“Ow! Claire … Did you bite me?” His voice slurred. “Wha di …?”
Eden jumped from the bed and threw a blanket over an unconscious Georges. With the swiftness of a speed dresser, she pulled on clothes she'd set out earlier. Grabbing the few items she wouldn't leave the island without, she turned off the lights and exited the room. The drug should keep him out most of the night. However, if Larue's men were supposed to report in at a certain time and didn't, an alarm would go up. Others would soon be searching the entire island for her.
Every second counted.
Under the cover of darkness, Eden crouched behind one of the few trees on the island. Georges had taken her on a tour of the entire area earlier in the day and she'd asked seemingly innocent questions to determine camera locations and where security roamed.
As Georges had showed her the sights he thought she might be interested or impressed with, she'd become concerned. There seemed to be no secret places he wanted to steer clear of showing her. They'd almost finished their excursion when she spotted a two-story house on top of a small hill overlooking the water and pointed to it. “What's that lonely-looking house up there?”
His mouth grim, there was a slight hesitation before he shrugged and said, “It's empty. My great-aunt lived there and died just recently. We will probably renovate it at some point, but we miss her so much, none of us have had the heart to do anything to it.”
She offered condolences, though warning bells rang in her head. What better place for Marc to keep his victims? The house was far enough away from the rest of the buildings where no one would be bothered by their cries or screams. Despite herself, a shiver of revulsion had run through her, prompting Georges to become concerned she was catching a chill and end their tour.
Eden stayed in the shadows as she crept up the path toward the house she suspected never held the Larues' aunt. Dressed in a long-sleeved black turtleneck shirt and jeans, she'd covered her hair with a black knit cap. A utility belt around her waist held the small but necessary tools of her trade, and in her pant leg she had hidden one of her favorite weapons. She didn't plan on getting caught, but if she did, she felt reasonably prepared.
The reason behind Larue's men showing up at her fake address in search of Jacques Marchand wasn't lost on her. Apparently Georges had asked his father to ease his way into her bed by eliminating the competition. Sleeping with a married woman went against his ethics. Having her husband murdered was not a problem. Thankfully she and Noah had anticipated such a move and had LCR people waiting. But now, speed was even more critical.
A blast of light slammed inches in front of her feet. Dropping to her knees, Eden scrambled behind a giant bush. Dammit, she hadn't known about the spotlights. Her face lowered to the ground. The light could pick up nothing other than pale skin. When the glow disappeared, she dashed up the hill, her legs eating up the distance like a track star.
At the top, she jogged the last few steps to the house and stopped. Crouched low, she took a few seconds to survey the area. Other than the distant sound of waves hitting the shore and muted music from the main house, she heard nothing. She slid a slender knife from a holder sewn into her pant leg. Just because she saw no one, didn't mean the place wasn't guarded. After learning the hard way one too many times, she knew to be prepared for any eventuality.
Bent low, she moved at a quick pace around the house. One small light shone from a second-floor window. A slight smile curved her lips as anticipation and excitement zoomed. The window was opened slightly. If she couldn't go through the door, this would be an easy entrance.
The rest of the residence sat in quiet, somber darkness. With the moon hidden behind the clouds, it was hard as hell to see, but using her small flashlight was out of the question.
About to stand on her toes to peer in a low window, light flooded the front of the house. Eden dropped to the ground and held her breath. Cold fury flashed through her. Marc Larue stepped out of the house, a cruel smirk of satisfaction on his Lucifer-handsome face. He looked supremely pleased and that could only mean one thing. Someone inside the house had fulfilled his perversions.
The knowledge that only a few yards away his daughter was in the midst of celebrating her birthday while he was performing vile acts against a child was almost more than Eden could comprehend. Did the bastard have no limits or control over his blatant wickedness?
Though she wanted nothing more than to leap up on the porch and take him out of this world so he could begin his punishment in hell quicker, she wouldn't. Christina was the mission. The pervert would get his just deserts soon enough.
