Chapter Six: Kane

It seems my initial assumption of Georgina was both wrong and right. Holly fucking Cooper, the girl who got away, the one I let live, lone heir to Cooper Enterprises and the wealth that came with it. Of course she’s used to getting her way, to people knowing who she is and affording her some respect. It’s the same adoration anyone with money gets from the normal rank and file.

But she’s not just a rich girl. No. Now that I’m in this position—tied to the damn bed with Holly straddling my chest while holding a knife against my cheek—I can see she’s more than a spoiled little rich girl.

She’s fury incarnate and she seeks revenge. Holly Cooper isn’t a child anymore, and she’s here to take her pound of flesh. It’s what she believes I owe her after taking her parents away from her.

But what she’ll never understand is if I didn’t do it, someone else would have, and who’s to say that person would have acted the same way as me that night? Holly should be thanking me I didn’t pull the trigger when I found her hiding in that closet.

That job may have been the beginning of my self-destruction, but it’s easy to act tough and uncaring when you’re being threatened—at least it is for me.

Holly’s green eyes burn with the fires of hatred as she gazes down at me, her hair a curtain as it blocks out the room. She weighs practically nothing on top of me, my body completely unburdened by her presence. She just asked me who put out the hit.

The situation is a serious one, but as a man who came to this cabin to let the wilderness take me, I find it a mixture of amusing and irritating. My lips curl into a smile, and though she presses that knife against my cheek hard enough to break the skin, I start to laugh.

I drank so much last night I made her job easy for her, huh? Well, I may have a pounding hangover right now, but I’m cognizant enough to be unimpressed by the feral, angry expression that only makes her look like a puffed-up kitten.

My laughter pissed her off more, and she growls out, “Stop laughing and tell me!”

After a moment or two, I quiet down and ask, “How many people are you willing to kill to get your revenge? Are you really ready to go on a mass-murdering spree? You don’t seem like the type.”

She flips her head up and frowns at the wall above the headboard. “And what would you know about me?”

“Well, based on this interaction I know you’re pissed off and vengeful. You’re also still rich and very resourceful, if finding me and tracking me to this cabin means anything. It’s not something any normal person could do, so kudos to you for that.”

The way she glares at me then tells me she wants to tear me apart—but again, when she glares she just looks like a feral kitten. Unimpressive in every way. The opposite of dangerous.

“All that aside,” I go on, “I don’t think you’re a killer. I don’t think you have it in you.”

The only thing Holly does is dig the knife into my cheek a little harder. A trail of blood oozes from the small cut, falling down the side of my face and probably entangling in my beard. “I have it in me.”

I don’t know who she’s trying to convince: herself or me, but it doesn’t matter. I tell her, “You want to know who ordered the hit. You probably have it in your head that you’ll kill anyone involved. Holly fucking Cooper, do yourself a favor and walk away while you can. This quest will only bring you pain.”

Her lips pucker into a frown. “I’m not afraid of pain. I’m not afraid of you or pain or anything! I just want to clean the board, and you’re going to tell me who I should go after next.” As she speaks, she moves the knife back to my throat, right above that important artery just below my left ear.

While it’s true I might not know much about her, I do know what buttons to press to piss her off further. “Oh, I’m just a worker bee, kid. They don’t let the worker bees know everything. We just do our job.”

A muscle in her jaw tenses. “Don’t call me a kid. I spent the last thirteen years of my life dreaming of this moment. I’m not a fucking kid anymore.” The words are hissed out, coated in venom, and I can tell she means them.

I’m her albatross, her bogeyman. I’m the monster that kept her up at night, the one whose face was burned into her memory. I am her own personal demon.

She’s not wrong, either. She’s not a kid. She’s a young woman, and though she reminds me of a kitten trying to be tough, she’s beautiful. Flawless. The kind of young woman most men would love to have on top of them.

But this isn’t a kinky sexual encounter. This is attempted murder with some torture thrown in. The real question is: is Holly ready for it? I have my doubts. She needs to face the fact that she won’t get anything out of me and kill me… because if I get out of these restraints, I’m not going to be the drunkard she’s seen the past day and a half.

I thought I left the old me behind, but he’s still here, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. Old habits die hard. If I get free, I won’t take it easy on the girl just because we have a little history.

“Looks like you’re going to have to do more snooping around, kid, if you want to keep following this trail, because I got nothing for you,” I say, flexing my hands and wrists against the restraints.

Rope. Tied pretty tightly, but not impossible to escape. I need Holly to leave the room, to get off me, before I bust out and make her regret coming at me like this.

Her free hand curls into a fist against my shirt, taking some fabric with it. On her other hand, she grips the handle of the knife hard enough to turn her knuckles white. “I don’t believe you,” she whispers through bared teeth. Again, like a feral kitten learning to hiss with no teeth or claws to back it up. “And stop calling me a kid! I stopped being a kid thirteen years ago thanks to you.”

“Kid—”

The sound Holly lets out after that is a groan laced with pure irritation, and without another word she slides off me and storms out of the room, taking the knife with her as she goes to, presumably, pout.

