by Vivi Paige
“Since when did you become a gambler, Will?” he cut me short. “I’m not here to gamble. I’m here to rig the table, turn the odds in our favor, and make a shitload of money. That’s how we operate. Remember? Or have you forgotten just who your family is?”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, well.” Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he shrugged in that casual manner of his. “How soon can you send me one of her toes? I don’t want you mailing it directly to the guy.”
“A toe?”
“What? You think an ear would be better?” He was clearly oblivious to the anger in my voice. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen pictures of her, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty little face. It might piss the old man off, and I don’t want him digging in his heels even more than he has already. Although, if he insists on not paying, I figure an ear might help him realize how committed we are. For now, though, a toe will suffice. Just remember to pack it in ice, so that—”
“I’m not going to chop off one of her fucking toes.” Still holding the glass of whiskey, I felt the urge to smash it against Devlin’s face. If only the asshole wasn’t a thousand miles away. “I promised her she wouldn’t be hurt and—”
“And why the fuck would you promise her that?” He sounded genuinely baffled. “You’re not running a daycare there, Will. This is a fucking op, not a dating reality show. Jesus, man. Now, listen, how fast can you get me that toe? I’m starting to get impatient and—”
“I told you already,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Oh, but you will. Because if you don’t, I will be forced to take measures.”
“Devlin?”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck you.” I slammed my thumb against the phone’s screen, terminating the call. For a moment, I considered just throwing the damn thing overboard. Instead, I pushed the phone back in my pocket and drank the rest of my whiskey in a single gulp. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, viciously clawing at my insides, and I let out an exhausted groan.
“This is fucking bullshit,” I muttered, cocking my arm back and throwing the lowball glass at the ocean. It flew up into an arch before disappearing with a barely audible plop. I knew I shouldn’t have accepted the job. This had never been my kind of gig.
Sure, I’d chopped off my fair share of toes, thumbs, and ears, and I never let anything stop me from finishing a mission, but now… I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was no way I was going to hurt Scarlett, even if that meant I was fucking up the operation.
You’re in too deep now, I thought, coming to terms with everything that had happened. Ever since that first time together, I had stopped giving a shit about the mission. Sure, I wouldn’t mind seeing it through, just as long as that meant I’d be able to return Scarlett to her life, safe and unharmed. As that seemed more unlikely, though, my priorities shifted.
In the end, it was clear what was happening. Against my best judgement, I had started caring for her. Just two weeks ago, I would’ve laughed at such a stupid thing. I wasn’t in the habit of caring about anyone, and that was even truer if we were talking about a target. Somewhere down the road, though, Scarlett had stopped being a target. She was just… Scarlett.
Leaning against the railings, I turned around as I heard a sound coming from inside the cabin. Scarlett was up. Had she heard my conversation with Devlin? If she had, there was no way I’d be able to hide how serious things were getting.
Fuck, what a shitstorm.
Chapter Nineteen
“Will?” I sat on the bed and stifled a yawn as I looked around the cabin.
I was still naked, the bedsheet bunched up around my waist, but I didn’t bother covering myself. After all, Will had already seen every inch of my naked body. It was too late to play coy now, not to mention I enjoyed the way he couldn’t help himself around my nakedness.
Stretching my back, I looked around the cabin, but Will was nowhere to be seen. I got up, grabbed my clothes from the floor, and got dressed. My hair was a disheveled mess, and even though I tried to finger-comb the strands, it didn’t help much. The saltiness in the air made it curly and wild, and I knew I needed a long shower before I’d be able to tame my mane.
I padded my way toward the door but, when I heard voices outside, I froze. Will was out on the deck, and he spoke with someone. Had someone from his organization landed on the yacht while I slept? He didn’t tell me he was waiting for anyone, so what the hell was going on?
Quietly, I pressed my ear against the door, and only then did I realize the only voice I heard was Will’s. He had to be talking on the phone. I was about to open the door and step outside when he raised his voice, and his words gave me pause.
“I’m not going to chop off one of her fucking toes.” It felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. “I promised her she wouldn’t be hurt and—”
Holy shit. That didn’t sound good.
Instinctively, I looked down at my feet and wiggled my toes. I couldn’t imagine my father being happy about receiving a toe in the mail, but I didn’t believe it would convince him to fork over the money either. Hell, they could mail him an entire foot, and I doubt that’d make a difference.
Slowly, I pushed the door open and I stepped outside. Will leaned against the railings, his hair gently ruffled by the sea breeze. The creases on his forehead had deepened into hard lines. He tried smiling when he noticed me leaving the cabin, but I could tell he was just trying to put on a mask. Whatever conversation he had been having, it hadn’t gone well. Then again, a conversation that involved plans to mail toes was bound to leave anyone in a foul mood.
“So,” I started. “Which of my toes are you going to cut off?”
“You heard.”
“I did.” Nodding, I headed toward him. I placed my hands on the railings, the hem of my dress flapping in the wind, and allowed my eyes to be drawn by the ocean’s calm surface. “I heard you say you wouldn’t do it, so thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he grumbled. “I’m not in the habit of going around chopping people up.” He paused, almost as if he remembered that his job involved exactly that. “I mean, it’s not my favorite thing in the world.”
