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  BEAUTIFUL VENGEANCE

  Vengeance Series

  Kaylea Cross

  BEAUTIFUL VENGEANCE

  Copyright © 2020 Kaylea Cross

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  Cover Art: Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs

  Developmental edits: Deborah Nemeth

  Line Edits: Joan Nichols

  Digital Formatting: LK Campbell

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-928044-37-6

  Table Of Contents

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  DEDICATION

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  MARCUS’S YORKSHIRE PUDDINGS

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Broken Bonds

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COMPLETE BOOKLIST

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  They made her into the perfect weapon.

  Kiyomi Tanaka is the final piece needed to unlock the deadly threat stalking the remaining Valkyries. After years of sacrifice as the ultimate femme fatale, she’s prepared to give up everything to find justice. But suddenly that’s not such an easy choice anymore, because now she has more to lose than she ever thought possible: her freedom, the family she’s always longed for…and the wounded warrior who’s stolen her heart.

  Now she’s coming after them.

  Marcus Laidlaw survived captivity, torture and certain death because of a Valkyrie. Now his solitary existence has been turned upside down by a team of them determined to hunt down the corrupt government officials who stole their lives. He’ll do whatever he can to protect them, but there’s one Valkyrie he’d do anything for—a brave, beautiful survivor who showed him what it means to live again. And when the unknown threat hovering over them is finally revealed, Marcus will be forced to do the unthinkable to save the woman he loves.

  DEDICATION

  For Pamela Clare, a dear friend and one hell of a talented writer. Love you!

  And for Hazel, for helping me make Marcus sound like a proper bloody Yorkshireman.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Saying goodbye to a cast of characters I’ve fallen in love with is always bittersweet, and it’s no different with the Vengeance crew and my kickass Valkyries. It’s been my sincere pleasure in bringing them all happy endings, but especially Marcus and Kiyomi! I can’t think of two more deserving characters after all they’ve been through.

  Happy reading,

  Kaylea

  Prologue

  He’s coming.

  At the sound of the footsteps moving overhead, Kiyomi struggled to open her eyes. The lids were so swollen her field of vision was reduced to a single tiny strip on the left side. Fear crawled through her, foreign and terrifying.

  Chains rattled as she gingerly turned onto her belly, the manacles around her wrists and ankles biting into her skin as she faced the front of her iron cage. A shadowed staircase stood mere feet away in the dim room. In moments he would appear in the doorway at the top and advance down those stairs.

  Her entire body ached from the deep bruises he’d already inflicted all over her. The shimmering gold lamé dress she’d worn to the private party a few nights ago was now torn and filthy.

  She shivered, pushed up a bit on her right arm, struggling to overcome the weakness that hung over her like a fog. Through the gloom she was able to make out the shape of the woman lying in the cage next to hers. She was still curled into a ball, appearing not to have changed position since Kiyomi had passed out.

  “Hannah,” she whispered, blood trickling over her tongue as the cut in her lip broke open. The other Valkyrie didn’t move or respond in any way. She was probably dead by now.

  The unexpected pang of empathy caught Kiyomi off guard. She had come here to kill Hannah because the traitor had killed Kiyomi’s best friend, and had wound up Rahman’s personal captive instead. Now he and his men appeared to have taken care of Hannah for her.

  The other Valkyrie’s suffering was over, while Kiyomi’s was only just beginning. She’d betrayed Rahman, made him fall in love with her, and he would make her hurt for it.

  The footsteps upstairs drew closer to the door.

  Kiyomi’s flesh crawled at the knowledge of what was coming. He wanted to break her. Not just physically. Mentally and emotionally too. He wanted to watch her break, hear her beg him for mercy.

  She’d die before she gave him the satisfaction of either.

  The door opened. She stayed completely still, gathering her remaining strength to endure what was coming.

  His silhouette appeared in the doorway. She squinted when he switched on the lights, the sudden brightness piercing her sore eyes. The door shut and he started down the stairs in slow, measured steps as her eyes adjusted.

  He was dressed as he always was. Immaculate in his custom-made suit, his white dress shirt open at the neck and startlingly bright against his bronze skin. He was clean-shaven, his dark hair perfect, swept off his forehead and without a trace of gray in it yet, though he was in his mid-thirties.

  “You’re awake. Good.” Satisfaction and anticipation dripped from every word.

  He had something in his hand.

  She stared at it as he drew nearer, stepping out of the shadows and into the light. Something round.

  Then he reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward her. Rage and helplessness exploded inside her when she saw what he held.

  A coiled bullwhip.

