Complicate

by Pam Godwin

  “You did it,” he whispered, setting aside the laptop.

  “We did it.”

  Now they just needed PaulVer to do the rest.

  Cole inched forward and gripped her neck, bringing their mouths together. He kissed her softly, adoringly, humming his happiness. She returned the kiss, sharing in his joy, her soul swelling and reaching for his.

  “It’s almost over.” He smiled against her mouth.

  “Doesn’t feel real.”

  The trailing sound of sirens faded. Then disappeared completely. They’d lost the police, but Tiago didn’t slow. He flew down the sleepy Romanian streets, keeping pace with their friends in the other SUV.

  “He’s waking,” Kate whispered, taping up the bandage.

  Cole leaned back, letting Lydia bend toward the backseat.

  “Hey, there,” she said softly. “Remember me?”

  A heavy rasp pushed past PaulVer’s teeth, his thick black eyebrows twitching as he dragged open his eyes.

  His dark brown gaze struggled to focus, his eyelashes blinking rapidly, until finally, he centered his sight on her.

  “You’re my angel,” he said dazedly. “My beautiful, perfect angel. Do you like the egg?”

  “I love it. Thank you for giving it to me. I’ve been trying to earn one of your gifts for over a year.”

  “You…” He was sprawled in the backseat between Cole and Kate, seemingly unaware of where he was. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Lydia. “You knew about the Easter eggs?”

  “I know it’s your calling card, and each night you go out, you give one to your favorite dancer. It’s very mysterious. You like that, don’t you? You like leaving a trail of mysterious eggs that no one will ever figure out.”

  His boyish smile appeared out of place with the sexual heat simmering in his foggy gaze. The kid was certainly unconventional and strange. But eccentricity was often associated with intellectual giftedness. As the most notorious hacker in the world, he was undoubtedly a genius.

  “How did you find…?” His face paled, eyes widening as he shot up and gripped his bandaged arm. “Oh my God! I got shot!”

  “The bullet grazed you. You’re fine.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her as he wildly looked around the car, taking in the other passengers.

  “Who are you?” He pulled his feet up onto the seat, gasping and scrambling to get away with nowhere to go.

  Cole gently held him in place as she reached out a hand, touching the kid’s knee, trying to soothe him.

  “We didn’t shoot you, PaulVer. We’re a vigilante team.” She met his terrified gaze. “The shooters were assassins hired by Vincent Barrington. The President-elect is trying to kill me and anyone involved in exposing his crimes.”

  He stilled, his expression awash with disbelief. Then his breathing sped up, his voice rising in volume and urgency. “Let me out. Stop the car. Let me out of the fucking car!”

  Everyone in the civilized world knew who Vincent Barrington was. She couldn’t expect him to believe her fantastical claim, and at this point, there was no calming him down.

  Matias drove the other SUV, leading them to the rendezvous point. In the meantime, she just needed to tell PaulVer her story and hope he wasn’t too scared out of his mind to listen.

  “Twelve years ago, Vincent Barrington killed my father in a Russian hotel room. My father was NSA, and the murder was recorded. That recording is in the hands of the Romanian mafia. I need you to get that video file.”

  He shook his head rapidly, but the pace of his breaths lost momentum. He was listening, despite his fear. He was listening because he was too smart not to pay attention.

  She started over from the beginning, filling in details about her dad, her ruse as a swallow in Vincent’s employment, Mike’s death, her fourteen-month hunt for his Easter eggs, and his ability to bring justice for all of it.

  “You’re vigilantes.” He swallowed, eying Cole with suspicion. “Like…you kill people?”

  “We killed the fuckers who shot you.” Tiago jerked the wheel, deliberately causing PaulVer to tumble into Cole.

  She exchanged a look with Cole, attempting to borrow some of his composed patience.

