Ultimate Kill (Book 1 Ultimate CORE Trilogy) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  She grinned at his audacity and confidence, two things she loved about him. With Jake, she always knew where she stood. “And how did you plan to do that?”

  “Good question.”

  “In other words, you had no plan.”

  “Not exactly. Does sex count as a plan of action?”

  She chuckled. “Sex is always a good plan.”

  “Seriously, though. I want to be with you. I don’t want to pick up where we left off, I want us to have a fresh start. I know now isn’t the right time to talk about this, but I needed you to know that—”

  She cupped his strong jaw and kissed him. “I want a fresh start, too. Jake, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you everything. You’re a good man and I trust you more than anyone. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

  “You didn’t deserve any of this. Now that I know the truth, I get why you didn’t tell me about Hunnicutt.” He sent her a rueful smile. “I’m not gonna lie, it was hard for me to accept that my woman was protecting me when it should have been the other way around.”

  She hadn’t thought about how her need to keep him safe might have dented his ego. Her sole focus had been on regaining his trust and starting their lives together all over again. “You’re still the toughest guy I know.”

  “Keep that in mind if you see Dante in action,” he said with a quick grin.

  “Let’s hope Rachel pulls through and that won’t be necessary.”

  The plane started to descend. Her stomach knotted and her chest tightened.

  Jake pulled her into his arms and rubbed a big hand along her back. “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known,” he murmured against her ear. “We’ll get through this.”

  When the pilot came over the intercom and told them to fasten their seatbelts and prepare for landing, she drew away. “Don’t let him take me,” she said, as fear seized her by the throat. “I’d rather die than belong to him.”

  His eyes hardened and turned coal black with murderous rage. “He won’t.”

  Her insides coiled when the jet’s landing gear dropped. Minutes from now, she’d be in a car on her way to Hell. She had no idea what lay ahead, or how Christian would react toward her. Based on their past interactions, she had to prepare for the worst. Jake needed to, as well. “You have to listen to Ian. Stand down unless it looks like Christian is going to…kill me.”

  “Jesus, Naomi.”

  “Let me finish,” she said, then winced when the jet touched the ground. “We need that evidence.”

  “You are the evidence.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not enough to have him executed for being a terrorist.”

  As the jet slowed, he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Screw the evidence,” he said and kissed her knuckles. “Hunnicutt’s a mass murderer.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “He wiped out your family.” He kissed her other cheek. “And he’s hurt the woman I love.” Pressing his forehead against hers, he ran the tip of his finger along her jaw. “Execution would be too easy on him. He deserves to feel pain for every life he’s taken.”

  Sick satisfaction ran through her. She imagined baring Christian’s back and lashing him with a barbed whip. One lash for each life until the flesh fell from him and the pain had become unbearable. Death would be too easy. He needed to suffer.

  When the jet came to a stop, her conscience grabbed hold of her. She blinked several times and tightened her grip around Jake’s hand. She wasn’t a murderer and neither was Jake. Christian needed to suffer, but she was better than him. She had morals. While revenge sounded sweet, she wasn’t sure if she could live with herself knowing she’d killed a man. No matter that he was evil incarnate.

  “Whatever you do, don’t stoop to his level,” she said just as Dante came down the aisle.

  “I paid the pilot his bonus. He’ll vouch that Naomi is the only passenger if Santiago asks.”

  “But what if he wants to come on board?” Naomi asked.

  “Already asked that question. The pilot said he’d make up some FAA rule and get rid of the guy or threaten to call the police. Hunnicutt is a killer, but he’s not stupid.” Dante pierced her with his dark eyes. “He’s so close to finally having you where he wants, I highly doubt he’s going to take any additional risks at this point.”

  “But what if Santiago threatens the pilot with a gun?” Naomi asked, still unconvinced.

  “We shoot him,” Jake said as if shooting a man was an everyday occurrence.

