Page 69 of Making the King

Quietly, we move into single file, stepping onto the dock. I turn back to Cara and press my finger to my lips, signaling to stay quiet, and she gives me a nod, taking my gestured instruction easily.

Most of the boats at this end of the marina are smaller, except for the one our targets are on.

The vessel sticks out like a sore thumb, owned by a pompous banker from San Francisco. And tonight, he’s entertaining two of his old college buddies, while their wives tend to their children back in the city.

If only the pompous banker knew that his wife was on to him after hiring a private investigator. And well, once they figured out the truth, she asked her investigator to take care of it and make sure he suffers.

Naturally, they reached out to us to take care of that part.

Creeping onto the boat at the end of the dock, we move carefully to make sure the vessel doesn’t rock too much as we step on and alert them to our presence.

After helping Cara onboard, I keep one hand linked with hers and the other holding my gun as I survey the empty cabin. The lights are off up here, but light filters from below deck, and as soon as I crack open the glass sliding door we hear music, male laughter and female sobbing coming up the stairwell.

“Me and Munroe will go to the bow,” Cain whispers, any hint of mischief gone from his face. I nod, knowing after we studied the plans for the boat, that there is below deck access from each end.

Cara shuffles from side to side, most likely from nerves, and once I see Cain and Munroe round the corner at the bow, I nod at Stretch.

“Gun ready,” I whisper before turning my sights to Cara. “Stay behind us, and don’t do anything unless we give you permission. Got it?”

She nods, cheeks flushed with both excitement and anger at the noises coming from below deck. She’s not stupid. She knows those noises. She knows exactly what’s being done to that poor girl.

One by one we storm down the stairs, timing it well as Cain and Munroe enter at the other end, and the overweight fuckers with round bellies and not a stitch of clothing, still, like a deer caught in headlights.

The girl, probably no older than fourteen, sobs, her wrists and ankles bound to a daybed, her body completely bare and exposed with one of those sick cunts, who’s at least in his fifties, still buried inside her.

“Get out!” he yells, and as I drag my gaze over the three men, he is definitely our intended target.

The other two men are collateral, since we can’t leave them alive for this crime.

I hear Cara move before I see her try to barge past me, and I whip my arm out to stop her.

“Don’t forget my orders, Killer.” I growl low, not wanting to draw attention to her. “You stay behind us until I give you permission.”

“Give me permission now.” She snarls through clenched teeth, her eyes trained on the scene before us.

“Not yet.”

Her heated gaze is locked on the man buried inside the girl, and I get it. She wants to save her. Wants to make this man suffer. And she will, in good time.

“While love bug and his woman argue, how about you sick fuckers tell us who you purchased tonight’s entertainment from?” Cain suggests, twirling his shotgun around like he’s in a fucking parade twirling a baton.

“None of your business.” The old fart slipping his now limp dick from the girl snaps, and even though I shouldn’t be looking, I notice the oozing white substance tinged with blood that follows his dick out. “This is my boat, and I demand you leave!”

I chuckle. “Did you hear that Cain? He demands we leave.”

“I fucking heard it.” Cain does a spin on the spot, still fucking twirling his shotgun.

“What do you think, Killer?” I glance down at my wife. “Should we leave because he demanded it?”

“Well, I mean, if he demanded it then…” Cara smirks sinisterly, falling into the role like a fucking queen.

I glance back at our target and let my grin fall from my face. “I don’t think so, asshole.”

“You have no right to be here.” One of his buddies cuts in, and I shake my head.

“Oh, we are definitely trespassing. Maybe you should call the cops. Let them come here and decide who the real criminals are.”

The man pales, and number three tries to make a run for it, but Cain slips his foot out, tripping the man, who then face plants with a thud as he cries out.

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