Chapter 17
Coop
“This year’s prey is the lovely Mia.”
Oliver’s words hit like a sledgehammer to the chest. Everything slowed—the excited murmur of the crowd, the shift of bodies pressing closer to the stage, Oliver’s colorless eyes tracking over Mia with predatory satisfaction. My mind couldn’t process what I’d just heard. Wouldn’t process it.
Prey.
They wanted to hunt her. Hunt Mia like an animal through the Montana wilderness.
My body moved before conscious thought kicked in.
I pulled her behind me, muscle memory from a hundred combat situations taking over.
Put myself between her and the threat. As if my body could shield her from more than a dozen armed men.
As if standing in front of her would change what Oliver had just announced to a room full of sick fucks who were practically salivating at the prospect.
The burgundy silk rustled as she pressed against my back.
Her trembling traveled through the dress and into my spine, fine vibrations that told me she was barely holding it together.
Her fingers clutched at my suit jacket, twisting the expensive fabric hard enough that it would probably never lie flat again.
“No.” The word came out low, dangerous. I pushed through the crowd, pulling Mia with me, heading straight for Oliver. “There’s no fucking way.”
Oliver watched me approach with that cultured smile, like he’d been expecting this reaction. Hell, he’d probably been counting on it. Entertainment within entertainment.
“This isn’t happening.” I stopped directly in front of the stage, close enough that I had to look up at him. Seven feet between us, him elevated three feet on the platform—positioning designed to establish dominance. I didn’t give a shit. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
“I don’t think so.” Oliver’s voice carried that reasonable tone that made my hands itch for my Glock. Behind him, Bishop’s hand moved to his sidearm—subtle but clear.
Metal whispered against fabric. Snake had drawn his SIG Sauer, not quite pointing it at me but making the threat crystal clear. The weapon held low, finger indexed along the frame—professional ready position.
To my left, Diesel’s scarred face split into an eager grin as he pulled his own gun. Even Tommy, that worthless piece of shit, had his hand on his Beretta, trying to look dangerous instead of like a kid playing soldier.
“The hunt will proceed as planned.” Oliver stepped to the edge of the stage, looking down at me with clinical interest. “Mia will serve as this year’s prey. That decision is final.”
“I said no.”
“And I’m saying your opinion doesn’t matter.” His focus shifted past me to where Mia stood. “The only choice you have now, Coop, is whether you participate in the hunt or whether we lock you in the lodge while the others enjoy themselves.”
The word enjoy made bile rise in my throat. I knew exactly what these men would do if they caught her. Behind me, I heard Mia’s sharp intake of breath—she understood too.
I cataloged exits, weapons, defensive positions.
Even if I could get to my Glock, even if I dropped three or four of them before they killed me, there were too many.
Too many guns, too many angles, nowhere to run.
The compound was surrounded by miles of unfamiliar wilderness. And nobody was coming to help.
There was no way out except through. Fuck.
“Perhaps an explanation of the rules would help.” Oliver’s voice carried to the entire room, though his focus never left my face. “For those unfamiliar with our tradition.”
He turned to address the crowd, but Bishop and Snake kept their weapons ready, their attention locked on me. Snake had shifted two steps left—covering my nondominant side. Bishop maintained his position at Oliver’s six. Professional positioning. These weren’t amateurs.
“The rules are elegantly simple.” Oliver’s voice took on a professor’s tone. “The prey retains her current attire—in this case, that lovely burgundy dress. To make things sporting, she receives a one-hour head start. She may run as far and fast as she wishes, or hide wherever she chooses.”
Volkov stepped forward from the crowd, his sharp features showing the first real emotion I’d seen from him—hunger. “How large is the hunting ground?”
“The entire mountain. Forty thousand acres of wilderness.” Oliver’s smile widened. “Though, historically, prey rarely makes it past the first valley.”
One of the Japanese buyers—the older one with yakuza tattoos barely visible at his collar—nodded approvingly. “And the boundaries?”
“Natural terrain provides them. Cliffs to the west, river gorge to the north. East and south are open.”
They were discussing it like a business transaction. Logistics and parameters while Mia stood behind me, shaking.
“After one hour, the hunters begin tracking.” Oliver continued, clearly enjoying his role as master of ceremonies.
“The first to catch the prey with his own hands claims victory. No weapons permitted—this is a test of strength, cunning, and will. The victor keeps his prize for twenty-four hours to do with as he desires.”
