Page 41 of Addiction

Alexander

Bennett and the guns-for-hire Kenner had employed had been trekking through the trees for what seemed like hours before the tiny lodge came into view. Bennett’s feet ached from the endless march, the mindless banter doing little to improve his mood.

It had been some time since they’d discovered the bloodied body of the red-haired moron Craig had called Johnson. There’d been no sign of Bowman or Ella with the corpse, the ‘lack’ of them only amplifying his agitated concern.

He killed Johnson. Bennett pulled in a shaky breath. He knew Bowman was a killer, but he’d thought Bowman had put those days behind him. Bennett hadn’t expected the asshole to demonstrate the point quite so brutally.

Where’s Ella?

Bennett didn’t think he’d ever be able to ‘unsee’ the state Bowman had left Johnson in, and knowing what the bastard was capable of, he dreaded to think how poor Ella was faring.

She has to be waiting for me in the cabin.

That thought had helped whenever his weary limbs had complained about the arduous hike. He wanted Ella to be okay—needed to know she hadn’t been subject to the same fate as Johnson—but in truth, his pledge to come along had been more about coming out of the venture a hero in his daughter’s eyes. Bowman would surely have told her why she was there in the first place. No doubt the bastard had painted Bennett to be the ultimate bad guy. He needed to be the one who marched in with the troops and swept Ella to safety. Otherwise, any chance of a future relationship with her would effectively be over.

Why do I give a damn?

He scowled as his boot caught on yet another tree root. If he never saw another tree again, he’d be a happy man.

Maybe I’m just not father material, after all.

That was a freaking understatement, but it was too late to dwell on the past. For some reason, when Susie had demanded a paternity test, he’d elected to get to know his daughter. Looking back, it had been a vanity project, an extension of his own ego to meet the young, confident, and attractive woman who he’d helped to create, but that didn’t make him her dad. Only stepping up and putting her first would help to elevate him to that platform. He’d chosen to come with Craig and the other buffoons to find her, and he wouldn’t leave the bloody forest until he had Ella in tow.

Leaning against an old trunk for support, his attention rose to the clamor of excitement reverberating from the other men. Craig had been the first one to spot Bowman’s cabin, and peering into the distance, Bennett’s gaze settled on the small, wooden structure.

Ella. Low panic constricted in his chest as his focus speared the obscure-looking hut. Is that where he’s keeping you?

The building hardly seemed larger than an average garden shed. How could Bowman have chosen to spend time there? His brow furrowed as the query bandied in his mind, but deep down, he realized it was only there to shroud the real question resonating in whatever remained of his soul—how could anyone give their own child over to a monster who lived like that?

A dark chill raced along his backbone as he considered the accusation. How had he done that?

“We found the place.” Triumph echoed in Craig’s voice as he turned back toward the mob.

Bennett couldn’t decide how he felt about the guy. Craig was an arrogant prick, but he seemed to know his way around the forest. Bennett might have been able to abide the smug conceit in Craig’s eyes had he not taken such obvious glee from being the head honcho of the motley crew. Even though it was Bennett’s daughter who’d been held in the desolate place for days, Kenner had deigned to put Craig in charge of the gun-wielding mob, and upon realizing the men appeared to respect his authority, Bennett had decided to roll with the aggravating situation. Better that the collective acted to find Ella as quickly as possible. Bennett knew his resistance to Craig’s leadership wouldn’t help anyone, least of all his daughter, but it didn’t make Craig’s cocky glare any easier to tolerate.

“About fucking time,” grumbled one of the mindless goons who had traipsed behind Craig. The jerk turned, revealing a crooked smile to those gathered closest to him. “I was starting to think this place didn’t exist.”

Turning back to their destination, Bennett was almost inclined to agree. The cabin was positioned in a tiny clearing up ahead of their current position. Superficially, everything looked quiet, but Bennett knew Bowman too well to trust everything he saw.

“Be careful,” Bennett warned as he jogged past the others to try to catch up with Craig. “Remember, Bowman is a trained marksman. He could take any of us out from there.”

“We ain’t worried about fucking Bowman,” spat another of the morons Kenner’s money was paying for.

“No.” Craig’s expression was serious as he gestured for the group to stay back. “Bennett has a point. Bowman is a good shot, and Bennett helpfully already called to give the guy a head’s up. He knows we’ll be coming.” Numerous narrowing eyes slid in Bennett’s direction, the atmosphere strained as each man’s gaze echoed the unspoken accusation.

“Yeah.” A particularly ugly fucker sneered in Bennett’s direction. “Thanks for that, asshole.”

“I had a deal with Bowman.” Bennett shrugged, although he didn’t know why he felt he needed to defend himself to any of those idiots.

They were no one. Fingers and triggers with very little brains. Their opinions should have been irrelevant, yet Bennett knew any of them could report back to Kenner and slant his benefactor’s perspective of him. That idea clawed at his insides, ratcheting up his alarm. In the short term, at least, he needed Kenner in a tangible way. He couldn’t let anything fuck up his financial resources.

“We should surround the cabin and go in methodically,” Craig reasoned. “We found Johnson, and we know he’s fallen foul of Bowman’s skills. We need to make sure we go in clean and collect the asset.”

“That asset is my daughter.” Bennett couldn’t hide his disdain. It was true he’d never shown women much respect in his life, but there was something insidious about hearing his own flesh and blood spoken about as though she was a possession.

The way I treated her, you mean?

He swallowed at his wry self-analysis. He had treated Ella like shit, but that didn’t mean he’d stand by and let anyone else do the same.

---