Smoke and Shadows (25 page)

Marissa estimated her chances. It didn’t look good. She could probably scream. Or not. She hauled back and kicked Fletcher in the groin and the man dropped like a ton of bricks. She ran past him, but he managed to grab her foot. She kept her balance, and was about to kick him in the face, when Tyrell tackled her to the floor. Marissa’s scream was muffled when Tyrell covered her mouth with his hand.
 

She bit him and he howled in anger. Tyrell was yanked off her, and she was dragged up by Fletcher who took the opportunity to backhand her across the face. She felt her whole body spin around as she sank to her knees. Her nose was bleeding.
 

“What the hell’s going on here?” A third voice bellowed through the melee of heavy-breathing angry males.

Marissa glanced at the newcomer.
 

Owen Reed.

“I can’t believe you clowns. We have an op cooking, and you two are dicking around,” Reed said angrily. He turned his attention to Marissa. “Get out of here.”

Thankful for the reprieve, Marissa quickly got to her feet to move past the men. Reed’s hand shot out and stopped her, his eyes narrowing.

“What’s wrong with your nose?” he demanded.

Marissa’s hand flew to cover the body part in question. “I think Garett broke it.”

“No,” Reed said grimly. He reached for her face and yanked the prosthetic off her. Marissa flinched as the adhesive took some skin with it.

Oh, shit.

The other two men gasped in surprise as Reed shouted in fury, “Who the fuck are you?”

Marissa was dumped into the backseat of a pickup truck, hog-tied and gagged. From the turns and sounds along the way, she could tell they were heading back to Fletcher's house. Once they arrived, Fletcher hauled her out and tossed her over his shoulder. Marissa heard other voices, possibly Logan, but she wasn’t sure.
 

Marissa watched them carefully move a couple of crates to the waiting truck.
 

The Guardians were going to be too late. The raid wasn’t scheduled until 7:00 p.m. to take advantage of the best cover of night. Her and her prosthetic nose had put Reed and his men on high alert. She fucked up.

Reed approached her, a mixture of contempt and regret on his face. “I don’t know how you found us. I don’t have time to torture the information out of you, and I don’t want to bring you with me just in case you have a damned tracker on you. Such a waste. You should’ve just let DC rot, Ms. Cole.” He smiled derisively. “I’m afraid I have to leave you with Fletcher and Tyrell after all.”

He looked at the two men in question. “Get rid of her. Make it quick. I’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous.”

She made a noise through her gag. Reed’s mouth quirked up. He pulled the gag off her.

“You can’t even do your own dirty work. Instead, you’d let these two limp dicks do it for you,” Marissa taunted him. She was going to die, might as well do it spitting like a hellcat.
 

Reed yanked her hair to tilt her chin up. With his other hand he held the muzzle of a gun to her head. “It’s too easy to simply blow your head off. I’ve decided to have these two fuck with you. But make no mistake that I don’t have the guts to kill you.” He lowered the gun and leaned in closer. “Who do you think shot Maia Pierce?”

*****

Two black Ford Explorers snaked their way through I-64. They were half an hour out from Chesapeake, WV. Viktor was in the lead car with Manning and Edmunds. Olsen and Connelly were in the second car.
 

Viktor was still simmering from the bureaucratic clusterfuck in Washington DC. More than a week wasted, his attention pulled in all directions by all the alphabet agencies. He hadn’t been able to keep an eye on what was going on in the hunt for the SK nerve gas. He hadn’t spoken to Marissa in four days, and though Tim assured him that she was communicating regularly, he missed her. That he was a total ass when she left only roiled his gut with unease.
 

He was strapping on his Kevlar vest when his phone rang. Nathan Stark was currently staking out Fletcher’s residence.

“What’s your ETA?” Nathan’s voice was so tense, Viktor felt himself stiffen.

“Thirty minutes.”

“Fuck.”

The back of Viktor’s neck prickled.

“What’s going on, Stark?”

Silence for a beat, and then, “They have Marissa.”

“What do you mean?”
 

“Her cover’s blown,” Nathan bit out. A painful pressure started to form in Viktor’s chest, radiating out to his extremities. “They have her bound and gagged. They took her inside the outhouse.”

