Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games Book 2)

My answer hangs in the air between us for a long moment, seeming to grow heavier with every second that passes.

“Is he with you? Did he find you?” I ask desperately when neither of the men speak, even though I’m sure I already know the answer. I didn’t see Marcus standing with them when they walked up, and if he’d somehow managed to make his way to them, why would they be asking me if I know where he is?

Ryland shakes his head, his eyes shuttering as his jaw sets. “No. He didn’t.”

Something about the change in his expression and the tense lines of his face makes fear creep through my veins. It’s like he’s bracing himself. Hardening himself. Putting a layer of armor around his heart so that pain can’t penetrate it.

I squeeze his forearm tighter, looking from him to Theo and back. “Then where is he? I woke up and he was gone. He was just… gone. I can’t find him, and I don’t know who killed Carson, and—”

My tongue feels like it’s growing thicker. It’s too slow and unwieldy, making it hard to form all the words that want to spew out of my mouth. But it hardly matters anyway. It won’t make any difference if I convince Ryland that Marcus should be here. He’s not, and that won’t change no matter what any of us believe. I can’t argue my way out of this awful, basic fact.

I stop talking and drag in a breath, trying to refocus my thoughts. When I speak again, I force the words to come out slowly and evenly.

“I hit my head and blacked out. When I woke up, Carson was lying next to me, dead. And Marcus was gone. He was shot three times before we both went down. He was bleeding. A lot.” My throat tightens. “Maybe he could’ve regained consciousness and shot Carson somehow. But I don’t think he could’ve walked away. I don’t see how.”

Ryland’s face is still that same taut mask, as if he’s shoving down every emotion he’s ever had so he can process all of this rationally.

I wish I could do that. I wish I could fucking think straight, but the only thought that keeps running through my head is, where is he? Where is he? Where is he?

“Fuck,” Theo mutters, and I try not to let myself hear the heartbreak in his voice.

I glance between the two of them again, my stomach knotting itself into a hard lump. “What? Where do you think he is?”

“It’s not the first time someone has gone missing in the game.” Theo shakes his head. “When Xavier and Jack were killed, their bodies were never found. It makes cleanup easier and keeps evidence from leading back to any of us, or to Luca. There’s no rule that says you have to leave a body where it falls.”

Leave a body where it falls.

His words tear through my heart like a rusty knife, and I step back, shrugging out of Ryland’s grip. I want him to wrap his arms around me the way Theo did, to envelop me in his embrace and block out the world—but I don’t think I can handle being touched right now.

My skin hurts, as if it’s shrinking around my bones. As if I’m about to collapse down into nothingness like a black hole.

“You think he’s dead.”

It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement, monotone and blunt.

“No, Rose. I didn’t say that. We don’t know.” Theo’s voice is emphatic, but there’s a roughness to it that he can’t hide, and his eyes are haunted. I can’t tell if he’s lying to me or himself.

“Come on.”

Ryland is already moving before he finishes speaking, striding toward the body on the ground. He squats to examine Carson’s corpse, carefully keeping his feet outside the smeared puddles of blood that surround it. Theo takes my elbow, and although I flinch at his touch, I let him help me walk over to stand above Ryland.

The dark-haired man looks up at me over his shoulder. “Did you touch him at all?”

“His… his face.”

I gesture to the spot on Carson’s cheek that I brushed my fingertips over, and Ryland uses his sleeve to wipe it clean.

Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. I touched a dead man at what will undoubtedly become a crime scene, unless the guys are able to clean all this up before the cops get here.

That thought sends an added rush of urgency through me. We need to find Marcus so we can get out of here. We can’t afford to wait too long.

“There.” I point to the trail of blood I noticed before. “That goes around the corner and then continues on for a little way. And then it stops. Maybe Marcus—”

I break off, because I don’t know how to end that sentence. Maybe he what? Walked away from getting shot three times? Miraculously stopped bleeding somehow?

I’ve been shot. I know what it’s like. And it’s not the kind of thing you walk away from. At least, not fast enough to disappear completely.

Ryland’s head turns as his gaze lands on the bloody smear. He presses to his feet and follows it, tugging a gun from the waistband of his pants as he walks around the corner. Theo and I trail in his wake, and this time, we don’t stop where I stopped. We keep going, peering into the wide alleyways between buildings, scouring the ground for droplets of blood or any other sign that Marcus might’ve left.

My head still aches, and my heart feels like it’s working harder than it should to pump my blood, but I keep pace with the men, occasionally calling out Marcus’s name. None of us speak beyond that, an uncomfortable sort of silence that prickles with everything we’re not saying.

As we walk along the side of a low, squat building, the little hairs at the back of my neck rise, and my footsteps stutter. I start to turn around, praying to a god I’m not even sure I believe in that it’s Marcus—please, please, let it be Marcus—but before I can even complete the turn, I’m yanked backward roughly, shoved behind Theo as Ryland raises his gun.

