CHAPTER 11
DREW
I’d tracked and killed men before without fear, but right now, all I felt was fear. It wasn’t hard to figure out where my trepidation was born; it was with Lola. I feared for her safety. If anything happened to her, I’m not sure what I would do, but it wouldn’t be pretty; it would include lots of pain, blood, and death. I couldn’t fail . . . I wouldn’t fail. I felt no remorse for the life I was about to take; it wouldn’t remain a heavy weight on my shoulders. The men after Lola needed to die. If I didn’t kill them, they would kill her, and that was unacceptable.
Disappearing into the thick brush was as easy as breathing. I’d fought and killed in many places: deserts so hot and dry even your saliva seemed to evaporate; crumbling cities riddled with bombs and bullets; and jungles infested with lethal insects and even deadlier traps. I’d been a boy when I had first seen Rambo, and the thought of sliding through mud and scaling trees with a bowie knife strapped to my thigh and a gun in my hand was as thrilling to me as high adrenaline sports might be to another. I’d quickly discovered the reality of tracking someone mostly sucked. I had spent endless hours lying in wait for enemies who didn’t show, and bogged down in skirmishes where bullets raced by my head and bombs rattled my teeth. But the hardest part of being a soldier was the death; the comrades who were slain at my side, men as good as brothers who lost their limbs or their lives. The aftermath of death was almost as ugly as death itself. It was one of the reasons I stepped away from life as a ranger, which led to being a hired gunman. At least I could pick my jobs and allow myself to think I had some sort of nobility about what I did. All those fantasies of nobility died the moment I took a job working for the Russian arms dealer, Alexander Toporov, my new boss’s stepfather. A day didn’t go by where I didn’t thank Braiden for getting me out of my life with Toporov and offering me a position with Montgomery Security. My life had become more focused on saving lives rather than taking them.
This mission had seen me make two kills so far, and I was about to take another, but I felt no guilt.
I walked silently away from Lola’s hiding spot and positioned myself between her and the gunman, my dirty boots trying to find mud and dirt rather than leaves, my footfalls careful. I hunched down to conceal myself in the thickest part of the undergrowth and waited with my hearing tuned to the landscape around me. A twig breaking to my left caught my attention, and I turned slowly in that direction, then paused to listen again. I could almost guarantee the guy was shitting bricks and cursing himself right now; he'd made a rookie mistake.
Slight movement to my right caught my eye, and I glanced in that direction, keeping my body still. Before I had a chance to assess the situation and move, a sound behind me had me drop to my knees. The familiar explosive sound of a gun fired at close range filled my ears, and a burning pain engulfed my shoulder. I didn’t hesitate, though; Lola’s life was on the line. Rolling across the ground, I kicked, and my feet connected with sturdy legs that were suddenly wiped out from beneath the man after Lola. I pointed my gun at him just as a booted foot connected with my hand and knocked it from my grip. Scrambling forward, I pinned the hand that still held a weapon and looked into the face of a determined assassin. He was a young man of Thai descent, and the deadly gleam in his eyes told me only one of us would be walking away.
Fortune had it that a small rock lay by my side, and I picked up the hand holding the gun and slammed it against the hard, rigid surface. With a grunt, the gun was lost and a knee reflexively went for my groin. Moving to one side, I avoided the contact, but a swift fist to my cheek caught me off guard. I rolled away, quickly climbing to my feet as the assassin did, too. He tried to kick me, but the confining space we were in wouldn’t allow it, so, I grabbed his foot and lifted, tipping the attacker off balance and watched him fall to the ground . When his gaze found his weapon amongst the leaves, he went for it. My heavy boot connected with his face. The mercenary rolled on his back with a groan, and I kicked him again, this time connecting with his ribs. I collected my enemy’s weapon and pointed it in his face. When he realized I had the upper hand, he went still. There was no fear in his eyes, just acceptance. I pulled the trigger and extinguished his life as easy as one might do a candle’s flame.
After checking the weapon, I tucked it into the back of my jeans before finding my Glock and holstering it. Then I quickly made my way back to Lola, no longer caring about the noise I made.
“Drew,” Lola murmured on what seemed to be a sigh of relief as I knelt down in front of her hiding place. She carefully climbed out and surprised me by throwing her arms around my neck.
“Everything’s okay,” I murmured, while taking in our surroundings. “We gotta get moving, come on.”
Pulling her trembling body away from mine was difficult, I could have held her like that forever, comforting her. Instead, I took her hand and guided her through the jungle until we were back on the dirt road. Then, we walked. I kept a brisk pace and somehow Lola kept up. We walked for a good forty minutes before the trees began to give way to open fields, and I spotted the house we were after. With enormous gates, and an eleven-foot fence surrounding the entire property, it was hard to miss. The Thai guards palming M16s with uncomfortable familiarity had Lola abruptly stop.
“It’s okay. This is where we hitch a ride home.”
Lola’s exhausted gaze caught mine, then with a nod of acceptance, she looked back over my shoulder towards the heavily fortified home.
“Drew,” Lola said, “You’re bleeding, again.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn’t quite see what had snagged Lola’s attention and had turned her pale face a sickly shade of green.
“It’s just a graze. Don't look at it.”
“I think I’m going to be sick, or faint, I haven’t decided which yet.”
“Mouse!” My commanding tone gained her attention. “It’s not lethal, just a scratch. I’ve been shot before, so I know what it feels like. This is nothing. I’ll get patched up on the jet. Don’t look at it.”
Of course, her gaze darted back to the injury.
“Nuh huh,” I murmured, and she tried valiantly to look away. She pulled a deep breath through her nose and out her mouth. “You good?”
