Survive the Hunt

by Diana Duncan

  “What are you doing with my money, bitch? It better all be there.”

  Mad voices. Shouting. Slaps. Zoe wrapped her arms around her hurting middle and silently rocked herself back and forth in the dark.

  Mommy’s scream, then Mommy sobbing, “I told you, I won’t live with you if you abuse me.”

  “Fine. Leave any goddamned time you want. But Francie is mine! I’ll raise her my way. She’ll inherit my empire.”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “If you insist. I’ve gotten away with murder before.”

  Mommy choking. A loud, pained male grunt. Mommy’s rapid footsteps. Glass breaking. “Go get your damned money, Thomas. It’s all you ever loved, anyway.”

  A shaft of light in the terrifying darkness. The acrid scent of Mommy’s sweat. The taste of terror, like sour milk on her tongue.

  “Come on, baby girl. We have to hurry!”

  Outside, in the cold, black night. Mommy’s hand clutching hers so tight it hurt. Her breathless panting. “Run, Francie!”

  Ragged breaths tore from Zoe’s throat. She’d been three years old.

  Mom had told her about tossing the found money out the window. About changing their names immediately after their terrified flight. But trauma had buried the actual memory. No wonder she’d over-identified with the scared little girls at the hostage site.

  She couldn’t stop trembling. Couldn’t look away from Tony DiMarco’s smug expression. “You knew my mother,” she whispered. “Knew my father.”

  “I know him, yeah.”

  She swallowed so hard it hurt. Her battered psyche rejected the awful implications. “His name was Thomas.”

  “It was. Then.”

  “Zoe,” Aidan murmured from behind her. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s messing with your head.”

  DiMarco stepped toward her. “I’ve waited a long goddamned time to see you again.”

  No! She refused to accept it. Her mother’s voice echoed inside her mind. Run, Francie!

  “Don’t!” she screamed as pain shattered her. She bolted toward the woods. “Don’t say it!”

  DiMarco caught her before she ran five yards. He turned her to face him. “No reason to be scared, Francie.”

  She was no longer afraid of DiMarco. She was terrified of the truth. “My name is Zoe!” she yelled. “I am Zoe Zagretti!”

  “Call yourself whatever you want. Doesn’t change who you are.”

  Gasping for air, screaming silently now, she willed him not to continue.

  No, no, no!

  He touched her cheek with a rough, scarred hand and she flinched away. “I sometimes used the name Thomas Delgado back then. You’re my only child. My heir. I’ve been searching for you for years, but every time I got close, goddamn Rita took off again. After you finally settled in San Francisco, I arranged for your job in Riverside so we could meet. I was gonna take you with me and retire in the Caymans on one last, big score.” His heavy brow furrowed in a black scowl. “Then that little fucker Conall O’Rourke and his bitch burned and shot me, and fucked up all my careful plans.”

  Intense pain coiled in her chest, crushing her heart.

  Can’t breathe.

  The monster who’d murdered Aidan’s father was her father.

  DiMarco swept his arm outward. “I have unlimited power. Millions in dough. Acknowledge me as your father, swear your loyalty, and you’ll never lack for anything. I’ll teach you to run my empire. Give you everything you’ve lacked. Everything you’ve ever wanted.”

  Every movement an effort, she slowly turned her head and looked at Aidan. Emotions flashed across his face.

  Confusion.

  Rage.

  Finally ... worst of all ... horrified revulsion.

  The only thing she’d ever wanted was a future with Aidan. The agonized man who was now staring at her in disbelieving, haunted betrayal.

  The man who, after today, would hate her forever.

  Tony DiMarco’s evil blood flowed in her veins. Her father’s legacy was pain and death.

  Nothing could erase this truth. Every time Aidan looked at her, he would remember grief. Would know hatred. He’d never be able to love her. Not now.

  A few fateful words had snatched away her life. Devastated her hopes.

  Killed her dreams.

  She’d lived for the truth ... never knowing the truth could hurt so much.

  Overwhelmed by grief, she reeled. She couldn’t run. Couldn’t hide. Could never escape. With this hideous knowledge eating away inside her, she could never again make a fresh start.