  “No, we’ll hold him at gunpoint and force him to take us to Hunnicutt first.” Dante countered. “If you still want to shoot him then—”

  “Maybe we should just stick with forcing him to take us all to Christian,” Naomi said. With reality setting in, she questioned whether she was brave enough to face the bastard alone.

  Jake bent and raised the hem of his jeans where a gun had been strapped around his calf. “Good plan.”

  “It’s not one we’re going to attempt. We need a little thing called evidence.” Dante reached beneath the seat across the aisle and pulled out a duffle bag. As he unzipped the bag, he glanced to Jake. “Working for CORE is a good gig and not one you want to blow.”

  Jake shook his head. “I had a good gig until Ian—”

  “He saw potential in you.” Dante pulled a small gun from the bag. “There are a number of men and women who would kill to have your job. Follow orders and trust what he says. And trust me on this—you don’t want to screw with Ian.”

  Naomi could tell Jake wanted to say more, but the pilot waved to them and pointed toward the jet’s exit. She didn’t know what Jake’s issues were with his boss and, at this point, it seemed ridiculous to even think about it. When this was over, she’d ask him. She just prayed to God she’d have that chance.

  “Stall him,” Dante called to the pilot, then shifted his gaze to Jake. “Let’s make sure the GPS is still working and call Rachel.”

  After Jake confirmed he still had a lock on her GPS chip, he contacted Rachel and placed the call on speaker.

  “I can tell you landed. How’s your signal?” Rachel asked.

  “The GPS is working,” Jake answered.

  “Jake, remember what I told you.” Naomi immediately recognized Ian’s voice. “Wait until we have the evidence or until I can bring the Feds on board. This has to be done by the book. We can’t allow Hunnicutt to get away on a technicality.”

  Jake and Dante exchanged a look. Dante’s was more of an I told you so, while Jake’s was an I don’t give a shit. Knowing Ian was right, she touched Jake’s arm and mouthed, “Listen to him.”

  The coldness in his eyes softened. “Yes, sir,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

  “My spiders haven’t found anything yet, but I do think I found the last explosion,” Rachel said. “There’s no time for the details, but fortunately only two people were killed. The bombing explosion was obscure and never made the headlines. I’m not sure if Hunnicutt did it to throw everyone off track, or if it was accidental. Either way, I’m hoping this was the last one.”

  Naomi did too. She didn’t want to die, but she would sacrifice her life to stop the bombings. If she survived and the press found out she was the reason hundreds of people had died—

  She drew in a ragged breath. She couldn’t worry about how people would think of her once this was over. Her focus had to remain on one thing. Stopping Christian once and for all.

  The pilot waved again. “There’s a guy approaching the jet.”

  Carrying the duffle bag, Dante moved toward the bathroom in the back, while Jake took a quick look out the window. “We’ve gotta go,” he said to Rachel and Ian. After ending the call and pocketing his phone, he latched onto her hand and pulled her close. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  She clutched the front of his shirt. “I love you.”

  He kissed her. She poured her love and fears into the kiss. She didn’t want to leave his side. For too many years she’d been on her own, running, hiding, l
iving a lie. The years she’d spent without Jake had been lonely. Always worried about involving others in her life, the few friendships she’d developed while living in Woodbine were superficial. On the surface, she’d become a hollow shell of her former self. Before Christian, she’d been bubbly and fun, daring, yet trusting. She’d loved being surrounded by people, being social—she’d loved life. When she’d been with Jake, she’d begun to go back to her old ways, until the bastard had murdered her brother.

  She tore her mouth away. “I want my life back.”

  “With me in it.” His eyes held love, compassion and promise, his voice, strength. “This ends today.”

  “You need to go,” Dante urged her.

  She looked at him and nodded, then turned back to Jake. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Before you know it.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Be strong. I love you.”

  Before the tenderness in his eyes caused her to burst into tears, she rushed down the aisle toward the jet’s cockpit. The pilot gave her a somber nod, and said, “I don’t want to know what Ian has you doing. But, whatever it is, good luck.”

