by Lea Griffith
She was fucking glorious. Even in the midst of unimaginable pain, she wrenched his heart from his chest with her beauty.
His hands fisted at his side. He wouldn’t take this anger away from her. She needed it right now. “Who was that girl, Bullet?” he asked softly.
A single tear tracked down her cheek. “It was me.”
He nodded and reached slowly to whisk that tear away. “It was you. It was Gretchen. And now Gretchen is Bullet and Remi, and whoever else Gretchen needs to be. But you’re different now. Do you know how?” he asked gently.
“I am different. I’m no longer a child. I am a grown woman, an assassin. There is nothing left of the little girl who watched her family cut down in a hail of bullets. She is long gone.” She turned away from him, and he had to struggle to hear her next words. “Do not do this thing, Mr. Beckett.”
He warred within himself. Save her, his heart whispered. She is lost to you, screamed his mind. “I cannot help but do this, Bullet.” He sighed deeply, and she glanced at him over her shoulder.
The blooded velvet of her hair hid her face. Rand moved closer to her and pushed it back. She hissed in a breath and nearly stepped away, but their gazes met and she stopped.
“You are different because you survived. You did what you had to do to live, what you had to do to make it to me,” he said, and she seemed to crumple into herself at his words.
Her shoulders drooped, and she looked away from him again. He took another step and brought his body flush with hers. He needed the contact.
Ken sighed and moved to the other side of the cabin. Rand glanced at the other men, and each lowered their gaze and sought to do something else.
“I didn’t want to.”
Rand had to lower his head to her to catch her words.
“What?”
She took a shuddering breath. “Come to you. But your eyes, Mr. Beckett, they called to me. I told you I yearned for you from the moment I saw your picture. And while that is truth, it is only a partial one.”
“Then, what is all of it, Gretchen?” Her hands fisted together, and her body trembled. He felt every tremor, absorbed them into his own, and continued to push her. “What is the whole truth?”
“I looked at you, and beyond the yearning, you made me feel.” She straightened, and it brought them into even closer contact. He wanted to hiss, unable to control his body’s response to her. She turned and took a step back, raised her head, and in the gesture was a strength he would probably never be able to comprehend. “For me, feeling is in direct opposition to everything I’ve been taught. Above that, it negates everything I am. I kill. I take life, and yet all I want to do when I look at you is—”
“Tell me, Gretchen,” he urged, and then winced at the gravelly edge of his voice.
“I cannot, Mr. Beckett. To do so gives you a certain power over me, and while a part of me would not mind that, my soul rebels. I will not be broken. I cannot be weak.”
Silence descended in the cabin. The others had heard her, but it was Rand who was left crying inside. Joseph had taken a precious child and broken her. While the woman who had formed in her place was stronger than anyone he’d ever known, she was still that wrecked child on the inside. Gretchen hid behind Bullet’s façade.
Rage spiked his heart rate. No one should ever have to struggle this mightily to exist. Torn between two realities, she was infinitely fragile, and in that moment, Rand wanted nothing more than to protect her forever.
But he knew he couldn’t. She was a killer, and he abhorred that part of her even as he recognized that it was who she was, not all, but a piece that would fracture her entire world should she lose it. She had her demons, and while he would slay any of her enemies if she but asked, in order for Gretchen to live, Bullet had to kill the one who’d created her.
He took a deep breath, restrained the urge to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom on the plane, and stepped away. “You were never weak, Bullet.”
She lifted her shoulders and sighed. “I’ve never been allowed to be.”
She shifted sideways and sat back down in the seat she’d vacated moments ago. Rand, in turn, took the one across from her, and they each resumed the avoidance of one another. He going over and over plans, she resting somewhere inside herself.
They had twelve more hours of flying before they reached their destination. Heaven help them all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Andes Mountain
Arequipa, Peru
“You can step out now, girl. I can feel your eyes borin’ into my skull.” Grant’s deep voice rang out in the black of the night.
Remi glanced back at Rand. He nodded, and she moved into the circle of light thrown by Grant’s campfire.
“Old man, it’s been a long time,” she murmured, one hand at her side, ready.
He stood and tipped his scruffy Stetson back, the look on his beautiful face rueful. “Well now, that’s because you never call and you never write. And the only time I ever see your scrawny, flea-bit ass is when you want something.”
“Pot meet kettle,” she responded automatically.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Touche, pichouette,” he said with a smile.
That smile had gotten him into so much shit in the past, it was a wonder he was still alive. The man was gorgeous, no two ways around it. He was tall, maybe taller than Rand, and corded with sinewy muscle. His blond hair and blue eyes screamed “valley boy,” but his persona, and the cowboy hat, told a different story altogether.
Remi winced. “You continue to bastardize my native language, and I may have to shoot your ass.” She walked closer to him, watching his movements closely.
He opened his arms and said, “You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. Now what the hell you waiting for? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my favorite girl.” The tone of his voice was discordant in the still air.
She pulled out her Walther between one breath and the next, had it against Grant’s forehead soon after. “How close?”
