“Yes. Off the coast of California is my best guess.” That’s where Jonathan’s wellness retreats take place. “There’s an airfield on Ghost’s radar, but she discounted it too quickly. My best guess is he flies clients out so they can pick their victims at leisure.”
My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I sort through and discard plan after plan. The issue is Jonathan clearly knows who I am. The second he sees me, he will kill Eleanor and Steph, if he hasn’t done so already. I shake my head, my jaw ticking.No. I can’t think like that. Emotions need to stay locked up until we’re back on land and I’m balls deep in my girl. A smirk lifts my lips. I do have contacts that Jonathan won’t recognize.
I stab my finger against my phone, and he answers immediately.
“Hunter, thank fuck. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“He has Ghost and my sister.”
“What do you need?” Honor asks, focused despite the tremor in her voice.
“Transport to the coast,” I say as a plan solidifies in my mind. I need to get on that boat without him knowing until it is too late.
“Done. Send me the coordinates and a helicopter can be with you in minutes,” Fox says.
“Jonathan is holding them on a boat, we think?—”
“We know with a high degree of certainty,” Carlson interjects.
“His inventory is kept on a boat.”
Honor curses. “He needs to die.”
“Give me the contact information and names of some known buyers, and I can arrange a viewing today,” Fox says. I don’t want to know how, but Fox moves in the societal circles Jonathan aims for.
His victims disappear from the world to feed the sick games and desires of the wealthy who see laws as a loose guideline rather than an absolute authority. Whipping the truck around, I pull back onto the road and speed toward the airstrip.
That’s okay. I can be judge, jury, and executioner. This is the last time Jonathan will ever see the sun.
This ends tonight. I promise.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Eleanor
Blood of my blood.
There’s a moment when you first wake where there is no pain, no fear, no regret. Then reality barrels into you and you wish, more than anything, to go back to the land of dreams. Or to at least stay suspended in that peace. Perhaps it’s how the mind focuses. We know what is possible, so we then spend every waking moment trying to reach it. My brow furrows as consciousness seeps into my bones. Life is a messy rollercoaster, not an oasis, and right now, I have been delivered straight to the depths of Hell.
I will survive it—I’ve done it before. I suck in a deep breath, force my heart to slow, and take stock of my body, realizing I’m unharmed.
The smell hits me first. Damp. Sex. Despair.
Time to face my demons. My eyes blink open, and I squint at the bright light swaying from the ceiling of the otherwise dark room. Why is it moving? I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. Must be the aftereffects of the drugs. I twist my hands, findingthem still bound behind my back with the crappy metal cuffs. I sit on a slick wooden chair, facing the man who takes center stage in all my nightmares. He relaxes in his chair, a sadistic look coloring his eyes. For so long, he dominated my every waking thought, controlling every subconscious decision. Now, he has been replaced with a man who gifts me the stars.
Jonathan tilts his head and lets his gaze trail over my body. The cool air skims my skin, a muscle in my jaw feathering at the sensation. I’m naked. He smirks at the tattoo, his eyes leaving an icy trail along my flesh. “Color me surprised. My sweet Eleanor has not only marked her body with ink, but defiled it with metal. Did you get a taste for pain?”
My eyes narrow, unable to hide the disgust I harbor for this man. No, I got a taste for taking back my body, and each one of these is an act of power. A reminder I am in control.
I force my face to relax. We are alone, and I worry for Steph, but showing that won’t help. He already knows I care; no need to draw more of his attention to it.
He leans forward, invading my space and propping his chin on his hands. “Play the game, Eleanor, or I will be forced to get creative.”
I lift my chin and grind my teeth.Bring it.The longer I hold his attention, the better.
My gaze registers the sparsity of the room. Only one door, no windows, and the walls and floor look like they have been recently washed. How reassuring. I tilt my head a little, accepting I can’t see behind me.
He tsks as he stands and stalks toward me. I can survive anything. I have to keep breathing. He kicks open my legs and drops to his knees, drawing something metal out of his pocket.
