“Stay alert. Use your coms, and don’t take any chances with your own safety. We get hurt, we’re no good to her.”
“We’ve got this, boss,” Coop assured him.
Jake nodded once. “This ends here.”
Several minutes later, Jake and Trevor broke through the property’s eastern tree line. The barn Derek told them about was less than ten yards away.
The SUV they’d seen on Olivia’s security footage was parked at the end of the gravel road leading to the building from the main road, and Jake nearly lost his footing when he saw the body lying on the ground behind it.
“Easy, boss.” Trevor put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Whoever that is, he’s not Olivia.”
Looking again, Jake could easily see the body was an African-American male. “I’d say we just found Marcus Anthony.” Question was, why had he been killed?
As if reading his mind, Trevor spoke up again. “Probably outlived his usefulness. He helped Cetro get Olivia. Prick didn’t need him after that.”
Staying focused, Jake turned to his friend. “Listen. If something happens, and I don’t—”
“Put that shit away,” Trevor interrupted. “You’re gonna go in there, take that bastard out once and for all, and then, we’re bringing Olivia home.”
Though he appreciated the guy’s positive attitude, Jake had to say it. “Liv is the priority. If I go down, you get her the hell out of here.”
“Jake—”
“Damn it, Trevor, justpromiseme!”
Trevor shook his head but said, “I’ll protect her with my life, man.”
Jake squeezed one of Trevor’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Screw that. You can thank me by going in and gettin’ our girl back.”
The two shared a look of understanding and proceeded to make their way to the barn. They were half way between the run-down building and the tree line they’d just come through when a terrifying scream cut through the afternoon air.
****
She was fading, fast. Olivia had tried to get through to Cetro, but there was no reasoning with insanity.
She’d gone into detail, explaining medically, why it had been impossible to save his brother. In one moment of desperation, Olivia had even tried empathy.
She’d shared how the loss of her brother had devastated her. How her life had been forever changed and how there was no way, she would ever want anyone—even a sadistic bastard like him—to suffer that same fate.
Eventually, Olivia realized there was no point in arguing. No amount of reasoning or empathy would make a difference.
Not one of the agonizing screams that had come with the strikes of the whip had fazed him. And there had been so many. As much as she wanted to fight it, Olivia knew her time was coming to an end.
Normally, she wasn’t one to give up. But this situation was as far from normal as anything could be, and she was tired. So very tired.
Tired of trying to convince a grieving sociopath she hadn’t intentionally let his brother die. Tired of pretending to be strong, knowing all the while, she was crumbling with fear and pain inside.
Mostly, Olivia was tired of praying for a miracle that obviously wasn’t coming. She simply couldn’t do it anymore.
With what little strength she had left, Olivia lifted her head, and through swollen eyes, she stared straight into Cetro’s.
“You can keep hurting me...or you can kill me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will bring...your brother...back. But if you’re so hell bent on...blaming someone...for his death...you should go look...in a mirror.”
She expected the comment to earn her another blow. Instead, she actually saw a brief flash of guilt. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
“Howdareyou blame me for Miguel’s death!” Cetro yelled, the veins in his forehead and neck bulging. “I raised that boy from the time he was just a toddler! I myself was barely a teenager. I gave him a home and food to eat. I taught him the ways oflife!”