“Been feeling the bead of a scope for about six or seven hours now. I’m itchy, Bullet, and you’re in the open.”
“Bullet?” Rand’s voice was pitched low enough that she heard it, but it didn’t carry very far.
“Who’s out there, Grant?” Remi bit out the question and pressed harder against his forehead.
“Get that goddamn gun outta my face right fucking now, Bullet, or I’ll gut you quicker than you can draw breath.” He made sure his voice carried.
Remi felt the tip of Grant’s knife in her belly, knew he’d stay true to form.
“Who’s out there?”
Grant rolled his eyes. “If I fucking knew, I’d have their head on the end of my knife, little girl. Now move the fucking gun.”
“Position?”
“Best guess, two thousand yards to your three o’clock,” he answered slowly.
She lowered the weapon and stepped back out of the range of his campfire’s light. “You should probably hide for a little while. I don’t know who that is or why they didn’t just fillet my brain with a bullet, but it can’t be good.”
“What the fuck’s going on, Bullet?” Rand stepped forward, face darkened by cammo paint.
“We have company,” Remi responded, keeping her voice low. “In the trees.”
“Fan out,” Rand said. Shadows coalesced, darker points of black in the ebony of the surrounding terrain as his men did as ordered. Remi was impressed. She didn’t even hear the scuff of a boot over the soil.
“You won’t find her,” Grant said smugly, but for her ears only.
Remi’s gaze shot to him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s one of his, but I just—”
A shot rang out, the bullet whizzing to kick up dirt beside Remi. She aimed where the shot came from, fired, and watched in horror as the flash of another round leaving a muzzle lit up her vision.
Rand pulled her down, and she let him. Within moments they’d r
olled to relative safety behind a large tree.
“They’ll find him. Just hang on,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “No, they won’t, and it isn’t a ‘he,’ it’s a ‘she’.”
Rand’s mouth fell open for a split second. “How the fuck . . . goddamn, Bullet, another one?”
She didn’t respond, just took a second to gain perspective as she absorbed the sounds of the landscape around her. There it was—the rustle of clothing against bark, the slide of skin over leaves. Much closer than Grant had suspected. Remi went cold. Intentional on his part?
Probably.
She peered around the tree, not expecting another shot as the sniper had lost advantage. Grant was inching toward the fire. She got up. The killer in the trees was long gone. Outnumbered and found out, he, or she, wouldn’t hang around for a suicide mission. She wasn’t Joseph’s. No way.
She walked over to Grant, who reached for a knapsack and got to his haunches. He opened the knapsack and threw a piece of paper to her. “Here. That’s all I’ve got. Take it and run, but if you ever get caught with that, I’ll deny I know you. In fact, I may stick you for getting caught in the first place.”
Remi ignored the paper, took another step, and stood over him now, gun at her side. “Who was it?”
“I don’t—”
She waved the gun. “Don’t you fucking give me that shit. Who is she?”
Grant struck out then, fisting his hand and going for her knee. She sidestepped and spun, kicking out with her foot and catching him in the jaw. She stunned him, but this wasn’t Grant’s first rodeo. In seconds, he was on his feet, towering over her, striking out with a short jab to her midsection, but she turned with the punch, taking it, but negating its impact. She made a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn, swinging her arm in an upward arc, and back-fisted him across the jaw. The blow knocked him off his feet.
Remi pulled back, waiting on Grant to rise to his feet.
He got up, and his gaze focused somewhere over her right shoulder. Rand. Grant glanced at her and raised a brow, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I was never real happy I taught you that move,” he said ruefully.
“I, on the other hand, have never been happier.” She cocked her head and raised her arms to her side. “Another round?”
Grant shook his head. “Nah, I think your man back there’s more inclined to shoot me where I stand.”
She ignored his taunt. “Who was she?”
Grant shook his head again. Confusion rifled through Remi, and she straightened. As far as she could throw him, she’d told Rand.
“That’s a need to know, Remi. And right now, you just don’t need to know that. Now get on. I don’t know why she’s staking me out, but it can’t be good. Your big surprise may be gone.”
“If I see you there, I’ll shoot to kill, old man,” she said softly.
“Well now, Remi, you’ll forgive me if I just don’t believe you.” He smiled, and it eased her for some strange reason. He grunted. “And quit calling me ‘old man.’”
Remi nodded. Grant turned and left. She leaned down, picked up the paper he’d thrown her way, and stuffed it in her pocket.
From the edge of the small clearing, Rand’s men appeared. The man himself walked to her side.
“There was nobody to be found,” he said, a question in his tone.
Remi took a deep breath. “There was never going to be. It was a warning to me, plain and simple. There’s yet another player on this stage.”
“The men found Jeeps about a quarter mile from here. Ours?”
She nodded again. “Switching transpo is a must. We should leave now. It’ll take us another four hours of difficult driving to make it to the base you’ve arranged.”
“Let’s move, then.”
