by Logan Ryles
It was another hour before Banks tucked Polina into the bed. The girl fell asleep with no regard for the dead man on the floor. Banks thought it was probably better if she moved her to another room, but she wasn’t sure what else was happening in the house, and she wanted to find out first. As soon as Polina collapsed into an exhausted, traumatized sleep, Banks picked up the shotgun and walked back across the room, taking the squeaking steps one at a time to the ground floor.
The bottom of the house was completely illuminated now. The fat man lay in the kitchen, decapitated in the midst of the largest pool of blood Banks had ever seen. Wolfgang leaned over the counter, sorting through a stack of cameras, computers, and other electronic equipment. Kelly stood near the window overlooking the lake, her mask removed, and her distorted features staring out over the water in icy silence.
As Banks entered, Wolfgang stared at her a moment, glanced down at the shotgun, then looked back at the stack of electronics.
“It was a blackmail operation,” he said. “There’s an entire brothel downstairs. Two rooms were used for under-aged sex by wealthy businessmen, celebrities, politicians . . . whoever. There was an office under the second-floor staircase that housed the recording equipment. I found thumb drives labeled with a lot of big names, but I haven’t watched them.”
“Don’t,” Banks said flatly.
Wolfgang nodded and set a camera down on the counter. The stairwell to the basement creaked, and Lucy appeared. Kelly looked up immediately, her eyes shooting a question.
Lucy nodded once. “They’re asleep. Most of them required sedation. I found some sleeping pills in the kitchen.”
“They?” Banks asked.
Lucy’s gaze fell to the floor. “There’s an entire line of prison cells beneath the kitchen. Four girls . . . all fifteen or less.”
Banks felt a wave of sickness and overwhelming rage. Suddenly, her skin felt hot, and she rushed to the counter, picking up an open bottle of water and draining it. When she set it down and looked around the room, the others were avoiding each other’s gazes, trying to find peace in a bit of wall or carpet.
Banks’s hand shook, and she swallowed. “Where is Reed’s father?”
Kelly grunted. “The guys from the SUV ran out the back just as you two were carving up the fat guy. David was with them.”
Wolfgang nodded. “Right after I stopped the cover fire, I heard some shots from the backyard. My guess is that Reed was in the woods with a rifle. Maybe he ran them down. Hard to say.”
Silence lapsed over the room again, seconds ticking into minutes. And then, for the first time, Kelly was the one to break it. She turned away from the window and faced them, her arms crossed, her distorted features twisted into an even more hideous snarl.
“Whatever it takes, wherever they are . . . I’m going to run the bastards responsible for this into the ground, and I’m going to carve them apart, one piece at a time. If these are the people Reed is at war with, I’m at war with them, too.”
Banks saw Lucy and Wolfgang’s rage, the amazing horror of what they had seen, and their burning desire for vengeance.
She turned back to Kelly. “We all are.”
Forty-Five
Reed and Maggie scooped a shallow grave in the lakeside, using the paddle and a small bucket from Gambit’s boat. It took over an hour, but eventually, it was deep enough to safely protect David from scavengers until he could be afforded a proper burial. They lifted his broken body and laid him down in the mud.
Reed stood for a long moment at the foot of the grave, staring at his father. In a way, David Montgomery looked more peaceful in this moment than he had since that fateful day decades before when he and Reed worked together on the old Camaro. There was something in his face that radiated rest, even through the cold pallor of death. It was as though he had been at war with something or somebody for years, and now, after all that time, he was free.
Reed knelt and gently scooped earth over his father’s face. After a moment, Maggie joined in, and ten minutes later, the hole was filled and packed down, hard enough to ensure that the next Louisiana rain wouldn’t wash the topsoil away.
A hot breeze blew in over the lake. As Reed glanced toward the water, he could see nothing on the far shore. The lights of the house, like the bodies that lay next to him, were now prisoners of the swamp.
“Will anyone have heard the gunshots?” he asked.
Maggie shrugged. “This isn’t really a tourist destination. Locals might mark it off as gator hunters or rednecks.”
Reed nodded slowly, then settled down onto the damp earth and pulled his knees to chin level. He doubted that gator hunters used automatic weapons, but he wasn’t going to worry about that right now. Maggie settled down beside him, and the song of the swamp wind filled their ears, drowning out the memory of the gunshots and the screams.
“Gambit’s dead,” Maggie said after a while.
“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”
Maggie shrugged. “I guess I should be happy. The threat’s gone.”
