Inspiration strikes during times of boredom. Needed too a break from my stress so I decided to write a story I would want to see/read as a fan of Kastle.
Lots of story-line and steam. Plz comment & most of all, enjoy.
Stay safe readers!
Song: "Danger" by Jucee Froot from Birds of Prey Soundtrack
Feel free too to imagine Nate as Luke Evans (I did when I wrote him ;)
Chapter 1: Danger
Lights flashed. The smell of sweaty, perfumed bodies lingered in the air around her as she swayed her hips. The music was loud, yet perfect. She wanted this. Somewhere to be anonymous and unseen. Another pretty face in a sea of glitter and beauty. Karen wanted to disappear. Vanish into something other than her work. Or… his face flashed behind her eye lids like a flash of the neon lights above her. She stilled, inhaling softly and releasing it slowly, the pain filtering through her like an old familiar friend.
Frank Castle. I will forget about you tonight. Karen made that promise to herself and intended on keeping it. Yet she also knew perfectly well that the heartache would wake her in the morning once more.
She wanted to forget her pain—her broken and battered heart, at least for the night. It had been nearly six months. Time to move on Karen, she told herself firmly, twirling the icy booze in her glass before taking another sip. Feeling the buzz of the liquor through her veins, she ran her fingers through her thick blond hair and continued to sway on the dance floor, the beat of the music washing over her like a wave.
All she had was this moment. All she wanted was this moment. She wanted nothing and no one… Her heart twisted and her teeth clenched angrily, painfully. That was a lie. She still wanted him. Like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush, she asked desperately if Frank Castle could love again. Could love someone else other than the ghosts of his family? Maybe she was selfish? Maybe it was horrible to ask that of such a broken man. But she couldn't help it. She needed him to know she cared—that he mattered to her more than he realized.
Karen saw his stupid, handsome, bruised face now as he shook his head at her. His dark brown gaze scorching her very skin as he looked through her—saw her. Saw that she wanted him. Saw her heart and soul as she bared it to him. And still, he told her to walk away, not to follow him. Because they both knew that wherever he was going, was no place for her. Or him, she thought sadly and sighed into her glass. Funny how much had changed in her life since the first day she met Frank Castle. And the things that stayed exactly the same too. Like her feelings. That she didn't care he was The Punisher.
She cared deeply for Frank Castle. A murderer, a monster. The Punisher. A whisper of love filtered through her and she repressed it, pushed it down like all her feelings. She wouldn't go there. Wouldn't dare venture into the dark waters that was love for Karen Page. She had put her hopes in too many men and relationships to wish for love.
So much had been left unsaid in that hospital room. Yet he admitted something to her that she needed to hear. That he couldn't step in the light with her. He had to deny the light and warmth that could be them. He wanted to stay in the darkness. Anything outside of it, was too dangerous. A risk that Frank Castle would never make again.
To love and be loved in return. She smiled sadly to herself now, she recognized that quote. Wasn't it a David Bowie song? Or Nat King Cole? Nature boy, she thought of the title, wondering about him. Wondering if he was the lost boy in the song, traveling far and finding his way in the dark for the only thing that mattered in this world. Love.
And it wouldn't be with her, a dark cynical part whispered to her as she pounded down the rest of her drink. He didn't want her and maybe she didn't want to rescue anymore broken men from their sad lives either. Maybe it was time she found someone who could take care of themselves and make room in their life for her now. She wouldn't force herself onto another broken, wounded man. Frank, Matt, the list went on.
After seeing Frank for the last time, Karen did the only thing she knew how to, she flung herself headlong into work. The stinging rejection of the man she cared for lingered like a dagger in the heart. Each day she tried to pull a little out, but it was so god damned painful that she just left it lodged in her chest. The pain was her constant reminder. A reminder that she attached herself to men that were never available. That couldn't ever love her the way she needed and desperately wanted to be loved.
She hadn't come up to breathe for so long. Not since after seeing Frank. Working late hours, drinking a little more, socializing a little less. She recently discovered the thrill of dancing with her after hours cocktail and loosing herself in a crowd. Sometimes she went home with the cute guy from the bar or club, but most nights she went home alone. Crawling into bed, the ache in her chest burning a hole through her very being.
