Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
B oone could picture his brothers, all gathered in the main house, having a glass of Wyoming Whiskey Single Barrel Straight Bourbon, while talking over the day. Maybe even heading to the parlor, as his granny had insisted they call it, to shoot a game of pool.
And where was he? On some god-forsaken island in the Kurils off the coast of Japan, freezing his ass off in his night camouflage. Even with the thermal wear he wore while keeping the cattle fed and watered in negative twenty degree weather back home, the waterlogged air of the island soaked into his bones.
Only someone as crazy as Nico Midnight would put a compound on an island with four active volcanos. The least he could have done was build the thing on the windward side of the island where winds were chilled by the Bering Sea and Northern Pacific. Stupid fuck could care less that the visibility was higher over here. He considered himself untouchable, but the Cosa Nostra encroaching on either the Russian Bratva’s or the Japanese Yakuza’s, whichever was currently controlling the island, territory was one step away from suicide.
Maybe he should have tipped them off and let them go to the trouble of fighting over who would take Midnight out, but this was personal. Boone was taking care of this himself. Midnight might believe he was untouchable, but he’d be finding out he was wrong when Boone put a bullet in his head.
Boone studied the night sky. The stars were in a different place than on the ranch, but he’d spent enough time on cattle drives to gauge by the moon it was somewhere close to ten o’clock. After crossing the island's rugged mountain terrain during the day, he’d fought his way past the layers of security. Now he stood just inside the entrance to the empty courtyard of Nico Midnight’s medieval mansion.
Stealing through the shadows, he crossed the courtyard and entered the outer vestibule. Had the guards he’d shot on the beach had time to warn anyone he was coming before he took them out? He had to assume they did. Scanning the area and not seeing anything suspicious, he followed the main hallway deeper into the castle until it dead-ended into another. Which way now?
Being in the right place at the right time guaranteed his success in accomplishing his mission. Midnight had to pay for everything he’d done. An eye for an eye, that was the Cosa Nostra way. At least, it was the Midnight way. Boone believed in that, too, so he would be doling out retribution with the man staring down the barrel of his rifle.
Midnight had taken Cara. Snuffed her out of existence and laughed as he drove away. Now it was time for him to pay. He wanted every emotion he’d been forced to witness in Cara’s eyes playing out in Midnight’s. Only he’d be able to see the life drain out of them, too. For Cara.
Swapping out his rifle for his Glock, he checked that the magazine was full and settled his stance, ready for whatever waited for him around the corner. Crouched low, his breathing sped up. He hated blind corners, especially in a den of Cosa Nostra vipers.
He spent most of his days on the ranch in wide open spaces. Running black ops in the special forces had forced him into too many tight places with precious few ways to dodge the bullets coming at him. He’d left damn near claustrophobic. It was one of the four hundred ninety-nine thousand reasons he loved his ranch. Wide open space extended in every direction. With the average population spread out to 6 people per square mile, he could breathe.
The fact that he was willing to spend the three weeks it would take to cross the ocean going home proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he wanted Midnight dead by his hand. Dreams of this moment, the day he would serve justice to the butcher who’d taken everything from him in the span of one stray bullet, had kept him going for the past three years.
Some people would call his dreams nightmares. But none of those people had the woman they loved stolen from them on the malicious whim of a mafia thug.
Finger on the trigger, he edged close to the corner and peered up and down the hallway. Empty. The next hallway proved empty as well. Where the hell was the security that should be canvasing the halls?
After slowing his breathing to listen for footsteps, nothing caught his attention at first. The draft caught in the medieval stone hallways moaned like a distant, high-pitched wail. Wait, that was a wail.
Skimming the wall of the corridor with quick steps, he moved closer. As he turned another corner, the faint sounds of a woman crying became unmistakable. He scanned the hall for guards, then gave the sound his full concentration.
What the hell? Boone shook his head and listened again.
That was definitely a woman crying somewhere nearby. Every protective instinct in his body sprang to life. The last thing he’d expected was a woman inside the compound. Midnight had ironclad rules about women in a “man’s domain.”
That was another Cosa Nostra way. Unless they were brought in for his men’s recreational purposes. God help whoever she was if that was the case. Very few made it out, and if they did, they’d be so severely abused they never recovered. From the cries of pain and fear now echoing down the passage, this woman wasn’t there by choice.
