36. Kade
36 KADE
I wipe my hands and emerge from the lower deck of the boat.
Flecks of dried blood coat my arms, my shirt, my pants.
It’s hidden on my black clothing but stands out like a sunburn on my skin.
Artemis and Saint wait for me at Bobby’s Eats.
He’s returned to the marina for the night and seems to have no problem entertaining my guests on his houseboat.
They’re seated at the same picnic table Artemis and I sat at the last time—granted, there is only one, but still.
I take a knee out of sight and scoop salt water in my cupped hand, splashing it along my arms. I use the stained cloth to scrub and dry them, satisfied that Bobby won’t ask any questions about the state of my appearance.
Finished, I tuck away the cloth and wave to Bobby.
He’s just now serving them food, and I let myself onto his boat with a smile.
Shrugging off what I just did and turning on the charm takes practice, but I fall into it with ease.
It’s that permanent switch from work to civilian life that doesn’t work so well.
Charm is just a bravado anyway.
“Hey. How’d it go?”
Artemis chews on her plump lower lip.
She and Saint sit across from each other, and choosing who to sit beside is…
well, not quite the no-brainer.
I want to feel her pressed up against me, but I also like poking the tattooed man’s buttons.
And he doesn’t seem to like physical contact.
Not from me anyway.
It’s why I drop into the space beside him.
I spread my legs until my knee brushes his, and he recoils.
I smirk, then announce, “I’ve got a location.”
Bobby returns with a bowl for me.
Today, fishnet tights cling to his tanned legs, with black cargo shorts over them.
His white button-up shirt is covered in orange and blue birds.
His hair is up in a bun on top of his head, and the fallen pieces at his nape are caught in the hairnet he always wears.
His style is distinct, and I struggle not to laugh at the way Saint appraises him.
If only I had been here for his reaction when they first saw him…
I thank Bobby, pay him for the food, and he retreats back into his houseboat.
I dig into the nachos.
He’s covered the corn chips with pulled pork, cheese, and a mix of other stuff.
Corn, black beans, salsa, guacamole, sour cream.
“You’ve got a location?” Tem asks.
“And you’re eating?”
“Torture makes me hungry,” I say through a mouthful.
Saint frowns.
“What?” I knock my knee into his again.
“Did you think I was going to ask him nicely? You wanted to find Reese. This is how we do that.”
“Okay.” Tem swallows.
“Okay, fine. Where are they?”
I don’t answer until I’ve eaten most of the nachos and drank most of the water Bobby brought with it.
Artemis’s burger is three-quarters gone, and Saint’s paper plate is empty.
Satisfaction fills me that they were able to put aside their queasiness over what has to be done.
It’s like this in war, too.
Eat when you can.
Sleep when you can.
I wipe my mouth and drop the soiled napkin into the bowl.
“There’s an abandoned church up near the reservoir,” I say.
Artemis groans.
“What?” I glance at Saint, then do a double take.
The bastard is naturally pale—it makes his tattoos, which climb up his throat and frame his sharp jaw nicely—but right now, he’s downright green.
“The Titans held him there,” Artemis manages.
“You don’t have to go.”
Saint shakes his head.
“No. If you’re going…”
“It was blown up,” Artemis adds.
“Unless it was rebuilt.”
I take in that information.
I didn’t get a lot from the asshole in the boat—just the location and a general idea of the layout—but what the fuck goes on in this city?
Gang wars, people being taken, buildings blowing up?
“We were rescuing Saint,” Artemis says.
“We blew up one of the propane tanks to cause a distraction and get a clean escape.”
“Clean,” Saint repeats.
“I don’t remember the clean part.”
“You were stabbed.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course you don’t remember it.”
He idly rubs at the center of his chest.
I stand.
“You two should stay, then. And I will go collect Reese.”
Here’s the part where I don’t give them a chance to argue.
I get up and hop over the side of the boat onto the dock and stride back to my car.
I get there and slide into the driver’s seat, locking the doors right as Artemis and Saint arrive.
They both pull at the doors, and I give Tem a look through the window.
She can’t come.
Saint can’t either.
Knowing what I know now, they’d just be liabilities.
While they both held their own in the bar—and the little goddess even going feral, which went straight to my dick—I can’t risk it.
Their states of mind could be the difference between surviving and dying.
Not an option when it comes to Reese.
I’m going to get my former friend back, and my debt will be square.
I take my time picking through the forest. Three times, I have to hide myself from men patrolling.
If they’re out this deep in the woods, it means there’s more at stake than just one man being held hostage.
Hostage .
