Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
Hunter
Chaos bathes in blood.
I owe Fox everything. The pilot next to me didn’t bat an eye when I turned up as his co-pilot, and the passenger sitting behind us was too busy snarling instructions into his phone to pay attention. Does the person on the other end of the call know he’s minutes away from entertaining his sick desires? Maybe they do. Maybe it’s his wife, and she’s thankful it isn’t her. Not everyone can be a hero, and most people look after themselves first, even knowing others will suffer in their place. They reconcile it with excuses that they aren’t strong enough to stop it even if they wanted to, but in reality, they’re terrified of the consequences of failure.
Not my little hacker. She strides into danger like she’s born from fire. She expects to get burned, using it to fuel her resolve instead of destroying her strength. I just hope I’m not too late. I shake my head. I can’t be too late. I can’t imagine a world without her.
The pilot communicates with the boat in the distance, and my breathing slows as we approach our destination. Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I take in his strength and training. This isn’t his first time flying a bird. I’ve been reassured I can trust him, but in this world, you learn to not trust anyone. That’s how you stay alive. After going through the normal flight checks I would do before landing, my hand skims over the gun holstered at my ankle, as well as the knife strapped to my chest. The plan is to take this fat balding businessman to the ship, then we’ll wait while he picks a new victim. His visits are always scheduled for two hours. Apparently, he likes to take his time ensuring the toys meet his very specific criteria. All eyes will be on him. Us pilots won’t be paid more than a cursory glance so long as we stay put inside the helicopter.
Familiar ice washes over me, and I allow the numbness to take control, bringing my vision and mission into crystal clarity. We drift lower the closer we get to the boat, bloodlust tinging the edges of my vision. A storm brews in the distance—dark, menacing clouds rolling in as Mother Nature gathers her forces to witness the end of a reign of terror.
The boat is huge. Terrifyingly so. I expected a yacht with all the bells and whistles, but this one holds multiple shipping containers. It’s closer to military grade than pleasure cruising, and my jaw ticks. It’s both clever and diabolical. Jonathan has done an amazing job ensuring very few know of his operation out here. The more elite you make it, the more you can charge. My hands tighten into fists as the enormity of my task stretches out ahead of me. Many of these victims will have been born and raised in the cult Eleanor escaped. They’ve never known care, love, comfort, warmth, or freedom. They don’t know there is a whole world of possibility waiting for them. They don’t know most people aren’t out to hurt them.
Our passenger ends his call and chuckles, lounging back in his seat. “Happy wife, happy life. Right, boys?”
“Indeed,” I answer, my voice distorted through the headset. Will she be happy to receive the call her husband is at the bottom of the ocean? I’d be ecstatic.
He rubs his hands together as we touch down on the landing pad, nearly uncontainable glee radiating from him. “Ah, can’t wait to see what he’s got in stock for me.”
I almost break my cover and murder him before the door opens. Almost. Just the thought of him touching either of the women holding my heart is enough for my rage to burn through my cool, collected surface. Not yet.
He slips out the door as the pilot kills the engine, clearly comfortable in Jonathan’s domain. Two men stride forward to greet him, but no one I recognize. Good. I need them to give me some space to work. Two others march forward. One stands at the front of the helicopter, facing away from us, his hands loosely folded behind his back, his feet shoulder width apart. He’s trained, which could be an issue. I stretch in my seat, using the side mirror to check my six. The other guy standing at the back is also facing away, but he’s restless as he surveys the ocean, shifting his weight between his feet as if he’s already bored of his task less than sixty seconds into it. A smirk loosens the muscles of my jaw. He’s an idiot.
“Is that normal?” I ask Mike.
“Yup. They make sure we don’t get any stowaways.”
“You wearing the vest Fox sent you?”
He pats his chest like he’s forgotten, his face gaunt. “I am.”
I watch the path the buyer takes out of the corner of my eye, trailing him into the first container. A viewing room? Or do sex traffickers sit down and share a scotch and cigar first while they congratulate each other on being the worst of humanity?
“Does he always take the full two hours?”
“This one? Yes. I think he samples them.” Mike pales at his own words.
“What does he have on you?” It’s clear he’s not doing this willingly.
He squints at the guard in front, his body eerily still. “My wife and daughter.”
“He has them?” The blood drains from my face. Eleanor and Steph have only been missing a few hours. I can’t even imagine knowing Jonathan had them permanently.
“No,” he breathes, his eyes closing in exhaustion and pain. “He has their names, addresses, their routine, where they get their nails done. The route my daughter runs every other day.”
That’s terrifying, and a classic example of reconciling doing something terrible in order to save the few you love. “When this is over, I’ll make sure you are relocated, safe, and well looked after.”