“He’s going to kill you for this!” the woman shouted, followed by continued sobbing and a man’s deep laughter. Boone pushed back against the anger surging through him at the fear in the woman’s voice.
Definitely not here by choice.
If there was one thing his dad made sure he and his brothers did, it was to treat the women in their lives with kindness and respect. He followed the sound until he came to the door standing between him and the crying woman. The thick wooden door couldn’t block the crack of a hard slap, followed by a pained scream and more sobbing.
“I’m dead when he sees the bruise on your face anyway,” a man said.
Boone recognized that voice. That gravelly tone and fake Italian accent belonged to one of Midnight’s commanders , Ottavio Moretti.
“The way I figure, I might as well have some fun before I die. If you’d been nicer, we could have had a good time. Now, I’m going to have to be rough. Which suits me fine, little mouse, but you will enjoy it much less.”
Boone squeezed the butt of his weapon. Squeezing the throat of the man inside that room would be much more satisfying. He’d love to see how good Moretti was at taking a small portion of the abuse he enjoyed dishing out to people who couldn’t fight back.
“If you weren’t such a big coward, you’d let me go,” said the girl. “Are you scared of me or something?”
Boone couldn’t hold back a grin. The woman was reckless, but he admired her grit. Of course, if she were his, he’d be tanning her bottom for putting herself in even more danger with her taunting. She was waving the proverbial red flag in front of the bull.
“Hardly. But why waste this opportunity to get to know you better?” The sneer in Moretti’s tone grated on Boone’s already frazzled temper. “When the Boss arrives, you’ll be glad someone has already had you. He’s not nearly as gentle as I am.”
Boone might be here to kill Midnight, but he was saving a round for this asshat. Still, he couldn’t help but admire the woman’s defiance when she shouted, “I don’t like you. You’re not supposed to touch me. And I’m telling that Boss guy everything you’ve done when he gets here.”
Chuckling, Moretti said, “Be my guest, topolina . I won’t be here when the Boss arrives. Now, I think it is time you use your mouth for something better than talking.”
“Stop!” the girl screamed. “Don’t do this! Please!”
That was followed by the ripping of cloth and another scream.
Pure rage plowed through Boone. The door at the far end of the passageway that probably led to the roof and landing pad for Midnight’s helicopter mocked him. Everything inside him fought to keep to the mission. He should make his way to the roof and rid the world of Nico Midnight.
Cara deserved to be avenged. And he damn sure deserved to be the one to avenge her, to gain some semblance of resolution and peace. He’d failed her, failed to live up to the PJ creed to “be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties so that others may live.” He was the ranking member of the team, so the blame was his. Now, he finally had the chance to give his team a resolution.
But that wasn’t who he was. What would he do to the man who walked away if his sister was the one unfortunate enough to be trapped on the other side of the door with Moretti? There was no way he could walk away from the woman behind that door and leave her to her fate.
Maybe he could still do both. He could take out Moretti first and tell the woman to wait inside, finish his mission to put a bullet in Midnight, then take her with him when he rendezvoused with his team and headed back to the States.
He ran his hands over the door, looking for a way to open it without drawing too much attention to himself. What he wanted to do was break it down and show Moretti what happened to thugs who tried to force themselves on women.
The solid wood door, easily twice as thick as a standard one, was designed to keep out unwanted interruptions. He’d have to use a C4 breaching charge to get in, but he needed both of the ones he’d brought with him for a different job. One that was vital for his mission to succeed.
The whir of helicopter blades interrupted his inspection. Fuck. Boone shoved the knowledge that Midnight had arrived and could possibly make it off the roof before Boone could reach him to the back of his mind.
Moretti heard the whumps of the copter’s rotor blades, too. With a bellow of primal rage, he snarled, “Do what I told you to do. I don’t have any more time to waste.”
Another scream rent the air, then the hitched breathing and sobs of a woman who had lost hope filled the space. “I w-w-won’t t-tell anyone what h-happened. P-P-Please, I just w-want to g-go h-h-home.”
“You are never going home, topolina . No matter what happens now.”
Boone was going to enjoy shooting this asshole right in the dick. He was going to make more noise than he’d like to take down a door this thick. Scanning the hallway again to make sure he was still alone, the steady blink of a small red light in the upper corner of the roof access caught his eye.
