“Tell me where to find Brumley,” she said coldly.
“He’ll be in Jakarta,” he choked out. “Three weeks. You won’t find him until then. I don’t even know where he plans to be. But there’s a big deal going down there. One of his contacts has promised him the best of the best girls. If his contact is telling the truth, this will make Brumley millions. He’s already lining up buyers based on information he’s received about the girls. Guy’s name is Dimas. He’s a big shot in Jakarta. Local businessman who’s delving into human trafficking for the first time. Word is, he’s delivering virgins and Brumley’s clientele is going nuts. He’s planning to auction them individually in an exclusive, high-security, extremely private venue on the island he owns.”
P.J.’s lips curled into a snarl and a sound of rage burned deep in her chest and bubbled outward, vibrating her throat. Red clouded her vision. She raised the knife, prepared to end it now.
“Hands up!”
She froze, fear scuttling through her stomach. She turned her head to see two armed men at the corner of the house. They carried assault rifles and they were both pointed at her.
One man jerked the barrel of the rifle in an upward motion to indicate she was to raise her hands.
Fuck. She’d acted like a goddamn rookie seeing her first live action. She’d holstered the gun instead of keeping it out because she’d assumed that the house had been vacated and that all of Brumley’s men had escaped with him. As Steele always said, people who assume are usually the ones who end up dead.
She’d forgotten her training, so eager had she been to exact justice. And now she was going to pay dearly for that mistake.
The two men started forward, their guns never lowering. P.J. kept her hands in the air, the knife still gripped in one of them.
She could probably take one of them out by throwing the blade when they got close enough, but she’d have to rely on the other guy either being distracted or missing if he shot so she’d have enough time to draw her own gun.
As if reading her thoughts, the two spread out, circling in a wide berth around her. Then one motioned for her to get down on her knees.
Her mind buzzed with possibilities. She had to think of a way out of this.
She started downward, taking her time, playing up the injury to her leg as if she were close to dying. She groaned and grunted before settling to her knees. The entire way down, she slowly lowered her empty hand, hoping the men were more fixated on the one holding the knife.
Just a little more . . .
“She’s going for her gun!” Nelson cried out.
P.J. cringed and waited for the bullet to hit her.
To her utter shock, one of the men went rigid. A hole bloomed on his forehead and blood streamed down his face as he slowly crumpled to the ground like a deflated balloon.
She went for her gun and rolled, just as the other man went down, blood splattering everywhere.
A hand grabbed her ankle and jerked. She tried to kick with her injured leg and couldn’t hold back the scream of pain. She came up with a vengeance, launching herself at Nelson. He was desperate to save his ass and she was just as determined to kill him.
She didn’t have time to wonder what the hell had just happened to the other two. If she didn’t take Nelson out, he would take her out.
She doubled her fist and punched him in the jaw. When he reeled back, she jumped on him, knife in hand. He grasped her wrist and squeezed, but she refused to let go of her weapon. She punched him with her free hand, but his grasp didn’t loosen.
Son of a bitch. She wasn’t going down to this bastard and she wasn’t going to let him break her arm.
She lunged forward, head-butting him right in the nose. She saw stars, but he got the worse end of the deal. More blood spurted from his nose and his hand fell away from hers.
Using his moment of distraction, she drew up her knee and then rammed it into his crotch. He yelped and rolled, throwing her off him as he curled into a ball, one hand on his nose and the other cupping his dick.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit!” she raged at him.
She kicked him in the ribs, and then remembering that someone had shot the other two, she dropped down, knife high overhead, and she struck quickly, slashing a line down his chest.
As much as she wanted to make this as ritualistic as the two earlier killings, she knew she didn’t have the time and this had already been a cluster fuck from the very start.
She leaned down close, so he would hear every word.
“This is for every girl you ever tormented, tortured and raped. This is for all those babies you sold into slavery. And this is for me, a woman you had to drug in order to rape. I’m not so helpless this time, asshole.”
The knowledge of his death was in his eyes and she savored it a moment before slicing his throat.
Blood gurgled out and then she heard the hissing sound as air escaped from his lungs. His eyes went glassy and his head lolled to the side.
She closed the knife, stuffed it into her pocket and started to drag herself upward. She hoped to hell one of these damn cars could be hot-wired or she was fucked for transportation. No way could she get back to where she’d parked her vehicle nearly two miles away.
She managed to gain her footing, but she swayed like a sapling in the wind. And then she heard her name. Loud and growing louder with every second.
She turned in bewilderment and then sank to her knees when she saw her entire team burst onto the scene. Cole was in front, his features carved in stone. He was focused on her. His gaze never left her as he ran toward her.
“You were the one who took them out,” she said when he dropped on his knees in front of her.
“Dolphin got one,” he said. “He’s not a bad shot. Not as good as you, but he’ll do in a pinch.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her team was here. That they’d come through right when she needed them most. She would be dead if they hadn’t arrived when they had. But why were they here? How?
The question bubbled out. “What are you doing here?”
Suddenly she was shaking so bad that her teeth were clinking together with enough force to chip them.
She stared down at her hands. Hands that were covered in blood. Some hers, but mostly Nelson’s. And they shook uncontrollably. Nothing she could do could stop it.
She should be jubilant. Triumphant. And instead her insides were so cold that she didn’t feel anything at all.