Morning Star (Broken Mercenaries Book 3)

by S. Massery

  “I’m sorry about the whole drugging thing,” he says. “Amy didn’t want to do it, but she has stuff at stake, too, you know?”

  “And taking everyone hostage?” Delia asks. “Threatening my baby?”

  “If you didn’t hold your stomach so protectively, I would’ve thought you were just a little bloated from dinner.” He shrugs. “Anyway, it was just part of the act.”

  “We don’t believe you,” Hadley says.

  “Figured as much,” he mutters. He opens the door wider, revealing Colin.

  I stand as he comes into the room.

  “He get you, too?” I ask.

  Colin snorts. “Fat chance of that. He brought me to try and convince you that he actually does want to help you escape.”

  “I’m surprised you left Safe Haven,” I admit.

  He takes my hands, his index and middle finger pressing into my wrist. “He told me what he drugged you with. How do you feel?”

  “Fine. Where’s Dalton?”

  “And the rest of them?” Hadley adds. “Who are you, by the way?”

  “Colin Bloss,” Colin says. “Served with this jackass’s brother and Dalton in the Marines.”

  “And you’re here to help us?” Delia asks.

  Luca groans. “Enough of the inquisition,” he says. “We have maybe two minutes before another guard comes up and spoils the whole plot.”

  Delia and Hadley don’t know Colin. They watch him warily, like he’s just as bad as Luca. Not true.

  I catch both of their eyes and say, “If Colin trusts Luca, we should, too. At least until he gets us out of here.”

  “Great,” Delia snaps. “Let’s go.”

  We file out into the hallway, and I almost trip over a fallen guard.

  Luca drags him into the room, locking the door behind him, and smiles. “He’ll have a pleasant awakening.”

  “You’re kind of twisted,” Hadley mutters.

  “Have I been out of it for a while?” I ask Delia, leaning into her. It’s hard to walk straight with all the bright lights drilling into my eyes.

  “Not too long,” she says. “Maybe an hour?”

  I glance back at Colin. “How’d you get here so fast?”

  “D had texted me to come this morning. I wasn’t able to get away until mid-afternoon, and even on his bike I hit traffic.” He shrugs. “Better that I got here late, in time to get Luca’s call and not get towed in with the rest of you.”

  Luca leads us down the hall, to a staircase, and he tells us to let him do the talking if we’re stopped. Miraculously, we don’t encounter anyone until we’re outside the building.

  “Now what?” I hiss. It looks like a big compound, surrounded by a chain-link fence. “It isn’t like we can jump the fence and go.”

  “No,” Colin says. “We’ll hoist you over, and you’ll meet up with Zach and Reece.”

  Hadley brightens. “Reece came, too?”

  “Flew in just a little while ago,” Colin says, leading us in a crouching run across a gravel road to the fence.

  No automatic lights flicker on, no alarms start going off, and we all breathe easier for a second.

  Luca whistles. A second later, Zach materializes out of the dark.

  “Hey, ladies,” he says. His face is painted in dark greens and browns, perfectly camouflaged when he closes his eyes. With his eyes open, they’re practically illuminated. “Let’s get you over to safety, yeah?”

  Colin smiles at Delia. “You first?”

  She scowls. “If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d be rushing back in there to find Jackson.” Still, she puts her foot in Luca’s hands and lets him boost her over the fence.

  Zach catches her, hands on her waist, and lowers her to the ground. “Easy. Hadley, come on.” He rubs his palms together.

  She does the same, stepping into Luca’s hand and scrambling over the top of the fence. I back away slowly, escaping Colin and Luca’s notice until I’m almost in the middle of the road.

  “Okay, now… Grace?” Colin starts toward me, but Luca grabs him back.

  He pats Colin’s chest. “Let’s not be irrational here,” he says. “If Grace wants to go on a suicide mission…”

  “Let me back over,” Hadley demands.

  Zach’s arm binds across her collarbone. He holds Delia in his other arm, and he slowly inches backward.

  Hadley snaps, “Zachary Laurent, you release me right now.”

  “I’m going to find them,” I promise. I look pointedly at Luca. “With or without help.”