“Fuck,” Viktor whispered. “How long ago—”

“They’re loading crates into the truck. What do you want me to do?”

“How many are you up against?”

“I’m counting eight men. I have a feeling they’ll be bugging out soon, Viktor.”

Think, Baran
. Nathan couldn’t go in alone. It would be suicide.

“Follow the truck. Keep me informed if they take Marissa with them so we’ll know how to divvy up,” Viktor said, and hoped to God they wouldn’t kill Marissa.

*****

Fletcher crouched down beside her, running his fingers along her side. He grabbed her hair and hauled her to her knees. Tyrell was behind her cutting her bindings.

“We’re going to have fun with you, Olivia—or whatever your bitch name is.” Fletcher's eyes were manic with lust. Marissa fought the nausea that was forming in her throat. Rape was not how she envisioned her end. At least, she hoped they’d kill her after they’d abused her body. She heard them talking about how they were going to fuck her. Tyrell was anxious to fuck her in the ass. Fletcher had second thoughts about shoving his cock into her mouth for fear of her chomping it off. The man had a brain after all.

They yanked her to her feet and tied her hands in front. They backed her further into a room and lowered a pulley that had a meat hook on the end.

Looping her bindings on the hook, Tyrell rotated some gears so the contraption would lift her off the ground. Her shoulders screamed in agony, but Marissa bit back her cry and held back the tears.

Through the pain she felt hands on her, unbuttoning her jeans and dragging them off her. That was when she screamed and kicked out, and was satisfied when she heard a grunt.
 

“Give it up, woman!” Fletcher shouted as he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around him. He moved forward and buried his face in her heaving breasts, biting her nipple through her shirt and bra.

“Ow!” Marissa yelled and tried to wiggle out of his hold.

“Stop fucking around,” Tyrell groaned behind her. “Let’s fuck this cunt, shoot her, and bury her.”
 

The bigger man nodded as he took a knife to her shirt and slashed it open. Marissa winced when she felt a nick on her skin. He slid the knife under her bra and split it open. Her breasts sprang free, and that was when she panicked. “Don’t touch me, you filthy bastard! Get off me!”

She continued to struggle, but her arms were almost numb. She was worn out and losing hope that she could get out of this.

“What a waste,” Fletcher said in awe as his hands reached out to squeeze her breasts. She felt Tyrell’s face on her ass through the thin cotton of her underwear.
 

“I want to take these off with my teeth,” Tyrell mumbled, his teeth grazing the waistband of her panties.

Fletcher stepped back, and Marissa flinched at the bulge in his pants. He lowered his zipper and pulled out his erection, palming it with a leer. “Let’s get this done. Oh, yeah.”

Tyrell grunted in agreement and stood away from her. Marissa closed her eyes as she heard another zipper lower.
 

Fletcher moved greedily toward her and yanked her legs apart. She screeched at the top of her lungs, determined to go down fighting. She pulled her legs out of her captor’s hands, swung back, and knocked Tyrell out of the way. Then swinging forward, she wrapped her thighs around Fletcher's neck and squeezed hard.
 

Fletcher's eyes widened in shock, his fingers digging into her thighs, trying to release the strangle hold she had on his neck. Tyrell joined in to help his friend, cursing Marissa.

“You bitch! You bitch!”

Just when Marissa felt like the two men were going to break her legs, the doors to the outhouse flew open, and an unholy roar filled the room.

*****

He heard her scream of terror and desperation. It was a cry of desolation Viktor never wanted to hear again in his entire life. When he burst into the room, the sight before him flooded him with a killing rage. Marissa was strung up like a piece of meat, naked and fighting against two men with their pants around their ankles. It didn’t take a second for Viktor to figure out what was going on.

A howl of fury tore from his throat as he charged into the room. Yanking the skinnier guy off Marissa, he threw him clear across the room.
 

“Iz, let go!” Viktor ordered. She was locked in the grips of survival, not realizing rescue was imminent. Her eyes snapped to his and filled with confusion at first and then relief. He hauled the other guy off and slugged him across the face.
 

“Tie up that motherfucker,” Viktor told Manning.
 

He was shaking with the need to beat the shit out of both men until there was nothing left of them to bury, but Marissa needed him.
 

