Fast Vengeance Page 2

  She was so much more comfortable with these women now than she had been at first. Even to the point that she no longer felt the need to keep the scars around her neck covered. The ones on her wrists and ankles, others scattered over her body didn’t bother her as much as the ones on her neck. They were healed but deep in places and ugly. No one looking at them could misunderstand what had caused them.

  She resisted the urge to pull her hair forward to hide them. Briar and Trinity knew she was a rape victim who had escaped the Veneno cartel. They didn’t look at her with pity or treat her like she was fragile. Instead, they had taught her how to fight back.

  Victoria had been working out with them once a week for several months now, learning self-defense techniques and basic hand-to-hand combat tactics. Enough for her to feel confident about her ability to defend herself if necessary moving forward. Just one of the ways she was preparing for the next life transition that lay ahead of her when she left the WITSEC facility, looming closer every day. When it would hit exactly she didn’t know, but she needed to be prepared for when it did.

  Because no matter what her future held, she would never be a victim again.

  Taking a final sip, Briar glanced at her empty wineglass for a second, then at her watch. “Eh, we’ve got time,” she announced, and poured herself another glass. “I love how anal your security team is about time. I could set my watch by them,” she said to Victoria. “I know the Marshals Service are the best when it comes to personal protection, but it’s been truly impressive to see little bits of how they work.”

  WITSEC was no joke. “They don’t mess around, that’s for sure.” Yet as good as they were, even the marshals weren’t impervious to threats from the Venenos. Only a few months back, the marshals had lost a key government asset in the ongoing fight against the cartel. Since that day, they’d tightened measures even more.

  “So, where are we meeting next week?” Trinity asked before taking a sip of wine.

  “Not sure yet.” Today they were at Trinity’s place, a high-end, secure penthouse condo where she lived with Brody Colebrook, a sniper for the FBI’s elite Hostage Rescue Team.

  “We could do it at my place. Matt would love to meet you,” Briar said with a grin. She was married to the HRT commander.

  “I’d like to meet him too,” Victoria said. Their sessions had only ever involved the three of them, so she hadn’t met their significant others. “I’ll have to run it past my security detail, see what the boss says.” The Marshals Service had only allowed these weekly training sessions in amongst the rest of her scheduled activities because of Trinity’s and Briar’s backgrounds and security clearances. Well, and because Victoria had an insider champion of sorts.

  DEA Supervisory Special Agent Brock Hamilton, the team leader for FAST Bravo. He’d set this whole thing up for her, to help give her more confidence and a sense of security while she tried to put the pieces of her life back together.

  “When does FAST Bravo get back from their deployment?” Briar asked, sneaking another berry.

  “This coming Monday.” Victoria had been counting down the days. Beginning on the night she’d escaped Ruiz’s clutches, when Brock and his team had stumbled upon her in the woods, he’d become an integral part of her journey on this path to healing. Not healing fully, but enough that she didn’t bleed inside every minute of every day.

  “If you talk to Brock again, tell him I said hi,” Trinity said. Between FAST Bravo and the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team, they were all part of a tightly-knit, slightly dysfunctional and badass family of sorts. They’d brought Victoria into their circle to help her, and she appreciated having that kind of support more than they would ever know, especially since her family was all dead.

  “So how are you feeling about next week?” Briar asked her, dark brown eyes delving into hers. “Anxious to get it over with?”

  Ruiz’s sentencing, she meant. “Yes. I think I’ll be relieved when it’s done.”

  “You will,” Trinity said with confidence.

  “Hope so.” Victoria had come a long way to get to this point. She’d endured months of intense therapy, battling her demons and fighting to find a new purpose for her life.

  After so many weeks of waiting to learn what the result of her painful testimony would be, Ruiz had finally agreed to a plea deal and sentencing was coming up next week. He wouldn’t get the death penalty now, but he likely would die in jail. That was the best Victoria could hope for at this point. It had to be enough. She refused to let him have any more power over her or her thoughts.

  “Are you gonna be there?” Briar asked her, topping up Victoria’s glass.