  He groans. “Fine. Fine, I’ll get you to them. That was my next stop anyway…”

  Luca and Colin walk back toward me, and Luca continues to mutter under his breath. Mainly about what an idiot I am, and everyone else is.

  “At least we got them out,” I say to Colin.

  Luca takes my arm. “Just go with it, would you?”

  Colin grunts. “Gentle, man.”

  “I’m being fucking gentle,” he says. “Forgive me if I’m a little tense that we’re going back into the enemy’s lair.”

  “Except you just said you were going to go back in,” I point out. “Now you just have more pairs of eyes.”

  “Just what I needed,” Luca answers. “Okay, here’s the deal. Last I knew, Dalton was being kept separate from the others. I’m thinking we sneak the others out, then deal with Dalton.”

  I frown. “You want to leave Dalton—the person Marco most wants to hurt—in there the longest?”

  Colin shakes his head as we enter the building. “If we’re going in terms of success probability,” he says, “Luca’s right.”

  The hallways are winding, and we pass row after row of offices. The whole thing was once used as a distribution center, with offices up front and a warehouse at the back. There’s faint noise, and a few times we duck into an office, pressing against a wall until a guard turns out of sight.

  “Here,” Luca finally says. He cracks open a door and peers in, then jerks back.

  The door flies open, and Jackson’s hands go around Luca’s neck.

  “Hey, hey,” I call, startled at the immediate violence.

  They hit the opposite wall. Luca’s hands scramble against Jackson’s hands and forearms. “Jackson Skye,” I snap, smacking his arm. “He’s not the enemy. Not right now anyway.”

  Jackson blinks, coming back to himself. “Grace. Where’s—?”

  “He helped us get her out.” I gesture to Luca.

  Jackson slowly releases his grip. Luca gasps, his own hands going to his throat as he slides to the floor.

  “Do you know Colin? He served in the Marines with Dalton.” I point back to Colin, who gives a small wave.

  Mason and Griffin have filtered out, too, and everyone stares at me. “Right. Well, I’m going on to get Dalton, since he’s…”

  I swallow. I don’t know where he is, but I do know that Marco would want to kill him in front of me. The fact that the alarms haven’t started going off, and everything is quiet, can only mean one thing: they haven’t figured out we’re missing.

  We’re running on limited time.

  “Zach’s here?” Mason asks.

  “He has Delia and Hadley?” Griffin asks.

  “Yeah. Reece, too.”

  They all nod like he was expected. I don’t know this Reece guy, but the rest seem familiar with his name. Hell, they probably invited him to the party.

  “We’re going to check on them.”

  Colin holds up his hands. “Wait, Zach told me to give you these.” He distributes earbuds to the guys, then looks at me apologetically. “I don’t think Zach expected you to come back with us.”

  I shrug. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

  We break off, Griffin, Jackson, and Mason heading toward the exit, and Luca, Colin, and me creeping toward the warehouse. We come out on the second floor, overlooking a warehouse that is filled with crates and pallets.

  And men. So many men.

  Marco stands on a platform, holding a handgun.


  Colin sucks in a breath and pulls us back into the shadows, pointing to the crates. “Did you know they had this kind of firepower?” he asks Luca. “They could destroy half of Miami…”

  “More like two thirds of it,” I whisper.

  “We’re going to rule this city,” Marco yells, and the crowd cheers. “We take them unaware. They’re sleeping in their beds, unaware of the threat. They’ve taken and taken from the Argento line, pushing us until we made our home in a small corner of the city.” People boo, lifting their weapons over their heads. He’s riling them up, and from the grin on his face… he loves it. “We’re taking back what’s ours through blood!”

  Only blood can atone for our sins. My conversation with Dalton comes roaring back. At the time, I had wondered whose blood was going to be spilled, but now I’m afraid I know the answer.

  Mine. Dalton’s. And two families that will be wiped off the map.

  I back away from the warehouse, slipping past Luca and Colin. Marco’s words hold them captive, horror scrawled across their faces. I keep walking backward, right into a pair of hands.

  “Easy there, honey,” my dad says in my ear.

