“She has lost more than either of us, Ken. You lost a sister and a niece. I lost my wife and my daughter. She has lost her entire life. Don’t browbeat her. She’s suffered enough.” Rand’s voice was strident in the silence left by her statement.
Ken shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. “She could be lying to you. You’re vulnerable in this. . ."
Rand slammed a hand down on the table, and the sound reverberated through the room. “I haven’t been vulnerable in a lot of years, Ken. They’re gone. I can get the ones who did this. You don’t have to trust her, but you should trust me.”
Ken sighed, and his shoulders dropped. Where anger had ridden his shoulders just moments ago, defeat now sat. “Go on,” he said, and sat back down.
Rand sat too, and Remi turned to the board that had been set up. On it were several satellite pictures showing Joseph’s house and outlying buildings. The shack farthest from the main house drew her attention, and had her hands clenching.
“The best way to tackle The Collective is from within. Things have been set into play that will lead to confusion and mistrust among the members. It is the only way to ensure that everyone is looking at everyone else. The list of names I gave you is complete, however there are new players every year. New inductees into the group as others die or are killed. This isn’t the normal meeting. This is all about First Team’s defection. Other teams are hunting us. The ones killed yesterday are only one of at least twenty Joseph has at his disposal.”
She took a minute to draw her thoughts back to the why of it all. Mother’s face flashed through her mind, and she took a deep breath. Where had she left off? Oh yes, giving them information so they could formulate an entry plan. She shook her head slightly. Their plans would be for naught. She and her sisters had long ago arranged this, and their end-goal was too imperative. She would include him, and he would get his revenge, however, it just wouldn’t be how he was anticipating.
She and her sisters would be the ones to take care of Joseph. He was theirs to kill. She’d repeat it as many times as she needed to force everyone to remember.
“There are more like you?” Dmitry’s voice was hopeful. She wondered at this for a second then discounted the thought that streamed through her mind.
“There are many more. None as well trained, versatile, or accomplished as First Team, but yes, he has others held in the camp. Some as young as ten years old.”
“What the fuck?” Adam’s disbelief struck a chord in Remi, but the fact Joseph took babies and raised them up to be killers was entirely too believable to her. She’d lived it.
“He takes young children by any means he feels convenient, and he isolates them. Here,” she said softly pointing to the shack that gave her chills. “This is where he houses them. Above ground it is a harmless-looking shed. Below ground there are cells where he both breaks down and conditions potential candidates for his assassin teams.”
Silence met her words. The men’s disgust hung in the air like a pall. Remi didn’t turn and look at them. She couldn’t. Somewhere over the last weeks, what one of them thought had become important to her . . . affected her.
Rand cleared his throat. “How many are there at any given time?”
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, allowed the air pulling into her lungs to soothe her. “Anywhere between ten to twenty girls. On my last visit to the shack, I counted twelve. It depends on whether they’ve managed to survive conditioning. If not. . ."
“He kills them, doesn’t he?” Dmitry again, voice cold and deadly.
She nodded her head. Remi had made the lethal mistake once of trying to protect one of the young ones when she herself had been no older than fourteen. It had resulted in two being cut down before her eyes. Her limbs went numb at that memory, and her chest seized.
She’d stood in front of the tiny girl as Minton had raised his gun. He’d glared at her, and Joseph had grabbed one of the others, putting a bullet in her brain before Remi could act. “I’ll kill one for every second you continue to stand there,” he said in a dead voice.
Remi had known he would. She’d moved immediately.
It bubbled out of her before she could stop it, the sob rocking her off her foundation and sending her to her knees. Her conditioning had broken, it seemed, and from where had once flowed only ice, now white-hot lava roiled and ripped away her structured existence.
How could he have killed such a perfect child? How could he have killed so many?
This was hard. She’d blocked that memory, knowing she couldn’t survive if she kept it new in her mind. And it attacked her viciously now, the spray of the little girl’s blood as it arced toward Remi, the weight of her small body as it fell against Remi’s side. The child’s terror-filled gaze had landed on her just seconds before Minton’s gun had ripped a hole in her.
