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

by Kristine Mason

  “You mean when you rape me.”

  Harrison’s hands shook with rage. He knew in his gut Rose would suffer worse tortures than he and Mickey combined. He just hoped her death would be swifter than his and Mickey’s.

  “Rape is such an ugly word,” Hunnicutt said, his tone censuring. “I’m not a rapist. I’m a man who gets what he wants.”

  “You are a rapist,” she taunted. “A rapist and a mass murderer.”

  The loud smack that followed made Harrison’s face hurt. He turned just as Rose’s head tilted back, a red handprint already forming on her cheek. Her free hand flew to her face as more tears filled her eyes.

  “Any other names you’d like to call me?” Hunnicutt asked. She didn’t say anything and, instead, wept softly. “Good. Harrison, make it quick. Show Rose your brother’s stomach.”

  Harrison’s gut seized with a cramp. His throat tightened with the urge to cry alongside Rose. He looked to Mickey’s face and gingerly touched his brother’s head. Leaning closer, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Mick.” He blinked several times to stop the tears from coming. “I promise. Not that much longer.” Even though his brother had yet to respond and had showed no sign of consciousness, Harrison hoped he could hear him and forgive him.

  He looked over Mickey’s head. Vlad kept his eyes forward, but clenched his jaw tight. Maybe the Russian prick felt something after all. Not that it mattered. Vlad had his own agenda and it didn’t include him or Mickey.

  Not wanting to deal with an angry, impatient Hunnicutt, Harrison reached for the hem of Mickey’s t-shirt. Wet blood instantly coated his fingertips. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, tried his best to keep his emotions together and slowly tugged the shirt.

  The cotton had stuck to Mickey’s wounds. As much as he didn’t want to hurt his brother, he knew how to make this as swift and painless as possible. “Brace yourself,” he said to Mickey, then whipped the t-shirt up his body.

  Mickey cried out and shot his head back. His good eye flew open. Wild with pain and accusation, he shifted his gaze around the room until it settled on Harrison. Breathing hard, his face twisting with agony, Mickey stared at him. “Got you into this,” he slurred, his eye rolling back before closing. “Never…meant…love you, bro.”

  “Touching,” Hunnicutt said with heavy sarcasm. “You make a better door than a window. Move so Rose can see the note you wrote on my behalf.”

  No longer fighting the tears, Harrison let them bathe his face. Keeping his focus on Mickey’s face, he held the shirt high and took a step to the side.

  As Rose cried for his brother, he did, too. And instead of seeing the anguish contorting Mickey’s bloodied face or the damned duct tape around his eye, he saw the smiling, chubby kid his brother had once been. Dozens of memories hit him. Making forts out of blankets in the room they’d shared, exploring the woods in the local park, playing football and basketball, shared birthday parties…hiding and holding each other while one of their mom’s latest live ins used her as a punching bag.

  He cried for the boy who’d never had a chance. For all the plans they’d made and would never accomplish. He cried for his twin—his other half.

  “What do you think, Rose?” Hunnicutt asked. “Personally, I’m rather fond of this particular message. It’s so much more personal than the others.”

  “You’re sick,” she cried, her voice filled with overwhelming grief and disgust. “He needs a hospital. He needs—”

  “To die,” Hunnicutt finished. “Ric, Santiago, take Mickey into the warehouse and shoot him. Put the body in the back of Santiago’s car. He and Vlad can dispose of it when we’re finished here.”

  While Rose protested, Harrison met his brother’s gaze. Instead of fear, his eye held relief. Mickey had given up on life. And in that instant, all thoughts of wanting to be put out of his misery alongside his brother, fled. The need to live, to carry on and do something good and right, outweighed the urge to want to curl up and die. Revenge for Mickey, for Rose, for all of the people Hunnicutt had murdered revived him and had become just as important as breathing.

  “Stay out of trouble,” Mickey said, gasping for air. “You are the smart one. Don’t be me. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t.” But he would. He’d fight the fucking billionaire and celebrate killing him. “I…I don’t know what to say.” Tears trailed down his cheeks. This would be the last time he saw his brother alive. The finality of the moment…how could he come up with the right words?