  “We’re part of a vigilante team that eliminates evil people.” She reached up and pulled off her blue wig, letting him see her natural red hair, her identity. “Human sex traffickers, pedophiles, and greedy, corrupt politicians.” She sighed. “Look, I’m only asking if you can hack into the Romanian mafia’s network and steal the recording, watch the video, and decide for yourself.”

  “You won’t kill me?”

  “Do you traffic women and sell children to predators?”

  “No!” He made a horrified face.

  “Do you murder innocent people?”

  “No. I’ve never killed anyone. I steal from monopolized corporations and give the money to people who need it.” He rolled his lips. “And I like pretty dancers. But I don’t…I would never hurt a woman. I just like to give them my painted eggs.”

  Her chest swelled with hope, but she felt the tension in the car. Everyone was on edge, holding their breaths. There was so much at stake, hinging on an eccentric, fearful teenage boy.

  He lowered his feet to the floorboard and leaned toward her, bracing his elbows on his knees.

  “I found a back door last year.” He raised his dark eyes to her, his accent thickening. “I’m already inside the mafia’s network.”

  Her pulse took off, dancing through her veins. She was so strung out, so anxious and overjoyed she thought she might puke.

  “Help us.” She lifted a trembling hand to his hairless jaw and let him see the tears welling in her eyes. “Please.”

  “What will you do with the video?”

  “Twelve years ago, it was turned into the NSA. I don’t know who saw the footage, but they did nothing. They covered it up and let it fall into the hands of the mafia. I’m reluctant to trust anyone in the government, especially now that Vincent Barrington is five days from becoming our President.” She drew a breath. “I was hoping you could disperse it, broadcast it all over the Internet, make it impossible to cover up. Americans need to know who they voted into office.”

  He leaned back and stared out the window, watching buildings and street signs blur by. “Turn left here and head north. There’s a Starbucks up the road. They have a strong WIFI signal.”

  As Tiago veered left and followed PaulVer’s directions, Cole called Matias and told him where to go.

  “Thank you.” Her ribs expanded with the unstoppable release of years of pent-up emotion.

  A tear escaped, running down her cheek, and Cole moved in, gripping the back of her head and kissing away the salty river.

  “I’m sorry.” She laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a long time coming, and I’m emotional.”

  “A moment I don’t want to miss.” He touched his forehead to hers.

  Tiago pulled into the vacant parking lot of Starbucks and parked behind the building. Matias pulled in beside him.

  There, PaulVer sat in the SUV with his laptop and dug through the mafia’s network files. She’d given him her father’s name and every keyword she could conjure, which he loaded into his software program to scan the mafia’s metadata.

  Then they waited on pins and needles.

  Most of them stood outside the vehicles behind the building. Out of view of the street, they watched and listened for the Romanian police.

  The sirens never came.

  Three hours later, PaulVer stepped out of the SUV and handed her the laptop. “I think this is it.”

  She stared down at the paused video, her stomach twisting in knots. “Did you watch it?”

  “Yes.” He frowned, his face appearing older somehow. “It’s bloody. Definitely Vincent Barrington committing murder.”

  “You don’t have to watch it.” Cole cupped her jaw, pulling her gaze to his. “Once you see it, you’ll carry the image with you for the rest of your life.”

  �
��My imagination can’t be much better.” She pressed play and clutched Cole’s strong hand.

  On the screen, her dad walked through a hotel room and opened the door. Vincent stepped in as her dad shook his head, speaking rapidly.

  “There’s no sound?” Her voice shook.

  “No,” PaulVer said.

  Her dad looked calm, albeit a little surprised and annoyed to see Vincent. When the door shut behind Vincent, it happened fast. Vincent pulled a knife from behind him and slashed it across her dad’s throat. A clean cut, deep and fast.

  He hadn’t seen it coming, which meant he trusted the man.

  If she had to guess, her dad had set up the video recording because he was expecting a visitor. Possibly the Russian informant he was supposed to meet. When Vincent showed up, he probably didn’t want him there because he was expecting someone else.