  He glanced briefly at Hannah, dismissed her a heartbeat later and turned to stare down at Kiyomi, a half-smile on his handsome face. Shrugging out of his jacket with slow deliberation, he let her see the whip.

  “I know what you are,” he said as he came to stand in front of her cage.

  Cold rippled through her. He’d seen the brand on her hip. Did he now know what it meant? Or did he just think he did?

  He stood there staring down at her for a long moment, his chilling gaze filled with rage and lust as he let the silence drag out. Underscoring the lopsided power dynamic between them. His control pitted against her helplessness.

  Revulsion slid through her as she recalled what had passed between them. Him touching her intimately, her pleasuring him all those times, taking him inside, acting the ecstatic lover while she made her mind go elsewhere.

  Lying next to him in his bed night after night, waiting for him to reach for her. Playing the role of worshipful sycophant she’d chosen to
gain entry into his world in order to get within striking distance of Hannah. All the while, waiting. Waiting.

  He’d fallen for it completely, believing she revered him and his body, that she couldn’t get enough of him. That she was falling in love with him.

  Then everything had gone horribly, irrevocably wrong.

  The terrible memories of her capture four nights ago flashed through her mind as he unlocked the cage door and swung it open.

  She forced herself to lie still and not react as he came to stand above her, filled with hatred as she stared up at him through her slitted eye. Only a pathetic coward would chain a woman down so he could beat her.

  And that’s exactly what Fayez Rahman was, even if he wasn’t stupid. Because he knew if she hadn’t been chained, she would kill him.

  He was even more afraid of her than he was obsessed with her. And his fear was the only comfort she had in this terrible, desolate moment.

  “I’m going to send you back to your maker.” An evil smirk split his face, the outline of an erection pressing against the front of his pants. “The one who created you.”

  She braced for the pain and stared defiantly up into those dark, cruel eyes, refusing to cower or let him think he’d won. His taunting words were an empty threat. He wouldn’t kill her. He was too afraid of the wealthy buyer he had lined up for her to do that, the one he’d taunted her with for the past three days. The Architect.

  Anything short of death, she could handle. She had no other choice.

  Her training kicked in. The only thing stopping her from cowering now.

  You’re a Valkyrie. You can take this. Separate your mind and body. Don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, no matter what he does.

  Rahman relaxed his fist, allowing the long tail of the bullwhip to touch the concrete floor. He gave a deliberate flick of his wrist, making the leather slither back and forth over the concrete like a snake ready to strike. Then he raised his arm, lifting the braided handle high.

  Kiyomi clenched her teeth to keep from crying out as it snapped across the skin between her shoulder blades. Fire raced along her nerve endings.

  She sucked in a breath and tensed, clenching her teeth and fists as she awaited the next blow. She fought to stay above the pain, to let her mind float free. But as she did, she made a vow to herself.

  You will not break me. But one day, I’ll kill you for this.

  Someday, she would stare down into those evil, dark eyes. She would watch his triumph turn to shock and then abject terror just before she snuffed the life from him.

  Chapter One

  Bitchilantes Ride Or Die

  November fifth—Bonfire Night. His least favorite night of the year.

  Marcus leaned forward in his tufted leather desk chair to pull up last night’s security feeds, focusing on the cameras posted on the gatehouse and along a section of fence that ran parallel to the road in front of his property. For the past three nights the annual ritual of teenage boys setting off firecrackers had started up soon after darkness fell, and continued until nearly midnight.

  As a combat veteran who had survived captivity and torture, fireworks and other explosives going off always set him on edge, not to mention they also spooked his dog and horses. This year, it was far more than that.

  The teenagers didn’t know it, but he had a house full of lethal operatives staying here at Laidlaw Hall, and given the current threat against them all, everyone was on edge.

  Despite all the team’s efforts in searching for a lead on their number one suspect, no one yet knew who the Architect was—the person thought to be behind the massive operation to kill all remaining Valkyrie operatives. After the clandestine CIA program was exposed and disbanded due to the media attention after one of its former trainers had been sent to trial for his crimes, all surviving Valkyries had become targets.

  The Architect had power, resources, and remained a lethal threat to them all. With the search ongoing, security here had been tightened. The team was now taking two-person shifts to watch for threats anywhere near the property.

  Given all of that, Bonfire Night couldn’t have come at a worse time for them. With every banger those teens set off, they were unknowingly playing with fire.

  On screen he watched a trio of boys ranging in age from about fourteen to seventeen or so cruise up the gravel road running in front of the property on their bikes. They paused near the front gate, lit a handful of fireworks and threw them toward the gatehouse, just as Megan and Ty had reported at the time.

