by Sweet, Izzy
Spinning toward Dickers, Trent says, “Shut your fucking mouth! She’s not compromised, she’s just confused and in shock.” Turning back to me, Trent slowly walks forward again, as if he’s afraid of startling me.
“Sophia,” he says calmly. “Everything’s going to be okay. I know you’re confused, but you need to come with me.”
I take another step back, straight into the coffee table, and almost fall on my butt. “No. I’m not going with you, Trent. You need to leave. Get out of my house!”
Sighing, Trent continues to close the distance between us. “I’m not leaving without you, Sophia.”
Not able to go backward, I glance around Trent, trying to figure out the best way to escape.
I can’t go out the front or back to the basement. But I’ll have to dodge around Trent to get to the stairs that lead upstairs.
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, Trent suddenly lunges forward, reaching for me with his free arm.
Shrieking, I manage to slip past the arm, but I can’t escape the weight of his body as it crashes into me, taking me down to the floor.
Trent falls on top of me, but with only one arm, he can’t hold me down. I manage to shove him off me and roll to the side.
Scrambling to my feet, I hear Trent shout. “Don’t fucking shoot her!”
With him no longer in my way, I have a clear path to the stairs.
Stumbling forward, I start to run when Trent orders, “Tase her!”
I’m in motion.
Then suddenly I’m not.
All the muscles in my body seize up in one great big cramp that steals all the air from my lungs, and I drop to the floor.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t fucking think past the pain.
I’m helpless, my face against the floor, my body twitching and spasming, as a commotion breaks out somewhere.
“Sweep the house!” someone shouts. “He’s gotta be around here somewhere!”
A knee is shoved into my spine and then my hands are yanked behind my back.
By the time I can fill my lungs again with air to scream, my hands are zip-tied behind me and I’m thrown over a shoulder.
“Get her in the fucking SUV,” Trent says from somewhere beside me. “The others can deal with him.”
18
James
My balls hurt so fucking bad, I’m surprised Sophia didn’t literally break them. One would think with all the shit I’ve been through in my life, I would get used to being hit in the balls…
But no.
Sophia’s knee hit me so hard it knocked my ass down a whole fucking peg in my life.
“Fluffers! Please come out, please!” I hear her pleading with her damn cat as I near the top steps of the basement.
Then there’s a loud rumbling. I have no fucking clue what is causing it, but the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as the entire house begins to shake.
One second I’m on my feet, the next I’m flying off them.
I slam first into the stairwell wall then tumble ass over head to land right where I fell when Sophia kneed me in the nuts.
The void threatens to swallow me and succeeds for a moment.
Everything becomes fuzzy and I feel myself shaking my head without even realizing I’m doing it.
Blinking my eyes, I force myself to focus and stay conscious. Shaking off the last of the void, I look up and see two little worried eyes staring down at me.
Mitzy stands over me, trying to check on me, but I have to push her away.
I need to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Turning my attention to the top of the basement stairs, I try to make sense of what I see. The basement door and the walls at the top of the stairs look like they’ve partially collapsed.
What the ever-living fuck?
Standing up as quick as my wobbly brain will allow, I know I need to get up the stairs, but whatever the fuck the SWAT just did to my house must have been massive. I won’t be any good to Sophia without a weapon.
Running to the safe room, I swear I’ll own a one-bedroom cottage after this shit. It takes entirely too much time to get across the basement to the bookcase.
And time is something I can’t afford to spare right now.
Yanking on the Tom Sawyer book and pulling the case out, I dash into the safe room and head straight for a security monitor.
“Fuck!” I scream as I watch Sophia being lifted up and thrown over the shoulder of some fucking SWAT asshole.
On the monitor, I see at least ten men, all dressed head to toe in black tactical armor. I can’t recognize anyone specifically except for maybe Trent. I figure he’s the dickstick that’s not carrying a weapon. His broken elbow is in a cast and he’s got a fucking black sling.
Flicking on the audio feeds, I listen in and hear him say, “Get her in the fucking SUV. The others can deal with him.”
“I’ll fucking kill you all,” I hiss as I grab the emergency hardline phone on the desk.
I need to help Sophia.
But fuck, I’m going to have to kill a lot of men in order to do that.
Pushing the second number on the speed dial, the line only rings once before Simon picks up. “What’s happening, James?”
“They’ve got Sophia. I’m counting ten men so far, inside and surrounding the perimeter. Can’t tell if there’s more in the SWAT truck they drove through my fucking house,” I say as I turn around and start piecing together what I need to survive.
“We’re twenty minutes out,” Simon hisses in irritation. “Any chance you can stall them?”
“I’m sure as fuck going to try, but the stairwell to the first floor is partially collapsed,” I say, eyeing the large stash of goodies I’ve collected over the years.
A plan is slowly coming together in my head, but I don’t know exactly how it will work yet.
“Dammit,” Simon snaps.
“Call Oscar, have him out on the road to tail them. Maybe he can see where they’re headed,” I say, rage threatening to cloud my thinking. “Send one car here, the rest follow Sophia. My wife is our number one priority.”
