My Traitor

by Nicolette Pierce

  * * *

  “If I was experimented on, why would Venom allow me to live?” Remy asked. The thought of being someone’s lab experiment made his skin crawl. He would’ve known, wouldn’t he? It’s not like he was a small man who could be easily moved. No one person could carry him to a hotel room. A flash of red hair resurfaced from memories he had no recollection of. Her face was shaded, blurred into nothingness. Christ, he must have been lured.

  “I don’t think you were supposed to live,” French answered. “The only reason Venom would leave you alone is if he thought you were dead.” French scratched his jaw, a peculiar expression on his face. “Or maybe—”

  There was a knock on the office door.

  “Enter,” French called.

  A guard opened the door. “The jet is ready.”

  “Good. We’ll be there in a moment.”

  The guard nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

  Remy stood, ready for action. While he still wasn’t one hundred percent sold on French’s involvement, he did need the man’s help . . . and his jet.

  French opened a desk drawer, withdrawing two revolvers. “You might as well gear up. We’ll be landing near the Turkey/Iraq border. I had hoped to bring the crew, but it looks like it will be just you and me.”

  Remy took one of the guns to inspect it. “How do you know Ava is there?”

  “I don’t.” French stood, taking the other gun. “But I recently heard of a man who was taken. The villagers say it was Venom. I want to hear the story.”

  “We don’t have time. We have to find Ava and rescue her first.”

  “And how do you propose we find her? The only information we have is from a cryptic feed, demanding Venom. We have to follow all leads.”

  Remy shoved the gun into his waistband and headed to the door. “Then let’s go.”

  “Have you ever been catapulted from a carrier before?” French asked nonchalantly.

  Remy ran his hand over his head. “Are you frickin’ kidding me?”

  “The jet can’t clear the runway.” He clapped Remy on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

  “Catapulting a jet I’m sitting in doesn’t constitute as fun.”

  French shrugged. “Well, just fun for me, then.”

  * * *

  Ava and her opponent circled each other, each bloodied and weak. Ava’s adrenaline had run its course. She was left drained, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the dirt and nap.

  While he still wore the cloth over his face, she didn’t need to see his face to know he was hurting just as much—or that she had broken his nose. She’d heard a snap when she landed the right hook.

  Ava smiled.

  The man growled words that she assumed were unflattering. He struck out, catching a fistful of her hair. She let out a very embarrassing high-pitched squeak as he yanked her toward him. Not a smart move on his part. She took advantage of the close proximity and kneed him in the groin so hard he let out an identical squeak and fell to his knees. She came down hard, elbowing him in the lights-out sweet spot. He sprawled, face first.

  Wiping the sweat from her brow, Ava winced as pain shot up her arm. Fresh red blood oozed around the dried. She must be more injured than she’d thought. There wasn’t time to worry about that. She had to get to Natan and speak with him. She hoped he wouldn’t be as difficult to reason with as this man had been. Ava had nothing left to give.

  She reached down, her fingers gripping the man’s face cloth. She wanted to see her opponent. In her mind, he was nothing but eyes and blank space.

  “Stop!” a voice shouted from behind her.

  Ava dropped the cloth and straightened, feeling her muscles already starting to contract. She looked around to find she was surrounded. The armed militant group encircled her with expressions ranging from Natan’s fury to Hollywood’s amazement.

  When did they arrive? She hadn’t even noticed them. She doubted her opponent had either.

  “I don’t suppose you have a bandage,” she said, not knowing what else to say. It wasn’t as if there was an after-fight protocol manual. What did one say to a pissed-off band of foreign-speaking militants?

  “On your knees!” Natan ordered.

  When Ava didn’t budge, mainly because she couldn’t feel her knees let alone her legs to bend them, he crossed over and shoved her down.

  “I should kill you right now,” he threatened.

  Ava didn’t bother responding; she knew it was a threat and nothing more. There was a reason he held her for ransom. He wouldn’t jeopardize his only bargaining chip, especially for beating only one man. Well, two, if she counted the guard, but he was too easy.

  She hazarded a glance up at Natan, who still pressed her shoulder to keep her down. “I didn’t kill him. He’ll wake up in twenty minutes.”

  He let out a sound of annoyance, jostling her flat to the dusty ground. Blood dripped onto the beige dirt, staining it.

  He barked an order, something she couldn’t understand. A few men stepped forward, one with binds for Ava and the other . . . what the hell? Two men bent over the masked man and began tying his wrists and legs.

  “What’s going on?” Ava asked.

  “You have no idea what you’ve just done!” he snarled, yanking her from the ground as soon as the bindings were tight. He shoved her to a guard. “Get her inside, now! Don’t open the door for anyone.”

  Ava stumbled into the guard. She cried out as he grabbed her injured arm. He eased his grip but didn’t let go. He hurried Ava to the building, and she wondered if he was rushing because of the order or because of something else.

  A flurry of activity and calls caused her to look back. What she saw chilled her.