  After he opened the door and pressed a lever to drop a handful of stairs to the ground, she looked across the small airstrip. Several small planes sat near a hanger. Unlike a major airport, there was no activity, no shuttles carrying luggage or employees performing maintenance on planes.

  She drew in a deep, fortifying breath and took a step. Then quickly jerked back.

  “Hola.” Terror gripped her as she immediately recognized the man Christian had brought with him the night he’d attacked her in her apartment. The Columbian raked his brown eyes over her body. “Welcome back to Virginia.”

  Although he offered his hand, she refused to take it. The last time he’d touched her, he’d held knife to her throat. When she reached the bottom step, Santiago grabbed her arm. “Come, mi querida, Mr. Hunnicutt is anxious to see you.”

  Chapter 13

  Norfolk, Virginia

  3:23 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  CHRISTIAN HUNNICUTT LUNGED from the throne chair, waving Ric’s cell phone. “Santiago has her.” Excitement, triumph and satisfaction pumped through his body as he handed the phone back to Ric. “It’s about fucking time.”

  “Congratulations,” Ric said with a smile, and pocketed the phone. “Your plan worked.”

  “Of course it did.” He looked around the room, ignored the brooding smart brother, then tapped his index finger against his chin. “We won’t be able to leave for at least another hour. We’ll have to make sure the bitch has suitable accommodations.” The throne chair caught his attention. “Yes, she needs to know where she belongs. Vlad,” he called.

  The Russian exited the back room where Mickey had been kept throughout the day. “Sir?”

  “Our guest will be here in about ten minutes. I can’t have her roaming the warehouse. What do we have to restrain her?”

  “There are handcuffs in the pantry,” Ric offered.

  Christian studied the leg of the throne chair. Like on the armrests, intricate carvings had been whittled into the mahogany. When he pictured Rose scraping the metal handcuffs along the wood, he shook his head. “No good. She’ll damage my chair.”

  Ric shrugged. “There’s plenty of duct tape.”

  He cracked a smile. “As Mickey certainly knows,” he said, and thought about all of the silver tape wrapped around the dumb brother’s head and covering what was left of his eye. “But the adhesive might ruin the finish on my chair.”

  “Does she have to be attached to your throne?” Harrison asked. “You have plenty of furniture in this place. Or why not lock her in one of the other rooms?”

  He took a few steps and then sat on the edge of the leather sofa’s armrest next to Harrison. “Do you have any idea the amount of planning that had gone in to making today happen? Or how many years I’ve been searching for her?”

  Harrison’s bangs fell into his eyes when he shook his head.

  “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  He crossed his legs at the ankle. “You should be. But because I’m feeling…generous, I’ll share something with you. Rose has been a thorn in my side from the day I’d met her.” As Ric chuckled, Christian glanced to Harrison and smiled. “Pun intended.”

  “I got it,” Harrison said, straight faced.

  “Not in the joking mood? Understandable. It’s not every day that you kill hundreds of innocent people and carve up your brother.” He sighed. “You’ll get over it. Now, where was I? Yes, the thorn in my side… Rose belongs to me. Now she needs to know her place.” He thumbed toward the throne chair. “I want her kneeling at my feet.”

  “Without damaging your chair.”

  “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

  Harrison’s eyes widened. “No, just pointing out a fact.”

  “That’s good. I won’t tolerate mockery.” He shifted he gaze to Ric. “Isn’t that right?”

  The sadist nodded. “Mockery could lead to an ugly death.”

  “Sir,” Vlad said as he entered the room carrying a spool of twine. “I found this in utility closet.”

  He stood and took the spool. “Excellent. This will work for now. Ric, I’d still like those handcuffs. We’ll use them on her when we transport her back to the house. The duct tape, too.” Once it had grown dark, he planned to leave the warehouse behind and take her to his plantation. They would use Ric’s cottage and take the old tunnel leading to the bitch’s new home. “If I recall, she’s a screamer, and I don’t need the servants hearing her nonsense.”