My vision went red at the edges. Twenty-four hours. These sick bastards would have twenty-four hours to—
“What about medical attention?” the Hong Kong buyer asked, his English heavily accented. “If the prey is…damaged during capture?”
Oliver’s laugh was soft, refined. “We’re not monsters. The prey’s survival is guaranteed. Their comfort, however…” He let the implication hang.
My hands curled into fists tight enough that my knuckles cracked, the sound sharp in the sudden quiet.
“Additionally,” Oliver continued, “should the prey evade capture until noon, she wins her freedom. Though I should mention that in the five years we’ve held this tradition, that has never once occurred.”
“Because the prey gives up?” someone called out.
“Because they’re caught.” Oliver’s tone held absolute certainty. “Every. Single. Time.”
“This is bullshit.” The words scraped past the rage choking my throat. “You can’t—”
“I can and I will.” Oliver’s gentlemanly mask slipped for just a moment, showing the monster underneath. “Unless you’d prefer we make this evening’s entertainment more…immediate? I’m sure the men would enjoy that option as well.”
The threat landed like a grenade. Play along with his sick game or watch them assault her right here, right now. Several of the buyers shifted forward eagerly at the suggestion. Diesel actually licked his lips.
“Besides, Coop…” Oliver’s conversational tone returned.
“Your impressive display at the shooting contest earned you a ten-minute advantage. You may start the hunt ten minutes before the others.” He tilted his head.
“You could use it wisely. Or perhaps you’d prefer to trade that advantage?
I’m sure someone here would pay handsomely for those extra minutes.
I know I’d be interested in your price.”
“Fifty thousand,” Volkov said immediately. “Cash. For your ten minutes.”
“Seventy-five,” the yakuza buyer countered.
They were bidding on her. Bidding on time to hunt her down. My finger twitched toward my concealed carry—fifteen rounds in the Glock, one in the chamber. I could take seven, maybe eight before—
“The advantage isn’t for sale.” My voice came out steady despite the rage.
Oliver chuckled. “Such loyalty. How touching.”
Shit. This was not helping my cover. The Coop they knew wouldn’t hesitate to take that much money for a woman he claimed to have only known a few days.
“Nothing to do with loyalty. Has everything to do with beating you bastards.”
“Five minutes until release,” Oliver announced to the room. “The prey may leave whenever she wishes after that, but every second she remains here counts against her hour.”
Five minutes. Jesus Christ, five minutes to figure out how to save her life.
“After release, all hunters will return to their quarters to change into appropriate attire.” Oliver continued. “Then reconvene here forty-five minutes later to prepare to begin the hunt exactly one hour after the prey is released. Except for our contest winner, who may begin ten minutes early.”
The crowd dispersed slightly, men already discussing strategy.
“She’ll head for water,” one buyer said. “They always do.”
“Nah, she’ll go uphill,” Snake interjected, holstering his weapon but staying close to me. “Try to find a defensive position.”
“Ten bucks says she doesn’t make it past the tree line,” Tommy added, trying to sound experienced.
Diesel laughed, harsh and ugly. “Hundred says I’m the one who catches her. Them long legs won’t help when she’s tired.”
I turned, pulling Mia into my arms and away from the others, where we could talk with a measure of privacy. She looked up at me with eyes gone wide with shock, her face pale and bloodless. The burgundy dress that had made her look so beautiful now seemed like a target painted on her body.
“Listen to me.” I kept my voice low, urgent but controlled. She needed me steady, needed me confident, even though my mind was racing through possibilities. “You need to stay calm and focused. You can do this.”
“Coop—” Her voice cracked.
Something clicked in my mind—the deer blind. It was the only place where…yes. An idea crystallized, risky as hell but better than nothing.
“When Oliver releases you, when you run out that door, you go straight to the deer blind at the edge of the property. Remember? Where we uploaded the transmission two nights ago.”
Her forehead creased. “But they’ll find me there if I just hide—”
“You’re not hiding there. As soon as the hunters head back to change, I’ll meet you there. You and I will come up with a plan. Use those few minutes while everyone’s getting ready.”
“I can’t—” She stopped, swallowed hard, forced herself to continue. “I can’t outrun them for hours. Not in the dark. Not in this outfit—”
“Hey. You’re the strongest person I know.” I gripped her shoulders, gentle but firm. “Remember what you survived before. You survived that, you can survive this. I know you’re scared, but we’re going to make sure nobody but me captures you.”