  Chapter 13

  David paced the marble entryway as he waited for Greyson. Mya’s voice floated from a room above, blanketing him with a calm he shouldn’t feel, not with Remy MIA. She thought they were here to help Jenna redecorate, but David needed to talk to Greyson . . . if he’d hurry the bloody hell up.

  David rolled his eyes as giggles echoed along the marble. Jenna was head over heels for Greyson, her giggling a side effect of that ailment. God, had he ever been so ridiculously in love like that? Then he heard Mya laugh and his question was answered. Yes, and still ailing.

  “Greyson!” David barked.

  His brother wandered from the room above, peering over the railing. “What?”

  “Did you forget that I was waiting?”

  “No, I just don’t care that you’re waiting.”

  “Very funny. Get your ass down here. I need to talk to you.”

  He didn’t budge.

  “It’s important!”

  “So is this,” he said, pointing to the bedroom.

  “They’re decorating.”

  “I know.”

  David eyed his brother. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Please,” David grated.

  Greyson’s brows rose. He pushed off from the railing and jogged down the stairs. “I don’t think you’ve ever said please to me.”

  “And you’ll never hear it again.”

  Female laughter floated down again, distracting Greyson.

  David grimaced. “You’ve turned into a lovesick ass.”

  Greyson shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

  “Can you get your head out of the clouds for a minute? It’s about Remy,” David whispered the last part, not wanting the girls to overhear.

  “What about him?” Greyson asked, finally paying attention.

  David dragged him over to the study and closed the door. “Remember Ava?”

  “How could I not? I had to buy a new door and patio furniture.”

  “She was searching for Remy; they had hooked up years back.”

  “They were lovers?”

  David cringed. “If you must use that word, sure. Anyway, he’s MIA now.”

  “Maybe they hooked up again and don’
t want to be disturbed. I understand the feeling,” he muttered, glancing at the door.

  David shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from ringing Greyson’s neck. He was going to have to tell Greyson the entire story so he could grasp the seriousness of Remy’s predicament. Greyson wasn’t stupid, not by a mile. And the lovesick dolt was a linchpin in David’s plan.

  “Sit down,” David said. “I need to start from the beginning.”

  * * *

  Remy clung to the safety harness that secured him to the jet seat. The plane was positioned on a runway, the nose secured to a piston below that was ready to fling them into the air.

  “What happens if we don’t get up to speed?” Remy asked.

  “We take a swim,” French said, a smile on his face. It faltered as he looked out at the runway.

  Remy had noted a slight change in French’s demeanor since they began cooperating with each other. French’s prideful sullenness was giving way. Remy could almost see the young French reemerging. Remy was thankful for that. Too many lives were ruined already. But there was still something that was pulling French back. Something that was keeping him tethered down.

  Or someone?

  Ava.

  A wave of nausea had Remy closing his eyes. He chalked it up to being stuck in a deathtrap, ready to be launched into the deep ocean. But he knew that was a lie. Remy didn’t want to compete with French, but he knew it would happen. French would be an idiot to walk away from Ava after he’d loved her and protected her these past years. And how could Remy compete against that? He had shoved Ava away, labeling her a traitor, while French stood by her.

  It was Remy who was the idiot.

  And even though it might be too late to claim Ava’s heart, he’d do everything in his power to find her, even if it meant being catapulted.

  “Let’s bring her home,” Remy said, steeling himself.

  “Are you ready?” French asked.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  “You do know how to fly this thing, right?” Remy asked, wondering why he hadn’t asked that before.

  French flipped a few switches and nodded. “I think we’ll get there in one piece.”

  * * *

  Ava was shoved into the holding room. The door slammed shut before she could turn. The bolt scraped into place, locking her in.

  “Let me out!” she yelled, banging frantically on the door.

  Shouts came from beyond the walls, seeping fear through the cracks. What had happened? She’d knocked the man out. But he got up after only a few minutes. That had never happened before. He broke out of his bindings like they were nothing more than a few worn threads.

  She pressed her ear against the door, straining to hear. A strangled cry filled her with dread. Natan said she did something to cause this, but what? She’d only defended herself.

  Shouting grew closer. The walls pulsed from the battle just outside her door. He was coming for her.

  Ava scurried away to stand behind the metal chair. It wasn’t long before the sounds were on top of her. She gripped the chair as the door splintered and the man with the scary eyes ripped through. He came at her fast, his fists already striking.

  Ava barely dodged his first swing. She backed away, bringing the chair with her. She had hoped to defend herself with it, but he had already caught her. She flailed as he raised her into the air by her shoulders, not even blinking when she kicked him.

  He had changed. In the short time since she had first engaged with him, he’d become different. His strength was off the charts. Had he been holding back before? It wasn’t possible; Ava would’ve known. Something was making him stronger.

  Injured guards filed through, their rifles pointed. Ava scrambled to get away, but she couldn’t free herself from the man’s grip. She didn’t know who the guards were planning to shoot, but Ava was in the line of fire either way.

  Natan charged in, cradling his arm. He spoke rapidly, giving orders that Ava couldn’t understand. The guards stayed put, guns aimed and ready.

