by Rie Warren
“It’s always war with you, Jade.”
No fucking doubt.
“I want my weapons back, Walker.”
I contemplated her request for another thirty seconds or so then squatted down by the pile of gleaming metal—guns, blades, knuckle dusters, throwing stars, weren’t we a creative group?
I started passing out the weaponry to its various owners, but Justice curled his lip. “You’re not seriously letting her walk around packing heat, are you?”
“Way I see it, it’s the four of us guys against one and a half, if we’re including Madge. You scared, Jus?” I asked.
I thought I saw steam pouring out of Madge’s ears at my little dig—she definitely wasn’t getting my spare gun this time.
“I’m not the one who just made a deal with the devil.” Justice shoved his Heckler & Koch into a chest holster and sat on one of the jumpseats with his big legs spread and his big boots planted on the floor.
“She-devil.” A grin manifested on my lips.
And just like that, Jade hissed. But not before she systematically armed herself . . . to the eyeballs. Minus the RPG that hadn’t made it off the boat.
Not long later, Storm set us down at an abandoned airfield outside of Baalbek, Lebanon.
A stone-cold February night and not a soul in sight. And definitely no shiny private jet fueled up and ready to fly. The place was empty as a ghost town except for a line of sadly tilting corrugated metal hangars on one side of the airstrip.
“How the hell are we supposed to hitch a ride from this place?” Hopping from the helicopter onto weed-cracked tarmac, I squinted at Storm.
“Follow me.”
We all carried heavy packs, silently casing the area for hidden tangos, but none appeared as Storm took us to the farthest hangar. He rolled back one side, Justice the other, and motherfucking voilà.
A shiny private jet, fueled up and ready to fly.
“How in the hell?” I scratched the side of my nose.
“Every contingency covered, Tonto.”
“There better be champagne and caviar on board.” Justice barreled ahead full bore.
Bane tackled him to the concrete. “This isn’t Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, dickhead.”
Storm walked around them. “More like lifestyles of the risky and dangerous.”
The Lear Jet stood, pristine and perfect. After we boarded one by one, I splatted into a cushy seat, kicked out my feet, and briefly considered cuffing Madge’s and Jade’s wrists together before I nodded off.
The engines ramping up was a primo fucking lullaby.
Jade’s incessant pacing up and down the small aisle was not.
And her mumbling.
Fucking hell.
I needed some shut-eye.
I finally reached out, latching onto her wrist. I yanked her into the seat beside me.
“Do you ever shut up, woman?”
“I still have a knife in my boot, you know? Works quite well if I want to cut your sodding tongue out.”
I harrumphed and rolled to my other side.
She grabbed my shoulder and hauled me bodily around. “How can you sleep right now?”
“Baby, I haven’t caught a wink in over thirty-six hours.”
“So? That’s normal for people like us. Besides, I need to know what you plan—”
I slit my eyes at her. “If you don’t stow that mouth of yours, I’m gonna have to kiss it again.”
She slouched into her seat, silently fuming.
I quietly chuckled.
Ahhh. Blessed silence.
Sleep.
Some hours later, I prowled to the cockpit and took the co-pilot’s seat.
“Nice of you to join me. I’ve only been circling the atmosphere for the past two hours.” Unruly black hair shoved behind his ears, Storm tapped an unlit cigarette on the lit-up control panel.
“So about that STD . . .”
“Fuck off already and give me a destination.”
“Someplace safe.” I peeked through the windows. “Where are we anyway?”
“Scandinavia. Why? You got a location in mind so I can drop down?”
“Something like that.”
Six
Undisclosed Location, United States
“HEY, KEMOSABE,” I SPOKE into my burner phone.
“Walker,” Hunter replied, and I could literally hear him exhaling through his nostrils in exasperation.
“I need a favor.”
“Not sure I wanna know.” I bet he was clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth.
“Great.” I kept talking. “So, I need a place to stay for a few days, off the grid.”
