Anti-Hero (Wild Heart Ranch Book 4)
Anti-Hero: Chapter 18

“We’re coming up on Little Crescent,” I announce, eyeballing the tiny island below us.

From the air, it looks like a tropical crescent moon. Colorful private villas dot the curve of the small, picturesque bay, and from up here, it all looks so beautiful.

The reality is much, much uglier.

“You ready?” I toss over my shoulder as I come around for the approach.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ant walks up from the back and clumsily climbs into the copilot’s chair, dropping a Barbie backpack behind my seat.

“Good. Wimberley has the island’s cameras, so we should be able to pretty much just walk—” I stop as he buckles up, setting my jaw so tight I can practically hear the tendons creaking.

“Fucking hell,” I curse, my knuckles going white as I squeeze the yoke.

He warned me he was going to go even girlier and younger-looking than he did with Park Avenue because it’ll allow him to blend in on the island. I said it’d be fine, but now I see why feminization play of any kind is a no-go for him.

The short pigtails, smooth legs, zero facial hair, full face of makeup, twirly thigh-caressing pink gingham dress, white frilly socks, and black patent Mary Janes are making my blood pressure skyrocket.

“Look, I know you’re twenty-one,” I say, gritting my teeth, “but you legitimately look like a thirteen-year-old cosplaying as Lolita.”

“Still got it,” he teases, pulling on a short pigtail.

Hm. He’s putting on a nice show, but he still can’t quite hide how stressed and freaked out he is. He was mumbling in his dreams last night, and once again, my concerns about returning to the place that ripped his innocence from him sits heavy, like a ball of lead in my guts.

“Don’t fucking do that,” I order, pausing to radio the guy waiting on the ground before glancing at him again. “Don’t act like this is some fun, easy op for you. No faking it, remember? At least not in front of me.”

His face falls, and he swallows thickly. “Sorry.”

I shake my head. “No apologies. Just…when it’s the two of us, let’s not pretend this will be easy.”

He looks down, playing with the lace hem of his skirt as he exhales a shaky breath.

“I was so happy to take these motherfuckers off the map that I never paused to imagine how coming here would feel.”

“Hey.” I reach across the console to rub his back. “You don’t have to do this. Look over there—Tolly’s docking right now. You can change now and just go straight to the boat and wait for the kids. I’ll take care of the rest. Or if you think talking with the kids will be too hard, stay on the plane.”

Another glance at his outfit fucks with my chill all over again. He looks like jailbait while I get to wear some high-end resort-wear brand. I’m wearing linen shorts and boat shoes, for God’s sake, and my shirt, a loose navy cotton, costs more than a family’s average monthly salary.

Hell, I’m even wearing my hair down for that billionaire-about-town look, and the only positive is how much Ant likes it. If it weren’t for the kids we’re saving and the explosives we’ll be planting, I’d turn this plane around right the fuck now.

His eyes track the sleek yacht as it approaches the private dock. Tolly is an old friend and a key component of today’s mission, and he would absolutely jump in if Ant wanted to sit this one out.

Ant lets out a long breath and pats his chest. “No, I need to do this. To know we’re giving these kids a way off this hellhole.”

I kiss his hand. “Seriously, baby. You don’t need to be on the pointy end with this mission. Nobody would blame you.”

He sends me a weak smile, then takes a fortifying breath. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m super awesome right now, but two things are getting me through this: you and the thought of blood dripping from my blade.”

“Wow,” I joke as I gently lower our altitude. “Top billing over murder. I’m so honored.”

He pushes my shoulder, and my belly tightens at the contact.

“Shut up,” he says through a hard-fought grin.

I reach over and pull on a pigtail, and he shifts uncomfortably. I’m immediately flooded with guilt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You know I’m not trying to—”

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my arm. “You know how I know you’re a good guy?”

I shake my head as I look out the window, lining up to the small runway.

“This disturbs you. As will my voice, as will the fact that I’m about to walk two feet behind you. What this island has to offer isn’t in the same universe as kink or drag or anything fun. Those guys don’t want to know I’m of age and consenting. They’d much prefer underage and against my will. The cruelty is the point.”

“God, I just want to take this place down to the sand.”

“Oh, we will. But rescue before mass destruction.”

“A good rule of thumb,” I respond with a resigned half-smile.

After a smooth landing, Ant points out the deceptively beautiful residential building where he was kept during his time here. Red-hot rage builds in my belly.

“Seriously,” I repeat as I slip the earbud into my ear. “You don’t have to do any of this.”

He shakes his head and takes his earbud out of my front pocket. “No. I need to do this. I just…from this angle, I finally get why they put that building where they did.”

