Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Violet

If looks could kill, his phone would be incinerated right about now. I cringe at the latent threat in his voice.

" I want everyone in surveillance on this call."

"On it, sir."

I watch as he releases a breath. "Connect the call." There's a series of clicks. "Cain Master speaking."

"Ahhh, Mr. Master. We meet again." I shiver at the unpleasant sound of Dossier's voice. Some voices are musical, almost lyrical. Others are neutral. Dossier's makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Cain glances at me. Someone he does know, or should know, as we suspected.

"No. Where's my sister?"

"Settle down, Mr. Master. I have your sister right here."

Cain's shaking with anger, but I can tell he's relieved as well.

Skylar's alive. I exhale and reach my fingers to his knee. I give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Why don't you put her on the phone." His tone is deceptively calm.He's a raging inferno, ready to annihilate. I'm not even the one he's angry at, and his roiling fury has me trembling.

"Now, now, Mr. Master, no need to be hasty. Relax. Skylar and I are having a brilliant time, aren't we?"

Do I detect an accent? If there is one, it's faint.

"Cain!" A young female voice sounds frantic on the other line. "It's a setup. Don't come!" Like that would stop him. An armed squad paired with a bomb threat wouldn't stop him.

There's a scuffling noise then the sound of a thump and a muffled cry.

"If you hurt her, I'll kill you." I feel as if actual fire shoots from Cain's eyes.

"That's what you like to do, isn't it? You kill people just for the hell of it, don't you? You don't care who you kill. You don't care if people have family. The ends always justify the means with you, don't they?"

Cain doesn't respond but goes deadly calm.

His eyes flick to mine and I can't quite read him.

"What do you want?"

"You can't give me what I want, Master." Oh, the irony of him calling Cain Master. "So I'll do what you do oh so well.I'll take what's mine."

"If you?—"

The line goes dead. He grabs the phone, curses, and it looks like he's going to whip it right out the window. I grab his arm. "Stop! You'll need that if he calls you again. I know, I want to break things, too."

The truck comes to a rumbling stop at the side of the road. He tosses it into park and buries his head in his hands. Shoulders heaving, I wonder at first if he's crying. The thought terrifies me.

Gently, I reach a hand to his shoulder. He's breathing heavily, his body tense like a bowstring pulled too tightly. He's going to snap.

"We'll find her," I tell him, determined. "I don't care what it takes. We'll find him."

When he lifts his head, his eyes are too bright, but he hasn't cried. Still, it breaks my heart to see him so tortured.

"He's right, Violet. I did kill, and I have no regrets. I did it for my country. For my soldiers at arms."

I read his files. I know what he did, what he's capable of. But I don't see a bad man. No. Only a good man would feel the weight of his actions the way Cain does. Only a good man would lay down life and limb for the people he loves. He's loyal to his very core.

I gentle my voice. "One thing at a time. Let's go over what he said. Did your team get anything at all?"

"The call was too brief, all ability to track expertly blocked."

"Okay, alright, so let's put our heads together. He says you know him. How would you know him?"

"Must've been when I served in the military."

"In France?"

He gives me a short nod. "Yeah."

"Tell me what happened there. Would anyone have reason to want to kill you?"

" Lots of people want to kill me. Fucking dozens. I was in charge of protecting the U.S. Embassy. It came to my knowledge there was going to be an attack, so I acted." He blows out a breath. "If I had it to do over again, I would behave differently, but honest to God…" His voice trails off, and he shakes his head. "I did what I thought was best at the time." He glances at the clock on the dash. "I don't have time to go into detail."

"Summary, please. I need to know."

"Fine. The short version. We were subject to a hostile militia attack at our embassy access points. They began at night and went into the day. The attacks were unprovoked and considered an act of war and had to be stopped or many, many more would've died. The attacks focused on the arrival of American diplomats who'd come to the Embassy to sign an agreement with the U.N., but the agreement had a direct impact on weapons sales across the Mediterranean."

I nod. Following.

