Hard Justice (The Alpha Antihero Series Book 2)

by Sybil Bartel

  I walked out of the recruiter’s office.

  Standing in the fading dusk, the recruiter looked at me with concern. “All done?”

  “Yes. I will be back tomorrow with my wife. The agent says he will be here with the paperwork.”

  “If he says he’ll be here, he’ll be here.” The recruiter handed me a bag he was holding. “Here. I figured you must be hungry. I got you a couple sandwiches and two bottles of water from the deli across the street. Nothing fancy, but they’re good.”

  “Thank you.” Taking the bag, I scanned the view in front of me in the fading light. Neither dusk nor nightfall could disguise the endless amount of asphalt, garish lit-up signs or lack of unspoiled earth.

  I did not want to live in this world where paved roads and buildings as far as the eye could see stamped out nature. The yearning for my woman and the solace of forest around me with the sound of the wind through the trees was so great, I felt sick. But this was the world I was a part of now, and the recruiter, the agent, they were the type of men I would be around from here on out.

  I glanced at the recruiter. “Do you ever get used to all of the concrete?”

  “Not if I can help it.” The recruiter slapped me on the shoulder and smiled for the first time since I had walked into his office. “And don’t worry. You become a Ranger, you won’t be seeing much concrete.”

  I nodded once as the agent came out of the building. Glancing at the recruiter, he held his hand out. “Thanks for your help, Staff Sergeant. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Counting on it.” The recruiter shook the agent’s hand. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have a few phone calls to make.” He turned to me and offered his hand. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Scott. I look forward to meeting your wife.”

  I did not like his last statement, and I did not want to shake his hand, but I did it anyway, even though no one at River Ranch enacted that gesture. “I am counting on you to uphold your word.”

  The recruiter’s expression turned serious. “Of course. Once Agent Morrison gets the paperwork, we’ll get everything sorted. See you tomorrow.” He walked into the building.

  The agent glanced at a four-door vehicle parked in front of us. “Come on, it’s late. I’ll drive you at least half way.” He walked toward the driver side.

  I hesitated. Weighing the time it would save me getting back to my woman against the safety of letting the agent know the general location of our cabin, I made a decision. He already knew the general location of where we were, and admittedly, I was curious about being inside a moving vehicle.

  The agent paused at his open door. “I promise, I won’t come looking for you in the woods.” He let out a short chuckle. “Trudging through the Glades definitely isn’t on my bucket list.”

  I made for the vehicle.

  The agent nodded and got behind the wheel.

  As soon as I was in the passenger seat and had the door closed, I regretted my decision. The space was much more confining than the cabin that first night and the smell was stale with old food and unwashed bodies.

  The agent turned the engine over as he pulled a strap across his chest and clicked it into place by his hip. “Where am I taking you?”

  Air blew on my face, and I brushed my too-long hair out of my eyes. “Do you know the main road that bisects this one ten kilometers to the south?”

  “Yeah, the one that goes west toward Homestead?”

  I did not know where Homestead was, but I needed to go west. “Yes. Take that road until it ends at the old county road and you can drop me there.”

  I would approach the cabin from the north like we did the first time my woman took me there. That way I could check to see if she had returned there before I went to her father’s property. Even though I told her I did not want her traveling the woods by herself, I was under no illusion that she would obey. My woman was as stubborn as she was capable.

  The agent let out a low whistle. “You walked far today.”

  “I walk far every day.” I had been training my body to be stronger.

  “Good for you.” He pulled out of the parking lot and a beeping noise came from the dashboard. “You need to buckle your seat belt.”

  I pulled the strap on my side and mimicked how he had clicked his into place. The beeping stopped, and for a few moments we drove in silence until the agent spoke up.

  “Mind if I ask you something?”

  “No.” He could ask, I just may not answer.

  “Why the Army?”

  I thought about not answering, about preserving the identity of the one brother on the compound I had respected, but I had already told the agent everything else. I did not see the harm. “One of the brothers on the compound used to be an Army Ranger. I respected him.” It was the simplest form of the truth.

  The agent stiffened in his seat. “You sure he was a Ranger?”

  Mimicking how my woman would raise a shoulder when asked a question she was unsure of, I shrugged. “He shot better than any other brother. He had a stillness about him, was stealth like no other, and he had a peace of mind that was not common amongst the brothers. He was never rash in decision nor temper, and he was intelligent.” I glanced at the agent. “He is the one who made me memorize the address of the recruiter when my birth mother passed.”

  A deep frown creased the agent’s forehead. “Blond hair, brown eyes, six feet, walks with a slight limp?”

  It was my turn to frown. “Those descriptions fit him, yes.”

  “Goes by the name Achilles?”

  My hand reached for a knife I no longer carried in my pocket. “There is a brother by that name on the compound.”

  The agent abruptly pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and looked at me. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “The night I was vanquished.”

  “He was alive?” The agent did not ask the question, he demanded it.

  “Yes.”

  “About thirty-five years old, has a small scar on his cheek?” He pointed to his left cheek bone.

  Fear for the one brother who had given me the will to carry on spread. “Why are you asking?”

