Chapter Eight

With his eye on the scope, Cutler scanned the area. He didn’t see anything he normally would for jobs like this. There were no extra teams. No illegally docked containers. No guards. He was confused as fuck. When he was certain there was no one to spot him, Cutler rolled upright and dug his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Zander’s number. It rang twice.

“What’s wrong? ”

That was a fair way to answer, since Cutler never called. “I’m set up, but there’s no one here. There’s nothing out of place.”

“What are you talking about?”

Cutler’s eyebrows snapped together. “What do you mean, what am I talking about? You texted me there was an unexpected shipment and to get to the docks.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He switched Zander to speaker and scrolled through his texts. “What do you mean you didn’t? I’m looking at the texts right now.” He screenshotted them and sent them to Zander.

“I didn’t send those texts. Get out of there.” The sudden deadly note to Zander’s voice had Cutler’s gaze shooting in every direction. He was alone. He had the high ground. There was no way he was currently being targeted. “I don’t understand.”

“Listen to me, Cutler. Get the fuck out of there. My number has obviously been cloned. Move your ass, now.”

Cutler went to work, breaking down his rifle. Still, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he argued. “From my vantage, there’s no way I’m in danger. I don’t understand what the point of driving me out here in the middle…” Realization hit. “I’m not the target. Fuck me, Zander. I’m not the target.” He snatched up his shit and ran for the truck.

“Talk to me, Cutler. What’s happening?”

Cutler tried to speak through the panic. “Gable. He’s asleep in my bed right now.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Cutler broke every speed limit. Zander’s questions gave him something to focus on so he didn’t black out in his panic. “Gable. He’s the guy I’m dating. From the CIA. He used to work with the contact you sent me to meet in Alabama. Fuck, Zander. He moved here and oh my God.”

He heard Zander barking orders in the background. Cutler couldn’t focus on anything. “Keep me on the phone. Don’t hang up, okay?”

Cutler didn’t respond, but he didn’t disconnect the call. He was too far gone to worry about anything but the miles between Gable and him. He screeched to a stop outside the garage, unwilling to wait on the slow-ass door to let his truck inside. Cutler stuffed the phone in his back pocket with Zander still on the line. A coldness washed over him as he grabbed a gun from beneath the seat. The door stood open three inches. He strained to hear anything.

“Someone’s broken the back lock.” Cutler whispered the words, fighting the urge to kick his own ass. He hadn’t set the alarm on his way out. That was how certain he had been he would be back soon. Cutler made his way inside, doing his best to listen for any sound and search for any danger while making his way toward the bedroom. The dead silence was almost eerie. It hit him. There was no power. No hum of electricity ran in the background, feeding daily energy vampires. There was nothing but the sound of his pulse beating in his ears.

“Gable!” Cutler shouted, hoping to startle any intruders from their hiding spots. The sound of heavy pants reached his ears. “Gable!”

“I’m here.” The whispered words sounded strained.

Cutler flew into the bedroom, ready to get shot as long as he got to Gable. Even in the darkness, Cutler saw the blood. “Oh my, God. ”

“What’s happened?” The muffled voice from his back pocket reminded Cutler he wasn’t alone. But Zander was on the opposite side of the country. He couldn’t help. “There’s blood everywhere.” Cutler tried to see the source with no lights. He pulled out his phone and used the flashlight. Gable was in a fetal position. There was too much blood to find the source. Rattling breaths were the only sound he made.

“Holy shit. Hold on, baby. I’m getting help.” He didn’t hesitate to cut the call with Zander to call nine-one-one. Cutler half-ass heard the call answered. He spoke, panicking as he answered each question thrown his way. It was like no oxygen reached his brain. Blood coated Cutler’s hands as he fought to stop bleeding from wounds he didn’t understand. He was too far gone to know if Gable had been shot or stabbed or beaten. All he saw was blood that wouldn’t stop flowing between his fingers. There was no way someone could lose so much and live. He watched the greatest love of his life slip away from him. Only one thought penetrated his fear. He wouldn’t survive this twice.