"It was one attack after another. Since we were attacked, we sent an airstrike, which killed dozens. So when I got word the militia was preparing for a counterattack, I sent our men to ward that off." His lips thin. "Their initial attacks cost us twenty million in fire damage, and we lost two dozen of our soldiers, not to mention dozens of innocents. I couldn't let more devastation happen."

"Of course not," I say, squeezing his knee. I hate that he bears this burden, to this day.

"So we attacked them before their counter strike, and we killed the entire militia. It's the worst memory I have, and one I wish I could erase forever."

"I understand. I have a few like that myself."

We're only a few blocks away from the bar now.

"There are ways of erasing bad memories," I say gently.

He reaches for my fingers and gives my hand a little squeeze. "Yeah? How?"

"You replace them with new ones."

We drive by the business section of town, where the office parks are lined up near restaurants and retail shops. Something flashes by my window, and suddenly, a spark fuses in my brain and I have the answer, with lightning clarity.

I know.

"Stop!"

The truck comes to a screeching halt as he yanks the steering wheel to the right and pulls to the side of the road. "What is it?"

"The flowers. Oh, God, Cain, the flowers. You said you think this guy has history in France, right?"

"Yes."

"The flowers he's been sending. The beautiful purplish-blue flowers, those are irises, right? He puts them next to the baby's breath."

He's staring at me now with so much intensity, I feel hot under the glare. "Yes?"

"The iris is the national flower of France. Baby's breath represents innocence, doesn't it?"

He nods.

"Criminals who leave clues think they're clever, that they can outsmart the police. Most of them are narcissists. He did this out of pride, to taunt us."

"Did what ?" He's clearly running out of patience.

I talk faster. "The fleur-de-lis emblem, the one with the flower and leaves? French symbol. Fleur-de-lis. He's taken every single woman right here in Salem, the very same city with the Fleur-de-lis Memorial."

His phone rings again as he pulls back out into the intersection. Joe.

"Boss, we found something we think you need to know."

"Don't keep me waiting."

"You ordered us to find the names of the people killed in the counterattack of the Embassy to see if anyone was connected to Dossier. We found none by the name of Dossier, sir. We did, however, find a Dozier. Actually, two. Twins. One was killed, the survivor moved to America. We found him, and he fits the profile of the man they've suspected of being behind these attacks."

I suddenly feel cold. "Could… someone from another country become a police officer here in the States?"

"Depends on the state but yes, many departments will allow it."

"So the former police officer that's suspected in the abductions and rape cases… could've been the same man you fought overseas… especially if he fudged his age here in the U.S."

"Yes."

I think this over. "Cain. Dozier's French for willow… it's the surname for someone who lived near a plantation of willows… if you killed his twin…" I smack my forehead. "Skip the bar, we can't go there. We have to go to the Salem Willows, it's where the Fleur-de-lis Memorial is!" My heart races with excitement. We've had a breakthrough."It's a hunch, but my hunches are very, very good."

"Don't get too excited. He likely laid this out precisely so we'd find him. Remember, Skylar said it was a setup."

The Salem Willows Park is thirty-five acres along the ocean, named because of the white willow trees planted along the walkways to offer shade. The long, graceful branches nearly graze the ground they've grown so long, and on warm summer days like today, it's not unusual to find families strolling along the paths, ice cream cones in hand, or cyclists whizzing past on two wheels. The rocky beach borders large, grassy fields, where people often picnic or play frisbee.

Around the Willows, though, are several residential houses, apartment complexes and rentals, video arcades and vendors selling carnival food and treats.

The Fleur-de-lis Memorial stands in the center of Salem Willows Park, only steps away from the main attractions.

When we arrive, the park is teeming with people, dogs, and bicyclists. We park the truck at the edge and move quickly to the Fleur-de-lis.

My skin prickles.

Here. He's here.

They're here. I know they are.

Cain whips his head around, scouring the passersby, but it's hard to tell even where to begin.

"Too many people here," he mutters. "Too many goddamn civilians. We'll have to find them and isolate them."

A shiver skates down my spine. I've read what he does to them when he has them alone. "But first we have to find them."

