“Fuck! Sorry!” Jack apologizes, lowering his weapon when he sees it’s us.
“Took you long enough.”
“I’m sorry. We ran as fast as we could once we cleared it, but his guys kept us in the woods longer than we thought they would.” Jack’s head dips with regret.
“They’re all accounted for.” Jack’s second-in-command lets me know when he reaches the doorway.
“Minus this fuck.” I nod to the man beneath me. “Let’s get him out of here.”
“Where do you want to take him?” Jack asks.
“The cellblock for now,” I answer, and they both nod their understanding, hauling him up and out of the cabin as soon as I step back. “The rest of our guys are on their way. Make sure if you pass them out there, you get them sorted.”
“What about the helicopter?” Zephyrine looks at me, worry dancing behind the blue.
“They’re long gone. There’s a drop-off point up there, but nowhere to use as an exfil. My best guess is that they have another vehicle waiting at the bottom of the mountain that my guys already destroyed.” I try to assuage her concerns.
“You’re sure?” I hear the adrenaline in her tone. She’s still shaken, and I just want to comfort her.
“Positive. But I’ll check in with them in a minute. First, I want to make sure you’re okay.” I look over Zephyrine as she watches her husband get dragged down the gravel path.
“I’m… It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him.” She blinks rapidly like she’s holding back tears and then turns to look at me. “I thought he might kill you. I didn’t trust him not to, and I saw an opportunity, so I took it. You’re not mad, are you?”
“I’m not mad. No. It was brave. So fucking brave.” I run my hand down her arm. “But dangerous too. You fucking scared me.” I look up at her, studying the way her face contorts as she tries not to cry and manages to swallow it back.
“I couldn’t let him take someone else. Not again.” She leans into me, and I wrap my arms around her, sweeping her up in a tight hug.
“You did good. It’s okay. You took care of him,” I reassure her softly as I rub the backs of her arms. “Look at me. He’s gone now, okay? You got him. He’s never going to bother you or anyone else again. We’ll make sure of it.”
She nods, but the tears fall from the corners of her eyes silently. I pull her close to me again, letting her bury her face in my shoulder. A sob racks through her chest and vibrates through my own until it echoes like a conviction.
I’d take all the hell this man put her through and erase it for her if I could. I might not have the power to do that, no matter how much I wish I did. But I can certainly make him pay for it, slowly, painfully, while I work to get the information I need about her father. I'll make him regret the day he laid eyes on her with his last fucking breath.
TWENTY-THREE
Levi
“Doyou want to be in the room when I deal with him?” I ask her as we sit in the truck outside the barn where I had my guys bring him tonight.
I let the fucker squirm in a holding cell in the basement of the casino. He was living like a cockroach in the dark, with no food and only a little water spilled as a puddle on the floor to keep him going while he wondered what we had in store for him next.
“I don’t know, honestly. Part of me wants to never see him again. I'd forgotten how much I feel physically ill in his presence, how reviling he truly is. But another part of me wants to see him suffer. I want to see the fear in his eyes when he realizes that you aren’t just going to let him run free after everything.” She has rosary beads in her hand, and her fingers slip over them in contemplation.
“Whatever you want is what we’ll do. But if you want to be part of it, let me know. We’ll need to make you look like a hostage, keep up the ruse for appearances. But it gives me ideas.”
“Ideas?” Her tone is curious. “Like what?”
“What would he have done to me if he’d gotten a hold of us like he’d wanted?” I ask.
Her face contorts with that thought, grimacing and shaking her head.
“I can’t imagine,” she says softly. She always gets quiet like this, used to making herself small for his benefit.
“You can. Your face tells me you can. So tell me what he would have done.”
“Torture you. Beat you half to death. Slice you open. It's anyone's guess how he would have continued. Chopping you up or using electric shocks. He’s inventive when he wants to be, at least with the things he would brag about to me when he was trying to scare me. He wouldn’t stop until you were a bloody pile of nothing.”
“And you?” I want to be sure he suffers a fate equal to whatever he might have tried.
