The next day, Ava stepped on the mat, ready to be the fighter he expected. She was prepared to take Remy by surprise, but he was always one step ahead. And while she held nothing back, even biting him at one point, she still couldn't defeat him. Out of the entire platoon, he was the one she couldn't pin . . . until she had an idea. If he wanted her to fight dirty, then she would.

She kissed him.

And it worked. He was so shocked at the kiss that he forgot to defend . . . and Ava unfortunately forgot everything else. She still didn't win the match. Well, in a way she did. He never looked at her the same again, and that had some very positive results.

Ava, now fighting again, this time without Remy at her side, wouldn't use those same tactics on this man. But she would break some rules. She kicked out, knowing he would block. As soon as his arm came down, she switch kicked, nailing him. Her target was his nether region, but he shifted just in time to evade.

All right, so he was a little more skilled than she'd originally thought. She would just have to try harder.

He came at her, this time faster. His attacks were so swift that Ava barely kept up. Was he getting better? His adrenaline must have spiked. Ava felt it too, the energy that hummed through her body, making precision hits difficult to control. She could hear it in her ears and see it on the fringe of her vision. It was a scary, magical beast that she had come to know well.

Ava dodged another a.s.sault only to get knocked to the ground as he came around and rammed her. As she fell, he was already on the move, ready to take her out. She knew in that instant that he didn't play by the rules either. And when he kicked her in the head, missing her eye by a fraction, she knew he was in it to the death.

The blow rattled her, causing her vision to blur momentarily. He was stronger than before. The adrenaline high magnified the murderous gleam in his eyes.

Ava pushed up from the ground. If he wanted blood, then that's exactly what he was going to get. She just hoped it would be his blood.

"If I was experimented on, why would Venom allow me to live?" Remy asked. The thought of being someone's lab experiment made his skin crawl. He would've known, wouldn't he? It's not like he was a small man who could be easily moved. No one person could carry him to a hotel room. A flash of red hair resurfaced from memories he had no recollection of. Her face was shaded, blurred into nothingness. Christ, he must have been lured.

"I don't think you were supposed to live," French answered. "The only reason Venom would leave you alone is if he thought you were dead." French scratched his jaw, a peculiar expression on his face. "Or maybe-"

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," French called.

A guard opened the door. "The jet is ready."

"Good. We'll be there in a moment."

The guard nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Remy stood, ready for action. While he still wasn't one hundred percent sold on French's involvement, he did need the man's help . . . and his jet.

French opened a desk drawer, withdrawing two revolvers. "You might as well gear up. We'll be landing near the Turkey/Iraq border. I had hoped to bring the crew, but it looks like it will be just you and me."

Remy took one of the guns to inspect it. "How do you know Ava is there?"

"I don't." French stood, taking the other gun. "But I recently heard of a man who was taken. The villagers say it was Venom. I want to hear the story."

"We don't have time. We have to find Ava and rescue her first."

"And how do you propose we find her? The only information we have is from a cryptic feed, demanding Venom. We have to follow all leads."

Remy shoved the gun into his waistband and headed to the door. "Then let's go."

"Have you ever been catapulted from a carrier before?" French asked nonchalantly.

Remy ran his hand over his head. "Are you frickin' kidding me?"

"The jet can't clear the runway." He clapped Remy on the shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll be fun."

"Catapulting a jet I'm sitting in doesn't const.i.tute as fun."

French shrugged. "Well, just fun for me, then."

Ava and her opponent circled each other, each bloodied and weak. Ava's adrenaline had run its course. She was left drained, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the dirt and nap.

While he still wore the cloth over his face, she didn't need to see his face to know he was hurting just as much-or that she had broken his nose. She'd heard a snap when she landed the right hook.

Ava smiled.

The man growled words that she a.s.sumed were unflattering. He struck out, catching a fistful of her hair. She let out a very embarra.s.sing high-pitched squeak as he yanked her toward him. Not a smart move on his part. She took advantage of the close proximity and kneed him in the groin so hard he let out an identical squeak and fell to his knees. She came down hard, elbowing him in the lights-out sweet spot. He sprawled, face first.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Ava winced as pain shot up her arm. Fresh red blood oozed around the dried. She must be more injured than she'd thought. There wasn't time to worry about that. She had to get to Natan and speak with him. She hoped he wouldn't be as difficult to reason with as this man had been. Ava had nothing left to give.

She reached down, her fingers gripping the man's face cloth. She wanted to see her opponent. In her mind, he was nothing but eyes and blank s.p.a.ce.

"Stop!" a voice shouted from behind her.

Ava dropped the cloth and straightened, feeling her muscles already starting to contract. She looked around to find she was surrounded. The armed militant group encircled her with expressions ranging from Natan's fury to Hollywood's amazement.

When did they arrive? She hadn't even noticed them. She doubted her opponent had either.