When we draw near to the Fleur-de-lis, I don't see anything that can lead us to where Dossier's got Skylar.

We walk up and down the paths, intent on finding details or something that would give us a clue.

Near the arcade, something purple catches my eye.

"Cain." I point wordlessly, as my stomach churns with acid. Bordering the entrance to the arcade are gorgeous purple irises in full bloom.

"They usually bloom earlier in the year," I say to Cain, shaking my head. "But spring was late with the cold weather, and they've bloomed later than usual." He exhales as I continue, "He used those flowers because he wants you to find him."

His hand takes mine as we walk side by side. "You ready for this?"Cain asks.

"The man tried to attack me. He used intimidation tactics and hurt me. He came after your sister and other innocent women and did the very worst things he could have. Am I ready for this?" I huff out a mirthless laugh. "I may fight you off so I can kill him myself."

My breathing hitches when he tugs me a little closer to him and says in a low voice laced with approval, "That's my girl. We'll fight him. We'll rescue Skylar. And then we'll kill him."

"They do call you the executioner. I hope you live up to the name." I love the way his eyes light up, even as a mask of fury and resolve etches lines around his eyes.

"You do know how to flirt with a guy, don't you?"

"Not in the slightest. But with you, I'm learning."

We move gracefully. As one.

"We'll go into the arcade. See what we can find. I texted Joe and my surveillance team, they're getting back to me with specs on the arcade's layout."

It's dim and hot in the arcade. Skee ball flanks one wall, across from air hockey machines and foosball tables. Large, clunky machines spit out coins and tickets, and everywhere we turn, I see flashing lights. I can hardly hear myself think in here with the bells and whistles and loud, raucous music.

Cain says something to me, but I can hardly hear him. I shake my head to tell him I can't hear him. He lifts his phone. He's got the arcade blueprint.

Two floors. The first houses video games, skee ball, and the table games, but upstairs are the classic games, virtual reality, and funhouse. Behind the funhouse are storage rooms and a small studio apartment.

They could be anywhere.

According to this map, the stairs are to the left of the foosball tables. I reach for his hand so we don't get separated in the crush of people. I locate the dimly lit back stairs. He goes ahead of me but reaches his hand behind him so we don't let go.

The noise increases as we go upstairs. At first, my heart beats faster at the sound of a scream, but at the top of the stairs I see a macabre Halloween game with a screaming banshee. A few teens are laughing and playing, racking up points for every scream the banshee shouts. A few feet away, my body's tall and distorted in the funhouse mirror, and Cain's looks oddly frightening with a twisted clown's face staring at us.

"I hate arcades," I mutter to myself. "I fucking hate them."

I once got lost in an arcade as a child and never forgot it. They're easy to get lost in. Cain doesn't know how much it means to me that he's holding my damn hand.

I jump when one of the teens hits the jackpot, the screaming banshee's wails pitching louder and louder. Cain frowns, his eyes narrowed. Here, right behind these walls, are the storage rooms and studio apartment, likely designed for the owners to live in or rent.

"Those fucking screams don't help," I mutter. His body goes rigid.

"Christ, Violet. That isn't the machine," he says. I look wildly back to see the teens have gone, the game is back to the "start" menu, but the screams haven't stopped. A chill runs down my spine.

"Through here," I say, pointing a finger at the break room door. "In here."

It's locked, but that doesn't stop him. It's an old wooden door that opens inward, and the locks look flimsy. A perfect setup. "Back up."

The guy's a human bulldozer, larger than any other human I've ever met, and he knows how to use his body. He lets loose with a roundhouse kick, followed by a shoulder ram. The door whines and cracks. Another kick, shoulder, kick, shoulder. The door splinters and breaks. I help him kick the broken wood aside, half expecting someone to attack, but no one comes at us at first.

He steps through, and I follow behind him. "Be careful, Violet." Like him, I expect someone to attack at any moment. No one comes. My spine straightens at another scream, louder this time, and it's not coming from behind us but in front of us.

