Chapter 47
"Remington!" Everett bolted through the door. Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice. Relief filled her hazel eyes as tears flowed down her cheeks.
"I'm here." Everett hurried toward her. "I'm going to get you down from this?—"
"Everett," a voice shouted from behind.
A muffled, broken wail tore from beneath the tape covering Remington's mouth.
Everett spun, ripping the gun from his ankle holster. Arms raised high, he pointed the gun toward the voice, but found himself staring down the barrel of his own Glock. And the face behind it was one he knew all too well.
"Faroe, what the hell are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious? Waiting for you," Faroe said, then looked past Everett at Remington.
"Some protector you are." He tsked. "You left poor, sweet Remi alone for hours where she could be captured by ...
" He paused, lifting the Glock to scratch at his temple.
"What did you and Sebastian call me? Inadequate. Inexperienced. Incompetent?—"
"Is this some warped attempt to prove us wrong?" Every muscle in his body tensed as his finger nudged the trigger. "Putting the woman I love in a noose won't gain my respect."
"I don't give a fuck about respect!" Faroe thundered, lifting his other hand, which held a small black remote. "All I want is retribution!"
"Against me?" Everett barked. "For what? I haven't done a damn thing to you, Faroe!"
Faroe's face twisted with rage. "For Yvette."
The name rang through the room, reverberating with a force that stunned Everett. Yvette Toulouse, the Haitian Honey, ruled over one of the most ruthless gangs in the Caribbean.
The case moved through his mind in brutal snapshots.
Haiti. Shipping routes disguised as humanitarian aid.
Kidnapping networks in Port-au-Prince and Cap-Ha?tien.
Front men. Fall guys. Three separate convictions that had all pointed to proxies before Everett proved the real power had been sitting behind the counter of a perfume shop in Pétion-Ville.
Yvette Toulouse had not looked like the center of a criminal empire.
That had been part of her genius.
Soft voice. Graceful hands. Perfume bottles lined like jewels on glass shelves. A woman who made everyone around her underestimate the body count hidden behind the scent of jasmine and bergamot.
Everett had taken her down.
And that case had changed his life.
It had pushed him higher in the DEA. Put him on short lists he hadn’t asked to join. Made senior officials whisper his name when Cedric’s leadership came under scrutiny. Turned one victory into proof that Everett could do it again.
It had also put a target on his back.
"Did you know she killed herself?" Faroe's voice dropped low.
Everett knew what happened to the Haitian Honey almost a year ago.
Her money had dried up. Her lawyers had exhausted all appeals.
She had to face the consequences of her numerous crimes, living the rest of her life in solitary confinement at a supermax prison in Texas.
But instead, she hung herself in her jail cell using the bed linens.
He clenched his eyes shut as he understood what Faroe was doing. Somehow, he learned that Everett had found the evidence that led to her conviction. He blamed Everett for her death and was trying to recreate it with Remington. But why? What was Faroe's connection to the Haitian Honey?
"Why do you care about some drug lord dying?"
"Because I loved her!" Faroe said. "And she loved me. But we couldn't be together because of you. You framed her.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“She was innocent, but you didn't care. All you wanted was to take down a cartel leader. When you couldn't figure out who it was, you manufactured evidence to frame her.”
“Faroe, that woman was a master manipulator. That’s how she stayed on top for so long.”
“You’re a liar! As head of security, I was the only one allowed to visit her. We talked for hours almost every day. She told me everything. I tried like hell to find proof of what you’d done.”
“I did not frame that woman. The evidence was solid?—”
“When I couldn't, she lost hope. She put that noose around her neck and hung herself. I lost Yvette because of you." Faroe twisted the small device in his hand. "Now you will lose Remi because of me."
Everett recoiled. The gun wavered in his palm. Dread clawed and tore at his heart. Not again. This couldn't be happening again.
He stole a glance at Remington. She was trying to be strong, holding onto hope because he'd made it back while there was still time. But the truth was undeniable. Remington's life was in danger because of him.
He was the reason she was tied up with a noose around her neck.
It was Jamaica all over again. Different island. Different monster. Same reason. His enemies hunted her to get back at him. He'd come back too late to stop them. His promises to protect her shattered by his mistakes.
“Poetic justice, don’t you think?” Faroe taunted, raising the Glock to Everett's face.
Everett didn't move.