As Marc swaggered down the hill to the main house, Eden took advantage of the light he'd left on. Jumping over a bush, she ran to the back door and tugged. Locked. A quick glance at the locks told her she could get in with her handy little tool, but it could take several minutes. Minutes she didn't have.
Not taking a chance with the front door, she backed up and threw a rope up to the metal railing of the second-floor balcony and yanked. Hooking the clip to the small harness at her waist, she scampered up the wall and jumped over the side. A jerk on the balcony door—locked. A glance through the glass showed nothing but darkness.
The opened window was her only option.
Eden jumped back up the balcony railing and held tight to the iron rails as she scuttled to the ledge. Thankful for years of ballet and gymnastics classes, she put a foot out on the ledge, bounced a couple of times to test its strength. Her thoughts on her goal, she ignored the hard ground twenty feet below. The ledge, about four inches wide, seemed sturdy enough. Her left hand pressed against the wall, she held her right arm out for balance as she inched heel to toe along the ledge. Halfway to the open window, she heard a creak. Froze. Heard nothing more. She took another step and heard a crack. The ledge was giving way. Adrenaline surged. With a flying leap, she threw herself at the window just as the ledge beneath her feet disappeared. Her hands caught and gripped the windowsill. Body swinging crazily back and forth, her arms strained with the weight. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pushed up and through the window.
Landing on her butt with a hard thud, she ignored the breath rasping from her lungs. Rest could come later. There was no time to waste. One distinct sound caused a painful tug to her heart and had her up on her feet in an instant, running toward the soft sobs.
With such easy access and no apparent security system, Marc obviously had full faith in his ability to keep his prey incarcerated. And no wonder.
At the entrance to an oversized bedroom, Eden gripped the doorjamb and trembled with a familiar but controlled rage. Pale moonlight filtered through the large window, revealing a horror no one, especially a child, should ever know. The room held two queen-sized beds. A girl lay on each bed, nude and chained to the iron posts. Both were quietly crying. One she recognized as Christina. The other she didn't have a clue. But they were both leaving with her.
With slow, careful steps, she backed out the door before either girl saw her, wanting to contact Noah prior to announcing her arrival. Extraction would be from the water. He and four others were sitting in a boat, a mile from shore, ready to respond.
After a brief conversation with Noah, confirming location, Eden returned to the bedroom.
“Christina?”
Head jerking up, a thin, hoarse voice whispered, “Yes.”
Hands at her side in a nonthreatening stance, Eden said, “Your parents sent me to bring you home.”
A harsh sob was her answer.
Taking a tool from her pouch, she unlocked Christina's cuffs and then turned to the other girl. As she twisted the lock on her handcuffs, she asked, “What's your name, honey?”
In a voice so low Eden had to lean close to hear, she whispered, “Amanda.”
“I'm taking you, too, Amanda.”
Though the room was dim, the gleam of hope in her eyes was unmistakable.
Ignoring the obvious signs and scents of sexual abuse, Eden concentrated on t
he most important factor: speed. She opened a closet, relieved to see several items of clothing. Throwing the clothes toward them, she whispered, “Put these on—quick.”
She turned and stood at the window to keep an eye out. Any minute now, Larue's men could be headed their way.
A quick look back reassured her that Christina had dressed and was now assisting the other girl with her clothes. Mrs. Clement was right. Christina was a fighter.
Once both girls were dressed, Eden held up her hand for them to follow her. Knife in one hand, flashlight in the other, she led them down the stairs and to the back door. Flipping the locks, she eased the door open. Peered out … still clear.
Eden shot a quick glance back at the shivering, traumatized young girls, willing them strength for the journey ahead. “We're going down the hill, to the shoreline. A boat will be waiting for us. It rained this morning, so it'll be slippery. Hold on to each other.”