In seconds, I've got a knife in each hand, and he's cocked his gun. I wish I was experienced enough to have one too, but I'll get there. The knives are only my backup. My body's my main weapon.

There's no movement ahead of us or around us. I don't look at Cain, both of us focused. It's a small room that leads into another, the curtains and shades drawn tight so the room's darkened. A yellowed, bare bulb hangs from the entryway, throwing off a weak glow. Broken arcade games surround both sides, some with wires hanging out, others with cracked screens, the machines tilted on their sides like discarded gaming carcasses. I shiver. There's something eerie about them.

Another scream. My heart beats so fast I feel nauseous. Cain breaks through the rubble and runs. For the huge guy he is, he runs fast. I run behind him, panting to keep up, and we come to another doorway, this one with no door. This room must've been part of a haunted house or something similar back in the day. Discarded party decorations litter the floor. We enter the room; it's lined with boxes, so dark it's hard to see a damn thing.

A wall of stench hits my nostrils, and I cover my mouth and nose. The unmistakable scent of body odor, sweat, and sex lingers in the air. My mouth waters with the need to vomit, and bile burns the back of my throat, but I have to keep my head on straight. I can't lose my shit now.

Cain's boots crunch on broken glass as another scream tears through the quiet.

Cain sees them before I do. I know this the second he whips out his gun and aims. "You motherfucker. Put the light on, Vi. I want to see the life leave his eyes when I kill him."

Him. One. There's only one? He stands directly in front of me so I can't see a damn thing.

I look around frantically for a light switch and finally see one behind a stack of boxes. I lean in and flick it on. The room lights up, revealing a bulky guy not much older than I am wearing an eye patch, his long black hair covering his face like a shroud. He grins like he's just won the lottery. Beside him tied to the bed lies a young woman in a tank top and nothing else, her body laced with lacerations and angry red welts.

"Cain," she says in a tearful voice. "I told you not to come, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Ahh, Mr. Master. I see you?—"

"Get down and cover."

I take a split second to process the command he snaps out before I drop to my knees and cover my ears, the cold metal of my knives on either side framing my face. One gunshot, two, a third I feel straight in my belly, and Dossier's body falls to the floor heavily. He screams, grabbing his arm.

"Secure Skylar, Violet. Leave him to me."

"Cain!" I stare in surprise as a second man enters the room who looks remarkably like Dossier. He brandishes a gun in the doorway. I don't think, but fling my knife with perfect precision directly at him. It strikes his belly as gunshots erupt. He falls to the floor, his face a mask of fury as he lunges for me. I roll and duck as he strikes out, dodging every attempt to hit me.

I have a second knife I whip at his leg. It hits precisely above his knee. He grabs at the knife, howling with rage, just as a gunshot hits his shoulder. Another one hits him in his other shoulder. I look up to see Cain staring down at him, his gun still smoking.

I know he's a perfect shot. He didn't aim to kill. He's here to capture. The killing will be a different story.

Dossier's bleeding behind him, his hand on his head as blood drips down his fingers.

Cain pulls out his phone and makes a call.

"Upper room. They're both alive, but not for long so fucking move. "

"You bastard! You think this is over?" Dossier spits blood and spittle on the ground in front of him.

"Oh, no," Cain says with that smile that chills me to the bone. "Nowhere close to over." He falls to one knee beside Dossier. "Violet, you secure the other asshole."

"Happily." I yank my knife from the guy's leg and hold it to his temple. "You hurt innocent women. If you move, I'll slice your throat." My hand shakes with the effort of holding myself back.

"You tried to kill my brother in Paris," Dossier shouts. "You left him for dead. You son of a bitch, so proud of yourself."

"I defended my country. You kidnapped and raped innocent women," Cain says. I turn to look as Cain reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Blood pours out of the wound and Dossier screams like a dying animal. "We'll both burn in hell for what we've done, but not until I'm good and ready to let you go."

Twins. The one supposedly killed wasn't dead after all. It all makes sense.