My instinct wasn’t wrong. Someone was behind us.

But it’s not who I hoped.

Dominic steadies his own weapon with both hands. He’s a few yards away from us, having just stepped out from between two buildings. He’s got his gun aimed right back at Ryland, finger resting on the trigger.

A horrible feeling of déjà vu washes over me as the two men stand off.

No. God, no fucking way.

I can’t let this happen again. I won’t be able to survive it.

“You guys are being loud as fuck. You know that, right?” Dominic smirks. “It’s like you wanted me to find you.”

He’s got a black eye, and it looks a little like he’s favoring one leg. If he’s in pain, though, it’s taking a backseat to his smug excitement.

“Maybe we did want you to find us,” Ryland says evenly. He’s still as a statue, and his voice is so calm it’s almost hard to believe it’s coming out of a real person. It’s also impossible to tell if he’s lying or not. “Maybe we wanted to have a little chat with you. Where’s Marcus?”

Dominic’s brows twitch, pulling together for a second before relaxing. “How the fuck should I know? Last I saw him, he was running away from the car crash with her.”

He jerks his chin toward me, although he doesn’t take his gaze off Ryland. I know the only reason he hasn’t fired yet is because he’s not sure he’ll be able to take Ryland out without getting a bullet through the face first.

Ryland doesn’t even blink. He gives no outward reaction at all, just stares at Dominic with his gun aimed at the man’s heart. “Was he still there when you killed Carson? What did you do to him?”

Dominic’s eyes widen. “Carson’s dead?”

“Don’t act fucking stupid. And don’t think we’re stupid either.” For the first time since I told them Marcus had disappeared, emotion creeps into Ryland’s voice. He sounds pissed. Furious.

“I didn’t fucking kill Carson,” Dominic insists, glaring at him. “And I didn’t kill Marcus either, although I would’ve if I’d gotten the—”

He never gets to finish the sentence.

Like a bolt of fucking lightning, Theo moves. Dominic’s attention is focused on the obvious threat—the gun in Ryland’s hand—so he catches the movement too late.

He pivots, swinging the gun around to aim it at Theo, but Theo reaches him before he can fire. He pushes Dominic’s arms to one side as a shot rings out, and my whole body jerks at the sound as the bullet embeds itself in the side of the warehouse next to us. He keeps moving forward, using his bodyweight to shove Dominic backward. They stumble diagonally across the wide walkway between buildings before slamming into one.

Dominic lets out a deep grunt as his back thuds heavily against the wall. Theo grabs his hand and twists, and the gun falls from the other man’s grip, landing with a clatter on the ground. Ryland strides forward until he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Theo, jamming his own gun under Dominic’s chin and pressing up so hard that I’m worried he’ll snap the guy’s head off.

Not that I’d try to stop him if he did.

Dominic’s lips curl back in something like a snarl. He’s breathing heavily, pressed so tightly against the wall it’s like he’s trying to disappear through it.

“The only reason you’re not dead already is because I want answers, fuckhead,” Ryland growls, digging the gun into the soft flesh beneath Dominic’s jawbone. “So start talking before I paint this fucking wall with your brains.”

I’m not even sure Dominic can talk. I’m pretty sure the pressure on his lower jaw is pinning his mouth shut. Maybe Ryland realizes it too, because he eases off a little, although his knuckles are white as he grips his weapon.

Dominic’s blue eyes dart between the two men in front of him, then roll downward like he’s trying to get a look at the ground. He’s probably wondering where his gun is, and whether he’s got a chance in hell of grabbing it if he fights back.

I’m pretty sure the answer to that is no, but I dart forward anyway, scooping the gun up before he can even think of reaching for it. The metal is cool in my hand, and I grip it tightly as I straighten. The world swims in my vision from the sudden movement, making me grit my teeth as I try to keep from passing out.

“Talk,” Ryland demands.

Dominic’s chest is rising and falling fast. There’s fear in his eyes, but also an analytical sort of cunning—as if, even this close to death, he’s trying to find some way to spin this to his advantage.

“I didn’t kill Carson,” he finally says. “Or Marcus.”

“Then who the fuck did?”

Ryland’s voice is a low growl, and he digs the barrel of the gun into Dominic’s chin again, making the other man choke and gag. But when the pain on Dominic’s face fades, a small smile replaces it. He lifts his eyebrows slightly, his body relaxing.

“Check the time,” he says quietly.

Ryland freezes, his whole body going rigid as if Dominic hit him with an electric shock. “Theo?”

The tall blond man digs into his pocket for his phone, glancing down at it quickly. His shoulders slump. “Two minutes after twelve.”

“Fuck!”