Her eyes traveled across the dance floor and the bodies packed inside tonight. It was only Thursday night. People were cutting loose and forgetting their day at the door. It felt alive and bright. She needed this. To forget her heartache, a moment to forget her pain. She only wished she had the strength to rip this dagger out and the courage to let Frank go for good. And maybe one day I will, she thought. A small dash of hope filling her.
Her eyes trailed over to wraparound club bar that was lit with blue lights and mirrors. She was tempted to get another drink and debated. It was then she saw him.
A new song instantly came on, the woman singing, "Danger, danger…!" with a hard rap beat. Karen felt her pulse skip as she watched the elegantly dressed man smile politely at the bartender, who seemed to instantly swoon. He wore an all navy suit that appeared nearly black in the mood lightening of the club. The silver reflection of his designer watch flashed money signs at her as he slid a folded bill to the bartender that was probably much more than the single glass of liquor was worth. The handsome stranger seemed almost out of place with his polish and, well, money, she thought. Yet he seemed comfortable with the setting, almost like a jungle cat, relaxing on his perch for the evening as he stalked his prey from above.
God he was beautiful, she realized then as he turned his face towards the dancers on the floor. Dark hair sprinkled with grey and light stubble on his cheeks and chin to give him the rougher look despite the polish.
She knew she should probably stop staring but a part of her couldn't help herself. It was nice to appreciate the sensuality and beauty of this man from the autonomy of the crowded dance floor. It why they were all here right? To admire the beautiful. To lust. To flirt. To fuck. Maybe that was why she was here. She momentarily saw a flash of Frank's face and hesitated, looking away, taking a deep breath. Frank was handsome in that very rough, man's-man kind of way. He wasn't handsome like the man at the bar she supposed. Though, she never saw him dressed up. Mostly just covered in blood, bruises, and in black. She snorted briefly at the memory of his ridiculous season of beard and shaggy hair, in which he commented on sporting a man-bun.
She took another deep sigh and returned her gaze to the beautiful panther at the bar, forcing herself to forget Frank. Frank Castle was in the past. Gone. He didn't want you Karen, she told herself firmly.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the man at the bar now. Staring straight at her. A blush stained her cheeks instantly. The quickening pace of her pulse made her chew nervously at her bottom lip. His eyes, like a true hunter, never left hers. He slid lazily off the bar, leaving his drink and straightening his suit.
The song finished with the rapper yelling, "Danger, danger…!". Karen barely heard it as he approached. He slipped easily through the crowd and the closer he got, the more she realized how tall and lean he was. Probably all muscle underneath the expensively tailored suit.
She hummed in the back of his throat at the thought of seeing him out of that suit.
He stood before her now, his dark eyes were a deep blue. He said nothing at first, merely gazed admirably at her. She too took her fill, no longer caring about the bright blush on her cheeks.
He smirked coolly, "You are intoxicating."
Karen laughed, "I think the word you mean is, intoxicated."
His smirk became a deep smile, "No, I meant what I said."
She heard the accent in his tone then British. She shivered even more and bit her lower lip once more in nervous excitement.
His intense gaze traveled to her lips. "Careful, darling. I usually like to take the first bite."
The game of flirt was afoot. Karen released her lip and licked it. His gaze danced now with a fire as he stepped closer. "May I so have the honor of buying you a drink?"
Karen shook her head, knowing what she wanted the second she saw him at the bar. And it wasn't another drink.
"A dance then?" He asked politely.
She shook her head again.
His polite features shifted as he glanced around her, as though searching for someone. "You are here with someone, aren't you? Of course, you are. A beautiful woman like you, a fool would I be to snatch you up for myself."
Karen smiled at this and shook her head. "I'm alone."
His expression seemed surprised and then he titled his head in acknowledgment. "Fortune in my favor then." He leaned forward, pressing his lips near her ear. "If you don't want to dance with me, or drink with me—what would you like to do with me?"
A hot shiver raced up her spine. Heat flooding her body as Karen turned her head ever slightly over her shoulder and inches from his lips. Their eyes collided and the unspoken attraction sizzled between them. She felt a slight pull of the dagger in her heart. Maybe this was what she needed—to be reminded of her desire and that she could find love again. It may not be with this gorgeous stranger, but she could start again. Try again.