  A small, half smile tilted the corner of Mickey’s mouth. “Remember Samantha Green?”

  Harrison used his shoulder to wipe the tears from the side of his face and gently tugged the stained t-shirt over Mickey’s body. “The prettiest girl we’ve ever seen,” he said, completing the lame rhyme they’d come up with in junior high.

  “I lied to you,” Mickey said, his breath catching when Santiago grabbed his arm. “She did like you best. Everyone did. I’ve been jealous of you our whole lives. But I loved you more than anyone.”

  “Enough,” Hunnicutt shouted. “You haven’t strung together two words all day and now you won’t shut the fuck up. Get Mickey out of here. Rose and I want to be alone.”

  Harrison’s heart raced and he quickly took Mickey’s hand. “I love you, Mick,” he said on a sob. “I…how am I going to do this alone?”

  Mickey’s strength surprised him when he gripped his hand back. “You never needed me. I was the one who needed you.” He hung on tight, even when Santiago was pulling him backward. “Remember that and the good times.”

  Mickey’s hand finally slipped from his. Harrison kept his gaze locked on his brother’s as Santiago dragged Mickey from the room and through the kitchen. Ric held the door open for Santiago. After the Columbian hauled Mickey through the door, Ric sent Harrison a ruthless smile and then followed Santiago.

  His heart and his head ached. In a matter of minutes, his twin brother would be dead and Rose would be raped. Raw hatred hardened his aching heart. He fisted his hands and glanced at Vlad. The Russian hadn’t moved and continued to keep his gaze locked on the wall.

  “Harrison, return to the sofa,” Hunnicutt said. “Now.”

  He leaned forward. “Fuck you,” he whispered to Vlad.

  The Russian blinked, but remained still. Harrison didn’t look at Hunnicutt as he moved to the sofa, but he did glance at Rose. The sadness in her eyes gave him no solace. The tears she spent on him and Mickey weren’t worth her effort. For what he suspected Hunnicutt would do to her, they were better saved for herself.

  *

  “There’s another door here,” Dante said as he moved across the utility closet.

  As soon as Jake had heard Hunnicutt tell Ric and Santiago to execute Mickey in the warehouse, they’d snuck inside the closet. He wasn’t sure who Mickey was, or where he fit into Hunnicutt’s plans, but he had a brother named Harrison.

  Dante cracked the door open and peered outside. “Don’t see them.”

  “Including Hunnicutt, there were six men in the room,” Jake whispered.

  “Three of them are in the warehouse.”

  “I say we rush them. You go after Ric and Santiago and I’ll go—”

  “No. We stand down and follow orders.”

  “They’re going to kill that man.” The darkened utility closet made it difficult to see Dante’s reaction. But the SEAL had to realize they couldn’t, in good conscience, let a man die without doing a thing to try and stop it. “We have to do something.”

  Dante released a sigh, then swore. “Fine. I’ll follow—”

  “Wait.” Jake’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and read the text from Rachel. “Yes,” he hissed. “Her spider thing worked. She’s got a lock on the signal sent to the last detonator. We have our evidence.”

  Dante took the phone from him, the glow from the screen illuminating his face. “She also said to wait for the Feds. They’ll be here in fifteen.”

  “
The guy they plan to execute won’t be.”

  Dante handed the phone over. “I’ll go after them.” He moved toward the door leading to the unfinished part of the warehouse’s third floor. “Promise you won’t go in there until we’ve been given the word.”

  “You got it,” Jake lied. He’d stand down and obey orders, but if Hunnicutt touched Naomi one more time, all bets were off. When he’d heard the smack Hunnicutt had delivered to Naomi’s face, Dante practically had to put him in a chokehold to keep him from storming into the room. The threat of rape—Hunnicutt would never have the opportunity to made good on his promises. Even if the FBI wasn’t on its way, he’d never allow Hunnicutt the chance to touch her. No amount of evidence was worth letting a man force himself on a woman. Especially his woman.

  “You’re full of shit,” Dante said, opening the door wider. He raised his gun. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll call if Hunnicutt’s men come up the stairwell.”