  “His name isn’t Achilles. His real name is Lucas John Malach. He was an Army Ranger for a couple years before he was blown up downrange and medically discharged for a leg injury.” Staring at me, the agent paused. Then he threw me. “The FBI picked him up the second the ink was dry on his discharge papers from the military. A couple months later, he was sent in undercover to River Ranch. Six weeks later we got one report from him. He communicated that Stephens named him Achilles because of his limp and that he was getting close to him and to stand by. Next communication he would have more information. We never heard from him again. That was fifteen years ago. He’s been assumed dead.”

  Many thoughts clouded my perspective and I looked out the front windshield of the vehicle. “I do not remember exactly when he came on the compound.” I was young and fearful of not completing my assigned duty as the newly minted digger when the old one had passed. “But I think it was shortly before I was five turns around the sun.”

  “The timing sounds right. How did Malach seem last time you saw him? Was he….” The agent spread his fingers wide and tilted his hand back and forth.

  I did not know the gesture, but I understood the question. “He appeared of sound mind.”

  “Then why the hell would he go off the radar? Was he with a woman?”

  “He was with many women. We all were.”

  “Jesus Christ,” the agent muttered, rubbing his hand over his chin. “I have to ask. Did Stephens get to him? Brainwash him?”

  I looked the agent square in the eye. “River Stephens gets to everyone.” One way or another. “I need to return to my woman.”

  “Understood.” He pulled back on to the road.

  The rest of the drive, he did not speak and neither did I.

  When the road ended at the old county road, the agent pulled over again. “I’l
l be at the recruiter’s office tomorrow by ten a.m.”

  I did not have a watch, nor did I know how to tell time, but I knew enough to know that was before the sun was highest in the sky. We would have to leave the cabin early, but it was doable. “My wife and I will be there.”

  The agent nodded as I got out of the car. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow.” I closed the door and he drove off.

  I waited until the vehicle’s taillights were mere dots.

  Then I tucked the bag of food under my arm, turned toward the open field fronting the edge of the Glades and broke into a sprint.

  She wasn’t at the cabin.

  Unease mixed with the hunger in my gut and I quickly ate one of the sandwiches and drank the water. Leaving the second sandwich for her on the small table, I grabbed the piece of wood I had finished whittling that morning.

  Jagged points in a cascading pattern, it was the image of fire.

  She had called me her earth. I had called her my fire.

  Pocketing the memento I intended to give her, I secured the cabin door behind me and made my way to her father’s property. With every pace along the path we had taken this morning, my disquiet grew.

  But my unease did not become panic until I cleared the woods at the edge of her father’s property and saw a familiar vehicle and two armed men standing in front of the house with weapons at the ready.

  Crouching in the shadows, I took the gun from my back waistband and quickly assessed the situation.

  All the lights were on in the house.

  There were no motorcycles.

  Her father had traveled with only two men before.

  At a minimum there were the two men, her father and her mother, but the vehicle could hold eight men, ten if needed.

  I had fifteen rounds.

  My woman had not come back to the cabin, and the men outside pacing had their weapons in front of them.

  They were waiting for me.

  There was only one option.

  Keeping low and to the shadows, moving slow so as not to make too much noise, I got as close as I could. When I dropped to the ground, the scrub brush rustled and one of the men turned toward my direction.

  Aiming at my location, the taller man looked through his scope. “You hear that?”

  I exhaled.

  The shorter man looked in my direction. “It’s probably a python. You know how many fucking snakes are out here?”

  I pulled the trigger.

  “That’s not—”

  The taller man dropped dead as I sighted on the shorter man.

  “Oh shit. Boss!” The shorter man fired a shot in my direction.

  I pulled the trigger a second time.

  The front door flew open, the shorter man dropped dead and Stone Hawkins came out of the house.

  “Tarquin Scott.” No weapon, Hawkins held up a cell phone. “Your aim precedes you.”

  I sighted on him. “Where is she?” He had five seconds before I pulled the trigger.

  “I think the more important question is this. Do you want to save her?” He moved the cell phone around in front of him. “Or go to jail?”

  Fury, instant and consuming filled my veins. “Where is she?” I demanded.

  Like his daughter, Hawkins shrugged. “She’s not looking good, I can tell you that much.”

  The hysterical woman stumbled out of the front door and lunged for the phone in Hawkins’s hand. “She’s dying! Give me that. She’s dying.”

  Hawkins held his cell phone up higher as he pushed the hysterical woman out of his way. “Make a decision quick, Scott. Go to jail for killing my men, or save Shaila.”

  On her knees, the hysterical woman grasped at Hawkins’s leg. “Call 911! Give me the phone! She’s gonna bleed out!”

  Enraged, my weapon aimed, I stepped out of the brush. “I do not care if I go to jail. If you do not want to die in the next two seconds, tell me what you did to my woman.”

  “I didn’t do anything.” Hawkins glanced at the hysterical woman. “She did. Pushed her off the porch.” He shrugged again. “Apparently you knocked up my daughter, but let’s say her mother took care of that problem.”

  Blinded by fury, I moved.

  I did not see the men at the side of the house. I did not hear the safeties on their weapons disengage. I did not listen to the wailing warning from the hysterical woman.

