Midnight Revenge

by Elle Kennedy

  Sullivan knew when to admit defeat. Reluctantly, he parted his lips, nearly gagging when she gently pressed the pill on his tongue. He didn’t want to swallow it, but it turned out there was nothing to swallow. The tiny tablet dissolved almost instantly on his tongue, filling his mouth with a sickly sweet taste. Bloody hell. What had she given him?

  “It should only take ten minutes to kick in. Until then . . .” She bent her head and dragged her tongue over his flaccid shaft. “I’ll just amuse myself.”

  Sullivan didn’t feel humiliated often. There was nothing about sex that could make him blush, that could make him feel cheap or used or shamed. But sitting there while a woman he loathed with every fiber of his being licked his unresponsive cock? It was the most degrading experience of his life.

  She didn’t seem to mind his lack of interest. Her tongue toyed and prodded as breathy noises of pleasure left her mouth and heated his groin. He didn’t know how long she kept at it, but eventually his body began to betray him. The pill had taken effect and he was stiffening, an unwanted erection forming beneath Angelina’s greedy mouth.

  “Oh, querido, that’s what I like to see.”

  She sat up and wiped her swollen mouth with a dainty hand, then lifted the bottom of her dress. He bit his lip when he noticed she wasn’t wearing any panties.

  Laughing, Angelina settled on his lap. “Now it’s time for the fun part.”

  Chapter 19

  Present day

  Six months since he’d seen his teammate, and Liam didn’t even get six seconds to bask in the joy of reuniting with Sullivan. One moment Sully was standing in the doorway, the next he was throwing himself on Angelina Mendez. Two hundred-plus pounds pinning her down as strong hands went for her throat.

  “Sully!”

  Liam lunged for the bed, horror flooding his gut when he saw Sully squeezing Angelina’s windpipe. The woman gasped for air, her arms and legs flopping like a fish out of water as the big Australian choked her. She tried batting at Sullivan with her fists, but the man didn’t budge.

  Liam grabbed hold of Sully’s massive shoulders and yanked, but to no avail. Sully was panting like a rabid animal, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip around Angelina’s neck.

  “Sullivan! Stop!”

  Jesus Christ, Liam couldn’t pull him off her. Sullivan was an immovable wall of unchecked rage.

  Hurried footsteps sounded from the door. “What the hell?”

  “Ash!” Liam yelled. “Come here and help me!”

  The younger man flew across the room, wasting no time locking his arms around Sullivan’s chest while Liam frantically tried prying Sully’s hands from Angelina’s throat.

  Sweet Jesus. He wouldn’t budge. Two grown men were attempting to pull Sullivan off the woman, but he’d developed superhuman strength. He was the fuckin’ Hulk, his torso impossible for Ash to move, his hands glued to Angelina, leaving no room for Liam’s hands to slide underneath them.

  The noises she made were inhuman. Choking and growling, growing softer and softer. Blood vessels popped in her eyes, making them bulge and redden.

  “Sullivan, we need her!” Ash shouted, the muscles in his face straining as he wrapped himself around the other man. “Let. Her. Go.”

  Liam’s panic exploded when Angelina’s eyes glazed over. Her arms dropped to her sides, her body twitching as she fought to breathe.

  But Sully couldn’t be stopped. Wild grunts rumbled from deep in his chest, and his fingers dug into the woman’s throat until she finally went silent. Until her eyes became lifeless.

  Only then did Sullivan release her, so abruptly that the brute force Ash had been using on him caused both men to topple backward off the bed.

  Liam struggled to contain his panic as he bent over the motionless woman. Oh Jesus, she couldn’t be dead. She was their insurance policy, damn it. Her very existence was the only thing keeping D and Sofia alive.

  He checked for a pulse and cursed loudly when he found none. Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Get him out of here,” he snapped at Ash.

  He barely registered their footsteps as they left the room. He was too focused on performing CPR on Angelina Mendez. He started with chest compressions, hoping to restore blood circulation, to restart her heart, but when that didn’t garner a response, he switched to rescue breathing. Prayed to every higher power there was. Begged the bitch to breathe, to open her eyes. To not be dead. But he was wasting his breath. Literally and figuratively.

