The Relentless Hero Read online

  The Relentless Hero

  Hero in Paradise Series

  Angel Vane

  Contents

  Just for you …

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Epilogue

  Exclusive Offer

  Also by Angel Vane

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  BonzaiMoon Books LLC

  Houston, Texas

  www.bonzaimoonbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by BonzaiMoon Books

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Angel Vane has been entertaining readers with her brand of crime thrillers for women. Now you can get one of her novellas for FREE, you just need to go to the link and tell her where to send it:

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  Prologue

  The door of the black SUV opened.

  Tubeec Hirad stepped out, then glanced up at the Global Exchange Building. Slipping the cell phone into the inner pocket of his tailored Armani suit, he dodged a group of young aspiring corporate types as he made his way to the revolving doors.

  The call had gone as he’d expected. Tubeec marveled at the unwillingness to take his threats seriously. He had a reputation for never bluffing, yet time and again, he was forced to exact a toll on unsuspecting targets because their loved ones refused to comply with his demands.

  Passing through the modern chrome lobby, Tubeec waved to the security guards who’d grown accustomed to seeing him enter and exit the building at various hours over the past two months.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Henderson.” The guards greeted him. They believed he was Mitchell Henderson, as his security badge indicated.

  Just another hard-working investment banker with the private equity firm housed on five floors of the building.

  Stepping into the crowded chrome elevator, Tubeec reached past a woman dressed in a short mini skirt and pressed the button for the sixth floor. She recoiled, her eyes locked on his scarred hand. She didn’t turn to look at him. A pity. She would have been surprised to see that he was still a relatively handsome man. The fire had ravished over eighty percent of his body, but his disfigured skin was mostly hidden underneath his expensive suit.

  As the elevator stopped on each floor, ushering workers on and off, Tubeec inhaled the flowery stench of the woman’s perfume. He regarded her flat ass in the tight skirt. She had a pretty face, but her body would do nothing to arouse anything more than mild interest in him.

  The computerized voice announced “sixth floor.”

  “Excuse me,” Tubeec said, brushing past the young woman, glancing at her breasts as he exited the elevator. She gave him a seductive smile, no doubt relieved that his face wasn’t as grotesque as his hand. Another day, Tubeec would have made her pay for her relief, making her wish she’d never laid eyes on him. Today, he had more pressing business.

  Alone in the hallway, he proceeded to the stairwell and took the stairs, two at a time, up the four flights to the tenth floor. Maneuvering through thick plastic covering the open doorway, Tubeec walked into the construction zone, a large, empty space.

  Fading late afternoon sunlight stretched across the floor from the box windows lining the walls. The Global Exchange building had been the right choice, although Tubeec had been skeptical at first. Utilizing the space currently being renovated for the Deputy President of Kenya, Kipsang Rono, was risky. Tubeec had taken advantage of the delay in construction as the government shifted focus to the political primaries that would begin in the next few months.

  His dark wingtip shoes, powdered with the dust of construction debris, were silent against the concrete floor. The thirteen men were oblivious to his approach, lost in the thunderous cacophony of preparation for their roles in the final stages of his plan. The militants had posed as businessmen, entering the building dressed in expensive business suits similar to his own. Each held a suitcase containing a change of clothes and the equipment and weapons they’d need to complete the delicate operations.

  Snippets of conversation reached Tubeec’s ears. The trained killers bragged about last week’s conquest. Each man insisted he’d pleasured the innocent teen girl the best as if the necessary sacrifice had brought her any pleasure. Tubeec felt no guilt for his part in the gang rape of the young woman. She was a means to an end. A way to control the boy and make him do what Tubeec needed.

  As he passed each member of his specially assembled team, a hush fell across the large room. Movement ceased as the men engaged in a synchronized salute, then took an at-ease stance waiting for a sign from him. Tubeec scrutinized them. Each man had been chosen not only because of superb skills but also because of the discretion shown in numerous operations in the past.

  But this wasn’t a typical operation.

  In fact, it was one of the most complex assignments Tubeec had ever orchestrated. A brazen endeavor he couldn’t resist. Targeting one of the richest and most powerful families in Africa could cost him his freedom.

  Originally, he’d had no plans to complicate this mission, preferring instead to keep things simple. The universe had other ideas, presenting him with an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, as the saying went.

