Redemption (Men of Honor Book 2)

by Michelle Horst

I’m not thinking of ways to hurt them back.

  I’m just not thinking.

  What’s the use of thinking? I’m already dead.

  They killed my will to live.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CARA

  “Girlie!” The whisper comes from the old man. He’s standing right outside the door. It’s too early for him to bring me food.

  Maybe it’s my last meal.

  A humorless chuckle bubbles over my lips. Hah! Like I’ll be able to keep anything down.

  “Get ready to run,” he whispers.

  The door creaks open and my head snaps up, but he’s already gone. I’m not sure I heard him right. Did he say run?

  The door stands wide open and sunlight streams in. I can’t move a muscle. I’m scared out of my mind.

  I hear gravel crunching under a heavy footfall. A dark figure appears in the doorway and I cower back.

  “Please,” I whimper. Yes, I’m begging for my worthless life.

  I don’t know how many times I’ve said that word in the last few hours. They’ve degraded me until all that’s left is a beggar, pleading for the crumbs of my life that’s scattered around me.

  The man stalks toward me and I whimper, recoiling back like the coward I am. When he kneels down next to me, I anticipate a blow, but instead he shrugs out of his jacket. I press harder into the walls. I can’t take being raped again. They should rather just kill me.

  Repulsion and hatred wells up inside me as flashes of the night tortures me. The true nightmare is the memories you have to face when you’re awake. Every time it feels like you’re able to take a breath, they just drag you down deeper, suffocating you more.

  “Move forward,” the man snaps icily. He doesn’t wait for me to move. When he takes hold of my shoulders, his hands are firm. I recoil from his touch, but he pulls me up onto unsteady legs and forces my arms into the sleeves. I hear the zip go up and then I feel his fingers close around mine, taking hold of my hand in a really tight grip.

  My first thought is to wonder what kind of rapist dresses his victim.

  My second thought is that he’s not going to rape me, but kill me, and I’m not sure how I feel about dying.

  There were times during the night that I wished they would just kill me. I’m not scared of dying, but rather where I’ll end up afterwards. I’m not sure where I’ll go and that makes fear bleed into my soul until I’m a shaking, sobbing mess.

  “Stay behind me at all times. Do not scream. Do not get in front of me.” His voice is hard. It takes a split second for the meaning of his words to sink into my terrified mind. I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, and I don’t have time to ponder his words because he’s already moving and pulling at my arm.

  I give my first unsteady step forward and then I have my third clear thought – could he actually be helping me? Dare I hope that he’s here to save me?

  The second step hurts, and with every movement the stickiness and raw ache between my legs reminds me of the vile things they did to me.

  When we reach the door, my breaths are desperate gasps as I try to swallow down the pain and harrowing memories.

  “I’ll set the room on fire, Predator. You do your job,” the old man says to the man holding my hand.

  What the hell kind of name is Predator?

  He pulls me in behind him and my chest closes up when he lets go of my hand.

  Shit, this is it!

  Oh, my God. I’m not ready to die.

  My heart pounds in my ears and I’m well aware of the fact that each of those heartbeats might be my last.

  But then he reaches for me with his left hand and I grab for it desperately.

  I don’t care what his name is as long as he’s here to help me.

  ‘Please let him be here to help.’

  “I need my right hand free,” he whispers darkly. My eyes dart to his face and I’m filled with horror all over again. This man is easily the scariest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Every line on his face is pronounced as he pulls a gun from behind his back. I didn’t even see it where it was tucked into the back of his pants. My throat and mouth dry right up and I can’t swallow the thick spit that’s coating the inside of my mouth. He nudges me a little, until I’m right behind him, and then I remember what he said - I have to stay behind him.

  I cling to his hand and arm with both my hands. We walk towards a simple looking house. Heat flares up behind me and I glance over my shoulder. The old man has set a shipping container alight.

  Then reality dawns on me. I was held in a shipping container. How easy it would’ve been to dispose of my body.

  Fuckers!

  “We’re going to walk in. We’re going to kill them and we’re going to leave. You do not touch anything. We don’t leave any traces that can lead back to us.” The man is so focused I can feel the intensity of the moment rippling off him in waves.

  “We?” The word pops from my mouth.

  “Glad to see you’re still thinking straight enough to hear what I’m saying,” he says gruffly. The corner of his mouth twitches. “No screaming and no fainting. Oh, and definitely no puking.”

  I take a step back from him, humiliated that he can smell the nauseating smell of vomit on me.

  He moves first and I only move so I can keep up with him. We don’t run. Everything inside of me is screaming at me to make a run for it, but I stay behind him like a pathetic puppet trailing after her master.

  He tightens his grip on my hand when we near the house and I see a muscle jumping in his jaw, which only makes me more nervous.

  As we climb the four stairs to the porch, my vision tunnels on the front door.

  Why the fuck aren’t I running in the opposite direction?

  Why am I just letting him pull me along?

  I should be fighting, kicking and screaming!

  My mind races from absolute panic to that void filled with emptiness.

  I see him lift his arm but nothing can prepare me for the loud bang as he shoots a hole where the lock is. The front door shudders, squeaking at the hinges. And then it all happens in flashes.