  Angelina was gone. Sullivan had strangled her to death.

  Jesus.

  “Boston!” Ash’s frazzled shout sounded from the other room. “I need you!”

  Liam sucked in a breath and stumbled off the bed. His gaze rested on Angelina’s bloodshot eyes. Dead eyes, glaring up at him in accusation. D had asked him to do one thing—keep the woman alive—and he’d failed. He’d fuckin’ failed.

  His heart pounded as he sprinted to the adjacent bedroom, where he stopped in his tracks. Sullivan was pacing the room in a mad rush, his muscular body lumbering around in circles as Ash stood against the wall, watching warily.

  Liam’s heart ached. His friend was . . . wrecked. Blood and dirt streaked his torn, wrinkled clothes. His blond hair had grown out nearly to his chin, and his beard was thick and unkempt. He looked like he’d been marooned on an island for years.

  But the change was more than physical. His mental and emotional states were . . . alarming. He was mumbling to himself as he stalked around the room, unintelligible nonsense that stopped the moment Liam appeared.

  “Liam.” Sully’s voice rang with misery as he staggered toward him.

  He caught Sully around the waist, steadying the other man before he keeled over. Sully pressed his face on Liam’s shoulder, his broad shoulders quaking.

  “I didn’t mean to kill her. I didn’t mean to. I’m . . . not thinking clearly.”

  Liam’s throat closed up. “I know,” he said gruffly. “It’s okay.”

  He met Ash’s eyes over Sullivan’s head and the two of them exchanged a guarded look. Because it wasn’t okay. Angelina had been their hostage. They’d needed her. D and Sofia needed her.

  Sullivan started panting again. “I know what’ll help, Boston. You can find it anywhere. Send Ash.” His desperate gaze sought out the rookie. “Go find some and I’ll get better. I promise I’ll get better.”

  “Get what?” Liam said slowly, growing sick to his stomach.

  Before he could blink, Sullivan slammed both hands against his chest and pushed him away. “Heroin! Smack. H. Whatever you want to bloody call it! Please. Just go find some!”

  A chill seized Liam’s spine. Heroin?

  Jesus Christ.

  They’d gotten him addicted to heroin?

  Terror clenched in his gut as he stared at his friend. Oh hell. Liam had been DEA. He’d interacted with enough drug dealers and junkies to be able to recognize the signs of withdrawal. The shaking, the shivers, the way Sully was now clutching his side as if his abdomen was being split open like a watermelon.

  Liam’s blood went ice-cold as he remembered one of their last nights in Dublin, when Sullivan had described his life on the streets, how he’d dealt drugs to survive . . . how he’d gotten hooked on the shit he was selling.

  “Please, Liam.” Sully’s eyes had gone glassy, his breathing low and choppy. “One fix. It’ll help with the withdrawal. It’ll make me feel better so we can finish the job.”

  Liam raked his hands through his hair, took a breath, and fixed Sully with a hard look. “I will not, nor will I ever, get you heroin.”

  Anger blazed in his friend’s eyes. “It’ll help.”

  “It won’t help a damn thing. And if you were thinking clearly at the moment, you’d know that.”

  Sullivan moaned again. He rubbed his temples over and over again. Then he staggered forward and clutched the front of Liam’s shirt. “Please do this for me. Please, Liam. Everything hurts. It fucking hurts,
and it’s been hurting for months. I need to feel better.”

  His heart cracked in two. “Sully—”

  “Please. Just one fix and I’ll feel better.” The man was pleading now. “I’ll do whatever you want. Anything you want.”

  Liam yelped when Sully reached for his zipper. “What the fuck are—”

  “I’ll suck your dick,” his friend blurted out, sounding panicked. “How about that? That’s what you wanted in Dublin, right? I’ll suck your dick and you’ll get me a fix and then I’ll feel better.”

  Liam’s gaze shot toward Ash, whose jaw had gaped open.

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sully mumbled as he tried to drag Liam’s zipper down. “But I’ll do it, okay? I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Liam grabbed his friend’s hand before it slid inside his pants. “Sully. Jesus Christ! Stop!”