He growled. “Where exactly are you right now?”
“On your doorstep.” I gave Jade the thumbs up as I pocketed my phone.
Funny. She looked just about as unimpressed as Hunter had sounded.
Storm, Bane, and Justice had done the drop-and-ditch like they couldn’t wait to get rid of us. Too bad their hands were fucking dirty, too.
Hunter whipped open the door, scowling, natch. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“Nice to see you, my friend.” I clapped him on the shoulder, bracing myself just in case he decided to throw a punch.
He quickly shut the door, herding us farther back on the front porch of his sprawling house in the woods of Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina.
“Not nice to see you,” he bit out.
“C’mon. This is so much better than the last time I showed up. Remember me and you with the pump action rifle?” I held up my hands. “Look. No firearms. See? I’m growing as a person.”
He barely snorted before turning his gold-tinted eyes to Jade and Majedah. “And what, pray tell, are these?”
“Hostages?” After fishing in my pocket for cigs and a lighter, I inhaled the smoke and blew it out. “You may recall her eminence, Majedah Chehab, from the nightly news and society page shit. And of course you remember the unforgettable Jade Huntington.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Hunter glared at the three of us.
He nodded curtly at the women and said through tight-lips, “Jade.”
“Hunter. Not a pleasure. As always.”
I opened my mouth to explain, but Hunter cut me off.
“Not a fucking word. You got three days. You can stay at Jessica’s empty house.”
“Speaking of JB, she inside?”
“Yup.” He raised one eyebrow, blocking the doorway with his body.
“Mind if I come in and say hi to the missus?”
“Yup. I mind.”
“Damn. You’re really not taking any chances with this civvy lifestyle thing, huh?” I crushed my cigarette underfoot then tossed it behind the bushes lining the front porch.
“Nope, I’m not. So, thanks, Tonto, for leading the enemy straight to my doorstep.” Once again Hunter pinned Jade with his undeviating stare.
“Who? Her?” I hooked my thumb toward the Ministry specialist. “She’s harmless. A pussycat.”
Jade snarled, a very un-kitten-like sound.
Hmm.
Hunter stepped inside the door with a finger pointed at me. “Meant what I said. You stay put while I get the keys.”
“Is that anyway to treat your ex-partner?”
He ducked his head outside. “You know I’ll save your ass if you need it. But you’re the Lone Ranger this time.”
“Got it. I know you have the wife and the kid and the detective gig. Not here to rock your boat.”
Hunter handed me the keys. “Don’t blow up her house. We still have to put it on the market.”
“Yes, sir.” I smirked. Then I held out my hand. “Thanks, Ghost. I mean it. Buy you a drink sometime.”
“Make that sometime tonight. At Retribution. Assuming Jade doesn’t slit your throat first.”
Jade returned his evil grin. Great. Saved the woman from certain death, now she had plans to icepick me in the back of the skull. Not a surprise.
We started down the steps,
Hunter calling out, “And don’t touch—or torch—my new Tahoe!”
“No worries. Got a rental.” I jerked my chin toward the SUV that looked similar enough to his.
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “You mean you stole it.”
“Same thing.” I shrugged. “These fingers work way better than Hertz.”
“Only in your world.”
“And what a great fucking place it is to be.”
I’d been to JB’s house once or twice before so navigating through the Mt. Pleasant streets was a fucking cakewalk after the bullshit in Beirut. Last time I’d been here had been the night Vincent Valderas of the former Tampa Bay Outlaws had kidnapped JB right after Thanksgiving.
That was nearly four months ago, but the cheery yellow house hadn’t changed a bit, except now shoots of flowers broke through the grass, preparing for the early appearance of spring in the south.
We grabbed our bags—an emergency travel pack each—and I let us into the cottage. Hitting the lights, I didn’t bother giving the grand tour of the dainty and pretty rooms. No doubt Jade would have the premises cased in ten seconds flat.
