My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

  Armed men stood on deck. They were dressed in black with no identifying colors. That alone told him what he was up against, and it wasn’t good news. The heavy weaponry both on their hips and slashed across their chests were top of the line and in excellent condition. Remy had the sick feeling these were a portion of the weapons stolen.

  Large crates were stacked on the deck, each with a logo. His breath caught as the view focused and he saw the logo clearly.

  Venom.

  “Have you heard of Venom before?” he asked.

  Ava didn’t answer, her concentration focused on the ship heading their way.

  Memories invaded before he had a chance to relax his mind. The word repeated over and over in thick accents. He didn’t understand them at first, the language so choppy and forceful, like a hurricane in his head. When Remy finally did understand, he thought they were just repeating the word to add another layer of torture. It was effective if that was their intention. The word was permanently branded into his brain.

  They had wanted information on Venom.

  And Venom was sailing right toward him.

  Remy watched as an alarm scattered the men into position.

  “They’ve spotted us,” Remy said. “Get below deck.”

  “Why?”

  “If they only want me, then they have no reason to come looking for you.”

  “They’ll expect me,” she protested.

  “I’ll tell them I came alone.”

  “They’ll board the boat. I won’t escape,” she said, digging her heels. “And I didn’t come to escape. I came to end this once and for all.”

  “This is not the time to fight. We won’t win. Not by a long shot. Our only chance is to split up.”

  Ava shook her head, protests forming on her lips.

  Remy stooped and kissed her, silencing and stunning them both. But, like all things, it had to end. It was not meant to be.

  Remy tore himself away. “I know you will come for me. It’s the only way. We have no other options. Contact David and Boyer and get their help.”

  Remy could see the conflict race across Ava’s face. She reluctantly nodded.

  “Go. Hide.”

  “Bro . . . Remy—”

  “Go.”

  “But—”

  “You can tell me when you come and rescue my ass.”

  Her eyes widened, and a wry smile hinted on her lips. “You’re such a tragic lass.”

  “I will be if you don’t find me,” he agreed, keeping his tone light. But just knowing Venom was closing in had affected him to a degree he was acutely uncomfortable with. “Go.”

  “I will find you,” she promised.

  He took one last glance at Ava as she hurried below, snapping the door shut.

  If she could find a decent hiding place, they might not find her. They could have spotted her already, but Remy didn’t think so. He prayed they’d believe whatever BS story he gave them.

  Without the binoculars, he watched as the dot grew bigger until the carrier towered over him, eclipsing the sun and sending him into a cold shadow.

  Remy stood in the middle of the deck with his hands raised in surrender.

  At least now he would get some answers.

  He stayed silent as the men looked down at him, weapons pointed. The ship moved slowly alongside his boat, keeping enough distance so his boat wouldn’t get tugged under their current.

  An annoying bead of perspiration formed on his brow as a speedboat launched from the ship, veering in his direction.

  Remy kept his hands raised as three men boarded. He knew their type—brash and quick to engage—and he didn’t want to be unconscious or bloody for his . . . detainment.

  Remy gritted his teeth as they gave commands in perfect English. No accent.

  The fucking bastards were American. Remy stamped down his anger. It wouldn’t serve him to lose his temper now. Instead, he made a promise to find the person responsible and take him down.

  As two men shoved Remy to the speed boat, one went below deck. Remy didn’t bother to try to stop him. Even if the man was able to find Ava, he wouldn’t be conscious long enough to do anything about it. Remy hoped she’d evade the man’s notice, though. He was counting on her.

  Once Remy and the two men had boarded the speed boat, the third returned without Ava.

  “It’s clear,” he said, hopping over the rail and onto the speeder.

  Remy didn’t dare breathe his relief. He knew they were watching him, waiting for any signs.

  “Light it,” another said.

  A bottle with a rag shoved into the top was lit on fire. Remy scrambled, bulldozing one man off the side of the boat in his struggle to get to the Molotov cocktail. He wasn’t quick enough. The bottle was launched.

  “No!”

  Chapter 10

  Remy blinked his eyes open to see blue sky above him. He sat up, wincing as his equilibrium shifted.

  Ava!

  Remy scanned the area, realizing he was on the carrier deck. The armed crew was at the rail, watching the burning boat grow smaller and smaller as the ship sailed away.

  Acid burned in Remy’s throat, rising like the smoke polluting the cloudless sky.

  This was his fault. He should’ve known they wouldn’t leave a boat floating around for evidence. He only prayed that Ava was able to call for rescue. Unless she was still hiding. God, she might not even know the boat was ablaze.

  Remy wanted to shout a warning, but even that wouldn’t do any good at this distance. The boat was so far away it looked like a flame on a candle.

  He saw the explosion before he heard it. The sky lit in orange, then fizzled to nothing as smoke enveloped the area. Fear strangled him.

  “I guess it wasn’t all clear after all,” a man from the speeder said after seeing Remy’s expression. It earned a laugh from those around him.

  Remy launched at him, slamming him to the ground with such force the man blacked out on contact.

  They were going to pay for this.