Mike turns to me, his hazel eyes hard as he slides a photograph from a pocket in the ceiling. His thumb rubs over their faces. “Kill him, end this,” he jerks his head toward the floating slice of hell we’ve landed on, “and there will be no need.” He points at the pair of smiling women, his hand shaking. The youngest has his eyes. “If you fail, I’ll be dead, and they will wish they were. So don’t fucking fail.”
Now I have two more lives to fight for. I bob my head in acknowledgement before slipping free onto the tarmac. I slink to the rear and snap the neck of the first guard with ridiculous ease before moving around to the side of the helicopter. He’s barely moved an inch. Observant. Precise. Deadly. All traits I recognize, because they’re the same ones I honed over years. I wonder if our paths ever crossed; there aren’t many men like us. I wonder how he lost his way from protecting and serving the innocent, to hurting and looking the other way as monsters kill them.
I do, however, have the advantage. He doesn’t know I’m here. He has no reason to believe they’d be an attack from his blind side—not with the pain and suffering he’s surrounded with. The best chance of success would be to shoot him from here. I wouldn’t miss—I never have—but I don’t know if it will create a swarm of men, and I am only an army of one. The clock is ticking, and I don’t have any more time to waste on indecision.
I slide my knife from its sheath, the whisper of metal lost on the breeze as I sneak up on silent feet. My heart pounds in my chest, the same rush I experienced countless times on the battlefield falling over me like a familiar blanket. I still hate it. I never enjoyed this part of my life. The killing. The pain. I’m damn good at it, but it ate away at pieces of myself until I hid fully behind my cover, reveling in the chance to be someone else.
Then Steph was attacked, her pain hidden, and I found a new purpose for my rage and guilt.
Lunging forward, my blade slides along his arm as he spins, impossibly fast, and catches my wrist in an iron grip. His eyes spark with excitement and recognition while my stomach clenches at my own stupidity.
I should’ve recognized him.
We were paired together overseas, and when I was pulled home, he was left behind. I’d heard stories of how our mission ended, but never got the full details. Gone is the warmth always present in the eyes of the man I used to call a brother. I don’t know this man. Not anymore.
Supporting my arm, I fight against his strength as he tries to dislodge my fingers. With a growl, I kick him in the chest, forcing distance between us and giving me a chance to reassess. So much for the element of surprise .
“You’ve changed, King,” he taunts, pulling his knife from his gear. “Hopefully, you haven’t gone soft.”
Our attacks are fast and brutal, filled with glancing blows brimming with power and leaving behind a shower of sparks. The tip of his blade catches my cheek, my block a fraction too late. Sinister glee lights his eyes, and I know . I see the demon in him craving blood and pain. I see him, and I know there’s no saving him.
Another flurry of fists and blades sends a knife skidding across the deck and under the helicopter, the two of us staring in shock as blood blooms along the deep cut along his throat. His eyes widen as he clutches the wound, dark ichor oozing between his fingers as he collapses to his knees. We stare at each other in a tense standoff, the light draining from his eyes as a pool grows beneath him. He slumps over, the sound of his body hitting the deck drowned out with the low rumble of thunder on the horizon.
I wipe my knife on his shirt with a pang of sadness to see such skill wasted because of greed. After casting a surreptitious glance around, I pick up his feet and drag him toward the edge, pushing his body into the ocean before doing the same with his partner. I can’t take the chance of someone tripping over them and raising the alarm.
Mike gives me a thumbs-up from the chopper, and I hurry across the landing pad, keeping my head down. When I reach the first container, I inch my head around the corner, finding the walkway empty. Gritting my teeth, I press my ear against the metal door, hoping to glean some indication of what waits for me inside. But between the noise of the engine and the power of the ocean pressing against the ship, I can’t hear shit. I pull my gun from its holster and slip the safety off. My best tactic is surprise. I won’t get caught again; in that moment where the enemy tries to understand what the fuck is happening, they will have already taken their last breath.
My hand presses the handle down slowly, inching open the door to reveal an inner set of walkways, one straight in front, the other looping to the side. Straight ahead gets me to the other side of the ship, but my gut tugs me to the left the second I step forward. Guess we’re going around then.
My footsteps are silent as I poke my head into open containers, finding them all empty. Where are they? My brow lowers as I check each and every space, finding nothing. It’s as if the ship is abandoned. This next one feels different. Ominous. I step inside the open door, and my gaze zeroes in on the naked figure lying on the floor. Dark long hair, matted with blood, sticks to the ground, and my heart thrashes in my chest. The buyer we flew in leans heavily against the wall, a look of bliss on his face as he struggles to catch his breath. No. I don’t accept it. Without looking away, I shoot the bastard in the chest, no longer caring if I give my presence away. I step closer and gently move the hair from her face. Guilt mixes with relief at the unfamiliar face. I thank the stars it’s not Eleanor or Steph lying dead before me.