Reed drew in a long breath, then shook his head. “No, I’m afraid it’s not. Gambit wasn’t a boss. He was an underling. A buffer man.”
“So, you still think this is some kind of conspiracy?”
Reed nodded. “Without a doubt. And Aiden Phillips is at the top of it all.”
Maggie picked at the mud with a stick, scratching various patterns into it.
“I never got to tell you, but I think Robert Coulier was Gambit’s replacement for me. My secretary of state has undergone a ‘mental breakdown,’ whatever that means. My guess is that he’s either far greater a wimp than I thought, or Coulier somehow got to him. With him out of the way, Coulier takes the executive office.”
“You’re not dead,” Reed said. “You can go back now and take over.”
Maggie poked at the mud, her shoulders slumped.
Reed heard a soft sob escape her lips and was surprised to see her shoulders shake. She didn’t cry, but her body wanted her to.
Hesitantly, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.
When she looked up, her eyes were red but not wet.
“My god, Reed. I never imagined I was signing up for something like this. I just wanted to make the state a better place. I wanted to lead. I wanted to be a hero.”
Reed squeezed her shoulder again, then withdrew his hand. “It doesn’t take a hero to lead men into battle. It takes a hero to be one of those men who goes into battle.”
Maggie squinted at him. “Who said that?”
Reed offered a weary laugh. “Some Army guy. Only Army guys have time to come up with things like that. Marines are too busy getting the job done.”
Maggie returned the laugh.
“The important thing is, it’s true. You could’ve settled for making the state a better place—lowering taxes, building schools . . . whatever governors do. Instead, you went into battle and did what nobody before you was willing to do. Whatever you’ve done, whatever it costs, you took the risk and put yourself on the line for your people. That makes you a hero in my book . . . for whatever my book is worth.”
Maggie nodded slowly. “Thank you. That actually means a lot.”
The moon shone down over them, bathing the lakeside in cool blue light. Even though it was hot, and the water stank, and the mud had oozed into all kinds of uncomfortable places, Reed couldn’t help but think that this was the most peace he had felt in a long time. There was still so much uncertainty in his life. He’d literally just buried his father. Someplace across the lake, Banks was with the others, and she was hurting and alone and probably very confused by their last encounter.
He didn’t know if she could ever love him after everything he had done—the bodies, the gunfire, the endless wreckage that now followed her life as much as his. In that context, kissing the governor seemed a small atrocity, yet it felt like his biggest betrayal. He didn’t know if she could forgive that. He didn’t know if he could ask her
to.
But what he did know was that he loved Banks more than he’d ever loved any woman. And he also knew that the breath of the wind on the water was no more than the calm before the final storm.
“What are you going to do now, Reed Montgomery?”
Reed picked himself up and dusted the mud off his knees. “First, I’m going to do something about those bodies, then I’m going to take you back to the city where you can make your own decisions. And then . . .”
He cast one more glance at the lake. Something cold and angry boiled in his stomach—the kind of burning resolve that saturated his bones and galvanized him into action, no matter if that action cost him everything.
“And then I’m going to hunt down Aiden Phillips, and I’m going to prosecute him like no judge or jury ever will.”
Maggie stood up and placed a hand on Reed’s shoulder. There was iron in her grip—the strength of a woman who had been pushed to the brink of Hell and was now about to push back.
“Leave the bodies for the gators, Reed. I’m with you.”
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Survivor. Since you’ve made it this far, you must be enjoying the Reed Montgomery Series, and that thrills me.
Please consider leaving a review for Survivor on Amazon. Reviews help me reach new readers, and I would be particularly grateful for your review!
Book 6 of the series, Death Cycle, launches on July 15th, and is now available for preorder. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to shoot me an email if you want to say hello. You can reach me at [email protected]. I love to make new friends!
All my best,
- Logan
Ready for more?
The Story Continues with Death Cycle
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About the Author
Logan Ryles is the author of the action-thriller Reed Montgomery series. Originally from Alabama, he now lives with his wife in Tennessee. You can learn more about Logan’s books, sign up for email updates, and connect with him directly by visiting LoganRyles.com.
Also by Logan Ryles
The Reed Montgomery Series
Prequel: Sandbox, a short story (read for free at LoganRyles.com)
Book 1: Overwatch
Book 2: Hunt to Kill
Book 3: Total War
Book 4: Smoke and Mirrors
Book 5: Survivor
Book 6: Death Cycle (launches July 15, 2021)
Book 7: Sundown (coming soon)
Visit LoganRyles.com to receive a free copy of Sandbox.
LoganRyles.com
