Page 19

B

As I zoomed along the Bruce Highway, the Indian Scout snarled beneath me like a predator eager for blood. Much like me.

This motorcycle had belonged to Alfonzo, a man whose ambition had far outpaced his intelligence.

He’d begged, of course. They always did.

Pleading for his miserable life as if words could undo what he’d done.

He’d screamed until the moment I tipped him overboard, bricks anchored to his ankles. The splash had been satisfying, final.

I tried to count how many men I’d fed to the sharks.

Six? Nine? Maybe more. Their faces had blurred into a single, panicked mask, their pleas indistinguishable by the end.

But what they'd done to me remained as sharp as glass.

Every betrayal, every ounce of pain they'd inflicted on me, on Alice, on my boys was seared into my mind like a brand.

I never forgot. And I made damn sure none of them did either.

As I twisted the throttle harder, the engine roared louder as the speedometer climbed past ninety. Speeding tickets didn’t concern me. This bike had been rotting in my garage for two years, and the cops who searched for it, along with Alfonzo, had never connected either disappearance to me.

Sometimes, I imagined them finally connecting the dots – all those "unsolved cases" scattered across decades like breadcrumbs, leading straight to my door.

Each death, each disappearance, fitting together like a perfect, blood-soaked puzzle.

What a shame I wouldn't be there to see their faces when they realized how long I'd been operating right under their noses.

Maybe I should leave them a memoir. A detailed confession of every life I’d ended, every body I’d buried, every hypocrite who had taken my money and then preached about justice.

The corrupt cops who'd looked the other way, the teachers who'd stolen children's innocence, the doctors who had become evil when the doors closed.

I could name them all and drag their pristine fucking reputations through the mud they'd created.

But they’d never believed me back when I was young and innocent. They wouldn’t believe or understand now.

They would count the bodies and label me a monster.

They would never see the abused child behind each murder. Or understand that every death was an echo of justice the system had denied us. They would never admit that the real monsters hid behind respectability while destroying lives.

No one would want to hear my reasons.

It would be easier to call me evil than face the truth – that they created me.

The sun hung low, bleeding orange across the horizon as the mile markers blurred into a haze. My phone lit up on the console bracket with one of the calls I’d been waiting for. Cooper Heathcote.

I pressed the helmet’s Bluetooth receiver.

“Tell me something useful,” I said, my voice clipped over the engine’s roar.

“I’m at Angelsong,” Cooper said, but something was off. His usual cocky tone was replaced with a nervous edge. That wasn’t like him. “Neither of the brothers are here.”

Fuck! I clenched the handlebars, knuckles aching. “And the body?”

The word tasted wrong . . . bitter and unnatural. Alice reduced to “the body,” as if forty-six years of love and devotion could be wiped away with a single, clinical label. The rage permanently coiled beneath my skin flared white-hot, threatening to consume me.

Cooper hesitated. Bad sign. “The body’s still here. ”

“What?” My voice cracked with fury. “And nobody is with her?”

“Nope. There’s a car here, though. Don’t know who owns it. Want me to run the plates?”

They abandoned her. My Alice. Left her to rot, exposed and vulnerable, like she was nothing more than garbage. My throat tightened around a lump that felt like razor blades. Tears blurred my vision, forcing me to ease off the throttle.

How dare they. How fucking dare they.

Oh God, Alice. I’m so sorry.

The words barely registered in my mind over the engine’s growl.

“What do you want me to do?” Cooper’s voice cut in, but he sounded nervous.

“Just stay there. I’m on my way.”

“What am I staying for? There’s nobody here,” he said, suspicion creeping into his tone like a slow leak.

Before I could answer, my phone flashed to another screen. My heart jolted to my throat. The warehouse alarm. The pressure plate had been triggered.

Those bastards at Alpha Tactical Ops had breached the perimeter – they’d found Grant.

“Fuck!” I snarled, slamming on the brakes. The bike skidded hard, barely making a turn into a “Stop/Rest/Survive” driver’s rest area. I cut the engine, and the sudden silence was deafening as I put down the stand and jumped off the bike.

I yanked my handbag from the saddlebag, my mind racing.

“Hey, B, you still there?” Cooper’s voice crackled in my ears, tinny through the Bluetooth.

“Yes. Just stay there.” My tone was clipped, focused.

I dumped the bag onto a picnic table, unzipped it, and pulled out my iPad. The screen flickered to life under my thumb, revealing the live feed from the warehouse. Four sharp images filled the screen: two from inside, two showing the perimeter.

Grant was still tied to the chair, his head slumped forward against his chest. He was still unconscious. Good.

I ripped off my helmet and slammed it onto the table. It teetered, then rolled off the edge into the dirt, but I didn’t care. My eyes were fixed on the live stream.

Three figures moved toward Grant, their steps measured and deliberate. They were dressed in full tactical gear, weapons raised, poised to kill. My pulse quickened as I recognized them.

Blade. Viper. And that bitch, Maya.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Perfect. The three of them, together. The same fuckers who killed my boys. But where was Aria? And their tech expert, Cobra?

I leaned over the iPad, studying the images closely. There was Aria, hovering outside the front door, her eyes darting left and right, scanning the shadows.

“Get inside, you bitch,” I muttered.

“B! What the fuck’s going on?” Cooper’s voice thundered through the helmet speakers, dragging me back into the moment.

