Page 57 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

NATE

Salem Lakes, Wisconsin

R yan lands the chopper in a field about a quarter of a mile from where the two little red dots blink in and out like miniature heartbeats, drawing me toward them. I don’t wait for the blades to stop spinning before I leap out, landing in the tall grass.

“Keep your cool,” Ryan cautions, slapping me on the back before leaning into the helicopter and opening panels in the floor. “Here, take this.” A bulletproof vest flies toward me, and I grab it without thinking and put it on.

I need to get my head in the fucking game.

I lean my head back, letting the sun’s rays wash over me while regulating my breathing.

Keeping my demon on a leash takes more energy than I can spare.

It wants out, to rip into flesh and feast on blood.

Its claws dig into me, scratching at my ribcage like it did the day it was born on the bloody hardwood floor where my mother breathed her last breath.

But right now isn’t the time to allow myself to wear the monster inside.

I need to think clearly, not succumb to the raging violence that threatens to blind me from all sense and logic.

If Eric or Tessa got hurt—or worse, killed—because I couldn’t control myself, not even the pope could muster enough forgiveness to save me.

I fill my lungs with the fresh clean air, holding it for a beat before releasing it. “What else have you got in there?” I ask, willing the worry gnawing at my throat to back the fuck off.

Ryan hauls out binoculars, knives, a couple of grenades, four guns, silencers, and two boxes of ammo.

“Since we don’t know what we’re walking into,” he explains at my raised brow.

I reply with a smirk and load up, stashing weapons all over my body.

We fit earpieces, and after checking they work, head toward where Eric and Tessa are, our long strides eating up the distance in a matter of minutes.

As we approach the farm, we melt into the cornfield and split up, moving in a U shape around it.

I detach myself from my emotions, setting aside the worry, fear, rage, and helplessness.

The cold mantle of calculation drapes over me, silent, sharp, and surgical.

Empathy dissolves, replaced by the unfeeling predator.

I slide through the stalks like a ghost, my movements whisper quiet and undetectable.

Low voices reach me, making me pause and withdraw my gun, screwing on the silencer.

The two men stand with their backs to me, smoking cigarettes and gossiping about the “hot piece of ass” in the silo they’re going to fuck.

Over my dead body.

I sneak up behind them, clapping my hand over one’s mouth while shooting the other in the back of the head. He crumples to the ground as I snap the other’s neck and discard his body beside his friend’s.

“Two down,” I murmur to Ryan before dragging the bodies into the field so no one stumbles over them.

“I’m disappointed. I’ve got three.”

“It’s not a fucking contest, Ryan.”

Soft laughter filters through the earpiece.

Asshole.

I find another taking a piss behind the barn and leave him bleeding out slumped against it with his throat slit.

“Another one. That’s six down.” I melt back into the stalks and pull out my binoculars to check the roofs for snipers, and promptly trip over something.

What the fuck is a motorcycle doing here?

Wait. Is that The Unseen’s bike? Is he the one who took them?

Focus.

“I got another two. I’m going into the house,” Ryan says.

“Roger. I’ll check the barn in case there are any we missed on the satellite.

” I move around the front and check the pulse of the cooling body lying beside the door.

Dead. Inside, the barn mocks me with its emptiness, and I grind my teeth at the sight of the chains lying on the floor.

My imagination can all too easily conjure a picture of Eric or Tessa swinging from the rafters. They better fucking be alive.

I spin around at the sound of voices from outside and stride across the floorboards, the hay muting my footsteps.

I tuck myself against the wall. The door opens on squeaky hinges, and I hold my breath as they file in.

Before they can spot me, I put a bullet in them, reminding me of that one time I went to Chuck E.

Cheese when I was a kid and played Whac-A-Mole.

“There were two in the house. No sign of your family, though,” Ryan says. “Any luck in the barn?”

“They’re not in here, either, but I took out another three. That’s what, thirteen guards?”

“Yeah. That only leaves the silo. Meet me around the back of the house, and we’ll go in together.”

Salem Lakes, Wisconsin

Wednesday 3:03 p.m.

“Motherfucker,” I murmur under my breath when Tessa’s stalker steps inside the silo.

“Who’s that?” Ryan asks from our crouched position by the back porch.

“Ever heard of The Unseen?”

“The hacker?”

“The very one. He’s been stalking my girl for years.” My hands curl into fists. “I’m going to fucking skin him alive.”

A shot rings out, and I’m moving before I know it, racing out from behind the house and slamming my shoulder into the silo’s door, flinging it open.

I scan the room in under a second, noting Eric and Tessa alive but chained to the walls, and relief settles over me.

Then I notice the blood dripping down Tessa’s neck.

The dead guard on the floor. David cowering. The Unseen holding a man by the throat.

I raise my gun, and The Unseen does the same, dual shots ringing out and echoing off the metal walls. His bullet slams into my chest, knocking the breath out of me. I stumble backward into Ryan’s arms, while mine enters the base of the neck of the man he’s holding.

“No!” Tessa screams, the muscles in her arms standing in relief as she yanks against the heavy chains. Tears track down her face, her eyes wild. “Father Paul! Stop!”

Ryan shoves me back onto my feet, disbelief rocking me to my core.

“Thanks. See that fucker on the floor trying to get away? Grab him for me, will you? I need him alive.” Ryan nods and saunters over to David, kicks the knife out of his hand, and knocks him out with one punch before restraining him with zip ties.