  He gave the man a hard shove, then regretted it instantly, because Sullivan lost his balance and went tumbling to the floor. Before Liam could lean forward to help him up, Sully shot to his feet, his gray eyes burning with malice as he advanced on him again.

  “What kind of bloody friend are you? I’m in pain. I’m hurting and you . . . you . . .” He started shivering again, his expression conveying pure agony.

  Liam looked at the rookie. “Ash . . .”

  The younger man read his mind. He withdrew his nine mil from his holster and carefully walked over, but Sully was oblivious to Ash’s approach. He was too busy panting and shaking and trying to hit Liam, who easily blocked each weak strike of Sully’s fists.

  Ash came up behind their teammate, reluctance etched into his features.

  Then he raised his Glock and slammed the butt on the back of Sullivan’s head in one sharp motion.

  Their teammate went out like a light.

  Liam could scarcely breathe as he and Ash caught Sully’s unconscious body and lowered it on the twin bed. He stared at the person who mattered most to him in this world, and for one horrifying moment, he truly didn’t recognize him. He’d just seen Sullivan choke the life out of a woman, but as alarming as that’d been, it hadn’t evoked the same level of terror he was feeling now.

  “The guys are showing up in a couple hours,” Ash said quietly. “One of them can take Sully back to the compound.”

  Liam nodded.

  “Morgan will want to send him somewhere.” Ash shifted his feet, awkward. “Rehab, I guess.”

  Liam gave another nod. Then he cleared his throat. “Listen . . . that stuff he said . . . about Dublin . . .”

  The rookie’s cheeks took on a reddish hue, but despite his visible discomfort, his tone remained businesslike. “He wasn’t thinking clearly,” was all Ash said.

  Liam’s gaze strayed to his unconscious best friend. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “He wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  • • •

  Everyone leaves me, Derek.

  D couldn’t stop thinking about Sofia’s dejected confession. It ran in his head on a loop, making him feel things he hadn’t expected to feel. Sorrow, first and foremost. He actually felt sad that everyone Sofia had ever cared about had abandoned her. He felt . . . sympathy. Not pity or indifference, which was what other people’s sob stories usually evoked, but genuine sympathy.

  And then there was fierce determination, incredibly odd in its urgency. Saving her had already been a priority for him, but now it was a necessity. He refused to let Mendez kill her. He fucking refused to let that happen.

  She’d been asleep in his lap for hours, her soft breathing tickling his thigh through his pants. D had been fighting the strangest urge to take her hair out of its braid and stroke those silky, dark strands. He’d seen Kane do that to Abby before, absently stroke her hair when they were nestled together on the couch, or hell, even during a briefing. The act had always brought a serene look to Kane’s face.

  D wondered if tangling his fingers through a woman’s hair would achieve the same result in him. If it would soothe him, ground him.

  He didn’t dare find out, though. He was afraid it might cause him to grow more attached to her. He was surprised by how attached he’d already become.

  He liked Sofia a helluva lot. He respected her. He enjoyed her company. He . . . desired her. She’d been right earlier—she was more than a warm place to stick his dick, more than a simple outlet for release. The way he was starting to feel about her wasn’t simple at all. It was complicated as fuck, and he didn’t like it.

  “D?” She stirred in his lap, her sleepy gaze finding his as she lifted her head. Within seconds, that gaze became alert. She shot into an upright position. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”

  “Because you were tired,” he said gruffly.

  She rubbed her eyes, then glanced at the window. When she realized the sun had gone down, her features were no longer relaxed, but taut with worry. “It’s evening? Why hasn’t Mendez come back yet? How long is he going to leave us in here without food or water?”

  “Not long. He’ll show up soon.”

  “How do you know that?” Her mouth quivered. “What if he doesn’t come back at all? What if he lets us starve to death?”

  “He won’t.”

  Mendez would never dream of letting his old enemy die of natural causes when his trusty workshop could do the trick. D was already anticipating it. Being strapped to that metal table while Mendez and his goons treated his body like a game of Operation. It was an inevitability.

  “How can you be so certain—” She stopped talking when a creak sounded from the door.

  D stifled a sigh. Awesome. Let the games begin.

  One of the guards entered first. Lean and muscular, with light brown skin and a harsh mouth that tightened at the sight of the prisoners.