  Flashes and loud bangs.

  Screams and blood.

  Men lunge for Predator, but he lets go of my hand, moving fast and with precision, as if he’s done this a million times.

  All I can do is stand rooted, my eyes wide with shock and my heart racing like a wild horse trapped in a burning barn.

  The world slows down around me yet everything races inside of me.

  Every shot he takes hits a target, red blossoms, exactly like you’d see in the movies. Only this isn’t a movie. These are real bodies dropping to the ground, real blood, real screams of terror and for a change I’m not the one screaming.

  “Stay there,” he growls. I stand frozen as I watch him shove open a heavy looking door to my right. I hear cursing. “Fuck!” someone yells and then there are more shots.

  Any normal person would run screaming from this nightmare, but I stand frozen as I watch them die. I imagined a lot of ways for them all to die, but not this, not such easy deaths. I wish they were burning, just like the container outside.

  Predator comes back into the living room. His face looks grim, his eyes constantly searching for a target.

  He looks like a predator. Now I understand his name.

  His eyes settle on me, and just a look from him makes my heart leap to my throat. He lifts the gun a few inches higher and it points directly at my head. The second it takes for his finger to squeeze the trigger, I look into his eyes. They are cold and calculating. There are no emotions, only a loud bang, louder than all the others and I can’t make myself duck for cover. I don’t even flinch as I feel a slight burn on my cheek, and then I hear something heavy drop behind me. I exhale a trembling breath as terror makes my blood race hot through my veins.

  Shit, he could’ve shot me! I can’t even bring myself to curse him.

  “Good girl,” he breathes darkly. He takes my hand a
nd he pulls me toward the front door. I do my best not to look at the bodies but my eyes are drawn to them, soaking them in with a crazy sense of relief.

  We’re almost to the door when I spot the camera. I pull at his arm to get his attention. “Wait, it’s the camera.” It’s lying on the coffee table with the tripod and a small stack of memory cards next to it.

  “And?” he snaps. Obviously he doesn’t know about it.

  “They made recordings of me for-” I stop but I don’t have to say more because he catches on.

  “We need a bag. Touch nothing but the bag.” He’s starting to sound really tense. I don’t like that he’s tense. So far he’s been the calm one between the two of us. We can’t both lose our sanity and it’s clear I’ve totally lost my mind already.

  We find a paper bag in the kitchen. As we rush towards the living room, my foot slams into something hard and I almost trip. I’ve been trying not to look at the dead faces and blood that’s all around me, but my eyes dart down. I see blood, fuck there’s so much! Then recognition sinks hard to the pit of my stomach. It’s Steven! I recoil back with revulsion.

  “Don’t start that shit now. We need to get out of here,” Predator snaps at me. He nudges me forward and with shaking hands I help him shove the camera and memory cards into the bag.

  He grabs my hand again and pulls me out the front door. I look straight ahead of me and then I see grass. I yank free and rush forward as if I’ve finally been set free. Once I’m off the porch, I run as fast as my trembling legs can move.

  I don’t get far before my legs give way and I eat gravel, not grass. I didn’t even make it that far.

  I’m too scared to move.

  I’m too petrified to look back at what’s coming.

  I hear the gravel crunch behind me and my heart sinks. My insides drop and I start to cry. I sob because not even God will help me.

  “Cara.” My head snaps up at the sound of my name. It’s the way he says it, as if he actually cares. It sounds comforting. “It’s time to go. You’re safe now.”

  When he crouches next to me, I get my first good look at him. His dark brown hair is short and neat, shaved at the sides. His face is grim and hard, with a beard that only makes him look grisly and dark. He looks like he’s made of stone. Then I see his eyes, gray eyes. Ferocious eyes.

  I drop my eyes from his. He definitely has eyes that see everything, just like the walls I was trapped between saw everything.

  For a moment emotions threaten to bubble up, to drown me in the horror of what has been done to me, but I close my eyes and focus on the emptiness that’s blackening my soul. I’d rather take the empty feelings over the memories of the nightmare I’ve been living through.

  “We’re going to leave now. Can you walk?’ he asks, ripping me from my dark thoughts. I try to get up but what adrenaline I had is gone now. “Okay, no walking then,” he says. His arms slip under me and he lifts me. I feel small in his arms. He’s so much bigger than me, but I feel small because there’s nothing left of the person I once was.

  He walks and I don’t even care where, as long as it’s far from the container.

  It feels like I’m shutting down, my mind, my body, my soul – every piece of me is tired of fighting.

  “You’re safe. I have you now,” are the last words I hear.

  PROTECTOR

  PROLOGUE

  RILEY

  I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of person. I wanted to save the world, or at least leave my stamp behind.

  I’ve spent the last three years leaving my footprints wherever I felt my help was needed.

  In my own naïve way, I thought I could bribe karma. You know - if I do good, then good will come my way. It’s worked so far, so why would I have any reason to doubt it?

  At the age of twenty-four, I’m happy. It’s that contented kind of happiness not many people ever find in their lives.

  I have parents who love me. I have two brothers who I idolize, especially my oldest brother, Josh. No one can hold a candle to him.