"What's your name, beautiful?" He asked huskily.
"Karen."
His hand slipped over her waist, "My name is Nathaniel. Call me Nate."
"Hello Nate."
"Hello Karen," he nodded towards the exit of the club. "Shall we?"
She nodded and left the club with Nate.
Frank sighed once more and rubbed a frustrated hand over his face. He couldn't reason or talk her down anymore. He would have to wait for her hysterical crying to stop before he could continue the questioning. He sat back in his chair, slipped the gun into his holster and took a deep, patient breath. He could wait. All night if he had to. He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall behind her in the posh cubicle office. The building had been a nice one, all windows and doors—which made it a little too easy to see the targets. Still, nice.
He noticed the blood splatter on his knuckle and saw the tissue box on the desk in front of him. He grabbed it and handed it to the crying woman. She accepted it with a trembling hand.
After a few minutes of nose blowing and eye wiping, the woman finally said, "I… I don't know anything… I swear."
He had heard this plea countless times. He leaned forward in the chair on to his knees, leveling an intense and impatient glare at her. "Look, I'm not here for bullshit. You launder their dirty money. It says so right here." He grabbed the gold name plate sitting on her desk. It read 'financial advisor'. "You have two options, lie to me and end up like the rest of your coworkers, or tell me what I need to know."
She visibly trembled, nearly stuffing the tissue in her mouth to keep from crying more. "I… I didn't know that they did this…"
Irritable now, Frank unholstered his gun and cocked it.
She squeaked, "Okay, okay…". The young woman took a couple deep breaths, coolly wiped the tears from her face, pulling off her glasses, tossing them indifferently on the desk. Her entire demeanor changed in a second. Gone was the timid, scared woman with chubby cheeks and plain boring brown hair. Her disguise was to look invisible and unassuming; he realized this the moment she spoke again, "Those fucking idiots."
Her eyes moving past him to the blood-spattered offices of her dead colleagues. "I told them that laundering for the Cartel would get them killed."
Frank sat back, feeling oddly impressed. She almost had him going with the whole damsel in distress act.
"And you don't?" He asked curiously.
She scoffed, acting insulted. "Please. I like my life. I move money for reputable people. The ones who don't murder your whole family if you fuck up once."
He pondered this and titled his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "You don't seem like the type who makes many mistakes."
She grimaced, "You say that, yet I housed in the same office with those dead low lives." She shook her head, her pinched lips making her appear more severe.
"If you don't work for the Cartel, who do you work for?" Frank had been hunting Cartel and their cronies across the country for—he counted the months since he was last in Hell's Kitchen, six months. Damn, he thought suddenly, time flies when a man gets busy.
Frank declared war on the Cartel in New York, wanting their drugs and guns out of his city. He had nearly pushed out the last remaining of the Cartel just yesterday, now the last bit of their hired goons were left, such as their launders. People who cleaned and washed the blood off the bills, wiping them off with dirty hands. He didn't know who was worse, the people who killed for the money, or the people who covered it up.
"Please," she shot back, "I know who you are. I just saw what you did. I tell you—you kill me and then them. I don't think so."
He glanced down at his white skull spray painted on his bullet proof vest. He tisked in mock disappointment, glancing at her desk name plate again and said, "I'm sorry to hear that Ruth. Sorry that you don't seem to realize how little of a choice you have here."
She stilled, her face paling. "They will come after me if I say anything."
"You die now, or later. It's still a choice. Not much of one. But it's better than Ted and Fred back there."
Ruth, the financial advisor, crumpled her face into her hands and sighed. "Jesus fuck…"
Frank waited patiently, knowing she was gathering the courage to tell him what he needed to know. And once she did, she would go into hiding, take whatever money she could scrape off the top, if she hadn't been already and run off to the Bahamas for all he fucking cared. She was trash. The garbage that always got caught in the end, despite how much they convinced themselves of their invincibility.
She inhaled sharply and shook her head, as though coming to terms with her death warrant. "The people I work for, make the Cartel's money look like pocket change."
This caught Frank's attention.
"Have you ever heard of the name Kyross."
He shook his head.