She had buried both of the young ones by herself and right beside . . .
Remi looked up and straight into Rand’s face. He knelt beside her. She hadn’t felt his presence. Locked in the grip of the memory, she had lost awareness. He stroked her face with his thumbs. She was crying—it felt rather like being torn apart.
“Don’t do this here,” he cautioned in a hard tone. His look was stern, his eyes much softer.
It allowed Remi to pick up the pieces and stuff them back together inside her. She wiped her face and stood, still not glancing at anyone else in the room besides Rand.
He stood as well and walked back to his chair, sat down wearily, but never released her gaze.
He held her with the force of his will, and she sank into him, let his strength be hers. Another deep breath, eyes locked on his, and the words rushed out.
“Joseph Bombardier is a killer with no remorse. His sole motivation is power. He eats, sleeps, and breathes it, and somewhere along the way to the top, he decided he’d like to have a bevy of assassins at his disposal. He determined the best way to do that would be to take young girls and hone them into weapons. He has been successful.
“None are more successful than First Team, but there are, as I’ve told you, at least twenty more squads out there, either fully trained or close to completion. He will send each and every one at you, me, whoever stands in his way or offers disruption to his life. They will die, knowing no other way to live because they’ve been conditioned to kill on command and protect Joseph with their last breath.
“The meeting in Arequipa is to discuss how to best handle either pulling First Team back in or eliminating us. He’s lost his hold on his most trained squad and will put the full force of The Collective into finding or eliminating us. There are four members of First Team. Me, Blade, Arrow, and Bone. We have killed and will kill again. It is all we know. Until Joseph Bombardier is wiped from the face of the earth, we will continue to haunt him.”
Remi breathed in deeply, fought the panic that came with giving away knowledge of Joseph, and spoke to the group, though her words were for Rand.
“I cannot promise that we will give you your shot, but I will share what I know about Joseph and allow you track my movements. I will share my knowledge, but when the time comes for The Collective to fall, Joseph Bombardier is ours. Do you hear me? He is mine, Blade’s, Arrow’s, and Bone’s to kill. If you get in our way, you will suffer. We will see him dead or die trying.
“So if you think to steal him from us, you are running a fool’s errand. My hope in coming here was to use Trident as a decoy, ‘bait’ I believe you called it, while at the same offering you an opportunity to watch us bring down The Collective. You each deserve that. Some of you more than others. Using you as bait will not be necessary now. Joseph is aware of what First Team has set in motion and has pulled in his resources, dug in hoping we will come to him.
“That was always our plan. Had we been forced to attack him on international ground, we would have needed Trident Corp’s reach and presence to ease our way. You would have been more of a distraction than anything. But he has done as we hoped. He has decided to taunt us by remaining in Arequipa. I rejoice at this, as I’m sure my sisters do. We were destroyed, rebuilt, trained, and survived there—Arequipa is inside us all, the lay of the land, the paths through the jungles and mountains. We know Arequipa and Joseph.”
Rand’s gaze was ice cold now. He hadn’t liked her words, but he’d known what to expect. He was probably the most intelligent individual she’d ever met. He’d read her from the beginning.
“You think you’re good enough to take down all the names on that list?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’m banking on the plays my sisters have put into motion to eliminate three-quarters of them. I have done my share, as well. The members have pulled into Arequipa out of fear. They look to Joseph for answers, and he will do his best to provide them with the heads of First Team. If he cannot, he will sacrifice the rest of The Collective in a bid to get away. There are places he hides that even we don’t know about. And he has something that is infinitely precious to us.”
“What? What does he have?” Nodachi’s voice sliced over her.
“Again, that is none of your business,” she began, and then stopped as a sly smile broke out on his face.
Something oily moved through Remi. Nodachi knew something he wasn’t sharing with the class. Blade had seriously underestimated Trident’s co-owner. The man couldn’t know about—
“It’s the boy, isn’t it?” Satisfaction threaded through his tone now, and everything in Remi went on alert.