I pulled the detonation device from my purse, setting it upright beside my phone. My hand hovered over the button, itching to press it and blow that team sky-high. The temptation was overwhelming. But not yet. Not until they were all inside. Patience had always been my greatest weapon.

“B!” Cooper yelled again, his voice grating.

“I said, stay there. I’m coming.”

“For what? There’s nobody here!”

“I need you to help me move Alice.”

“Alice?” he blurted, a sharp edge of disbelief in his tone. “Don’t tell me this is Alice Turnur. The Alice Turnur who went missing last year?”

I ground my teeth as I watched the live feed. Blade and Viper were inching closer to Grant, their movements methodical. Maya hung back, sweeping her weapon over the dark corners of the warehouse, searching for threats.

“Holy hell,” Cooper said, his voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “It is Alice Turnur, isn’t it?”

“She’s not an it , you fucker.”

He released a cocky laugh. “And it seems like she meant a lot to you. Bet Parker would love to know about this Alice Turnur, the missing woman. That’d be a cold case he’d kill to tick off his list.”

“Fuck you, Cooper. Just remember who you’re talking to.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it, B?” His voice dropped, low and pointed. “I don’t know who you are. But with this little tidbit, I reckon I could piece a link together.”

As I drummed my fingers against the table, I stared at the screen, my jaw grinding harder with each passing second. Blade hovered over Grant, checking his pulse. Grant’s head lolled to the side, and his pale face turned toward the camera.

He was still out cold. Pity, it would have been nice for him to see how his life ended.

The stumps where his legs used to be were dark with dried blood.

Maya moved like a shadow through the warehouse, her weapon sweeping left and right. Where the fuck was Cobra? My plan hinged on all of them being inside. Every one of those bastards deserved to burn.

Viper shifted his focus, stepping closer to study something near Grant.

Shit, has he seen my cables?

“B!” Cooper barked, dragging my attention back to the call. “Are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening.”

“Good. Then you heard what I said. I want more money,” he snapped.

On my iPad screen, Aria was still outside, pacing near the front door like a nervous animal. My grip on the detonation device tightened.

If she didn’t go in the warehouse soon, I would have to . . .. No. Patience.

“We had a deal, Cooper,” I said, forcing calm into my voice.

“Well, the deal’s changed,” Cooper shot back. “I’m always risking my ass for you. And what do I get in return?”

“You get paid, that’s what.”

“Yeah, well, I want more.”

I clenched my jaw, my teeth grinding so hard it felt like they would shatter. “You already get paid more than you’re worth.”

You slimy fucker.

“You think so?” His tone grated on my nerves. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re pretty desperate. Alice Turnur, huh? You’ve got a lot of skeletons, B. Might be worth my while to start digging a little deeper.”

My vision blurred with rage. I was going to watch the life drain out of his smug face. Slowly. Painfully. My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my fists so hard it felt like my skin might split.

On the screen, Cobra finally appeared, striding toward Aria with his gun held low, his gaze sweeping the ocean beyond the old wharf. Smart bastard. He was expecting an attack from the water. Too bad for him, the real danger was right under his feet.

“B! Did you hear me?” Cooper barked.

“How much?” I demanded, my voice tight but steady. I couldn’t let the fury boiling under my skin bleed through. If I caved too quickly, Cooper would smell the desperation.

“Another fifty grand. Cash. Delivered by tomorrow.”

Fifty grand? I could burn that much in an afternoon and not even notice, but giving it to Cooper and letting him think he could squeeze me for more was like swallowing broken glass. My hand hovered over the detonation device as Cobra reached Aria.

The pair stopped at the warehouse entrance, their heads low as they peered inside. Fucking finally.

Inside, Maya had holstered her weapon and crouched next to Grant, pressing two fingers to his neck. She was a medic as well as a trained killer.

He’s alive for now, Maya, but nothing will save him from the C4 under his chair.

“Did you hear me?” Cooper hissed.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Fifty grand cash. But this is it. No more negotiating after this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe it when I see it,” Cooper replied.

I wanted to reach through the phone and punch him in the nose.

On the iPad, Viper froze, pointing at the floor, then jerked back like he’d been burned. My stomach dropped.

He’s pointing at the wires. The ones leading to Grant’s chair.

My pulse spiked, my chest tightening like a vice. Viper was an explosives expert so he knew exactly what he was looking at. He knew it wasn’t just wiring. He knew it was a detonation cable .

Maya sprinted toward the front door.

“Fuck!” I hissed, my voice breaking.

“B, you still there?” Cooper’s voice crackled from the speakers in my helmet on the ground.

On the screen, Viper shouted something to Blade. They whirled toward the gaping hole in the warehouse floor.

“Fuck!” I snarled, slamming my thumb onto the detonation trigger.

The explosion ripped through the warehouse in a blinding flash, the iPad screen erupting into static. My retinas burned with the afterimage, and my heart pounded as I leaned closer, straining to make sense of the chaos.

“B! I’m getting sick of your fucking bullshit,” Cooper bellowed.

Through the fuzz and flickering feed, I caught one last, gut-twisting image: Blade and Viper diving through the large gap in the floorboards.

The screen went dark.

Are they dead? Did I kill those fuckers?

My hands shook as I stared at the blank screen.

I didn’t know whether to cheer or scream.

But even worse, if that didn’t kill them, I didn’t have a plan B.