  I covered the distance between me and Hawkins and pressed the barrel of my gun directly against his forehead. “WHERE. IS. SHE?”

  Holding his hands up, playing me like a fool, he smiled as the cold metal of two weapons hit each side of my temple. “If you kill me, she dies.”

  “What do you want?” I ground out.

  “You.”

  My nostrils flaring, adrenaline pounding, I asked what I should have upfront. “Is she alive?” My own life be damned, if she was dead, I was pulling the trigger.

  “For now.” He lowered his hands. “But not for long if you don’t make a decision. I can send this video of you shooting my men to the FBI agent you spoke to today and have a nice chat with him while Shaila bleeds out. Or? You come work for me, join my club and be my Sergeant-at-Arms, and I’ll call an ambulance to save her life.” He lifted an eyebrow casually. “Your decision.”

  My mind twisted. “How do you know who I spoke to today?”

  He leaned forward as much as my barrel to his forehead would allow. “I know everything that happens in South Florida.”

  A cry of pain came from inside the house.

  I surged forward.

  Hawkins’s hand hit my chest as other hands grasped my arms.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Hawkins warned. “Decision first. Clock’s ticking. She’s been bleeding for a while now.”

  “You planned this.” My jaw clenched, my muscles locked, rage warred with anxiety for my woman’s life.

  “Can’t take credit for this one. Shaila was stupid enough to come check on her mother. I only seized the opportunity.”

  “Call 911!” the woman wailed.

  “I am not working for you. I am committed to the United States Army. If you do not want to die, let me through.”

  Hawkins waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, join the Army, get it out of your system. You’ll learn tactical warfare anyway, which will only make you more valuable to me. Then you’ll come work for me.”

  “I will not.” I glanced over his shoulder. I could not see my woman in the house, but I saw the blood on the floor. “SHAILA!”

  Weak, thready and sounding nothing like my woman, her voice drifted out of the house. “Tarquin.”

  I pressed my gun harder into Hawkins’s head. “Move. Now.”

  A master manipulator, Stone Hawkins dug the last shovel of dirt for my grave. “Come work for me and we’ll take down River Stephens together.”

  “Tarquin,” my woman cried.

  There was no choice.

  There was never a choice.

  I dropped my gun. “Make the call.”

  He did not lower his hand. “Just in case you’re thinking you’ll be able to back out of our deal after your time in the Army, know this.” He waved his phone around and tipped his chin at the men on either side of me. “I’ve got all the evidence I need to send you to the electric chair. You don’t keep your end of the bargain, the FBI gets everything I have on you and on Shaila, including where the bodies are buried that you two left here months ago. It won’t just be you going down.” He leveled me with a look. “Both you and Shaila will be arrested. Do we understand each other?”

  I vowed then and there, no matter what, I would not just kill him. I would make him suffer. “Make. THE CALL.”

  Slow, like he had all the time in the world, Stone Hawkins brought his phone to his ear and smiled. “Bring the ambulance around.” He dropped his hand from my chest.

  I shoved the bastard out of my way and rushed into the house. “Shaila!”

  “Tarquin,” her voice even weaker, she barely got my name o
ut.

  My gaze frantic, I followed the trail of blood.

  When I saw her, the organ in my chest stopped.

  I had been a digger.

  I had seen death.

  I had seen murder.

  I had seen more life’s blood than any one man should ever see in a lifetime.

  But I had never felt it.

  Not like this.

  My knees gave out, and I dropped my gun as I reached for my woman.

  Blood smeared on her cheek, her face ashen, her limbs limp, tears fell from her bloodshot eyes as a giant pool of red lay between her blood-soaked thighs. “I lost him, Tarquin. Our baby, he’s dying. Oh my Jesus, he’s dying inside me. Tarquin, please, save him. Save his soul.”

  Rage mixed with fear and I forced words past my suddenly thick tongue. “I am here.” Her skin cold, her body shivering, I held her to me, and I lied for the first time in my life. “You will be all right. It will be all right.” I had never seen someone lose so much blood and live.

  “Candle,” she cried. “Light a candle for our baby.” She choked. “Save his little soul. Make sure he goes to heaven. Light a candle.”

  Commotion sounded behind me as two men in uniforms rushed into the house. “Move aside, sir. Let us get to her.”

  My arms tightened around my woman. “I am not letting her go.”

  “Candle,” she cried harder. “Candle.” She sucked in a labored breath and all at once, her body went stiff and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “Move, move, move!” one of the men in uniform shoved me aside as the other took my woman from my arms.

  The hysterical woman started screaming. “My baby, my baby! Save my baby!”

  The two uniformed men issued commands and spoke words in rapid succession to each other I did not understand as they pressed a device to my woman’s chest. Cardiac arrest, massive hemorrhage, miscarriage, shock.

  My woman’s back arced off the ground, the men shouted at each other to be heard over the hysterical female, the machine beeped, and they pressed the device to her chest again.

  A voice I did not recognize as my own rumbled from my chest. “What is happening to her?”

  Hawkins nodded at the two men who had held guns to my head. “Get him out of here.”