"Most don't. Only the elite have access to it. It's the most expensive, isolated restorative retreat in the world, located deep in the mountains, surrounded by redwoods and only miles away from coastline."
"Sounds too rich for my blood."
She smiled drily. "It's designed that way. Only the special are allowed in. The 1% of the criminal world. You get into Kyross only one way—an invitation. There is no address, no website. In the invitation you are exclusively given access to the promise of rejuvenation, spiritual awakening, and guaranteed emotional breakthroughs that will change your life."
Frank frowned, "Get to the point. How does this make more money than guns and drugs?"
She let out the breath that she had been holding, "Let's just say it has a very special niche market and the cliental pay an incredible amount to participate."
"Participate?"
She swallowed, the bags on her eyes turning a darker shade and her face seeming to age. "I… god, they are going to kill me…" She shook herself out of her wave of pity and leaned forward on her elbows, face in her palms. "They bid on… people…"
Frank saw the real fear in her now. She seemed more scared of this Kyross than the Punisher in the room with a loaded gun.
"They bid on people. The hidden 1% of the criminal world that has more money that God, come from around the world to Kyross to experience the retreat, with the promise of collecting their prize at the end after the bidding war. These people were seduced and tricked into going to Kyross, thinking it's just a retreat. The poor fucks even socialize amongst their bidders and killers, totally unaware that they are being secretly surveyed like fucking cattle before the auction. Once the bid is over, the winners…" She hesitated again and swallowed. "The winners do what they will with this person with the security and privacy that Kyross provides. Kyross also deals with the mess at additional cost. If the winners don't kill their property, Kyross sells them again, usually internationally to other elite parties—in which they are handed off from person to person, literally disappearing forever."
"If these people are criminals—why not just take this person out themselves? Why bother with all this?"
She swallowed again, her throat seeming to bunch up on her. "These criminals are hidden, usually in powerful positions, such as CEOS, politicians, world leaders. They can't just snap their fingers without implications. Besides, some of them want to personally do it and like to show off their power. Kyross gives them the opportunity to flash their power to the competition. Imagine the Monaco Grand Prix with criminal bosses, but instead of racing each other, they are bidding for the best car on the track."
"So this Kyross place is an organization that kidnaps people under the disguise of a vacation, sells them, kills them or sells them again?"
She nodded. "These are special people they are bidding for often have multiple criminal organizations after them. Hence the auction."
"Jesus." He muttered.
"Power wants power. If I learned anything by working with them—they play by their own rules. It only happens once a year, bringing in more money than the Titanic could move. With the guarantee of getting what they want."
"Someone has to have noticed somethings going on."
"Kyross's secretive nature and money buy off politicians and judges to look the other way. They thrive in our broken system." She shook her head in disgust. "A list of the special cattle that they want met before they accept the invitation. So Kyross makes up the perfect list. The incorruptible police and politicians, lawyers, doctors, tech, Wall street runners, reporters, vigilantes…"
Frank stilled. He instantly saw a flash of a face that had been ingrained in him since day one. Karen. His spark of light in a dark and dying place. He wouldn't allow himself to think of her now. He couldn't feel her—couldn't imagine her—and wouldn't let her in.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you were on the list." Ruth commented. "You've killed so many of them, they probably want your head on a stick for display somewhere in their art galleries."
He gritted his teeth and growled. "When's the next retreat?"
"This weekend."
It was Thursday night, it would be a tight squeeze but he may be able to get in. "How do I get an invitation?"
She snorted, "You can't. It's impossible."
"Who's your contact?"
"Luke Boyd. He's one of the co-founders of Kyross. The real leader is Michael Colt."
Frank pondered that name. She nodded, "Sounds familiar? Yeah, he was in the music industry for a decade, making and producing some of our generations top artists. Then he dropped off the map for a while, only to reemerge as a spiritual guru that does yoga in the fucking woods. People ate that shit up and loved him for it. Him and Boyd created Kyross after that. Maybe one too many drug trips in the desert that stirred up this idea."
"Bored, rich men that have too much power and wanted more. Nothin' new with that story."
"Exactly." She sighed, "That's all I know. That was part of my terms in working for them, knowing as little detail as possible about the organization. But after five years, seeing the names on the lists of attendees and the names that come out later in the news, either as missing or dead- yeah, I made the connection."
