

  Viktor squirmed in his seat, and as he pushed up, Dax knocked him back into the chair. “I told you everything I know.”

  “Not everything.” Dax tipped his head, a grin stretching his lips. “How well do you respond to pain?” From inside his coat, Dax pulled the bolt cutters he’d used earlier, twisting them in front of Viktor.

  I made a dead run for Dax’s car, while the sound of Viktor’s screams bounced through the building, only one thought racing through my mind.

  Lucy better still be alive.

  57

  Lucy

  Through the arched doorway stood another thick metal door, like something found on a ship with a wheeled lock. Must’ve been the turning of the wheel that'd made the grinding sound I’d heard from above.

  A single light bulb illuminated the vault inside. I’d read about the spacious Prohibition vaults, where the rich and lawless would store their liquor back in the day.

  From what I could see through the doorway, Jolana’s blonde locks lay draped over the edge of a table, the usual shine and luster matted and tangled.

  “Shhhhh! Jolana, dear. You did this to yourself. You brought this on yourself.”

  I focused on the masculine voice. It must’ve belonged to the man she’d been fucking the last few days. Had I heard it before? Someone I’d seen at the club at one time?

  I couldn't help but wonder if he knew I was standing outside of the door?I’d heard Jolana call my name. I didn’t sneak up to the house, I’d parked right out in front, so surely they’d seen me.

  “Please, Pasák. Let me go.”

  My heart thumped into my throat, choking a swallow, and I slapped my palm to my mouth. Pasák? My stomach turned, as I recalled the conversation I’d had with Craig nearly a month ago.

  Seventh Circle is a website on the darknet. The owner is completely anonymous. He goes by the name of Pasák.

  The man behind the snuff films. The man who'd had Jase’s family killed. Probably the one who’d sent me the email, too. And I’d thought it was Viktor.

  A creeping sensation settled over me, and I rubbed the back of my neck. I’d walked straight into a spider web, and my body tingled with numbness and panic, uncertain of what to do next.

  “Sklamal si ma, lupienok.” You disappoint me, petal. For a man who went by a Slovak name, he didn’t seem to speak the language well. Unlike the natural flow I’d grown up with, his Slovak carried a hard clip, as though it might be his second language.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I’m swearing to you. I did not do this. I did not betray your trust.”

  “Ah, of course, not, Jolana. You were always so innocent in this, weren’t you? My innocent little petal.”

  Innocent? In what?

  Peeking into the small anteroom that separated the vault from where I stood, I widened the crack, freezing as the conversation died to a brief pause. I just needed one peek at his face. One glimpse to see if I’d recognize him.

  “Trust is something … sacred” he continued. “It’s not given freely. And it can be destroyed in a single act of defiance.”

  “Please, I’ll earn your trust.” Jolana’s voice held a fragile desperation I’d never heard before, as if she might crack and break down at any minute. “I promise I’ll earn it.”

  I slipped inside the anteroom, sticking tight to the wall in the shadows, until I reached the sh
ip door. To the left of me, the entrance to the vault acted as a spotlight in the surrounding darkness.

  “First, you must be punished. And, as you know, I’m not one to carry out punishment. I’m far too soft. It’s much too painful for me to hurt you.”

  “Please. I did as you asked. I did everything you asked of me. Please don’t hurt me.” Jolana’s sobs reminded me of a child’s, and as much as I wanted to rush into the room and save her, I clung to the dimness, at least until I knew how many there were.

  Bending forward, I dipped down until I could see the crown of Jolana’s head. Her cuffed fists had been attached to a pipe, which was fastened to the tabletop above her head. I wished I could do something, let her know I was there.

  A thump hit my back, and before I could spin around, arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting me off the ground.

  I shot my gun, once, twice, angled down and shot again. As an outcry rang in my ear, I fell from the tight grip.

  “Fuck!” The figure behind me groaned and bent forward, gripping his ankle.

  Backing away, I pointed my gun at a shadowy hulk. My body trembled, nerves on edge and tingling, waiting for a counterattack.

  “You dirty whore. You’ll pay for that.” The deep, raspy voice. I recognized it. Conall.

  I backed inside the vault, getting a full-on view of Jolana.

  Strapped to a table, completely naked, her thighs had been spread toward a camera at the other end.

  Beside it stood an older man, perhaps in his late fifties, in dress slacks and an untucked, white button-down. A businessman? I’d seen him before, but where?

  In seconds, my brain scoured memories, an old news story zipping through my head, but just as fast, Conall hobbled into the room, blocking what appeared to be the only exit, holding a gun pointed back at me.

  I narrowed my eyes on the stranger, keeping the gun on Conall, ready to paint the wall with the bastard’s brains. I couldn’t shake the distraction of trying to identify him. “You. You’re … that youth counselor. Those kids.” Flashes of the story played inside my head. A politician. Praised for his efforts of helping homeless kids. “Kelley.”