  Natan spoke again, this time directly at the man who had Ava in such a tight grip she thought he was going to start snapping bones. The more she struggled, the tighter the grip. She finally stopped, feeling as though she was literally at a breaking point. She cried out, hoping for relief.

  Her pain threshold was past its limits, sending her into a fading blackout. Natan spoke calmly, attempting to reason with her captor, but it was as if the man couldn’t hear; as if he was in his own blackout.

  A shot rang out, and Ava felt the weightlessness of a free fall before contacting the floor, jolting her out of her stupor. She jumped to her feet as another shot was fired. The masked man swung back from the force of the bullet, but it didn’t stop him. He was bleeding from both legs, and yet he still stood, his eyes reflecting demons that hadn’t been there minutes before.

  “Get behind me,” Natan shouted at Ava.

  She did as he ordered and flew over to him.

  “If I give you an opportunity, will you be able to knock him out again?” he asked, keeping his eyes and gun aimed on the other man.

  Ava was bruised and beat; she could hardly lift her arms. “I can try, but it hardly affected him.”

  “All I need is a few seconds.”

  “I can give you that.” She hoped.

  “Wait for my signal,” he said, shoving his gun over to one of the guards. He stepped forward into a defensive stance, but as the other man came at him, Ava realized Natan wasn’t trying to fight. Natan was shoved up against the wall. It crumbled around him as he was pushed farther into it. He held on, but Ava could see the pain he was in. There was no way he could give a signal.

  Running over to the metal chair, she swung it strategically onto the floor. She had to be above the man for an effective knockout. As she jumped onto the chair, the man turned to block her attack. He knocked her from the chair, sending her tumbling to the floor. He stepped on her leg, grinding it. She screamed as pain exploded.

  But then, he stopped; his expression glazed over. Ava scooted away before the man toppled, a syringe poking out of his thigh.

  Natan looked down at the unconscious man and shook his head, his eyes moistened. With one flick of his hand, the guards hauled the man away.

  “This is your fault!” he growled at Ava.

  “My fault?” she clipped. “I realize terrorists have to get their muscle from somewhere, but your recruit is your own problem.”

  “If you hadn’t escaped, he wouldn’t have changed.”

  “If you wouldn’t have locked me up, I wouldn’t have had to escape!”

  His jaw clenched as he looked down at her, still on the floor. Her leg ached, but she wasn’t going to let him see her in pain.

  “You have no idea what you have done!” he shouted again.

  “I defended myself.”

  “You don’t understand. He’ll only get . . .” Natan shook his head and stormed from the room, not bothering to secure the door. It would have been a futile effort anyway. The door was shredded.

  No one was left in the room. Was she free to go? Ava used her elbows to drag herself over to the wall, biting her lip to keep from crying. She’d need the solid surface to help her stand. Taking a breath, Ava put pressure on the wall as she inched her way up. Her leg gave out, sending her back to the floor.

  She groaned as a shockwave burst through her leg.

  Now she knew why no one bothered to secure her; she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Sprawled on the floor, glaring up at the peeling ceiling, Ava cursed.

  * * *

  Greyson paced the study, his strides long and quick. It was a good sign. David knew that Greyson was onboard. Now David just had to get a small favor from him.

  “I want to help,” Greyson said, “but I’m not sure how. I don’t have the resources available to me like I used to. If you need money, I’ll give you all that you need.”

  “I don’t need money, but I do need your
connections.”

  Greyson stopped pacing. “My connections?”

  “You had told me about trying to open a casino in Turkey with a partner, but you decided against it.”

  “That was because I found out he had terrorist connections. He was going to use the casino as a front.”

  “I need you to contact him again.”

  “I reported him. I’m pretty sure he’d rather kill me than talk to me.”

  “He has information I need. If he has connections, he’ll be able to lead me to Venom.”

  “Venom? As in poison?”

  “No, as in the man who took Remy. The one who pumped him so full of chemicals Remy thought he was in an enemy prison.” David scrubbed his hand over his face. He should have told Remy everything when he had the chance. At the time, Remy was so far gone, he couldn’t even understand his own name.

  “He wasn’t in prison?”

  “He was a prisoner,” David said. “But it was his mind that was the jailer.”

  * * *

  Remy grew impatient. They had been to two remote villages, and every villager denied knowing of Venom or any missing men. Even though the language barrier didn’t help matters, he could tell they were lying. Their eyes showed fear.

  French was ready to move on, but Remy knew they’d have the same problem wherever they went.

  “Are you sure this is the right village?” Remy asked.

  “It’s either this one or the one we just left. These are the only two villages in a hundred-mile radius.”

  “Something spooked them,” Remy said.

  French nodded. “We could back off and watch.”

  “We’re running out of time.”

  “But if we push, they’re liable to turn on us. You could probably take on an entire enraged village, but I’d rather not.”

  “Between the two of us, we might stand a chance,” Remy said, knowing he wouldn’t attempt it either way. These people were scared; they weren’t the enemy. Plus, he would never hurt a woman or child.