12. Rourke
ROURKE
The chill of the mountain is was nothing compared to the ice that runs through my veins as I step through the door and see the destruction.
The back door has been kicked open, and a pile of snow lies on the floor. Wet boot tracks cover the hardwood, and the closet door is open. Snowmobile tracks lead away from the house. I don’t even have to think to know what happened.
He found her. Damon Vale found Avery, and I wasn’t here to protect her.
My blood scorches through my veins like lava, burning my heart with each pained breath. I let out a primal roar of rage and drive my fist into the wall, shattering a hole in the wood planks.
There’s no sign of her. They took her. She’s gone. I don’t know how they found her, but considering Damon had a mole in the CIA while I was there, I don’t doubt his resources. But the longer I stand here thinking, the farther away they get. I’ve got no choice. I need to find her now.
Adrenaline has me buzzing as I race upstairs and grab the supplies I have ready for a time like this: the rifle I used for all my jobs when I was with the agency and a pistol that conceals easily in my waistband.
I sprint outside and start up the snowmobile.
I gun it, crashing through banks of snow until I’m around the back of the house.
Three sets of tracks. That means any one of them could be waiting for me, camouflaged in the snow with a scope aimed at my head.
My eyes scan the mountain as I speed forward.
This is no time to be worried about my own safety.
It’s my fault they were able to take Avery.
And if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.
They must have been watching the house…waiting for me to leave. And when they saw me head down to the shop, they made their move.
I come up and over a ridge, and the tracks in front of me split off—two headed east and a single track heading off to the west. They knew I’d come back and find her missing, so they’re trying to trick me.
Trying to throw me off. But I know Damon Vale.
Even if I never caught him, I chased him for years.
Blood boiling, I follow the western track.
Most bosses would be sure to bring one of their men with them.
Someone expendable. Someone to take fire for them if necessary.
But not Damon. Damon’s ego is monumental.
He thinks he can take on anybody. That’s how he built his criminal empire.
But if he thinks he can handle me after kidnapping the love of my life, he’s seriously mistaken.
I follow his trail down the slope, up and over another ridge, and that’s when I see it. A helicopter, all black, its rotors already spinning. And right beside it, two men, restraining a screaming, panicked woman.
Avery.
I grind to a halt and lift my rifle to my shoulder.
Looking down the scope, I feel something in my heart I haven’t felt in years.
Fear. Not for me, but for my love. For Avery.
I watch her thrashing against the cold grip of the men at her side as they haul her to the open door of the helicopter, and it hits me.
If I fuck this up, I’ll be the one who deserves to die.
But that’s not going to happen.
Returning to my training, I push aside all emotion, all thought, and take a deep breath.
Calculating for distance and wind, I take aim at the man to Avery’s left.
He turns, and when I see his face, my jaw drops.
Colin Fischer. He worked at the agency when I was there—when we were hunting Damon. He’s the mole!
Then, slowly, as I release the breath, I squeeze the trigger.
The silenced shot sounds like the hiss of a snake. A second later, Colin spasms and drops like a sack of potatoes.
I rack the slide on my gun, but it’s too late. They’ve spotted me.
The other man whirls and points. “There!”
Avery’s pained voice rings out. “Rourke! Help me!”
The other man shoves her into the helicopter and starts to climb in behind her. I fire a second shot that misses his leg by a hair’s breadth.
“Shit!” I curse, slinging my rifle as I plunge down the hill, ripping the throttle of the snowmobile’s engine past the redline. I have seconds before they take off and she’s gone forever.
Everything is tight inside me as I speed forward, snow spraying in my face, stinging my eyes. Sitting in the pilot’s seat is a dark-haired man in a pinstriped suit. He’s grinning like a bastard.
That’s him. That’s Damon.
Drawing my pistol, I spray shots at the helicopter, punching holes in the metal surrounding the gas tank. I have to do something to keep them from taking off.
The sound of Avery’s voice crying out again stabs me in the heart. I shout in response and skid to a halt just a few feet from the chopper. But as I hop off, the barrel of a gun emerges from the door. I don’t even have a second to react before a bullet tears through my shoulder.
The force of the impact whips me around. I drop face first into the snow, pain burning through me.
“She’s mine now, Rourke!” a voice calls out. Damon.
Coughing, I stagger to my feet and look up to see Avery’s face staring back at me. The bag’s gone from her head, and her eyes are bloodshot. Tears stream down her face as she calls my name again.
“Rourke, please!”
The edges of my vision start to darken. The man behind her takes aim. In a moment, I’m going to be dead. But I don’t want my love to see what’s about to happen.
“Close your eyes, baby!” I call out. And like the good girl she is, she does.
The man fires.
I drop to one knee just as the bullet whizzes past my ear, nearly taking my head off. Raising my pistol, I fire back, dropping him. Things start spinning as I race toward the chopper. My head’s spinning as I leap through the door, only to find myself face to face with the barrel of a pistol.
“You just don’t know when you’ve lost, do you?” Damon Vale asks, his voice dripping with arrogance, acidic like a poison.
“You’re…not taking her,” I manage to groan as my vision continues to darken.
Damon laughs. “She’s already mine. Bought and paid for.” His eyes darken as he thumbs back the hammer on his gun. “Time to die.”
Avery cries out from behind me. “No!”
I squeeze the trigger.
The last thing I see before I pass out is her leaping forward at him. The last thing I hear is the explosion of his gun.