I’m getting toward the end of the ship now, and still no sign of either of them. We didn’t get it wrong. Eleanor and Steph have to be here somewhere. The little I understand about this man is his pathological need for control. Gail explained the bits she’s gathered over the years, betting her professional opinion that wherever Eleanor is, Steph will be. Jonathan knows he can control her through their connection, and he wouldn’t be willing to give up his trump card just yet. It saved me precious time and resources as I was torn on whether to let others come rescue Eleanor while I searched for Steph myself, or vice-versa. It’s an impossible quandary. Do you save someone you love, or the someone you’re in love with?
At least the motherfucker hasn’t made me choose yet.
The end of the path opens up to the massive bow of the ship, and I freeze at the scene before me. I fucked up. My eyes trace the trap I walked into without thinking twice. I got cocky thinking I could roll onto this boat and infiltrate an operation like this without backup or preparation. I let my heart rule my head, and now it may very well cost me both.
“What a fitting end to your little love affair, Mr. King,” Jonathan declares from his position at the base of the raised deck. Guards stand at his shoulders, guns gripped tightly in their hands. Eleanor stands to one side, naked, bound, but resolute. A lioness refusing to be tamed. To the other side is my sister, still clothed, but also bound. Her gaze finds mine, and she offers me a small smile before her eyes drift out of focus. I grit my teeth, panic battering at the ice surrounding me. That’s not good.
“I’ve alerted the authorities,” I shout, my voice nearly lost in the wind. “They are on their way to raid your ship.” Technically, Fox is on his way with the authorities to make sure they don’t fuck up the raid.
Jonathan shakes his head, a saccharine smile stretching across his face. “I’m aware. You think you can take apart my empire, boy? Bigger men than you have tried and failed. All they will find is a huge ship with a heartbroken biker clutching one of his women as he sobs for the other.” He stretches his arms out, a look of pride on his face. “We will all be gone, my new wife included, and all you will have succeeded in doing is making me your enemy.”
I don’t doubt he is about to take Eleanor, not Stephanie.
“Leave them both with me, and I won’t pursue you.” Today.
He chuckles, resting his hands on his hips. “You don’t frighten me, Mr. King. However, I don’t have time for a tiresome battle with the Desert Reapers, and whoever else William will rally around him, which is the only reason your bloodied corpse isn’t being thrown over the edge for the sharks to pick at.”
I take a step closer, but Jonathan raises his hand and snaps his fingers, stopping me in my tracks as I slide the knife out of my belt, palming the hilt. Waiting. The men next to Eleanor and Steph loop rope around their necks and tighten it enough to ensure they can’t slip free as chains clank along the deck, slowly lifting.
“This is really a gift for you, Stephanie,” Jonathan declares, his eyes tracing her figure with a bored look. Rage burns in my soul, but I’m proud when she simply glares at him.
Jonathan raises his hands, and the ropes begin to draw upward, the slack quickly disappearing as the chains wind into the shipping container crane. The blood leeches from my face as I realize what Jonathan’s plan was all along. I frantically search for a solution, desperate to find a path in this impossible situation. The twine is thick, and while my knife is sharp, it won’t be quick enough to release them.
“It takes nearly four minutes to die from hanging if you don’t snap your neck.”
Eleanor rises on her tiptoes and stares straight into my eyes. “I love you, Hunter King, with my whole heart. But choose her. I’ll be okay.” Her watery smile cuts me to the bone. “We’ll meet again. Just look up at the stars.”
Like fuck, Eleanor. You’ll be standing right beside me.
Jonathan shakes his head, his eyes dark, heated, savage, as they follow the curves of Eleanor’s body. “She’s quite something. Do you know how many people I’ve killed who beg for their own lives, even at the cost of someone else’s? Yet, here is the girl I raised, offering you her forgiveness because she knows you won’t pick her. Blood is thicker than water, as the saying goes. Pity her blood ties are weak.”
Eleanor’s eyes flutter closed as the rope lifts her off her feet, Steph a few seconds behind her.
Jonathan smirks, stopping them a few feet off the ground. Close enough to salvation, but still miles apart. “You can save your blood or your love. But not both. By the time you’ve released one, the other will be dead.”
“I don’t believe you,” I snap, my icy fa?ade fracturing.
He cocks a brow, unbothered by the life leaking out around him. “Is that so?”