Shit. He’d missed a camera. How had he not noticed it? It was pointed right at him. If there were any guards paying attention, they knew he was there even if the guards on the beach hadn’t alerted them.
His fury was a living monster inside him that fought to escape. The injustice of it was palpable. Midnight was within his grasp.
Even when it sucks, you have to do what you have to do.
It was a mantra he lived by. He’d taught it to all the men on his team. He couldn’t walk away from the woman trapped inside that room. If he did, he’d be no better than Midnight.
But that man needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was. Not just for Cara but for all the other women he and his men had harmed. Women like the one behind that door.
The whirring blades above him slowed.
Taking out Midnight was the right call. So why could he hear Cara’s voice calling him out in his head?
“ You can’t leave her there, and you know it. You know what will happen if you do. She won’t last until you make it back. ”
He tried telling himself ending Midnight was all for Cara, but was it? Or was it so he could finally get past the guilt he’d carried for three years? She’d died because of him. He’d been right there and hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.
Cara would never have walked away from someone in harm’s way for the sake of revenge. Never. And she would be furious if he used her as the excuse for doing it himself.
His men would understand. He had to put the woman he could still protect before the one he couldn’t. The woman’s sobs grew increasingly frantic.
“For you, Cara,” he said and went to work.
Fighting the urge to blow the door to splinters, he worked the problem. The door was expensive and made from sturdy mahogany. That ruled out throwing his weight against it and crashing through. It would be impossible. So, how would he get in?
Scuffling and thumping noises increased his urgency.
“No!” the girl inside screamed. “Stop! STOP!”
Out of time, he went for the simplest solution. He pounded on the door.
Now, only sobs came from the room. Boone waited. He had to get out of this hallway before someone found him standing there.
After scanning up and down the hallway again, he beat on the door once more, harder this time. He replaced his Glock with the largest of his knives and pressed it to the door. With gritted teeth, he pounded again.
“I left clear instructions to wait in the dining room. I’m not to be disturbed.” Moretti snatched the door open, yelling in that damn fake accent. The man had been born in Chicago and never even visited Italy, as far as Boone knew. “I hope this was important because you are about to die.”
Moretti was still zipping his pants, so he didn’t realize who he was talking to until he finished and looked up. He stood there, speechless, staring at Boone.
Just as well. Boone buried his combat knife in the man’s throat before he could utter a sound.
The commander staggered backward, which was as much of an invitation to enter as the man was able to give. Boone stepped into the room, grabbed Moretti, and lowered the rasping man to the floor as he gagged and scratched at the knife. Boone watched, booted foot planted on Moretti’s chest.
“You okay?” he called to the shocked girl staring at him. He took a minute to look her over.
Cuts and bruises covered her body, along with scattered burn marks that had obviously come from the high powered cattle prod leaning against the wall. That son of a bitch had tortured her with a stun wand carrying enough voltage to knock an elephant on its ass. If Moretti used that, it was a miracle he hadn’t killed her.
Boone grabbed the cattle prod and pressed it to the metal blade of the knife lodged in Moretti’s throat. The man stiffened for the five seconds Boone held it there and then went limp forever.
Boone checked the hallway once more before closing and locking the door. Turning back to the room, he scanned the area for possible escape options. He’d come through the only door, and the window was barely big enough for the girl to fit through. If he made it through that opening, it would be a miracle.
The girl huddled on a filthy mattress, staring at him in wonder. It took everything inside him not to return the stare. Her wavy hair barely reached her shoulders. And it was bubblegum pink. How she kept it that way in a place like this, he had no idea.
But it was her eyes that drew him in. Her eyes were huge and the most incredible blue, almost purple, like the mountain bluebonnets back home in Wyoming. He could lose himself forever in those eyes.
And he was pulling the brake cord on that train of thought right now. He had no business getting lost in anyone’s eyes right now, much less a young woman who’d just been through what this girl had. He turned on his heel and retrieved his knife from Moretti’s throat, wiping off the blood on the dead man’s shirt as the girl stared at him.