  I’m excited as the plane touches down. Home … finally.

  The flight back from Australia was exhausting. I feel sticky and stinky. But traveling was so worth it. I got to take part in the annual Gouldian Finch Count. It was an amazing experience, counting all those colorful birds. Before that, I traveled around Africa for three years, lending a helping hand wherever I could. It made me feel good.

  That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?

  I did it because it made me feel good. I didn’t do any of it for those people I was helping. I didn’t do it for the animals.

  No, I did it all for me - so karma would have to pay me back in kind.

  That’s how it works. Right?

  I always keep my slate clean. I’m always polite and hardworking. I always smile. I’m the funny one, the shoulder everyone can lean on.

  That has to count for something, right?

  Josh started this thing where he calls me his shooting star. Riley-Star. It caught on in the family. They always joke around and pretend to make wishes on me. I shine so bright. I’m the heart of the family … everyone’s little girl. But every star has to burn out some time.

  Life has a way of teaching us lessons.

  Karma, now there’s a peculiar thing. I never knew how selfish I was until my life was ripped away from me.

  Me. Me. Me.

  It was all about me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  RILEY

  My eyes scan the crowd around me for Josh. I haven’t seen him in so long that a nervous eagerness pulses through me.

  When they finally lock on my brother, I let out a squeal of excitement. I break out into a sprint, swerving through all the people crowding the airport.

  “Josh!” I shriek with happiness. I jump the last distance between us, throwing my whole body at him.

  His laughter bursts over my head and then his arms wrap tightly around me.

  “Riley-Star,” he whispers and it makes my heart glow with warmth. His voice is hoarse, overflowing with love. His arms tighten around me just as a sob escapes my lips. I’m so happy to see my big brother. It’s been way too long.

  “I missed you so much,” I whisper, my voice thick with the overwhelming happiness coursing through my veins.

  “I missed you more,” he says, setting me down on my feet. His eyes sweep over me and then he shakes his head in wonder. “Did you actually get taller?”

  He looks different from when I last saw him. His hair is cut really short, even shorter than when he used to serve in the army. There’s a harsh look to his once kind features. I stand on my toes and manage to look Josh right in the eye. The gentleness quickly creeps back into his dark green eyes, the same color as mine, and it makes me smile.

  “Yeah, one of these days you’ll be looking up at me.” I can’t keep the laughter from bursting over my lips.

  “In your dreams, little sister.” He takes my bags from me and swings one over his shoulder. “Let’s get you home. Mom and Dad can’t wait to see you. Logan even took off from work today.”

  My smile widens, hearing that the whole family is getting together today.

  “I can’t stay long.” Josh bursts my happy bubble. The smile drops from my face which quickly makes him explain. “We’re busy. Griffin’s covering for me so I could come and get you.”

  “How’s Griffin?” I ask.

  I haven’t met Griffin face to face yet, but I’ve exchanged a few emails with him. We started writing to each other back when he was serving with Josh. Out of all the men that were on Josh’s team, Griffin is the only one I still write to every once in a while.

  After Josh retired from the army, he joined Griffin’s security company. I’m not sure what they do. Josh once said they take on jobs that no one else wants. I hate that Josh risks his life on a daily basis but I understand that working in the security business makes him happy.

  “Griffin’s good. Stubborn as always, but go
od.” He smiles down at me. “Hopefully you’ll get to meet him and the rest of the team soon. You’ll love them.”

  “It would be great to finally put faces to the names I keep hearing about, and to see who you spend all your time with.”

  On the way home, Josh fills me in on what I’ve missed out on since his last email. “Logan got a promotion. He worked his ass off for it.”

  “Yeah, he got the brains and you got the beauty … tsk, what does that leave me with?” I say jokingly.

  “All the luck,” Josh laughs.

  “I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I really tried to get home earlier.” I’ve missed too many birthdays and holidays with my family. There’s a lot to make up for.

  “Nothing huge, Riley-Star. Only my thirty-fifth. Your big brother is getting old now.”

  I start to laugh. “Yeah? Soon I can call you grandpa.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growls. There’s a teasing tone to his voice, though, so I know he’s only joking.

  Josh pulls up to the house and I can’t help but stare. It still looks the same as when I left it. Mom’s roses are in full bloom. There’s just something about coming home, it’s the one place you feel centered, where you can fully relax and recharge.

  I grab the smaller bag and wait for Josh to haul the heavy one out of the car.

  “Act surprised. Mom went all out. She’s been up baking and cooking since the crack of dawn,” Josh warns as he opens the front door.

  A smile instantly forms around my lips. That means tons of yummy food. I can’t wait to dig in. It’s one of the things I’ve missed most about home. Nothing beats Mom’s cooking. She’s the best.

  Josh lets me walk in first. I drop my bag in the entrance hall and walk through to the kitchen. The house smells divine with Mom’s cooking, making my mouth water.

  “I’m home,” I call out, all excited to see my family again. I walk into the kitchen and take a deep breath of the tasty aroma hanging in the air.

  “Riley!” Mom shrieks. She comes running towards me and I open my arms wide to brace myself for the impact. She engulfs me in a loving hug.