The hot water soothed his aching muscles. The water was a strange mix of red and brown. A mixture of blood and mud. He wasn't sure how he had become covered in mud. Then again he didn't remember much from those two days.
It hadn't taken long to find the first guy. He had gone to all his usual haunts. Bars, strip joints, fast food restaurants. It had finally paid off after six hours. Then it was all about finding a secluded place to finish the job.
He had let the scum hit him. He had wanted to fuel the rage even more. To the point where the rage not only consumed him but was his life force. Using the rage he became nothing more than a blur. Kicking, punching, then finally he heard the snap signaling the neck he had twisted was broken.
He had decided to dispose of the bodies once he had finished with them. So he took the crumpled, lifeless body and stuffed it into his trunk.
The second one had been even easier to find. A junkie who was sleeping off his latest score. He had gone in and simply slit his throat. Not even worth attempting to fight the garbage. Dragging him around back, he stuffed him into the trunk with his friend.
The third had given him a little trouble. He smiled over that. Sure his ribs were going to be sore and the bruises would be ugly but he was used to it. It was almost a badge of valor. He had got the bruise while he was settling a score.
The fourth had been difficult. He had as much martial arts training as he did. He could credit the man for his broken fingers and the gapping gash on his back from the knife the man had hidden in his boot.
The stance he had assumed was ex-marine. Fighting technique was covert ops. A man whose only purpose in life was to inflict punishment and death. Now he was lying on the bottom of the Boston Harbor.
He knew he had to get out of town. Granted there was very little chance the deaths could be traced back to him, but he had given Nate, Sophie, Hardison, and especially Parker his word that he would lay low until they thought it was safe to go back.
So he would go to one of his safe houses. Possibly the one he had in Louisiana. Out on the bayou, where the only living things he would see would be the crocodiles, gators, and other sea life living in the swamp.
He would keep in minimal contact with the team via pre-paid cell phones that Hardison had provided him with. Their numbers already programmed into them.
Letting the hot water pound against his muscles, he planned his route. No planes, no credit cards, he would use one of his aliases' cars and identity. Until he came back, he would be known as Christian Kane. His first alias and the one who surprisingly had no bounty on his head.
He would leave an hour before dawn broke.
Grabbing his cell phone, he called Sophie. He wanted to get an update on Parker's status. Had she started speaking yet? Was she responding to anything?
He was pretty good at hiding his emotions but seeing Parker broken and defeated had stirred all his feelings for the petite blonde. He knew when he got back and she started healing he would have to address his feelings for her. But for now, he would survive on his random calls.