I was spot-on with the feral kitten thing.

She doesn’t leave the cabin, but she does go into the living room, which is the farthest she can be from where I am without physically going outside. It’s now or never. Time to get out of these fucking ropes and show her I’m not just a pathetic, drunk old man.

My arms are outstretched, tied to each bedpost. Tensing my muscles, I’m able to pull myself up so I’m sitting between my arms instead of laying on my back. Once I’m seated, I can get a better look at the type of knot she used—which’ll then guide what I do next. If it’s too complicated of a knot, I’ll have to break the damn bedposts to get free, but if it’s an easy knot, I might be able to lean over and loosen it with my teeth.

Turns out Holly isn’t a Girl Scout, because the knot is nothing special.

I have to pull my left arm so much it strains against the rope keeping it in place while I bend my torso over to get to work. My body’s not the most flexible, but I make up for it in sheer strength. I can hear the bedpost straining with my movement, the old wood creaking as it bends while I finally reach the rope with my teeth.

She could’ve tied me tighter, too. Holly made lots of mistakes here. She might be vengeful and pissed off, but she’s no criminal mastermind.

All it takes is finding the right piece with my teeth for me to loosen the knot enough to wriggle my right wrist free. It doesn’t take me long. Once my right wrist is free I can easily untie my left.

I don’t know how long Holly will pout, and I’m not going to take any chances. When she comes back in here, I’ll be ready.

Once I’m free, I crawl off the bed without making another sound and go to hide against the wall the door is on, half behind the open door. She won’t see me when she walks in, but she will see the unoccupied bed.

Doesn’t matter. It won’t be unoccupied for long.

You’d think killing is a very proactive sport, but most of the time it requires a lot of waiting and patience. Working for the Guild, you learn to do things right, wait until you have the best opportunity. A clean kill. A clean shot. An easy exit. You never rush in blindly, lest you fuck something up. All this to say: I’m good with waiting for Holly to return.

My hands flex as I wait near the door, listening for her footsteps. Every muscle in my body is primed and ready for action, my hangover the last thing on my mind. I’m ready to turn the tables on Holly fucking Cooper.

I don’t know how many minutes pass. Time is a funny thing when you have nothing to do but wait. Eventually I hear the creaking of the wooden floor as Holly comes back. She walks slowly through the cabin, taking her time in returning to the lone bedroom.

She steps foot into the room and immediately sees I’m not where she left me. Two words escape her, “What the—” It’s all she can say, because I lunge for her after that.

Holly hears me, but she’s not as fast as I am. She’s not as good at close combat, so her reaction time doesn’t do her any favors. I come at her from behind and I make short work of her by grabbing the wrist near the knife to keep her from wildly swinging it behind her and wrap my other arm around her neck.

As I yank her small body toward mine she lets out a grunt and a coarse “No!” But it’s too late. She can’t stop me. I have her right where I want her, and with her knife hand held at bay, she’s as good as useless.

I tighten the muscles around her neck, slowing the flow of blood to her brain and making her woozy. She slaps my forearm, but that doesn’t do a thing, and within seconds her slaps become halfhearted. The knife drops from her other hand as her grip weakens. It’s not long at all before she goes limp against me—and it’s only then that I loosen my arm around her neck.

Her unconscious head falls forward. If I step away from her, she’d fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. I… I shouldn’t care to be gentle with her, but that’s exactly what I am as I keep her upright and leaning against me.

Holly has every right to hate me and want me dead. I can’t fault her for that. That night scarred me, made me into the man I am today, so I can only imagine what it was like for her.

I bend over and scoop her up. She’s nothing more than a ragdoll in my arms as I carry her to the bed and tie her up in much the same way she tied me. I do the closest wrist first, and then lean over her body to tie the other.

As I pull away from her, I stare down at her face for a few seconds. Her lips parted, Holly wears a serene look I’m certain she never wears when she’s conscious. This girl… she is what she is today because of me. There’s no denying that.

Fuck. Can’t say I ever thought I’d see her again, let alone in a situation like this.

Staring down at her, I just don’t see a killer. She might want to be one, but she isn’t. I can tell. These things… some people just don’t have it in them. It might be nice to dream of vengeance when you’re full of hatred, but there are just some people in this world who could never kill.

I sigh as I pull away from her. I go to pick up the knife. Its reflective steel shows me nothing but a face of a man I don’t recognize, a face that’s not mine.

I glance at the girl, then back at the knife, at my reflection. I bring a hand to my jawline, running my fingers over my beard. It’s not like I was trying to grow it out on purpose; it just sort of happened because I stopped giving a shit.

Why give a shit when my plan was to end it all this holiday season?

But things aren’t what they should be. I’m not alone here. I don’t think I’ll be walking out that cabin door with the intent on letting the snow have me. Holly royally fucked up my final days.

Shit. Might as well just do it.

While Holly’s unconscious, I take the knife into the bathroom and use it to scrape off the beard clinging to my face. She wants the hitman who killed her family thirteen years ago? She’ll get him.