There’s a touch of trepidation in Simon’s voice when he asks, “What do you have planned, James?”
“Remember how you wouldn’t let me play with the big boy toys? Well, I’m gonna have some fun now.”
Lucifer comes over the line. “James…”
“Don’t worry, Matthew,” I say. “I’ll make sure all my fingers and toes remain attached.”
Trent moves toward an SUV with the fucker carrying Sophia. Those lucky fucking shits are going to be able to breathe for another hour, I guess.
“They’re leaving soon. They’ve got seven guys stationed inside and outside the house now,” I say. “They’re going to be hunting for me.”
“Lock yourself in the safe room, James. We’ll be there soon,” Lucifer says like he’s trying to fucking give me an order or something.
“Eat my asshole,” I say before hanging up the phone.
Quickly grabbing Mitzy, I put her on the bed against the wall. “Stay. Daddy’s has to take care of business.”
Walking to the opposite wall, I grab the small pair of earmuffs I had specifically designed for her. Placing the earmuffs over her ears, I give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll get mommy back as soon as I can, baby.”
Turning to the special safe, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I’ve gathered a lot of cool shit over the years. Antique guns, lots of cash, unmarked gold bars, and C-4. I’ve also completely set up new identities for me and Sophia. The moment I knew I had to have her I went to work on getting us a way out if we ever needed it.
All of us in the family have new identities waiting in our safes in case shit truly hits the fan.
I know I’m on a deadline, but I stare at the passports, credit cards, birth certificates, and social security cards. These things are made at a high cost. They’re not knockoffs or stolen. They’re real separate identities. We could walk into the any governme
nt agency and get zero questions.
Is it time to use these?
I don’t think so, but we’re heading into a war right now and who the fuck knows what’s going to happen.
Grabbing a black backpack from the side of the safe, I sweep all the cash, gold, and identities into the bag. Just in case. They won’t do me any good down here if we have to make a quick run for it.
Setting the bag down by Mitzy, I crack all the knuckles on my hands and start to dig out my toys.
It’s time to play.
Pulling out the C-4 and the stuff that makes it all go boom, I grin to myself. The guys never let me have any fun with this shit.
It’s always—James you’ll blow your fingers off. James you blew up a donut shop. James you don’t know what you’re doing.
Yada, yada, yada.
Fuck ‘em all.
This has to go quick though. I need shock and awe when I do this. And I need to take out as many of them as possible before it gets down to guns and fists.
Jogging over to what’s left of the stairwell, I make my way up and start planting all the C-4 I have in places that will hopefully burst up and outwards. Whatever comes near my little boom cave is going to have a bad time.
Thankfully, I have an idea of how to shape my C-4 charges so they won’t cause a total collapse into the basement.
Or at least, I think I do.
Trailing the cordage back behind me, I set up the detonator so that it’s at the end of the stairs.
I’d love to go hang out in the safe room and watch on the monitor while I blow this shit up, but I don’t have that kind of time.
Running back to the safe room one last time, I yank a shirt over my head and sit down to put on my boots. With the clock ticking in my head and the sinking feeling of Sophia being driven further and further away from me, I don’t bother trying to get dressed in full assault gear.
I slap on a Kevlar vest, grab my M4A1 assault rifle, two Glocks, and an extra magazine for each.
Attaching what I need to my body, I almost feel like I’m back in the military, getting ready to head into a special ops mission.
My hands jitter for a few seconds as I watch the security monitor. I’ve got seven cops in the house and they’re all converging on the rubble of the basement door. They’ve searched the rest of the house and figured out where I am.
It was only a matter of time.
Suddenly a small meow comes from beyond the open door to the safe room and I nearly have a fucking heart attack.
“You motherfucker!” I growl at Sophia’s cat.
Stomping angrily to the cat, I try to remember the recipe I learned over in the sandbox, when Mitzy starts to whine at me.
“Don’t tell me you like this fucking thing,” I snap at Mitzy.
Grabbing Fluffers roughly by the back of her neck, I yank her up into my arms. This fucking fluffball is what caused all this shit, and she’s just fucking chilling here without a fucking care in the world.
My hands just fucking ache to break her fucking neck. Like I can actually fucking feel all her little bones and cartilage snapping.
Dropping Fluffers next to Mitzy, I glare down at her. “Bitch, you and me are going to have a long talk after all this is over.”
Checking the security screen one last time, I see that it’s go time. They’ve got two guys digging in the steps, and I doubt it will take them long to open it up enough to drop a couple grenades down here.
Looking back at Mitzy and Fluffers, I can’t do much but shut the door to the safe room. I’ll be back for them.
Hopefully.
Taking a long, deep breath, I shove earplugs into my ears and get into position.
Can’t be a good daddy if I can’t hear the baby crying.
Squatting down beside the detonator, I turn my head away from the stairwell and get a sudden case of the chuckles.
“Boom time.”
Pushing the button down, there’s a split second before the world explodes in a deafening roar of rubble and highly energized shit going haywire.
I’d be lying if I said this didn’t give me a slight boner.
