Dark Hunter (A Zeta Cartel Novel Book 4)

by AJ Adams

  At that the Zetas were rolling their eyes.

  “Morgan,” Rip sighed. “They’re here because I’m the target.”

  “Erm, what?” And suddenly I saw that the map showed the house and the river.

  “They’re here to help me,” Rip repeated.

  “Oh.” For a moment I felt like a complete idiot. “But what happens after?”

  “Nothing,” Rip said.

  “Don’t nothing me! I won’t let you pay for my mistakes.”

  “Don’t be a damn fool,” Rip snapped. “The deal’s fine as it is.”

  “But—”

  “No, and that’s final,” Rip said. “Shut up, Morgan.”

  “But—”

  “Go eat your breakfast.”

  “No!” Rip simply picked me up and toted me outside. “Put me down!”

  I was hanging over his back, watching the grass, the river, and the pool bounce up and down. It was ridiculous. I’m no lightweight, and yet Rip carted me about as if I were a size zero model.

  He dumped me in a lounger by the pool. “Morgan, thanks for the assist but—”

  And that’s when the nightmare came out of the reeds. He was dressed in a wet-suit painted with camo stripes, dripping river water everywhere, with his eyes shrouded in goggles. The only dry thing was the gun. It was pointing directly at us.

  It seemed unbelievable. I was staring dumbstruck when Rip was moving, dragging me up and along with him as he rolled and used the lounger for cover.

  “Down, Morgan.” His hand was on my neck and his body covering mine, as there was a phtew-phtew next to my ear. “In the pool.”

  I had a bare moment to realise what he was up to and then I was flipping into the blue water. I went in, under, and then I was splashing about, gasping and coughing.

  “Skurwysyn!” The camo creep was rolling over the ground, trying to get a line on Rip. “I’ll kill you!”

  God knows how, but I was out of that pool in a heartbeat. Dripping from every stitch, I got there just as Rip was taking control. He simply launched himself at his attacker, pushing the gun out of the way as he came crashing down on the man’s chest. I swear I heard ribs break.

  The camo man squealed. “Get off me! Fucker!”

  Rip punched the man in the throat, plucked the gun out of his hands, and then he was sticking the barrel in his face. Incredibly, he was laughing, “You lost, and now you pay!”

  The mocking laugh had a wild edge to it, and there was an insane light in Rip’s eyes. My heart was banging against my ribs. My mind flew back to that first day when he’d pulled me out of the pool. I’d thought him vicious then, but this was a world away from cartel dangerous. Rip looked like a fiend, and I was frozen in my terror.

  The wannabe assassin was crying, tears running down his face as he gasped, “You killed my father!” Now his headgear was off, I could see the nightmare was just a kid of seventeen or so.

  “And your father killed my family.” Rip was complete ice. “Tit for tat.”

  The silence lasted a million years. Then Rip was holding the gun by the kid’s head. “Want to play a game?”

  The gun went off with a rip-roaring bang. The kid and I screamed in unison.

  “Oops!” Rip was chortling. “Missed!”

  The bullet had gone into the ground but his victim was writhing in silent terror. I knew exactly why: Rip was petrifying.

  “Want to pick a starting spot? An ear, or maybe a hand?” It was a whisper but the words carried to the ends of the earth. Rip was smiling, “We’ll have a blow by blow discussion. Think you’ll last until tomorrow?”

  The kid wasn’t even breathing. The camo stripes were still, and his eyes were wider than fear itself. The beast looking down on him paralysed him.

  “I’ll make you scream,” Rip whispered.

  He was going to kill the boy. My body took over and I was up and moving in, one hand on his shoulder, and one trying to get the hand that held the gun. “No, Rip! No!”

  The hand was like steel, and the monster gazed back at me: hard, cold and alien. “He has to pay. It’s the rules.”

  My gut was clenching, and I wanted to throw up. Sense told me to run and to keep running. I was in the presence of evil. Except this was Rip. The man who’d saved my life. The one who had wrapped himself around me and comforted me when I had wanted to die.