  * * *

  Ava smelled the fire before she saw it. Smoke trailed like a heavy stratus cloud and blanketed the deck. The fire spread as if it was gobbling fuel.

  Ava raced to the fire extinguisher, hoping it wasn’t too late to save the boat. But she knew it wouldn’t be long before it was engulfed, especially if an accelerant had been used. She sprayed the base of the fire, hoping it might buy her a little time, but the fire was out of control. She had to call for help.

  Hurrying to the console, Ava had just enough time to initiate the emergency rescue call as she watched the fire spit sparks. She exited, having only given coordinates. She tugged a self-inflating raft to the railing. Pulling the ripcord, Ava pushed the yellow monstrosity into the water. The quick inflation knocked her down as the tight bundle ballooned in seconds. In the time it took to reach the water, it was fully inflated. Ava jumped in after it, the flames already licking at her heels.

  Struggling with drenched clothes, Ava pulled herself aboard the lifeboat as she shivered from the icy water. She hadn’t thought much of the man who had rented the boat to her, but she thanked the stars he had enough sense to keep an emergency raft on board. Not only did it save her from freezing or drowning, but it gave her rescuers something easy to locate. The way the fire was spreading, she doubted the boat would still be around when they arrived.

  In fact, the blaze was already to the rear where the tanks . . .

  Oh, crap!

  Ava dug her hands into the water, paddling to distance herself. Dammit! The raft wasn’t budging.

  Taking one last glance at the flaming bomb, she dove into the water, ducking under the raft. The water lit to an orange-red hue, shifting as an explosion sent Titanic-sized slivers in every direction. Flames danced on floating lumber until they finally burned out, sizzling as the water extinguished them.

  Ava pulled herself back onto the raft, feeling soggy and beat. The raft was unusually soft. She sat straight up, scanning the lifeboat. A th
in stick poked out from the side, leaking precious air.

  She crawled over to inspect it. If she left it alone, she’d be waterlogged within a half hour, maybe sooner. But if she took the stick out and tried to plug it with a finger, she might have even less time. Either way, time wasn’t on her side. She was hundreds of miles from land, too far away for a quick rescue.

  Ava tore the rough wood from the raft and pressed her thumb to the hole as air gusted out. She breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed to work. No air slipped past her thumb, but she now wondered how long she could keep it in place without succumbing to fatigue or a hand cramp.

  It didn’t matter. She had told Remy she would come for him. A promise was a promise. Plus, she had no desire to die, especially not out in the middle of the ocean.

  But where would the ship take him?

  Who were those men?

  With a sigh, Ava leaned against the side of the raft, keeping her hand steady.

  At least she’d learned something. It wasn’t much, but it would lead her to Remy.

  Venom.

  * * *

  Remy awoke in a dark room. Not a speck of light was visible to help him get his bearings. By the feel of it, he was lying on metal. And he was definitely on the ship. He heard the far-away hum of the motor and felt the slightest motion of the craft as it cut through the water.

  He briefly wondered where they were heading, but thoughts of Ava overran his mind. Was it possible that Ava had escaped the blast? If anyone could, she could. But that was just hope talking, not reality.

  The pain that squeezed his chest and suffocated him was different this time. Six years ago he had thought he was betrayed and that he didn’t really know Ava as he thought he did. But now he knew she was a victim just like him. He’d wasted six years hating her, and now she was gone.

  No, she couldn’t be. He wouldn’t believe it.

  Remy cringed as he sat up. Whoever hit him hadn’t held back. At least he got in a few good punches beforehand. But not many. The crew was military trained.

  It made him wonder about the men on this boat. Were they just here for the money? Was there a cause they were fighting for?

  Remy had a feeling it was just for the money, and that made him feel slightly more at ease. Greedy people were easily swayed. Those fighting for a cause were not.

  Standing, Remy let his legs settle before he attempted to move. Between the knocks on the head and the moving vessel, Remy wasn’t too confident he could walk without falling.

  After a moment, he took a step, stretching out his arms to feel for obstructions or walls. He cursed as his shin banged against something metal.

  Light slashed across the room as a door opened. Remy blinked against the brightness that illuminated three guards standing in the corridor.

  Remy looked down at the metal bunk he had walked into. “You couldn’t have aimed for the bed when you dumped me in here?”

  “Come with us,” one ordered.

  Remy rubbed the back of his neck, stretching as he walked to the door. He wouldn’t give the men any trouble. Let them start thinking he was biddable. They’d let their guard down eventually. It was only a matter of time. Time he really didn’t have.

  Remy followed one guard while the other two stayed behind, nudging him with their rifles if he fell behind a step or two. That didn’t bother him too much. What did bother him was the way his stomach rolled back and forth. He hadn’t eaten for . . . had it already been a day? However long it was, there was positively no food left in his system. So why did he want to throw up? What was there to purge?

  When Remy was young, he had originally wanted to become a Navy SEAL. That dream died on his first boat tour . . . docked in the harbor.