I lift my chin at Eleanor. “You’ve craved to own that woman all her life. It’s why you chose her, punished her. And it’s why I know your intention is to take her for yourself.” Please let Gail be right.
He tilts his head and eyes the thunderous clouds. “True. But watching you fight your feelings is the most fun I’ve had in years, which is a good consolation prize. Women like Eleanor are a dime a dozen.”
It’s been thirty seconds since their feet left the floor. If I kill Jonathan, then his men will put a bullet through my head and both women before I can blink. I force a deep breath, thinking about all the variables, all the connections, as if I was a part of Eleanor’s wall back in Chicago. If Jonathan truly believed his own bullshit, he wouldn’t have risked coming into my territory to get her.
He wouldn’t have set up such an elaborate game for us to play.
“Tick tock,” he taunts, waving a hand lazily in the air. “Indecision will leave you with two bodies, not one. Then who will mend your broken heart?”
I inch closer. Stephanie’s eyes are vacant, staring straight past me in a look I swore I’d never see again. Eleanor, in contrast, stares straight at me like I hung the moon and the fucking stars despite believing I won’t choose her. I do not deserve this woman. But I vow to spend the rest of my life trying to be the man she thinks I am. Three minutes left. It’s enough. I will save them.
Dropping my knife, I twist my body and run toward Eleanor, wrapping my hands around her calves as I take her weight. Pulling the trigger, I kill the man next to Stephanie before snapping my elbow back and breaking the nose of the asshole behind me. I shoot him in his chest, his eyes fixed unseeing at the churning sky, then turn my gun on Jonathan who is holding Stephanie’s legs and giving her more time. Smart fucking man. Now he’s the only thing standing between my sister and death.
He throws his head back and laughs like he’s having the time of his life. “I did not see you picking the lovely Eleanor! James, I lost the bet. How much do I owe you? One girl? Three? I can’t seem to remember.”
Her brother emerges from the container I came through moments ago, his body relaxed and his steps silent. He must have been behind me the entire time. In another life, he would have made a good soldier. There’s no mirth on his face though. Pain, anguish, and determination flash across it at rapid speed—the same look Eleanor gets when she’s decided something is happening come hell or high water.
James’ gaze flicks to mine as he comes to a stop.
“What do you propose? Mr. King is waving that gun around and forcing me to keep his pathetic sister alive.”
James doesn’t move.
Jonathan’s face twists, his mask finally cracking as rage takes hold. “Take his gun,” Jonathan snaps. “I want to be off this ship in five minutes. I don’t have time to pay off the authorities right now.”
James wets his lips and turns his tortured gaze on me. “Shoot him.”
My shoulders stiffen, silence blanketing us as his words ring across the water. “I won’t risk her.”
“You ungrateful little shit,” Jonathan roars.
“You have my sister; trust me to get yours. Shoot him.”
My eyes search his, seeing so much of Eleanor in him. I lift the gun just as Jonathan darts to the side, which I anticipated. My bullet catches his shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground with a pain-filled groan. James wastes no time grabbing Steph’s legs and taking her weight, the two of us staring at each other as thunder continues to rumble along the horizon.
Two brothers, two sisters. How fucking poetic.
Jonathan scrambles to his feet and skulks off around the corner, blood dripping behind him. I no longer have a line of sight on him. “Where did you go, coward?” I shout, painfully aware of how unprotected the four of us are here on his perverse stage.
His laughter rings out above us. I look up to see his shadow looming near the controls, but he’s not stupid enough to show his face. “A little less slack on these ropes should do the trick.”
James’s panicked gaze collides with mine. If he pulls them so they are out of reach, they will die. I shift Eleanor in my arms, tossing my gun down and reaching for my knife when a scream of unadulterated rage cuts through the air. The sound, full of loss, pain, terror, and grief, stops my heart, and stillness surrounds the ship.
“Katherine, what the fuck?—”
“You’ve taken too much from us. I won’t let you have any more.”
Two bodies sail over the railing, my breath catching as Jonathan and a thin woman in a gray dress arc through the air. They hit the deck, the crunch of bones and a morbid tangle of bodies a backdrop to this horror show I never expected.
Footsteps thunder down the ship, and Fox skids to a stop at the standoff before him.
“Who do I kill?” he snaps, looking at James.
“Not him. Not yet.” I haven’t decided his fate, and I don’t think it should be up to me. “But check the asshole under that woman is dead.”
Fox nods at two men I recognize, and they run up the steps. He approaches the bodies and bends to gently pull the woman off before pushing his fingers against Jonathan’s neck.
“He’s alive.”