  Once Dante slipped from the closet, Jake quickly sent Rachel a text, telling her their location. He then opened the opposite door and went back to his earlier post.

  “Would you stop your bloody crying,” Hunnicutt roared. “You’re an ugly mess. Vlad, bring Rose some tissues.”

  “And you’re a bastard,” she shouted back.

  “I told you I don’t like being called names. Do you need another reminder?”

  Jake tightened his grip on the gun and braced himself for the sound of another blow. Which was ridiculous. There was no reason he shouldn’t go in there and put an end to Hunnicutt’s bullshit. Deciding he’d do just that, he moved the door slightly, ready to enter.

  “No,” she said. “But I’d like to know why.”

  “Why Mickey had to die? You have eyes, you saw the man. I did the humane thing.”

  “You don’t know how to be humane,” she said, her voice growing stronger. “You’ve killed hundreds of people, you murdered my family—I want to know why. It’s been eight years, why can’t you leave me the hell alone?”

  “If you’d stayed with me, none of that would have happened. Your parents could be enjoying retirement. Your brother, his career with the FBI.” Hunnicutt chuckled. “As for today? The burden is on you. Maybe next time you’ll reconsider running from me, not that I’ll allow that to happen.”

  “You still haven’t given me a reason. You’re married now and have children. You might be ugly on the inside, but you’re not on the outside. With your wealth, you could have any woman.”

  “But I don’t want any woman. I want you.”

  “Why?” she screamed, the piercing sound sending a chill through Jake, but he remained still. Naomi needed answers and once the FBI blew into the warehouse, she likely wouldn’t have them.

  “Before you married your wife, I saw pictures of you in magazines with gorgeous models hanging all over you,” Naomi continued. “Compared to them, I’m nothing. I’m not beautiful. I’m not rich or famous. I’m a nobody. Your need to possess me is—”

  “Necessary. From the moment I saw you waitressing in that shitty club, I wanted you in my bed. And when you came to my table and I saw your eyes… You’re right, you aren’t as beautiful as the others before or after you. But what you possess is what I need to own. I saw it in your eyes, Rose. I saw something that I haven’t seen in my own eyes since I was a child. Unabashed innocence. Your childlike optimism and faith in the world made me realize the cynicism I carried weighed me down. You, Rose, were the one thing that could make me stronger.”

  Jake wasn’t buying any of Hunnicutt’s bullshit, and when Naomi laughed without humor, he assumed she hadn’t either.

  “You find that funny?” Hunnicutt asked, a deadly edge to his tone.

  “I don’t find anything that you’ve done funny at all,” she said. “And I don’t believe a word you’re saying. You talk as if you loved me, when we both know you aren’t capable of loving anyone but yourself. So you wanted to capture my innocence and faith, and do what with it? Bottle it up and on a rainy day drink it in order to reclaim your youth? Ridiculous. Because what you are is a stalker. Plain and simple. I rejected you and your ego couldn’t handle it, so you had to prove a point. Christian Hunnicutt always gets what he wants, when he wants it.”

  Jake had never been more proud of Naomi. While he’d prefer if she didn’t stand up to the man and that he could simply waltz in and put a bullet in Hunnicutt’s head, he loved that she spoke her mind and refused to allow the bastard to bully her. He also agreed with her and thought back to what Dante had said about the stalking case he’d worked. Dante had used the term, rejected and resentful stalker. Add on obsessed, and they had Hunnicutt.

  “Stalker.” Hunnicutt released a dangerous chuckle. “Really, Rose. Now that is ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You attacked me in my house and told me if I couldn’t have you, no one could. Remember that? Remember how Santiago held a knife to my throat?”

  Hunnicutt laughed. “I do recall that night. But not as much as the one you spent with Ric and I. Remember, Rose?”

  Hunnicutt and Ric? She’d already endured so much, a part of him didn’t want to hear anymore. The other part wanted to know in order to decide how much pain he’d inflict on the men before he killed them.

  “Let me refresh your memory,” Hunnicutt continued. “I took away your ability to have a child and a future with any other man. I branded you as mine. I sometimes look back on that night and wonder if you grieve for the child that could have been, for the children you’ll never have. Do you, Rose? Do you grieve and when you do, do you think of me?”

