Chapter 11
Eleven
ALEXANDER MOORE
My guy was coming to and tried to attack from behind. Prepared, I swivelled on my feet and hit him with targeted blows to the stomach, chest and groin. Aoife let out a scream and I was momentarily distracted. Big mistake. He punched me.
As we struggled, I maneuvered him behind the couch to a dark spot where Beatrice couldn’t catch with the camera in the corner, acting as if the man had managed to get the upper hand for a few moments.
Then, quickly grabbing a pillow from the sofa, pressed it to his face, and threw the man’s rifle out of his reach.
He fought and fought, to no avail. Finally, he went limp and I relaxed my hold.
BANG!! BANG!!
I lifted my head to see Aoife standing over her opponent, stuffing the man’s mouth with the barrel of the rifle I’d just sent sliding across the floor, and blowing his head off.
With speed I’d never seen, she shot the third guy in the chest before he could lunge at her.
Blood sprayed all over the place, over her scant clothing, her skin, her face, marking her features with a war-paint-like pattern that framed a look of intense concentration.
In that precise moment, time stood still. Rifle now at her side, her chest rising and falling, her brows bunched, she looked like a fiery . One I couldn’t imagine ever letting go, even if the thought seemed impossible.
Aoife O’Malley was a sight to behold. I swallowed hard, transfixed while knowing I needed to get a move on.
Had she ever killed anyone before?
She turned and looked out the window, lost in her own world.
Her pain was palpable, and that gave me my answer.
Although she’d just killed two human beings, she did not have the soul of a murderer.
Not like me. Something tightened in my chest. A heart I did not know I had.
Memories of sins that destroyed the man I could have been.
Today would haunt her for a long time. Hardened as I was, I still knew how that would feel, and I hated it for her.
A sound in the distance had me return to the present. That was no animal. Soon, we’d be trapped in here, surrounded.
Struck by an idea, I proceeded to hastily remove my victim’s clothing and put it on me.
Luckily, the man had more or less my build, just a bit shorter.
Putting on his tactical mask, the scent of sweat and death assailing my nostrils, I braced myself before standing and moving once more within view of the camera.
Fast like lightning.
Aoife gasped when I wrapped my hands around her arms like manacles, from behind, my scar carefully hidden. She started to look around.
“Don’t,” I cautioned, and she stiffened.
I saw her throat move as she swallowed. “What did you do … to Alex…” Was that a tear sliding down her cheek.
My insides flipped and dropped, cracking. She wouldn’t cry for me. I wouldn’t believe that, so it was like I didn’t see it.
I checked the weapon lying near one of the men—a modified Glock, full magazine. Pulling her back, releasing her a moment with one hand, I picked it up and slipped it in the holster I’d put on. I yanked her to me.
I squeezed her arm harder and she flinched, then I let out a laugh. "Your lover won’t be rescuing you any time soon, bitch!" I shouted, moving us toward the other window on the rear where the cottage backed against the densest part of the forest. “Any more friends we should worry about?”
Aoife shook her head, terror on her face. I gave a cursory glance to the massacre we were leaving behind.
"Whore," I spat in a deeper voice than my normal while leading her out into the night. “You killed my friends and you’ll pay for that. That’s a promise.”
She screamed when I squeezed her arm so hard this time, it must have hurt like the devil. “W-where is Alex? What happened?” she asked again. Her pitch rose at the second question, betraying a state of panic.
I swallowed.
“Shut up and walk!” I dragged her with me, keeping a tight grip on her, and rushed to the door.
Then, once we were outside, I derailed suddenly and pushed her against the wall to the side—another small blind spot.
I pressed my body to hers and leaned down.
She screamed. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll slit your throat!
” I ground out loud, then slipped the tactical mask up slightly so she could see my face.
Even in the dark, she would realise it was me.
She gasped, and I put my hand on her mouth. “Shhh,” I whispered. “Play along, princess.”
At her almost imperceptible nod, I pushed her ahead. “There. Be quiet, you privileged piece of shit, or I’ll beat you to death.” I leaned down then, bringing my lips to her ears. “I got you, princess.”
She took a ragged breath on the wings of a sob. I could practically hear her heart sewing itself back together.
"They're coming," she whispered.
