Vincent Barrington would never see daylight again.
Cole had asked her if she wanted more justice than that. He said he couldn’t make promises, but he would find a way to have Vincent murdered in prison.
She didn’t want that. Death would be too easy. For a man who had lived so extravagantly off the rewards of his corruption, a concrete cell and penal labor would be the worst kind of hell.
Let him rot behind bars.
She treaded to the window and pulled back the curtain, gazing out at the dead lawn and the quiet street beyond. The snow had long melted, taking the trail of blood with it.
“There’s nothing left here but haunting memories,” she murmured.
“Then you need a reminder of the good ones.”
The chair squeaked as Cole stood, drawing her attention. He tapped on the screen of his phone and set it on the table. A moment later, a feminine Irish voice sang from the speaker.
Doo doo doo do, doo doo doo do.
Her sinuses flooded with searing, sticky emotion. Her vision blurred. Gasps rose and fell from her chest. By the time the first tear fell, he was in her arms, holding her, rocking slowly as he sang along with “Ode To My Family” by The Cranberries.
He kissed her softly as she sobbed out the agonies of her heart. He danced with her in the living room where Mike had slept without complaint. He swayed with her in the kitchen where Shannon had made her magical stew. Then he made love to her in the bed where he’d given himself to her completely and irrevocably on Christmas Eve.
He stared into her eyes as he entered her body as if it were the first time. No regrets passed between them as he stroked inside her, taking his pleasure and giving it back with the devotion of his lips.
He would never leave her. Never let her go. She felt that promise as he looked into her eyes, fucked her achingly slow, and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, Cole. Thank you for taking the risk with me.”
“You were worth the risk, Lydia. You made me whole again.”
He made her whole, too.
She’d lost her family, and though they could never be replaced, he’d given her a new one.
They shared a complicated history, but love was their magic ingredient. With a kiss, it annihilated twelve years of revenge and eight years of loneliness. If that wasn’t magic, she didn’t know what was.
Cayman Islands
Two years later
Today was the day. Nervousness might have been a natural response in Cole’s position, but he lived for this shit—the tremor of looming danger, the rush of adrenaline, and the thrill in fighting for something meaningful.
It didn’t get more meaningful than this.
White-crested waves rolled in from the sun-bleached horizon, lapping at his sandaled feet. He strolled along the beach, hands resting in the pockets of his swim shorts as his eyes moved from sand to sunbathers, from cobblestone pathways to crowded beach-side bars.
The panorama captured the essence of a laid-back paradise along with the elegance of a luxury resort. But he wasn’t here to work on his tan.
The warm midday sunshine injected frissons of energy beneath his skin. He was here to keep his eyes open and senses honed, for today, he would see a year-long dream finally come to fruition.
The blue skies were clear as far as he could see. Even the weather smiled on his plans.
Up ahead, a good-looking guy ran down the beach and leaped in a burst of strength, catching a football midair. His cheerleaders jumped from their loungers and clapped their hands, whistling.
As he turned to launch the ball back to the group, he met Cole’s eyes.
Joshua.
He hadn’t always been a gun-toting vigilante. Before Liv, he had a promising future as a professional football player.
His green eyes glinted with his smile. There was no resentment there. No misgivings.
With a nod to Cole, he sent a message.
Nothing was amiss. Everything and everyone was in place.
Cole continued on, strolling toward the group. Liv, Amber, and Van watched as Livana raced toward the spiraling football that Joshua passed back. She missed the catch, laughing at her fumble while her gaze made a furtive sweep of the perimeter.
As the only child of Van and Liv, she had big shoes to fill. But Cole had spent a lot of time training her over the years. She was sharp, fearless, and deadly with a gun.
He ambled past the group, smiling a friendly greeting.
Van sat beside Amber on the lounger, leaning in to tease the string on her bikini top. But like his daughter, his eyes were razor-sharp, probing the surroundings until they landed on Cole.
A toothpick rolled at the corner of Van’s smirk, cocky and chilling.
Scary as fuck.
But Cole trusted him with his life. He trusted all of them.
While Joshua entertained them with his athletic dexterity, they played their parts as clueless vacationers, lounging and soaking up the sun.
No one knew they were killers. Every single one of them. They were a highly-trained, fiercely passionate team of vigilantes, and they were here to take down a multi-national criminal enterprise that catered to pedophiles.
There were one-hundred-and-twenty child predators mingling at the resort, all gathered for an annual convention. On the surface, it was a fun-in-the-sun holiday for business. But what happened after dark behind locked doors was so sick, sadistic, and inhumane that it called for justice without lawyers and trials.
It called for the Freedom Fighters.
When the team received the signal, they would dig their firearms out of the sand and take justice into their own hands.
Cole veered off the beach and headed into the resort, swapping warm oceanic air for air-conditioned breezeways.
He passed through one of the many indoor bars and spotted Luke, Tomas, and Vera at one of the card tables, playing poker with their targets. Handbags sat at their feet, concealing their weapons.
A hand brushed his arm, and he turned his neck, coming face to face with Rylee’s huge silver eyes.
“Hey, handsome.” Her cheeks rose with a smile. “Enjoying your stay?”
“Tremendously. You?”
“Everything’s perfect.” She winked and sauntered off to rejoin the group at the card table.
He crossed through the spa next. Tula, Martin, and Ricky sat in massage chairs, receiving pedicures. Evidently, men did this sort of thing, if he could call their targets men.
Old, fat fucks lounged in the other chairs, talking among themselves as women scrubbed and rubbed their feet. They had no idea they were about to die in those seats after spending their final moments on earth getting their toenails clipped.
Fuck them.
They would never touch another child again.
Ricky looked up, grabbing his gaze and giving him a chin lift. All clear.
Cole continued his perimeter sweep through the halls, his attention flicking to the shadows, to the opened and locked doors, and other possible escape routes. He and the team had scoured the property from end to end and every dark corner in between. This operation was a year in the making, and he didn’t want any surprises.
There were three pool areas with vast spaces for their targets to congregate. He found Matias and Camila sitting at the edge of the first pool.
Camila looked stunning in her red bikini. Her husband, on the other hand, stood out like a douchebag with his floppy sunhat and white sunscreen slathered on his nose.
Fucking ridiculous. But necessary. As the capo of the Restrepo Cartel, he couldn’t risk being recognized.