  I freeze, and he puts one hand on my shoulder. He continues walking me backward until Colin and Luca notice I’m not with them. They turn around, and both of them pause at the gun pointed in their direction. Its muzzle is even with my ear. If he were to fire a shot, it would probably burst my eardrum.

  “You boys got into some trouble,” Dad says. “Now you’re going to walk toward me and go into this office. Any sudden movements, and I pull the trigger.”

  “Yes, sir,” Luca says. He leads the way, and they both file into one of the offices to our left.

  Dad gives me a slight push between my shoulder blades. “Lock that.”

  I do, then turn and face him. He looks… tired.

  “You wandering around, searching for Morning Star and his friends?” He grunts, gesturing for me to follow him. “It’s easy to get sucked into Marco’s speech. We’re going to rule the city by the end of this. And then we’ve got our sights on a bigger prize.”

  “Where do I fall into this?” I ask. My voice quivers. “You know what kind of a person he is—why would you promise him… me?”

  Dad scowls, and it hits me that he doesn’t see anything wrong with Marco’s behavior. Marco and my dad are alike, two beasts hiding under the guise of normalcy. More alike than Dad and Javier ever were, I’d guess.

  He pushes open the door to the stairwell, leading me down. When we get to the bottom, we’re at the warehouse entrance.

  I dig in my heels.

  Dad pushes the gun into my spine. “Walk, daughter.”

  I do, grudgingly, casting my eyes around at the men in the warehouse. They separate like they’re water and I’m oil. Marco is still talking to them, ranting about something, but his words stick in his throat when he sees me.

  “Ah,” he calls. “My lovely bride-to-be.”

  I wince.

  “Excuse us, gentlemen. We have business to attend to.” He smiles. “Go out and conquer. You have your assignments.”

  There’s a flurry of movement around us, but no one breaks into the bubble Dad and I have created. In a matter of moments, the warehouse doors are thrown open, and everyone is climbing into vehicles.

  I close my eyes and count to ten. When I reopen them, Marco and I are alone.

  “Did you hear my speech?” he asks, jumping off the platform. “We’re going to be king and queen of Miami.”

  I shake my head, but then I freeze. My dad leads Dalton in through a side door. His arms are bound behind him, and he’s lost his shirt. Fresh blood drips down his stomach.

  “What did you do—?” I rush forward, but Marco catches me around the middle.

  He half-carries, half-drags me away from Dalton, throwing me against a crate.

  I grab the side of it so I don’t slide down it. My legs are jelly.

  Marco sneers at me. “God, Grace, I’m beginning to think you like him better than me.”

  Dad brings Dalton forward. Dalton isn’t quite conscious, and his feet slide on the concrete. His eyes keep fluttering, like he wants to be awake, but sleep won’t release him. Dad lets go of him, and he sags to his knees.

  Marco nods at me, and I lunge toward Dalton.

  I grab his shoulders, his chin. “Wake up,” I beg. “Come on.” Everything inside me is howling. There’s fury and fear in a death match in my chest. I look over my shoulder at Marco. “What did you do to him?”

  “Just a little sedative,” Dad answers. “He was screaming too much.”

  I close my eyes and lean my head forward, touching Dalton’s shoulder. They’re allowing this, I tell myself. They’re allowing this goodbye.

  “Wake up,” I whisper to Dalton. I touch his face, his hair.

  He blinks at me.

  To Marco, I ask, “What are you going to do?”

  Marco tuts, coming forward and winding his hand in my hair. He hauls me backward, and pain erupts in my head. I grab on to his wrist, hoping to lighten the agony as I slide across the concrete.

  When he releases me, I drop straight on my back. My chest heaves.

  “I can’t spoil the surprise,” Marco says, leaning over me. “Sal, wake him up.”

  Dad delivers a sharp slap to Dalton’s face.

  Nothing.

  He bends down and digs his fingers into the wound in his abdomen, and suddenly Dalton is awake, alive, struggling against his bonds. He stares around, and then his gaze lands on mine. He’s burning, fiery anger that just wants to be unleashed.

  If we survive this, we’re both going to need therapy.