She nodded, but I got the impression she was far from good.
Turning my attention back to the curious guards who were standing alert and ready, I moved forward and raised my hands. I could feel Lola pressed against my back, her trembling body too cold.
“My name is Drew King, and I am with Montgomery Security. Braiden Montgomery said to say Vasily still owes him five grand.”
One of the guards raised a handheld two-way radio and quietly whispered into the device. Whatever reply quickly followed had all the soldiers stand at ease.
“Come,” the guard with the two-way said, signaling us to move forward.
Taking Lola’s hand, we followed him through the gates.
“I had some trouble about two miles back, two dead. I left their bodies and bikes in the jungle, about fifty meters in from where the road forks.”
The guard called out orders for four men to go clean up the mess as we were guided down the long driveway and around the massive home that looked like a mansion better suited to the Bahamas than a Russian Mafia home in the outskirts of Bangkok.
As a man approached us, I pulled Lola closer to my side. I recognized him instantly. He was an inch shorter than me and just as wide. His long, dark hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, and his dark eyes were shrewd and assessing.
“I’ve got it from here, Yut. Get back on the gate.” The heavy Russian accent rolled off his tongue, and the guard gave a short nod before leaving us. “Good to see you again, Drew,” he continued, casting a quick, clinical eye over Lola before turning and heading to the back of the property.
“You too, Vasily. It's been a long time.”
Vasily grunted as we followed him. He wasn’t much of a talker, which I was fine with because let’s face it, neither was I. Vasily had worked his way through the ranks of the Toporov empire, and if rumors were correct, had replaced Braiden as Alexander’s right hand man.
We followed a path around the massive home to a jet sitting quietly on a makeshift tarmac, one that wasn’t quite as long as a runway should be, which would have make me nervous had I not been lifted out of similar settings before.
Vasily came to a stop and reached into his jacket. I tensed, my hand itching to reach for my weapon, but common sense telling me to stand down. I’d left the organization on good terms; the threat of dismemberment if I ever spilled the beans on Toporov was a threat I knew he’d follow through with. I’d never so much as whispered a word of my life working for the Russian, nor would I ever. It wasn’t exactly a job I would boast about, and I liked my body parts where they were . . . attached.
“Tell Braiden that I want a chance to win my money back.”
He held out a wad of cash. I nodded with a smile and accepted the money.
“I’ll pass on your message.”
Vasily grunted again, giving a short nod of dismissal before he turned and strolled away. The door to the jet was propped open and the stairs engaged. Two men stood talking not far from the bottom, and from the way he was dressed, a pilot stood at the top. I had never met any of them before, which wasn’t a big deal, there were quite literally thousands working for Toporov, and I hadn’t known so much as a third of them.
With a hand on her lower back, I guided Lola up the narrow, steep stairs, and the pilot stepped aside with a welcoming smile.
“My name is Kolya, and I am your pilot. Is there anything you need before we take off?”
“First aid kit?”
I turned my body to show the man my torn up shoulder. He nodded thoughtfully and smiled.
“My co-pilot Pavel can take care of it for you once we are in the air.” Kolya handed Lola a thick towel. “He’s a trained medic. Use this to help stop the bleeding, and please, have a seat.” He nodded to the seven luxurious seats behind us. “And try not to get blood on the leather.”
Casting Lola a sideways glance, I noticed the pale color of her skin and took the towel from her.
“This seat okay?” I asked her, standing by the second row of chairs. She nodded, and I allowed her the window seat as I sank into the leather chair, using the towel to slip behind my back and catch the blood. It stung like a motherfucker, but the fact we were finally on the jet and on our way back to Claymont brought a smile to my face.
“Wow, you’re smiling,” Lola whispered, the exhaustion behind her words clearly evident. “That’s, like, three times now. What’s got you so happy?”
The stairs to the jet were rolled away and the door closed. Kolya disappeared into the cabin up front, and soon after, the sound of the jet gearing up made my smile widen.
“Successful mission, and we’re going home.”
Lola relaxed back into her seat and watched out the small window as the jet’s engine became a loud roar.
“Home,” she whispered, the word sounding so lost and forlorn from her lips. “There are demons waiting for me at home.”
It broke my heart, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to take her hand, wincing as the wound in my shoulder stretched.
“Then you’re lucky you’ve got me to help you slay those demons, Mouse.”
Her lips almost tipped into a smile. “A plane takes off against the wind, not with it.”
When she went quiet, I watched her curiously, wondering what the hell she was talking about.
She caught me staring, then blushed and shrugged. “It almost feels like the plane and I share a common bond. I’m always pushing into the wind, never going with it . . .”
“You won’t always be headed into the wind, Mouse. Remember . . . we got this.”
Not long after we were in the air, the co-pilot stepped out of the cockpit. A man of small stature with dark hair neatly styled. He smiled as he approached me and knelt beside my seat with a first aid kit. Quickly and efficiently he saw to my wound and I thanked him in Russian.
“Пожалуйста.” You’re welcome, he replied. “I’ve cleaned it, but it will need a couple of stitches when you get home.” I nodded before the Russian disappeared into the cockpit.
“Was that Russian?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you spoke another language.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mouse.”
Lola nodded.
“Get some rest.”
Those pretty eyes rolled. “So bossy,” she murmured.
I helped her recline her seat and watched as her lids fluttered shut. It was only moments later her breathing deepened and her entire body went lax. Her face was soft and youthful in sleep; however, that ever-present frown remained. That was the frown I would conquer, and I wouldn’t rest until she was at peace.