“I’m her goddamn boyfriend.” I was her boyfriend. Was.
The asshole assistant smirked. “Sanaa didn’t say she had a boy—”
I slammed my left elbow back, hitting the assistant dead center in the face, then I drove my right fist into the manager’s jaw.
The assistant dropped, the manager’s head snapped back, and Sanaa screamed.
Rage-fueled adrenaline flooding my veins, breathing fucking fury, my first two strikes started a chain reaction.
“If you…” I drove my fist into the manager’s face again. “Fucking…” Slam. “Touch.” Slam. “Her.” Slam. “I will…” Slam. “KILL YOU.”
Blow after blow, I didn’t stop.
Blood, screams, breaking cartilage, feet kicking, fists pummeling, I didn’t fucking stop. I didn’t hear Sanaa crying that someone was dead. I didn’t hear Vance come up behind me. I didn’t stop hitting the bloodied, motionless would-be rapist even after he hit the ground.
I just kept fucking swinging.
Until heavy arms locked around my chest from behind and jerked me back. “Stop.” The arms tightened. “Fucking stop or you’ll kill both of them.”
Dropping my weight, turning in to him, I drove my elbow back into his ribs before slamming my shoulder into his solar plexus.
Grunting, Vance dropped his hold.
“Oh dear God, no,” Sanaa sobbed.
My gaze cut to her.
Kneeling on the ground, her hand on the assistant’s neck, she looked up at me and her face twisted with horror. “He’s dead.”
“Jesus Christ.” Vance shook his head, then looked at me with disgust. “Leave.”
I glanced at the bloodied fucking manager lying prone.
“I said leave.” Vance shoved me in the chest.
My gaze cut to the assistant, and I knew my career in the Marines was over before it’d started.
“Goddamn it, Ronan, you deploy tomorrow. Get the fuck out of here before the cops or, worse, the MPs show up. I’ll handle this.” Reaching in his pocket, he withdrew a wad of cash and thrust it at a crying Sanaa. “Get a hotel room and fucking disappear until I call you.”
Sanaa stared at the cash. I stared at the dead man.
“Now,” Vance yelled.
Flinching, Sanaa grabbed the money and scrambled to her feet.
Then she ran.
Staring after her, I had to force my feet to stay put. “I’m not leaving.”
Pulling his phone out, Vance eyed me. “You’ve got a choice. Stand there, be pissed at me and throw your life away.” His gaze dropping to his phone, he started to dial. “Or fucking leave.”
I stood there.
My twin tipped his chin toward the dead man as he held the phone to his ear. “You think that piece of shit is worth losing your future over?”
I’d already lost my future.
Vance snorted. “Then again, if you’re going to find religion every time you see a dead asshole, then maybe you shouldn’t be in the Marines.” His call connected, and he turned his back.
I’d wanted to be a Marine for as long as I could remember.
Before her. Before this. Before I knew what I was capable of.
She cleared the corner and disappeared from sight.
His phone to his ear, Vance glanced over his shoulder and threw me a final warning. “Last chance.”
I selfishly turned and walked away in the other direction.
Mentally shaking myself out of the memory, I scanned the garage again.
Then I told Luna a truth I’d never spoken about. “Abernathy should’ve targeted me.” The next morning after that night ten years ago, I was on a transport heading downrange when I’d gotten a two-word text from my brother. Problem’s handled. But Vance had lied. The problem hadn’t been handled. Kyle Abernathy was still alive.
Luna turned in his seat to look at me. “Because?”
“I’m the one who beat the fuck out of him at that party,” I admitted. “I killed his assistant.”
“Jesucristo.” Luna leaned back in his seat. “Do I want to know why?”
Pick a reason. “Abernathy was a predator. His assistant was worse.” I was out of my mind. “Abernathy got Sanaa to sign a contract, then told me he was going to ‘break her in’ before his assistant said they were going to pass her around the Trinity executives so they could all get a taste of her. She was seventeen. She was my girlfriend. I was deploying the next morning. In a rage, I threw my elbow into the assistant’s face before going after Abernathy. Killing the assistant wasn’t intentional.”
“Dios mio,” Luna muttered. “And you’re just now telling me this?”
I didn’t answer. There was no point.
Luna scrubbed a hand over his face. “How come you weren’t charged?”
“Vance. He said he’d handled it.” I’d stupidly taken him at his word.
Luna muttered another curse in Spanish. “Fucking pedophile should’ve been taken out, but you’re telling me that ten years ago, Vance handled covering up all of that on his own?” he asked skeptically.
I watched two vehicles pull in that could be potential threats. Everything was a fucking threat now. The first car pulled into a space, and the second drove to the bank of elevators. A woman wearing a straw hat got out of the back seat, and the car took off.
I looked at Luna. “Vance was the one renting that house.”
Exhaling, Luna scrubbed a hand over his face. “Madre de Dios.”
Vance walked into the suite with a strained smile. “You rang, love?”
I glanced at the time on my cell.
Twenty-two minutes left.
“We don’t have much time. Ronan’s going to be here in twenty minutes.” He used to always be early when we were younger. I was betting that hadn’t changed.
Vance frowned. “I don’t think now’s the time to—”
“I’m not talking about that.” I waved my hand dismissively through the air. I’d already decided I was done sparring with him. As much as I loved the release and the feeling of barely harnessed control, I would have to find some sort of normal exercise like a sane person. Like a stupid treadmill. Or something.
Vance’s phone rang, and he pulled it out to glance at the screen. His frown deepened.
“I think Ronan knows it’s Abernathy,” I blurted. “We have to find him now. Before Ronan does.”
Vance looked up. “We don’t even know for sure if it’s him.”
“Who else could it be? We banked this whole trip on it being him. It makes sense.”
Inhaling, Vance let it out slow. Then his placating tone came out. “Sanaa. We suspect it’s him. We tracked his movements up until Venezuela five months ago. It’s a known hotspot for plastic surgery, and we’re making all the right assumptions, but no one on the tour has a passport with a Venezuelan stamp in the past five months, and we’re coming up empty everywhere else.”
“But you yourself said we didn’t check all the cleaning crews at the venues or vendors, or local staff at every stop on the tour. Just because we couldn’t find a passport coinciding with where we think he was, doesn’t mean it isn’t him.”