“Mr. Beckett, one more thing?” He turned, frustration drawing his eyebrows down. His indigo eyes flashed in the light thrown by the fire. She clenched her hands into fists. “If you pray, you should do so now.”
His face went hard, closed. “Why’s that?”
“You should pray that he has no knowledge of what we’re doing here. Because if he does, we’ll be walking right into an ambush.”
Rand shrugged. “It is never an ambush if you know what could be waiting. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“I hope your cockiness isn’t overwhelmed. Let’s ride.”
The sky had gone the colors of dawn as they pulled into Yanahuara. On the other side of the Chili River, it was a quiet district dominated by churches. Most of the buildings were made out of sillar, a white volcanic rock that was beautiful in the early morning light as it reflected back the pinks and oranges of the burgeoning morning. Rand took it all in, eyes searching for any hidden threats as they pulled into the church where he’d secured safety for them.
Though long ago abandoned, several priests still used this particular church for their ministry. Rand had requested a favor of one in particular. A return for a favor he’d done the priest long ago when the man had been studying in Rome. How fortuitous that the man had decided to settle himself in Peru.
Father Benedict met them as they pulled into the small courtyard. Ken and Adam had arrived over an hour ago, traveling much lighter and faster than Rand and the other men. Their reasoning was two-fold. One, they would ascertain the safety of the church, and two, they would serve as lookouts and snipers for any trouble that followed the others.
No shots rang out as Rand pulled into the courtyard, and the back of his neck relaxed.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Remi murmured from her seat beside him.
He glanced at her, noticing how much colder she seemed. How quickly he’d grown used to her semi-closed mien. As soon as they’d stepped foot on Peruvian soil, her face had tightened and her eyes had gone flat. The impulse to rub his chest was barely containable. Instead, he brought the Jeep to a halt and got out.
“Do what?” he asked, wishing he could call the question back immediately.
“Relax. Do you not feel the bead of the scope?”
“I do. But it’s Ken and Adam—”
“No, it’s not your men,” she responded.
“Who is it?”
She didn’t answer. Rand took a deep breath as the priest walked up and shook his hand.
“Please come into the sanctuary proper. I would show you this old church of ours and get you settled,” Father Benedict encouraged.
Remi shook her head. “I must scout.”
Rand glanced at her, refusal on the tip of his tongue. If she were going to flee to Joseph, there would be nothing he could do at this point. Trust your gut, Beckett. He didn’t speak just watched as she moved to the shadows. Her ability to become the shadows was uncanny. It brought home just what she was.
He blinked and she was gone.
“She is a ghost,” Father Benedict murmured.
Rand grunted. “You could be right.” Most times she did seem more dead than alive. But when she burned with life, it was a beautiful thing. His body tightened as it always did when he thought about or gazed at her, and with great effort, he pushed those thoughts away.
The priest sighed. “Perhaps, son, you should not have come on this errand.”
“When revenge calls, Father, it is best to answer it quickly.” His gaze shifted from the priest to the enormous room Trident Corp had been granted as a base. It may have once served as a sanctuary, but was now stripped of pews and all accoutrements of worship. The dark wooden floors were dusty, and the walls were yellowed with age. It was barren, and Rand thought that appropriate. “We won’t interrupt your studies or mission work, right Father? Everything must continue to operate as it has been, or people will notice.”
Father Benedict sighed again, and it made Rand smile. “No, you are not interrupting anything. God’s work can never be interrupted. Now come, I will show you all that you need to know about my humble chapel and get you and your men settled.” He turned away, and then back almost
immediately. “The young lady will return, yes?”
Rand searched the old man’s face for any signs of subterfuge and found only rheumy blue eyes alive with peace. He shrugged, and the priest seemed content with that response. Father Benedict gestured for Rand to follow him, and he obeyed.
An hour later, Rand had seen everything he needed to. Exits were catalogued and the men were setting up shop in the larger former sanctuary. The middle most room of the church, it would afford some protection. He was going over plans for the next day when a shout from the front of the church sounded.
“Padre! Padre!”
A small boy, no more than six or seven, skidded to a halt at the door of the church, his face alive with fear. Worry trickled down Rand’s neck, slithered down his spine, and pooled at its base.
“Ven!”
Father Benedict threw a worried look at Rand as the young boy mumbled to him, and that look forced his worry into fear. Unlike Bullet, Rand relied on fear to tell him when sugar was going to shit. Something bad was headed their way.
“He says the bad man is coming,” Father Benedict said quickly. “He says the angel told him to find you and tell you to get out now!”
Rand cocked his head. “The angel?”
Father Benedict questioned the boy. “He says the beautiful lady with the red hair.” The priest shrugged and gestured for the boy to leave out the back of the chapel. The boy’s tiny legs carried him quickly that way.
Rand had no response. She was warning him. Where the fuck was she?
A shot exploded near the door, and Rand put his communication unit in place. “Ken?” he said, and received only silence.
The door was forced open, and Rand shoved the priest behind him as two men entered the dwelling. The smaller, blond man had the child in his grip and the other, taller man with black eyes had Ken.
