Page 53 of Capturing Victory

“Any questions?” The battle-hardened men just looked at him. His plan was simple. Go in, get the girl with as few casualties as possible. And once she was out, burn the place to the ground with everyone in it. “Let’s move out.”

The trek through the forests of Thailand was hot, humid and deeply uncomfortable. Ivan set a gruelling fast pace that would put them in Father’s encampment in less than twenty minutes. Keane should be thanking him for forcing them to jump into the middle of the jungle rather than travel bumpy, muddy roads for hours and then go by foot.

When they arrived close to Father’s base camp, Ivan’s men scattered at his silent order, taking position according to his instructions. He and Keane had developed their strategy based on real time satellite images sent to him every twenty minutes during their three-hour, twenty-two-minute flight from Indonesia to Thailand. There were several men scattered throughout the jungle guarding the encampment. Ivan’s people would take them down one at a time. No doubt they were expecting his arrival, were expecting an assault, but they could have no clue how swift or skilled his men were. They were about to find out.

Once they were in the camp, they would attempt to do as little damage as possible until they reached Jaya’s position. The last message he got from his secretary, five minutes ago, indicated that she was being held in a house at the centre of the tiny village, according to her locator chip.

Trusting that his men had done their job without complication, he walked boldly into the encampment without pause, Keane at his side. Two men came running toward them. They looked around Jaya’s age, maybe a little older. Keane made quick work of them, putting a single bullet in each man, headshots. Ivan turned to glare at his man.

Keane shrugged. “They’re probably under orders not to kill you. Fuck if I’m gonna die in this stinking mudhole.”

“I should drop you back in the desert where I found you,” Ivan said coolly, shaking his head as they made their way toward the hut where Jaya was supposedly being kept. He was surprised she wasn’t out in the open, where it would be easier for Father to plan an ambush.

“Better than jumping out of airplanes into this fucking bullshit,” Keane grumbling, lifting his semi-automatic and waving it at a man who stepped out of one of the small houses. The man looked startled but dropped his weapon a few feet away from his boots and then followed it to the ground, his arms over his head. The move might save his life.

Ivan’s men began descending on the village from their jungle positions, moving in one at a time, covering each other. They took the village with militaristic ease, working together like a well-oiled machine, each cog doing its job with precision. Father’s men were young, and while they tried valiantly to protect their home, they couldn’t match the skill and brutality of Ivan’s force. According to orders, Ivan’s people took the village with as few casualties as possible, quietly moving in, striking with swift ease, making it clear that Father’s men either complied or died. Most laid down their arms and gave up.

Ivan grabbed a man near the point where Jaya was being held and, gripping him by the hair and twisting viciously, asked, “Where is Jaya?”

“Who?” he asked, his eyes wide with fear. The stench of urine indicated his bladder had released. The dead body of his comrade at their feet probably didn’t help his confidence.

Ivan unsheathed his knife and held it to the man’s throat. It was a wicked looking blade with deep serrations along the sharp edge. His eyes took on the death chill that usually convinced those that knew him it was time to take a long walk in the opposite direction. “Where is the girl? The hacker?”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Ivan’s patience was beginning to ebb. He was considering disposing of this nuisance and moving onto fresh prey when the guy finally lifted a shaking hand and pointed at a home, slightly nicer than the one’s surrounding it. Ivan nodded, lifted the guy, turned him and slammed the knife into his belly, gutting him. The man screamed, a chilling sound. Ivan hoped his enemy heard and knew he was coming.

“How come you get to kill them and I can’t?” Keane asked, nudging the dying man with his foot. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

Ivan ignored him and bent to wipe his knife. Resheathing it, he stood and strode toward the house containing Jaya, intent only on collecting his woman. When he got to the door he turned and looked at Keane.

“Got your back,” the Irishman grunted.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ivan had come for her.

She sensed him well before Father’s men warned him that Ivan and his men were near. It was as though her heart knew the moment his feet landed on Thai soil. It started beating faster, the blood speeding through her veins in anticipation, rushing in her ears, distracting her. Soon she would be safe in the arms of her lover. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep breaths, forcing back the nausea that swelled in her gut at the confrontation to come. It was inevitable, she could do nothing to stop it, so she might as well calm herself. As Ivan would urge her to do. Nerves could get someone killed. She’d heard him yelling this at his men while training with them.

Conversation between herself and the man that professed himself her only family became stilted. There was less and less point in trying to reach a madman. As his life’s goal approached, his ability to listen to reason drifted away, if it had ever been there. Perhaps if she’d known his reasons for hunting Ivan years earlier she might have been able to reach him, but not now. Still, when the first bullets rang through his encampment, Jaya tried one last time to plead for his life, never once doubting who would leave victorious. Ivan never failed. And she had a plan to help him.

“He’s coming for you Father,” she said calmly. “And he won’t let you live. Not after you took me away from him. It was bad enough that you blew up his island, but he might have forgiven you that at my insistence. If you’d given up this vendetta.” Father approached her and looked down, his gaze as cold as hers. She was wasting her breath. But still, she had to try. For the sake of the child she’d once been. The child who had desperately needed rescuing and had clung to this man for support and affection. He had only given her one of the two, but it was worth something, worth his life if she could do something to save him. “Please, just go. Go away and save yourself! He’ll kill you and he’ll do it slowly and viciously. You don’t understand!”

He grabbed her arm and dragged her from the chair, positioning her in front of him. He turned so that they were facing the door and then he bent to speak in her ear. “I understand perfectly, my dear,” he murmured. “I never intended to leave here alive. I died the day he took my family.”

“Then why are you doing this?” she cried.

“I’ve watched and waited for years, trying to find something he loved so I could take it away from him.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I handed him the one thing he could love on a silver platter. Now I get to take her away while he watches. It will be my sweetest victory.”

A chill slithered down her spine as he lifted a gun and pressed it against the side of her skull seconds before Ivan stepped through the door. She was reminded sharply of the time Ivan had held a gun to her head, when he’d hugged her after dreaming of his family, of murdering Father’s family. Only she’d felt safe in Ivan’s arms, had known on a visceral level that he wouldn’t hurt her. Father intended to kill her, to use her to avenge himself.

“Jaya,” Ivan said, his voice cool, his eyes devouring her, starting at her feet and lingering on her face where bruises were beginning to show. “How are you, sweetheart?”

She took a few quick breaths to steady her voice and then said calmly, “I’m fine, Ivan. Though the hospitality here leaves something to be desired. I’m about ready to leave on the first flight out. I’m just shocked it took you so long to get here, I was about ready to pawn my bracelets to get out of here.”

“Enough!” Father snapped, waving his gun at Ivan before returning it to Jaya’s head. “On your knees, throw your gun away.” Ivan immediately did as Father demanded, tossing his gun to the side and kneeling on the floor. A detached part of Jaya’s brain noted that even in that position he was still the most commanding man she’d ever been around. He filled the space with his brutal, coolly dominant personality. Even in such a perilous situation it made her shiver, made her want to fly to him, snuggle against him and beg him to hold her.

“Do you know who I am?” Father demanded.

“Borjan Tadic,” Ivan said without pause. “Born 1964. You were among the men that came to my town of Rekovi in 1992 and massacred 77 people, my family included. I returned the favour by killing yours. I’ve known who you were almost from the moment you started hunting me.”