Page 103 of Their Cruel Love

And there is Aimee.

“She has ninja skills. I knew it.”

Aimee notices us and gives me a thumbs up with a rueful smirk. She touches her cheek where red-blue bruises already show. I am totally suspicious of her training—not ex-military? Uh-huh—but who cares. Not me.

Blood still winds a path down my leg though it has slowed. I stare at the red trail in disbelief. I’d nearly forgotten.

A woman in uniform has seen the wound and comes to me. She crouches and studies my rear.

“Of all the places to get hurt,” I joke, fumble a laugh. Ineed to relieve this wound-up nasty tension. My hands have begun to tremble.

“Let me fix that. You’ll need sutures. Lie over here on the?—”

“Wait.” I splay my hand, palm down.

A soldier is helping up Bastion, dusting the man off.

I bend over and snatch up the katana, a move that makes me regret the abruptness. Pain makes me hiss. I’m not sure what I’m needing the sword for except to wave it and threaten. The merc or security guard inspecting my ass, whatever it is they call themselves, she stands and steps aside.

I guess I did swing the sword a mite randomly.

“Come.” I limp toward Bastion, and I hope murder is written on my face because I want him to know it is coming, to dread it as I did. To piss his fancy pants, if possible. Razor and Marcus flank me, saying nothing. The three of us advancing on him must look ominous.

He only backs away unhurriedly.

Off to the left, a rope drops to the ground from above, coiling, signaling the lowering of someone new.

I halt and crane back my neck. Dust swirls, grit gets in my eye, and I peer upwards, shielding my face. My grip on the sword tightens. I hand it to Razor. If I didn’t, I might stab my stepmother before she even touches dirt.

Mother places her petite boot on the ground, and a soldier starts to release the catches.

Mother is here, in the middle of these murders. I am truly shocked.

She’s wearing a cute black-and-white sundress with a flared hem and leggings underneath, luckily, because the wind from the rotor blades blows the dress up like an upside-down umbrella. Already, I’m hoping she expires of sunstroke.Knowing her, she will be back in air-conditioning before the hour is over. This visit will be for show.

“God has arrived!” Sarcasm from Marcus? I must be infectious.

“Now we know who these guys belong to,” Razor adds.

Marcus half turns. “Killing the bad guys wasn’t a clue?”

“They do need a CNC Fraternity badge.” I’m being flippant. Anonymity is probably their catchphrase. I wonder which country would be in charge of the investigation if word of this operation leaks.

The harness is slipped from her. The helicopter skims sideways, out to sea, leaving us in relative peace, and she puts her hands on her hips and looks to Bastion. “Thank you. Well done!”

We are in a triangle here—us, Bastion, and Mother, and she seems reluctant to get nearer to anyone.

“Why, Mother? Why thank him? What has he done? If anyone deserves to die?—”

Bastion butts in. “I am the reason your signal went through. Once I saw what happened to Simon and knew there must be a mole, I saw the light, Phoebe. I have expedited the dismantling of Killer Crew. Your mother recognized my contribution.”

“Yes. We have smoothed over our differences, daughter. If you were more cognizant of finances and the fraternity, you’d know some people are too big to be removed. These others…” She waves lazily at the corpses that are currently being tagged and pulled into a pile, “These are easier to clean up after. We can cover the tracks. The main thing is that you and I have succeeded. The snuff films are no longer going to be made. And the fraternity is safe.”

“Really. The latter is all you care about, not justice.” My anger is refusing to abate.

“We have success, dear, and I am actually quite proud of you.” Her eyebrow arches.

I survey the slaughter again then look to Bastion. “I, Marcus, and Razor are pissed at being used so blatantly. You knew what we were walking into. And this scum!” I jab at Bastion. “Is evil as fuck.”

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