24 - Andre
~ 24 ~
ANDRE
She was a trooper, I had to admit. Jocelyn’s face registered no emotion, no surprise, not even a hint of the anger and confusion that undoubtedly boiled beneath that pretty blonde head. I knew on the inside she was screaming — especially after what she’d seen in the kitchen last night. But she’d boarded this morning without even a word. She’d spent the whole trip the same way, staring silently out at the white-capped sea. She hadn’t even asked why Kayden wasn’t with us.
For that, I gave her a lot of credit.
The two men who rode to town with us were Troy and Damien. They were security hires, but that’s all I knew about them. They stood there stoically, sizing us up, taking us in. After agreeing upon a time to meet back at the dock, they slipped into the streets and melted into the early morning crowd.
A full minute of silence passed before we finally spoke.
“Alright,” Jocelyn spat acidly. “Out with it.”
Bishop and I glanced at each other awkwardly. This time she wasn’t having it.
“Don’t even tell me you’re not telling me anything,” she seethed, “not after locking me in my room all night. I had no food. No water. No fucking idea what the hell was happening.”
“Jocelyn—”
“Not one of you came to see me, either,” she went on. “I stayed up all night! I drank from the bathroom tap, and ate half a bag of trail mix I scrounged up from the bottom of my bag, from the last time I packed for vacation.”
“We would’ve—”
“Called me?” she scoffed. “For some weird reason I had no phone service. I had service all week long, no issues, but last night — nothing.”
“That’s the signal jammer,” I said. “It went up yesterday.”
She blinked in even more confusion. “What? Why?”
“Because they’re taking every possible precaution,” said Bishop. “It’s what they do.”
Jocelyn’s expression was one of borderline madness. She wrung her hands.
“WHO?”
“Blight.”
Bishop shot me a questioning glance, but I waved him off.
“Who the hell is Blight?” Jocelyn demanded angrily.
“They were a mercenary outfit,” I went on, without a hitch. “Now they’re a crime syndicate. It happens sometimes. And when it does, it’s never good.”
Her pretty eyes fluttered over to Bishop. They had a long history, the two of them. And for some strange reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on, that history was making me fiercely jealous.
“He’s right,” Bishop affirmed. “We worked with them back in Jordan, when they were legit. Then… something happened. Something bad. And after that—”
“They fell into some really foul shit,” I took over for him. “Most mercenary groups eventually disband, but not Blight. The founders left, but they went on too long. Three very rich, very powerful men took over, and started using them for the worst kinds of things. They hired thugs instead of soldiers. They took jobs no respectable military outfit would ever consider.”
“All this, and you work for them?” Jocelyn asked incredulously.
“No,” Bishop snapped quickly. “Not even close.”
“So then why are you—”
“Because we owe them one,” I said, trying not to snarl. “And we came all the way out here to pay them back.”
Jocelyn’s hair swirled in the morning breeze. It bounced all about her porcelain face, obscuring whatever expression I was trying to read.
“If you’re going to tell her, tell her everything,” Bishop urged. “Don’t half ass it. We owe her that much.”
My heart sank at the thought of revising the memory. But he was right, of course. Besides, revisiting the memory was the one way to make sure the details never faded. As jagged and painful as those details were.
“We were on the outskirts of Tafilah,” I began slowly. “Our squad was tasked with protecting a high-level target: some worthless civilian VIP, who’d gotten himself into a shit ton of trouble. Of course, his trouble became our trouble. But we were Marines. That was the job.”
Bishop nodded curtly. Knowing he’d been there made it an easier story to tell.
“Our group got pincered, and we ended up in a mountain stronghold, surrounded by rebel fighters. Luckily, we had specialists who rigged the place with defensive ordinance; Rangers, recon scouts, even SEALs, who’d dropped in. The whole thing was JSOC from the beginning. Highly specialized, and—”
“Don’t confuse her with all the jargon,” Bishop warned.
“— and sterilized,” I finished.
Jocelyn squinted against the wind. “Sterilized?”
“Sterilized meaning classified to the highest degree,” Bishop stepped in. “As in nobody knows we’re there, because we’re not supposed to be there. So if anything happens…”
“You weren’t there.”
Bishop folded his arms and nodded.
“But you were there,” Jocelyn went on. “And then something happened. Something… bad.”
I lowered my chin for a moment. When I looked up again, the snarl on Bishop’s face mirrored mine.