  “I’m going to wait and see how I feel.” Hard as it was to face that monster after what he’d done to her and all that he’d taken from her, she wanted to be there when he received whatever sentence the judge handed down. Whether or not she could go through with it remained to be seen. Her last interaction with Ruiz had been while she was on the witness stand giving her statement to the judge, and it hadn’t been pleasant.

  “You given any thought to what you’ll do after they release you from the facility?” Trinity asked, slapping Briar’s hand out of the way so she could take a strawberry.

  Other than start a new life under a new identity in another city? “Some.” The one-year mark from the day of the massacre that had taken her family and resulted in her captivity was coming up the week after the sentencing.

  It was more than an anniversary; it was a psychological marker, a line she had drawn in the sand. That was the day she had vowed to move forward again.

  “The hardest part is going to be finding a purpose after all of this.” And losing the few friends she had made here. When she left D.C., she would truly be starting fresh. Right now she was torn between going back to school to earn a psych degree and maybe become a counselor so she could help other trauma victims, or write fiction under a pen name. She already had notes and a partial outline for a book she had in mind that used some of her experiences as a captive.

  “Survival,” Trinity said flatly, a hard glint in her eyes. “You live your life to the fullest when they let you go, secure in the knowledge that the human pieces of shit responsible for it all are either dead or rotting in jail.”

  She lowered her gaze to her wine. “It doesn’t make the pain go away.”

  “No,” Briar said, sliding a hand over to cover Victoria’s, bringing her eyes up to meet that dark stare. “Nothing ever will. But you’re so strong. You’ll go on because you have to, and because if you don’t, then they win. And time will dull the pain eventually.” Her tone and the shadows in her too-old eyes told Victoria she spoke from personal experience.

  “I hope so. It’s true that I feel an obligation to really live after this, and try to find happiness on my family’s behalf.” They were dead, their dreams and hopes snuffed out within minutes. She swallowed. “The guilt isn’t ever going to go away, though.”

  “We get it,” Trinity said. “But eventually I hope you’ll live for yourself as well as them. That’s something we both struggled with for a long time,” she said, glancing at Briar for a second before looking back at Victoria. “When it all comes down to it, moving on and finding happiness really is the best form of revenge.”

  “Exactly.” Briar’s smile was sharp as a blade as she raised her glass in a toast. “To sweet revenge.”

  Victoria’s lips curved upward. Revenge had driven her all this time, fueled her and kept her going when all she wanted to do was lie down. It would see her through what came next as well. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “You doing something special to mark the occasion?” Trinity asked, holding up the plate of strawberries to them now that she’d had some. “Anything you might want to do?”

  She’d like to be able to go out in public like a regular person, without a security detail or having to look over her shoulder all the time. To go out to eat, or even to a movie. Maybe go away someplace quiet, a cabin in the mountain
s, and just be for a while.

  But before any of that, there was something else she had been thinking about…

  Her mind immediately latched onto the idea she’d been toying with for several months now. “Not sure. I think it should be something big, something I’ll always remember and look back on with a smile.” She paused, sipped her wine. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll go out on a date.”

  Trinity’s eyes widened in surprise and interest. She lowered her wineglass, her stare never wavering from Victoria’s. “You’re thinking about dating again?”

  Dating, no. Something else entirely, yes. “I’m thinking more along the lines of maybe climbing back into the saddle again, so to speak.”

  The women stared at her in astonishment, their gazes curious. “Wow,” Trinity murmured. “Are you…sure about that?”

  Victoria shrugged, unsurprised and unoffended by her reaction. After what Victoria had endured, having sex again seemed like her own personal Everest. A goal she needed to meet and conquer. “Just something I’ve been contemplating.”

  “Do you have somebody in mind?” Trinity asked, her expression concerned.

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe isn’t a no, so you obviously do.” Briar leaned forward, her expression eager now. “Since your options have been severely limited over the past few months due to your living arrangements and lack of social life, I’ll have to assume it’s someone we might know.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Spill.”

