Chapter 8
Hades
In the moonlight, I slip into Persephone’s room. A bright strip of light illuminates her torso as I approach on silent feet. She’s stretched out on her back, one arm flung over her head, her face twisted away so that it lays in shadow.
Usually I would stop, take pleasure in the fact that the thin ribbed camisole she is wearing has slipped down ever so slightly over her breasts, nearly exposing her ripe nipples to my gaze. I would definitely at least take a moment to appreciate them, maybe even become silently aroused.
But tonight, I move stealthily through her room, one eye on her open window. I crawl onto the bed next to her warm, sleeping form and fit my hand over her lips.
Persephone comes awake in an instant, a protest rising on her lips, her hazel eyes already wide and fixing on my face. I bring my finger to my lips to shush her.
“Shh. Dinnae make a fuss. There are men with guns coming to the house.” I pause, glancing over my shoulder. Always alert, always listening. “We have to go.”
Persephone sits up, pushing my hand aside. She tugs her camisole up, casting a fearful glance at the window. “Who are they?”
“I dinnae ken.” I shake my head. “Maybe Constantine's men. Maybe someone else who wants to fuck with me. Ye get used to being on the run and not knowing exactly who is chasing ye after a while. Now hurry— “
I get up, pulling back the covers and baring her body. She is wearing nothing but the camisole and a pair of lacy black panties. Again, at any other time I would be riveted by her near-nakedness.
But there isn’t time. It’s been about three minutes since my security system beeped, alerting me to two boats full of men dressed all in black, stealthily dropping onto the shore.
Since they dropped anchor at the far end of the island instead of at the nearby dock, I am willing to bet that they don’t know the layout of the island.
“We have about twenty minutes to find our way off the island. Maybe thirty, at the outside. Which means we have to move now.”
She swallows. “How do you know?”
“Security cameras. Ever since ye slipped out onto the beach, I’ve had the motion sensors turned on.
” I lean over, tugging at her wrist as I stand up.
“Come on. Get dressed. Wear layers.” I think about that for a second, then refine my instructions.
“But dinnae overdo it. If ye fall off the boat, I dinnae want ye sinking like a stone.”
Persephone licks her lips and casts an anxious glance at the window again. “Okay.”
She disappears toward the closet. I cup my hands around my mouth, trying to project a stage whisper. “Meet me at the front door when yer ready.”
I head downstairs into the living room, my whole being on edge. I’m ticking off the list I’ve made as I go straight to the safe, which is hidden behind a large painting of the sea.
I grab four large black duffels that I brought from my room.
Into them, I load the contents of the safe.
Bags of diamonds. Half a dozen complete sets of false identification bearing my picture.
Several bills of sale for properties that I have amassed around the world but simply haven’t been able to send to the bank in Zurich yet.
And then almost four million dollars in pound, euro, and dollar denominations. I zip up the duffels and slip one onto my back.
The other three I can carry with some difficulty. I carry them over to the front door, waffling. I think I can carry them down to where I keep my small, sleek powerboat with some effort.
If we are chased or somehow bogged down in the middle of our trek down to the boathouse, though… I do some quick reorganization, making a throwaway duffel bag full of heavy paper cash.
Persephone appears in the entryway door, her dark hair pinned up in a bun, heavy lines under her eyes. She heeded my instructions in dressing, seeming to be warm but not too over bundled.
“Are they close by?” she asks. She tiptoes to the small window just beside the door and peers out.
“Dunno.” I shake my head and lift the duffel bags. “I dinnae plan to stick around and find out. Will ye get the door?”
She jumps to pull the door open, sticking her head out. I crowd her out the doorway, my ears pricking up.
I scan the dark palm trees, the scrub brush, the sand dunes. It makes me anxious, knowing that they are there and not being able to pinpoint their exact locations.
I don’t hear the men approaching yet, either. Then again, that was probably their intention. I think of the security camera app on my phone, wishing I didn’t have to carry so much. I can’t manage my phone and the duffel bags.
My eyes slide over to Persephone. I drop a bag, grab my phone, and swipe the screen to let her see the bank of screens.
“Here. Hold onto that. It should keep us from running into the men.”
Persephone swallows and nods solemnly, giving a distinct shiver. “I will.”
“Good. Let’s go,” I say, jerking my head toward the boathouse. “We’re going to head down this path.”
She looks at the cell phone screen, nodding as she presses a thumb against it to keep it awake. “I’m following you.”
I nod, heading away from the mansion and toward the beckoning trees. The tree cover is light, and it will not really do much to obscure us from view. But something is better than nothing in this scenario.
We make it to the trees and start down the little rutted path worn into the scrub brush. I keep checking behind me, making sure that Persephone is keeping up with me. Every time I glance back, she seems glued to the phone screen. She trips over a branch, stumbling, and I slow down.
“Sorry,” she mouths, her face tense. “Go, go.”
We’re almost halfway down the path when I hear Persephone suck in an alarmed breath. I glance back, my steps slowing. She looks up, her face seeming to pale in the light of my phone screen.
“Men at the house,” she says, her voice low and fervent. “It’ll only take them a minute to realize that we are gone. We have to go faster!”
I step aside, waving her ahead of me. “Go. Go!”
She tucks her head down and stops looking at the phone. I follow her steps as she makes her way down the sloped terrain, cramped by the close scrub brush on both sides.
All I can hear for a couple of minutes are the sound of Persephone's breaths and that of our bodies as we knock tall grasses and brush back out of our way.
We burst into a clearing and the rusting old boat shed is there, a rickety little dock protruding from the white sandy beach just beside it.