  He wasn’t expecting to die. Richard Pictam had taught her everything she knew about combat fighting, weaponry, and self-defense. No one could get the drop on him. Unless he trusted them.

  Regardless, the video quality was perfect, the identities on the footage irrefutable.

  “That’s him.” Tears quivered through her voice. “Give it to the world.”

  Cole wrapped his arms around her from behind, holding her tight as PaulVer switched screens on the laptop and hit a button on one of his software programs.

  “It’s sending now.” He bounced a little on his toes. “It’s hitting social media platforms, major news networks, and government agencies all over the world. Inboxes everywhere are receiving the file. It’s done.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled away from Cole and flung her arms around PaulVer’s neck. “Thank you so damn much.”

  When she pulled away, the kid blushed and stared at his feet.

  She turned back to Cole, and he was right there, waiting, smiling with two gorgeous, irresistible dimples.

  “It’s over,” she whispered.

  “It’s only just begun.” He caught her nape and hauled her in, taking her mouth with pure and vulnerable passion.

  In his kiss was heartbreak and risk and choice and chance and a million dreams all condensed into a moment.

  A moment hard-won.

  In his kiss, she won love.

  Dublin, Ireland

  Two weeks later

  Lydia visited the house in Dublin 22 one more time. She thought she needed the closure, but now she didn’t know. Her heart was a mess.

  “I don’t know why I’m here.” She paced through the small kitchen, looking around for anything she might want to keep.

  “Do you want to go through his clothes?” Cole sat at the table, watching her steadily.

  She and Mike didn’t own anything. No pictures. No clothes worth keeping. Nothing of value. Instead of collecting material objects, she’d collected tattoos. Her memories of him were inked on her body. She had the egg Mike painted, and she kept the image of his lopsided smile safely in her mind. That was all she needed.

  There hadn’t been a funeral service. No big send-off. After she had him cremated, she and Cole flew to London, stood on the Westminster Bridge in the moonlight, and poured Mike’s ashes in the River Thames.

  She let her brother go.

  “I’m still trying to come to terms with it all.”

  “There’s no hurry, Lydia. Take your time, and I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

  He hadn’t left her side since the night they released the video. PaulVer had done exactly what he’d said. The video went viral, and within twenty-four hours, Vincent Barrington was arrested for murder.

  She and Cole had been glued to the news stations for the past two weeks, watching the drama unfold as Vincent was handcuffed and hauled away. The trial would make history. Those in the NSA who covered up his crimes would be named and charged, too.

  Vincent Barrington would never see daylight again.

  Cole had asked her if she wanted more justice than that. He said he couldn’t make promises, but he would find a way to have Vincent murdered in prison.

  She didn’t want that. Death would be too easy. For a man who had lived so extravagantly off the rewards of his corruption, a concrete cell and penal labor would be the worst kind of hell.

  Let him rot behind bars.

  She treaded to the window and pulled back the curtain, gazing out at the dead lawn and the quiet street beyond. The snow had long melted, taking the trail of blood with it.

  “There’s nothing left here but haunting memories,” she murmured.

  “Then you need a reminder of the good ones.”

  The chair squeaked as Cole stood, drawing her attention. He tapped on the screen of his phone and set it on the table. A moment later, a feminine Irish voice sang from the speaker.

  Doo doo doo do, doo doo doo do.

  Her sinuses flooded with searing, sticky emotion. Her vision blurred. Gasps rose and fell from her chest. By the time the first tear fell, he was in her arms, holding her, rocking slowly as he sang along with “Ode To My Family” by The Cranberries.

  He kissed her softly as she sobbed out the agonies of her heart. He danced with her in the living room where Mike had slept without complaint. He swayed with her in the kitchen where Shannon had made her magical stew. Then he made love to her in the bed where he’d given himself to her completely and irrevocably on Christmas Eve.

  He stared into her eyes as he entered her body as if it were the first time. No regrets passed between them as he stroked inside her, taking his pleasure and giving it back with the devotion of his lips.