At their nod, Eden stepped out the door and froze. The moon cast a soft glow on the grounds below them, revealing that Marc Larue stood only a few feet away. The menace on his wicked face didn't faze her; she knew she could handle the man. It was the revolver in his right hand that gave her pause.
How the hell did he …? Dammit … motion censors. Why the hell didn't I check?
“Going somewhere, bitch?”
Blocking his view of the girls, Eden marched down the steps toward him. Hands at her side, she wished for her own gun, a .38 Smith & Wesson Airlight she was rarely without. Since she hadn't known if she'd be searched, she hadn't taken the chance on bringing it with her. Knives and small innocuous tools were much easier to hide or explain.
Pulling in a breath to center herself, she kept the knife hidden against her right palm and wrist. “Stand back, Marc. We're leaving.”
“Oh, I don't think so.” The charming man she'd met the day before had disappeared. In his place stood the real Marc Larue, evil personified. “I knew Georges couldn't get a woman like you.”
He shifted his head to flash a smile at the girls cowering behind her. Eden's skin crawled at the loving expression. “Chrissie, you and Mandy, go on back in the house.”
Her tone firm and commanding, she said, “Christina and Amanda, stay right where you are.”
“You really think you can handle me?”
Her snort of laughter held pure contempt. “A slimy, perverted child molester? Yeah, I can whip your ass, no problem.”
An ice-cold mask covered his face as his eyes roamed over her body. “I prefer them younger, but I might just make an exception with you.”
Though the weapon in his hand could be deadly, the awkward and stiff way he held it from his body told her he had little experience with guns.
Advantage, Eden.
In one simultaneous motion, Eden tossed the flashlight behind her and let the knife fly, aiming at the arm holding the gun. Just as the knife sliced into Marc's upper arm, she whipped her foot up in a front kick, knocking the gun from his hand.
With a yelp, Marc grabbed his injured arm. Looking down at the blood seeping through his fingers, he snarled, “You bitch, you'll pay for that.” With a roar, he lunged.
An instant before he reached her, Eden swooped left and dodged him. Marc landed a few feet behind her. Eden whirled and, taking advantage of Marc's teetering balance, kicked his ass hard. He fell face-first onto the walkway with a loud, satisfying crunch. The bastard had broken his nose. Giving him no time to recover, Eden leaped on top of him, knees digging deep into his shoulder blades. Without turning, she addressed the girls: “Christina, take my flashlight.
You and Amanda head down the hillside, toward the water. Don't stop for any reason. I'll be right behind you.”
The patter of footsteps moving away told her they'd obeyed. She bent over the cursing, bucking man beneath her. “You perverted piece of shit, I'd like nothing better than to cut off that pathetic piece of meat between your legs. Sadly, I don't have time.” Grinding her knees deeper into his shoulders, Eden pressed hard into a pressure point under his arm, Marc's muffled squeal of agony an assurance she'd hit the right spot. Then, with one last sob, he relaxed into unconsciousness.
Eden leaped to her feet. Grabbing her knife, she slid it into her tool belt and then took Marc's gun. Without a backward glance, she took off after the girls. Christina and Amanda were her priority no matter how much she'd like to kill the creep.
Thankful for the moonlight, she held on to moss-covered boulders as she made her way down the hillside toward the water. Reaching a giant, craggy rock, she paused to check the girls' location. Relief flooded through her when she caught sight of them at the edge of the sandy beach. Freedom was in sight.
She took half a step forward. Craack. Rock splintered inches from her face. Eden ducked and ran as bullets pinged and zoomed around her. Slipping and sliding on the wet boulders, she ignored the jagged edges of the rocks cutting into her palms as she propelled herself downward.
The rumble of the speedboat racing toward the beach was a beautiful sound. Seeing the girls hesitate and look up at her, Eden shouted, “Keep going!”
They nodded and ran toward the boat. Eden raced toward them. Noah and two others jumped into the shallow water. Guns in hand, they laid down fire cover as the girls were pulled onto the boat. Eden took a flying leap and landed on the deck.