  I had to reach past the fiend and find the man buried underneath. “Don’t you see?” I asked him softly. “His father killed yours, so you killed his. Now his son is here to kill you. Where does it end?”

  The ice-cold eyes blinked. There was no emotion in them. “It will end when I kill him.”

  “No, it won’t. It’s an everlasting cycle.” I was willing him to listen, to chase away the devil that possessed him. “We’ve got to stop killing.”

  There was a whisper of sound behind me. The Zetas were there, guns at the ready.

  Rip didn’t move, but I couldn’t help but shiver. At that, the fury that had blasted out retreated. For a moment, there was a ghost of human emotion in his voice. “Morgan, he came here to find me. He crossed an ocean, for God’s sake. I didn’t start it.”

  “But you have the power to finish it.”

  The eyes were hard. “I will.”

  “No! Not like that!” I was seeing his finger whiten on the trigger. “Listen to me. This is how I fucked up! I couldn’t walk away, and it almost killed me! Learn from my mistake, Rip. Don’t do this!”

  There was an eon of silence as Rip thought. The Zetas said nothing, simply watching and waiting.

  Then, as if from a million miles away, Rip was talking. “He took it all. Because of Sokolov I lost them all. Mum, my sister Ginny, Dad, and even the baby. All dead.”

  The sadness drove through me. “Oh, Rip. Oh, no!”

  “It’s not true,” the kid gasped.

  “Yes, it is.” Rip replied. “We had a Picasso. Your father decided he wanted it. His men didn’t just take the painting, they killed everyone in the house.”

  “No! He didn’t!”

  “Yes, he did,” Kyle growled. “Your father boasted about it publicly.”

  Camo kid was white with horror. “You killed them all. My father. My uncles. My cousins.”

  “Every fucking last one of them,” Rip agreed.

  “You burnt my father alive! My uncles were tortured!”

  “Blood for blood, scream for scream.”

  I could barely breathe. The hate and despair that came from him were choking me.

  “I let you live,” Rip whispered. “And your mother, and your sister. Only the guilty paid.”

  This is what he’d talked about. These were Rip’s game rules.

  “Want to play?”

  I wasn’t sure if I’d said it or he. The words floated into the air.

  The emotions were so dark that it was hard to think. But I hung on to what mattered. I stroked his face, willing him to listen to me. “Rip, you have a choice. You can end it.”

  He was sombre. “I know.” Then he turned to Chumillo, “Take Morgan inside, please, and see she stays there.” He looked back down at the frightened kid. “I’m going to settle this.”

  Rip had made up his mind, but I couldn’t tell whether the monster had won or the man.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Rip

  He was staring up at me, tears running down his face as he sobbed for the father, uncles, and cousins I’d killed. He was just a kid. Seventeen or eighteen. The same age I’d been when I’d lost my family and gone after his to exact my revenge.

  He was full of rage and intent on my death. I knew what had to be done. “Morgan. Is she in the house?”

  Kyle’s low rumble was instant. “Yeah. The door is shut, and Chumillo is with her.”

  “Good. I don’t want her to see this.”

  I tossed the gun away, and then I strangled the kid. It wasn’t difficult. I’d had lots of practice over the years. I put my thumbs on the side of his neck, and he was dying before he’d really unders
tood what was happening.

  There was no rush of power, no sense of control. It was simply a job. He struggled, but I had him pinned so it didn’t matter. He was fading fast. “Bye-bye,” I said to him. And then, just before he crossed into the next world, I released him.

  I stood up and watched him roll about on the grass, gasping for air and retching from pure fear. My own emotions confused me. Instead of being elated or even feeling cheated from not being able to finish my game, I was numb.

  The Zetas, though, were totally on point.

  “Joder, Rip, I really thought you were going to take him out,” Rafa sighed.

  The kid was throwing up. My lesson had been effective. “I needed him to understand what will happen if he comes back.”

  Kyle was shaking his head. “You sure know how to send a message.”

  From the man who’d killed by crucifixion, that was probably meant as a compliment.

