Chapter Three

Deacon

It was time to go hunting. I had a fuck-ton of rage built inside me and I was going to take it out on every motherfucker who was involved with the attack on Grim Road. I didn't really care about anyone there, though I respected everyone I'd met from Grim. The only person I cared about was Apple. She was hurting both physically and emotionally and I was the cause of at least one of them. There was a good possibility me and Sting hadn't hidden my relationship with Apple as well as I'd hoped and that could have played a part, but Sting and Wylde didn't think so. And yeah, the meeting with Wylde had gone about as well as I could have expected. Which is to say I nearly got my ass beat. Again.

I had a meeting with one of the scum tonight. It was the only fucking reason I'd left Apple instead of sitting with her, no matter what her wishes had been. I needed to be near her. To know she was safe and healing. I needed to be there taking care of her. Which just pissed me the fuck off all the more.

I was done. Done. This was it. What I was about to do would get my club to cull me and rightfully so. But, by God, I was tired of this. All of this. Men who hurt women for the fun of it. Men who sold women and children to the highest bidder. Hell, a man like Borris Illivitch who could sell his own stepdaughter to settle his debts? None of them deserved to live. They deserved to have the same things happen to them as they sold their prey into. That was exactly what I was gonna dish out tonight.

I'd killed plenty of times since I'd joined the Marines. Even more when I'd been loaned to the CIA because I was the best hunter in service. I was young and inexperienced, but I was a go-getter. So I'd killed. So many fucking times. Never once did I leave the killing field that I didn't feel the need to puke. It's why I didn't make a career out of the military or even move on to private work with the CIA. This time, however, I was looking forward to the fucking killing.

No. That wasn't entirely true. I wasn't looking forward to the actual killing. I was looking forward to what came… before. Every single man I was getting ready to kill was going to suffer like they'd never dreamed. The fucking thing about it was, I'd never even come close to snapping like this. The mere thought that any of this had come to touch Apple -- in any way at all -- drove me to a murderous rage. Combine that with her complete and total rightful rejection of me and the need to go scorched earth on these men was a compulsion. It was the only thing that might come close to easing some of the anger and grief inside me.

"Easy there, brother." Falcon settled himself next to me. He kept a wary distance, eyeing me like I was a ticking time bomb. He wasn't wrong.

"Ain't your brother," I muttered as I went back to studying the yachts anchored in the marina. Big-ass boats for the ultra-rich wannabes. Borris Illivitch fell into that category. He had money, but not nearly as much as he wanted. Or needed. He was currently on that boat. And I wanted on it with him.

"Sure you are. We're Marines. That makes us brothers, right?"

I didn't even look at the guy. "Nope."

"Come on, Deacon. You don't want to go in there alone." Finally, I glanced at Falcon. The other man was quartering the area like a pro. I knew he'd be a good man to have at my back. I also knew he was only here because Rocket wanted to make sure I didn't make a mess in his territory. He didn't care if the guy died. He just didn't want anything to lead back to his club or any of his men. Which was fine. I got it. But when I hunted, I went alone. Always. Which is why Falcon would soon find out he wasn't going any-fucking-where.

"Yeah, Falcon. I'm going in by myself. Don't want or need you to have my back." I moved, sitting up and fiddling with my go bag while Falcon continued to study the boat and area around it. He really should pay attention to his immediate surroundings. After this lesson, he would from now on.

"Tough shit, bro. Got orders I'm to stay on your six." Falcon didn't take his eyes from the boat. He had field glasses up now.

I glanced at my watch. It was synced with Wylde's and he was switching off all security cameras in exactly fifteen seconds. "Then stay on my six. Way the fuck back on my six." I stood and moved toward the pier. Falcon… didn't.

"The fuck, Deacon," he hissed. Which was good, ‘cause if he'd given me away, I'd fucking shoot him and deal with the fallout later. "Get the fuckin' cuff off my ankle."

I turned and grinned at him. "Stay put, sunshine."

Falcon continued to sputter but he did it quietly so he got to live. Not that I cared much. I just didn't want that bastard, Borris, having a fucking heads-up he was being hunted.

Getting on the yacht was surprisingly easy. I'd expected guards and was ready, but the kids had no idea what they were doing. Not only that, but they were light with only two men on the gangway, one inside, and the captain. Taking them out was easy.

Once the captain was knocked out, I dragged all the men off the boat and secured them on the pier. Falcon would get loose eventually and take care of them because he didn't have much of a fucking choice. Then I made a round on the boat. Borris, the fucker, was passed out in his cabin. What I assumed was cocaine lay in messy lines on a mirror beside the bed. Bastard must have been completely wasted.