  “Dad,” I choke out. I’m too aware that I’m not tied up. They’re keeping me immobile through fear, and fear alone. I get my father’s eyes on me. Dalton’s, too, but I ignore him. “How could you do this to him? He’s—”

  “Don’t say innocent,” Marco warns. “He killed Frank. Dozens of others.”

  “That was because your father ordered them—”

  “Shut up,” Dad hisses. “This will all be over soon, and you and Marco can move on with your lives.”

  I shudder, turning my body into the concrete. Hands run along my hair, down my back. My skin crawls.

  Marco’s lips are on my ear. “Do you remember what happened when you kissed another boy, Grace?”

  I’m sixteen again, opening the box with my boyfriend’s index finger sitting on bloody gauze. I can’t stop shaking.

  “I think you did more than kiss him, isn’t that right?” He lifts me by the back of my neck, twisting me so I can see his finger stretched out toward Dalton. “And you know the price they have to pay.”

  My body is lead.

  He straightens and walks toward Dalton, a knife suddenly gleaming in his hands.

  “You wouldn’t,” I whisper.

  It’s the wrong thing to say. It’s practically a dare for Marco, and his grin just gets more sadistic.

  I climb to my feet. “Stop.”

  They didn’t pat me down—they probably didn’t suspect me of having anything on me and didn’t bother to confirm it. The knife pricks my skin when I stand.

  Marco just shakes his head. “What do you think, Grace? An index finger like the last one? When he’s not perfect anymore—when no one is perfect, maybe then you’ll love me. Maybe then you’ll see that I’m never going to fucking let you go.”

  Dalton’s eyes widen as Marco brings the knife to his hand. He throws his head back, smashing into Marco’s already-bruised face. I gasp. Dalton falls backward, onto his hands, and Marco stumbles away.

  “Fuck!” Marco screams, his hand covering his face. “You broke my fucking nose. You’re going to pay for that, Morning Star.” His fingers flex on the knife, and he starts forward again.

  Sudden fear that he isn’t going to just cut off his finger, but maybe his head, washes through me.

  I run forward. I drop my knife next to Dalton and tackle Marc
o. We fall together. He inadvertently cushions my landing. The air is pushed from his lungs. He gapes at me for a moment, and then I punch him in the nose. It’s already bloody—the perfect target—and he roars with pain. I hit him again and again until someone yanks me off him.

  Dad.

  He tosses me away, and I stagger back at him.

  “How could you?” I yell. I push him, leaving two bloody handprints on his shirt. “You couldn’t just love me, could you? You couldn’t just choose to do what’s right for your family.” I shove him again, surprised when he staggers back a step.

  All I’m doing is provoking a bull.

  “You’re going to lose me. You drove Mom away, and you wouldn’t ever tell me where she is. You drive everyone away.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Dad groans. His whole face is contorting, mottled red. “But I do know what’s going to end this.” He draws his gun, and for a split second, I imagine him turning it on me.

  Javier predicted this when I overheard their conversation. God, it feels like months ago. Marco won’t be the one to break her. I think it’ll be you. I think he might be right.

  He spins around, but Dalton is gone.

  Gone.

  “Where did he go?”

  The binds that held him are on the floor.

  Marco pushes himself up. “You’re delusional,” he mutters to me. “To think your dad is the good guy in this situation.” He laughs, climbing to his feet.

  “Don’t,” Dad says.

  Marco is focused on me, lasering in like I might be able to redeem him. His eyes are swelling shut, blood pouring down his face. His nose sits at an odd angle. “He owes my family so much fucking money, Grace. He was the one who wanted to sell you off to cover his debt. He was the one who sent us to collect you from our house the night of the twins’ party.”

  I shake my head. “You’re lying.”

  “Tell her, Sal,” Marco says, sneering at him. “Tell her how you doubled down on your misfortune—first by promising Javier you’d bring her back, if only to actually go through with the sale—and then by agreeing with my demands.” He’s so fucking smug as he walks up to us. “Your dear old dad agreed to give you to me. And then you disappeared, and the hunt was on. It was him against the clock.”

  “I said stop, Marco,” Dad says. That’s his dangerous voice. The one he uses on people he wants to cow.