She was in his face in a heartbeat. “What do you know of him?” she demanded, her hands on the arms of his chair as she leaned close.
Rand growled low in his throat. She didn’t look at him, didn’t spare a second to wonder what the hell he was upset about.
“Don’t touch her, Ken,” he bit out.
Ken smiled, and in it were all of Remi’s fears. “What do you know about the boy, Mr. Nodachi?”
Her blade found purchase against his throat, and his pupils widened.
“Put the knife down, Gretchen,” Rand commanded. She felt more than heard Dmitry and Adam moving in behind her. Rand hadn’t moved a muscle. She was so tuned to him, his every breath eased her. But not now.
He sneered. “I know nothing about the boy. I told you and your fucking
Blade
this.”
“And I would have sworn you told the truth. But I think you’ve made a liar out of me,” she whispered at his ear. The threat was implicit. Her blade rested directly over the cut her sister had put there days ago.
Remi sheathed her blade and stepped to the side, turning swiftly to encounter any threats from the other men. “I will not ask you again.”
“It’s good then because I don’t fucking know anything. The boy wasn’t there when we arrived, and the woman was dead.” It was elusive, but there was deceit in his tone.
A look passed between Adam and Nodachi. The deceit became a tangible thread. She’d have to warn Blade. With things steamrolling toward Arequipa, they needed to ensure the boy didn’t suffer.
He was, after all, one of them.
“I hope you do not, Mr. Nodachi. I would hate for you to be added to our kill list.”
“Goddamn it, Rand, get her out!” Ken stood then, body hardened and readying for war. Remi let her muscles go loose in preparation.
Rand nodded at her, and she inclined her head before sidestepping to the doorway.
“You have said one thing that resonates with me above all others, Mr. Nodachi: never trust killers.” With that, she turned and left, headed upstairs to grab her things.
If they were unwilling to listen, she was unwilling to remain. She was so close. Nodachi knew something about the boy, but there was no time. She needed to warn Blade. She pulled out her SAT phone and left a message, hoping against hope that Blade received it before Remi traveled to Arequipa.
“You’ve got to stop holding knives to our throats.” Rand’s wry tone had her head swiveling to the door.
“Stop being assholes, and the need for knives is eliminated.”
He walked to her, stopping mere inches from where she stood, once again ready for battle. It was all she knew, that tightness in her muscles that let her know her heart still beat. That warmth in her belly at his nearness was not what she needed.
But it flowed outward, and before she realized it, her body had melted into his, her hands tangling in the ebony thickness of his hair. His breath whistled in, and she stood on tiptoes to brush her mouth over his.
He smelled of sandalwood and male. He tasted of ecstasy.
He grabbed her ass and she levered herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist and seating herself on the ridge of his hardened cock. Her head fell back as he pushed into the V of her legs.
“We can’t,” he said at her mouth. “Not right now. I have men coming, and we need to plan.”
“Plan for what?” she asked, biting at his lips.
“Arequipa.”
She stopped then, unhooked her legs and stepped away from him. Funny how just the thought of returning to hell could destroy even the hint of pleasure. She mourned the loss of her contact with him but it should be this way. She should have never touched him or allowed him to touch her in the first place.
There would be memories but having had him she knew the wanting would never stop. He would hate her once this was finished. It was a bone-deep knowledge. Better she not torture herself with what would never be hers.
“You’re right, of course,” she stammered out and looked out the window.
He sighed and the sound rippled through her. Regret and need bounced around her ears. Oh well.
“Come down in a bit. Give Ken some time to calm down. We’ll need everything you can give us about the compound.”
She watched the trees sway in the distance and wondered what it would be like to be so free. To move as you wanted, when you wanted. To fight the wind or let it stroke you as it wished.
“Yes. I’ll be down later,” she said softly.
The door closed, and Remi went to her knees and folded her hands. It had never worked before but maybe, just maybe, the one called God would listen now.
It had been two days of intensive research, and picking Gretchen’s brain, for any and all aspects of The Collective before Rand felt safe enough to secure travel plans for Arequipa.