Breath wheezing from overtaxed lungs, she lay on her back and listened as a torrent of shots were exchanged. A thump had her twisting her head sideways to see that Noah had jumped on board. At his shout of “Let's go,” her eyes closed in relief.
Pounding heart and aching lungs now eased, Eden sat up. Wind whipped water spray into her face as the boat raced toward their waiting yacht. Her heart clutched to see the young girls huddled together on a bench, blankets covering their shoulders. They looked shell-shocked and dazed. But they were alive. Now the healing could begin.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up as a grinning Noah offered her a cup of coffee and shouted over the roar of the motor, “You okay?”
Nodding, Eden gratefully accepted the steaming liquid and took a long swallow of sugar-laced caffeine. As she watched the shoreline disappear, extreme satisfaction banished exhaustion. Oh to be a fly on the wall at the Larue mansion.
Damn, she loved her job.
eight
Three Days Later
Noah gazed out over the city that had become his home. He'd been here so long, sometimes it was hard to remember the tiny Mississippi community where he'd grown up. He'd been wilder than a feral cat and meaner than a junkyard dog—at least that's what his part-time preacher, full-time alcoholic father shouted as they'd dragged Noah away that day. The years he'd spent in prison had taken much of the wildness and meanness out of him. Unfortunately they'd also left a cold, detached bastard in his place.
That's what Eden would accuse him of when she discovered he'd asked Jordan Montgomery to work for LCR on the Larue project. It took a lot to impress Noah. He could count on one hand the number of people who'd managed to do that. Eden wouldn't be surprised she was one of them; she might be surprised Jordan was also. The man had a mighty impressive background.
Working for an ultrasecret government agency, whose employee turnover rate rivaled a fast-food restaurant due to its lack of support if an agent found himself in trouble, was impressive enough. Finding out Jordan spent fifteen years with said agency told him a lot more. Jordan Montgomery found his own way out of problems and knew how to take care of himself. Noah needed that kind of person working for LCR. It was the only kind he hired.
Eden had completed her assignment. Christina Clement and Amanda Blackburn were back with their families. They would receive the counseling they needed to help them move on and someday go on to lead productive lives. Another LCR mission accomplished.
An unsurprising incident occurred a few days after Christina returned to her family. Marc Larue's Mercedes was blown to hell … with Marc inside, speeding straight toward his reward in the fiery
pit. Marc had a new and permanent home and the devil was his new playmate.
Hector Clement had fittingly punished the man who'd raped and tortured his daughter.
Sources revealed that Alfred Larue was now out for vengeance. Since neither Claire nor Jacques Marchand existed, his search for them would be fruitless and any revenge plans pointless. Albert might link Claire to LCR, but that wasn't a concern, either. LCR employees and locations existed in full anonymity.
At the sound of a soft buzz, he turned. Montgomery was on his way up. They'd have a few minutes to chat before Eden arrived. She knew nothing about Montgomery's involvement or his search for Devon. She thought the meeting was to give a final report on the Larue mission and then to discuss her next assignment. And that was correct. She just had no knowledge she would have a partner.
Noah felt a slight tug in the area where his heart should be. He ignored it. Eden had known from the beginning that to toughen yourself up, you had to expect the unexpected in sometimes a truly horrific forum. Having Montgomery here when she arrived would either blast her to pieces or toughen her defenses. If it did the first, she didn't belong with LCR. If it toughened her even further, then there was an added benefit to inviting Montgomery into their realm.
The door opened and Jordan Montgomery walked in. Noah sensed immediately that not only had he been checked out, Montgomery was on high alert. The man now knew how powerful Noah was and was wondering if this was set up. Montgomery had excellent instincts. Those instincts probably saved his life numerous times and would be an asset to LCR. For Noah, the small bite of conscience of manipulating people to do his will disappeared. All operatives of LCR were expendable. It was something both Eden and Montgomery were used to and expected. Noah would make no excuses for doing what he had to do to get the job done.
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