Blood poured between his fingers. Danilo couldn’t die. He had given Cheslav everything to live for in a life so bleak, no one could imagine the horrors. Cheslav had been free. Since just after turning sixteen, he had flown under his father’s radar. So much time had passed, he thought his dad had forgotten about him. Cheslav had let himself get complacent. He had let himself fall in love.

He couldn’t breathe. Logically, Cheslav knew he was having a panic attack, but it felt worse. It was like his heart would explode any second. He wished it would. No matter how hard he tried to stop the blood from flowing from the dozen stab wounds his father had inflicted, in his heart, Cheslav knew. Danilo was dead. His father sat calmly nearby, covered in the blood spattered from his frenzy. There would be no help called. They were simply waiting for the inevitable. The cruelty rolling from his father in waves was as familiar to Cheslav as breathing. His throat was nearly swollen shut. Hot tears pressed at the backs of his eyes. He felt as helpless and useless as ever.

“You’re mine, baby boy. Maybe you’ll remember it now.”

Cheslav’s eyes fell closed. The first tear fell. He had never escaped hell. His dad had just found a new way to torture him.

The scent of antiseptic and despair filled his nostrils. The smell was tinged with copper from Gable’s blood covering his hands. He couldn’t do this twice in one lifetime. Cutler had truly believed he was free of his father. There could be no doubt this was his doing. Gable’s mom’s pale hand looked small and out-of-place holding his blood-coated hand. She didn’t shy away from her son’s dried blood. Nothing mattered but the silent strength they fought to lend each other.

The door to the ER waiting room opened. A man covered from head to toe in tattoos swept into the building like a wraith. People immediately averted their eyes and scurried from his path. Lazarus Melnyk was a face Cutler hadn’t seen in years. He hadn’t changed much except for a few more tattoos. The guy looked like he belonged in a biker gang. He definitely looked like the executioner he was. There could only be one reason for his arrival. Zander had sent him to kill someone.

His dark gaze landed on Cutler. Cutler held his stare as Lazarus headed his way. He didn’t sit. “How’s your man?” His voice sounded like he didn’t use it often.

“He’s in surgery.”

His gaze slid toward Gable’s mom. He leaned close to Cutler’s ear. “I know who did this. Are you in?”

Cutler didn’t need to hear more. He stood. “Give me just a second.” Cutler met Gable’s mom’s stare. Her eyes were so much like Gable’s, it hurt. They had been in too much shock to share too many words before now. He leaned down and spoke close to her ear. “This is an undercover who works with Gable.” It was a total lie, but it was one he knew Gable’s mom would believe. She was proud of her special agent son. Plus, her raced flight from Alabama in the middle of the night had her too jet-lagged on top of stressed and scared to question anything. “They’ve located the man responsible. I have to go. Please text me if you find out anything before I get back.”

She grabbed his sleeve before he got away. “I’ll keep you posted. Make them pay.”

Cutler nodded. He knew she had to see the murder in his eyes. She kissed his cheek and Cutler followed on Lazarus’ heels. He was older now and free. This time, he wasn’t helpless. Someone had hurt his baby. Hell was coming for them.

It had been years since Lazarus set eyes on Cutler. There was only so much work for people like them. They didn’t tend to travel in packs. Plus, they had a different class of client. Cutler had always been polished and charming, having been raised in mafia royalty. Lazarus had come from the dirt. Dirt was what he erased.

It was eerie how quiet Cutler was. Blood coated his hands. He made no move to remedy the situation. It was obvious Cutler was in a dark place. Lazarus wasn’t the type to reel in anyone’s crazy, but they were walking into hell together. He needed to know Cutler wasn’t willing to sacrifice him to get his revenge.

“Your boy works a dangerous job, but he doesn’t keep a very low profile.”

“I recognize I should’ve protected him better.”

Lazarus fought the urge to snort. “You can’t protect him from every enemy he makes in his line of work.”

“His work didn’t do this. It was my father. I recognize his calling card.”