He sheathed the knife before crossing back to her. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he squatted down to her eye level. Using the voice he used with skittish colts on the ranch back home, he said, “It's all right. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand?” She hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
After one more assessing look, he held out his hand, waiting for her to take hold of him. After helping her to her feet, she shocked the shit out of him by pushing him aside and walking over to where Moretti lay on the stone floor.
Before he could guess her intent, she kicked the man right in the face. And not just once. No, over and over again until Boone put his hand on her shoulder. At Boone’s touch, she twirled around to face him as if she had been stung. Fisting her hands, she beat on Boone’s chest.
Instinctively, he wrapped her in his arms. She struggled to get away, but she wasn’t going anywhere. “It's okay. You’re going to be all right. I’ve got you, babygirl,” he whispered, holding her close. He stroked her back with a gentle hand until she grew still, but her breathing was still rapid and shallow.
She startled him when she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pressed her soft cheek against his chest. The skin-to-skin contact seemed to settle her like nothing else, which was good. All he knew was he liked her cheek there, and not just a little. He liked it a lot. He continued to hold her longer than necessary, but for some reason, he couldn’t let her go.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure,” he told her without thinking. “But if you’re feeling better, we need to get out of here. That copter landing on the roof was Nico Midnight.”
With a deep breath, she stepped back and looked up into his eyes with her beautiful blue ones. “Who are you?” she asked.
Before he could answer, someone banged on the door.
“Ottavio, my friend,” a voice called, “is there a reason you have the door locked? Eliatells me you have been taking liberties with my property. I can’t believe this is true. You, of all people, would know the consequences of that. Open the door so we can clear up this misunderstanding.”
Boone recognized that voice, too. Nico Midnight had no interest in fake accents. He didn’t need to play at being a bad guy. He was the real deal to his core. Boone fought the need to rip open the door and empty the magazine of his Glock into the man. The only thing holding him back was knowing what would happen to the girl beside him if he gave in to that need.
Ignoring Midnight, Boone stepped to the window and guesstimated the size. It was small, but he could make it work. Peering down from the second floor window, he reckoned the drop was long but survivable. Whether they could make the drop without injury was up for debate. It didn’t matter because there was no other choice.
Midnight still attempted to cajole his way into the room. “A key is on the way, Ottavio. It would be much better if you opened the door before it arrived.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. After everything the girl behind him had been through, he’d be damned if she was going to have to deal with the likes of a man like Midnight. Glancing behind him, he gave her a wink and a smile.
She didn’t know it yet, but he always kept his promises. He’d told her she would be all right and refused to allow her to be anything else.
Boone crossed to his pack and took out his stiletto knife. Softening his steps, he slid the blade of the knife into the lock in order to keep Midnight from opening the door. Thankfully, the lock was old-fashioned and designed to use a skeleton key. He twisted the blade, making sure it wouldn’t be easily dislodged, before turning back to the girl.
She wore a short skirt and a tight, cropped top that cut off just below her breasts. It had long sleeves, but he couldn’t believe they were much help from the way she shivered.
While she could probably make a grain sack look good, the outfit she wore wouldn’t suit her even if it wasn’t messed up. He could picture her in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and one of his plaid shirts tied at the waist. Maybe a pair of cowgirl boots and some of those kitten-eared headthings girls wear these days.
Holy shit. What in the hell was he doing, picturing her in clothes that would fit on his ranch? Picturing her in his shirt? Picturing her at all?
Time and place, big guy. Time. And. Place.
He wasn’t anything like the man on the other side of that door, but he sure was acting like it. Especially when she still wore clothes that bore rips and dirt that came from a struggle.
He needed to be focused on his new mission—getting her out of there unharmed. She was going to freeze in the early December night air when they made their escape. Not to mention the stacked strappy black heels she wore, which would be useless once they got outside and ran for cover.
Moretti had her dressed like a pretty doll, probably on Midnight’s orders.
He made his way back to her side. After pulling off his jacket, he held it out to her. “Here. Put this on—” He stopped when he realized he didn’t even know who she was. “What’s your name, little girl?”
It took her a minute, but she finally said, “Tildi. Well, Matilda, but I go by Tildi.”
His lips twitched. Cute. Why’d she have to be so damn cute? “Okay, Tildi not Matilda, put on my jacket. We have to move, and it’s cold out there. Hand me your shoes.”