Dossier and his brother worked in tandem, one with an obvious alibi while the other kidnapped their victims. I'd bet good money both raped them. DNA evidence proved Dossier was the perpetrator because he was. Twin DNA is often so close it's indistinguishable.

Now that it's clear, I don't know how we missed it before. Twins. Fucking twins.

I scream when something strikes my back, pain radiating from my spine to my neck. I grab at my back and feel something wet and sticky. I look in disbelief at my hand covered in blood.

He sliced me with my own damn knife, but not very well. It grazed my skin but didn't stick.

"You son of a bitch." Cain lands a vicious kick to the Dossier he's got, then another and another until he slumps onto the floor. He swivels and lands a vicious kick to the other's belly. Blood spurts to the floor, and before he can recover, Cain hammers an uppercut to his abdomen with his right hand, then a jab to his jaw with his left, a brutal combination that leaves the other Dossier wheezing as he collapses again.

"You took my sister." Cain strikes him again, his fist like an anvil. "You raped innocent women." Dossier number two yanks his arms up to cover his face and openly cries, his tears mingled with blood, but I feel no sympathy. I want to see him suffer. I want to see him cry. "You dared to hurt my woman. " The next punch breaks bone. Dossier number two is a human punching bag and Cain has hit his rhythm, punching until he's unconscious.

"Cain!" I damn near risk my life and grab at his arm as he rears back to deliver what will no doubt be the blow that kills Dossier. The latent power in his arm sizzles through me, and I almost release him, but make myself hold fast. "While this is highly entertaining, you have to stop." He's panting with the exertion, sweat dripping down his face. I gentle my voice. "You have to stop, Cain. You have to leave something for us to interrogate."

The other one lunges at me, and I step out of the way just in time.

"Right." Cain faces the other Dossier, baring his teeth. "You piece of shit. You'll get a taste of the same fucking medicine."

"Cain," I say pleadingly. "Let me?"

He reaches down with a sickening smile and grabs Dossier by the hair. "Have at it, baby."

I swivel and give him a roundhouse kick. I hit him as hard as I can. He doubles over, grabbing his stomach. I knee him in the back and he falls to the floor. "You hurt his sister. You hurt innocent women. You broke into my house, and you made my man bleed. " I puncture every word with another jab, strike, and kick until he's whimpering and begging for mercy. It hasn't even begun to satisfy my thirst for violence when Cain speaks.

"Alright, Violet," Cain says, with unmistakable pride in his voice that makes my chest swell .

"He deserves more than that."

"And I'll make sure he gets what he deserves."

I look into Cain's eyes and reach my hand up to cup his jaw. His icy blue gaze locks with mine. " Promise me."

Gently extracting my hand from his face, he kisses each bloodied fingertip, one by one. "I promise you, sweetheart. I'll make them pay. Both of them."

A thrill of arousal races through me.

I might love this monster of a man.

Satisfied, I look around the room and see wires hanging out of a broken video game. I slice them with one of my knives, then tie both men at their ankles and wrists so I can get to Skylar.

Cain and I unfasten her and lead her off the dirty bed, grabbing a sheet to wrap around her waist. She trembles but walks beside me.

"Are you alright?" I ask her.

She looks away and doesn't answer at first, then finally nods. "I am now."

I walk back to the bed while Cain drags both men to it. He hauls one up like he's a sack of potatoes and tosses him unceremoniously on the bed. The guy whimpers. He takes the second, hog-tied and immobile, and tosses him beside his brother. Even though they're beaten beyond recognition and tied fast, he has me hold both men at gunpoint while he makes the call.

I don't even want to think about what he'll do to them when he brings them back to his place. I haven't even begun to explore the many rooms he has at his home, but something tells me the target range isn't the only soundproof room in the house. And I remember what I've read about his methods.

These men will wish we'd killed them here.

Skylar stares at me with large, frightened eyes.

"Who are you?" Her voice is wobbly, broken. My heart splinters. I don't even want to think about what she's been through.

I give her a gentle smile. "My name's Violet."

Skylar gives me a tentative smile back, through her obvious pain. "That's a beautiful name."