Page 47 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

Sliding into the corner behind the door, I make ready to knock him to the ground the second he enters. With my back against the wall and my fist clenched and ready, I listen as a key slides into the lock. Waiting for him to turn the knob felt like an eternity, just like it had when I’d gone over to John Forrester's condo to explain what I knew.

I expected him to demand all the facts behind what I had planned. However, as he stood with his arms crossed, the soothing sounds of music rising from hidden speakers, I saw the face of a man who loved Kennedy as much as I did.

"Sir, I know I’ll be taking a huge risk in her finding out what I'm about to do, but I have to make this monster go away. I know if he’s left on the streets, he'll be another number in the game. Kennedy will be looking over her shoulder nearly every second of every day and questioning every man who passes her on the street. I can't let that happen to her, she deserves more."

John had looked at the floor; his hands resting on his dress pant covered hips. "I don't want to know your plans, ignorance is bliss. I won't lie to my daughter, not anymore, but you're right, she deserves the best of things our money can't buy." He moved to the business side of his desk and picked up his reading glasses. "You make certain the son of a bitch doesn't see the light of another day."

Shaking hands with John that night had done more than signal the meeting of the minds. It was the beginning of a new relationship, a turn in the road. My plan was set. I was risking everything, including the future I had planned with Kennedy. Her safety and reassurance were more important than anything to me. Even if she found doubt in me, time would restore her trust.

The door creaked open, groaning in protest of the movement, much like an aging man getting out of a chair. Reaper didn't give him time to reach the switch on the wall as he grabbed his arm and yanked him into the room, tossing him to the dirty floor.

"What the fuck?" Ethan tried to stand; long enough for me kick his knee, sending him crying to the floor once again.

“What do you want?” He cried as he held his leg. I ignored his question and the pain in his voice as I drew back and kicked him three more times. Reaching down, I grabbed him by the back of the neck, tossing him onto the bed not two feet away.

“You’ve got the wrong guy! I ain’t done nothing to anyone.”

Stepping over to the desk where his computer sat, I switched the lamp on, causing Ethan to squint from the light filling the dark room. “No motherfucker, we’ve got the right one.” I pointed to the girls on his screen. The number of pictures multiplied, women all tied up and dead at the hands of this bastard.

Ethan tries to get out of the bed, scrambling to reach the computer and its contents. “You’ve got no right to look at them.” Reaper shoves him back on the bed, his head hitting the headboard. “They’re mine, you can't have them!”

Walking over in three heavy steps, I pull Ethan up by the hair at the top of his head. “And her?” I shake him, pointing to the wall covered in photos of Kennedy. “She isn't fucking yours, she’s my girl.” Tossing him back against the headboard, hoping to fuck I crack his skull.

Ethan is either on something or stupid as fuck, as he tries to scramble to his feet. "Sit down, motherfucker." Reaper plants his boot in his chest, preventing him from rising again.

Ethan's eyes are wide and he gasps for air, like a fish out of water. "You fucked with the wrong girl, my friend."

Ethan slumps back, a trickle of blood rolling down from his nose. This sliver of blood is only the beginning of what he is about to shed. “Tell me, Ethan. Did you move across the country after all of these girls or is Kennedy special?” He leans over, spitting a wad of red to the dingy carpet, ignoring my question, just as I had his. “Or did she not succumb to your charms, preferring a southern gentleman to a seasoned killer?”

“You can talk all you want, hit me as many times as you feel man enough, but at the end of the day we both know any decent attorney will get me off with a twenty minute psychological test. You and Scarface here can hold me until the cops arrive, they’ll see the pictures and decide I have to be a sick individual. Without a body, there’s no way a jury will ever convict me. And maybe I’ll go to jail for a little while, show the powers that be I’m a changed man, and they let me out. Guess what I’ll do then?” His body quakes with his silent laughter. “I’ll find Kennedy, and this time, I won’t wait to have a sample of her.”