  Trinity chuckled softly. “Give it up, Briar. She’s never gonna tell us.”

  Victoria smiled into her wineglass, keeping the answer to herself.

  But yes. As a matter of fact, she did have a specific someone in mind.

  Chapter Two

  FAST Bravo had made it to the final day of another four-month tour in Afghanistan, conducting counter-narcotic and counter-terrorism missions with their Afghan colleagues. Before the team headed home, Brock had given the okay for the team to let loose a little. Beginning with this final superhero wrestling match featuring him and Maka: Captain America vs The Hawaiian Hulk.

  And right now Cap was getting his ass handed to him.

  “You gonna make your move, Cap, or what?” one of the guys asked him from somewhere close by as Brock struggled to fight his way out of Maka’s scary-powerful hold. Guy was built like a freaking tank.

  “Tag me,” Granger demanded, crouching next to them. He stretched out his hand, shaking it in front of Brock’s face.

  It took everything he had, but Brock managed to move enough to slap Granger’s palm. Abiding by the rules, Maka let him go and braced himself for his next opponent just as Granger gave a whoop of glee and pounced.

  Brock scrambled out of the way just in time as the two men grappled on the floor. Granger somehow was still on top of Maka. Time to end this.

  “Hold him down!” Brock shouted. Panting, he rolled to his feet as half the team dog piled on the big guy on the concrete floor. The other half stood by shouting encouragement from the sidelines, waiting for their turn to jump in to this last and epic championship wrestling match.

  Desperate to defend his title, Maka struggled to extricate himself and amongst the tangle of limbs Brock’s gaze shot to the belt strapped around his teammate’s waist. The ugliest damn wrestling championship belt ever made, comprised of paracord, duct tape and the front case of a claymore. But as team leader, it was a matter of pride that Brock take it from him. And besides, after a solid two months of parading it around Bagram while mocking the rest of them for not being able to take him, Maka had this coming.

  “Hurry up,” Granger growled to Brock, his bearded face now twisted with strain as he did his best to hold onto Maka, who was done playing and trying to throw guys off him amidst guttural snarls.

  Brock crouched down just out of range of Maka’s big, flailing boots, eyes locked on his target, and waited until his guys had Maka mostly pinned for a moment. Then he seized his moment.

  Diving forward, he grabbled hold of the belt with both hands and yanked it free from Maka’s waist with a satisfying pop. “Got it!” he shouted, jumping to his feet to hold it over his head in triumph.

  Still trapped under a pile of teammates, Maka glowered up at him, one dark brown eye swelling a little. “Doesn’t count,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, bucking like an enraged bull. “I’m still the champ.”

  “Brains over brawn, my friend. Can’t be champ without the belt,” Brock said, enjoying rubbing it in as he wound the belt around his own waist.

  Maka let out a roar, the veins standing out in his neck. Hoots and hollers followed. A second later, Prentiss lost his grip on Maka’s legs and went flying, crashing back into the folding table leaning against the wall.

  “Get the tables,” Granger called out, grinning like an idiot as he got clear of the writhing mass of bodies and raced around to drag it out and unfold it. Maka swore and fought two more guys off him, but two more jumped in to keep him in place.

  They’d already broken three tables during the deployment, but they were leaving base to head home in a couple hours, so what was one more? “Well, if we have to we have to,” Brock said with a mock sigh, and started toward Maka with an evil grin.

  Maka hit him with a lethal glare, his face barely visible from the midst of the headlock Rodriguez currently had him in. “You bastards, don’t you dare—” Whatever else he was going to say was cut off amidst another scuffle.

  Two more guys jumped into the fray, laughing like maniacs. Brock waded in, managed to grab Maka around the hips and hold on as they hoisted the big guy off the floor and carted him toward the waiting table. “Get ready,” he warned, fighting a laugh. Maka wasn’t going quietly, either. Five of them were holding various parts of him, and still the guy wouldn’t be subdued.