“I assume my father’s not cooperating?” I already knew the answer to that question. The asshole was probably drinking a celebratory whiskey and smoking a fat Cuban cigar, gleeful about the fact I had disappeared off the face of the earth. Sure, he did pay for most of my expenses—fair enough—but I knew it was only a matter of appearances. He wanted to position himself as an All-American do-gooder whose spoiled daughter had turned on him and, lo and behold, some publications had taken the bait.
“No, he hasn’t paid yet,” Will’s voice was clipped. I could tell he struggled. “My associates believe we need to push him harder than we have, and that’s why they wanted me to…”
“Cut off one of my toes. Right.”
“Don’t worry, though. I’m not gonna do that.”
“Then what now?”
His lips turned into a thin, straight line. He looked away from me, his gaze locked on the horizon. Even though he didn’t speak, I heard a hundred gears turning inside his head. Whatever the situation, it sure as hell wasn’t good. So far, I had felt safe around him, but would that last? I had no idea what kind of influence Will wielded in his organization. If his associates wanted to kill me, would he be able to stop my death?
“I’m not sure,” he finally spoke. “The family isn’t that forgiving of those who break rank. I assume they might send someone to look for us.”
“What for?” My stomach lurched as fear gripped me tightly. It was bad enough I had been kidnapped, but now it seemed like my situation was about to get worse.
“They’ll probably want to assess my loyalty,” Will replied. “If push comes to shove, they might even put a bullet between my eyes.” He turned to look at me and, for the first time since I stepped onto the deck, he gave me a genuine smile. �
�Or, you know, they’ll try. It’s not like I’m going to make it easy.”
“Would they really try to kill you?” My fingers tightened around the railing so much my knuckles turned white. I knew he cared for me, even if just a little, but I had never expected him to put his life on the line. Now, here he was, proclaiming he was more than willing to fight against his own association just to keep me safe. The world had been turned upside down. Up was down, down was up, and the Big Bad Wolf was now my rescuer. “That’s insane. You’ve kidnapped me. You’re doing what they want.”
“The way they see it, I’m not trying hard enough.”
“Jesus,” I breathed out, suddenly feeling dizzy. Gritting my teeth, I gave myself an encouraging nod and turned to Will. “All right, you can cut off one of my toes. I won’t be able to wear sandals ever again, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”
“You—what?”
“You can cut off one of my toes,” I repeated, trying to put as much steel and determination behind my voice as I could. I was actually surprised at how confident I sounded. In truth, I was scared shitless. I didn’t even like needles, let alone knives or whatever these guys used to slice people up. “I don’t want anyone to come after you, Will.”
“You can’t be serious.” He shook his head and lowered his gaze. To his sides, his hands balled into fists. “I put you in this mess, and you’d still do something like that for me? Scarlett, I…” He trailed off, and his voice carried a gentle tone I wasn’t used to. He was usually so brash and confident, and it threw me off balance to see him almost tamed. “Thank you, but no.”
“I’m serious,” I insisted. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt.” Then he closed the distance between us. Laying one hand on my waist, he used the other to brush the hair away from my face. He smiled, and I smiled back. “If these fuckers try anything, they’re going to regret it. This isn’t my first rodeo, Scarlett. I can handle myself.”
“Where does that leave us then?”
“I don’t know.” Then he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes, enjoying the way his lips felt when pressed to mine, and in that moment, everything was right with the world. “We’ll figure it out, though. Whatever happens, no one’s gonna touch a single hair on your head.”
“Thank God for that,” I laughed, “because my hair is shit right now. I don’t want anyone to touch it.” I placed one hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. I still didn’t know how it had happened, but I felt safe around him. The man who had kidnapped me was the one who made me feel safe. If that wasn’t ironic, I didn’t know what was.
“I mean it,” he whispered. “I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He wet his lips and rocked softly on his heels, almost as if he was readying himself to say something. Then, when he finally spoke, his words hit me like a brick. “I love you, Scarlett. I really do. Whatever it takes to protect you, I will do it. I don’t give a fuck if I have to go against my family, your father, or the entire fucking world… just as long as you’re safe, I’m more than ready to beat them into a pulp.”
For a moment, I said nothing.
I just stood there, looking at him as if I was seeing him for the first time in my life. I took in every line of his face, every angle of his chiseled jaw, and my heart tightened into the shape of a small coin. I knew that he cared for me, but this? To say I wasn’t expecting it would put it mildly.
“I love you too,” I found myself saying, the words slipping out from between my lips before I even knew what I’d said. It was true, though. Somehow, I had fallen in love with him. The Big Bad Wolf had turned into my protector, and my heart had opened up to let him in. Stepping forward, I fell into his embrace, laying my head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around me.
He laid one hand on the nape of my neck, cradling me against his chest, and soon enough we were kissing again. Our lips were like the two remaining pieces of a puzzle, and they clicked together so perfectly that—
“What’s that?” Pulling back from him, I shaded my eyes from the sun with one hand. In the distance, backlit by the orange sun, a small dot seemed to be moving toward us. As the seconds passed, that dot acquired the contours of something resembling a small boat.