  Her future was as dead as the young man Tony DiMarco had just so cold-bloodedly murdered.

  Her life was over.

  She crumpled to her knees.

  DiMarco leaned down to gloat. “Mind-blowing, isn’t it? Get up, little girl. Time for lesson three.”

  She knelt in the dirt and didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to think. Couldn’t bear to feel.

  Zoe’s fingers curled into fists as she shook violently, battling torment. Her feelings didn’t matter anymore.

  Her future was dead, but she could still save Aidan’s.

  She struggled to her feet. “All right. I—I’m your d-daughter.” She clenched her teeth against another retch. “I belong to you. I’ll swear my loyalty. And you’ll give me everything I want.”

  “No!” Aidan’s hoarse cry pierced her heart. The writhing pain inside her was nothing compared to the bitter anguish in his voice.

  “Satisfaction.” A corrupt, triumphant grin bled across DiMarco’s scarred face. “The best man won, O’Rourke. Francie’s always been sharp. I knew I’d win her over to my side. How does it feel to die knowing she’ll always belong to me?”

  “No!” Aidan cried out again.

  She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the suffering haunting his eyes. Suffering she’d caused. Instead, she fixed her stare on DiMarco. “The first thing I want is Aidan taken safely to the mainland.”

  DiMarco shook his head. “Sorry, Princess. You can have anything but that.”

  Don’t bet your life on it, asshole.

  “I thought you were all-powerful. The king of the empire. Two minutes as ...” The words strangled her, but she forced herself to say them. She’d claim to be Satan’s spawn to save Aidan. “Two minutes as my daddy, and you’ve already let me down?”

  “You have so much to learn.” He ruefully shook his head. “Lesson three, Francie, is never leave an enemy at your back. If Brian had killed me after betraying me, he’d be alive today. When you’re dripping with diamonds and dancing on my yacht, you won’t even remember what the fuckin’ cop looked like.”

  DiMarco stalked toward Aidan.

  She clutched the unyielding steel of his forearm. “Wait!” If she couldn’t talk him out of killing Aidan, she had to buy time to formulate a plan. “Tell me why the O’Rourkes are your enemies.”

  “Our enemies, little girl.” He turned, that scarred nightmare face a mask of hatred. “Back in the day when we were all in the service, Maureen was my woman, and I thought Brian was my friend. The three of us were inseparable. Then Brian stole Maureen from me. I got sent to hell, while he mustered out. He married her, and she gave him four sons who should’ve been mine.”

  Aidan snarled. “In your warped dreams, psycho.”

  “Shut your goddamned mouth, O’Rourke. At least until you start begging for death—just like Daddy did.”

  “Inventing fairy tales might make you feel like a real man, you fucking coward,” Aidan gritted. “But we both know Pop went out fighting.”

  Zoe shot a snide glance in Aidan’s direction. “Shut up, pig. I’m talking to my father here.” Her lacerated heart wept. But she couldn’t help him if he pissed off DiMarco.

  DiMarco chuckled. “You’ve got so much of your old man in you. Too bad I didn’t find you sooner.”

  Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. She sucked in a breath. Focus. Lead him where you want him to go, just lik
e Aidan did with Joe. “Is that why you killed Brian? Because he married Maureen instead of you?”

  “I didn’t want O’Rourke to die. I wanted him to know what it felt like to suffer. I waited years, until he had it real good. Then I set him up to look like a dirty cop.” DiMarco shrugged. “If it’d gone down as planned, I would’ve had the satisfaction of seeing him lose everything. The hero’s job. The devoted wife. The loyal sons. Everyone would’ve turned on him.”

  How could a human being be so vicious? So depraved? “What went wrong?”

  He scowled. “Do-Right O’Rourke was always by-the-book. I figured he’d take his lumps like a man. Surprised the shit outta me when he went against regs and ran his own investigation into the missing money on the sly. The mule-headed Mick just wouldn’t give up. I’d covered my tracks, but he got too fuckin’ close.”

  She had to make him say the words. “So you killed him.”

  “Yeah, I took him out. Beat him to death. He died on his knees, whining and bawling for mercy.”

  “Lying bastard,” Aidan choked in a tortured whisper.

