Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

K age

"Mistakes are made by idiots. Any man who harbors a weakness deserves what he gets."

I'd heard my father say those very words dozens of times while growing up. He was a hard man, a former con who'd done his best to try to make amends to society and to his family, becoming a model citizen. But in my mind, he'd failed. He was nothing but an insufferable bastard who I knew would eventually give into his weaknesses. My mother had sworn he'd turned a corner and he acted as if he adored her.

I didn't buy his shit for one second.

Maybe because he'd always led me to believe I was just like him.

Yeah, well, I'd kind of proved him right after all.

I'd hated him all these years. At least he had provided a decent income for my mother, allowing her to live in a nice house, driving a new car. It was funny thought that he'd shunned me for my supposed crimes when my gut told me he hadn't gotten the extra cash by working to the bone.

He was a shyster and nothing else, always looking for a fast buck.

Okay, so maybe I was pushing it a little, especially since I had no proof. However, the fact his words were burning in my mind at this moment meant I'd held some belief in what he was saying.

Or maybe it was solely because I'd allowed my guard to fall so far that it had taken me disappearing to try to keep it from flying into the abyss. Because of Noel.

I'd heard men's weaknesses called kryptonite and had laughed like they really were idiots. But the truth was impossible to ignore.

She was my kryptonite.

Damn the woman for having a voluptuous body, eyes that could pierce the heart and soul of any man. And a lilting voice that had remained with me long after she spoke even a single word. I shifted my feet on the ottoman, easing back into the chair. I had her book in one hand, a whiskey in the other. The fire in the stone fireplace was blazing and I was miles from civilization with enough food and booze to keep me happy for a solid month.

What the fuck could be better?

I'd been smart to hire a caretaker for my cabin in the woods, the guy paying close attention to details. I'd already wired him a bonus since from the moment I'd stepped foot inside the front door, it was as if I'd never left. He'd even purchased a few items he'd thought I'd needed, whiskey one of them.

Eventually, I'd need to get to my grandfather's cabin and investigate if I wanted to keep or sell the place. But for now, it was nestled away in a little house still in the valley, a location no one knew about, and in my mind, that was worth its weight in gold.

Just in case.

I wasn't the kind of man to constantly look over my shoulder, but I doubted Saldono Rinaldi wanted my freedom shouted to the world. We would see. As of the last week since I'd been paroled, I'd had no phone calls and no suspicious sightings. For now, I was snug as a bug in a rug, or so my mother used to say as she tucked me in at night.

What I found utterly fascinating about Noel's book was that it was easy for a brutal man like me to immerse myself in her world. I could slide into the killer's mind easily, becoming his eyes as he stalked his prey. I'd become more and more curious about what had obviously happened to her, although I'd yet to find anything concrete.

That's why I'd called a buddy of mine, a man still on the right side of the law, although some would say otherwise. While in my heyday I'd had people to hack into various computer systems, or I could do it myself, the time spent behind bars had changed everything. So I'd called in the expert, the man owing me more than a single favor.

Mostly because I'd saved his scrawny life not once but twice.

I had to think about developing a plan, trying to figure out who I could trust and who I should stay away from. That was daunting in itself given everyone was hiding something, so many people selling their souls for money or clout.

As I read a couple more pages, I found my mind floating to the fear I'd seen in her eyes more than once. Whatever had occurred had altered her vision of the world to the point she was close to becoming a hermit. Yes, I understood an author's life was solitary, but she truly didn't enjoy being out in public. That was easy to tell. I was thankful she had Max. The furry guy had turned out to be a godsend to two people. Hell, maybe he was a real angel.

I laughed softly and when I heard my phone, I was surprised. Getting reception where I was located deep in the heart of a thick forest only occurred when the moon was full, the sky was clear, and the leprechauns were working overtime. I chuckled as I placed the book on the ottoman, rising to my feet.

Even walking to the phone was a reminder of her. I'd wanted to call Noel so many times. I'd known what would happen if I did and in truth, she was much better off without me.

As soon as I grabbed the phone, I grinned. Maybe Kyle had come through.

"Kyle Tatum. As I live and breathe," I said by way of greeting.

"Cut the crap, Kage," he grumbled.

"It's nice to hear from you too."

"As if I had any other choice. You're a bastard. Do you know that?"

"So I've been told more than once. Did you find something?"