  “When I think of you, I feel sick inside,” she said, her voice shaking. “That’s what you are. A sickness. I pity your wife and children. At least the child you ripped from my womb will never be tainted by you.”

  If Jake hadn’t been leaning against the doorjamb, he might have staggered back.

  The day before I found out my brother was murdered, I’d gotten test results back from my gynecologist…I can’t have children.

  He hadn’t asked why. The jet had been about to land and he’d wanted to make sure she knew he hadn’t cared that they’d have a childless future, that all he cared about was being with her. He focused on the hatred and need for revenge coursing through him. He’d grieve for the wonderful mother Naomi could have been later. Right now, he had to fight from storming into the room, unsheathing his knife and giving Hunnicutt his version of a vasectomy.

  “Your words crush me, Rose,” Hunnicutt said with a mocking laugh. “Despite your attempts to offend me, I find myself…aroused. Vlad, come untie Rose from my chair. We need—”

  A phone rang. Jake froze and held his breath.

  “Leave Rose tied and duct tape her mouth. I want no interruptions. Tape Harrison’s mouth, too.”

  Footsteps fell across the floor and Jake slunk away from the door. He checked the time. Five minutes had passed since Rachel’s text. The Feds should be along soon. But if Hunnicutt’s call was short, and he tried to lay his hands on Naomi, Jake refused to obey orders.

  There was no way in hell the bastard would ever touch her again.

  *

  “Liliana, this is the second time you’ve called,” Christian said to his pain-in-the-ass wife. “Is there a reason you keep bothering me?” He hadn’t wanted to take her call, but would rather deal with her now, than be interrupted later when he was with Rose.

  “Christian,” Liliana began, her tone quiet, worried. “The FBI is here at the hotel.”

  Tensing, he moved toward his office and out of earshot of Harrison and Rose. He’d expected her call to be about the latest bombing, or for her to request an extension to her spending limit. He hadn’t expected this. “I’m sure they’re there because I’ve not only had a plane targeted, but now one of my trucks. Correct?” They couldn’t know about his connection. He’d been too careful.

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “You haven’t spoken to them?”

  “No. The front desk
just called and said they’re on the way up to my suite.” She let out a small sigh. “I’m sorry I bothered you. You’re probably right. Their visit is likely a formality. I’m sure they’ve done the same for you.”

  But they hadn’t. Christian hadn’t spoken with the Director of the FBI since after he’d bombed his own plane. If the FBI was concerned about the safety of his wife and children, they’d most certainly be concerned about him. After all, he owned the damned company.

  “I spoke with Martin earlier today,” he said, and glanced out the office door to where Harrison sat on the sofa, his mouth duct taped, his eyes narrowed and filled with disdain. Christian’s mind worked quickly. Maybe the smart brother was smarter than he’d thought. Was it possible Harrison had compromised the signals he’d been sending to the detonators? He shifted his gaze to Rose. Or could the little bitch be working with the Feds?

  “They’re here,” Liliana gasped. “Christian, this is just awful. The kids…I’m worried. We haven’t left the suite since the bombing in Denver. I don’t want them to know what’s happening. They might see these agents and be scared.”

  He didn’t have time for her whining. Since he and Martin were close friends, he’d expect the FBI to contact him before his wife. Because they hadn’t, and because he couldn’t be sure what this meant, he’d have to move to Plan B.

  “Use your head. If you’re so worried, have the nannies take the kids either out of the suite or into another room.”

  “Okay, I will,” she said. “I…are you okay? Are you in a safe place?”

  “Liliana, are you actually concerned about me?” he asked, amused. His wife hated him, and rightfully so. “Never mind. I don’t care. But, if you must know, I’m at my warehouse apartment. Today has been trying and I need privacy.”

  “Are Ric and your bodyguards with you?”

  At that moment, Ric and Santiago entered through the door leading from the part of the warehouse that hadn’t been renovated, and into the kitchen.

  “Yes, for now.” He moved away from the office. “Attend to the agents. I have to go.” After ending the call, he smiled. “Well, is it done?”