  Zoe’s heart ripped in two. As much as it pained her to relive his father’s death, it would hurt Aidan a thousand times more. However, she’d just obtained what nobody ever had. She’d wrangled an uncontestable murder confession from Tony DiMarco.

  And she wasn’t done.

  She clamped down on her bleeding emotions. The only way to get through this was to tightly lock up her feelings. Plenty of time to grieve later.

  Alone.

  “You’re good at what you do. And obviously smart. Is that why nobody ever found his body?”

  “Yeah.” DiMarco’s arrogantly arched brow made her want to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. “I hid it too fuckin’ well.”

  She hesitated, afraid of pushing her luck. But she was in too deep now to matter. And she was determined Aidan would get whatever peace he could. “Where?”

  He cocked his head as the first hint of wariness flitted over his expression. “Why do you wanna know, Francie?”

  “If I’m going to run our empire someday, I need to learn from the best.” Lies came easier now. Ends justified the means this time.

  “Yeah, ya do.” His obscene smile widened. “We’re just a small community of poor fuckin’ fishermen, eking out a living. Nobody bothers us. We have a graveyard here on the island for our dearly departed. Some of the burials there are less ... obvious.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she fought the urge to knock it off. “And speaking of learning from the best, time to finish lesson three. How to handle your enemies. The rest of it’ll come later, when we take out his brothers. We’ll stamp out Brian O’Rourke’s genes from the face of the earth before they’re passed on. Then Maureen will be alone, she’ll know how I felt when she left me all alone.

  Zoe would kill him herself to stop that from happening.

  She exhaled as eerie calm enveloped her. She’d hand-deliver her gift-wrapped soul to the devil before she’d let DiMarco execute her cop.

  As they’d talked, she’d studied her surroundings and devised a plan.

  To seek what slight redemption she could.

  “All right.” She squared her shoulders, wrapping herself in a cloak of fatalism. If Aidan died, he’d die fighting, not bound and helpless. And she’d die with him. She stepped away from DiMarco. “Just let me say goodbye.”

  DiMarco scowled. “Why does it matter?”

  “He’s never going to have me, now.” She forced stiff lips into a gleeful smile. How did these ugly thoughts and cruel words spring so easily to mind? Perhaps some of her father’s cold evil lurked inside her after all. Aidan would never want her to share his life or mother his children. “I want him to remember what he can’t have while he suffers through his last moments.”

  “But Boss,” one of his men interjected. “Maybe you shouldn’t let—”

  “Shut your fuckin’ pie hole!” DiMarco hollered. “Francie is Daddy’s girl through and through.”

  The viper was proud of her. Shame wouldn’t allow her to meet Aidan’s eyes. Instead, she kept her focus on his wide chest. She took a head count as she wove her way through the waiting men. Nine, not counting DiMarco.

  Stinking odds.

  They might not win, but they’d at least take some scumbags with them.

  When she reached Aidan, she stared fixedly at his chin. “Your loss, SWAT.”

  His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. “I know.” Sorrow weighted his soft murmur.

  Stinging tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. She’d forfeited any chance to be with him. Before her facade could crumble, she slid her arms around his waist. The last time she’d ever touch him.

  One final hug to last a lifetime.

  She wanted to linger, imprint his scent on her senses, memorize the feel of his smooth, hot skin. But she didn’t dare.

  “Have a taste of what you’ll be missing.” She tossed her head and rubbed back and forth against him as her fingers covertly dipped into his pocket to extract his knife. The surrounding men, being men, would be looking at her wiggling red satin-covered ass peeking from beneath the shirt and her bare legs delineated by red stiletto heels—not watching her hands. She continued to slither against him as she felt for the rope binding his wrists. “You’ll never have it again.”

  With her shimmying body and the totem pole blocking her movements, she flicked open the Swiss Army knife hidden in her fist. The sharp blade bit through the rope. “Miss me, cop.” She laid the knife in his palm, felt his fingers close around the handle. Yes!

  She planted a soft kiss on his lips. “It’s final,” she breathed, then stepped back.

  Chuckling, Tony strode to Aidan’s side. “With a few more lessons, you’ll be damned good at torture, Francie.”