"And you still work for them?"
"I have no excuse." She glanced once more at the death skull on his chest. "I did it for the money. And then eventually realized I was doing it to keep myself alive. If I ever left, they would kill me. Now they definitely will when the fucking Punisher shows up."
"You have to know where Kyross is?" He asked suspiciously, "You manage their money."
She nodded, "California. Maybe somewhere in Humboldt or maybe LA county. But I couldn't give you an exact location."
"If I can't get an invitation- there has to be another way in. You mentioned security."
She held out a finger, seeming to follow his line of thinking. She pulled open a drawer, with a red file. "Boyd oversees tasking security. Obviously, they don't want guest running away, or anyone coming in that's not allowed. Security is heavy but Boyd hires new crew members every season. Probably because the party keeps getting bigger. More bodies, more money." She handed him the file.
He glanced through it and saw the inventory of military records and mercenaries. He had an idea. "Call him. Make me your recommendation."
Her eyes widened. "Are you kidding? They will definitely know I was the one that sent you."
"Who gives a shit if they're all dead. Make the call." This place would be perfect for the Punisher. Take down the most secretive names in the criminal world.
"What do I say?" Ruth asked.
"Tell'em you have a tough guy formerly from the Cartel's looking for a new crew. That sounds legit to me, seeing as you share an office building with them."
Shaking, breathing heavily, she dialed Boyd on her desk phone but didn't hit call yet. "Who should I say you are?"
"John Smith." He grabbed one of her pens and wrote on a piece of paper his number. "Tell him to call me on this number." He stood, "You mentioned there is a list. Do you have it?"
Ruth grabbed an envelope off her desk. "Colt ask me to run the numbers on them- see how to…" She cleared her throat, "Price them."
He shook his head in disgust and snatched the envelope from her.
"The list isn't always accurate the day of when guests arrive. We make room for the white whales."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "The ones that have been on the list for a long time, but never caught them before."
He shook his head in utter contempt. He felt dirty just holding the list. Frank had heard of sex trafficking, parties with rich assholes abusing women and men for their sick delights. But this. This was another level of twisted.
"Make the call. Be convincing." Frank stood and walked to the entrance of her office, rage ripping at his insides like barbwire. He wanted to get his hands on these sick, demented people and burn Kyross to the ground. Who knows how many people have died, been hurt, sold off unknowingly to these fucking bastards. He held his gun by his side and tapped it against his leg at Ruth. She knew what was on the line if he didn't get in.
Ruth understood instantly and with another shift, Boyd answered, and she turned on the charm.
Karen stood at the hotel suite window, gazing over the city. Buildings stretched out before her under the morning sunlight, sparkling and shining. She exhaled, holding her cup of coffee between her hands and smiling into the mug. An unexpected emotion filled her then, happiness. She hadn't felt relaxed and this happy in so long. She deserved this she thought, she deserved an amazing view, good coffee, great sex and happiness.
"I could get used to this…"
Karen heard Nate's husky accented tone from behind her. She gazed over at him. He was still gloriously naked in the posh king bed of his suite. His hair sex tousled, face scruffy now for not shaving. She smiled softly. They had been locked away in heaven since meeting at the club. Luckily she hadn't had any deadlines to worry about with the paper and sent off a few emails earlier while Nate slept. Now it was Friday afternoon and she didn't have to think about work.
Nate doted on her, made love to her like a goddess and gave her everything she wanted, including Chinese food and wine for a meal late last night. He was smart, articulate and they didn't talk about work. They talked nonsense or didn't talk at all. Which suited her just fine. She wasn't really looking for a relationship. All she wanted was a night to forget.
"Me too," she said.
He nodded slowly, watching her lazily from his position on the bed.
She glanced back out the window and sipped her coffee. She wasn't sad about leaving him, maybe sad about her bubble bursting once she left this suite. Reality would come knocking and her real life awaited.
"Do you have any plans this weekend, darling?" He asked, grabbing a pair of smart black framed glasses from the bedside and his tablet.
She eyed him curiously, "Maybe. Why do you ask?"