“Fuck,” Will growled. “That’s not good.”
Chapter Twenty
The red sun squatting low on the horizon splashed me and Scarlett with gentle light, belying our dire circumstances as I peered intently at the approaching boat.
“What do you see?” Scarlett prompted, looking to me with concern written over her freckled features.
“Trouble,” I replied grimly. Dashing back inside the cabin, I retrieved a pair of binoculars residing in a magnetic case adhered to a metal support strut. Once back outside, I lifted them to my face and adjusted the focus with a practiced twitch of my index finger.
The boat resolved itself into an open-air single deck speeder. Probably a rental, judging from its worn glitter paint and the decal on the side featuring a crab in a life vest. Why would a crab need a life vest? But I digress.
Inside the boat were no less than seven men, maybe more, and they did not look like sportsmen out for a joyride. Hard expressions marred their already blunt and rugged features, haircuts at least a decade out of style, and a definite gritty edge.
Probably Russians, or Eastern Europeans, and definitely hired muscle. I could tell that even if I didn’t see the AR-15 barrel jutting out from behind one man’s shoulder.
I worried I’d made a mistake by moving us out of the safe house. Perhaps that’s when they got onto our tail? But there was no way of knowing. It was equally possible that this team of scoundrels had stormed the beach house first, and then extrapolated our destination from there.
In any event, I thought of the snub nosed .38 revolver I carried in my pocket and realized it was no match for even a single AR-15-wielding thug. And there were far more than one.
“Get inside,” I snapped at Scarlett. “Get low, as low as you can.”
She looked from my grim face to the approaching boat and then rushed to obey. Scarlett plastered herself on the floor of the cabin, wedging herself between the metal wet bar and the kitchen console.
I dashed up to the pilot’s compartment, taking the steps two at a time, and churned the engine to life. The yacht surged forward, spraying frothy water out the aft deck as our twin propellers twirled like whirling dervishes. I opened up the throttle all the way and angled our flight so we were taking the low Atlantic sea waves head on.
“Brace yourself, Scarlett!” I shouted over my shoulder as we hit the first raised hump of water. Though only a couple of feet, we hit the swell hard enough to take flight for a dozen feet, splashing back down and submerging the aft deck enough that the white sofa got wet.
Then it was on to the next wave, and the next, me just barely able to keep control of the yacht through the choppy seas. Every time we touched back down on the water, it was a struggle to keep her from fishtailing and spinning out.
Our yacht came equipped with lots of gadgets, including rear-facing cameras with a cockpit display. I spared a glance back at our pursuers while we were in a trough. My eyes narrowed as I realized they were, in fact, gaining upon us. They were now less than five hundred feet behind.
Their craft was lighter and gained more air on every jump. This didn’t quite work to their advantage, however, since their pilot wasn’t as used to his craft as I was to the yacht. I saw him frantically trying to turn the wheel and catch a rogue swell at the right angle, but we both knew he’d be too late.
I couldn’t suppress a shout of triumph when the vessel hit the wave awkwardly and twisted slightly in the air. The boat splashed down hard, rocking the men inside of it before the propellers caught traction. Our pursuing boat skewed wildly to the side, tossing one of the men overboard with a terrified shout.
Watching carefully, I soon determined they were not going to stop
and fish him out. Only one of the men even seemed concerned that they had a man overboard. This pissed me off because I put a high value on loyalty.
Not that I had been loyal enough to the firm to cut off one of Scarlett’s toes, no matter how willing she may have been to go through with the torture. I swore no harm would come to her, and I damn sure meant the words.
Their error had cost them precious time, however. We gained nearly a thousand feet while their pilot recovered control of the boat. Yet regain control was what he did, and soon enough they gained on us once more.
The sun had just kissed the ocean, no longer quite a red circle in the sky as we passed a buoy declaring we were now in international waters. Not that I’d been expecting—or wanting—help from the authorities, but it was a grim reminder of how alone we really were. Those men could kill us with literally zero witnesses to tell the tale.
That whole saying about there being no God in international waters—it’s not far from the mark. I checked the rear-facing camera monitor and found that they were less than three hundred feet away.
I did the calculations in my head. The AR-15 had a maximum effective range of four hundred meters, meaning they were well within rifle shot of our craft.
But most people couldn’t fire accurately at more than fifty feet. That number dwindled the farther from your target you got. They weren’t wasting their ammunition yet, but soon enough they’d be in range.
When I first enlisted, I was no stranger to guns. Unlike Scarlett, I never had a problem with firearms, and I figured I was in for no surprises in the armed forces. However, I was quite wrong. An AR-15’s destructive power is a nightmare to behold. One of our drill instructors rigged up a pig carcass on a target as an analogue to show us what happens when it hits a human body.
That pig exploded into shredded meat and splintered bone, causing the most jaded of us to gape in horror. It was a hard lesson, deeply imbedded, and it was supposed to make us think twice before pulling the trigger because friendly fire isn’t all that friendly, and does anyone really want to turn the ten-year-old Iraqi child throwing bricks at their position into shredded meat? Or did everyone want to accept the hit on their helmet and let him have a chance to grow up decent?