She straightened slightly. Even terrorized Mia was a fucking warrior.
“The deer blind.” I pulled her close, speaking directly into her ear. “I’ll be there just a few minutes after you. I’m getting you out of this.”
“How?” The word was barely a breath, but I heard the desperate need to believe.
“Trust me.” It was all I could give her. I didn’t have specifics yet, but I’d figure it out. I had to.
“Time’s up!” Oliver’s voice rang out. “It is time for the hunt to begin. The prey doesn’t have to leave at the moment of countdown, but every second you remain is a second of your hour wasted.”
Mia pulled back, looking at me one last time. Her honey-brown eyes held trust I didn’t deserve, faith that I could save her. But then something shifted in her expression—a hardening, a decision being made.
“If you’re not there in five minutes,” she said quietly, “I’m not waiting.”
I wasn’t offended. As far from it as possible. Mia was nobody’s damsel. If I couldn’t help her, she would damn well help herself.
And I was fucking in love with her. Had always been. The years apart hadn’t changed that; I’d just tamped down the feelings so I wouldn’t have to deal with having lost the best thing that had ever happened to me.
I wasn’t losing her again.
Oliver started counting. “Ten…”
Her fingers released my suit jacket, and I saw her gather herself, pulling together every scrap of courage. Her spine straightened, chin lifted. Not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“Nine…”
She turned toward the door.
“Eight…”
She took a step, then another, each one more determined than the last. The burgundy dress swayed with her movement.
“Seven…”
The crowd parted, creating a path to the door. Someone whistled low and appreciative. I marked the voice—I would deal with that later.
“Six…”
She moved through them with purpose, not scurrying like a frightened animal but walking with her chin up.
“Five…”
She reached for the door handle without hesitation. Behind me, Volkov murmured something in Russian to his men. Two of them laughed.
“Four…”
She yanked the door open, cold mountain air rushing in.
“Three…”
She looked back once, finding my eyes. No goodbye in that look. Just fierce determination. A promise that she’d fight.
“Two…”
I nodded. She was stronger than these bastards knew.
“One.”
She ran into the darkness, the burgundy dress disappearing into the predawn shadows. But this wasn’t the panicked flight of prey. Her stride was measured, controlled. She was thinking, not just running.
The door swung shut with a definitive bang. At least Oliver wasn’t cheating by allowing us to watch which way she was going.
“Gentlemen,” Oliver announced, checking his Rolex, “you have exactly forty-five minutes to prepare. Appropriate footwear and clothing. Of course, I trust everyone will respect the traditional spirit of the hunt—man against prey, as nature intended.”
So no night vision goggles or thermal binoculars that detect surface temperature heat. That was good. More fair.
But then again, I didn’t trust Oliver any more than I could bury him.
The crowd began filing toward their quarters, excited chatter filling the air. Diesel lingered near me.
“Better get ready, Coop,” he said, those dead eyes studying me. “Your ten extra minutes won’t mean shit if you’re not prepared.”
As the room emptied, I stayed where I was, watching Oliver descend from the stage with Bishop flanking him. He paused beside me.
“You know,” Oliver said conversationally, “the last man who looked at me the way you are right now ended up in several different zip codes. Literally.”
“Noted.”
He smiled that cultured smile. “May the best hunter win.”
That was damned well going to be me.
I turned to find Snake still there, leaning against the doorframe.
“She’s got nice legs,” he observed, lighting another cigarette. “Shame they’ll be all scratched up by the time someone runs her down.”
I moved before thinking, crossing the distance in two strides. My hand closed around his throat, slamming him back against the wall hard enough to rattle the windows.
“Touch her and I’ll kill you.” The words came out calm, matter-of-fact. “Not eventually. Not cleverly. I’ll rip out your throat with my bare hands.”
Snake’s scarred face showed no fear, just amusement. “Better hurry and catch her yourself, then.”
He was an asshole, but he was right about one thing: I needed to fucking get going to meet Mia at the deer blind. I released him and walked out, heading for my cabin. Behind me, his laughter echoed through the empty hall.
I was going to kill every last one of these motherfuckers. But right now, I needed to focus on getting Mia out of this or making damn sure I won this hunt—by any means necessary.