"You framed Remington,” Everett said, trying to stay calm. "You killed Bobby?—"
"And that bitch Lois, who lied on the stand for you.
Witness Protection couldn't stop me from finding her.
" A hint of a smile curved his lips. "Imagine my surprise when I found the elusive Special Agent Everett Gilliam hiding out on the same islands.
What's the saying? Kill two birds with one ... stone."
Faroe turned the small remote between his fingers. "Slide your gun across the floor. Now!"
"What is that?" Everett asked, training the gun on Faroe's heart. He wanted to launch across the room and body slam Faroe. Every muscle burned with the need to tear the man apart, wrestle the device from his worthless hand, and put a bullet in his heart.
But Everett was trained to calculate odds. Attacking Faroe without more intel wasn’t heroic. It could be suicide for Remington. He had to know what the remote device was before he decided on his next move.
"The reason I don't need this." Faroe shoved the Glock in his waistband.
“Or this.” He gripped the handle of the machete, dangling from a holster around his waist. “I press this device, and the pulley connected to the linen wrapped around Remi's neck will rise.
" Faroe's gaze turned cold. "Would you like to see how it works? "
"No!" Everett said, a rush of adrenaline shooting through his body. "Don't hurt her. I'm the one you want. Just let her go."
"Don't tell me what I fucking want!" Faroe thrust the device high and flexed his thumb over it. "Slide the gun to me, Everett."
Leaning over, Everett placed the gun on the stone floor, then pushed it. The weapon slid the twenty feet until it rested next to Faroe's boot. The man picked it up and secured it in his ankle holster.
"Now, sit on the couch."
Everett followed the directions, easing down onto the sofa where he and Remington had made love only hours ago. Why had he left her? If he had stayed, none of this would have happened. But he hadn't. Now he had to tap into every element of his tactical training and experience to stop Faroe's plans.
He looked up at Remington. She stared back at him with such love and fierce faith that he thought his heart would explode. He loved this woman more than anything. Over his dead body would he let Faroe hang her. He was going to save Remington even if that meant sacrificing himself.
"Fasten the shackles on your legs."
He glanced down at the heavy iron contraptions bolted to the stone floor. Slipping his feet between them, he secured them.
A second set of shackles waited on the couch beside him, attached to a length of chain bolted to the floor a few feet away from each side of the ankle cuffs.
“Wrists,” Faroe said.
Everett locked one cuff around each wrist. There was enough slack to sit upright, but not enough to reach Remington or the device in Faroe’s hand. He studied the anchor plates drilled into the old stone. New bolts. Fresh dust. Thin cracks spidered out from each anchor plate.
He jerked at the restraints. They were strong enough to hold him … for now.
“Take a good long look at Remi,” Faroe said, resting his hands on Everett’s shoulders. “I was in the control room, watching Yvette in her cell when she did it. When she took her life. There was no way I could make it there in time to stop her. No way I could save her.”
The small device pressed against his shoulder under the palm of Faroe’s left hand.
The remote mattered more than Faroe’s rambling and the rage clawing within Everett.
Faroe wanted an audience, and that need might be the only thing keeping Remington alive.
As long as Faroe was talking, Remington was still breathing.
And that bought Everett time to find a way out.
“It was agonizing to watch the woman I love die. But the pain of living without her is debilitating. The only thing that kept me going was this moment. You can’t begin to imagine how that feels. So I’m going to show you.” Faroe squeezed his shoulders, then patted his head. “Eye for an eye.”
Everett’s gaze locked on Remington as her eyes found his.
He let every part of him go still, forced the panic out of his expression.
He gave her the only thing he could. Certainty.
Her life was not ending tonight. This time, he wouldn’t break his promise no matter how bleak the circumstances looked.
She blinked several times as her tears slowed. Her gaze steadied on his, desperate but believing. She trusted him to save her. He wasn’t going to let her down.
The mechanism above Remington gave a faint metallic tremor.
The screech of metal and grinding gears filled the air.
The panel in the ceiling gave a low, grinding click.
The line drew upward. Her body jerked as her feet slipped off the platform.
The noose snapped tight. Her eyes widened, bright with agony and terror.
A strangled sound tore from behind the tape as she writhed and twisted, trying to escape the contraption as it lifted her higher in the air. Her bound feet kicked at empty air.
Everett lunged against the chains until pain tore through his shoulders.
Faroe leaned close to Everett’s ear. “Now you understand.”