  It took some doing, but together they managed to coordinate their movements and hoist Maka above their heads. He stopped fighting, going rigid because he knew what was coming. “You assholes,” he snarled.

  “He’s mine.” Brock moved into position beneath him, grabbing him by the waistband and planting his other hand between Maka’s shoulder blades. “On three,” he ordered the others, ignoring Maka’s continued threats. “One. Two… Three.”

  With everyone’s help, he shoved Maka higher into the air and used the momentum to slam his back flat against the tabletop. The hinges shattered, the cheap plywood snapping like a dry twig under the force of Maka’s huge frame. A cheer rose up as man and table crashed to the floor with a thud.

  Maka grunted, rolling on his side to slay them all with a lethal look.

  “And the Hawaiian Hulk is still okay,” Granger announced with a laugh.

  Breathing hard, face red and covered in sweat, Maka cursed under his breath as he slowly got to his knees. He stayed there for a moment, turned his head to nail Brock with a resentful scowl. “Doesn’t count,” he panted.

  “It totally counts,” Brock informed him, sliding his hands over the belt. “Fits me perfectly, too. I think I’ll wear it home on the flight.”

  Maka grunted and struggled to his feet while the team teased him. His expression softened a moment later when someone tossed him a beer. By the time they got on the plane for the first leg of their journey home, Maka merely threw Brock a dirty look before gingerly settling back in his seat.

  Time and distance blurred on the trip back to Virginia. By the time they arrived at Quantico at 07:00 local time, everyone was tired but ready for the full day already scheduled.

  Back at headquarters that afternoon, Brock groaned and stood on tiptoe to stretch his arms over his head. Commander Taggart hadn’t wasted any time in putting them through their paces on their first morning back stateside. They’d done PT together as a team at 08:00 and had been going full out ever since. Even Maka, who was pretending not to be stiff and sore even though they all knew better.

  Brock’s shirt was soaked with sweat, sticking to his body when he pulled his tactical vest over his head. “Does it feel to a
nyone else like we never even left?”

  To his right, Rodriguez barked out a laugh and kept cleaning his Glock. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Feels good to be back. Home sweet home, boys,” Colebrook said with a grin to Brock’s left as he packed away his gear into his locker.

  “Guess Taggart was worried we might have lost our edge over in our favorite stomping grounds. We’re lucky he let us knock off a couple hours early,” Brock said. “Personally, I’m looking forward to heading home and catching up on my sleep.” His internal clock was all screwed up from the time change. Except for him and Lockhart, the rest of the guys were no doubt anxious to get home to their women.

  “Hmm, I dunno, we’ve been sharing rooms for so long, maybe you guys should bunk together tonight, so Cap doesn’t get lonely,” Granger called out from the back of the room.

  Brock smirked and shook his head at the ribbing. The team could always count on Granger having an endless supply of comebacks and sarcasm. “Had my fill of sleeping next to you guys at Bagram, thanks. And for the record, Granger, you snore like a fucking chainsaw. I don’t know how Taylor stands you.”

  Granger stood up from lacing his boots and gave him a cocky grin. “Because I make up for it in other ways that I intend to put to good use tonight.” He bounced his auburn eyebrows up and down for emphasis.

  Brock huffed out a laugh. “I don’t wanna know, man. And now, if you’ll all excuse me, and since being team leader has at least a few perks, I’m taking first shower.” He headed off to the shower room, smiling at the verbal jabs called out after him.

  After a hot shower and changing into jeans and a Henley shirt, he opened up his locker and took out his phone. He’d missed one call from his bank, and another from Victoria Gomez. He smiled, pleasantly surprised, and waited to call her back until he was headed home in his truck because he wanted to talk to her in private.

  Their history was pretty complex, almost as complex as his feelings toward her. Since the night she’d escaped from the cartel not quite a year ago, he and Victoria had formed a bond of sorts. They’d attended various meetings and briefings pertaining to Veneno investigations together over the past twelve months, all strictly business related. But his favorite were the times when they got to meet at the range so he could teach her how to shoot, just the two of them, while her security detail camped out in the lobby.