  Anger burned away some of her grief. Think so? Well, she had a few lessons for dear old dad.

  The skinny guy rushed out of the house where they’d held Kent to deliver a second syringe.

  She strolled several yards to Aidan’s right and leaned against a trailered boat’s hull. Locked her knees to hide their trembling. “Lesson one wasn’t anything new. Many people believe money is power.”

  “Money is power.” DiMarco nodded. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Second lesson, command respect.” Tucking her hands behind her back, she grasped the boat hook, a long wooden staff with a wicked metal claw at the end. “I’m working on that one.”

  He uncapped the syringe and stepped in front of Aidan. “You’ll pick it up in no time.”

  “I’m a quick study.” She forced a smile. “I believe this will be the most interesting of all ... how to deal with one’s enemies. “Bring on the final lesson.”

  As the words left her mouth, Aidan struck fast as a coiled snake, slashing the blade across DiMarco’s outstretched arm.

  DiMarco dropped the syringe. He staggered, bellowing, “You morons didn’t search him? Get Francie somewhere safe!” Guns bristled in every hand, but with DiMarco so close to Aidan, his men couldn’t open fire. “Keep those goddamned weapons pointed away from my daughter!” DiMarco yelled. “Anyone who hurts my little girl dies!”

  As DiMarco’s left hand fumbled clumsily with his thigh holster and yanked out his gun, Zoe yelled, “Aidan!” and javelined the boat hook to him.

  Aidan dropped the knife and caught the boat hook. Whirling, he knocked the pistol from DiMarco’s hand with the staff, then slammed the top up so the metal tip smacked the side of DiMarco’s head.

  DiMarco crashed to the dirt.

  Now that DiMarco was on the ground, his flunkies had open shots at Aidan.

  “Hey, dickwads!” Zoe shouted to gain their attention. Her pulse scrambled as fast as her feet while she quickly zigzagged through the maze of men trying to capture her. She reached Aidan’s side, scooped up the knife, then dodged and weaved as he moved, shielding him with her body.

  Several men rushed him. He sidestepped her and the boat ho
ok spun in a graceful, deadly arc like the sword he’d used in his kata. Blows thudded into bodies. As his opponents scattered and fell, more stampeded forward.

  In the center of the melee, Zoe concentrated on keeping her footing, staying out of Aidan’s way while still providing him cover, and evading DiMarco’s men.

  A big blond Viking lunged at her. She slashed at him with the knife, but he grabbed her wrist, making her drop it, and spun her into his body, trapping her spine against his rock-hard chest. She rammed her elbow into his solar plexus and did the instep stomp again. Grunting, he let go. She dropped to the ground. On all fours, she scurried between a forest of shifting pant legs—where men sprawled in the dirt, some dazed, some unconscious—back toward Aidan. Who knew three-inch heels were a better weapon than a knife?

  “Zoe! Over here!” Focused on her, Aidan moved closer to the now awake DiMarco. DiMarco kicked the back of Aidan’s calf, forcing him to drop to one knee. DiMarco leapt on Aidan’s back and bulldozed him to the ground.

  Swearing, they rolled. Fists brutalized flesh.

  The five remaining armed bad guys pressed forward, preparing to spring to DiMarco’s aid. Zoe snatched up a pistol from beside a moaning guy who was clutching his ribs. She pointed it at the advancing men. “Stop! Drop your guns!”

  They all kept coming ... so she gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger.

  BOOM!

  The recoil staggered her, nearly knocking her on her ass. But she managed to stay upright to see that sheer luck had caused her to hit skinny dude in the side. Screaming, bleeding, he collapsed.

  “Drop your guns, shitheads!” All the other weapons thudded to the dirt. She bared her teeth in victory. “Back away! Get on the ground—hands on your head!”

  This time they immediately obeyed.

  She swiveled sideways to check on Aidan.

  Fighting viciously, he and DiMarco rolled toward the totem poles. Her cop gained the advantage, reared up on his knees and straddled DiMarco—the syringe fisted in Aidan’s hand. Snarling, he locked his other hand around DiMarco’s throat and raised the syringe in position to stab a death blow into DiMarco’s neck. “Satisfy this, you sadistic murdering fuck!”