“Then we better not let them find us.” Then louder, “Move!” I pushed her forward.
"This is insane!" Aoife shouted, her eyes wide. "How much is she paying you? It'll never work." Oh, she could put up an act.
"You’re giving me a fucking headache," I replied, my voice coming out muffled behind the tactical mask.
I adjusted the night-vision goggles that came with it, marvelling at how clearly I could suddenly see in the darkness.
Stopping for a moment, I pulled a cable tie out of one of my pockets and bound her wrists loosely behind her—loose enough that she could slip free if needed.
The night air was cool against my skin as I shouldered the hunter's tactical vest and discreetly checked the other pockets, something I hadn’t had time to do before.
A combat knife. A flashlight. And a sleek digital radio headset with an earpiece and mic.
I positioned it over my ear, hearing the occasional crackle of communication between the other mercenaries. They were coordinating their search, still unaware that a number of their own were down.
"Beatrice will figure it out soon," Aoife whispered, keeping up with me. "The others will get to the cottage at some point and—”
"We have a window," I countered. “A short one.” I had to find a phone and call Coyne at least—get some help as soon as we’d put some distance from the cottage and whatever other bastards were out there.
I tugged on Aoife’s arm, adopting the confident stride of a predator rather than the cautious movements of prey.
Playing the part. We moved through the grounds, my heart hammering against my ribs with each step.
Every shadow seemed to move suspiciously, every rustle in the bushes a potential threat.
The radio crackled to life suddenly. "Sector four, clear," came a gruff voice. "Nothing in sector two," replied another. "Keep looking," came a third voice, sharper, more authoritative. "They can't have gone far."
We kept walking, and I could sense her tension. "Stay calm," I whispered. "We're almost at the eastern perimeter."
That's when I spotted him—a man emerging from a thicket ahead, his mask catching the moonlight. My stomach dropped, but I kept walking purposefully without breaking my stride. Aoife had also seen him.
“Calm,” I repeated.
The son of a bitch raised a hand in acknowledgment, then paused, head tilting as he studied us.
"What have we got here?" he called, his voice carrying in the quiet night. He reached to his face and pulled up his mask.
I deepened my voice slightly. "One prisoner is down and she tried to escape. I caught her," I explained.
“Is he dead?”
I wondered what I should say. If I responded in the negative, it would help to scatter the men and split their attention so I could handle the situation better.
“Not sure,” I replied curtly. “I did not check.”
“Were you—”
“Outside,” I cut in, hoping they wouldn’t give this detail to Beatrice, who would surely smell a rat.
The man’s boots crunched on twigs and leaves. He reached up and touched his radio headset. "All units, this is Mason. I've got one from the team here with the female target. Male target may be loose. Converge on sector three for sweep."
Sweat beaded on my forehead beneath the mask. Mason stepped closer, studying Aoife, who kept her head lowered.
"What's your name?" Mason asked suddenly, turning his attention back to me. "I know the boss lady hired many of us and split us in groups. Don't think we've met directly."
My mind raced. Was there a wrong answer to this question?
"Yeah. I'm Kev," I replied, remembering the common, unassuming name of a kid at my old school. I kept my tone casual. "From the south team. Tracked her through the woods."
Mason nodded slowly. "Kev. Right. South team with Donovan?"
I gave a short nod, gambling on the vague response.
"Good work," Mason said after a moment. "Donovan's been riding all our asses about catching these two, but seems his team got to them first." He paused, then added, "Pretty good that you found her. Where exactly did you pick her up?"
"Western creek bed," I replied, remembering the terrain we'd passed. "She was trying to follow it north. Wasn't hard to track—she left some footprints in the muddy part."
Mason seemed satisfied with this response and turned his attention to Aoife, his posture changing subtly. He stepped closer to her, and I could feel her tense.
"Well, well," Mason murmured, reaching out to roughly lift Aoife's chin. "Not so high and mighty now, are you?"
Aoife jerked her face away, and Mason laughed.
"This one's got spirit," he said, his tone changing to something that made my skin crawl. He turned to me. "The boss lady said to bring them in alive, but she didn't say what condition they needed to be in."
Mason's hand moved to Aoife's arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. "You won't tell, will you, Kev?"