I tied him down quickly enough. Fucker just kept snoring. Once I was sure the place was secure, no one else on board, I took the boat out to sea. What I was getting ready to do was going to take some time. And be very noisy. And messy.

The boat had a personal water craft docked, full of gas, and ready to run. Once I was done, I'd anchor the yacht in Davy Jones's Locker. I just had to make sure I didn't go so far I didn't have enough gas to get back to shore. Which was something I'd trained for and knew very well how to do.

I gave it a few hours. Not only did I want Illivitch good and sober when we started, I needed to rest. Though it had taken little effort to dispatch the guards and the one crew member, I'd been awake for close to forty-eight hours and needed my wits about me. Borris wasn't going anywhere.

I lay down on a bench in the wheelhouse. It was actually quite comfortable. With the ocean gently rocking the boat and the sound of waves hitting the sides, it was easy to drift off.

I woke to the sounds of Borris Illivitch yelling at the top of his lungs, angry as shit. Yeah. He was good and pissed. He had no idea exactly what kind of trouble he was in or he'd be sobbing in fear. Oh well. There was time enough for that later.

I got to my feet and headed below deck where I'd left Illivitch. Sitting on the top step, was Falcon.

"Christ," I swore, kicking the other man half-heartedly so he had to catch himself before he tumbled below deck. "What the fuck are you doin' here, man?"

"Rocket's orders. Do what you want to the bastard, but I'm here on behalf of Grim Road. You do this in our territory, it becomes our business."

"You're here to babysit me, motherfucker. I don't need it."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Seems to me you do. Besides, I got a better boat than that pissy little water scooter." He stood, leaning against the railing. "You do plan on sinkin' the fuckin' boat. Right?"

"I don't fuckin' need this," I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face. "Stay or go. Don't give a fuck. But stay out of my fuckin' way."

Without waiting for an acknowledgment, I descended the ladder. Illivitch's quarters were in the aft of the ship at the end of the passageway. Illivitch's angry shouts bellowed from behind the door.

I shoved the door open and sneered at the man tied to the bed. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Cliché, but I didn't give a fuck. The more painful I could make it for this man the better satisfied I'd be. Which included cheesy villain lines.

"I'll fuckin' kill --" He stopped mid-sentence as he got a good look at me. "D-Deacon? What the fuck?" Yeah. Motherfucker had a right to be nervous. He knew what I was capable of.

"I warned you. I let you go before because you were of more use to me alive than dead, but I found out that was a mistake on my part. One I won't repeat."

"I haven't done anything, Deacon." He lifted his chin and tried for an air of authority, like he fully expected me to not only believe him but release him immediately.

"Oh? What about your stepdaughter?"

He gave me a lascivious grin. "She's a hot little bitch, isn't she? Perfectly legal. She's not my daughter, and she's over eighteen. You can have her if you want. She was a virgin when she ran off so, even if one of those bikers did fuck her, she's not been used too much. Just let me go and I'll let you do whatever you want to her. Only thing I ask is that you bring her back in one piece and unscarred." This guy!

"You really are a dumbass," I chuckled, crossing my arms over my chest. "You don't have Calista, Borris. Even if you did, it's this very thing right here that's gettin' you killed." I yanked the bedding off him and took out my knife. He flinched back, but I just started cutting off his clothes. "You're telling me --" I kept my tone as conversational as I could, "-- you're willing to give me your stepdaughter, the young woman your beloved wife left in your care after she passed away, to use how I please. To fuck the shit outta her whether she wants it or not."

He scoffed. "You know as well as I do bitches like her always want it. They tease us, then get all pissy when we take what they're offering. Calista is just like all the rest of 'em. She won't care. She'll pretend she doesn't want it, but she'll secretly get off on it." He gave me a cajoling smile. "I'll have her back with me any day now. She's fuckin' some guy in a biker gang around here. Girl loves slummin'. Give her a few days to rest up and I'm sure her pussy will be just as tight and hot as it ever was."

Without a word, I continued to cut off his clothes until he was completely nude. As I thought, he was aroused. Likely from fantasizing about all the things that would happen to Calista. Sick fuck.

"So, a couple things." I sheathed my knife and shrugged out of the small backpack I had over my shoulders and set it at the foot of the bed. "First off, Calista is perfectly fine and well. She's with her daddy's enforcer. And Ringo isn't the kind of man to let an attack on his woman go without consequences." I grinned as I watched Borris's expressions go from surprise to fury in the space of only a few seconds.

"Motherfuckers!" His explosion wasn't unexpected. Fucker was crazy and had fixated on Calista. Knowing he was beaten was bound to push him over the edge. "She's mine!"