Kyle hesitated. "This is a fucked-up case, buddy. Parts of it are sealed not only because information is being used for the trial since the fucker was finally caught but the lone survivor still has a target on her back. Why they didn't put her in full WITSEC is beyond me other than she's a famous author. She did leave her hometown and from what I understand, neither her address nor her car registration is on the books. She changed her last name but Christ, a four-year-old who knows his way around a computer could find it. From what I can tell, the Feds pulled some strings for her. But I can't believe she went on book tours and shit when that guy was still out there."

"Most serial killers will move on by then. They don't want to get caught and whoever this fuck is knew it was a possibility if he went after her again. Plus, book signings are very public. And some victims refuse to play that their entire lives."

"Sounds like you know a little too much about serial killers."

My hackles immediately raised. Fuck. Fuck. "Who is this fuck and what did he do?"

His snort was full of disgust. "Bad shit, man. I've seen and read about some fucked-up shit in my time with the FBI, but this dude takes the cake. His name is James Jones. Otherwise known as the Claw. He abducted like nine women, taking them to a deserted group of buildings in one of those dying little towns where no one pays any attention to shit. He caged them, hung up by the rafters, torturing them for days, weeks, months at a time, before using a makeshift claw to cut them to ribbons."

"And one woman escaped."

"Yeah, against all fucking odds since she was hurt, bleeding, weak from lack of food, and miles away from anyone. I'll give her credit. She found a weapon and spiked him a couple times. Too bad he lived. Hopefully she is living a happy little life after all this time."

"So where does the author's work come into the case?"

"Did I say that?" Kyle huffed.

"You implied it."

"You haven't read much of her shit, have you?"

Sighing, I glanced toward the novel. "On the first book now. Just talk. It's all going to come out in the trial anyway."

"Well, that author has a sick imagination if you ask me. Her book was almost a dead copy to what the asshole did. The only difference was his methods of torturing and killing were his particular brand of disgusting. Still, some smart reporter got wind of it having read Ms. Young's work, exposing certain passages, including giving a hint to where the girls might have been kept. I think that helped with the investigation but not soon enough the other women were saved. Sick fuck. I tell you what."

"This dude was arrested."

"Yes, not long ago. He's under lockdown with no chance for parole but it's going to be a shit storm when he goes to trial. At least the woman is safe. Now, why the hell did you call in a favor for this shit?"

"I have my reasons, Kyle. Just keep our conversation very private."

"You keep your trap shut too. I like my job. What I owe you is over."

I laughed and headed back to my drink. "Not so fast, my friend. You have one more left before you can be considered a free man."

"Just be mindful of what I do, Kage. As I said, I will not lose my job because you saved my life."

"Do I need to remind you that I saved your daughter's life as well?"

The silence meant he was reliving the horrible moment when Saldono's men were about to pull the trigger, killing the little girl. It was one of those things I couldn't allow to happen. No matter what a man had done in his life, the horrible deeds he'd performed, no innocent woman or child deserved to die in their place.

"No, you don't."

"How is she doing?" This time I placed the glass on the mantel. I'd need to add at least a piece of wood before settling back down for the night.

His tone suddenly changed. "She's in high school. Can you believe it? I am pulling my hair out."

"I bet you are. I do appreciate the information. It stays between you and me."

"I'll hold you to that, buddy. I'll email you some backup details but as I said, most of it is locked down. Do not fucking share it. Period."

"Whatever you have is fine and for my eyes only." As I ended the call, I took a deep breath. At least the guy was behind bars.

For now.

I tossed another log into the fire before returning to my comfy perch. I could enjoy reading the rest of the book knowing she was safe.

I'd devoured every book inside the joint, even fucking romance novels. They'd kept my mind active and calmed the beast inside. As I read this story, I realized more and more monsters did exist. I'd considered myself one over the years.

Although I'd had my reasons.

Good ones.

The whiskey was tasting good, but I had to admit, not nearly as amazing as the sweet taste of Noel. Shit. I had to get her off my mind. I'd crossed every line, so much so the risk would remain for a long time.

Not that I regretted a single moment.

Although the ice storm had been completely unexpected.

Ping.

Instantly, I snapped my head to the left. While there were a few branches outside far too close to the house, the wind causing them to scratch the wood during a windstorm, there was limited wind on this night. Instantly, I turned out the single light, retreating to my bedroom where I kept two duffel bags full of weapons and ammunition. I'd had them locked down in a bunker prior to my arrest, knowing the fucking cops would search my house for evidence.

