Page 83 of Mercenary
“And friends. She killed one of them. Three others knocked her silly then took her.”
“Four men?”
“Five. I terminated the last one.”
Madelyn gasps. I glare at her, silencing her.
Hayden quietly listens on the other end.
“Orders?”
There’s another long pause—typical—before he responds. “Find her. Question the men about Novák’s whereabouts, then terminate them and bring her to me. I’m away on business but will be back by the end of the week. Report in then. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“And the sister?”
Fuck me. No way he’d heard her. Yet my head’s swimming. It begins with a low ringing sound, like the hum of a swarm of hornets off in the distance. Slowly growing in volume, causing my mind to grow numb. Cold. Like those same freaking hornets decided to simultaneously sting me, injecting enough poison to dull my senses. A form of self-defense, self-preservation.
“Answer me. The sister?”
He’ll use her to manipulate you. Just like he’d used Kylie to manage Jaxson. He doesn’t know shit.
“Dead.”
25
Madelyn
Iwiggle my toes free of my sandals, wearily focusing on the carefree sensation as I fight back my panic. I’ve been sitting on a neatly made twin bed covered in a patchwork quilt someone has lovingly sewn together, twiddling my toes ever since Declan kicked open the bedroom door, shoved me and my duffel bag inside, then left me, locking the door behind him.
The toe trick doesn’t help.
My pain is like a yearlong sun shower, sporadically sprinkling down on me and soaking me to the bone when I least expect it. Yet my throat remains dry. Tight. It’s been that way since the ride from Shelby to this isolated ranch located on the edge of town.
Everything I know has been a lie. Luciana with her “I’m looking for a roommate, too” act. Declan and my naive, misplaced hero worship of him. And Kylie.
Oh my God, Kylie.
She fought five men. Shot three while giving me very specific instructions how to fire on the fourth. We almost escaped, except the fifth man—the one Declan took care of—put a knife to my throat, which stopped Kylie cold. She was breathing when they dragged her from the motel room. Knocked unconscious after being hit over the head with the butt of a gun. Yet he didn’t shoot her. Is Declan right? They want her alive?
If only the man with all the answers would open the door. Tell me she’s trained for this, that she’ll be okay. That this is par for the course in their line of work—whatever the heck that is. I wished that he’d talk to me. Reassure me.
Comfort me.
Remember who you’re dealing with, Madelyn.
I flex the big toe on my right foot. Thinking of my options and knowing that with each passing hour, the chances of finding my sister grow slimmer and slimmer.
An unbearable, unacceptable thought.
Everyone has a boiling point. I tend to be stronger than most people. Patient and hopeful things will work out once the dust settles. A coping mechanism I first fully realized after my father’s murder. With Mama so fragile and my sister too angry, I became the anchor keeping us all grounded. A calming force. A gentle hand. No, not many people have survived riding along shotgun with danger and death and still remain hopeful that everything will be better in the end.
But damn it.
I suck in a breath.
Damn. It.