Ryland fists the front of Dominic’s shirt, practically lifting him off his feet as he shoves the guy harder against the wall, digging the barrel of his weapon so deep into his skin it’s like he’s trying to use it as a knife instead of a gun. Dominic winces but remains relaxed. He stares steadily at Ryland, holding his gaze.

Finally, the broad-shouldered man curses again and steps back, releasing his grip on Dominic, although he keeps his weapon raised.

“That first answer was free.” Dominic rubs at his neck, stretching it from side to side to work the kinks out. “I didn’t have to tell you anything, but I’ve got nothing to hide. I didn’t kill either of them.”

“No,” Theo bites out. “You just teamed up with Carson and abducted Ayla, then ran us off the goddamn road.”

Dominic shrugs, still massaging his neck. “It wasn’t personal. You know that.”

“Well, it’s fucking personal now,” Ryland growls. “Tell us where Marcus is, or—”

“Or what?” Dominic shakes his head, looking oddly calm. “Seventy-two hours is up. The game is over. You know the rules as well as I do.” He hesitates for a second, then adds, “But I wasn’t lying about that either. I don’t know where he is. Whoever killed Carson probably killed him too. Dumped the body somewhere, maybe.”

My stomach pitches at the casual way he discusses death, as if it’s as mundane a part of life as brushing your teeth. I get the feeling he didn’t like Carson very much, that their partnership was one of convenience based on mutual benefit, but he doesn’t seem even a little upset at the idea that Carson is dead.

He probably isn’t, I think numbly. This puts him one step closer to winning the game. Every other player has to fall or swear allegiance to someone for that person to win, and Carson didn’t really strike me as the type who’d bow to anyone. Maybe Dominic is relieved to hear that his onetime ally is dead.

“Yeah, I do know the rules, Roth.” Ryland narrows his eyes, his finger still teasing the trigger of his gun. “But I swear to fucking god, if you are lying, you’ll pay for it. Fuck the game. Fuck Luca. If you killed Marcus, I’ll end you with my bare hands.”

Dominic cocks his head slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Careful, Bennett. You never know who might be listening.”

He casts a glance around at the large warehouse buildings that surround us, his gaze focused high on their walls, and my heart jumps as I dart a quick look that way too.

Cameras.

Fuck, if there are security cameras here, there must be cameras back near where Carson’s body still lies.

A dozen wild thoughts flit through my mind as I try to sort through the implications of that. If security footage of the last several hours exists, it must’ve captured the moment Marcus was shot.

And whatever happened afterward.

My breath quickens as I glance from Theo and Ryland, my chilled skin seeming to flush uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. The throbbing pain in my head is like a brand on my fucking brain, but I ignore it as I lower Dominic’s gun a little.

“The cameras. Can you access them somehow?” I have no idea how the fuck we would do that, but I know these men have access to plenty of shit I don’t. “If we—”

My words break off as a wave of dizziness slams into me, hitting me so hard I actually stagger backward. I brace the heel of my hand on my thigh, still clutching the gun I picked up earlier, as I try to breathe through the fog clouding my mind.

“Shit. She’s probably got a concussion. She looks like fucking death,” Dominic comments unhelpfully, and I wish I could stand up straight or even see straight enough to flip him off. But I’ve only got one hand, and I need that one to stay exactly where it is or I’ll probably keel over.

“Shut the fuck up, man. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” Theo’s voice is hard as glass, and a second later, Ryland’s arm loops around my waist.

He helps me stand upright, and when I wrap my arm around him, Theo plucks the gun from my hand. I don’t know what he does with it, but I’m pretty fucking sure he doesn’t give it back to Dominic.

“We gotta get her out of here,” Ryland says, his voice sounding a little muffled as my head swims.

“No!” I choke out, trying to push him away. “The cameras. You need to—”

“We can do both, Rose.” Theo steps forward, catching my face in his hands. The pads of his fingers are just a little rough, and the feel of his skin against mine grounds me a little. “We’ve got a guy who can help us. He’ll work on getting the footage while we get you looked at, okay?”

I want to argue. What he’s talking about sounds too slow. I want to see this guy. I want to stand over his shoulder while he works and tell him to go fucking faster. I want to keep threading our way in and out of the large warehouse buildings looking for Marcus.

But somehow, I know it would be pointless. Wherever Marcus may be, whether he’s alive or dead, he’s not here anymore.

“I’ll drive you,” Dominic offers. “You’re not gonna get your car to start.”

Ryland’s body stiffens next to mine, and his head snaps up. I get the feeling he’d rather grind Dominic’s face against the dirt until it was nothing but raw meat than accept a ride from him, but after a long, tense pause, he nods. “Fine. But we need to go. Now.”

Despite the throbbing pain in my head and the way the world seems to spin around me every time I blink, fear tightens my stomach.

This man helped kidnap me yesterday. He shot at us in the car and was in the vehicle that ran us off the road.

And now we’re going to accept a ride from him?