"I don't suppose you have a bandage," she said, not knowing what else to say. It wasn't as if there was an after-fight protocol manual. What did one say to a p.i.s.sed-off band of foreign-speaking militants?

"On your knees!" Natan ordered.

When Ava didn't budge, mainly because she couldn't feel her knees let alone her legs to bend them, he crossed over and shoved her down.

"I should kill you right now," he threatened.

Ava didn't bother responding; she knew it was a threat and nothing more. There was a reason he held her for ransom. He wouldn't jeopardize his only bargaining chip, especially for beating only one man. Well, two, if she counted the guard, but he was too easy.

She hazarded a glance up at Natan, who still pressed her shoulder to keep her down. "I didn't kill him. He'll wake up in twenty minutes."

He let out a sound of annoyance, jostling her flat to the dusty ground. Blood dripped onto the beige dirt, staining it.

He barked an order, something she couldn't understand. A few men stepped forward, one with binds for Ava and the other . . . what the h.e.l.l? Two men bent over the masked man and began tying his wrists and legs.

"What's going on?" Ava asked.

"You have no idea what you've just done!" he snarled, yanking her from the ground as soon as the bindings were tight. He shoved her to a guard. "Get her inside, now! Don't open the door for anyone."

Ava stumbled into the guard. She cried out as he grabbed her injured arm. He eased his grip but didn't let go. He hurried Ava to the building, and she wondered if he was rushing because of the order or because of something else.

A flurry of activity and calls caused her to look back. What she saw chilled her.

Chapter 13.

David paced the marble entryway as he waited for Greyson. Mya's voice floated from a room above, blanketing him with a calm he shouldn't feel, not with Remy MIA. She thought they were here to help Jenna redecorate, but David needed to talk to Greyson . . . if he'd hurry the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l up.

David rolled his eyes as giggles echoed along the marble. Jenna was head over heels for Greyson, her giggling a side effect of that ailment. G.o.d, had he ever been so ridiculously in love like that? Then he heard Mya laugh and his question was answered. Yes, and still ailing.

"Greyson!" David barked.

His brother wandered from the room above, peering over the railing. "What?"

"Did you forget that I was waiting?"

"No, I just don't care that you're waiting."

"Very funny. Get your a.s.s down here. I need to talk to you."

He didn't budge.

"It's important!"

"So is this," he said, pointing to the bedroom.

"They're decorating."

"I know."

David eyed his brother. "Have you lost your G.o.dd.a.m.n mind?"

"Most likely."

"Please," David grated.

Greyson's brows rose. He pushed off from the railing and jogged down the stairs. "I don't think you've ever said please to me."

"And you'll never hear it again."

Female laughter floated down again, distracting Greyson.

David grimaced. "You've turned into a lovesick a.s.s."

Greyson shrugged. "I'm okay with that."

"Can you get your head out of the clouds for a minute? It's about Remy," David whispered the last part, not wanting the girls to overhear.

"What about him?" Greyson asked, finally paying attention.

David dragged him over to the study and closed the door. "Remember Ava?"

"How could I not? I had to buy a new door and patio furniture."

"She was searching for Remy; they had hooked up years back."

"They were lovers?"

David cringed. "If you must use that word, sure. Anyway, he's MIA now."

"Maybe they hooked up again and don't want to be disturbed. I understand the feeling," he muttered, glancing at the door.

David shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from ringing Greyson's neck. He was going to have to tell Greyson the entire story so he could grasp the seriousness of Remy's predicament. Greyson wasn't stupid, not by a mile. And the lovesick dolt was a linchpin in David's plan.

"Sit down," David said. "I need to start from the beginning."

Remy clung to the safety harness that secured him to the jet seat. The plane was positioned on a runway, the nose secured to a piston below that was ready to fling them into the air.

"What happens if we don't get up to speed?" Remy asked.

"We take a swim," French said, a smile on his face. It faltered as he looked out at the runway.

Remy had noted a slight change in French's demeanor since they began cooperating with each other. French's prideful sullenness was giving way. Remy could almost see the young French reemerging. Remy was thankful for that. Too many lives were ruined already. But there was still something that was pulling French back. Something that was keeping him tethered down.

Or someone?

Ava.

A wave of nausea had Remy closing his eyes. He chalked it up to being stuck in a deathtrap, ready to be launched into the deep ocean. But he knew that was a lie. Remy didn't want to compete with French, but he knew it would happen. French would be an idiot to walk away from Ava after he'd loved her and protected her these past years. And how could Remy compete against that? He had shoved Ava away, labeling her a traitor, while French stood by her.

It was Remy who was the idiot.

And even though it might be too late to claim Ava's heart, he'd do everything in his power to find her, even if it meant being catapulted.

"Let's bring her home," Remy said, steeling himself.

"Are you ready?" French asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

"You do know how to fly this thing, right?" Remy asked, wondering why he hadn't asked that before.