  He would never leave her. Never let her go. She felt that promise as he looked into her eyes, fucked her achingly slow, and said, “I love you.”

  “I love you, Cole. Thank you for taking the risk with me.”

  “You were worth the risk, Lydia. You made me whole again.”

  He made her whole, too.

  She’d lost her family, and though they could never be replaced, he’d given her a new one.

  They shared a complicated history, but love was their magic ingredient. With a kiss, it annihilated twelve years of revenge and eight years of loneliness. If that wasn’t magic, she didn’t know what was.

  Cayman Islands

  Two years later

  Today was the day. Nervousness might have been a natural response in Cole’s position, but he lived for this shit—the tremor of looming danger, the rush of adrenaline, and the thrill in fighting for something meaningful.

  It didn’t get more meaningful than this.

  White-crested waves rolled in from the sun-bleached horizon, lapping at his sandaled feet. He strolled along the beach, hands resting in the pockets of his swim shorts as his eyes moved from sand to sunbathers, from cobblestone pathways to crowded beach-side bars.

  The panorama captured the essence of a laid-back paradise along with the elegance of a luxury resort. But he wasn’t here to work on his tan.

  The warm midday sunshine injected frissons of energy beneath his skin. He was here to keep his eyes open and senses honed, for today, he would see a year-long dream finally come to fruition.

  The blue skies were clear as far as he could see. Even the weather smiled on his plans.

  Up ahead, a good-looking guy ran down the beach and leaped in a burst of strength, catching a football midair. His cheerleaders jumped from their loungers and clapped their hands, whistling.

  As he turned to launch the ball back to the group, he met Cole’s eyes.

  Joshua.

  He hadn’t always been a gun-toting vigilante. Before Liv, he had a promising future as a professional football player.

  His green eyes glinted with his smile. There was no resentment there. No misgivings.

  With a nod to Cole, he sent a message.

  Nothing was amiss. Everything and everyone was in place.

  Cole continued on, strolling toward the group. Liv, Amber, and Van watched as Livana raced toward the spiraling football that Joshua passed back. She miss
ed the catch, laughing at her fumble while her gaze made a furtive sweep of the perimeter.

  As the only child of Van and Liv, she had big shoes to fill. But Cole had spent a lot of time training her over the years. She was sharp, fearless, and deadly with a gun.

  He ambled past the group, smiling a friendly greeting.

  Van sat beside Amber on the lounger, leaning in to tease the string on her bikini top. But like his daughter, his eyes were razor-sharp, probing the surroundings until they landed on Cole.

  A toothpick rolled at the corner of Van’s smirk, cocky and chilling.

  Scary as fuck.

  But Cole trusted him with his life. He trusted all of them.

  While Joshua entertained them with his athletic dexterity, they played their parts as clueless vacationers, lounging and soaking up the sun.

  No one knew they were killers. Every single one of them. They were a highly-trained, fiercely passionate team of vigilantes, and they were here to take down a multi-national criminal enterprise that catered to pedophiles.

  There were one-hundred-and-twenty child predators mingling at the resort, all gathered for an annual convention. On the surface, it was a fun-in-the-sun holiday for business. But what happened after dark behind locked doors was so sick, sadistic, and inhumane that it called for justice without lawyers and trials.

  It called for the Freedom Fighters.

  When the team received the signal, they would dig their firearms out of the sand and take justice into their own hands.

  Cole veered off the beach and headed into the resort, swapping warm oceanic air for air-conditioned breezeways.

  He passed through one of the many indoor bars and spotted Luke, Tomas, and Vera at one of the card tables, playing poker with their targets. Handbags sat at their feet, concealing their weapons.

  A hand brushed his arm, and he turned his neck, coming face to face with Rylee’s huge silver eyes.

  “Hey, handsome.” Her cheeks rose with a smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

  “Tremendously. You?”

  “Everything’s perfect.” She winked and sauntered off to rejoin the group at the card table.