  We stood about, watching the teen wannabe assassin in his camo-painted wet suit arch and retch. It had been a clever idea to swim across the river rather than risk alerting us by crossing the border. If it had been just a little different, he might have been me.

  “Kid.” I nudged him with my foot. “I’m letting you live, you hear? Go home.”

  He was moaning, but I was taking it as agreement.

  “If you or any of your family come back, I’ll take you all out. Your mother and sisters included.”

  He moaned some more. His eyes were bloodshot, and his throat was blackening rapidly with bruises. He’d have dreams about dying for a long time to come. Kid Camo would never come back. I was safe. Well, from the Sokolovs.

  “We’ll kick him over the border,” Kyle rumbled.

  He, Rafa, and Chumillo vanished, leaving me with a very pugnacious Morgan.

  “You almost killed him!”

  She was hiding it, but I saw her trembling. I wanted to fold her into my arms, but I didn’t dare. Morgan had seen my true self.

  Pain lanced through me. For a moment I was back in time and space. The house was a pile of ashes. Everyone I’d loved was in those ruins. They were all gone. I was alone in an ocean of aching loneliness and helpless despair.

  I shook myself, pushing myself back into the present and speaking through the pain that consumed me. “I had to make sure he’d not come back.”

  Her eyes were dark. “Rip, for God’s sake.” The revulsion in her voice was clear.

  I couldn’t help myself, I was ripping apart. She was rejecting me. Long forgotten emotions swamped me. Rage, loss, and the horror of helplessness flooded through me.

  Time flashed again, and I was right back in that barn, looking at Greasy as he burned. “Mercy! For God’s sake! Have mercy!”

  The volcanic hate that had possessed me then came rushing back. I shook away the vision, snarling at Morgan, “Now you know what I am.”

  Gazing at her wide, worried eyes, I knew I’d been insane to welcome the taste of passion. It had lured me, but the memories it had brought back had also aroused the old pain. I was desperate to have the numbness return.

  “You’re insane,” Morgan whispered.

  She wanted to run from me, I could see it in her eyes. And if she did, I’d have to kill her. It crucified me just to think about it. I knew I had to get out of there. She’d given me a glimpse of paradise, and now it was being torn away from me. The rejection and hurt were too much.

  “What did you expect?” The words ripped from me. I wanted to hurt her as much as she was hurting me. “You made your bed, Morgan. Now you have to fucking lie in it.”

  Turning away from her, I left. I was in such a rush that I ended up sitting in the car at the end of the road wondering where to go. On impulse, I picked up the phone. “Arturo? I have the twitches.”

  “And luckily, I have a job for you,” he replied promptly.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Arturo’s house was a hotbed of activity. People were swarming around a breakfast buffet, talking business as they ate. Solitaire had her own court, a collection of women, half of whom looked as if they should be decorating a pole and the other half as if they were austerity preachers. She was definitely a woman of parts.

  “Rip.” Arturo stood up to greet me. “The man who saved my life!” It was a magnificent bit of play-acting. Everyone looked, gasped, and then it seemed entirely natural when Arturo took me inside for a one-on-one. “Come and tell me how you like Mexico.”

  Once in his office, still smelling of paint, he was all business. “Everything okay?” Arturo asked. “I hear you had an exciting morning.”

  “It’s fine.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Part of me was having second thoughts about not killing the kid; it’s safer to dispose of threats permanently. I was regretting Morgan too. I’d been wrong to think she’d be useful. Having her around was killing me. But at the same time, I couldn’t bear to have her leave. My gut was ripping into pieces with the agony of unbearable choices and realities.

  For a moment I had a wild idea. I’d give up killing and beg Morgan to give me a chance. Maybe we could build a quiet life together. One where we’d live in simple solitude.

  “Rip, I’m sorry but I have to give you a heads-up.” Arturo was looking uncomfortable. “The Rossi Don met with the head of the Balchuna family last week. They got talking and they figured out that Herman Bauer and Sigi Kowalski were the same person.”

  Shit! My Italian and Lithuanian connections should never have met!

  “It’s the damn EU,” Arturo sighed. “Everyone’s fucking working borderless these days.”

