Page 1 of On the Double

1

CASH

I heldmy gun in my hand as we prepared to land. Knives were strapped to my legs. Magazines were clipped to my belt. My rifle was slung across my back. This would be a bloody battle. I was prepared for the worst, and with Fox by my side, I nodded to him, knowing he held the same bloodlust as I did.

Not because he particularly liked Rafe, but because I was hurting, and Fox felt every ounce of my pain. He embraced it and wielded it as a weapon.

Looking out the windows of the chopper, I watched as every helicopter surrounding the island converged, ready to take out the last remaining men on Zavala’s island. There was a new leader, but he wouldn’t make it past dawn. Every man and woman from OPS and Reed Security was here with me today to rip these fuckers from the earth and make them pay for their actions.

“Thirty seconds!” Scottie announced.

The last thought I had before we landed was that I found it curious that Scottie hadn’t vomited once this trip. Whether it was the calm we all felt as we made our way across the ocean or the fierce need for retribution, he flew like he had never had an issue before.

Though, I wouldn’t mind a little tactical vomit for these fuckers.

The helicopter rocked slightly as we touched down. The whirring of the blades was all I could hear over my steady breathing. I watched as men poured from the compound, rushing toward us with their weapons drawn, but the usual rush of adrenaline didn’t hit. I was calm, one hundred percent in my element as my boots thudded on the ground with an ominous boom.

Everything moved in slow motion as I looked around the island, counting the assholes in my head. Every one of them would pay for the part they played not only in Rafe’s death, but in Isabelle’s capture and continued torment.

With a final look around, time sped up and I fired the first shot. I heard my men surrounding me, firing right alongside me as I rushed into the fray of battle. Anger and torment surged through me with every bullet I fired.

But it wasn’t enough just to kill them. I wanted them to suffer as he had.

I holstered my weapon, glancing at Fox as he stood beside me, and drew my knives. A satisfied smirk slid over his face as he did the same. Then, he surprised me, drawing a second set and handing it over to me. I spread the knives, running my fingers over the gold-plated metal, swirling with a filigree pattern around Rafe’s name that was engraved on the side of the blade. I slid the first blade wide, seeing Isabelle’s name on the second. The pattern repeated with each blade.

My eyes locked with Fox’s and I nodded in gratitude. I ran flat out at the men firing at us. I didn’t think about the bullets flying at me or the danger of the situation. There was only revenge. Blood coated my face and hands with each swing of my blade.

I vaguely heard Fox call my name. As I spun, I saw two men running at me. I flipped the blades in my hand and released them both, splitting the blades like Fox had taught me. I didn’t have the same precision as Fox, but was still able to kill both. One knife landed in the man’s throat, while the second blade hit the man in the chest. I walked over to him, staring down at the man as he struggled to breathe. He stared up at me, his eyes wide as his lips faintly moved. I imagined he was pleading for his life—either that or a quick death.

Rafe received neither of those.

I crouched on one knee and tore the knife from his chest, running the blade along the length of his neck, but not actually cutting him. Bending down, I whispered in his ear, “Tell me where he is and I’ll make your death quick.”

Gasping for air, he said only two words.

The basement.

He was taking refuge in the very place he kept the men and women he tormented. I slid the knife across his neck, killing him instantly. I wiped the blade on his clothes and stood, walking through the carnage to the house. I knew Fox was behind me the whole way. As for my father, he was somewhere around here, taking his own revenge on the men who killed his son.

I stormed into the house, my gun drawn as I rounded the corner. Fox moved down the hall ahead of me, clearing it as I followed. I tapped him on the shoulder, telling him we were good to move. We met very little resistance as we cleared the house. When we finally reached the basement stairs, I grabbed Fox’s arm.

“I’ve got this.”

“Boss—”

With a shake of my head, he backed down. I didn’t care if he followed me down there, but this asshole was mine. Standing to the side, I swung the door open and waited for the inevitable gunfire that never came. I carefully moved down the stairs. I was eager to get this asshole, but I wasn’t stupid. As soon as I hit the bottom step, bullets ate up the wood at my feet. I turned and sighted the man in the corner, firing a single shot into his leg.

His pained yowl echoed off the walls of the basement. He started firing like a madman, desperate to fight to the death and stay alive. But in his panic, his shots weren’t controlled. I ran at him, knowing it could end my life, but it was a chance I was willing to take. I had to take him alive. There was no way I’d end his life in this sad basement when he deserved so much worse.

My body slammed into his and then we hit the wall. My earlier thoughts fled as I smashed my fist into his face. He smirked at me through his fear, and that’s when I realized who this fucker was. I saw him through my scope on the day my brother died. This asshole waslaughing, spilling alcohol on the flames as my brother was tortured. Images of my twin burning at the stake flooded my mind, making me lose all control and reason. I wanted this man dead. I wanted him to suffer.

“Boss,” Fox said behind me.

But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The rage consumed me, making it impossible to control myself. His face was bloodied and a few teeth were missing, but still, I didn’t stop. Arms grabbed at me, dragging me away from the nearly lifeless body. I fought to break free, my whole body shaking as I stared at the man by my feet.

Slowly, reason and objectivity resurfaced and I remembered what I truly wanted. I shook off Fox, taking a step back. He walked around me and hauled the fucker over his shoulder, nodding to me as he headed for the stairs. I had never seen Fox quite so silent as I did today. Part of me wished he would make some joke or use the word clearly. The other part of me appreciated that he knew there wasn’t much I could handle other than making these fuckers pay.

As we marched out of the house, the gunfire had died down. Bodies littered the property, but none of them were ours. Fox tossed the fucker down on the ground and I grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him over to the stake where they had murdered Rafe.

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