"No. She's Ringo's. Which brings us to the second thing. When you sicced Redwood on Calista, you forgot to tell him not to shoot anyone."

"What the fuck do I care who he shoots?"

"Because he missed Calista and hit another woman."

"Bitch shoulda been out of the way." Borris stuck his chin up, like he was daring me to contradict him.

"Right," I drawled, digging into my bag and pulling out several large dildos and a jar of ghost pepper sauce I'd use for lube. "See, here's the problem I have, Borris. You're a predator. You prey on women. You haven't gotten to children yet, but you're flirting with it. It's why you needed to sell Calista. Right? To pay for the little boy you wanted?"

Illivitch froze, his eyes wide. Like he just realized a hellhound was staring at him from the foliage. "What do you want?" His voice was a raspy whisper. Yeah. He knew he was fucked.

"I want you to die, Borris. It's really that simple." I shrugged. "The more complicated part is how you die. And how long it takes."

"Anything, Deacon." Illivitch was sweating now, his breathing shallow and rapid. Yeah. He knew this wasn't going to go well for him. "Name your price!" God, I loved hearing him beg for mercy. It would do him no good, but I wanted to drag it out. To make him suffer like he made others suffer.

"You're going to tell me who you move skin to. I want every single name. When I'm convinced you've given me everything you know, we'll discuss how you die."

"I don't know their names," he snapped, angry once again. He probably thought I'd cave and let him go. He really should have known better. I'd told him as much when I let him go before. Guess he didn't believe me. Well. He was about to find out just how wrong he was. "None of them! Everything's done anonymously for this very reason."

I gave him a look of false sympathy. "I was afraid you'd say that." I grinned at him. "Just as well we do things the hard way. I think you should get a taste of what you dish out." I tossed a giant latex dick onto his belly. "I got all kinds of shit in my bag o' goodies. I promise. You're gonna love this every bit as much as those women you sold did." I shrugged. "Maybe even more because I'm an overachiever."

"What? What are you gonna fucking do?"

"Shit." I chuckled. I was actually amused at how he was trying to deny what he knew was about to happen. "Surely to God, even you ain't that fuckin' stupid."

I expected him to come off with something else like, "You can't do this," or "You'll never get away with this." But he just whimpered, trying to move his legs together where I had them tied, spread eagle, to the bed.

"Oh good," I said with a bright smile. "I see you get it now. Feel free to scream as much as you like."

I drew out the torture for several days. Figured it was no less than the fucker deserved. Surprisingly, Falcon didn't protest. He didn't help in the actual torture, but he got in more than a few good licks. It was his club that had been affected by this bastard as I understood. I could tell some of the things I'd done to Illivitch had gone way past his comfort zone. He hadn't protested once, though.

I used a secure satellite link to get the information I'd gotten out of Illivitch to Wylde, who promised to have me a hunting destination in twenty-four hours. That was on the sixth day. Falcon objected to more but only because he said the food stores on the boat were out and he wanted a fucking pizza. I didn't have much of an appetite but I could sympathize. And not because of the mess I'd made of Illivitch. Apple was at the Grim Road compound and she didn't want me with her. I wasn't going to listen to her, but it still made me feel a little dead inside knowing how much I'd hurt her. And that she could have died because I wasn't there to protect her.

"Time to go," I said. Borris was conscious but barely coherent, and only because I'd taken great pains to not let him pass out. Was hard though. His genitals and anus were in very sorry shape. Only thing I regretted was having to touch the fucker. Thank Christ for surgical grade personal protective equipment because not only was there blood everywhere, the last thing I'd wanted to actually touch was this guy's junk. "I'd just let you drown or be shark bait, but I don't like loose ends. Rot in hell, you bastard." I cut his throat and watched as he finished bleeding out. Too easy as far as I was concerned, but he'd still suffered. It would have to be enough for me. For now anyway. Once I found these other bastards, however, I'd see if I could refine my technique and keep them alive for weeks.

"Boat's ready whenever you are, Deacon," Falcon said casually before adding, "Remind me never to piss you off. I think I'd rather deal with Lemon."

"Some things need to be done. If you think Lemon wouldn't do the same thing I just did in the same situation, you don't know your vice president very well."

"Point taken."

"Let me set the charges on the hull and we can blow this joint."

Falcon snorted out a laugh. "You're gonna fit right in with that family."

I stilled. "What family?"

"Lemon and Apple. You're exactly like them. Inappropriate humor and mean as fuck."

"I'm not their family, Falcon. They ain't mine."

"No? That ain't what Lemon said."

"Lemon was wrong."

"Uh-huh." Falcon clapped me on the shoulder. "Let me know how that works out for you."