  He pushed off the edge of the sofa. The energy buzzing through him made it difficult to stay still. “We should have champagne for our guest. I’m sure after her trip she’s probably hungry, too.” He looked to the Russian. The man couldn’t cook worth shit. “Ric, prepare refreshments for her arrival.”

  Ric’s smile fell and he shifted his gaze to Vlad. “Yes, sir,” he said, his tone holding a hint of grievance. The sadist had been with him as long as Santiago had. And while the man had never gone against him and had proven time and again to be a worthy confidant—enough that he’d made him the COO of his company—Ric occasionally needed to be reminded of his place. Like Vlad and Santiago, like all of his servants, Ric was still hired help.

  “Looks like your latest bombing finally made the news,” Harrison said.

  He turned toward the TV and caught the caption running below the President’s White House press conference. Horse trainer Joe Cline and jockey Frank Russell for the prize winning horse, Wild Rose, died in a fire at Woodland Horse Farm, Peoria, Illinois.

  “Shit. Ric, stop what you’re doing and Google Wild Rose again. It looks like Harrison’s explosion took out everyone but that damned horse.” When he caught Harrison looking at him, he added, “That horse was slated to win the Kentucky Derby last year. It cost me five hundred grand.”

  “You’re a billionaire.”

  “If you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t like losing.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Ric said as he left the kitchen and approached. “The horse survived.”

  “Damn it,” he said, staring at the muted TV. Then he chuckled.

  “Have you come up with another way to destroy the horse?” Ric asked.

  He shook his head. “I was just thinking… The President was supposed to give his press conference from the White House Rose Garden.”

  “It was moved inside due to the threat of rain,” Ric said.

  “Doubtful. I have a feeling the FBI has definitely made the Rose Wood connection.” He laughed and sat in his throne chair. “Too bad the Woodworkers Union wasn’t in Washington. Picture it. The President giving a speech from the Rose Garden to the Woodworkers Union. Now that explosion would have made a statement.”

  Ric laughed, too. “Not that you haven’t already.”

  “True.” He nodded, then checked his watch. “She’ll be along any mi
nute. Ric, get back to those refreshments. Vlad, make sure Mickey can’t make any noise. I want him to be a surprise. Harrison, prepare to pull the trigger one more time. Rose needs to be taught a valuable lesson.”

  No one runs from him.

  *

  Wilshire District, Bloomington, Indiana

  2:36 p.m. Central Daylight Saving Time

  “Come on and move,” Vince bitched and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He’d finished making deliveries in the Beachmore business district and was trying his best to reach the heart of Wilshire Park. Although Bloomington’s Wilshire Park was known for its fancy, upper class neighborhoods, like Rosewood Estates, the area also had a small business district, which was near the hospital he needed to be at in—he checked the clock—less than twenty-five minutes. He didn’t know if an accident or construction was what had held up the traffic, all he knew was that he was ten minutes away from the hospital.

  As the truck idled, he checked the company tablet. His next delivery was supposed to be in Rosewood Estates, which made logistical sense. The expensive neighborhood was located at the edge of Wilshire Park. Because there was no way he would have time to make all the necessary deliveries in Rosewood, he’d already driven past the turn he’d take into the neighborhood. He scrolled through the tablet and viewed the rest of his route. If the news was good, he could be in and out of the ultrasound in thirty minutes. If it wasn’t—

  Traffic started to move. He set the tablet in the center console and thought about how he’d handle the rest of his route, rather than the results of the ultrasound. He wanted to remain positive for Anna, even if deep down he was scared shitless. The baby had to be healthy. When they’d found out they were pregnant with Benny, they’d been hoping for a girl. Neither he nor Anna would change how Benny had turned out, but he knew Anna had always wanted a daughter. He had, too. After Anna found out she was pregnant again, he’d secretly hoped for a little girl. When they discovered they were having a girl, he’d instantly pictured taking her to Daddy/Daughter dances and imagined her in a wedding dress as she kissed his cheek and he gave her away to her new husband. Then they’d found out about the cysts.