Complicate (Deliver 9)

The panorama captured the essence of a laid-back paradise along with the elegance of a luxury resort. But he wasn’t here to work on his tan.

The warm midday sunshine injected frissons of energy beneath his skin. He was here to keep his eyes open and senses honed, for today, he would see a year-long dream finally come to fruition.

The blue skies were clear as far as he could see. Even the weather smiled on his plans.

Up ahead, a good-looking guy ran down the beach and leaped in a burst of strength, catching a football midair. His cheerleaders jumped from their loungers and clapped their hands, whistling.

As he turned to launch the ball back to the group, he met Cole’s eyes.

Joshua.

He hadn’t always been a gun-toting vigilante. Before Liv, he had a promising future as a professional football player.

His green eyes glinted with his smile. There was no resentment there. No misgivings.

With a nod to Cole, he sent a message.

Nothing was amiss. Everything and everyone was in place.

Cole continued on, strolling toward the group. Liv, Amber, and Van watched as Livana raced toward the spiraling football that Joshua passed back. She missed the catch, laughing at her fumble while her gaze made a furtive sweep of the perimeter.

As the only child of Van and Liv, she had big shoes to fill. But Cole had spent a lot of time training her over the years. She was sharp, fearless, and deadly with a gun.

He ambled past the group, smiling a friendly greeting.

Van sat beside Amber on the lounger, leaning in to tease the string on her bikini top. But like his daughter, his eyes were razor-sharp, probing the surroundings until they landed on Cole.

A toothpick rolled at the corner of Van’s smirk, cocky and chilling.

Scary as fuck.

But Cole trusted him with his life. He trusted all of them.

While Joshua entertained them with his athletic dexterity, they played their parts as clueless vacationers, lounging and soaking up the sun.

No one knew they were killers. Every single one of them. They were a highly-trained, fiercely passionate team of vigilantes, and they were here to take down a multi-national criminal enterprise that catered to pedophiles.

There were one-hundred-and-twenty child predators mingling at the resort, all gathered for an annual convention. On the surface, it was a fun-in-the-sun holiday for business. But what happened after dark behind locked doors was so sick, sadistic, and inhumane that it called for justice without lawyers and trials.

It called for the Freedom Fighters.

When the team received the signal, they would dig their firearms out of the sand and take justice into their own hands.

Cole veered off the beach and headed into the resort, swapping warm oceanic air for air-conditioned breezeways.

He passed through one of the many indoor bars and spotted Luke, Tomas, and Vera at one of the card tables, playing poker with their targets. Handbags sat at their feet, concealing their weapons.

A hand brushed his arm, and he turned his neck, coming face to face with Rylee’s huge silver eyes.

“Hey, handsome.” Her cheeks rose with a smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

“Tremendously. You?”

“Everything’s perfect.” She winked and sauntered off to rejoin the group at the card table.

He crossed through the spa next. Tula, Martin, and Ricky sat in massage chairs, receiving pedicures. Evidently, men did this sort of thing, if he could call their targets men.

Old, fat fucks lounged in the other chairs, talking among themselves as women scrubbed and rubbed their feet. They had no idea they were about to die in those seats after spending their final moments on earth getting their toenails clipped.

Fuck them.

They would never touch another child again.

Ricky looked up, grabbing his gaze and giving him a chin lift. All clear.

Cole continued his perimeter sweep through the halls, his attention flicking to the shadows, to the opened and locked doors, and other possible escape routes. He and the team had scoured the property from end to end and every dark corner in between. This operation was a year in the making, and he didn’t want any surprises.

There were three pool areas with vast spaces for their targets to congregate. He found Matias and Camila sitting at the edge of the first pool.

Camila looked stunning in her red bikini. Her husband, on the other hand, stood out like a douchebag with his floppy sunhat and white sunscreen slathered on his nose.

Fucking ridiculous. But necessary. As the capo of the Restrepo Cartel, he couldn’t risk being recognized.

“Nice hat,” Cole said in passing, biting down on his smile. “Can I ask where you got it?”

“Yeah, you can pick one up for yourself at…” Matias gave him the finger. “Fuck off.”

“Behave.” Camila elbowed her husband and glanced at Cole, whispering under her breath, “We’re ready.”

She rested a hand on the bag beside her, her eye glimmering with excitement.

With a nod, he followed the paved pathway to the next pool. Tate and Lucia stood at a high-top table, drinking colorful cocktails while surveying the area.