Moving quickly, I start to rush up the stairs.
I get to the second step before I’m flung backward by a giant blast of fire and heat coming from upstairs.
What. The. Fuck.
For a third time today I find myself at the bottom of the stairs, pondering just exactly how the fuck I got here.
“Gas line,” I gasp out once the heat starts to dissipate.
Fuck.
Thank god the safe room has an independent air and water supply. That gas eruption and the C-4 aren’t going to do shit to the room… but holy fuck. I wonder just how much of the house I have left upstairs.
I have safety shit everywhere to prevent a total catastrophic failure… So we should be good... I hope.
Standing up from the floor, I shake my head and move quickly up the stairs. If the first explosion didn’t take out some of the assholes, I’m sure that second one got at least a couple.
Glancing down at my M4A1 assault rifle, I wince. No wonder my back hurts like I got fucking hit with a baseball bat. The damn thing is bent and fractured.
Shit.
That’s going to make things a bit harder.
Stopping to drop the useless rifle, I wonder for a moment how exactly these fuckers found their way here.
Simon scrubbed the existence of this house from the public registry. Sophia and I weren’t tailed here when we made our getaway.
There’s only a few things that could have happened.
We could have a fucking rat.
Amanda could have given out our location.
Or someone fucked up and got tailed.
Pulling a Glock from my under-the-arm holster, I take off the safety and finish making my way up the stairs.
Now is not the time to worry about how they got here. I can worry about it later.
After I’ve killed them all.
Above me, it sounds like mass confusion. There’s some shouting, some screaming and wailing.
I’ve caused some carnage at least.
Time for what my boy Gabriel likes to do—mayhem.
Taking the final steps two at a time, I don’t hesitate. Hesitation is the thing that will kill me now.
Moving up past the blockage that’s been blown away from the stairs, I grin. At least I did that right.
Stepping over the rubble, I notice blood is splattered all over the floor, and directly in front of me is a smoking corpse. I’m guessing he was blown in here from the kitchen.
Quickly looking around, I raise my gun and spot a man on the floor near the garage. He’s shell-shocked. Rolling around, he’s trying to find his gun and get his bearings.
Walking over to him, I kneel down and put my knee on his neck. My free hand rips his head to the side and I feel his neck snap.
No one will be leaving this house alive, and this is as personal as I’m gonna get.
Until now, I’ve been operating on pure instinct. I haven’t let my emotions or thoughts push past the barrier of my primal instinct to kill.
Sophia.
She weighs so heavily on my mind it’s almost unbearable. The guilt of her being taken… Fuck. I should have protected her. I didn’t. If anything happens to her, I’ll fucking cease to exist. I can’t go on if she isn’t in my life.
I’ll be a dead man walking.
If I had my choice, I’d die before her. If she were to go before me, it would only be a matter of hours... maybe minutes…
Standing up from the body and the dark thoughts that race through my mind, I turn toward the sound of scuffling feet in the living room.
Someone’s coming to check out what happened.
Moving toward the sound, I really wish I had my fucking assault rifle. The bullets for the assault rifle are Teflon-coated and pierce through the armor these fuckers are wearing like they’re butter. While my pistol’s bullets are coated too, they’re not nea
rly as powerful. Meaning I’m going to have to aim at their weak spots.
Creeping into the decimated kitchen, I want to internally weep at the destruction the small gas explosion caused. It’s fucking devastation in here. All my counters and appliances are destroyed…
Goddammit.
The only thing that seems to have survived the blast is my cast iron skillet.
Squatting down, I grab the skillet out of the smoking rubble and wait for the sound of shuffling feet again.
Someone is slowly but surely making their way toward me.
The moment I see feet, I jump up and bring the skillet up hard against the fucker’s chin. I whack him so hard, the bone in my arm vibrates and I can feel his jaw bones crushing.
Dropping the skillet, I grab his falling body and put the tip of my gun under his chin. Pulling the trigger twice, I end him. His brains splattering against the inside of his helmet.
My gunfire isn’t going to go unnoticed though.
Shoving the body to the floor, I pick up the skillet and move to the other side of the kitchen. I consider hiding behind the fridge, but I know better. In movies fridges stop bullets, but in real life bullets slice right through them.
There’s more scuffling and movement in the living room area and I know they’re positioning themselves for a drawn-out fight.
I can’t let that happen.
The longer this shitshow goes on, the less likely I’ll be walking out of this alive and unscathed.
Not that I truly have a chance of getting out of this alive or without a mark as it is…
“Jack?!” a voice calls out, moving closer.
Lifting the skillet, I grin and chuck it at the first person that pops into my vision. The skillet smacks the man square in the face, hitting the mask he’s using to hide his identity.
“Yahtzee,” I snicker as I follow it up with two shots to his chest.
Staggering from the blows, I notice one shot went through but the other looks like it only impacted.
Fuckers. I hate when they wear armor.
He slumps against the wall and I run up to him. Yanking my tactical knife from my thigh sheath, I slam it into the side of his neck.
Not bothering to wait to see if he’s dead, I pull the knife and keep moving.