They hadn't found any, not that the lack of a literal smoking gun had prevented them from railroading me into a prison term. I pulled out two weapons, a handgun and a small assault rifle. The moment I loaded a magazine into the chamber of the Beretta, I heard a creaking sound.

It would appear someone was hovering just outside on the back deck.

I quickly armed the rifle, sliding an additional magazine into the pocket of my jeans. On second thought, I grabbed my favorite hunting knife, the weapon that had served me quite well over the years, shoving it into my pocket. You never had enough weapons when you were under attack.

As I shifted to the window, I remained just to the side, peering outside. There were outside lights and while the moon was bright, the drifting shadows of light only added eerie shadows and nothing else.

But my sixth sense had already kicked in. There was more than one person outside my cabin and if I had to guess, I'd say they were here to end my life. Maybe I should take up gambling after all.

Other than the windows, there were two ways in and two ways out. Given where the cabin was located, I wasn't in the habit of locking the doors. Maybe after tonight, when I eradicated the additional scum from the earth, I'd change my mind.

Not that a locked door in any way deterred bad men. That included me.

I snapped the rifle's holster over my shoulder and held the handgun in both hands, moving with stealth and precision to the end of the hall. Even the soothing strains of Beethoven had no effect on my keen hearing. I could hear a freaking pin drop in the snow.

That ability had kept me alive over the years.

As I stood at the end of the hallway, I did what I could to keep my patience intact. The single noise indicated the front door had been opened. It was only a matter of seconds before the back door was infiltrated as well.

At least I had the benefit of knowing the lay of the cabin, able to maneuver around the furniture as necessary.

I darted my head from the shadows, easily detecting at least three men. Without any hesitation, I crouched down, still having a perfect line of sight to the front door. The moment the assholes walked inside, I didn't hesitate, firing off three solid rounds.

They dropped like flies, but I knew there were more of them. Another cracking sound came from the back door and I lunged forward and rolled, catching one more asshole in the chest. I preferred a head or heart shot but sometimes I took what I could get.

A strange sound filtered into my eardrums not once but twice and it took me a few seconds to distinguish what the hell I was hearing.

Two windows had been compromised.

Fuck.

An entire small army had been sent. They were coming at me from all sides. The only saving grace was that my truck was hidden in a way no one would know where it was. I'd designed a hiding space that could easily be overlooked. I might need to abandon ship, although that wasn't the way I handled my business at all. Still, I did want to live.

I raced toward the kitchen, keeping low to the floor. The moment hairs stood up on the back of my neck, I froze, shifting to face the other side.

But it was too late.

Several brutal punches were driven into my face and gut and while I dropped, I was still in motion, able to jump to my feet and fire off four shots. I hit at least two of the bastards, which allowed me to race toward the front door.

Too little too late.

One of the goons cracked his weapon across my face, sending my handgun flying from my hands.

Stars floated in front of my eyes, impeding my vision just long enough I was grabbed by two of the soldiers. They dragged me toward the center of the room, ripping the rifle from me.

All was quiet for a solid two minutes. A trickle of blood was oozing down my face against my lips, beads of perspiration stinging my eyes. It had been a long time since I'd handled a full-frontal attack.

While blinking, trying to focus to get my bearings, I noticed one asshole dressed in all black standing staring at the fire. It took me only a few seconds to recognize the fuck as the man who'd killed Saldono's firstborn son, the one I'd taken the blame for murdering. In my false sense of loyalty, I'd believed I was protecting Saldono and his family. What a crock of shit.

He finally turned around and I laughed. "Domingo Rodriguez. I should have known." The son of a bitch had been the other man with Antonio, Gio, and I on that fateful night. If I'd known the man's complete loyalty was with Gio, I'd have kept my guard up back then.

A sharp grin remained on his face as he headed in my direction, taking a deep breath as soon as he was only inches away.

"I thought the cockroaches ate you one day for breakfast," I continued, still sizing up what I was dealing with. Unless there were additional soldiers waiting outside, there were only three plus Domingo remaining. The odds of survival were looking better and better.

The savage blow across my face made my ears ring and my jaw ache. I shifted it back and forth, taking a few deep breaths of my own.

"You're in no position to have a say about anything," Domingo hissed. "You killed Saldono's son. No amount of time behind bars will make up for that."