She did as she was told without any questions. Was that her nature, or had those Cosa Nostra thugs conditioned her to act without asking? The Daddy in him was drawn to her, so he hoped it was the former. He flipped over the shoes she handed him, snapped off the spikes that most women thought were necessary and handed them back.
He halfway expected Tildi to react when he ruined the shoes, but she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t even blink. Lord knew his little sister would have thrown a fit. In the world of fashion, he’d been informed, black heels with red bottoms were expensive.
He scowled down at Tildi’s feet. “Those still aren’t going to be comfortable, but at least you can run in them without leaving tracks.”
Footsteps thundered down the hallway as Midnight spoke again. “There’s no escaping me, Ottavio. Why make this difficult, my friend? Open the door and–” Midnight broke off. A moment later, he bellowed out, “What!” and then snarled, “When? How many guards are down?” Pause. “Did the cameras catch who it is?” There was a longer pause for more muttering, and then Midnight roared, “Boone! BOONE! I’m going to slit you open from your throat to your dick and feed your entrails to the bears.”
Boone grinned but didn’t answer. Even as the Boss of one of the most notorious Cosa Nostra families in the United States, Midnight could be a fucking drama queen.
Boone wanted to laugh but instead kept his gun trained on the door. He wasn’t about to let this kingpin wannabe goad him into wasting bullets.
“I hope that bitch I shot three years ago suffered and died in agony. Her blood is on your hands, not mine. You should have kept your nose and your team out of Family business.”
A soft hand gripped his arm. “What are we going to do?” Tildi whispered. He didn’t know what shook more, her hand or her voice.
“Hold on, I need my phone,” Boone said, reaching inside the jacket she now wore to retrieve the phone from the inside pocket. The back of his hand brushed her breast when he pulled out his phone, and she shivered. He refused to question why.
He thumbed the button for Dutch, one of the men who’d served with him on the black ops team and now worked on the ranch. Along with Grifter, another of his men turned cowboy, Dutch waited for Boone in an ocean-crossing yacht offshore. He picked up on the first ring.
“Status?” Dutch asked.
“Things didn’t go as planned. I ran into an unexpected complication. I need extraction ASAP. We’re heading to the rendezvous point now. Be ready because we might need cover.”
“Wait, we?” Dutch asked. “Who the fuck is we?”
“You’ll find out when we get there.”
He was answered with a long pause and a heavy sigh. Finally, Dutch growled, “Roger that. Proceeding to the rendezvous. Will you need medical when you get here?”
“Maybe. Be ready, just in case. My passenger will need tending.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me. Just be there before I am and be ready for anything.”
“Roger that. On our way.”
He disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in the pocket of his jacket.
“Okay, we’re going to have to work together here,” he told Tildi. Pulling out his Glock, he asked, “Have you ever shot a gun before?”
Eyes huge, she stared at the weapon and shook her head. “No. Never.”
Perfect.
It would be his luck today to get the door rigged with the C4 charge without incident, only to be shot in the back by a cute, twitchy civilian who’d never held a gun.
He shifted to Plan B.
Grabbing the stun wand, he handed that to her instead. “Okay, I want you to stand there,” he said, pointing to the wall beside the door. “Hopefully, you won’t have to do anything, but if someone comes through that door, you zap them with this wand. Got me?”
“O-okay,” she said, nodding.
When she didn’t stop nodding, his heart started to thaw. It had been frozen for the past three years, ever since he’d fucked up and caused one of his people to get shot.
Tildi stood there shivering with nothing but determination flashing in her eyes. She was trying to be strong, even after all she’d been through. He cupped his hand around her cheek and smiled. “We’re getting out of here safely. Both of us. I’m gonna take care of you, babygirl. You can trust me.”
Her eyes dilated at his words. That was interesting. He packed it away for later.
She squatted beside Moretti’s corpse as she crossed the room and whispered, “I still don’t like you.”
“Tildi, get where I told you,” Boone snapped.
Pausing only long enough to shock Moretti’s body with the weapon, she found her spot and assumed a ready stance, stun wand held high.
Boone’s lips twitched again. His little survivor had a streak of vengeance in her.
No, not his. Definitely not his.
Once she got away from this place, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He would keep too many memories alive for her. Besides, he still had a score to settle with Midnight. He didn’t need any distractions right now, either.
And, tiny as she was, she would still be a big one.