I picked a bedroom upstairs, returned to find Jade and Madge whispering in the kitchen, and felt in my pocket for my smokes. “I’m going out back to light one up. Either one of you even thinks about fleeing, I’ll hunt you down. And the punishment won’t be pretty.”
“He needs lessons in diplomacy,” Madge commented.
“Be my guest. I find most Americans untrainable.” Jade sneered, and under the overhead kitchen light, her delicate-looking Monroe piercing glimmered.
I rarely ever noticed the little silver ball above the left corner of her mouth, but I appraised it now with a long slow look. The piercing was edgy but, suddenly, distinctly feminine, like a beauty mark.
I tore my gaze away from the lips I’d kissed just once. And once was not enough.
“Native American,” I corrected before heading onto the small back porch.
I lit up and worked on polluting the air. What I wouldn’t give for a nice glass of single malt whisky. Make that a bottle. I leaned against the railing, taking in the sky dotted with glowing pinpricks of stars.
Mid-February in South Carolina—perfect for a run on my Indian Scout. I’d only bought and restored the bike for the tongue-in-cheek of it, but damn if it wasn’t a motorcycle to die for. I hadn’t had my legs wrapped around that sweet bitch—or any sweet bitch—for months. The sleek black 1949 Scout, a headturner on the road, was stored in the garage on the property I owned, but rarely visited, deep in the Northwest.
“Suburbia Central, United States, Walker?” Jade joined me outside.
Talk about buzz kill. But not really. Somehow thoughts about Jade had begun to invade my consciousness over the years, replacing other memories of a simpler life when I’d been a hell of a lot younger.
Jade stole my fucking breath. God, the woman was sexy. We’d never been in close quarters long term before—because then one of us would have no recourse but to kill the other one, just because. T-Zone and the Special War Ministry of the UK weren’t natural enemies. But more often than not Jade’s and my missions turned out to be in direct opposition.
Months of cagey animosity had bred between us.
But whatever.
We were here now, and Jade was stunning.
The long black hair cascading to her ass. Her ass that looked sleek and taut. The curve of her hips, the indent of her waist, and a nice pair of tits she couldn’t hide whether she wore desert camo or full black body armor.
Damn but I’d like to see her in a dress.
Her mouth with the tiny silver piercing that drew my attention again. I wanted to wrap my lips around it then move lower and dip my tongue inside her mouth . . .
Who didn’t want to fuck their very own assassin?
Hmmm. Maybe I had a death wish after all.
I turned back to stargazing and smoking instead of staring and drooling. “Not my usual choice of hideouts.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Next thing I know you’ll be doing a Hunter and getting married, having kids, settling down.” She shuddered.
She was different than . . .
Well, she was different.
Maybe I’d worn my grief for too long. Pining for what was lost meant I didn’t really have to feel again. Because feeling made you sloppy. Got you hurt.
I shook my head to clear it of thoughts I didn’t want clouding my perception.
“What can I do you for?” I asked.
“Care to tell me what you’re planning yet?”
“No. Next question.”
“You are not in charge of this operation! Majedah is under my guard.” Jade fired up beside me.
I chuckled. “Doesn’t look that way. I’m the one who got us out of the danger zone and to a safe house.”
“You’re a bastard and a pig.” She popped me in the chest with her fist, but at least it wasn’t her Beretta.
“I feel like we’ve done this dance before, Jade.” I stomped on my cig butt and kicked it away. “What were your orders for her.”
“Deliver her to the Ministry, alive.”
“And how do you know their intentions are honorable?” Tilting her chin higher, I leaned down with my mouth brushing her cheek.
Jade’s breath sped across my ear—fast and hard. “The alive part. Everyone else, including you, wants her dead.”
“What do you think they’ll do once they have her? Hmm, Jade?” I framed my hands around her face, taking in the exotic features. “What if they just want to pump her for information before they bodybag her?”