“Viktor—” Marissa’s voice shattered him. He wanted to roar with anger at what was done to her, but at the same time shout in relief because she was safe in his arms.

“I’ve got you, kitten,” Viktor whispered. He eased her bindings off the hook and lowered her to the ground. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her.

“Owen Reed,” Marissa managed to say. She gulped. “He got away.”

“Stark’s on him.”

“I’m sorry, I blew it.” Her head bowed in defeat and shame.

Viktor struggled not to shake her to her senses, to yell at her that he didn’t care that Reed got away and that what was important to him was that she was safe.

“What happened is not your fault,” he said in a controlled voice. He took a long drawn-in breath. There was a violence in him that wanted to break free. His woman. Nearly raped.

“I’m glad you came for me,” Marissa whispered. Her voice had a slight tremor, and her body shuddered as the adrenaline withdrew from her system. He held her for a moment, clenching her to him tightly as if he wouldn’t ever let her go.

His phone buzzed. Viktor led her to sit on a table, and then walked over to pick up her jeans as he answered his phone.

“I lost them!” Nathan rasped into the phone. “They shot out my tire.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Did you—”

“Ms. Cole is fine. We’ll find Reed.”
 

“I see the Explorer,” Nathan replied. Viktor had sent Olsen’s team after Stark.

He cut a glance to the two men being secured by Edmunds and Manning; bloodlust was pulsing furiously within him.

*****

Marissa refused to be taken back to her motel. She sat in the Ford Explorer with Agent Olsen, listening to the blood-chilling screams of men begging for their life. Viktor and Edmunds were still inside the outhouse interrogating Fletcher and Tyrell. Nathan was pacing outside. The rest of the Guardians were keeping an eye around the perimeter.

The four Rottweilers had been tranquilized. Marissa was relieved that none of them had to be put down.

Another nerve-wracking wail rent the air, and Marissa couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed out of the car and determinedly made her way to the outhouse.
 

Manning intercepted her. “You don’t wanna go in there.”

“He can’t do this,” Marissa whispered urgently.

The big man remained adamant. “Viktor has his own brand of justice.”

Twin serrated screams rose to deafening octaves until one faded to nothing and then the other was silenced as well.

Everyone stood frozen outside as footsteps approached the door. Viktor emerged. His knuckles were swollen and he was wiping the blood off an Arc Angel Butterfly knife. Stony-faced and expressionless, he wore the mask of judge, jury, and executioner. Marissa shivered and tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry, she thought she would choke. There were rivers of blood behind the door that swung open and shut.

“We can’t leave them like this,” Marissa said. “Sheila can’t come home to this.”

“Sheila?” Manning asked.

“Fletcher's girlfriend.”

Viktor cursed. “Manning, get the cleaners over here, ASAP.” He walked over to the back of the SUV, took out a medical kit, and doused his hand with hydrogen peroxide.

“You didn’t tape your fists?” Marissa asked quietly.

“Did at first,” Viktor replied, not looking at her, but the muscle tic on his jaw revealed the simmering emotion underneath his calm. “Felt better without them.”

Marissa inhaled sharply. “Viktor—”

“Owen Reed is deploying a chemical weapon in the next few days.”

“Do we know where?”

“Neither Fletcher nor Tyrell knew the location—”

“They could’ve been holding out for a deal—”

“Believe me, I know when they haven’t got anything else to offer—”

“You shouldn’t have—”

“What? Killed them?” Viktor cut her off. His eyes seared into hers, and they were shooting out sparks of fury. “They begged me to end their lives.”

“What?”

“After I made certain they wouldn’t be capable of hurting another woman ever again.”

“Oh, God!” Marissa whispered in horror as the reality of what Viktor had done sank in.

“Know this, Marissa, any man who touches you is as good as dead,” Viktor said before turning away and walking back to the outhouse.

*****

Viktor was on the phone with Manning, who had gone to the supposed rendezvous point Garett Fletcher gave up, but the Guardian found nothing other than an abandoned truck. No canisters and no Owen Reed. He sent the second team of Guardians back to DC, bearing the cell phones and hard drives they had retrieved from the Fletcher residence. The “cleaners” also did a sweep of the house to find any traces of the nerve gas, but came up empty.