Father Paul—that’s going to take a minute to process—drops the dead man on the floor.

I stalk toward him, ready to make good on my promise to kill him.

He followed Tessa for years, tried to hack us, threatened us, chased us, and scared Tessa after she’d already suffered through a lifetime of torment.

I can feel his eyes on me even though all I can see is my reflection in that creepy-ass mask.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t defend himself, just stands there, waiting.

I draw back my fist and slam it into his shoulder. Even though I have at least fifty pounds and six inches on him, he barely rocks back on his feet.

“Nate, stop. He saved my life,” Tessa calls. Ryan unclips her before doing the same for Eric. She sidles up beside me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“What are you talking about?”

The Unseen yanks off his mask, and I get a good look at him for the first time.

He’s a good-looking man with strong features, a straight nose, brown eyes, and warm, dark skin.

A little gray peppers his short black hair, and he sports a long-stubble beard.

I’m never good at judging ages, but I’d put him in his late thirties.

“Father Paul?—”

“Trey. Trey Williams,” he says, interrupting her. “And I’m not a priest.”

Tessa gives him a startled look and opens her mouth, but when she sees Eric walking toward us, she races toward him, leaping into his arms and wrapping herself around him like a monkey. He holds her close, stroking his hand down her back, listening listening to whatever she’s whispering to him.

Trey tracks her movements, his lips curling into a smile, his eyes softening.

I don’t fucking like that look.

He rears back at the scowl on my face and shakes his head. “I’m not a fucking pedo,” he growls.

“Then why the hell were you stalking her since she was a little kid?”

He sighs and runs a hand over his head. “Can we sit down for this? It’s been a long fucking day.”

I narrow my eyes but agree, and we file out of the silo and across the lawn to the house.

It’s as shabby inside as it is outside, but there’s a couch and a couple of recliner chairs in the living room.

Ryan tosses David on the floor and stands guard at the door while the three of us take the couch.

Trey sits on the edge of the recliner, facing us.

“So, talk,” I demand. I still don’t trust this guy. He fucking shot me. Good thing Ryan had those vests in the chopper, but it’s going to leave a nasty bruise.

“Thirteen years ago, I was wandering aimlessly from state to state when I began feeling a pull toward Illinois. The closer I got, the stronger it became. It was a beautiful Sunday morning when I first rode into Willowmen. The church bells called me, drawing me toward Annunciation, and since I never miss Mass, I took a seat in the back pew.”

He smiles at Tessa, a look of affection settling over his features. I take her hand in mine and glare at him, but he just raises a brow.

“And then Tessa came in with her parents, and the light streaming through the stained-glass windows surrounded her with His glorious grace. And then I knew, deep down in my bones, that He was assigning me a mission to protect her. Especially after I witnessed the way her mother treated her.” His lip curls at the mention of Presley, like he finds the mention of her name distasteful.

“Wait, who’s ‘him’?” Eric asks.

“My Father.”

“What does your dad have to do with this?”

Trey chuckles. “Nothing. I killed that fucker years ago. I mean the Lord our Father.”

Eric and I exchange a glance, and he gives a little shrug. Okay, then. “So you, what? Became a priest so you could stay close to her?” I ask.

“I didn’t ‘become a priest,’ per se. I forged documents and set up an online trail to make it appear I’d been through seminary and ordination. Luckily, the former priest retired and Annunciation hired me. Since St. Mary’s shares the church, it was easy enough to be around as much as I could.”

“What did Tessa mean when she said you saved her?”

Tessa squeezes my hand. “Remember the bullying I went through? And how I overdosed?” Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead when I remember that time.

I’d never felt more hopeless. “Father—Trey—saved me. He found me in the supply closet and rushed me to the hospital. He even stayed with me until my parents arrived.”

“Twelve fucking hours later,” Trey grumbles under his breath.

“He also killed Ryder Washington. His dad was one of the ones that kidnapped us,” Tessa explains.

At my raised brow, Trey adds, “The one you shot in the barn.”

Good. At least that’s one less asshole I have to deal with today. I cross my leg and contemplate him for a moment. He stares back, a hint of wariness in his eyes. “And you’re the one that tortured the little fuckers who were harassing her.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I warned them, repeatedly, to leave her alone, but they wouldn’t listen. Now everyone knows what they are.” Bully. Incel. Coward. Rapist. The words he carved into their foreheads. At least he has a sense of humor.

“Thank you,” Tessa says softly. “If it wasn’t for you…”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, getting to his feet. He holds a hand out to her, and she takes it, letting him help her up. I resist the urge to slit his throat for touching her. Eric’s hand squeezing my thigh helps with the impulse. “I have to ask something before I go. Are you happy?”

Tessa’s face transforms as she glances down at us. “Very.”

“Good.” He makes the sign on the cross on her forehead with his thumb before taking a step back. “I need to go now.” Excitement lights up his eyes, and he gives us a wave and turns toward the door. Ryan gives him a nod, and then he’s gone.

I jump up and go after him, leaping down the porch stairs. “Trey! Wait up.”

He turns, his hands fisting. “If this is about me shooting you, I already let you hit me in return.”

I shake my head. “Nah, you saved Tessa when we couldn’t. We’re in your debt.” My voice lowers, and I lean closer to murmur something to him.

He chuckles and claps me on the shoulder. “Consider it done.”