  “What do they know?”

  “They’re not onto your identity yet, but it won’t be long,” Arturo said. “Rip, you really are a marvel. You have a unique approach. It’s like a fingerprint.”

  Great. Professionalism was a signature in itself.

  “We reckon you clocked one hundred and eighteen kills, and we know we’ve probably missed a few.”

  “I never counted.”

  “You should have,” Arturo warned me. “You can’t wipe out that many players and not get noticed.”

  I’d known it, and I hadn’t really cared.

  Arturo was bleak. “With the Rossi and the Balchunas putting it together that Herman Bauer and Sigi Kowalski are the same person, we reckon they may be able to track you.”

  “I don’t think they’ll bother. The last time we tangled, they were hurt. Badly.”

  “You may be right,” Arturo conceded. But there was more bad news. “We’re hearing the Nikolayev family are sniffing about. And they do business with the Balchunas.”

  The Kiev Bratva were back on my track. “After I took out Nikolayev senior, they had a go at catching me.” I’d killed the man who’d come for me in Budapest and the one in Stalingrad, but the buggers were clearly still pissed off. And unlike the others, they were extremely stubborn.

  “They may not make the connection,” Arturo assured me. “But if they do, we’ll protect you.”

  As the Kiev Bratva or brotherhood, numbered in the hundreds, I’d need the Zetas watching my back. My crazy dream of retiring and begging Morgan to come with me withered and died.

  Arturo mistook my despair for concern over my hide. “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “We’re on it, Rip.” He was smiling at me. “When I said I needed a weapon, I had high hopes. But I have to say, you have exceeded my wildest dreams.”

  It was a death knell. A man like him would never let someone like me walk. I was too valuable. “I’m so glad.”

  Arturo burst out laughing. “Ohmigod, that stiff upper lip! You really slay me!” But then he was looking serious again. “Listen, my protection extends to Morgan too, okay? Some of the others will kick when they find out who she is, but I give you my word that our deal stands. I’ll protect her with everything I have. If that scum from Kiev try it on, I’ll slaughter them.”

  At that my heart went cold. I’d been alone for so long that I’d not even considered the big picture. The Bratva a
re vicious, famous for their wholesale slaughter that included women and children, family as well as bystanders. If they made the connection and then found out that Morgan was living with the man who took out their chief… I didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Ohmigod, they’ll aim at Morgan!” Just the idea gave me the sweats. I was helpless, rooted in the knowledge that you can’t keep your loved ones safe. In my mind, I was seeing my home again, burnt to cinders, and everyone I loved inside.

  “Rip, if anyone can keep her safe, it’s you and me,” Arturo said firmly.

  I stared at him, my mind in turmoil. But he was right. “I need extra security,” I said. “CCTV and armed guards, day and night.”

  “I’ll get on it right away,” Arturo promised me. “Cameras, dog patrol, the lot. A mouse won’t be able to get in, okay?”

  The emotions sloshing through me were too painful to endure. Hope, fear, gratitude, and terror were running amok, suffocating me. My heart wanted to rush back home and protect her myself. But my head reminded me of her eyes filled with horror. She’d be terrified and if she ran… I didn’t want to go there, either.

  Then sense kicked in. Morgan wouldn’t leave the house, she was too afraid of the Gulf and Los Osos tracking her down. With her at home and the Zetas erecting a wall around her, she’d be secure.

  “You said you had the twitches,” Arturo said softly.

  “Yes.” Gratefully, I focused on an escape. With Morgan protected, work would get me back to safe familiarity. “You said you have a job?”

  Arturo got straight down to it. “Take out the three in Halford first.”

  “The paedo pimps? With pleasure.”

  “Use this gun for those hits.” He handed me a .45. “But change your look between hits.”

  He was up to some clever mischief again. “You want them to connect the dots afterwards?”

  “Exactly,” Arturo grinned. “That gun is registered to a Sinaloa sicario.”

  And I was taking out Gulf targets. “Sweet.”

  Arturo handed me a thumb drive. “Here are two extra files. Can you recreate Navarro’s death?”