  Completing the inspection of the men, Tubeec stalked toward an empty corner of the room to a window that overlooked the Tribal Museum and Irungu Center across the street. He could feel the eyes of the men tracking him as they resumed preparation for the job.

  Tubeec wiped the sweat from his face. The rough texture of his scarred hand against the only smooth skin on his body was a welcomed reminder of the past. Today was the anniversary of the worst day of his life. The day
he’d been transformed from a scientist into one of the most dangerous men in Africa.

  Some said he was insanely treacherous and unpredictable. Others whispered that he had no soul and had never felt remorse for the atrocities he’d performed.

  They were wrong. His soul had died ten years ago today, January 13th, when he watched his twin sons hacked to death with machetes and his wife gang raped by government-sanctioned soldiers. He’d tried to beat them away from his family, but his efforts were futile. The soldiers bound him to a nearby tree, sprayed his body with gasoline, and tossed a match onto the brush underneath his feet. Squirming and screaming as the fire climbed up his body, he’d somehow managed to free himself. Howling his anguish, he’d staggered and stumbled toward his wife and twin sons, left to die in a nearby field. His wounded screams pierced the still air as he gathered their mutilated bodies in his arms.

  In his grief, he’d become a monster.

  Making others suffer as much as he’d suffered became his addiction, his reason for living. Until he was reunited with his family again, he would kill and destroy. Never would anyone make him feel helpless and afraid. Instead, he would be the one to wield fear as a weapon, daring anyone to try to hurt him again.

  The success of this mission would give him what he most desired—revenge. The power to destroy those who’d destroyed the life he’d had before.

  “Cangrejos!” Tubeec commanded, his voice echoing through the room.

  Frantic footsteps thundered across the concrete floor, stopping mere feet behind him.

  Tubeec turned and glared at his second in command, a loyal foot soldier he’d rescued from a Panamanian mafia hit a few years ago.

  “Who’s on the strike team?” Tubeec asked.

  “Yasir, Bashiir, Liban, and Zahi,” Cangrejos responded, his arms clasped behind his back as he stared at the ground, not meeting Tubeec’s eyes. “They are equipped and ready.”

  “Bombers?”

  Cangrejos said, “Dalmar, Harbi, Xirsi and Suleymaan.”

  “Were the explosives created to my specifications?” Tubeec asked.

  “Yes, sir. Bombers will be deployed to the designated areas inside the Tribal Museum on your command.”

  “Who’s left?” Tubeec asked, although he already knew the answer.

  “Rahim, Assad, Geesi, and Nadifa. They will accompany you into the Irungu Center. I will personally serve as the lookout and drive the truck once the mission is complete, as you requested,” Cangrejos said.

  “Are all of the targets still inside the building?” Tubeec asked.

  Cangrejos confirmed, “Yes, we have visuals of Wangari Irungu, Isaac Gatobu, Grace Kadenge, and Mena Nix. All four targets are in the building and expected to remain there until five o’clock.”

  “And the flower delivery truck?” Tubeec asked.

  “Left the shop two minutes ago and will be arriving in ten minutes.” Cangrejos’ answer came.

  Pleased, Tubeec said, “Wrap up the preparations.”

  Cangrejos nodded, then turned and rejoined the rest of the militia, issuing final instructions to the team.

  In a matter of minutes, terror and destruction would be unleashed onto an unsuspecting group of presumably innocent people at the Tribal Museum in downtown Nairobi. No one would expect another attack so soon. Three days ago, a suicide bomber had disrupted a private fundraising dinner for President Noah Thairu on the museum rooftop. His source within the police department confirmed that no group had claimed responsibility.

  Tubeec knew that no group would.

  The suicide bomber hadn’t been trying to kill the beloved Kenyan president. The attack had been part of Tubeec’s complex plan to observe and assess the Kenyan police’s response to terrorism. Critical information that had allowed him to finalize the plans for today’s mission.

  Tubeec surveyed the men, now standing at attention in a straight line dressed in green trousers and long-sleeve green shirts. Ammunition belts crossed their chests. Black scarves hid noses and mouths of the men as they stared into the distance, dark paint smeared under intense eyes.