"You and I know better," I said calmly. "You killed the young man because of greed and your lust for power."

He crouched down in front of me, shaking his head ever so slowly. "As if Saldono would believe you."

"I saved his skin."

"No, you killed his son. It's funny how memories can change over the years, especially when strong and very viable solutions are offered."

When I'd come into Saldono's operation, I'd been green as they came. All I'd had was uncontrollable rage and the urge to slice and dice. Saldono had assigned Domingo to be my mentor. His brutal teachings on the ways of crime syndicates had been painful but necessary. I'd even considered him a friend at one point. But I'd seen the writing on the wall, which was what had prompted me to try to talk to Saldono the day of his son's murder.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

Plus, I'd trusted the wrong people. After that, I'd learned never to trust again.

"Fuck you, asshole. Saldono will learn the truth."

All I needed to do was to get to my knife. The idiots had made a mistake not frisking me. They obviously had forgotten I used to always carry at least two at all times. Sometimes the up close and personal kills were the best.

I did love my blood and gore.

"Did you really think you were going to be allowed to live? You were just lucky you weren't killed in prison."

"I should have known you were behind the attempts inside the prison. What a shame you sent in pussies."

"Well, you're right about that, which is why I changed my decision on what to do with you. Do you remember learning that a single weakness could be a man's downfall?" His laugh was as evil as the man as he held up a single finger in front of his face. In the fireplace light, his eyes appeared pitch black just like his cold, dead soul.

"You can have the whiskey. Call it a gift."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, no, my friend. You see, I've had men watching you since the day you got out of prison."

While I didn't react, every muscle tensed. "Yeah, so what?"

"So, it would seem you've developed a little crush on a woman already. You work fast. Then again, she is the woman who has your dog."

Over the years I'd learned patience because it had worked to my benefit and that of the people I'd gone to work for. I'd needed the lesson in keeping my fucking cool since all I'd wanted to do was to burn down the world after my horrific loss.

Fortunately, I'd realized quickly that the violence and hatred would never bring them back. I'd become a cold and calculated killer still capable of doing vile things but much better at my job.

But this time, this moment, the old me resurfaced, the rush of adrenaline was unlike any other time in my life.

It was as if I had superhuman power. I was certain my memory wouldn't serve me well when I looked back on the carnage I'd created.

None of that mattered as I took another deep breath, using the few seconds Domingo truly believed he'd gotten one over on me, laughing like a banshee. Without any issue, I rose to my feet, tossing the two men holding me back by several feet as if they were nothing but ragdolls.

The knife was suddenly in my hand and I lunged at the closest asshole, easily slicing through his carotid artery. The second I kicked hard with my boot, sending him flying across the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Domingo finally reacting, reaching for his weapon. I dropped and rolled toward my handgun, yanking it into my hands as I rolled onto my back, firing off three shots in a row.

Now there was one.

Without hesitation, I rolled again just as Domingo managed to get off a shot. Shit exploded off my coffee table, glass shards from my mother's beautiful bowl she'd sent me flying everywhere. The fucker would pay for that one.

Domingo was close to my size, enough so when we'd sparred all those years ago, we'd been equally matched. While I'd bulked up in prison, it would seem he'd allowed himself to live more of the good life including excesses. The man had grown soft.

That allowed me to kick him hard in the gut, sending him flying. Sadly, I'd underestimated his marksman skills, which before had been subpar at best. He fired a shot and if I hadn't shifted just by a few inches, he would have caught me in the heart. As it was, anguish tore through me from the grazing on my shoulder. While only a flesh wound, the pain and trajectory was just enough I was thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of me.

Through the fog that formed across my eyes, I was able to see Domingo in silhouette as he recovered, heading right for me to take another shot.

I managed to lift my weapon, but my fucking arm was shaking because of the injury. I fired off two, one hitting the fuck definitely, the other going wide. He was down yet still breathing. I fought with the anguish to crawl toward him but to the man's credit, he struggled to his feet first. Instead of issuing a killing shot, he fled out the door, leaving it wide open.

Using every ounce of strength I had, I lumbered toward the door, able to make it outside. It was too late, the sound of tires crunching down on the gravel driveway filtering into my ears.

I took several scattered breaths before collapsing onto the deck.

This changed everything.

Including the fact I couldn't leave Noel alone. They would come for her to get to me.

That wasn't going to happen.