  A part of Marcus was still convinced that the faceless enemy stalking his guests might try to attack tonight, using the fireworks to camouflage their initial attack. At the same time he told himself he was just being a paranoid bastard.

  There was no indication whatsoever that anyone had discovered Laidlaw Hall was now Valkyrie headquarters. On the off chance he was wrong, everyone here was on alert and doing patrols, making sure the premises remained secure, him most of all. This was his home. He considered it his responsibility to keep everyone here safe.

  After watching the video and checking the other feeds from around the property, he grabbed his cane and stood, the familiar stiffness and pain in his left hip and thigh making him pause for a moment. “Karas.”

  His rescue Anatolian Shepherd rolled from her side onto her belly and looked up at him expectantly from her cozy bed in front of the fireplace.

  “Come.” He started for the study door, Karas right behind him. “We’ve got work to do.”

  The house was quiet, all nine team members currently staying here each working on their assigned tasks. Everything was as he’d left it in the kitchen hours before, the smell of the roast already permeating the air.

  He strode out the back door into the formal garden and up the gravel path, past the stables to where he kept his ATV. Karas hopped into the front seat beside him, ears perked, and they started off over the pasture where he and a couple of the lads had piled some lumber last night.

  After constructing the big bonfire for tonight, he did a perimeter check of the entire several-hundred-acre property. Debris littered the grass near the northwest corner, evidence of more fireworks, but nothing else appeared touched, and none of the sentries had reported other disturbances.

  He made a mental list of repairs to be done around the property and stopped at the stables to let the horses out into the field before going back into the house to get the rest of the meal going. With the recent time change it would already be dark in another few hours.

  “Roast beef?” an eager voice said from the kitchen doorway.

  Marcus looked up from the meat he was tenting on a cutting board and smiled at Megan. “Aye.” His life had never been the same after meeting her, and it had all led to this.

  With an appreciative sound she walked over to peek under the foil. “Been a long time since we had one of those. What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s Bonfire Night and Mrs. Biddington has the day off, so I thought I’d make us a proper Sunday roast for tea.”

  “Tea?” She glanced at her watch. “You mean dinner.”

  He shook his head, smiling. Dinner to him was at midday. “Supper, then.”

  “Yum. I’ll help.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out an apron, quickly tying it around her waist. “What can I do?”

  The roast and potatoes he’d basted with the drippings were already done. “You can peel and prep the rest of the veg.”

  She made a face. “Fine.” She took the peeler and stood at the sink to begin peeling the pile of carrots. “You watched the security feeds yet?”

  “Aye. They’ve been setting off more in the northwest corner as well.”

  She grunted, dropping long, orange peelings into the sink as she worked. “They’ll stop in a couple days, but we’re all on edge enough already. What do you want me to do with these when I’m done?”

  “Slice them into chunks and drop them in that pot of salted water on the stove.”

&nbs
p; She reached for a paring knife from the butcher block on the counter. “When’s the last time we cooked together?”

  “A while ago.” Too long. Though they hadn’t spent much time together lately, they shared a special bond.

  The day they’d met, she’d pulled him from the jaws of certain death—against his wishes—and forced him to live. The least he could do when she’d needed protection after the Valkyrie Program was disbanded and she’d become a target was let her stay with him, but when she’d come here all those months ago, he’d never imagined how attached he’d become to her.

  They’d gone riding together often and he’d set up archery targets for her along the trails. Most evenings they’d sit in his study enjoying a hot brew and reading. But now that she’d married Ty and moved into the gatehouse, they didn’t spend a lot of time together anymore. He missed it.

  “Man, that roast smells good. Are you gonna make Yorkshire puddings too?” Her voice held a hopeful note.

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Of course.” It wasn’t a proper roast beef supper without Yorkshire puds.

  “Awesome. You’d better make extra, or we’ll all end up fighting over them. Where did you learn to make this, anyway?”

  “My Aunt Lucy.”

  Megan stopped and raised her eyebrows at him. “You never told me you had an aunt.”

  He shrugged. “Not a real one. Me mum’s best mate. She taught me to make a proper roast with all the trimmings when I was around twelve or so.” He wasn’t a fancy cook and didn’t cook all that often, but this was one meal he had down pat.

  Just as he finished tossing the potatoes and tenting the meat, a quivering black nose appeared over the edge of the granite countertop beside the roasting pan. Karas never strayed too far from him, especially in the kitchen in case something got dropped on the floor.