Lazarus scoffed without thinking. He wasn’t a compassionate guy, but he realized Cutler was in a bad place. Still, they definitely couldn’t rush into what was likely a trap—given how quickly he had gotten the info on Gable’s attacker—with Cutler having daddy issues. “Your dad is an eighty-year-old man rotting in prison. His day is long gone. No one would dare cross Zander to strike at you, especially not for him. You were called away for a reason. This person wanted you out of the way. This wasn’t about you. No one likes a snitch and being a CIA agent is a paid snitch. He crossed the wrong one when he chose to drop a bug on Warren Legion, thinking he wouldn’t find out who he was. Everyone knows Warren is the right hand of the devil. That’s not a dude you play with.”

“Sometimes snitches are the only thing standing between a monster and an innocent child.” Cutler’s words came out sounding deadly, as if spoken between clenched teeth.

Horror overcame Lazarus. He wasn’t one to feel guilty, but he hadn’t considered his words. Lazarus hated any form of law enforcement. He thought they were useless and more often than not on the take, but he had forgotten Cutler had once testified against his father.

“Look, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Cutler said, cutting him off. “I appreciate you finding the culprit. I had forgotten all about the Warren thing. But it honestly doesn’t matter who they are. They’re still dead.”

Cutler’s voice sounded empty and cold. Lazarus got it. Cutler’s man had been in surgery for hours. There was a very good chance he wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t be in two places at once. This needed to be taken care of so Cutler could have quick and brutal vengeance, and he could return to Gable without fear of this happening again.

Their destination came into view. It was a gorgeous house in a secluded area with private beach access. It was the perfect spot for a rich man’s right-hand man to live, complete with a watery escape route. They would have to move fast before the guy had time to get away or hide. No doubt the place had a hundred ways to protect its owner, likely including guards of his own. Their window to get to Warren would be small.

It amazed Lazarus that Cutler didn’t ask questions as he parked on the street, slightly out of view. He simply slipped from the truck, prepared to go in with nothing but his bare hands as weapons. Lazarus motioned toward the bed of the truck. He pulled back a dark tarp, revealing a cache of weapons. Cutler grabbed a baseball bat, proving he fully intended to make someone suffer for as long as possible.

Every light in the house was on. No alarms sounded or gunshots rang out as they quietly made their way around the property. They circled the house, peering in windows and getting their bearings. It was eerily quiet inside. A man with dark hair sat facing away from the window and toward a TV. That was the only person Lazarus spotted. Nothing made sense other than it being a trap. No way should Warren Legion be this easy to target. They chose the door farthest away from the man, allowing them a buffer from any slight noise picking the lock would create.

Lazarus dug his lock pick from his pocket.

Cutler took a step back and kicked the door in. He was inside before Lazarus had time to recover.

“Goddamn it, Cutler.” Lazarus scrambled after him as Cutler stormed into the house. No guards came running. The place stayed silent. No alarm blared. Lazarus knew there was a problem before they made it to the sitting room and to the man they had spotted through the window.

Disappointment ran through Lazarus as he entered the sitting room. A lone man sat upright, completely covered in blood. His dead eyes stared at nothing. A note pinned to his chest with a knife had Lazarus moving closer. He ripped the paper away and read it aloud.

“We’re square.”

They exchanged a glance.

Cutler eyed a very dead Warren with hatred. “What in the hell is going on here?”

“I don’t know.” Lazarus read the note again and studied the corpse. “I’m willing to bet half that blood is Gable’s. So, who in the fuck killed him? Shit. I was really looking forward to a fight.” No one let Lazarus have any fun.

Cutler sighed and pinched the spot between his eyes. Before Lazarus could say more, Cutler jumped and dropped the bat, quickly pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes moved across the screen. He snatched up the bat and headed for the door, explaining as he went. “Gable made it through surgery.”

It seemed priorities had shifted. All Cutler cared about now was Gable. Lazarus was the one left with the itch of an unsolved mystery. He didn’t like being in the dark. Cutler might be fine with knowing nothing more than Gable’s attacker was dead. Lazarus had to know why. This wasn’t over. He had to know more.