I lift my chin. “Why?”

“It’s between the dock and the runway so the rich assholes could arrive by boat or plane and immediately select the kid they wanted before they even made it to their private villa.”

More rage-filled embers fill my guts.

“It all looks so festive,” I bite out as a member of the island’s security force approaches us.

“Pretty colors to soothe any errant sense of right or wrong,” he says softly.

I let out another disgruntled sound, and a relieved smile crosses his lips. Like maybe knowing how much I want to tear this place apart soothes something in his soul.

“Can I assume the security force here is complicit in what’s going on?” I ask, testing our comms.

He looks out the window and wrinkles his nose. “Yep. And I can hear you loud and clear.”

“Any reason I need to be nice to him?”

“Nope.”

After coming to a stop, Ant and I climb out and he slips on the backpack and hands me my overnight bag, both of which are filled with weapons and explosives. I unlock the door and push down the steps, then bound down them like I’m the perfect, carefree billionaire.

“Mr. Chauncy! Welc—”

Before the greeting can leave the man’s lips, I pull my silenced gun and shoot him. Ant’s jaw drops as half of the guy’s head flies off.

“Shit. Are those the new bullets Anders and Omar found on that one job?” he asks, fascinated by the brains spilling out onto the hot asphalt.

“Yep,” I answer, tucking the gun away.

“God, it’s fun killing bad guys.”

“You know what? It kinda is.” We grab the dead guy and slide him under the plane’s shadow. Pulling out a package of wet wipes, I verify, “Are there any adults I need to avoid killing?”

Taking a wipe for himself, he nods. “Anyone in a housekeeping outfit was brought here against their will.” He checks the time on his phone and verifies our previous conversation. “This time of day, everyone will be at the pool by the main villa. There might be some kids at the pool with them, but most will be napping to get ready for the evening.”

“You still good to get the kids out of the residential building while I take out communication?” I ask one more time.

“Yes, one hundred percent,” he says confidently, holding up his fist.

I bump it, then we take off for the office inside the residential building.

“Brought your own toy, I see,” teases the island manager. I take a deep breath, physically stopping myself from wrenching his head a hundred and eighty degrees in the wrong direction.

“I wanted to see if I might be able to do a swap,” I say, somehow making my voice lighter and more carefree than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

“This one’s a little old for us, sir, but you are welcome to trade with any of the guests.” The manager taps his chin. “Little one, have we met before?”

“I sorry. I no understand,” Ant says, letting his voice float to the upper end of his register, the sound like sandpaper on my brain.

He sticks his hands in his gingham pockets, swaying the skirt side to side. The man sends him a look Ant is all too familiar with. According to his intel report, this manager was one of the ones who would sneak into the kids’ building after dark.

As much as I’d like to be the one to end this man’s life, Ant’s hands are in his pockets because that’s where he put the throwing knives Javier gave him on his birthday.

I’ve participated in a few of Javier’s knife lessons, and one of the first things he taught us was that a good throw has a particular kind of whoosh to it.

My job is to keep this asshole occupied by asking him questions. I’m not just stalling—we need information to know where we’re going. When I get what I need, I send Ant a discreet nod.

Woosh.

Ant is brutally efficient, and it only takes one knife through the eye to get the job done. The manager is dead before he hits the ground.

I make my way behind the counter and pull Ant’s knife from the man’s eye socket, wiping it on the man’s jacket before handing it back to Ant.

“You still okay?” I ask, cupping his jaw.

“Better now,” he says, leaning into my touch.

Even—or maybe especially—with the dead man at our feet, his affection means so much.

“Okay, good.” I tap my comms and give the signal. “I love iced tea.”

A posh British voice crackles over the line. “Iced tea, you say? An abomination. It was better when you lot chucked it straight into the harbor.”

Ant’s smile, despite everything, calms my nerves. “Where are you, old chap?” I ask as I kiss his forehead.

The line on Tolly’s end clears. “We just finished docking. Are we still good with the plan?”

“So far, so good. Looks like most of what I need to take out is in the main building. I’ll set up the explosives in the main areas while your men get into place, then we’ll take out the trash.”

Ex. Plo. Sives. Ant mouths as he shimmies his shoulders, his eyes widening in excitement. I send him a wink, and he discreetly palms himself. Crouching down, he unhooks the keychain from the dead guy’s waist.

“Oh, how thoughtful,” he crows as I shove the body under the desk. “The keys are color-coded.”

With a quick kiss, I send Ant and his color-coded keys through the door that once housed all his nightmares, and I make my way to the main building.

Time to blow this place sky-high.