  After changing into the green shirt and trousers, Tubeec put on the black combat boots that rested against the wall. He reached into his pocket and squinted as he pulled out his black scarf. Tying it around his head, he lifted the fabric over his nose and mouth, then glanced at his watch.

  A surge of energy spiked in the air.

  At his cue, the men sprinted to the back wall, grabbing the M4 Carbine assault rifles.

  Tubeec would remain unarmed.

  He never thought of his own safety.

  Why protect a life that wasn’t worth living?

  They waited for his signal.

  Tubeec’s words were almost a whisper.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter One

  “Is this the part where I’m supposed to carry you across the threshold?” Julian Montgomery asked, gliding the two oversized suitcases down the hallway.

  Mena Nix turned, her eyes wide. She mouthed “no” in his direction then placed the cell phone back to her ear as she headed toward the dark gray steel door at the end of the corridor.

  Julian couldn’t help but smile as he followed Mena toward the condo they’d been sharing for the past six months, a two-bedroom, one and a half bath, property in one of Nairobi’s newest high rise complexes. He would’ve pinched himself if his hands weren’t already full. Readjusting the duffel bag on his left shoulder and the smaller backpack on his right, Julian brought the roller bags to a stop. He leaned against one of the overweight bags, stuffed with Mena’s impulse purchases from their trip to Florida for the holidays.

  His eyes drifted up the length of her body, from the strappy heels tapping on the lacquered, distressed concrete floor to the skin-tight jeans covering her muscular legs as her hips swiveled seductively with each step. The lacy edge of her thong peeking through the opening between her halter top and the band of her jeans teased him, causing his cock to stir. He settled on watching her round, tight ass and wished his hands were gripping that instead of the handles of the two suitcases.

  Mena stopped in front of their door, 12C, and faced him. Rolling her eyes, she whispered, “Do not encourage her.”

  Julian smiled at the crinkled frown forming in between Mena’s eyebrows. The sensual furrow ratcheted her sex appeal toward the top of the charts. Despite what his father believed, Julian had no regrets about leaving behind his life in St. Basil to follow Mena to Kenya for her fellowship at the Tribal Museum.

  Julian barely recognized himself anymore. Long gone was the guilt-ridden man who’d exiled himself for the mistakes of his past, living alone and miserable on a yacht in the marina of one of the most beautiful islands in the world. The life he’d had wasn’t worth much before he’d met Mena. Because of her, he’d been able to move beyond the pain of his past.

  “Yes, Mother. We are at the condo now,” Mena said, her voice echoing in the hallway.

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched her bend over to pick up the newspaper resting against the bottom of the door.

  “The flight was fine. We both slept most of the way,” Mena continued, fumbling through her purse for the key card.

  Would he ever get used to how beautiful she was?

  Her deep brown skin was a hint darker after a few days basking on the beach. Visions of Mena in her string bikini laying on top of him as the ocean waves crashed over them brought a flush of heat to his face. The trip to Miami had been a whim, his feeble attempt to make up for the disappointment of the trip she’d dubbed “Holidays with the Parents.” It had been more like “A Jacked-up Jacksonville Christmas,” but he didn’t want to think about the miserable, failed attempt to introduce Mena to his father. In fact, he’d be perfectly fine if Mena never met the bastard at all.

  He should have talked her out of the plan when she’d first presented it to him, but how could he say no to the woman who owned his heart? He hadn’t wanted to let her down, but a par
t of him knew he was delaying the inevitable. Any Christmas dinner that included Julian and his father in the same room was bound to be a disaster. It was for the best that neither of his parents showed up.

  Despite Julian’s best efforts, he hadn’t been able to salvage the dampened holiday spirit until he suggested spending New Year’s Eve in South Beach.

  “Yes, I know you love Julian,” Mena said, finding the key card and waving it at him with a big smile. “He’s pretty alright with me, too.”

  “Just alright?” Julian asked, grabbing Mena’s hand and pressing his lips against her open palm. The tantalizing scent of sandalwood and orange seduced him, sending a jolt of excitement through his body.

  “More than alright, babe,” Mena whispered. Opening the door with the key card, Mena held wide for Julian to enter. As he pulled the roller bags into the spacious foyer of the condo, Mena slapped him on the butt, giggling as he passed in front of her.

  Twenty-one hours of air travel had both of them horny as rabbits. In a few minutes, he planned to have her naked in his arms.