The dock itself is probably only fifty feet long, the little shed just big enough to hide my small powerboat.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest as we rush toward our obvious exit.
Persephone breaks into a trot, slipping and sliding as we make our way across the sand to the dock. I’m slower for some reason, my footsteps more hesitant. My eyes fix on the darkened doorway of the boat shed.
Is that normally closed? I can’t remember but it gives me pause.
Then just before Persephone steps on the dock, I hear something.
It could be nothing. After all, we are outside now and all I heard was a very gentle rustle that came from the same general direction of the silent boat shed.
But something in me, some lizard-brained instinct, makes me freeze. I hiss at Persephone.
“Stop— “
But it’s too late. She turns to look back at me, stepping onto the dock, her face a question mark. At the same time, two hulking men in matching black hoodies and pants run out of the boathouse.
Fuck.
I drop the bags, pulling out my gun. The weight of the weapon feels heavy and cool and oh so right in my hand.
Persephone swings her gaze to the two men and lets out a fearful, excited yip. She tries to backpedal, her slight weight on the docks enough to make the old, slatted wood groan.
The two men seem a little surprised to see Persephone and I, but in two seconds flat, they lunge for her.
“No!” Persephone whispers, trying to dodge around them.
One of the men calls out. “Down here!”
I aim at him and my gun fires, neatly dropping him where he stands. He falls into the water with a messy splash, but I have already forgotten him.
Because the other man has his hands on Persephone, yanking her closer. I fire a haphazard round which misses him completely and he turns, pulling her up as a human shield.
“I got them!” he yells. “I got— “
Persephone lashes out, struggling and biting his hand. The man falls silent, trying to keep her under control. He pulls out his gun and brings her to heel with it, but she doesn’t stop squirming.
Good lass.
I raise my weapon and run a few feet to the side, drawing a bead on him.
I fire again but the gun jams.
“Fuck!” I grit out, tossing the weapon aside. I pull a pair of brass knuckles and a switchblade from my pocket, picturing the backup guns in one of the duffel bags. I hear men come crashing down the ridge behind me, pinning me in from two sides.
It only takes me a split second to calculate that I can’t reach them in time. Instead, I lurch toward the dock, where the man is currently dragging Persephone backward toward the shadowed door.
“Get in here,” he growls.
Her only answer is to struggle against him more violently. I make it to the dock just as he backs her into the doorway.
If they disappear inside, what should I do? I need a gun, I realize.
Turning away from them, I swing my gaze wildly toward the men on shore. One black-clad man is much closer to me than the rest, his facial expression pure determination.
When I turn around and careen towards him, surprise flickers across his face. It only takes him a few seconds to raise his gun and fire at me.
Once.
Twice.
He’s a bad shot. But I lunge for his body, closing the gap between us in another fifteen seconds. I grab the gun with my left hand and force it up, then sling my arm around his body, stabbing him viciously and repeatedly in the lower back.
His breath seizes and I use that momentum to overpower him, pulling the gun away from him. He blinks, stunned, and starts to fall. I pull my knife blade free in a gory, blood drenched mess. Then I drop my knife in the sand and grab the extra ammo from his belt.
That’s the point at which the men in black uniforms clamber closer.
“Don’t kill him!” I hear. I don’t even have time to process what that could mean, though.
Without even thinking about it, I shoot three men dead where they stand. A fourth yells and tries to tackle me but I take him out, too.
Three men are trying to watch me as they huddle close to the duffel bags that I dropped on the sandy beach. As one of them unzips the bag, I shoot at him, but I miss.
I let the magazine slide free and reload, counting men. There are at least ten of them and I have no more than six bullets left.
I have to make a decision, then. Is it better to have Persephone with me or to have the bags stuffed with money and gems?
In an instant, I know what my answer is. Money is a constant thing in my life and nearly always replaceable.
Persephone, though… I need her, for the time being at least.
I aim and shoot down the closest thug, backing away toward the dock. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boathouse door open. Persephone shoves the man who was holding her out the door. He isn’t motionless or anything, it seems like she just caught him off balance somehow.
She looks at me, her breathing ragged, and brandishes his small black gun.
Oh, fuck yes.
I lick my lips, aiming and firing my gun at the guys on the beach. I hit five of them, killing three.
“Give me the gun!” I shout, holding my hand out flat.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she slaps it into my palm. I take aim at the remaining men on the beach, killing three more. Their bodies make soft sounds as they hit the sandy beach, dead before they hit the ground.
The other men look at each other, apparently making the same decision. They pull back as a unit, retreating up into the scrub and trees.
I pretend to give chase, barreling up the beach toward them. I can hear their frantic footsteps as they retreat through the bushes.
Stopping as soon as I reach the duffel bags, I scoop them up and awkwardly sprint back toward the dock. The guy that Persephone disarmed struggles as he heads up to the shore.
“I wouldn’t,” I comment out of the side of my mouth. But I dinnae wait to see what he does.
No, I run down the rickety dock, toward the doorway that Persephone waits by. I barrel past her and inside the boat shed. My big, dark boat takes up nearly all of the room in the little shed. I throw each of my duffels on board and turn to Persephone, my heart pounding.
She’s already clambering on board, which makes my stomach do a quick flip flop. I step over and give her a boost. She climbs in, darting a nervous glance at the two seats and the bow.
I leap into the boat, jam myself behind the steering wheel, and start the engine. Persephone sits down heavily beside me as I throw the boat into drive.
I glance at her as I nudge the boat out of the little shed, busting the doors open.
“Hold on, sweetheart.”
I crank up the speed and the boat takes off.