“I trust my instincts.” Her eyes dilated to dark green depths, her body shifting closer to mine.
“What do your instincts tell you about me?”
She moistened her lips, her pink tongue rolling over the deep, natural red. “Run in the other direction.”
Hitching my hard arm around her waist, I dragged her to me. “You’re not running now.”
“Is that so?” she whispered, for once not trying to break free.
“Yeah.”
Something dangerous was brewing between Jade and me. Maybe even more dangerous than this mission we’d embarked on to keep Madge safe. A fire, kindling higher. We could either burn out or flame brighter, together.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because I ordered food, and I’ve been listening to your stomach growl for the past five minutes.” My hand slid down over her rear, and I squeezed before she jumped back.
“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re up against, arsehole.”
“Not a chance. I’m sleeping with a knife under my pillow.”
“Good idea.”
I opened the door and ushered her inside. “After you.”
I’d been right about the need for nourishment. As soon as I paid the delivery dude, Jade attacked the paper bags, nearly juggling plates from the cupboard and silverware from the drawers. She scooped, ladled, dished up, and we sat on the floor in the living room wolfing it down.
Funny. I’d found two things two shut her up fast. Kissing her and feeding her. Doing one and watching the other were equally enjoyable. She attacked all things with a healthy, lusty appetite. It made me wonder what else she lusted after.
Majedah ate in a much more refined manner, curiously sniffing and inspecting before each bite. “What is thees?”
Her accent came out at odd times, usually she spoke with a more rarified, cultured eloquence.
“Indian take out. Not Indian like me, you know, but India. Food. Curry, biryiani, good stuff.” I shoveled in another forkful and swallowed after two chews. “Thought it’d make you feel more at home.”
“I’m Lebanese.”
“We’re in South Carolina. This was the closest I could get.” I reclined on my elbow, scooping up the fiery saffron juices with a piece of naan bread. “Greasy, fatty, meaty. Eat it.”
With the plates scraped clean, Jade patted her
belly. “What I wouldn’t give for a—”
“Drink.” I produced a bottle of Highland Park whisky and three glasses I set on the coffee table between us.
Jade tilted her head, smiling. “I hate you a little less now, Walker.”
I poured out the alcohol, quickly downing mine. “Keep that thought, because I’m about to lock you up for a few hours.”
“What?” Jade screeched, mid-drink.
“But you can keep the bottle.”
“You are a dead man.”
Don’t I know it, baby.
Seven
Divine Retribution
YEAH. I LOCKED THEM up inside the guest room at JB’s cute suburbanite house. Handcuffed them on the floor side-by-side to a pair of old-fashioned, heavy-framed bedsteads.
What? I gave them a pee break first. And the bottle of whisky. And one free hand each to drink from it. Not like they were hurting.
After disarming Jade once again, and removing the wicked-looking chopstick things from Madge’s hair that could easily be used as picklocks, I stood and inspected my handiwork. Jade screeched some more, and Madge flung her very own, very colorful insults in Arabic.
“Play nice now,” I said before quitting the room.
“Retribution will be yours, Walker!” Jade yelled.
“Funny. That’s exactly where I’m headed.”
Time to walk the line with Hunter. Didn’t know what I had to prove. I’d saved his cojones more times than he had mine. Just because he’d settled down in Straightville, USA didn’t mean I had to follow in his footsteps.
He’d made a clean break.
The only thing I’d escaped was my past, but it kept holding onto me.
There was a reason I avoided American soil as a rule and rarely headed out west to the plains, and the mountains, the house I’d built, and the one I’d deserted.
I mainlined danger for breakfast, and there was no room in my life for falling in love, settling down, or leaving the life.
Retribution MC compound looked about the same when I drove up to the parking lot. Lots of Harleys. Lots of honeys. Tattoos, booze, and the new probie.
I slipped up to the bar, unannounced, but Coletrane—Hunter’s buddy—hit me with a beer and a shot.