“Tell me,” Jocelyn urged. Her voice was gentle now. All the anger and accusation was gone from it. “Please.”
“There was a double-cross,” I sighed. “Blight was there too, and we were glad to have them. But they were so far up the VIP’s ass, they’d given him command authorization. Turns out they were in bed with him, and we didn’t know it. He decided to bug out in the middle of the night, without telling any of us, and when the rebels took a shot at him, he triggered every one of the explosives to create a decoy.”
“Shit,” Jocelyn murmured softly.
“Yeah. Shit.”
Her face was solemn now. Her rosy cheeks, somber.
“How many died?” she asked.
“Eleven in total,” said Bishop, “and another seven fighting our way out of there. Six from our own squad. The very defenses designed to protect us blew up in our faces. All because some dumb fuck got antsy while trying to cover his ass.”
Jocelyn’s pretty hazel eyes dropped to my arm. I watched them move slowly over my shrapnel marks, before shifting to Bishop.
“That’s how you got these scars,” she swore, pointing. “All because of him. The VIP.”
“And Blight,” I added. “But yes. And now that VIP is one of three big dicks in charge of Blight, having driven the rest of the old guard away. They call themselves the Founders, even though they’re not. And although very few people know anything about them, they’re still three of the most powerful — and hated — men in the world.”
I scratched at my arm, which still itched from time to time. But always when I recalled what happened.
“So you’re here for revenge,” Jocelyn theorized.
“Is that so bad?”
She took a while to shrug. “No, but—”
“The Founders keep to themselves, on opposite ends of the world,” said Bishop. “They do this for safety. If you were to cut one of the heads down, they’d only grow a new head.”
“Like the hydra,” offered Jocelyn. “In Greek mythology.”
I nodded, thoroughly impressed. “In the story of the hydra, two heads would grow back for every one you cut off. But yes, it’s a lot like that. Which is why the three Founders are never in the same place at the same time. Except for the rare occasion, once a year, when they meet—”
“They’re coming today,” she breathed. “Holy shit.”
“Which is why we had to get you out of there,” Bishop explained. “As quickly as possible. The airport’s running again, and your flight should be—”
“What about Kayden?” she asked abruptly. “How’s he involved in all of this?”
“Kayden’s the one that got us in,” said Bishop. “They’re so paranoid, they rotate the help. And with him being an executive chef, it was just a matter of putting him in the right place at the right time.”
It was making it sound easier than it was, of course. And less dangerous.
“So neither of you are chefs, are you?” she sighed.
“No,” I admitted. “But they don’t know that.”
“Once Kayden was hired and vetted,” said Bishop, “it was a simple matter for him to bring us on.”
Jocelyn looked away for a moment, back in the direction of the island. I already knew what she was thinking.
“So who’s that woman with him?” she asked, her voice faltering. “Evelyn, I think you called her?”
“She’s a Blight operator, working with Raif,” I explained. “And she’s not ‘with’ Kayden.”
She scoffed. “She’s not with him right now?”
“Well, technically yes. But she’s not with him, with him.”
“Sure as hell seemed like it while he was kissing her.” Her tone was angry now, but also hurt.
“He wasn’t kissing her,” Bishop countered. “She was kissing him, and he was, you know, just going along with it.”
At that, we both frowned at him.
“Alright fine, maybe he was kissing her back. But it’s not like he enjoyed it.”
The frowning continued. He was really blowing it.
“Fine, maybe he liked it a little bit,” Bishop conceded. “I mean, who wouldn’t? She’s an attractive woman,” he shrugged. “Not nearly as beautiful as you of course,” he added hastily, upon seeing the look on Jocelyn’s face. “But—”
“Look, it’s no secret she likes him,” I said, somewhat consolingly. “They’ve met three times so far, and lucky for us she’s been into Kayden from the beginning. It’s helped build their trust in him. He’s been playing it up with our blessing.”
“He’s using her,” Bishop agreed. “That’s all it is. Using her for information, so we can get the jump on things.”
Was she looking at us differently now? I didn’t think so. But those pretty eyes were no longer focused. They were more distant, as if searching for answers. Or searching inward.
“You need to know we’d do anything to get within striking distance on Blight,” I assured her. “And ultimately, the Founders.”
I touched her hand, and Jocelyn returned to the present. Looking up at me, she shifted from one hip to the other. “Anything, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, then,” she said, dropping her bag theatrically. “Use me. ”