  Remy hated feeling weak. He desperately wanted to ask for sea-sickness medication, but then they’d know how feeble he felt. No, he would power through this like he had with all of his other missions. Not everything in life was easy. He learned to make do with the resources available.

  Right now, he had a ship. Could he commandeer it? Alone? It was something to think about, though he wasn’t going to waste much energy on it.

  As Remy continued to follow along, he realized they were taking him to the captain. Huh. Maybe he could commandeer it.

  They stopped at a door. The man rapt his knuckles against it and then cracked the door open, waiting for permission to enter.

  “Captain?”

  “Enter,” was the barely audible response.

  The guard pushed the door open wide and stepped through. Remy followed since he had no other options at the moment. Even if he did have options, Remy had no intention of walking away from the person responsible for murder and treason.

  The office was larger than he expected. Something about war ships brought to mind confined quarters and a lot of sterile painted metal. But this changed his view dramatically as he took in the thick carpeted floor, the large oak desk, and decorative furnishings. Comfort reigned in this office. Judging from his limited knowledge of military ships, this was no ordinary captain. But then, he already knew that.

  “It seems whatever we do, it’s never enough.”

  Remy followed the voice to the chair behind the desk, turned so the occupant could look out the floor-to-ceiling window. Was it a specially designed modification?

  “I know killing you will never be enough,” Remy retorted. His neck veins pulsed as he tethered his temper.

  A dry laugh filled the room. “You never change, Brock.”

  Brock?

  Remy didn’t know why the use of his old name shocked him, but it did. He was being thrown back into a life and time he didn’t want to relive. And yet, he had no choice if he wanted to finish this once and for all.

  “You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Remy stated. “You’re a coward, just like your men.”

  Remy’s knees buckled as a blow to the back of his legs came hard and swift.

  “You’ll never learn, will you?” The chair turned as Remy stood back on his feet.

  He nearly toppled back over.

  Jeremy French.

  * * *

  Ava watched helplessly as a cruiser sped toward her. Did they see her? The vessel’s fast pace told her they didn’t. She was useless with one arm waving and one stuck to the raft, holding the air in.

  Just before she was about to dive overboard, the boat slowed and drifted close, nudging her raft. This craft was only slightly smaller than the bucket she had rented. It was built for speed and in far better shape. The silent deck bobbed above, threatening to crash down on her.

  Her gut told her that whoever this was, they were no friend and certainly not the Coast Guard.

  She wondered if her call for help had been intercepted. A bad feeling slithered inside her as she waited for someone to appear on the boat’s bow. Why were they taking so long? Ava wanted to call out, but fear silenced her.

  * * *

  Remy lunged for Jeremy French, plowing over the desk before he was hauled back and slammed to the floor by two guards. The soft carpet absorbed the fall, not that Remy would have felt pain in his current state.

  He wrenched away and stood, glowering at the blond weasel sitting calmly in front of him.

  “You didn’t plan for this scenario, did you?” French asked. His hand waved lazily at his surroundings. “It’s amazing what you can buy nowadays. One of our very own Navy ships.” He stood and strolled around the desk to face Remy head-on. “You’d think the Navy would want it back. But it’s been covered up. Just like all those weapons that keep disappearing.”

  “What the hell do you want with me?”

  “So angry,” French tsked. “And here I thought you’d be pleased with my surprise.”

  “What surprise?”

  “Ava, of course. You didn’t plan for that scenario, either, did you?” French smiled. “I figured a reunion was in order.”

  “You bastard! You’ve been using Ava.” Remy’s chest tightened. “Her death is on your han
ds.” Even though he shouted the words at French like a foul curse, they boomeranged back, cutting through his heart. Ava’s death was on Remy’s hands. He should’ve listened to her when she first asked for help. If he had, none of this would have happened.

  French raised a brow. “Why would I want her dead? She’s my inside at the CID.”

  “Your men blew up her boat.”

  He shrugged. “You know the drill. All evidence needs to be destroyed. I can’t leave an empty boat drifting along. You should have said she was onboard. Ava and I have a very pleasant working relationship.”

  Remy struck out, landing a solid right hook that snapped French’s head to the side from his undefended blow. Guards held Remy back from doing further damage.

  French straightened, his hand cupping his cheek. “I forgot how wicked your hooks are.” He opened his mouth, testing his jaw. “You still care for Ava after all of these years; after all you thought she’d done.”

  Remy shoved a guard aside, only to get blocked by another.

  With a hand signal, French gave the order to stand down. “Ava is alive.”

  Remy stilled. “Alive? But you blew up the boat.”

  “We had eyes on her. She made a call before diving overboard. She’s safe in an emergency raft, waiting for the Coast Guard to pick her up.”

  Ava was alive? She survived? French had to be lying. Why would he leave her for the Coast Guard to pick up? They’d want to know what happened. French would be an idiot to take that chance.

  “If she’s alive, then why didn’t you turn around and get her?”

  “Turn this ship around? Do you realize what you are saying?” French responded.

  No. Remy didn’t have a clue what he was saying. He had no idea what the hell was going on.

  “It doesn’t matter; I wouldn’t have let her board anyway,” French said.

  “Why not?”