He expects me to hit him, his muscles tightening in anticipation, but I have other ideas. It’s time to give him a taste of what those poor girls went through. “Cut his clothes off, Reaper. Time to teach this fucker a lesson.”

I walk back to the computer, “He’s right about not having any bodies to charge him with those murders.” Perusing the many innocent faces of the women he has killed. Ethan Porter may be as American as I am, but it doesn’t separate him in my mind from Aarash or any of his men who preyed on the innocence of his own people.

“What was it you said earlier about my lack of training in knowing your call sign?” Austin’s voice interrupts my disappointment in giving the families of these ladies the closure they deserve. “With us working together in the future, try and remember there isn't much I can’t pull from a computer.” Maps and grid markers begin popping up on the screen. “Here’s the location of every young lady who died at the hands of Ethan Porter.”

Reaper has Ethan naked and in the bathtub, water covering three quarters of his body, a washcloth shoved in his mouth to silence his screams. At least thirty girls died at his hand, and he would feel a level of pain for each life he took. During SEAL training, I learned more than how to function as a team, and hold my breath for five minutes. I gained the skills to get information out of someone, especially when they weren't too keen on giving it to me.

“I’m assuming you raped each of those girls? Bastards like you think you can take what you want and not care what happens to your victim.” I grabbed a wire hanger dangling on the back of the bathroom door, twisting off the top hook to deliver the first dose of pain. Reaching down into the water, I grabbed his dick in my gloved hand, shoving the metal into the slit of his flaccid cock. “How many of those girls were virgins, saving themselves for their wedding night?” Ethan thrashed about, spilling some of the water onto the floor. I made sure the hook disappeared into his flesh, rupturing his bladder in the process.

“Alice Bennett, eighteen, has a burn mark on her left shoulder. It looks to have been inflicted just prior to her death.” Austin's voice holds an eerie calm, considering the line of work Diesel said he did.

Reaper picks up the discarded remnants of the hanger, bends it, and then places it under the flame of his lighter. Pressing Ethan's head against the tub, he jams the red hot metal into one of his nostrils. “How do you like that? Smells real good, huh?”

“Lori Stone disappeared on her twenty first birthday. She had gotten engaged the weekend before—to a Marine.” Reaper and I shared a look. We would never know the name of this marine, but it didn't matter, Ethan would feel his grief. I pulled the two bottles from the pack on my back, being careful to mix them in the proper order. “Open his mouth and shove this in there.” Handing the tube to Reaper.

“Did you follow her home from the bar, lie to her and say you wanted to help her?” Pouring the acid into the funnel, I watched Ethan's eyes as it entered his mouth and began to burn. Giving him the Havoc cocktail would limit the pain he would feel, given what he had inflicted on those girls. “Start reading off each of those names, Keys.”

As he read each name, Reaper and I repeated them, and then slashed his skin with our knifes. When the last name was set free, the water in the tub is clouded red with his blood, our mission complete.

Reaper cleaned up all the evidence of our visit, turning up the volume of the television so security would be called to investigate. By the looks of the room, it had been a while since the cleaning crew had even stepped foot inside. I almost felt bad for the poor bastard who found him several hours from now, his death a guarantee. Reaper’s final check was to Porter's carotid. "Welcome to Hell, Motherfucker."

***

I knew Kennedy had been to my house the second I walked in the darkened door. I could smell the faint scent of her perfume still lingering inside.

The sun would be up any minute and I hoped she was still fast asleep. Deep down, I knew she was as awake as I was, her imagination of why I hadn't been home running like wild fire. Wondering about the strange girl she had found in my kitchen, according to Rayne. I knew I stood a good chance of losing her. There was a real possibility she wouldn't accept my explanation, the only one I would give her.

The exhaustion of my night reared its ugly head, but I knew sleep would not be found until I was able to speak with Kennedy. Just as I was about to head over to her apartment, my cell phone chimed with a text message. I sent a silent prayer before looking at the screen; my heart sank as I read the message sent from John.

Good luck, she just showed up. Taking my girl out for the day.

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