No one has demanded ransom, which kind of negates the hostage theory.
Reese doesn’t have any money to his name anyway.
It’s why he’s so good at staying undetected.
He has a single bank account that receives a government check once a month, that he occasionally draws cash from in Emerald Cove.
Other than that, no credit cards, no mortgage or rent, no car.
There’s another use for hostages, though.
To protect themselves from an outside force .
And this double-edged sword is a message to us.
I reach the tree line and eye the sloping ground down to the church.
It’s not so much a church as a warehouse, everything shiny and new.
Fresh wood beams, a metal roof and siding.
The smell of sawdust lingers, as well as traces of the heavy equipment they must’ve hauled up here to handle construction.
There’s deep grooves in the dirt along the side.
I check my night-vision goggles.
They paint the world in gray-green, and I crouch while I watch the building.
It’s quiet, which is fine by me.
My weapon gets a once-over next, and then I move from my position.
I scramble down the slope and stay low until I get right up to the building.
The door is unlocked, and I step through fast, gun raised.
I swing the goggles up, the hallway lit well enough to see.
A line of fluorescent tubes hung at angles down the length of it.
Someone rounds a corner, and I fire without a thought.
I don’t fucking care about killing someone—and he would just as soon shoot me for intruding.
My gun’s suppressor dampens the noise, but it doesn’t fully eradicate it.
A shiver of sound echoes down the hallway, and the man drops a second later.
I step over him, sparing only a glance for the bullet wound that found its mark in the center of his forehead.
After a long moment of silence, I grab him and drag his body with me.
I can’t have him discovered before I’ve completed my rescue mission.
I follow the path the man on the boat described, to a stairwell that goes down.
I leave the man tucked in the corner, behind the door and out of sight.
The stairwell deposits me into another hallway that’s nearly identical, minus the knowledge of being underground.
It smells older here, the air humid.
There’s a long row of closed doors on my left, and more to my right.
I check each one as quietly as possible, clearing the rooms until I reach one at the end.
The door is made of metal, and the handle doesn’t move.
Which is usually a sign of something valuable behind it.
I kick at the door on the side of the hinges, and they give way easily.
I burst into the room, clearing the corners, before turning my attention to the man hanging in the middle of the space.
His wrists are bound and attached to a hook over his head, although it’s low enough that he sags on his knees.
His head is bowed forward.
He’s shirtless, and his brown pants are stained in dark blotches down his thighs.
I lift his head by his hair and stare into the face of Reese Avery.
He’s not conscious—doesn’t appear to be anyway, unless he’s faking—but there are still little scowl lines between his brows.
“Come on.” I hoist him up, undoing the chain from the hook.
He weighs a ton, but I get him over my shoulder.
It feels too similar to how his attacker carried him.
Except I don’t have the ability to throw him in a trunk—we’ve got to escape to the woods.
My nose wrinkles. He smells of sweat and the sour stench of fear.
Who knows what happened here?
I carry him back up and stop at the mouth of the stairs.
The man is still there, dead and out of sight.
I glance up, and a camera with a blinking red light catches my eye.
I flip it off and continue.
Double time, now, jogging out of the warehouse and forcing my legs to drill into the ground faster.
Up the hill, into the trees.
We stop twice more to evade patrols, but they don’t seem to know what’s happened.
They’re not on high alert, they don’t even have radios to check in with each other.
My unease is sharp and hard to ignore.
I move more cautiously back to my vehicle.
It’s parked near the waterfalls—not where I met the sheriff but farther up, tucked out of public sight on a near-invisible service road.
I set Reese down on the backseat, positioning him so he’s horizontal.
The time to check him for injuries will come soon, but the pressing urge to get out of here is a gut instinct I cannot shed.
So I do.
On the road, I dial Artemis’s number.
Another gift from the sheriff.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” I say.
“I have him.”
She exhales.
“Thank you, Kade. Can you bring him?—”
“My house,” I interrupt.
She’s quiet.
I wait it out as we bump along the gravel ruts.
I readjust my rearview mirror to see Reese, wincing when his head bounces on the seat.
He’s fully limp but still breathing.
That’s the important part.
“Okay,” she finally says.
“See you there.”
I hang up and hit the gas.
My vehicle groans in protest, and my tires skid on the loose rocks around a corner.
There’s no one chasing me, but I drive like an asshole down through South Falls anyway.
The warehouse district is quiet, the roads nearly empty.
I take my time winding back up to the main road that will take me to the heart of Sterling Falls, and then continue past the university north.
To the house I’ve been calling home.
All the while, Reese doesn’t so much as fucking stir.