"Well, seeing as how we just met and I don't intend on letting you go anytime soon. I think you need to come with me to my gig this weekend."
"Gig? You're working this weekend?"
He nodded with a small shrug of indifference. "The kind of gig that overpays for underworking. It's some retreat out in California. I've been hired to provide security for them. Team leader in fact."
Karen felt momentarily shocked by the new fact. She hadn't given Nate as a person much thought in the past 24 hours, which now that she thought about, looked bad on the part of an investigative journalist.
"What do you do for a living?" She asked curiously.
He snapped his fingers on the keys, glanced up to her. "I was British Special Forces for a long time—retired last year. Wanted something more of my choosing. I'm a private contractor now. I do security details for politicians, musicians, and now- retreats apparently."
What was with her on choosing military guys, she wondered. At least this one seemed to want her around for a little while longer, she thought. God, she sounded so pathetic especially to herself. She ran a hand through her hair, "California is a little far…"
He chuckled, "I'm emailing my boss right now, see if he'll allow me a guest."
"Nate, wait. This is your job. I don't want to interfere."
"You're not, you're being invited. Besides, I'll be working most of it. But you get the opportunity of a lifetime. I hear this retreat is quite something. Spiritual awakenings, spas, hot springs, meditations. I even hear that emotional breakthroughs are pretty much guaranteed to all who attend."
"It sounds like Disneyland for adults." It felt so weird she had never heard of anything like this. Sure, it was out in California but still, she worked in the news. People would talk about a place like this. "It also sounds too good to be true."
Nate finished the email, tossing his laptop onto the messy bedding and slipped his glasses off. "I couldn't agree with you more. That's why I want you with me. Our spiritual awakenings could be more…" He stood, the sheets falling away from his incredibly toned, muscled body. Not a scar or imperfection on him. She wasn't sure she liked that. Karen had always been attracted to imperfections, seeing the life of people written on their bodies. It made her feel human. Nate seemed superhuman now. Impossibly perfect. She wanted to be suspicious yet—also didn't want to care that much anymore. She wanted freedom. Freedom from worries, people, life. She wanted freedom from her heartache. Maybe she could find it at this place. Maybe what she needed was an awakening.
She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her parted lips.
"Intimate." Nate purred deliciously at her, "Our emotional breakthroughs could be in a bedroom." He grabbed the coffee from her hand and took a sip, his deep blue eyes never leaving hers. Her pulse beginning to quicken, unsure if it was the idea of escaping into a retreat for the weekend or doing it with him. "And while I'm at work, you can get a massage, sit in the salt lounge, drink cleansing tea and eat rabbit food. Then when I come back, I'll bring the chocolate and wine."
"You're making this really hard to say no to." She wanted to say yes, do something spontaneous and she'd never been to a retreat like thi. Besides that, Karen had never been on a real vacation before and why couldn't she spend a few days pampering herself and with a man who was willing to assist in the pampering.
"Then don't say no, Karen. Say yes and I'll get your plane ticket. All you have to do is go home, back a bag and we leave tonight."
"This is too much," she said, her doubts suddenly flooding her. "Your boss hasn't gotten back to you yet—I don't want you to put yourself out for me. We just met…"
He nodded in understanding and walked back to the bed, stark naked, grabbed his phone off the bedside table, clicked it on and checked his email. "Wha-la." He said with a sudden grin. "I knew he'd say yes."
He showed Karen the email and the confirmation from someone named Luke Boyd, co-founder and assistant director to Kyross. A flutter of excitement filled her.
Unable to contain the excitement, she chewed on her lower lip, beaming from head to toe. She never did anything like this, yet it was thrilling. It was a risk. "Aren't you a little worried I might be crazy or too much for you to spend an entire weekend with? I am in very definition a complete stranger to you."
He chuckled, tossed the phone on the bed and kissed her. It was passionate and soft, teasingly sending the thrills upwards to her chest.
"I like to think myself as a good judge of character. Now, would you want me to go with you to get your bag?" He asked against her lips.
She shook her head, "No. It's okay."
He touched the bottom of her lip, "Perfect. I'll order you ticket. The plane leaves tonight. Better hurry, I may want you one more time before we leave. And then after that, I have a whole plane ride to get to know Karen Page."
TBC