  Mendez was next, decked out in white pants and a thin V-neck sweater, a tuft of dark hair peeking out of the V.

  “I hope you’ve been enjoying your visit,” Mendez said. “I had to take a short trip to the mainland and attend to some business, but I’ve really been looking forward to this.” His gaze flicked from Sofia to D. “So, which one of you would like to visit the workshop first?”

  “Me,” D announced.

  Sofia looked over, startled.

  Mendez was equally surprised. “So eager to volunteer. Interesting.”

  “Don’t come in your pants just yet,” D cracked. “I want something in return.”

  He rose to his full height and approached the men. The guard’s hand immediately snapped up, aiming a .45 Beretta at D’s chest.

  “Relax,” D said in a mocking voice. “I’m only interested in making a deal.”

  “A deal?” Mendez chuckled. “You’re not in any position to bargain with me, Jason. But all right, I’ll hear you out.”

  He nodded in Sofia’s direction. She’d stood up too, but stuck close to the wall. “You let Esmé go, and in exchange you’ll get your daughter back.” D locked eyes with the other man. “And you’ll get me.”

  Sofia’s breath hitched.

  “You can do whatever you want to me,” he added with a shrug. “Whatever form of revenge you’ve got in mind, go nuts. I’ll accept my punishment without giving you any trouble.”

  Mendez looked intrigued.

  “Just put Esmé on a chopper first. My colleague will collect her, and when I receive word that she’s safe, I’ll order my man to release your daughter. And once Angie is back in her father’s loving bosom”—D couldn’t stop the sardonic jab—“you can concentrate on what matters most to you—killing me.”

  Mendez slanted his head, a pensive gleam in his eyes.

  “What do you say?” D coaxed. “Me and your daughter . . . and all you have to do is release my colleague here.” He gestured to Sofia again. “She’s got nothing to do with this, Raoul. I contracted her for this exchange three days ago. She wasn’t involved in the op that killed Gael.”

  The older man was quiet for so long that it worried D. When he finally responded, it was with low, astonished laugh
ter that worried him even more.

  “She means something to you.” Mendez shook his head in amazement. “I didn’t realize you were capable of loving someone other than yourself, Jason.”

  D bristled. “She means nothing to me. Not outside a professional context anyway. But she’s innocent in all this. Let her go, Raoul. You don’t need her.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” Mendez pursed his lips as he studied Sofia. “She’s too old to ship off to my clients. I suppose I could give her to the guards as a gift, but they prefer younger pussy, too.”

  D risked a glance at Sofia, and his stomach clenched when he noticed how green she looked. Fuck. He hoped she didn’t throw up again. She’d confessed before falling asleep that her nausea was worse in the evenings.

  “No, it’s obvious what needs to be done.” A smile stretched Mendez’s mouth. “Paulo?”

  The guard at his side shifted the trajectory of his weapon.

  From D to Sofia.

  D spoke up sharply. “Raoul—”

  “Shut up,” the man hissed. “You’re done talking, Jason. You want a deal? Well, here’s the deal. I’m going to blow this bitch’s head off right in front of you. Because I want to, and because I can. And after her brains are spattered at your feet, you’re going to call your man and order him to release my daughter. Then, once Angie is ‘back in her father’s loving bosom,’ I’ll give her the honor of having the first go at you in the workshop. And we both know she’ll enjoy it, don’t we?”

  Uncharacteristic panic scurried up D’s spine. The hard glint in Mendez’s eyes revealed there would be no bargaining with the man. He wouldn’t let Sofia go.

  “Come here,” Mendez snapped at Sofia.

  She stayed frozen in place, her distraught gaze seeking D out.

  “Don’t look at him, bitch. He can’t help you.” Mendez crooked his finger at her. “Now get the fuck over here.”

  Her jaw set. She still didn’t move.

  Annoyance flashed across Mendez’s face, but then he chuckled. “Fine. You know what? Stay right there.” He held up his hands and formed a square, as if he were framing a shot for a movie. “The gray stone will make a nice backdrop for your blood and brains. I’ll be sure to take a picture of it afterward.” His tone sharpened. “Paulo.”